Best Jacobs Poems
Ancient, rugged hills worn down by time
I miss the lush green hills of my home
Leaning away from the peaceful valley,
Mountains forged from eons long forgotten
During those prehistoric periods before
Earliest settlers found the Appalachians,
Already old, tired, and wrinkled, awaiting
The laughter of young children discovering,
Holding the secrets of ancestors denied
Their birthright by Jacobs and Jacob-ites
Where old waters flow down into new,
New River old, maybe older, than the Nile.
I miss the lush green hills of my home
Leaning away from the peaceful valley
Where John Deere still breaks the ground
In the springtime after a long, hard winter,
And where flowers bloom into October
Especially if Mother Nature allows them.
And she does, for that is her mountain way,
Creating an everlasting yearning for reunion
Back home in those West Virginia hills.
POEM OF THE DAY, December 2, 2021
Poetry Soup
written November 30, 2021
#49 on the Best New Poems List on Poetry Soup
December 8, 2021
Playing With Fire
Afraid for your miscreant soul
While the Devils licking tongues of flame at your heel
With oh so dirty thoughts
Afraid for the flesh
As you are lead to the pits
All the torture there in of your imagination conceives
Be pleased, to afflict on someone else
Swallow your morals
Like a sanctity pill
A Eucharist aspirin swilled down on holy water
Fear the flesh you stalwart middle class
While the upper-class
Enjoy what you cannot
As you wallow in the resistance of sin
And narrow your life to acquiescence
Puerile in such judgements
Of fickle moralities pleasure
Live a life unlived
And all its pleasure turn to guilt and reprieve
Salvation will come
When it ends
Ascend then, the Jacobs Ladder to heaven
Never knowing what it meant
To kiss with abandon
But rather, suckle to demon lips
All those desires in their fetish of flesh
One last look at the skin you left
Untested
Resist my swarthy middle mass citizens
And ply the trade
Of your own oppression
Condemn me, I dare you, to some raging inferno
Where the appeasing of your righteousness
Knows no bounds
In another climactic prayer for torture
I will play with the bonfire
Rather than mess with poor dripping candles
I will stand proud and defiant
And declare that I
Am Human
for Christie
The April morning's quiet
and so is the November.
Wherever people outnumber trees
or the dominant cover type
is unquiet. Nothing wrong with that.
Walt got it right, and Jane Jacobs:
the city is an experienced,
used beauty. Her toes are long,
nails thick and hair thin. Yet
her kisses can be sweet; or
smell of ****. All my life I've tried to point my window toward
some narrow wedge of nature.
On Seaman Ave., over the roof
beyond the chimneys to the park
where every dog was walked.
Could I survive soot and an air shaft now, pigeons and cats,
or even a desk in the legislature for my lot in life. How about
prison like Etheridge Knight,
Nazim Hikmet?
I've gotten soft.
When he builds that house in the pocket
wetland my window now looks out on,
the developer will have given me what I need.
Amphibian mortality,
gravel, fill,
oak, ash and maples felled. Good
to the last drop is our bitterness, our love.
Dinner with old friends:
salmon with red cabbage, asparagus, Caesar's salad, penne with
broccoli, two white wines.
Jane Jacobs could analyze how it all got to our table
or even how their daughter came to us from Cambodia.
The economy or market bringing a thing of beauty, the farms, the trucks,
such comfort. The ancients knew this too
yet we are anxious about famine, genocide and nuclear war.
How can we organize (govern) ourselves to end self-imposed suffering?
That Quebec and Puerto Rico may secede peacefully at any time a
majority chooses is a source of pride. Why not Kurds, Chechyns,
Tibetans and Armenians?
Difficult to write a poem about it. At table, candlelight, we debate
or whine about the other side winning and making a mess
of our lives. The election could be stolen, tampering with voting
machines,
what policy question does that possibility raise? War in Iraq,
school testing, prison population. Religion, the abyss surrounding the
little promontory life.
It'll all work out in the end. Go to your daily practice, be a good citizen.
Another failed effort to write what I mean. Such confusion, yet
two white wines.
