Best Notably Poems
For years I wore
your shame as my own
and lived unknown
in terror of being seen
like a leper
self-quarantined
intrinsically unclean
Your neglect
became to me
my insignificance
undeserving of your glance
Your abuse
became to me
my fault and utter blame
my soiled but rightful name
Your abandonment
to me
was my unworthiness
unfit and valueless
'Til this layered shame became
a camouflaging cloak
wrapped about with care
disguising me as if
I wasn't even there
How I avoided them
my friends so true
for they could plainly see
the agony in me
and I couldn't control
it radiating through
Yet butterflies won't stay bound
in crippling cocoons
integrity impugned
by wings that cannot fly-
and I at last have found
the answer to my wounds
in exposing you
and all your lies
You were cruel-
I do matter
You were guilty-
I am not to blame
You were unfit-
I am worthy
You nearly destroyed me-
But I overcame
Now my only dread is
of leaving this world
as un-notably as I came
as invisibly as I lived
to be known only
by others
as unredeemed as
you thought me to be-
No! the truth
will set me free...
I humbly give
this cloak to you
it was yours to wear
not mine to share
I'm through
I'm through
I'm through.
With pen I write to thee, Elizabeth
Whose comments I have noticed notably
No words can describe inspirations width
That thou has given unto my poetry
When writers block crippled my mental thought
Your adoration for my poems emerged
And distant from the Soup feeling distraught
Your views and kind reviews calmly converged
How could I tell, How should I know, My love
Are titles that your talents tell in rhyme
For you yourself, an author whom I love
Hath seasoned stanzas with the herb of thyme
Though distant as the lost and troubled winds
I hope to always be poetic friends
Agile
Black
Cats
Dart
Eerily
From
Gloomy
Hallways
Initiating
Jolts -
Killing
Lackadaisical
Moods
Notably
Of
People
Quintessentially
Ruffled -
Spooking
Them
Unduly -
Verifying
Wanted
Xenial
Yearnings
ZAPPED
Nov. 9, 2021
for William Kekaula's Alphabet Soup Poetry Contest
Notably quotably
Poetry's potency
Metrical dictation
Meditation
Cozily, dozily
Wordably herbal tea
Personification
Medication
1/7/2021
I'm concerned with the lack of common sense:
notably missing when it's needed most.
And while its absence comes at our expense,
nothing else can match it, not even close.
It once would mitigate anger and greed,
and yet, lately, it has been a no-show.
I pray for its return to thought and deed
if it's still relevant; I'd like to know.
It once untangled impossible knots,
for common sense could cut right through the lies.
But it's missing; try connecting the dots
for it's why anarchy is on the rise.
Incredible in nature, diverse in settlement
a home to the big five beasts
and a constant retailer to glory takers
of distance running in the global games event.
The scrolls of its historic make up
are chaptered by the hunter-gatherer groups;
their replacement by the agropastoralist Cushitic speakers
from the so notably called Horn of Africa;
then the Nilotic-speaking pastoralists
and finally to the migration of Bantu speaking farmers from West Africa.
Significant is the archeoastronomical sites
in the west side of Lake Turkana and in Migori county,
the awesome wildlife of the migrating great wildebeest,
the notable event of Princess Elizabeth’s climbing of its tree
just to come down from it as a Queen;
or the scary tale of two mad lions in Tsavo
are interesting outlooks even in its present day existence.
Tourism, flowers, Tea and Coffee are the beautifiers of its kitchen
yet gross poverty, child labour and prostitution defecate in its corners.
Sadly typical of a geography attributed to the dark continent,
but hope lingers, never giving up, with plans to hit visible strides
conspicuous three decades after the new millennium
setting a systems international unit for a crying baby continent
to become a competing healthy looking Adult.
While textualizing history
(now after nearly 24 centuries)
Of the Battle of the ‘Vitasta,’ or ‘Hydaspes’
Or the Jhelum (a name now common),
There’s bound to be some swerve,
Which is how (according to Bloom)
Poetry is born—
Now that there are claims and counter-claims:
Alexander conquered India,
(by courtesy of Arrian);
No, he fled, a hypothesis
As advanced, notably by Zhukov
(Who, it is claimed, would know
A fleeing force if he saw one).
How did Zhukov happen to see
Alexander's army fleeing?
GOK!
But this is not an attempt to romanticize the battle,
Glorifying either Alexander and his Bucephalus
Or King Porus and his valiant elephant.
Now, if we go by Arrian, what’s the bottom line?
You were wounded, King Porus,
But it did not matter to you in the least;
But your elephant was killed,
Which decided the end of the great battle.
You fought fiercely— till the end.
So did your men,
But only until you collapsed.
Then they started fleeing
As would any troop in those times—
In the circumstances.
And they were chased by the Greek garrison (in reserve)
That joined from across the Jhelum—
A neat plan that Alexander had thought out
And it worked.
Alas, for want of a rider,… the battle was lost!
Come to think of it,
Yours after all was a top-down system,
As was any such system (Alexander’s included),
Until modern times, which would collapse,
Like a quake-hit city,
When the leader falls.
