Best Quakers Poems
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.
Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace.
And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure,
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.
Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.
Your abundant display of floccinaucinihilipilification
Has been established from the time of conception
Like a rotten fruit shaken to its kinetic destination
Is this not what the world expects from this generation?
Beaten into submission by the depreciation of individuality
We have conformed to the ‘it’s all about me’ mantra of impartiality
Boldly pusillanimous which enhances our real appearance of frailty
Covered up by the tinseled boulder of youthfully exuberant gaity
Just like the Quakers decided we were the ignorant ideal in their initial determinism
Then soon conveniently revised it in keeping with exhibition of popular barbarianism
You and I have been fickle in our choice which has down played truth of expressionism
Being on the fence has undermined our value; oh if only we embraced humanitarianism
It is not “P. C.” to be anti-war,
Or to refuse to stuff one’s face with meat.
Quakers are not pacifists anymore
By definition. It’s not like before.
These things are individual. We can cheat.
It is not “P. C.” to be anti-war.
We cannot break an invisible law.
We rubbed it out, you see. I should repeat:
Quakers are not pacifists anymore.
Some are. Some aren’t. There’s nothing we stand for.
We can have bacon, toast or Shredded Wheat.
It is not “P. C.” to be anti-war –
To be vegetarian, vegan or
In any way, restrict what one may eat.
Quakers are not pacifists anymore.
This, Friends, is the conclusion we must draw –
Won’t vote on this; we might just face defeat:
It is not “P. C.” to be anti-war.
Quakers are not pacifists anymore.
Protestant, Catholic, Mormon, Jew –
I understand your point of view.
If you can’t mine – well, that’s a shame.
No “holy” war is in God’s name.
Islam means “peace”. We all want that.
Meet the Quakers. Be friends and chat.
Buddhist, Hindu – we’re all the same.
No “holy” war is in God’s name.
Jehovah’s Witness to a Sikh:
Sisters and brothers, let us speak.
It’s not a case of placing blame.
No “holy” war is in God’s name.
“An ye harm none, do as ye will.”
The Wiccan Rede, we must fulfill.
Let peace on Earth become our aim.
No “holy” war is in God’s name.
Some serious religious sophomores claim Christ ('Witness' Bluff)
Almost like Columbus: to hit the Other, take their STUFF
Nothing Doing here; I am a Minister of Jesus' Gospel
For the same Reason they fled HERE to Native Indian lands
Catholics to Lord Baltimore's Maryland, Puritans to Massachusetts;
Persecuted Quakers to Penn's America - for debts Kings owed the Admiral
(Indentured white servants came in thousands, here and in the Islands
There's no shame; we are all sinners, or erstwhile peasants, made Kings)
Don't dare preach to me to abandon my dress, language, culture
While you want nothing of Jesus, and His Gospel that saves sinners like us
THE SECOND COMING WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, OR ON FACEBOOK
NOR WILL IT BE APPROVED BY THE MILITARY, UN, OR the WHITE HOUSE
This world has enough of such CHRIST claimants
Even Jehovah's Witnesses tell me to forget my ancestors
So she can rest assured, make the world safer for Imperialism
No, Sir. No Ma'am. Jesus never asked me to lose my language, wisdom ...
To become akin to POPES, priests, Luther, Calvin, Puritans of Boston
Who killed four Quakers before 1660; just 40 years post-Mayflower arrival!
THE SECOND COMING WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, OR ON FACEBOOK
NOR WILL IT BE APPROVED BY THE MILITARY, UN, OR the WHITE HOUSE
That was not all; Roger Williams fled Boston, for fear of forced deportation
Was fair to Natives, now America's first Baptist. Not so for Anne Hutchinson
She was expelled from MBC (Massachusetts) when pregnant with child #8
She never survived the flight, but did open up Portsmouth (Rhode Island)
So when we think those South Africans of Indian descent must change ...
I ask, As Columbus wanted change? As the Puritans? Those slaveowners?
Thank God the Slaves kept their African culture in America
And made Christianity BETTER than ever, gifting us such SAINTS as Dr. King!
So there!
THE SECOND COMING WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, OR ON FACEBOOK
NOR WILL IT BE APPROVED BY THE MILITARY, UN, OR the WHITE HOUSE
Chasin’ Lighting – In Honor of the CUA Crew!
Several rickety rides held together with the faith of the ages,
Sages some might say, turnin’ pages of things old and things new,
The chosen few, riding with the storm,
Lighting flashing on all sides,
Switchin’ gears from fears of repeating histories to mysteries of new days dawning,
Spawning day dreams of elastic electricity, serendipity,
As Barack ascends,
Inspiring men,
They fight the darkness of hail ridden windshields,
Toggling between the unknown and highbeams of luminescent knowledge,
Chasing a faith strong enough to free the fatherless and set the captives free,
Wrestling not against flesh and blood,
But wide turns of satanic deception,
With weapons of light like mad max before them,
They wage war on the dark roads of Memphis, searching like alley cats like Thunder Cats,
For stitches of acts like koinonia,
Chasing a faith in persistent praya’ for a different tomorrow.
