Best Koko Poems
Precious stones- rubies and pearls
Adorn the belly of a golden vase.
Cool springs of water flows by,
Oh what a paradise! Ain't time for man to die;
Songs of the Robin and that of parakeet
Enveloping the air with melodies so sweet.
Calm whistles of the evening wind amidst the moonlight,
What an eden! Ain't time to say good night;
Peaceful chattering of the "oderee koko"
And the calming feel of sipping a hot cocoa.
The sexy dance of tall grasses amidst the rainfall,
What a beauty! Ain't never time for man's downfall.
Gali Da Poet #2023 series.
Looking out, everything but the mountains
seems affected by wind today
It drives the sea green water that divides
our little island from the other bay
Coconut palm leaves, wildly sway
color and movement, vibrant, alive
Hedges shimmer, verdant with flowers
Tropical warmth between blowing showers
And, under cloud shadows, at the foot
of the Koolaus-
one sunlit meadow
Suzanne Delaney
when reading Koolous [ it is 3 syllables ko- o- laus ]
11/20/2015
For the contest, Any Poem, sponsor, Broken Wings
Masters of Trickery
alien ornithopters filled with pilgrims
gliding in under a full moon
foul smelling unwashed bumbling
hubcap jockeys from artless galaxies
firing bursts of compressed methane
in wanton hypnotic quantities
ended civilization as we know it
the survivors reel in stupor
the land is barren its people wail
our women masturbate exclusively
our men drool and **** themselves
except for a number of mathematicians
and barflies who did that anyhow
whoever said exile makes you smart
was a master of trickery and deceit
why did their science get them this far
then break down into useless tin
replacement parts are on the way
OK you can drive it just don't touch turbo
well he did and became one of the new gods
commanding the involuntary muscle groups
and the media of mass communication
Koko the hand sign gorilla was his High Priestess
Koko want play peek-a-boo
discovered anarchy all by herself
using those prehensile wiggly digits
to construct a portable explosive device
but potassium permanganate and peanut butter
must be mixed slow and her impatience
was set to fast so it went off in her face
leaving Koko beautiful as Venus
a miracle of chaotic reconstruction
when all she wanted for her head
was a tetrahedron
proving that existence is open source
the alien visit had been productive
many messages were left with us
could time have a center
asked the almond eyed pilot huffily
only huffy for him
was rip your head off
and didgeridoo down your windpipe
it looks like we all suffer from
gambler's syndrome
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
KoKo Ameen, the Jewelry Queen
Designs her creations with a sheen,
Her bangles jingle-jangle as she
Tip-toes through the tangle
Of original designs that will be
Presented in her one-woman show,
Simply entitled, "KoKo Ameen Aglow."
Her originals are in demand by
The Fifth Avenue hauteur
Who frequent her shows for the mature
Lovers of jewelry who don't mind spending
Thousands of dollars for KoKo's blending
Of turquoise, silver, copper and gold,
Making statements that are very bold,
Wear it today, wear it forever,
Friends will become envious however,
When they know that the earrings and
Pins are designed by KoKo Ameen,
The Jewelry Queen.
November 3, 2016
Old Jewelry Contest
OH ! WHAT A VALENTINE !
As the clock tickles away horarily
On the day set aside for Romeo
In the heart of a Juliet
I waited , I did waited
For a once Golden Dace of a Juliet
Whom I have longed to Romeo on this day
I rang the ring unto her hearing
Behold my Juliet jumps from
One hour to another, posting her Romeo
Like a letter whose destination is lost
I waited , I did waited
Till time waits for me no more
It dawned on me heavily
I was not Today’s Romeo du Valentino
Neither was I the Romeo
Nor the chosen Valentino
I delude myself into a lover’s garden trance
Where I held tight unto her
Our tongues lost in each others’ mouth
As my heart- beat ran through the
Speedometer like Ben Johnson
Our urge for each other.
Made us surge forward in a frenzy order
We got lost in another cloud
“I love you” chorused us simultaneously
From my trance, I transited back to life
I spoke to my mind to come off
The rituals of Valentine
My feet was heavy to free itself from
The dancing steps of the “Koko of a Dome”
For there is no sanity in the vanity of a Valentine
She rang the ring unto my hearing, pleading
When darkness has come upon
The surface of the Earth.
It was a time for “Bobo” Valentino
I shrugged it off!
I am not Bobo Valentino
I was to be a Romeo du Valentino
Oh! What a Valentine!
Alayande Stephen T.
14th February,2006.
11:36pm
A spiced up story of what happened to me on the
Valentine’s day and the vanity in all the myth that
Goes with the day called Valentine.
