Best Reportedly Poems
Two Presidents convened on this date,
reportedly to negotiate, the end of the
war and Ukraine's fate..
Instead the President of the United States,
and his very arrogant running mate,
chose to publicly bully and intimidate,
cause that's how we "make America great."
President Zelensky didn't take their bait.
He's a man of character, a Presidential trait,
and Ukraine's still a democracy. It's not
the "deep state".
There is a disturbing discrepancy
Between mortals and the spirit world,
Such as the eternal salvation of man
From the curse of sin and its hold.
The paradox of a meek virgin conceiving
After being by the Spirit overshadowed,
And then a perfect chap is born in a manger
Is a narrative of its own peculiar mode.
That in death life was made everlasting
And in suffering relief was won,
Is a creed that requires bravery to embrace,
And great conviction to believe in such a One.
Perhaps the reason why I believe in Him
Is because he only asks that I believe,
Perchance I would abandon my little faith
If was not a mortal so powerless and naïve.
And perhaps the reason why you believe in Him
Is because you only want to look fashionable enough,
Or are simply totally unsure of your afterlife
And fear finding the Judgment Panel so solemn tough.
And maybe your preacher finds it even harder to believe
The tall story he has been telling strangers day by day,
And he maybe he would quit being a peddler of funny tales
Had he another way to earn his keep and his expenses pay.
Perhaps the reason why pagans and agnostics refuse to accept
The story of this Immortal Chap who is reportedly the way and truth,
Is because they find it a bit safer to believe in nothing at all
Than to place such great stakes on the escapades of a Jewish Youth.
Now there’s the little matter of the Helper,
The benign Spirit who descended on the Pentecost
To prove without doubt that the Chap indeed was God,
But then He’s still unseen, and any may claim his presence.
I do not write to spurn the endless graces of the sky
Nor to quash my eligibility to eternal breath,
I without blasphemy observe the uncertainties facing man
And his innocent inquiry into life after death.
To believe in this Jewish Chap who forgave also the unborn
Is a risky business, and one of the greatest tragedies by the way;
The only bigger tragedy being your refusal to believe in Him
And yet find Him at the gates of Paradise on the Judgment Day.
Pedro, the traitor of Jesus Christ
This man, if he could be called a man
Killed 12 followers of Christ
Like a crazed Wolfman
Pedro firstly meet with Christ in a forest
Christ asked him if he had mercy of other people
Pedro answered: Yes.
Christ presented him 12 followers of him
Pedro was excited. He never had any followers
Jesus said: they were my followers, now they will be yours
Apollos, Evodius, Archippus, Sosthenes, Barnabas, Onesiphorus, Andrew, Moses, Judas, Philip, Simon and Nathanael.
Began to follow Pedro
Pedro reportedly yelled to Christ "Oh father, thanks"
Jesus then seen Pedro as a reliable friend
He would everyday visit him at bars
And once helped Jesus to transform water into wine
But one day
Thing slipped
On March 30 Pedro called Jesus, to talk with him
After a little conversation, Jesus began to suspect of Pedro
And terminated the conversation with "You aren't the prophet; i want my sons back"
Pedro got infuriated.
On April 3, Pedro called his followers to a forest
Having called the followers, Pedro said that a miracle would happen
He said to them to look at the sky, because the sun would do a such thing
But while they were looking at the sky, he got a dagger
And fastly stabbed 12 of his followers, all of whom died.
He then called Jesus, yelling "Now came here father to see the disaster i made"
Jesus was terrified by the murders: "How could you?"
But he did not panicked; he put his hands into Pedro's head
Saying "Father forgive them, for they do not know what they do"
After saying the phrase seven times, he said Pedro "Go ahead."
Pedro did go out and was not heard anymore.
Jesus said to his followers that he had an follower named Pedro,
Who was a traitor to him
His followers were shocked to hear the story.
Pedro is still remembered, to this day, as a mass murderer, and traitor
His whereabouts are unknown.
Written by Brazilian bishop Robinson Cavalcanti in 1996 to American bishop Douglas Cameron.
