Best Neo Poems
Africana, a poem that details the pre - colonial, colonial and post -colonial Africa, her rich history, struggles and unique cultural heritage in a picturesque execution.
Africa will Rise Up Tall,Bold, and rule the Earth again
But first Africans must be Africans and more, not more and black.
Mathew R, 2014.
initiator, AFRICANA - the movement ©
AFRICANA (A Poem )
"Our forebears broke kola nuts
And offered prayers
To the benevolent maker,
Whose name varied from one tribe to another.
They lived in peace and harmony."
This was way before
The meek white missionaries
Made landing on our shores.
Africana
They condemned our customs and traditions.
They said our ways were too primitive.
So they burnt down our shrines
And in its stead,
They gave us their three C's.
(Christianity, civilization and commerce)
Africana
These white saviours, in their glowing white robes Baptised our forebears
In the name of the Father, his Son and his Holy Spirit.
Whilst our fore-elders learnt how to pray,
They formed a government,
And on our natural Resources they preyed.
Africana
Albeit their government lynched our forebears.
In the church,
Both the oppressed and their oppressors
Screamed amen.
From two conspicuously separated rows;
The salvation bringers occupied the front seats
The back seats, sanctified for the blacks.
And they said their God was impartial.
Africana
They captured, tortured and shipped
Our forebears to the americas;
To work their cane plantations,
Cotton fields, paddy fields, sugar plants.
The unfortunate ones, thrown overboard
To swim Frank's ocean.
Africana
And many centuries after their first landing.
We, the descendants of former slaves,
Rose from our slumber
And fought for Africa's uhuru.
This freedom many willingly laid down their lives...
And when at last,
We were declared independence,
Our struggle for survival begun.
Godwin Henry Osaigbovo Pa Shakespeare
Neo*,
My beamish boy,
Who slayed 'The Jabberwock'.
"Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
My friend.
---
*Neo is part Blue Heeler, part mongrel and all good. Mostly.
Lines used from Lewis Carrolls 'Jabberwocky'.
Staring in the mirror,
listening to a tune or two;
quite a few.
Feeling overwhelming,
yet, spanking brand new.
Heart spinning to a rhythm,
deja vu',
once before, a simple, yet complex groove.
Moving, swaying, got me saying,
that's my jam!!!!
that's my cut,
that's what's up!!!!
Like Ascension,
Maxwell,
cast his spell,
as he tells me "Don't ever wonder"
and in an instant, seems I never do.
Then all of a sudden,
out of the blue,
I hear Erykah Badu,
carrying me 'On and On'
got my "cycle moving like a rolling stone"!!!!
I screeeam with all my might
"Love, oooh love, so many people use your name in vain"
As the tears start to flow to the basin,
Musiq Soulchild let's me know it's all gonna be okay.
As Angie Stone,
comes along,
co-signing it,
with "No more rain in this cloud"
My sunshine brings to my face a smile.
After a word from our sponsor,
still standing before the mirror,
legs feelin' kinda weak and sore,
can't quite understand...... why, nor
what for???.
Then Jill Scott ,
reminds me with the
" long walk,(we took) around the block, after dark"
it seems to spark,
another zone,
of an reflection,
of the trip that we've been on.
Whew
still swaying, got me saying,
I can't believe I let her do this to me.
Looking at the mirror with a smile,
I hear,
Bilal, with his style,
let me know,
the explanation,
before Jill let go,
"You must be my soul sista, soul sista!!"
all I can say is Whoa!
India Arie re-affirms it ,
with the music, her guitar begins to play,
saying" I'm not your average girl from your video,my worth is not determined by the price of my clothes",
had my sister yellin' in the other room,
"because I am a queen"
it seems.
It seems, the radio,
was ready to let me go,
at the end of the DJ's show,
then he hit me with some D'Angelo.
asking" how does it feel???".
Me standing there responding to the mirror,
quite clear,
Brand spankin' new,
in my mind,
with each melody,
each line,
I'm good as gold,
reborn,
from the depths,
with my neo-soul!!!!
The Black Crime Syndicate
The Neo Crime Family
The Black Crime Family
The Jade Dragons
The Green Nation
Cyber Crime Family
Black Crime Syndicate
Neo Crime Family
Black Crime Family
Jade Dragons
The Green Nation
Cyber Crime Family
Creeping tendrils, fungal cordyceps, grabbing hamstrings by the bone,
Stunting pain in muscled biceps, stretch as if they work alone.
