Best Marcus Poems
I’m the prince with calloused palms
up at dawn with stifled yawns; pulling on boots
feeding pigs and herding cows - stuck in mud, it’s raining now
and as I plough, I dream of life... not on a farm
of white walled castles crowned in gold (like the tales told of old)
where beautiful princesses dance and laugh
(with roaring fires in their hearths) blowing kisses at princes
brave and bold - none of them shivering, miserably cold
but dreams are dreams, and so I plough
heir to acres; fit and well (and down in the village, there is this girl)
I have no castle, but I’ll ask for her hand
in time, a son, and new prince of this land
am I just this fleeting moment
a ripple in time's flow
shackled to one body
must follow when it goes
or is there more to 'being'
an eternal flame that burns
and though my mortal flesh must die
the soul within returns
most now say we have 'one shot'
so live a life that's full
and while, in part, I see their point
I hate to think that's all
with countless years in history's wake
and many yet to come
my impact on the universe
so very close to none?
I need to feel there's so much more
some meaning or some goal
a reason why, a wider plan
that paints a bigger 'whole'
so I'll take the path that makes most sense
there's more to life than seems
and maybe I'm just passing through
... a ghost in this machine
spires stretch heavenward in a twilight sky
crimson hues and nighttime blues do battle
as people lope lazily over a dusky bridge
like cattle with cameras;
snapping the domed limestone giant
below, boatmen skim across a shimmering mirror
reflecting fragmented moments
cast down from the world above
floating like flotsam; lifeblood
coursing through the city’s stone heart
amid those masses, we watched
the shadows grow steadily longer
and balls of soft lamplight glow gently brighter
until, suspended in the darkening air
they floated like no post was there
then, just like that -
the city shrugged off day’s last light
wrapping herself in the mysteries of night
where amorous wishes and twisting seine scenes
led to candlelit kisses and solitaire dreams
know thyself; is your life on the right track
aligned with, refined by, the principles of dharma
refrain, abstain, be kind and be calmer
meditate, seek meaning: find moral momentum
all actions count on this trip to nirvana
The Nightmare Of Marcus Dean
Marcus Alouitious Montgomery Dean
Dined on bowls of chocolates, doughnuts, bagels and cream.
Until one night he awoke with a scream,
Being eaten, he thought in a terrible dream,
By a bagel, a doughnut, some chocolates and cream.
Barry Stebbings
09/13/18
Walk here with me
Along a strand of island in the sea
Let your heart drink like a leaf
From this mighty river
That shaped the world's relief
Listen to his name
Hear echoes of white colonial history
The burden of shame
Edging the teeth of fame
Chew it down to the middle bone
Feel the tension rise it
Like pimento fragrance preserving the night
Of Egyptian slime pits
And the prince denouncing privilege and place
Not so, not so here
For him who took up the cudgel of our race
The farmers boy
Built brick by brick from a builder's dream
This native scion ... out of the Maroon's citadel
This bewitching monument of St. Ann.
Ah Booker did you know
A man with bigger head for a mightier dream
From Panama to Ecuador
From Costa Rica to Brazil
Did your heart like a drum pound
Boom, boom, baba boom
When he clenched the lock of Africa's door
When every pulpit in the street
Became a university of our history
And freedom in every African child
Was Marcus Mosiah Garvey
Booker, did you see his kingdom
His black institutions
Like a galaxy dreamers could touch
His ships
On which the brothermen still wait
Like an armada sailing
From rubber baron shores
To pyramid pinnacle
They were his Icarus
And he our Daedalus
That could not shake the minotaur
But, Booker, did he not say
To look for him in the wind
So now you know why I never sleep again
His footprints are still here
Clear as the foment of nineteen thirty eight
This is where he carved his name
Not just on the printers page
But on the honor of all the age
Making us dream of civil rights
And human rights
And Rastafarian flight
And reparation for our plight
And above all he taught me
A little black face lover of his fight
Never to bow
My mind to the whore's tradition
Never to yield my soul
For I am a nobler structure that my rank here
I am the prince they striped bare
The Moses that have not see my red sea yet
The child still
Enthralled with the splendor of every sunset
Marcus Mosiah Garvey arose from a little town, yes my lord
A Leo lifting Harlem, kingdom bound, yes my lord
Resuscitated religion around the black man’s looks, yes my lord
Cuddling pickaxe, hoe, and cradling books, yes my lord
Umpire of Freedom from home to foreign land, yes my lord
Seeker of justice from Costa Rica, Nicaragua to Panama, man, yes, yes my lord
Master of the African destiny, this man could dream, yes my lord
Overtures of empire, black starliner on the Atlantic stream, yes my lord
Sentinel and soldier, O Booker T’s light giver, yes my lord
Itinerant leader from island to continents, the diviner, yes my lord
Athletic word maker speaking truth to power, yes O my lord
Sequester again the UNIA at this defining hour, yes my lord.
Greatness is sometimes attributed, sometimes achieved, yes my lord
Africa’s proud son, both in you we believed, yes my lord
Regal was the call you made: “Up you mighty race!” yes my lord
Venerable the acts you did standing to the governor’s face, yes my lord
Earth has no better soul, or Jamaica another child, yes O my lord
Yielding everything to heal the lambs defiled, yes, yes my lord
How shall we see again the great black visions of grandeur, yes my lord
Evoking in cultureless voids Africa’s splendor, yes my lord
Royalty reduced to slavery would not crawl the dust, yes my lord
Once liberated minds can fly where only eagles lust, yes my lord
We heap up your tributes now that your dead, yes my lord
England’s queen can sleep without a dungeon for her bed, yes my lord
Men who dream are imprisoned to bury their dreams, yes my lord
Instead those dreams prove finite walls too poor, yes my lord
Superior imagination to tame, and brighter still gleams, yes my lord
So when the wind blows look for him at the door, yes my lord
Yapping Hoover at his heels lied on him to stall him, yes my lord
Over in Jamaica, he broke the walls of prison grim, yes my lord
Uncle Marcus, great hero, O how we miss him, yes, yes O my lord
I never really noticed your blue;
hidden under transparent shields
screaming to be noticed... or something.