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!"
***
What e'er became o' Angus McKess
Is a dark and troublin' mystery, no less.
But the cruel gossip bein'
He was reportedly seen
Skinny dippin', one night, in Loch Ness.
Heart Attack Self Help
A viral message of self help is making its round through whatsapp..
Reportedly written by a cardiologist Dr Siva, a senior doctor of the heart…
It implores each reader to spare a mere 2 minutes, to please read his message…
Doing so, you will be ready when heart attack strikes and you are alone, needing aid..
It is a fact we must all be fully aware, heart attacks do give an early warning…
If you feel nauseous and you feel faint, your internal alarm bells should start ringing…
When next strikes a severe pain at the heart, make no mistake , this is it…
The pain, it spreads up to your arm and onto your jaw, you are in dire straits..
Urgent is the need for more oxygen for your agonised heart, CPR quick, please....
Some of us may have knowledge how to apply aid and CPR to a heart attack victim…
What if, now you are the suffering victim, and the pain strikes, you can’t even scream..
Doctors say, time is of essence, delay is the greatest enemy for any heart attack victim..
Even if the hospital is mere minutes away, you desperately need immediate help right away..
Do as Dr Siva says, draw deep breaths and cough deeply, do them repeatedly and very vigorously…
Each breath be deep, each cough deep and prolonged, as if to expel sputum deep inside the chest..
Doing so, more oxygen is drawn into the lungs, the coughing squeezes the heart, blood circulates..
This simple self help, of deep and vigorously coughing when in the throes of a heart attack…
All these, they help squeeze your suffering heart into regaining its normal rhythm ….
In any heart attack situation, every millisecond counts, and until you get professional help..
If you are alone, then it is all down to you to stay alive a few seconds longer till expert help..
This simple self aid may yet save your life, and to many others who read this message…
So do spread and share this knowledge, for as one ages, it’s our lives at stake….
And here is the frightening fact, when heart attack happens, you're helpless...
You will, on the average, a mere 11 seconds before succumbing to unconsciousness..
So this little self help is not in jest, neither is it a fictional nor creative token...
Let's pray it will not happen to you or I, but by being thus informed, your 1st survival step is taken..
George Washington chopped down a tree as a lad
Then told his dad that he'd been bad
With the stroke of a pen, Thomas Jefferson kick-started a nation
Touting revolution every so often with his Declaration
Andrew Jackson had a penchant for whiskey
Native Americans found him way too frisky
Abraham Lincoln was thin but brave
Reunited the nation and freed the slaves
As a child Teddy Roosevelt was always ill
But as President he led the charge up San Juan Hill
His cousin Franklin took over in the Great Depression
And then three times won reelection.
JFK and Jackie ushered in 'Camelot'
'Til in a Dallas motorcade he was shot
Ronald Reagan demanded the Soviets end their stall,
"Mr. Gorbachev, please, tear down that wall!"
Bill Clinton said, "It's the economy, Stupid!"
Before he was cut down by Monica and Cupid
And now Mr. Trump draw lines in the sand
Saying, "Let's make America great again!"
And did you know that Yankee Doodle preferred apple strudel
To a leftover dish of cold, wet noodles?
Hope you've enjoyed this reprise of Presidential history
Which to the majority of Americans is an absolute mystery
P.S. Rumors have it that Yankee Doodle is considering a
comeback run for POTUS in the 2020 election.
His slogan reportedly will be, "Make America
handy with Yankee Doodle Dandy."
The "Me-too" movement has already
dialed in death threats ...
