Best Redirection Poems
When ceilings were cast on dreams
air thickened, swelling lungs
with unbreathable mediocrity
pen is clutched
in reluctance of dim witted judgement,
small minded skewed views,
all pushing towards
Oprah Book Club fame
under a midwestern bubble.
That trophy would shine
like the second hand cars surrounding
When ceilings were cast on dreams
a terrified scream evaded me
as lips were bit in the traditional
small town offend-me-not fashion,
my pen faultered and died...
Fear is passion disapating into lonely corners
accepting it's quiet demise
Never realizing sea breeze or sunrise
alive and never living
while calendar pages fly by abandoning
Regret is for mourning souls
past possibilities of redirection
and compromise
I break westward stepping over spilled milk
toward angular man made mountains
Now the pond fish evolution begins
as I swim in bigger waters
insignificant and loving it
feeling anonymity breed inhibition
and onward to infamy
toward my name etched in spines
and altitudes I make my own
**inspired by John Heck's "Edge" contest
5 BILLION POOR
5 BILLION POOR FORSOOTH DEMAND,
EQUALITY THROUGHOUT THE LAND,
MORE THAN A MILLION DOLLARS IN THE BANK IS GREED,
MORALITY GETS EVERYONE A FEED,
LETS VOTE ON THIS REFERENDUM,
MORAL QUESTION OF THE DEED,
LETS SHARE ALL OF PIGGIES GREED,
LEAVE IT A MILLION, ONE,
ALL EQUAL UNDER THE SOD,
GREEDY ONES ARE SELFISH CLODS,
LETS FIX THE PLANET, GIVE A NOD,
NO POINT ACCEPTING GREED,
5 BILLION WANT THIS, GOD....
YES INDEED. Don
Minority groups control the world?
Why should we the multi-dudes, of multitudes,
of more than 5 billion VOTERS put up with the greedy rich,
we don't have to, we have Facebook :}
to vote Nasty, rob your neighbour GREED out.
Are we mentally, morally, strong enough?
We must Do it, but Keep the old system running everywhere !
But, no one individual, to earn more than a million dollars US!
Moral redirection of the wealth of greed to worthy beneficiaries ,
eg: FAIR paid for work in the 3rd world no longer 3rd world nations! Every family to eventually have voter access to Facebook to vote on every important outcome on the planet...
Great living conditions for every person on the planet!
All great causes to be voted for on Facebook, majority rules!
Without Opression no need for people to leave their Homeland.
Except when on visiting during holidays:}
When the opressed Minorities have equality, and are treated fairly,
when all are content, Utopia is here...
We are such weak brained wonders,
that we allow psychologists to alter the world?
why would you go away from a brutal system that works?
to a pathetic system that doesn't work,
humans are sometimes like ANIMALS who need discipline,
without discipline there is no control,
where there is no respect there is anarchy,
YES morality is long dead,
We need to go back to a system that worked.
Either struggle at talking now,
Or struggle in armament later,
Deal with the battle inside yourselves,
Or get others to face your fiery hater.
Talking and discussion are always best,
Considering and exchanging views,
Concerning yourself with the other way,
Appreciating what they've already given you.
Opposing sides mean two different opinions,
Two points of view to be explored;
The conception of war is not something alien,
’Cos redirection only means a discoursed poured.
Peace does not mean dissolution,
It vestiges an agreement between two sides,
That one has superseded and attained power,
With grit, determination and more besides.
War injures so many people,
That a dialogue should exist strong and giving,
And before hostility and struggle become national,
Diplomacy should be the politician’s living.
Was the murderers jacket bloodstained ?
Was he caught at the scene and detained ?
There’s a story here to be told
The truth and evidence retained.