But that was not the end of the story.
The best is yet to be, as we know.
For you, Porus, it was dignity even in defeat.
And Alexander happened to be
The truest friend and noblest foe.
You, now in chains, asked to be treated as a King.
So, you were reinstated and made the Satrap
(the Governor of the Greek Dominon).
The lesson (or one of the lessons)
that we have learnt from your battle,
King Porus, is this:
Any good team should have a Second-in-command!
***
My BROTHERS --the Cherokee ---you may refer to me as cross-breed-- or not.
As an ancestor ----if it’s your aspiration?
My Grandmother----half Cherokee- half Blackfoot----as the old tales were told.
Citizenship with your sovereignty —till she was three—that I discovered-
with-in her descendants origin.
My Grandmother ---bought off your reservation after your----- relocation.
Bought by my Grandfather a “white-man” -------to the root!!
172 years belated —consider this --a cross-breeds apology--an accolade --to your entire-
nation.
A nation and PEOPLE-- forcibly removed in 1838-----by the U.S. Government.
Hundreds of Cherokee died----- Who Walked the Trail of Tears.
A NATION and PEOPLE-- vehemently abolished in 1838.
By the U.S. Government---with-in President Andrew Jackson’s administration.
Consider this a cross-breeds apology --with a symbol- ----eternally existing.
Of the anguish and affliction on the Trail Where They Cried--- the symbol of the Cherokee-
rose--that still grows------- that still grows!
Consider this a cross-breeds Tribute to Those Who Walked --that Trail --filled with-
Cherokee Tears.
No words can justify-- no expression can advocate --- what Jackson’s administration-
arranged.
No apology, no apology, would seem adequate or tolerable---to ONE human race.
Notably ----your NATIVE RACE!!
Innumerable thousands have spoken their inadequate and intolerable claims.
Knowing only one and only one-- honest, respectful, faithful, and trustworthy vindication-
would have sufficed.
Consider this-- cross-breeds desire for -----Forgiveness.
Forgiveness for any ancestral involvement---in the mass genocide of your civilization.
Healing our nation --from OUR CURSE—must embark from hear—hear at forgiveness.
Forgiveness extended by --OUR CREATOR---to our race and yours.
By : WEM/MEW/EWM
Wordless worries wander wearily working wayward,
Towards thoughts transgressing truth’s textured tide.
As always acknowledging agnosticism’s appeal,
Essence easily evaporates, exeunt Emile.
Very virtuous violent vowels vociferously validate,
Sanctimonious sessions some subtly sacrosanct.
Is it in incrementally immense ingenious imaginations,
Or ontology’s omniscience overcoming oceanic oratory?
Roughly rallying rage’s recessive righteousness,
Quickly quartered queens quietly quiver qualities quoi.
Under unctuous undeniably Umbrian utterances,
An astute and acute awareness as always arose.
Placing plausibly proverbial prevaricating predications,
Many morose morally myopic manly mighty men,
Eulogize everlasting ephemerally entertaining evocations.
Insinuating incredible implications, insomnia initiates,
Notably nullifying notoriously negligible nihilistic necessities.
Lies lay low, linking lofty linguistic lessons like laws,
Of optional opportunities oscillating on occult overtures
Until underlying unctions unify ubiquitous unknowns.
Joyless Joseph’s joyful Joy just jumped, just jumped!
Killing killjoy knuckle kosher korma koranic krap.
And announce another anonymous anodyne appointment?
(Empiricism’s emphatic emission, enter erotic Eloise).
Having Heidegger helps, hope’s homunculi hunting human.
Get gone ginger guesses, go grope Ginger’s grapes!
Immaculately ironic inquisitions instigate immediate impositions.
Once onto opaque ominous orbs, obey Oracles open orders.
Framing funny fractions, flaming far flung frivolous fictions,
Death defies dollar damnations, deliciously done devaluations.
Usually uncle umpire understands useful underlying ululations,
Also affirming apples avuncular altruistic assumptions.
Creeds crave caves, charms calm cause, come conquerors,
Be belligerently bad, betray birth’s beginning, balance budgets.
Entreating entirely empty, emphatically elusive, existential entelechy,
Is, importantly, incommensurably idiotic, inexplicably impractical indeed.
Philosophers, down the ages,
Have strenuously tried
To figure out language:
Their numerous narratives polarize
Into two Grand narratives, a binary:
Language is referential / differential.
This binary has yielded numerous derivatives.
On the referential side, for instance,
There’s the view that language is an instrument,
As advanced notably by Aristotle, Bhamaha and Dandin.
On the differential side, we have
Saussure’s notion:
Language is a system of differences
(without any positive terms).
Derrida, for his part, widened it:
Language is infinitely differential,
As suggested by his coinage differance,
which implies: language is
slippery, radically unstable,
which, in turn, gave rise to
mind-boggling derivatives
in this postmodern world!
Some of them are: Derrida’s (own) freeplay
of the (autonomous) sign,
Bloom’s (willful) misreading,
And Lyotard’s (incommensurable) language games
(which we all play in this postmodern space willy-nilly)
All these differences have led
Often to acrimonious disputes,
Couched, of late, in a language
that abounds in ambiguity
and neatly underpinned by illogic!
