Best Researches Poems
I remember when
Q was part of a Tip
now Q is a one way trip
to crazy town
It’s a place where thoughts flip
and up is down
Where every imaginable
conspiracy is found
Listen to that mind cracking sound
in a basement of a pizza shop
they think that trafficked
children are bound
Democrats demonized
Satan worshipers
Drinking babies blood
Some welcome the insanity
in like a flood
Internet researches
named Beth, Karen,
Mike, Bubba, Bob and Bud
all of them happily
wallowing in the mud
So wether they believe
in the Deep State
or PizzaGate
QAnon somehow thinks
an Old World Order
controls our fate
Slick videos crash minds
as feeble sheeple
bite into the bait
January 6th
becomes their new favourite date
Somehow
they feel truly Patriotic
instead of Psychotic
Crazy takes off like gangbusters
a fuse attached to a rocket
It seems a certain President
had them in his pocket
A gun aimed at the Capitol
and Donny cocked it
They were all dim lightbulbs
and he electrified the socket
So the Q tipped
as we watched on TV
what a crazy trip
“Hang Mike Pence”
dripped from their lips
Through broken windows
the mob slipped
as the fabric of Democracy
was stained and ripped
Still with that darkness over the Country
freedom was only temporarily eclipsed
So while the world watched
and ridiculed
“We The people” found a way
Thankfully the majority had the final say
Yes America witnessed a new day
QAnon, White Power, Proud Boys
and Anti Semites were kept at bay.
Should that not in the end
be “The American Way”?
And yet we are one inside/outside communion,
one ego/eco-integrity potential sanctuary
Polypathically capable of nesting
eager for re-creating
healthy commitments with family
and toward more extended communal memberships
beyond our egocentric self-limitations.
Love
experienced,
our necessary shared foundation
for co-passion growing outward,
optimistically upward,
fundamentally downward,
seminally inward,
across Earth's reveling space
and across all time past
and imagined healthy futures
for co-investing eco-souls.
Communion is who we become,
community is where I live,
while cooperatively designing
future GreenSanctuary searches
researches for all local Souls of this Judea
Zero JudeaZone
with holy/unholy River running through
Historic English
and Native American,
and multiculturally privileged/unprivileged daughters and sons
of African and Caribbean slaves
and their owners
and their past owners' allies,
economically and politically and personally experienced
with creolizing space for nutritional ego-freedom
wherever
and whenever
and however we could cooperatively
internally plant
and hope to harvest
and digest
and share living river water
and then re-digest that happily extended WinWin sharing,
caring for cooperative GreenSanctuary future investments,
investors
While reflecting
and story-telling
in more LeftBrain academic graduate communions
what we are deep learning together
about pan-sectarian sanctuary development
of good faith communions
GreenSanctuary communions
with democratically cooperative government networks
working and playing WinWin
within Mother Earth's great WinLose risky ZeroSum history
still with Win-ego/theo-nomial and Win-ecological opportunities
within each healthy moment's positive integrity potential
for GreenSanctuary positive-deviant revolutions
restoring Left with Right peace
among all nature/spirit soulful inter-relationships
Revolutions in Left-secular with Right-sacred peace
restoring all North/South interdependencies
reweaving all West/East historic ElitePatriarchal/NonEliteMatriarchal
creolizing power centers,
Yang/Yin timeless nutritional communions
Witnessed by outside ultra-nonviolet voices
still celebrating this trans-cultural healthing Sanctuary.
VIEW VIDEO SLIDE SHOW HERE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxY3G1zEkVk
"The Truth About Religion"
© 2012 Michelle Lynn LeBlanc
Religion gives meaning and purpose in this life
Without it, most people don't know what to do
For they simply need something to believe in
So they will have the strength to get them through
But the truth is, religions are man-made
And most followers don't see its pagan origins
Its really hard to present this truth to them
When their identity is so caught up in their charism
So what do followers generally do
When they are confronted with this harsh truth?
Often many will blindly ignore the facts
Or simply refuse to look at the proof
Sadly, most religious people simply follow
They don’t see the holes in what they believe
And if they do, they often ignore it
Because 'questioning' mean they are being deceived
So why is 'questioning' shunned by the church?
