Best Man In The Street Poems
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
Who is my neighbor?
The man in the street
or the stranger you meet?
The cripple on the sidewalk
or the beggar on the street?
The child in the park
or the stranger in the dark?
The postman
the milkman
the hobo
the cop ?
Who is my neighbor
would you like to know?
All of God's creatures
for He loves them so.
No one seemed to take much note at first.
Old-timers on park benches passed a comment or two,
Somebody wrote a letter to the local rag,
but no one (who mattered, that is)
really seemed to mind.
Of course, you will always have
your bellyachers and woolly romantics
with nothing better to do than whine
about the way things are going, -
the loss of bird life, the silenced dawn chorus,
the vanishing English hedgerow,
you know the sort of thing.
The leaves began falling long before autumn.
"Funny," they said, "curious," "that's one for the book."
This was all very interesting for botanists,
environmentalists, chemists and the like.
Such words as "pollution," "soil erosion"
and "deprivation" were bandied about,
but no one was much the wiser though
the experts were agreed on one point.
"Photosynthesis provides the basis of all life."
This was interesting but nothing like
as interesting as the favourite for Ascot,
the football results, the Top of the Pops,
the late night thriller or the FT index.
All that changed.
Foresters and timber merchants became concerned
about the decaying cores of many trees.
The government became concerned, too,
(not so much about the fate of the trees as such
as about the effect the scarcity of wood
was having on the paper industry and inflation).
Then the doom-watchers caught the scent
and there was talk of an imminent ecological collapse,
but the man in the street still
passed it all off as the usual load of rot.
Then Kew Gardens, Epping Forest, Central Park,
the Everglades and the Bois de Boulogne
went the way of all wood.
A tramp, locally known as Nat the Nut,
was found in the village cemetery gibbering,
Before being bundled into an ambulance,
he was heard to say:
"With these very ears I heard 'em groan,
and this is what one of 'em said:
'Tonight we are dying, yew and I,
and the morrow sees us dead.'
And the willows wept in the valleys
and the trees on the hills pined away."
When the harvest failed,
the church bells tolled
for a woe no man could gainsay,
for none doubted then the trees were lost
or held it was only they.
When It Rains It Pours
Idiomatic sayings are such a delightful way of expressions,
The truth in them may sometimes stretch our imagination..
When it rains, it pours is one such expressive gem of wisdom..
When troubles in numbers mirror realism in a weather phenomenon..
Here in Bolehland widely hailed as a Land of Endless Possibilities...
Ernest concerted efforts are put in place to deny negative publicity...
Like minded politicians are staying resolute behind a highly ranked civil servant..
Whose exalted position demands he be above controversies as a public servant...
Electorates on the ground are increasingly befuddled and anguished each day..
As snippets of less than positive news and episodes are revealed each day...
It is widely accepted that the door of opportunity closes while another opens..
Likewise all tall tales of lies and deceit, numerous are the twists and turns...
Here in Bolehland, there is outright shock and disgust at the latest turn of events..
After months of in-depth investigative reports, no one could comprehend...
When the highest legal prosecution office in Bolehland triumphantly blared...
Despite the voluminous reports and papers, there was no crime to declare ....
The presumably guilty topmost civil servant was declared squeaky clean...
To top it all, he was so honorable as to have had returned millions unseen...
The gossip mill is rampant and unflattering over this latest seal of innocence..
More so when there are incoming news of global inquiry and investigations...
The court of public opinion is out there in the streets of Bolehland...
To the man in the street, he is seeing multiple acts of Houdini first hand...
But as the proverbial wisdom has so aptly been used when troubles abound...
When it rains, it pours, especially for someone in high office in Bolehland.....
To all interested, seat back and watch the melodrama as it unfolds by each day...
When it rains, it pours should hopefully reveal the elusive truth one fine day...
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-world-of-scandal-descends-on.html?ref=source
https://sg.news.yahoo.com/twists-turns-najib-rm2-6-230008097.html?nhp=1
Hand In The Cookie Jar
The word is out, the waiting suspense is over...
Over here in this small young democratic country...
For quite some time, in this Bolehland of endless possibilities...
There has been fascinating accounts of financial irregularities...
Every man in the street, he knows for a fact...
When one is a public official for the government...
One needs to uphold the integrity of being in public service...
In your personal bank accounts, no mysterious monetary incentives...