No matter far nor long I run, no matter time, not record,
Confidence degenerates in ton, and waste is felt in effort.
Mind is but contained—by signal—swiveled text from cornered row.
Watching bounces—screens—too seen, in later times I shouldn’t know.
I can hear now lampposts hum, against my windowpanes,
Whispered effervescent hymns, “'tis late you scattered brains.”
No Signal floats in silent strokes, laughing at my gaze,
Whose lack of locus out of focus, undeveloped micros—soft amaze.
Operating systems; hidden files twitch betwixt glitched fingers' flick.
Tracked strokes, glued electric hitch, to melt around the wick.
Which witch or whose hurt vocal pitch, has hounded throats sucked dry?
Mine own is cuckold by songman’s itch, to stitch this lyric higher.
Vyvanse tickles subvocalization: Schizophrenic telepathy.
Hearing echoed me(s) in nation: "We’re better as entelechy."
I want a better world, I see it in my mind,
When I have the energy in bursts, to see what’s left behind.
“We’re more than this," says drunken me, to the overdosed drugged mind.
“We’re less than this," says sober me, to the hopeless handed kind.
From which does hope arise; the latter: Joy's annihilation?
Or the former, and hides inside of Anger's continuation?
I’m lost inside a tesseract, four dimensions fighting war.
Between the self-suicide pact; 'tis but a wish for lore.
NEO NATIVITY
Metal ghosts of Detroit's best
held together by rust and secrets,
stacked five high, squashed and bent
each holds memories-
good times in their back seats
family trips to the shore,
drive-in movies,
kids sleeping in the back
on the ride home from Christmas.
They may not be pretty
but they do provide shelter.
They cut the wind
and block the rain,
so she cowered beneath a wall of them.
Face illuminated by lightning
and pain
she pulled him close;
this man, Jose, who agreed,
she clutches at him
and wears his strength.
No scratch for a motel,
no rooms to be had anyway,
and the Mustang died
a couple of miles outside of town.
The walk here in the rain
was the least fun she could recall,
until her water broke,
joining the squalor at her feet
and the labor began in earnest.
The moment is real
and as near as her next breath
the pain that grips her
steals that breath
then gives it back in a rushing whoosh.
She births, as women have done
for millenia
but she does it
in this mechanical graveyard.
A few moments of agony later
Maria was a mother
and her life had now taken a new direction.
When the sky finally cleared
she rocked her new son,
wrapped in a vinyl tarp,
and watched a single brilliant star
flare to life over her head.
Megalopolis wants growing whenever,
Even she was full of wealth and honor,
Swallowing lots of loser and goner,
But she's still growing and stops it never.
Megalopolis wants flowing forever,
She washed away people into ruined darkness,
She washed away people from blessed happiness,
But she's still flowing and stops it never.
Yes, people were tired to live in noisy light,
Love was too gloomy, heavy and sticky,
All bonds worked as only restriction to self.
See, people hoped to live in silent night,
Truth was too weak, faith was too picky,
Loneliness was the only way to guard self.
20/Jan/2016
Fengleishanren.
When they wallow in luxury
Yet groan in their greed,
Restless as restless could be;
Not aware of self's real need,
Nor listening to wisdom's words,
Too sure of their crooked creed;
-They could have flown like birds
Quite individual and free,
Not driven by desire in herds-
Not crown but scum of the city,
They deserve not awe but our pity.
Ever brew tea in an industrial brewer?
I did just yesterday with a tea bag fewer
then more have seen. I watched it drip
mixing water with steam and drip leaving
lines in between, the loose leaves.of tea.
A star pattern there when I peeked to see
what a tea maker brews inside of a T.
And when the heat hit my eyes I realized
what was so familiar to me...'do mine path'
was inscribed in the leaves.
I considered to know what I believe.
I paused to consider what might deceive.
Just and before I tossed the leaves.
... smiles.
you ARE a dope and I'm knot mean. Just
neurotic transmission of the secret unseen.
A VEnue open to peace in the mind
blowing open holes that Time left behind.
It's a network framed in a windy rhyme.
It's a new avenue and a way to be kind.
Well.come.to the filters mind. A pleasure
of a center that we all can find.