A Change Is A Com'n
Though this baby boomer,
(who didst roam man
upon this Earth
since the year
mcmLix) does not
coon sitter himself
a political activist his wear
re: some ness, particularly
with chronic setbacks
inaugurated by President
Donald Trump, an in volunteer
re: response, (asper just
the faintest hint
of a smile) veer
really played itself across
my countenance un bear
ably impossible to depress, repress,
and/or suppress, upon
gleaning America Online
cover headline indicating
Representative Beto O’Rourke,
a (Texas Democrat) care
fully, sir up tush hiss lee,
reportedly, and quietly
considering a 2020 grab
for White House
commander in Chief chair
met with Barack Obama dare
ring political polls
to hedge intimation,
though true motives unclear
that said progressive
former named person
(from Lone Star State)
might be seriously sincere
conjoining what promises
to be a dynamically
hearty, lucky, and plucky
solution to uptear,
the present woebegone crisis
of dreadlock, gridlock, and
padlock stasis, the political
ship of state (Leviathan
countenanced by Thomas Hobbes
circa 1651) pitching
United States government
upon reprehensible threshold
inching the Doomsday Clock
closer than ever to thermonuclear
global mortal kombat triggering
unset of unstoppable subnuclear
barrage in record time (mere
minutes transforming the
world wide web into
many a schmear
compromising most all life
into a bajillion bits
of pulverized powder,
guaranteeing the demise,
sans *****sapiens,
and thus no
Santa Claus to steer
the motley crue
of feisty reindeer,
this above mentioned dissolution,
would sadly, unfortunately,
wretchedly remove *****
as well the straight
sexually oriented persons matter,
would become reconstituted
into surprise show stopping premiere
of some alternate lifeform,
no doubt signalled
with at least one outlier
or maybe even a noncareer mutineer!
Super rodeo star, Buster Tyding,
Has, reportedly, gone into hiding.
Seems he fractured his pride,
Landing on his backside,
When thrown by the goat he was riding.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: I'm Sorry, I've Got To Go
Edited By: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2014
Jazz
aficionado's,
remembers
Chick Webb -
Two sticks
in hand,
tap'n
on the rim
of a
snare;
keep'n time
on the
drums....
like
a clock,
And
tap'n
those cymbals
Bock-a-da-bock -
Go
Chick,
go!
He
was
flawless!
Hit'n licks
like
lightening,
and
didn't miss
a
note -
When
you hear
him play
on
"Liza,"
then you
know
that
Chick,
was
jazz royalty,
worthy
of
the throne -
He gave
jazz,
a whole
new
meaning -
"It don't mean a thing,
if it ain't got that swing."
And
when
Chick Webb,
was
on the
Savoy
Ballroom's
marque -
folks packed
the
show,
to
hear him
jam
his
signature
song....
Harlem Congo.
He
would hit
them
licks,
like
no drummer
did
before.
Chick Webb,
will
always
reign
supreme,
In
New York
and
Baltimore.
The
"Little Giant,"
as he
was
known -
will
always
be,
The King
Of
Swing -
copyright (c) 2014.
"I'm sorry, I've got to go,"
Is reportedly the last words
spoken by Chick Webb.
THE DIE IS CAST
“I See,” said a blind man to his deaf Spouse, emphatically
I hear the S-rhetoric She replied Sarcastically
The symptoms and signs of Stagnation
The Syndrome of intermittent Systems and Structures
Signing and later whining or wining
Structural adjustment and subsidies
The insatiable appetite for Sausages and Swine
Speculation and Smart Partnerships Scenarios
Synergies, Song of Science, Strategies, Solutions all Send Shivers down my Spine
Stock exchange and Streamlining just Sentimental
What with Solo driving, Sole proprietorship of Strings of businesses
As the faith of the Servicemen wavers, the Sales are reportedly Staggering
A Slump they call it but there’s Something Sinister
Swing into action to Subjugate these Saboteurs?
My Spirit faints But rejoice oh my Soul
Share the Spoil of the Wicked, Shillings and Swiss Francs or $ollars
If they call this Scathing, what is Stealing?
Smelling, a Stench!
Servant leaders, Surge forward to foil this Sunlight melancholy
For a calm Sea never made a good Swimmer
Study the Science of the Soil and the oil
When funds are Squandered
Guillotine the Small witty cashiers, the sardines
A Sacrifice of sorts, Scape goating and Summary Sentencing
“Where are the big bully Signatories, the Sharks”, a Senior Citizen asks?