The highest ranking public official in Bolehland...
Religiously taking the holy ground, playing verbal footsies all round....
Pleading innocence and ignorance, with suspicious money in his bank accounts...
As one nation, all the more bemused as implausible explanations spew forth...
Now the word is out, despite painstaking months of evidence gathering...
A Voluminous report of convulated money trails and entangled cash flows...
A single all important pawn has said, Insufficent Evidence, No further action.....
A shocking proclamation of his master's innocence, despite the public opinion..
Whither goes Malaysia, now that a perceived wrong is verbally white washed...
When a grievious misdeed, is now merely a twisted piece of re engineered logic....
Spin masters, blinded aides and mercenary political stooges...
As one they cried in unison, It is not what it seems, the boss is clean...
While the man in the street, he shakes his head and mutters incredulously...
The many twists and turns, of mysterious donors and a deceased king...
How is it things in this Bolehland have come this far...
Was it not a simple case of being caught with a hand in the cookie jar?
https://sg.news.yahoo.com/twists-turns-najib-rm2-6-230008097.html?nhp=1
Saville row suit with lots of loot
You start to talk - his jokes are a hoot
No wedding ring upon his finger
You hold his gaze and let it linger
You leave together in his fancy car
Passionate kisses follow – you go too far
He promises to call you like some men do
Has he just made a fool of you
You don’t know anything; not even his name
It takes two to tango – you are both to blame
Nine months later and your baby arrives
The only thing you know is the car he drives
One day you see this man in the street
A wife by his side, 2 kids at his feet
You stare at him and catch his eye
He looks at the baby and then at the sky
Jan Allison
23rd March 2014
I have no idea where the idea for the poem came from - it just took 5 minutes to write
What a Happy day,
as the Sunshine dance
and the Music play.
What a Happy day
as He calls my name,
as I hear His voice,
I just look his way.
What a Happy Day,
As I feel His warmth,
As I feel his love,As
I kneel down and pray.
What a Happy joyful day,
When He calls my name,
in such a special way,Through
the old man in the street,
through the blind boy
that i hug and the prisoners,
i greet.What a Happy day,
as He calls my name,in
the sound of the rain,
through the Colored world,
through each singing bird,
through Our Mother Earth,
I hear Him call my name.
What a Happy day,as Jesus
calls,through my every friend,
As Jesus calls,Give the poor
some food,and the sick,a hand.
What a Happy day,as
I hear him call my name,
in such a special way,
I feel His love,in the flying
dove, As I hear His voice,
in the Celestene sky above.
He stood at the Crossway begging for alms.
His demeanor looked like he was singing the psalms.
With folded hands, gazing at the sky he mutters.
The spewed words that tormented his grey matter.
Half naked, he sometimes sways, in a trance.
Rehesrsing the jive of spiritual dance
His Emotions enraged in screams
Recalling his Shattered dreams.
Images that creep in his mind in daylight.
Were even more vivid in the darkness of night.
His withered body looked like sculptured by bones.
As though some one had wrung out his blood
Suntanned skin, Like dark dry leaves kissed by the summer heat.
Which shatter when crushed under my feet.
The scares on his face reflect the pain.
Wrinkles and crow’s feet are his passions etched in vain.
Stars appeared like teardrops; on the cheeks of the sky.
Gently the breeze caresses; his frail body as he sighed.
He longed for sleep that eluded him for years.
Perhaps he never tried hard enough, lest he awakens his fears.
Suddenly he heard music playing in his head.
He just smiled, and lay down, and he was dead.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Aah....!!!! It was not me??...but the man in the street.!!
The rain keeps coming,
Masking tears of despair, and rivers of agony
Seem in no hurry to crest
In this orb that is my world, I stand in frozen animation
As I listen to the venom of tangled tongues and crooked lips
Then hear the critique of the man in the street
I stop to analyze and find that nothing is said, just a horde
Of ghastly lies
My heart grows heavy, and my chest tightens.
As anger builds, my lungs feel the fire of the now forsaking
Breath, the pain is real,
And I contemplate my fate
In this world of mine
The sun is sad and the moon weeps,
And the walls inch closer.
As my neck plays a melody of twisting knots, my shoulders
Feel as if stomped by the passion of a flamenco dance.
As my temples lament the torment of this harrowing crescendo.