Sorrows fading beneath the commitment to serve a God beyond the schizophrenic nightmare of human imagination,
Sorrows fading beneath the elation of love and mercy eternal,
On their way to Oklahoma City,
Fighting for that Jerusalem which will stand forever,
Caught in the obsession of one singular endeavor,
To redeem the minds of our time, and see a renaissance explode out of the womb of suffering,
7, several, 70 times 7 rides, held together with the faith of the ages,
Chasing the courage of Baptists,
Chasing the justice of quakers,
Chasing the wisdom of Episcopalians,
Chasing the unity of Catholics,
Chasing the power of charismatics,
Chasing the stillness of the upper room,
Chasing pentacostal fire,
Chasing a fire strong enough to speak in the language of doubting atheists,
To speak in the language of agnostic scholars,
To speak in the shalom of the Torah,
To speak in the illumination of the Bagadav Gita,
Convincing Hindus of the ultimate avatar,
The Bodhisattva the Christ,
Converting crack heads into prophets of a blessed age,
They rage against disbelief and catch hold the rhythm of heavenly praise,
That all will be saved,
Several rickety rides, like Battlestar Gallactica, a rag tag assembly of apostles,
Chasing the end of paranoid hatred and the daydream of life eternal,
Several rickety rides,
Chasin' lighting
DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while dry ving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before
slated him slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today
- - - - - - - - - -
Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha air brushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won!
- - - - - - - - - -
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives
toward lass sees – especially
Fox Television news anchorwoman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!
- - - - - - - - - -
I van a try to describe while sitting on me rump
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
From special interest bro and sis turn pump
He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump
Whose rants sans presidential outcome a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,
- - - - - - - - - -
That and another woman to bareback jump
Disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
The mass media as some foolhardy charade
And caricature of a frazzled grump
This arboreal clothed ape
Erecting Taj Mahal phallic symbol where players dump
And gamble away hard earn cash
- - - - - - - - - -
For his hello kitty, as if that cachet to grind and bump
Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair rum runs rampant with red bulls
In a China shop atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets
Dis eased cranial hologram
Of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.
----------------------------------------------------------
By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.
Called Moses by Her People
Harriet Tubman was the very one.
In the year of 1851.
Called Moses by her people
a slave to none.
Returning from freedom
Braving nineteen runs.
Three hundred people
Their chains undone.
Confidence, bravery,
And fearless of death.
Built the Under Ground Railroad.
She conducted by faith.
Abolitionists, Quakers, and Senators too.
She commanded allegiance. They all were true blue.
A soldier, spy,and Civil War nurse.
Her personal safety was never put first.
Called Moses by her people.
Their daughters and sons.
She knew God wanted Freedom
For everyone.
[ Poet' View: FEBRUARY Is National Black History Month ]
www.keltonhouse.com
Eyes glib from tree and nominous tree
Go barking with intent.
To foe itself in one-two-three
And leaphing as it went.
In black from shadow nail to nut
Bad rifle cock in hand.
Dick’s Turbin angry as a foot
Suspecting cross the land.
In ukulele’s uniform
A unicycle too.
Bi-dykles round the Matterhorn
With mouldy Irish Stu.
From vileduct out to craggy glen
Fat Andy takes his bird.
And crapping ever by hissen
A trumping sound is heard.
Gruff rozzers with their monty hunt
Watch ever closetful look.
And seeching on a Quakers front
Play handclap with a hook.
Through curlfew bends and spiteful leads
Half etched upon their heads
Mock heed within their harristweeds
Whilst plotting from a shed.
Go bootle up your bottlenose
You onion bread – you scab!
There’s nothing like a good repose
Two inches at a stab.
And if, in some unlucky pose
A match should strike its head.
We’ll light a Camel by its toes
And hump it on some bread.
'Tis said that God loves all His creatures great and small.
Here are just a few of them - I can't begin to name them all!
He loves us one and all the whole world wide from A to Z!
His steadfast love is extended to all including a sinner like me!
God loves atheists, alcoholics, bootleggers, bums and Baptists -
Bailiffs, Catholics, conservatives, coopers and capitalists -
Doctors, dentists, democrats, extortionists and Eskimos -
Farmers, fishermen, golfers, generals and hypochondros!
He loves harlots, hypocrites, infidels, judges and jackasses -
Kings, kooks, lawyers, Lutherans, liberals and lasses -
Marines, Methodists, nerds, nurses, oracles and optometrists -
Presbyterians, politicians, poets, pilots and proctologists!
God loves Quakers, quacks, riveters, radicals and ragmen -
Republicans, rednecks, ranchers, reporters and raftsmen -
Sailors, Santa, scholars, scientists, sinners and scouts -
Thieves, tithers, teachers, taxmen, tradesmen and touts!