Neurotransmitter. A natural ChiMe.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dopamine
Dopamine was first synthesized in 1910 by George Barger and James Ewens at Wellcome
Laboratories in London, England.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qi
Ch'i
Qi
It is frequently translated as "energy flow," and is often compared to Western notions of
energeia or élan vital (vitalism) as well as the yogic notion of prana. The literal
translation is "air," "breath," or "gas" (compare the original meaning of Latin spiritus
"breathing"; or the Common Greek p?e?µa, meaning "air," "breath," or "spirit"; and the
Sanskrit term prana, "breath" ).
There are new thoughts
Phoenix rising
from the ashes of the old days
Neo-Amerikan philosophy
is a walk on the Wild West side
Gun-slinging strange love dimensions,
old underground frontiers freshly silo demented
It’s a new pre-emptive day
for old-gen mushroom hippies
Shooting fungi bullets up in the air
from their fissure flower guns
Dropping the mystery day psychedelic H-bombs,
watching the stealth fireworks ...
A winter glow that never fades
Neo-Amerikan philosophy
be assembling
the war hawks around the Oval table
Pass martial law,
no more congressional vote
Democracy got the hanging chad Marx rope
Trumped up national security probable cause
triggers the panic protocol
Giving the impotent Republic voters a Caesar
Apathetic dummy crash
the cracked Liberty Bell experimental car —
no more Philadelphia date freedom
Neo-Amerikan philosophy
Fourth Reich theology
New Bolshevik revised history
Pre-emptive strike,
no more Union loyal dissent
Neo-Amerikan philosophy
be Phoenix rising
Old Egyptian idolatry ways
independently witnessed by
a new summer Fourth of July
nuclear winter plumage blaze
When they wallow in luxury
Yet groan in their greed,
Restless as restless could be;
Not aware of self's real need,
Nor listening to wisdom's words,
Too sure of their crooked creed;
-They could have flown like birds
Quite individual and free,
Not driven by desire in herds-
Not crown but scum of the city,
They deserve not awe but our pity.
When they wallow in luxury
Yet groan in their greed,
Restless as restless could be;
Not aware of self's real need,
Nor listening to wisdom's words,
Too sure of their crooked creed;
-They could have flown like birds
Quite individual and free,
Not driven by desire in herds-
Not crown but scum of the city,
They deserve not awe but our pity.
I would like to thank you for your visit.
I have removed these poems for a distant future book publication.
I believe we poets, can make a difference
in this world. We live in the 21st century,
we have tools( technology), we have our past, and imagination.
We just don't have the courage, because
I guess most are afraid to fail, to loose money.
All I have to say is we can't take money with us,
when we die. I also say hasn't mankind failed enough,
and isn't mankind worth the effort, our children is worth the effort..
Thank you, and my your God Bless you
John E WordSlinger
"Why you sitting out here Dele?",
She squeaked.
"You gonna be those tiny bitters' food!",
She exclaimed.
If there ever was more to Ollie,
It'd be more squeaks and exclaims.
I sits on the stairs out on the porch.
She makes to draw myself up,
I stay stubborn still.
Even in ninety, I still got flesh;
Not only sack of bones, so I still heavy.
She sighs loud,
And takes a space beside me,
Then she turns to look at what in my sight,
Over the wall- the Sunset Condo.
It been in my view for sometimes now.
"What find your interest there?".
She chuckles, honey-sweet.
"You find a lucky new wife?"
My lips stay together.
I see her scratch her arm,
One of them bitters already got her.
They don't come for me,
I already dried up and wasted,
I already old.
"No one wants to be themselves anylong." I mutter.
"When they looking in the mirror, they desires to be others."
I turn to look at Ollie,
Looking youngish like she don't age a bit.
Tears roll down her sweet cheeks,
The front door opens,
"Come on Grandpa, let's go inside."
I hear a girl say.
"Ollie?"
Ollie's still beside me,
She's still cries.
"Why you cries Ollie?"
"Not again Grandpa!"
The girl voice exclaims,
"Not again with the Ollie!"
I don't mind the girl's voice,
She's stays background,
Only Ollie here.
Don't cry Ollie, I want to say,
But strong hands lift me up,
"Dele? Dele?"
This voice is male and deep.
"Ollie's crying." I say
I looks up to the man.
"Ollie looks sad."
I say, and point to Ollie who still looking away.
"Let's just go back inside Dele, and we'll talk about it."
I looks in his round big eyes and see Ollie a bit.
I turn around;
Ollie's gone,
"Your ma's not here, is she?".