From a place called malice and rage, hate and contempt
Send bouquets,
But in the glory of this floral splendor, lies deceit,
The bewitching fragrance of the day.
And serpents of a human Ilk, their minds filled with disdain and
Spite, come to feed upon my life,
As their minions nibble,
I question my sanity
In this world of mine
Is the theatre of suffering,
Where shadows of rage cloak, a dominion of corruption,
And evil keeps a watchful eye,
And vultures with hearts bitter and cold, stalk,
As if waiting for a carrion to be born, that a feast may begin.
And in this presence of immorality,
Void is the integrity of soul.
As I listen to the wind, I hear the voice of purpose,
And in the verses of the night, Is the message of the day
And the lessons taught,
Are real
In this world of mine
As this deluge of decadence baths a candid soul,
I strive to be freed, from the afflictions
Of being.
And amid the craving for contentment, I beg,
For deliverance,
And rest my fate at the foot of the mountain, for there
Lies truth.
In my meditation, eager I am to see behind the light
And reconnect with the presence within,
For it is there that I hear the sunshine in your voice,
And see the laughter in your eyes.
It is there that courage is present, and I am fraught with the
Effervescence of your smile,
And your face is vibrant
And passion enriches me,
And I, am reborn
In this world of mine
Earl S. Jackson
July 2014
Copyright © 2014 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Grief greets sorrow this sad sad day;
Broken hearts feel the dry March air;
A taut hollow now comes our way;
A certain chill brings death to bear.
In the last light when sleep brought rest,
Your soul found ease in silence grim;
We mourn your flight to yonder quest;
So Rest In Peace with your sweet dreams.
We want to say how proud we are
That you were here to help us grow;
It's true to say you were our star;
You loved us dear in selfless show.
A people's man who served a cause;
Your death our loss beyond measure;
Your forged bold plans and stayed our course;
Flowers we toss to one treasured.
Farewell fits feel as we mourn and sigh;
No words can sum the impact here;
Will our hearts heal to bear new highs?
We feel shock numb with loss of cheer.
May your soul rest in higher spheres:
May you find joy in love's embrace;
Fly to a quest as twin flame cheers;
Bear love's employ in ample grace.
Here and there see your face brief;
Teary eyes spy man in the street;
Just everywhere your face floods grief;
Singapore cries as the times greet.
A nation mourns a patriot son,
Father figure who made us feel
Great and well-known in the long run;
Fact now triggers a dirge and will.
Leon Enriquez
25 March 2015
Singapore
when you get old enough,and are like me,you want to solve mysteries.
my oldman being the case,
very violent
never knew consequences for his actions.
his father protected him,spent thousands of dollars in bailing him out of jail
spent even more in most cases in providing high priced attorney's to aid his son in Federal crimes.
my oldmans mother owned a saloon and died early in his life,this loss sent him into destruction....
drinking
hard drugs
fire arms
murder
domestic violence
infidelity
armed robbery would become Frankie Boy's menu.
what makes this tale complicated is that in his mayhem he was in is own right a Renaissance man.he loved horses taught him self how to ride,he was a lefty in playing golf.
he wanted to be a undertaker because he saw it's money making potential
he wanted to be a Police officer but there was a hiring freeze
he flew small airplanes as a crop duster.
so when telling this story you need to take a breath.
what do you make of a man who loved silence on top of the roof of an apartment building then in that same place take a 12 gage shotgun and from that roof top kill a man in the street.
in time a car accident did him in,caused him paralysis from his neck down
he would die in hospital
with assistance of drugs that were injected into his IV by one of his visiting druggie friends.
so before the angels came,he died in bed
shhhhhh.
A Kidney Tale
It is a sorry tale that greeted this writer in his early morning read....
Of a schoolboy and his kidney that had to be separated in earnest..
Headlined Boy Loses kidney After Falling Into Uncovered Manhole...
It happened somewhere there in Klang, a very bustling urban town...
There is even a picture of the manhole, gaping wide in its unholy glory..
Even of a woman in the picture, who is shown sidestepping it nimbly...
Reading further, it is distressing to read how an innocent boy of 15...
In his usual short walk towards school on one fine early morning....
Ended up in hospital in excruciating pain and a swollen abdomen...
One of his kidney had to be removed in order his life is not endangered..
A most startling observation was his innocent comment about manholes...
He said there were a number of them, mostly uncovered and all gaping holes...
To his credit and pedestrians there in general, one has to be nimble....