He loves unbelievers, veterans, villains and ventriloquists -
Widows, xenophobes, Yankees, yuppies and zoologists!
With so many folks to cherish, oft I wonder how it could be,
That He takes the time to love poor insignificant me!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Brexit Is Icumenn In, May's gone cuckoo!
No shame is poverty, if the heart by gay !
As Chaucer's Wife of Bath was wont to say;
Is this the tale that's told by May?
For Theresa's plan is surely on the way
To draining much of Britain's wealth away -
And no one's supposed to show dismay.
Though it be hateful, poverty is good,
A great incentive to a livelihood,
To covet which seems to be the very thing,
That Britain's people in future yearn to cling,
As Chaucer's Wife of Bath did sing,
How the poor will cheer when the price of food
And heat goes up as fast as the £ goes down,
For he with nothing, the Wife of Bath did own,
Is rich though you may think they'd boude
The May refrain that accepting poverty unhurt,
I’d say, is rich, although he lacked a shirt.
Quakers, Methodists and the C of E
Will rejoice to hear this Christian tale,
How poverty, when the heart is lowly,
Brings one to God and teaches what is holy.
But that was before the people got the vote,
And were’nt allowed to read the great Good Book ;
They had no choice but to say by rote
The words the cleric said were words of note.…
By God, I think that Mrs May is barmy
To think that Brits will take it calmly
When they catch on that what she's at
Will mean they've not enough to feed a cat.
When that days comes, O Premiere Mrs May,
Then think of what that the Wife of Bath did say :
The truly poor are they who whine and fret
And covet what they cannot hope to get.
(The words in praise of poverty appearing in The Wife of Bath’s Tale, page 308 of Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Penguin Classics, translated by Nevill Coghill, edition 1968, are in italics).
bursting into loud and joyous laughter
gossip will go no farther
monk conures, preen, and pose
3/21/2019
Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge 4, March 2019- Kimo-
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
My brother & sister in-law own 9 green cheek conures , 2 parakeet, 2 quakers, 2 kakautas
When I come into the room, they have to let the whole house know I’ve invaded their space.
Shaking out raincoats and umbrellas,
we file into the perfumed hall.
Plush peonies are everywhere,
they strain toward us in super-sized bunches,
hang from shelves and sills,
loll over low shelves.
The Quakers sit and fall silent,
comfortable hearts bumping into the unknown,
as they meditate.
My own distracted thoughts
leave damp footprints on walls and ceiling,
as I listen to a radio blasting in my head.
Too wired, I imagine the peonies;
their spongy blooms soaking up
my leaky mind.
I fancy I hear growls of censure
as the flowers shake their chunky heads
like wet dogs.
Dribbling
If someone continually gets knocked down
Eventually they will give up the ghost
If around every corner is more negativity
Which of us has lost the most?
Started to believe
More fool me
Be another page
In my sad history
Knock me back
I’m used to it
Should I care
Should I give a
If you had me and lost me
How much did you lose?
I never dreamt this for you
But then,
I never dreamt it for me,
Too
Never got beyond the opening gambits
The if's the that's
The why's and wherefore's
The dangled conversation
The fandangled expression
The ooh's the ah's
The more's the baa's
The ponderous the wonderful
The hip the snakey
The half asleep
The wide awakey
The shakers
The quakers
The jitterers
The poem makers
The right from wrongs
The singers the songs
The left from right
The right from not-so
You never understood
None of you
Never had a clue
Poem as
Cathartic expression
Class dismissed
End of lesson
I’ve told you a thousand times
Don’t exaggerate
And if you’re not early
Don’t be late
Mind your p’s and q’s
Your x y z’s and your w’s
Let it flow
Let it grow
Mind what’s going on
Down below
Every sperm is sacred
Monty Python taught us so
How long’s a rollercoaster
Compared to a sapling
If you think about
Why is money happening
Haven’t had this much fun
In years and years
Still wondering about sweetcorn
WTF? Ears, ears?
Just letting my mind
Cleanse itself
Nothing left
On the shelf
There’s an infinite number
Of poems to be written
If I call this one,
Will it be forgiven?
I’m here and now
Ducking and fighting
A paper bag
Doesn’t come when writing
There was an old poet called Neil
Who wrote something for the thrill
Everyone groaned
Some even moaned
At poor Neil Neil orange peel
Don’t worry
I’ll get me coat
Not wanted here
I won’t get the goat
There’s barely a day goes by
Without me trying to marry
Sigh with my
I wonder why
This butterfly
The poems cry
And if I’m high
Or do or die
I’ll fly
Aye
I’ll fly
Aye
For the end is nigh…
PS
There’s a reason for this coda
Nothing to do with odour
But I’m not going to tell you
Or give you a clue
The best poems are written
To make you think,
I think.
28.4.2022 9:06am