Edwardian memoirs breathe relief
rippled tides on yonder reefs
Infinity arrays most precious jewel
silence my heart yet heart does rule
petaled through Eternal bliss
challenged thy lips with an holy kiss
Draw nearer to lull my sacred pool
reel in mine heart as thy tulle
herald triumphant for windily praise
Shadowed followed a loving gaze
Draw thee water from Jacobs well
Carefully tenderly my being is frail
A single glance launched my soul
Edwardian memoirs yet untold
Comforted love that cast away fear
Love me entreat me Darling Dear
"Tsundoku Tower"
Bluebird windowsill
peers in, strange terrain
“Rain Rain Go Away”,
mysterious singing
eerie refrain.
Ghost Girl sitting still
tears falling
she is haunting
Tsundoku Tower
laying vacant
on Treeless Hill.
Looks up
her glow attracts
all the Tiger Moths,
are gathering ‘round
holds out her hands to them
She’s no longer bound -
so she gently kisses them
they are her new friends
In this, her newest ghost town.
Bluebird looks
While she builds
her tower full of
unused books.
Pages and Pages
of unread tomes
Are the walls
of her new home
she builds them extra high
around her like a womb
to keeps the Others out -
This is not their tomb.
Strong spines on their side
top one on top the other
to the Ceiling neat
so dark, so black noire
Jacobs Ladder for her
ascension climb
to her empty silent boudouir.
Wrips out the hearts
of useless books
all those blank white pages
all that wasted time
wallpaper to cover with colour
all her empty stages
with enraptured rhyme.
An antique fountain pen
dipped in pure ghost blood
so crimson dripping wet
from the cuts upon her wrists
she begins to scrawl
her new story, First Chapter
and it begins with this -
“I AM NOT DEAD YET”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
1. Ghost Girl - XavieRinato
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=rkGeq65ejMA
To the powers that be.
I've allowed you to view
my weakness like an
opportunity. Give school
children fatherless
babies, and preach their
nudity to the
congregation. Pagan
prostitute purchasing
pastor preaches to a
godless nation. Commit
adultery upon the body
of Christ and a ct
sinless. Thou shalt not
eat of the fruit of good
knowledge, lest thou be
skinless. Take a wrong
turn like Brenda and get
hit by a bullet train. Of
alcohol abuse, drug
addiction, and mental
strain. We don't live
under the same sun.
When you were
wealthy, my poverty
had already begun. You
got to university, I died
from hunger in Somalia.
Because of my skin, I've
become victim to
sickness, AIDS and
malaria. My protests
end in bloodshed
because of gunshots. If
we hungered not to
perish, we'd do nothing
to fill those empty pots.
String my wings with
the chords of your
swollen affection. Allow
your Jacobs to rule the
nation, they're the
masters of perfection.
Your nation of rapist
gay men has narrowed
the country's vision. You
sodomize my sisters in
your office,under cop
supervision. You molest
my brothers and torture
a nation. Kill my spirit
entirely, and resurrect
an evil nation.
Jesus left Judaea, and departed again into Galilee
It was because of the Pharisees that He had to flee
It being Samaria that Jesus chose to travel through
Thus stopping by Jacobs well and the land that He knew
The Apostles had went to town to buy some meat
As the weary Jesus rested by the well in His seat
When soon a Sumerian women came up to the well
Such a loving story of hope but a little bit hard to tell
As then Our Lord said to her, "give me a drink"
Now this woman was at a loss as to what to think
For most Sumerians didn't normally talk to a Jew
And men didn't speak to woman as everybody knew
"But if you knew God and who just asked you for a drink"
And then the part about the living water really made her think
In so seeing her belief He told her to bring her husband here
Unmarried but divorced five times, yet to Jesus this was already clear
Well I just can't do this beautiful story any justice
As I am afraid the whole point you just might miss
May I suggest that you yourself read the rest in John Chapter 4
In the case of God's Word you will end up getting so much more
John4:26 Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.”
This Samarian woman being the first person,
besides His Apostles, that Jesus revealed Himself too.
This also being Jesus' longest private conversation with anyone in the bible.
He's the one they call "Doc",
tending to those who need his care,
always putting others before himself,
whether in foreign land, sea or by air.
Here's his story, about the time he served,
and everyone needs to know,
Doc volunteered not once, not twice,
but three times to go.