Form:
Raise the flag and let it fly high
On every mouth of joy they cry
File unto the street with dance of many styles
This is a special day for a mankind
Raise the sword in the air for the hero
For he conquered in many battles yet without shedding a drop of blood
Three scores and one salutes to the warrior of the desert and forests
For he won his wars beyond the tropics, temperate and savannahs
He is the god that made me
The hand that molded me
The stone that grilled me
The iron that crushed me
Yet the furnace that refined me
Give it to the lion whose roar tamed the beast in me
I love the running waters whose splashes soothe and bath me clean
Blessed be the hands that helped heal my wounds.
He is a brickman who laid me and mount me up
He watched me set, rise and take a shape as I age
He helped correct my mistakes
He's a blessing to me even when he was in rage.
Those rags you wore in the farm as you clear the shrubs
Yet I rocked my sweet conductor style in the city
When the wasp stung and the stumps tore your feet
I cream my "Stella pomade" and laced up my "koko shoe"
I know you flogged me in rage
But the love behind it was never hidden. Just to correct the craze breeding in my rib cage
You list those fine textured hair on you
Just to raise heads fit for crowns _ The Ades.
Yes I know you aren't perfect
But you give your best as human
Yes I know you didn't built mansions
Yet you raised us for the future
You may think you aren't the best
But, when we count our blessings, we count you twice
You are worth more than a million prize
You have our eternal respect
And beyond the graves we vow to love you still
Happy birthday to my beloved father.
Mr. J A Oloye
I love you Dad.
(FM CONCEPTUAL)
self proclaimed er calculating polymath
no win tent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath
juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this february
twenty second, nah scared to take a bath.
The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
eye up ply applies
to brain storming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee
with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,
especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win
Pork Pie Hat predicated on FengShui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark
and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,
where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?
Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose
fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro
throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors
and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,
the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home
especially eerie Under Venus
provoking Wild Animals
to run berserk at lightspeed
en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic
quint essence ova thermocouple
holo graphic images hypnotizing vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating happy interacial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!
I have had an overflow of sweet feeling towards you since we last spoke.
My eyes have not blinked, it made me restless that I have to write this words.
The demonstration of your affection for me is such that my soul bubbles for joy, my heart melts and my spirit is set free.
The peaceful feeling, like fresh air, invigorating as a gentle wind in my heart, this must be the butterfly feeling peeps talk about.
I could have said I feel something more than love for you.
Alas mankind will flutter and shiver,
Mankind may prolly cease to exist.
If it gets to understand what and how I feel for you.
Knack the band of my heart that the maidens of Umuororonjo may dance shanking their waist in mimickery of you.
Kputu kpum, kputu kpum kpum
????????
Strike the chords of my soul that the lads of Aromate may Sally and deck the shores.
??????????????
My very little one, my baby girl.
My cherry koko??????
Wherever I go, wherever you go.
You'll always have a place in my life.
I love you sugarcherrypie.
#BibiNetanyahu
To be really dead is a death
So common to die
But it is most dreadful
For the man in the man to die.
I dread to die in life
It is terrible to die while alive
If you kill my conscience
The real man in the ram is dead.
Many men have been killed
And the rams are left to roam
More hunts are in anxious progress
And more rams are to be dumped to roam.
Don’t be the ram!
When a conscience is killed
The ram is like a toxic waste
Dumped in a koko side of a nation.
To become a toxic waste
Is to die a death
That would offend the dead
Who died the death.
Even those who die in life
Would ram the ram to deaf shambles –
Then is it not better to die the death
Than to die a death of the waste?
Form:
Little Kaistosinikyi, she would speak,
a phrase that stirs the depths of my psyche,
a reminder of the scorching flame that burns inside,
a fire that illuminates the path ahead.
Two wolves, I am told, reside within me,
one of pristine white, the other of koko,
a dichotomy that embodies the paradox
of my existence.
The white wolf, a sublime and ethereal being,
radiates an aura of nobility, elegance, and strength.
She is oblivious to the world around her,
lost in the majesty of her own inner masterpiece,
where the songs of triumphs and the constellations
of the stars are her constant companions.
Koko wolf, is a harbinger of devastation,
a bringer of chaos and destruction.
She lays waste to villages,
her very presence a scourge upon the land.
Mothers and children, innocent and pure,
are consumed by her maw
while the white wolf’s back is turned.
The white wolf is deaf to the pleas of the dying,
her ears plugged by the cacophonies
of her inner sirens.
Please, turn around,
gaze upon the burning ground.
The blood that adorns both hands,
are loved ones, and yours alone to bear,
sanguine with the deeds that you have done,
a reminder of the consequences —
that await your attempts to be number one.
You are a force of nature, nothing can stop you,
a being of primal fury and unbridled power.
But, you are also susceptible to clumsiness,
to the misstep that can exact a severe toll
on those who care about you the most,
because you can’t even stop yourself.
Oh how right she was…
as I turn around and see the monster I become.
Oh how right she was…
Kaistosinikyi — fitting name, grandma.