The predicament of these philosophers (old or new) is:
What they and we all observe
is not language-in-itself,
but language as seen by us—
which is similar to what Heisenberg said about nature!
These disputes remind us
of the dispute among the six characters,
in the age-old parable,
which reportedly originated in the Indian Rigveda.
(but now found in several belief systems).
It’s the parable of the six men
(as narrated by John Godfrey Saxe)
Wherein the characters tried
To figure out an elephant,
which, unfortunately, none of them
Had the faculty to see:
So, one called it soft and mushy;
for another it was like a snake;
for the third, it was fan-like,
And so on.
Thus, they “disputed loud and long,
Though each was partly in the right
…and all were [rightly] in the wrong!"
***
Love and care
It is movables love plus care
Obtained to our mom
It real love I dare
We found from our real mom
It is loved future seen
Given by our black mom
Love and fear
It is totally fear
Regenerated from our dad
Though it is clear
Good manner from our dad
Love and help
Help me my blood sister
We are born to assist each other and not fight
My direction and teacher
Show me where to reach my peace fetcher
Love and fight
Let me look
Behold my little best
Israel and Pakistan,
The brotherhood states never best
Me and you
Not sister and you
Construct a developmental fight
A peaceful fight
Though I’m a real Sudanese
I can cope to be a real sweetish
Love and life
Never pretend a knife
Cutting a beef life
You are the husband of the wife
Blame me not
I’m in life
Censure me not
I gonna have a real life
To see my back not to admire my fore
Love and care and fear and help and fight and life
A real and definite friend do
An exe and a hole
Other dig and the other cut
Let us become
The knife of peace
To cut the beef of wars
The reddish of betrayal
Likely, notably the blackness of poverty
Death and life—literal or figural?
Maybe both,
Now that there can be death in life or life in death,
As for poets, notably, Bharati and Yeats.
The dialogue between Arjuna and Krishna:
Is it interpersonal or intrapersonal?
Darsan or Epiphany—cling to it we would,
For seeing is believing.
The commandments, though heard,
Had to be attested by the burning bush.
Aha! Come to think of it,
Could Darsan as well be figural—
As is vipasana?
As is epiphany for Joyce?
A shorthand like light years?
***
Tinker Bell dwells well in my mind,
Helping me find the words to use,
Endearing enough to help choose
Radiant qualities that blind.
Alluring my mind from behind,
Charm is in the arms of my muse,
Handing me lines I can not lose,
Engaging enough to be kind.
Lyrical miracles flow free,
Qualified to be the unique,
Uncommon qualities we see.
Incredible enough to speak
Notably of? Enough for me!
Noticeable enough to seek!
Blue jeans, “Blue” of a hard-working Father.
Blue suits, which exudes ownership and leadership.
Biblical Blue, in a verse, note “that at around God’s throne,"
has some sapphire Blue.
The first heaven seen above, notably is sky Blue.
The “Medal of honor;” color Blue, represents:
Vigilance, Perseverance and Justice.
All of which a very good Father should have or acquire.
True Blue, should be known of all true loving Fathers.
There were exiguous Fathers explores and some as a sailor.
A nautical traverse done over the deep Blue seas.
Men then and men now fulfilling their family's needs.
A notable Father's commissioned service sacrifice deeds.
Lapis, Sapphire, Turquoise has stone colors of Blue.
Some Emblems on flags, forever, flying, free.
Also, to be wearing proudly on a navy Blue arm-sleeve.
In his arms holding baby child for their first bottle milk feed.
A new Father's life, that is now much more real.
"True Blue," a Father with the most zealous of zeals.
IS THAT A TRIVIAL TRIFLE OR A RIFLE?
Weightless
Weightless while watching ripples row their way across a wading pool
A pool that portended peace
A peaceful pool in the coolness of a kiss in springtime
A scene of serenity
Weightless
Thinking
Unblinking
Sinking into a pool of my own
A pool of thought
Caught somewhere between actuality and a playground in Poughkeepsie
And the thought occurs to me
No longer a blur to me
But crystal clear
As I consider the word “trivia” as in those trivia games people play
One might choose to say that I have a dispute with “Trivial Pursuit”
Well for just a moment or two let’s examine, explore, expose and exhume if you will
The meaning of the word “trivia”
Now I don’t own a dictionary, nor does anyone nearby
But as far as I can tell
The root word of “trivia” is trivial
As in unimportant, inconsequential, insignificant, and most notably
Trifling
And so I’m rifling through the attics and dungeons of my medulla oblongata
And I gotta say, in reference to these trivial games
No matter how convivial the participants are
I’m not spending hours being asked frivolous questions
And hearing petty answers
Answers that may be wrong or right
And thus to be edified and educated by the inconsequential
Meaning, in essence, of no consequence to anyone
At anytime
In any place
But that’s just my opinion
Coming from someone who comes dangerously close to being labeled a fool
Weightless
Weightless while watching water in a wading pool
Floating
And noting the trivial and trifling
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