The Police are on the threshold
Interrogate him with his Legal
The evidence is quiet dismal
He’s talking but its redirection
His motive appears to be fiscal
But he’s claiming its one of affection
It’s all sounding really quiet frivolous
For the detective it’s all very piteous
Failing is not the planned conception
The case is slipping, it’s against us
What we need now is confession
The potato plant's roots keep yielding her precious fruits,
As the youth of the Spring's breeze blows through the trees,
To provide the shadows of life on its green leaves,
A bastard child is born without the presence of a father,
Drugs and prostitution have destroyed her young mother,
There are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
Generations full of lust, lost in shame,
Silly ladies shake their pretty round hips in mischief,
The Summer's heat has came,
There are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
The great struggle of the poor man is a steady fight with all his might,
While the rich man gets richer off those huge city centers,
That help light up the night,
As the leaves from all the trees have fallen to the ground,
Diseases, poverty and sickness is all around,
There are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
The chill of the Winters's frost freezes the Earth's vegetation bear,
So, the people look to their governments for shelter and security,
But, it is so dam freezing cold,
And nobody knows if anyone even cares,
There are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
Centuries pass and life spans flows and goes,
Where the wind comes and goes nobody knows,
The Son provides the world with power and illumination,
Until the day of judgement,
Only the "Blood of the Lamb" will provide true salvation,
There are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
The Earth will exist until the end of times,
When God has defeated all the evildoers,
As it is spoken by his voice of thunder,
With the Saints of mankind,
For, there are dreams being shattered and nothing really matters,
When the lights grow dim...
Behold!
If life's motions and actions would pause for an instant.
To realize it is never too late for change and redirection,
Until, those great old trees crumble and fall,
As its trunk gives way to decay,
And the axe as the Lumberjack calls,
Or, when all men's souls leaves their bodies,
To be judged by the "Almightly",
When the lights grow dim...
A linguistic symphony composed of superior vocabulary intricately braided into a formidable fabric of such dimensions as to consume the accessible volume approaching a coherent and comprehensive declaration without convergence and with sufficient obfuscation, redirection and commentary to frustrate attempts to ascertain the essential conceptual content, the oration masquerading as a professional discourse, existing as virtual fluctuations of an internal vacuum that are appreciated only when recognized as improvisational performance art of which it is a unique expression of the intrinsic beauty of nothing.
A skewed view renewed:
I didn’t get what I thought I wanted, maybe that’s the lesson I needed to learn.
Failure isn’t a destination, it’s a realization that wisdom lets you earn.
Things are not always as clear cut as they sometimes appear,
Sometimes the greatest victory comes with the greatest fear.
If the point is a lesson of growth, I’ve had the lion’s share.
Or maybe the opportunity of broken fences to repair.
What seemed to matter most, really doesn’t matter all that much in the larger view.
Introspection, redirection, views askew.
Shattered, tattered hearts can be rebuilt somehow, this I did learn.
Failure isn’t a destination, it’s a realization that Wisdom lets you earn.
Our Revolution sought limitations
On imposition of regulations,
But supplications met deprecation
And castigations not reformation.
Such condescension sparked protestation
And contemplation of separation;
This supposition stirred apprehension -
A premonition of confrontation.
But, declamations and remonstrations
Spurred agitation toward Declaration,
While provocations and deprivations
Steeled resolution for liberation.
War's prosecution, through execution,
Forged dedication for recognition;
Its culmination brought dissolution
And vindication for aspirations.
While extrication brought satisfaction
States' acclamations lacked definition.
This Federation showed imperfections;
Low validation forced redirection.
Deft composition penned Constitution;
Strong propositions scored affirmation.
Hence, generations find inspiration
And preservation their obligation.
-------------------------
Tell all the people yet to come
Democracy is what we chose;
Their mission's goal: protect it from
All foreign and domestic foes.
Reflections on a Mirror
I see that you can only emulate, and imitate,
a slave to everything that passes bye.
With a closer inspection of your redirection,
I’m asking the mimic that stands before me,
is there an artist, somewhere, buried in all that sand,
waiting to come out?
Look to the ground, look to the sky
Ask why the devil seems so much closer
And I try to bring the clouds lower
Make time go slower
Because I'm more than just a rapper; an air-blower
Though these words do blow air
They cool this heat from hell
I want the stories I tell to ring like church bells
To stupefy; A spell of positivity
A new creativity
That goes deeper than personality
One that shows the battle between
My past and present
I'd rather be a peasant with thoughts
Than a king who has been lost
In all he once held close
Realizing those same things were his foes
That rose up and conquered his head
Knowing this mistake is what lead to
His spiritual suicide
And though the mind doesn't bleed
He still felt all hope drain out with sudden speed
Instead of paying heed to the hazards
He felt the greed overtake
Now he attends his own wake
Realizing that those who followed were also fake
For God's sake, why did I not see the signs?