One has to be quick if one is is to avoid falling into a whole lot of trouble...
Our boy hero in this tale of misfortune, he suffered and lived to tell a tale...
Of the gross dereliction of duty in the government officials in maintainence....
They need to maintain the pedestrian walk, how could there be manhole traps..
With the many manholes left gaping wide, danger threatens at every step...
To a man in the street, paying local council assessments and various taxes....
It is not too much to ask that public facilities be proper and safety standards be uptodate..
The poor boy in this tale, his loving parents, they are sorely aggrieved and angry..
Legal action is in their next plan of action, may they get their kidney's worth of damages...
But as the picture shows, those manholes are gaping wide and still uncovered...
They are there, lying in wait, hoping to catch some other unfortunate passerby..
Oh how very sad the depths of apathy and the indifference of the local councillors..
Neglecting their duties, they are very guilty for this rather sad and sorry story..
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2016/02/13/boy-ruptures-kidney-after-falling-into-uncovered-manhole/
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2016/02/21/teenager-who-lost-kidney-in-manhole-accident-to-sue-klang-council/
Confronting conflict
So much to say;
Not much said
Momentary surge
Foolish inquisition;
Curiosity rambles
Trial and error
Foresight blurring;
Curious burdens pain
Age feels fatigue
Turmoil in body-mind;
Forgetfulness lingers
Wandering in circles
Arrival starts ending;
Hurl new departures
Moment to moment
Change boomerangs;
Jigsaw puzzle gamble
Hidden agendas
Many pieces void;
Crazy feelings loiter
Empty passageways
Dark dreary corridors;
Ancient musky odours
Ice cream vendor
Push-cart existence;
Rainy weather losses
Self-destruct mode
Severe gambling losses;
Avaricious woes
Joyride nightmare
Cold sweat agony;
Morning uprising
Uncertain agenda
Confusion descends;
Insane mentality
Man in the street
Mind your own business;
Law of the jungle
Leon Enriquez
14 June 2014
Singapore
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE LEADER:
LIVE AND LET LIVE AT PEACE
To: Mr. US President
A man in the White House
Peace!
Dear Sir.
With all due respect to you.
To be frank with you, Sir
In my opinion there are many demagogues and agitators
Loitering around us
They speak about truth soundly,
Propagandize peace loudly
And voice love for all fluently
(they pretend they are peace-loving people)
whereas the point is
they persuade us to declare war
against our mankind
(I say to myself: The cowl does not make the monk.)
Mind the provocateurs!
Beware of such people!
Be careful with their instigation!
Do not let them cheat us out
Do not let them make us look foolish
Do not let them lead us be crack and split.
They do not do it all except for their sake only
Like jackals starved for sheep
Like demons causing man fall
Like beasts hunting kids
Like terrorists spreading out hostilities between us.
Let us live at peace
Let us live together
Side by side under the same blue sky
Let our heart be in love with each other
And be glad to work hand in hand
For raising our wheat crops and cattle breeding cheerfully
And building our sweet home with love and honesty.
For the love of the mankind
Just in such doing
Our life will really be happy
Because such is life!
That is the way of life which is the true peaceful one!
That is all.
Peace be with you.
Sincerely yours,
A man in the street
Whistleblower Blues
??
Here in Bolehland, some one blew a whistle on some perceived wrong doings...
And this land of peverted justice, the very act of such whistle blowing...
Is a magnet for police attention and intense investigations...
Incredibly not for exposing the wrong and criminal acts...
But for the greater offence of breaching the Official Secret Act...
Even to the common man in the street, it is almighty strange. ..
Exposing an illegal act, even when you have the facts, is in itself illegal...
So in a recent case, the whistleblower gets sentenced to 18 months in jail ...
The police, they get commended and the approving nods of a job well done...
What of the criminal wrongs, all securely hidden in the folds of OSA...
The perpetrators, they continue to stay hidden as officers in the government...
Fault them not, they work for the government, who are we to give comments....
In Bolehland, laws are aplenty and its interpretations so many....
If you are in the right company or side of the goverment, don't worry...
Things grey or black, you can never tell them correctly alright....
For unseen hands are at work, as puppeteers in a marionette show at night...
Whistleblowers here in Bolehland, it's time to stand up all puffed up to blow...
Blow loud and clear, blow all you can, for then Bolehland may have a chance to glow...