Doc just finished his patrol,
and was headed back to base,
when he heard a loud explosion,
and his heart began to race.
Their humvee had hit an IED,
bomb fragments and glass filled the air,
seeing his fellow marines injured and dead,
was a sight he could not bear.
severely injured himself,
he crawled out of the rubble,
tending to those who needed him,
forgetting that he was also in trouble.
He saved many lives that day,
including his own,
he stayed by his Marines,
so they knew they were not alone.
He is now known as a hero,
and a left leg amputee,
but that hasn't stopped him,
from following his dreams.
He's an inspiration to us all,
a true leader in fact,
because even after his recovery,
he tried his hardest to go back.
His biggest fear was not of death,
or the enemies on the other side,
he feared if he wasn't there,
he couldn't save another life.
he's navy on paper, but a marine at heart,
and always will be,
we salute and thank you,
Semper Fi, Marine.
When Love Was Innocent
What is this feeling I feel is this real
Does your stomach flutter when we touch?
Tell me if we are connecting or if it’s too much
Twinkles in our eyes feelings of butterfly’s
What is this feeling I feel?
When one completes me and I feel whole
Do you feel the same does your feet get cold?
A breath of fresh air a feeling you care
We become one when we do the long stares
My heart my soul a change in my glow
You complete me and I like when it shows
Playing in my hair like when the wind blows
Is this love so innocent and sweet?
Kiara Jacobs
05/07/15
poor Walter Jacobs, a wretched soul was he
one day he said he had enough, then hung himself from a tree!
the tree was old and brittle, its branches gloomy and dead,
which snapped like a fragile twig, as Walter fell on top of his head!
from the tallest building in town, he decided to make a jump,
he landed on a construction scaffold, which made a loud..."KA-THUMP!!"
he grabbed an old revolver, one that he swiped from his mother,
the bullet passed through his empty skull, one ear and out the other!
he laid across some railroad tracks, silent as an unspeakable mime,
wouldn't you know that train had stopped, just in the nick of time!
a bottle of sleeping pills didn't do the trick!
he barfed like a volcano, they only made him sick!
he drove his car off a bridge, such a stupid plan he hatched,
he walked away unscathed, without a single scratch!
he set himself on fire, but the flames quickly died
all he lost were the hairs on his butt, which badly singed his pride!
one day Walter said to himself,..."life ain't so bad, what the heck!"
just then he tripped over his sleeping cat, and broke his freakin' neck!
a moral behind this writing? i knew you'd quickly ask!
no one said life was easy, each day's a difficult task!
death's beyond the horizon, time passes all too fast,
life's with us for only a moment, slow down and make it last!...
Now this poem right here is going to change a man/
This is going to stretch out like elastic bands/
From Dallas to Indiana to Alaska man/
This is going to go down in black history man/
See we rap about guns violence and sex tapes/
Older brother’s that take young girls and still rape/
What happen to our pride and our self-esteem/
What happen to our passion and our wildest dreams/
What ever it was, it was down right sorry/
We rather postpone leadership to buy a Ferrari/
And a lot of our young girls are wearing make-up/
And a lot of our young brothers sell drugs to purchase
Jacobs/
And that’s the same fellow who forgot his latex/
Now his girl got AIDS and not mention she pregnant/
Now her brother is mad and he’s ready to cap (shoot) him/
But that’s why I’m here for, for words of inspiration/
Now the girl is doing fine but she had sex before marriage/
But the baby couldn’t make it so she had a miscarriage/
Now she so depressed, she’s headed for drugs from needles,
To crack pipes trying to find that love/
All in the wrong places the devil in different faces/
She’s stripping at strip clubs, for tips so she can make it/
And the brother who got her pregnant he’s just sitting back and
Laughing and/
Got gassed (shot) a couple weeks ago for drug trafficking/
Yeah, see he paid the price/
Took God’s gift for granted the gift of life/
Now getting back to the girl she’s happy her man gone/
She used to be dark skin, but he beat her bad, now she’s
Redbone/
Her hair’s grown/
Back from wearing he use to snatch it out/
And on top of that kicked her out her own house/
So she had enough one day/
And pulled out his AK (gun)/
And said “The day you touch me again, you’ll die the same day”/
But that was before he died, and she’s making it now and/
Got her master’s degree and she’s making a hundred thousand/
Dollars each year, and daily she prays/
Pays five grand on medicine because she still has AIDS/
And I wish the poem could end, but it’s sad to say/
Of what happen to this girl still goes on and happens today/
It is a Wednesday afternoon during the school year.