Just came across as angry or sad,
wanting to forget some bad...
but not blue, never that.
Not the kind to bind a knot;
throw their lot in with chance's whim
to test if fate says sink or swim
and lose...
MARCUS JOHNSON aka NICK FURY AGENT OF SHIELD
Marcus Johnson aka Nicolas Joseph Fury Jr.
African-American
Former Army Ranger
NOW chief Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Mother of Marcus was CIA Agent
Fell in love with Agent Fury also CIA Agent
Together co-created birth son
Marcus Johnson
Nick Fury: Agent of Shield
8/27/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Stephanus Marcus Book I
Canto2
Verses 4 and 5
The hunting parties ride in teams of three.
Each force has falcon trained in cage for prey.
Groups make a wager paying needed fee,
pot goes to winner by the close of day.
Sir Cedric rides a mare a handsome bay,
this knight was baron tenured late of date.
King Richard gave him title Easter day,
but he joined James' cabal and waited fate.
Black knight willed more, his avaricious mind to sate.
Another threesome hunting prey till night
was Marquis Daenon, noble great of Thale.
Duke Lighten, grave of Hallow Castle's might,
and Sire Ben Brooster never known to fail.
All fine men ranged the fields for hare and quail,
ducks, rabbits, pheasants using peregrines.
Duke Saint Charles made them feel at ease on trail,
now often showing antler deers and hinds.
To nobles fine his lackeys gave assorted wines.
copper burns across an endless sky
competing caws claim salt, surf and sand
sailing high above slowly sagging carcasses
long forgotten at the edge of the world
buckled rails swim over a shimmering shingle sea
the largest of its kind, hinting at some other time;
engines once chugged to billingsgate from this beach
herring bound for the cinque ports
and they say women dragged each boat -
pulled them down to that shore’s faithless embrace;
the muttered prayers of mothers and daughters
casting their men out on fortune’s dark waters
now nets, set for a tide that came and went, lay
mouldering among those collapsing clinkers
as if the fisherfolk just left one night, fled
granting the gulls sole control of that desolate dominion
their toil and trade, the legacy of our fathers’ fathers
still lays there on that beach; haunts that huge cove
rich history, like in so many places, fading away
rotting, rusting, ruined
Stephanus Marcus Book 1
Canto 4
Verses 4 and 5
This blow dealt most hard broke Marcus's glaive
and second strike that Cedric gave hurt knight.
Ben Brooster laid Sir Marcus low with stave.
The blow put knight upon the clay - bad sight!
Then came to aid at Marcus's side full might
of Morley's blade that skewered Brooster clean.
Now Liege did pain and chase Black Knight to flight,
but Sinefred bold renewed attack with spleen.
With madding fury he did strike Lord Morley mean.
And Sinefred rained down blows on Morley's shield.
The strikes are double number those returned.
The older knight now tires but won't yet yield,
it's Marcus's time to be now quite concerned.
Black Knight's hand wave to Sinefred now is spurned.
The sword of Bleadershame wants Morley's life.
In speeded action - ho - the battle churned.
With mace Sir Marcus enters new the strife.
For he wants Morley Liege again to see his wife.
Stephanus Marcus Book 1
Canto 4
Verses 6 and 7
In saddle he attacks Sir Sinefred's shield
and smites with mace red buckler giving baste.
Duke Morley reins his steed from fight to yield
to Marcus; Leopard strikes again in haste
and makes Sir Sinefred's shield a dented waste.
The blows are given, taken three for three,
but Sinefred's armor's taking great lambaste.
Then mace with force hits plate around his knee.
Now Sword of Bleadershame doth harken Cedric's plea.
The Blade of Bleadershame doth rein back white
and takes self right where Cedric waits uneased.
Together gallop fleet to find more might
and seek the way to rule the dale as pleased.
Thus Saint, alas, will see the dale not seized
and Morley hailed the victor great in strife.
This late cool afternoon of day is breezed
as by the Patron Saint of Morley's wife.
Such benediction blesses knights, his soul and life
Stephanus Marcus Book 1
Canto 5
Verses 8 and 9
"Lord Marmaduke is second option, Saint.
A knight that smiles much I do like with me,
and ye choose Marmaduke without complaint?
If ye nod yea, your way then may it be.
That noble liege of fame soon I will see.
Now he both always doeth my desire
and seeks to please the throne expressing glee.
Forsooth, one knows his garments need not fire.
This knight of merry disposition, I'll not tire."
King Richard liked not Saint's excuses lame.
When he returned from holy Ashkelon,
reward for being stubborn he would name.
Lord Marmaduke was no bad hangeron,
of reputation being fine bon ton.
Now he could fight and sword was useful glaive,
as line commander he could show baton.
Among the knights, king's pennant he would wave.
King's mind foresaw the many souls lost they could save.
white capped peaks appear then go
cresting mountains blue and green
with prayers that triton’s spear won’t show
we cross what lays between
old skalds tell of the tempest’s wrath
this realm no man’s to own
if careless of the swell and trough
you’ll reap the seeds you’ve sewn
with wary looks cast overboard
caulked timbers flex and cry
and oaths that seek divine accord
entreat the leaden sky
I promise I’ll go between no more
I’ll not sail again I swear
but then I itch to leave the shore
to once more be out there
so I’ll live in fear of her cold embrace
of the pull and her sway over me
when she calls my name with guileful grace
my mistress of the sea