Now everywhere I go there are landmines
Ready to undermine what combines to define me
Can't you see?
I try to scribe between the lines
Let you see only what you want to find
Because the meaning and the outcome
Are only what you realize!
See? More self-understanding buys back the lies
That you told your reflection
You made so many selections for your own protection
But you lost the connection within
Self-dissection leads to self-resurrection
And redirection within
(A semi-poem, semi-rap verse that I wrote/recorded over an acoustic guitar)
Unsteadiness is brief? Fading in the interim. People represent
Society, humankind, and mankind oftentimes change like the
weather, unpredictable and forms sporadic decisions that
fluctuate from time to time. Unsteadiness
Failures we all face, familiar and unfamiliar faces, things to cast
out uneasinesses, fears, and stress and embrace redirection, adjustments, and shifts. Unsteadiness
Human beings are somewhat superficial, some are good, bad, and neutral
often contemplate over usage of how come"
Unsteadiness
What is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is infinite, Life isn't about
abundance of possessions, Happiness is to be found within
My heart is all there is inside
The man who gives his all to you
And still I feel there’s more to do
Emotions lost, my thoughts denied
A silent soul in sacrifice
To reach the skies beyond his dreams
Within moonlight to calm his screams
For love demands the higher price
His heart has cast the plans he made
Into distant memories of
It used to be before sweet love
The path of loneliness must fade
© JG Farmer 2017
As death draws near, we'll have reason to reflect.
At God's judgment, will we stand tall, free of defect?
If we could, would it be just the aftereffect
of a life lived for self, with pride’s introspect?
What did God ordain with the word, resurrect?
change, redirection from the dead, in effect.
There comes to the soul, a day when we're subject -
to guilt as a sinner, immoral, suspect.
We can put the blame on evil’s misdirect
but our faults we must own in circumspect
bond with the God-head, we no longer reject.
We rise to glorious grace as God’s chosen elect.
No scene as sacred as history’s rugged Calvary.
As majestic as falling rain on a desert soul’s revelry.
Christianity begins where religion ends…with resurrection.
Resurrection gives life a makeover stance for redirection.
History’s pivotal theme is central for the transforming cross.
On Easter you’ll find life from His grave, empty without loss.
That Calvary’s stone-door is to enable disciples to enter in.
Christ took my place, there, to give me a place without sin.
No pain, no palm; no thorns, nor throne; no cross, no crown.
Grateful for life's theme, He makes me triumph over death unsound.
All Heaven’s awed by such a cross; Hell is terrified for Victory’s raid.
Let Heaven rejoice, humanity sing, for power over Death has been paid.
I belong to that tribe of people
Who walk on ocean and sink not.
Those who see things the way they are
Without trying to say A is B and B is C.
I belong to that tribe where men are men.
We are poets among poets and aren't ashamed
To be called one among thousand Doctors.
We are not ashamed to be called a poet among
Thousand lawyers, teachers, actors, dancers.
We stand to defend what we believe in and called to be, I am a poet, I don't know who you are!
This is my domain where I was bred to be great!
Here in our tribe,
We eat words and drink imagery as water,
None of us are lacking like the street boys.
Our metaphor seek no restoration and our similes
Are the butter to our sense of discipline.
Our land is not for the lazy mind in the street,
We are respected and organised in attitude and characters; you can trust all and all in all.
We are the first class citizens birth with wisdom,
Our planet lack not righteousness nor perfection.
We never brain wash those we call our brothers,
I belong to those that are honest even when asleep.
I belong to those who aren't afraid to face their
Fear and deal with situations that seems hard,
We are not planet of politicians that lie through their
Honest mouth which seek redirection.
We write, rewrite and write history on pages,
We are not corrupt like the Poli-THIEVES here.
Our land is secured and guided by knowledge.
We are here for each other and beat drums for all,
We deals with pens that foretell tomorrow and
Fear not what those with dark faces shall do to us.
We are the Tribe of Poets birth perfectly in understanding of the world in our hand,
We are not envious about the success of others,
We are not competitors like the other tribes.
Show me a thousand doctors who are successful
And I will point out millions of poets who have been to the heavens and came back successfully accepted.
Poets are the bed rock of every society in the world, come visit our tribe and be glad you did in your life time.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016