Scot free, in Singapore in another Symposium
And who will Sub-due the enemy? Where are the species of valour, women of virtue?
Behold the Son of David, Save us!
Saviour, open your eyes and See, take our Prayer Seriously
With You on our Side we can Salvage the Situation and Scale walls
It is the third of June at San Quentin in 1955.
A death row inmate will soon no longer be alive.
She has been dubbed “Bloody Babs” by the local press.
Barbara Graham is a convicted murderess.
For killing widow Mabel Monohan, she will pay.
Barbara is sentenced to die in the gas chamber today.
Barbara’s young life experienced many a convolution.
She had been in and out of jails for petty crimes and prostitution.
Never experiencing a proper upbringing in a peaceable home;
between California and Nevada, Barbara would aimlessly roam.
With two other men, into Mrs. Monohan’s house she would go.
Reportedly, the victim’s skull was cracked as she was smothered with a pillow.
Graham was executed after a second stay.
“Good people are always so sure they’re right” was the last thing she would say.
Inspired by the 1958 film “I Want to Live”
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Father, I know the airs are not always safe or fine
For Queenies as gorgeous as that treasured mine,
Behold now she departs to Dallas in the expansive Texas,
And I pray that you calm her reportedly nervous plexus.
From Dallas she’ll like a hawk pierce the crisp jealous air
To London, and perhaps enjoy some cold Coke there;
Please throughout her cruise guard her from the danger
Of troubled clouds and the ogling of some lustful stranger.
Fit to depart for the homely Nairobi keep her.
And seeing how you’ve brought her from far,
I’ll before you bow on a trembling bended knee
And thank you for bringing her safe to me…
I beg please rebuke her ever changing doubting mind
And remember to remind her that indeed love is blind;
Let her sweetened honey-pot and all ever be mine -
To savor and to kiss, and to tingle her delicate spine.
Amen!
“It's not that we cant see the solution; it's that we cant see the problem” - G.K. Chesterton
It's all so crazy
The perception of our society
Are we blind; are we ignorant?
Perhaps what will be, will be
It's not that we can’t see the solution
It seems so obvious - so clear
But when you look beneath the surface
The reality - I think that's what we really fear
We think that food is a problem
With obesity at an all time high
The truth - obesity Is a symptom
Yet, we continually close our eyes
Over half of America
Is over weight or obese
It's the leading cause of preventable deaths
However; it's not what we eat
It's what's eating us
During our days and our nights
Its the voice in our head
That tells us things aren't quite right
Food doesn't kill people
It's similar to gun control
30,000 violent deaths per year
I bet here's a fact you don't know
Of the 30,000 violent deaths
18,000 are suicides
You're right - guns do kill people
But we never ask people why they want to die
The solutions may seem clear
But stress, anxiety, and fear still remains
It's not food or the guns
That elicit the majority of life's pain
So let's have a drink
That will help us to relax and unwind
Here, have another
It's a sophisticated red wine
According to a National Survey
86 percent reportedly drink
26 percent binge
That's a lot don't you think?
An estimated 88,000 people
Die from alcohol-related causes per year
It's the third leading preventable cause of death in the United States
The solution? - address, don't try to drink away what you fear
So what's the real problem?
Here, I'll take the sacrificial dive
I'll use logic and reason
A method we use in other areas of our lives
It's not eating or drinking
That’s causing our pain
In modernity
It's the mental health of our brain
It's what we value
It's who we choose to idolize
It's the trivially matters
The distorted sense of self we despise
When we learn to face facts
Prioritize what we do
When we value virtue
Compassion manifest - love will carry us through
We’ll choose take smaller bites
Have one drink to unwind
We’ll have a gun for protection
Moderation - the Golden rule still applies
It's not that we can’t see the problem
It’s that we won't look at the disease
The solution?
Address mental health - please
reportedly
the wind hitting the forehead it was in fact too hard
but it is only the wind
reportedly again
a wind crashing, it's hard
will soon pass