That means sixth-grader Sallee Jacobs will be walking home today.
Sallee's mother works in the emergency room on Wednesdays,
Otherwise she picks Sallee up at the school that is one mile from their home.
On this particular Wednesday, it is pouring down rain.
As Sallee reaches the half-way point,
an empty stretch of road between two housing developments,
a red sedan pulls up next to her and the driver rolls down his window.
"Hi," shouts the man over the sound of the pouring rain beating down on the roof of his car, "your mother asked me to pick you up - come get in out of the rain."
Sallee simply stares at this stranger and quietly says, "No thank you", even though she is miserably soaking wet, cold and angry at her mother for working Wednesdays.
"It's okay," reassures the fully-bearded man, "my name is Mr. Thomas, and I am a friend of your mother."
Sallee studies his face, thinking, you don't look like any of my mom's friends. "No thank you," she repeats as she starts backing away from the car.
Then, out of nowhere, another man appears at Sallee's side. He is wearing a rain coat and flashes a reassuring smile. He looks at Sallee and asks, "Is everything all right here?"
Sallee, simply looks at the man in the car.
"Everything is fine," says the man in the car, "Her mother asked me to pick her up out of the rain."
"Do you know this man?", the rain coat asks Sallee.
"No."
"Do you want to get into his car?"
"No."
"How far away do you live from here?"
"Just up the hill and across Madison."
"Are you okay walking there by yourself?"
"Yes."
There are now four cars lined up behind the red sedan. They start honking their horns at the car in their way.
"I don't know, Mister," says the rain coated man, "I think you just best move along before I call the police."
The bearded man asks Sallee one more time, "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"
With water dripping down her face, Sallee shakes her head, yes.
The red sedan moves on.
*****
It is 10:00 Wednesday night. The red sedan is parked in front of Sallee's house. Mr. Thomas holds Sallee's mother's hand while trying to describe to the police what the man in the raincoat looked like. Sallee is never seen again.
By Jacobs well he sat; a stranger to me
I came to draw water for I thirsted so
As I turned to go, he gently said, “Come
drink freely, I have water for which you do not know.
There are many fountains from where water freely flows,
but there is only one that can satisfy the soul.
My fountain flows from on high a well of living water
that shall never run dry ”.
Now I am drinking from a fountain where I will ever abide and
My soul is satisfied.
What think you now my tortured friend?
That thy clothes you fiercely rent
Through painful eyes and tearful cries
You feel you must repent
Do thoughts of past that hold you fast
Bring pain that will not cease?
Does guilt from acts and evil pacts
Provide your heart no ease?
Is it your secrets of the past
For which you must repent?
You think that guilt is your reward
For how your life was spent?
You must not fret, you must forget
The pain of things gone by
The pain you feel that will not heel
And makes you want to die
The force of fate has pushed you
To do the things you’ve done
It’s your karma that has pulled you
To what can’t be undone
There is no blame there is no shame
To learn from your mistakes
But learn you must, your peace to earn
For that is what it takes
It is not yours to sorrow
For every lesson that you’ve learned
Is one step closer to perfection
That your growing soul has earned
Do you not know we’re here to grow
Your guilt is their control
Take back your life to ease your strife
Be master of your soul
Your soul’s on Jacobs ladder
And goes from life to life
Each lesson here provides you
Relief from pain and strife
You have your life before you
And a mission to fulfill
Fulfill your dreams, your joyful schemes
Maintain a steely will
There is no sin, it’s in your mind
It’s yours to take or leave
You bring it on with thoughts impure
You reap as you believe
So go your way beloved friend
Choose to do your best from now
Do as you please and hurt no one
Your God within will show you how
Forgive yourself the future’s yours
Just do the best you can
Do lofty deeds, fulfill your needs
And you will be a better man