For if 'truth' is truth, then what is there to hide?
For the more one researches and studies
The harder it would be for the truth to be denied
So if you are one who desires truth in this life
Please don't be afraid to go deeper in your search
For studying ancient history and pagan mythology
Will set you free from 'fear-based' beliefs of the church!
© 2012 Michelle Lynn LeBlanc
http://fromchristianitytofreethought.webs.com/why-i-left-my-faith
Understand Black Man
Do you have a strategy?
Do you have a plan?
To move forward
And be the best you can
From creation he plant us
Freedom and liberty he grant us
So why failure to succeed?
Confusion became the creed
Life's not a wishing well
When you start to read
When you learn to spell
Because instructions are given
You must comprehend
To function well
So play your part
Education a start
And the glory will follow
Do your researches
And don't believe the lies
You swallow, in churches
How we deal with it
Is try a new start
Casting out negatives
From a poisoned heart
Engage again
Feel your brothers pain
Learn to unite
Cut out the cuss cuss
Cut out the fight
Its not glorious , its not pleasing
In the fathers sight
Now get on your journey
Build your master plan
Make an effort
Give a helping hand
Life becomes a mystery
But if you write your own history
The past will be recorded
But let the children listen
Because as we plant the seed
Humanity at war yet still in need
And if you want a good harvest
Focus on a the plan
And do a good deed
Nile spreads through the valley like a snake
Pyramids look awesome in rays of sun about to wake
Pyramids are strong constructions can even take small earthquake
They are made of limestone granite or bricks that in sun would bake
It is a grand ancient tomb
But for pharaohs’ soul it is a womb
The place where spirit will bloom
So gate to heaven is the tomb
There are pyramids in many places
But England is more famous for stone filling round spaces
Main stone sun at time of equinox and solstice faces
Is there a distant correlation between those two add places
If one researches them it will be found
They were both used as burial ground
One being a great mound
The other circle with stones when hit emitting clear sound
But perhaps there is something that left no physical clue
But that predates the two
And I believe it to be true
That black shuck to its existence last remaining clue
I don’t know wheatear it was actually build cubit by cubit
Or does it exist only in spirit
But if it would be build it would be round pyramid with a summit
Cone, round like Stonehenge lines meeting in pyramid like summit
The lines depict all the dimensions of vortex that mixes time
And the summit is place most prime
Most sublime
This is where lines of destiny growth intersect growth of divine at top of the climb
And black shuck with its Cyclops like eye
Looking at the midnight sky
It is a guardian of that structure that reaches the sky
Where some people go after they die
Like a pyramid it is a tomb
But like it is also a womb
Where greatest of spirits bloom
And the fearsome black dog is guardian of that sacred room
The teachers and staff at the special school, Graysmill,
Did what they could to give the severes a life afterwards,
And they presumed I would be accepted to work,
At the CALL Centre of Edinburgh University, for a long time to lurk.
It’s now CALL Scotland, and researches special tech,
Develops assistive software, devices, and communication aids;
It digitalise written exams energetically and with voice,
For disabled kids who need to have their own writing choice.
But I went to Daniel Stewarts nursery, was well accepted, superior,
As I came top of the class for both words and numbers,
And as it is a top private school near Edinburgh’s city centre,
I found the sympathy hard at Graysmill ‘cos I was not inferior.
In the 70s and 80s they thought the special pupils couldn’t interact,
In mainstream schools where the able-bodied were understood;
Most of my friends had a dislike of normal, ordinary kids,
And didn’t understand my perceptions of relationality and brotherhood.
So as it was sometimes an effort for me to be part of the school,
And I just wanted to walk away from all things disabled or impaired,
The moment I started university where opportunity beckoned,
Where my intentions and abilities could be so aired.
I wanted to maybe be a software engineer for organisations,
But knew I couldn’t type all day every day with my foot,
So after uni got a part-time job at the CALL Centre, but felt self-defeated,
‘Cos I'd had blows with my parents about my own mechanism of input.
I did home computing growing up using my hands on the keyboard,
But did my school and homework with my foot, not good,
And since they wanted me to go to university, no big deal,
They forced me to keep using the faster mechanism, the switch for my foot.
So I resented the CALL Centre right throughout my young years,
For not believing or ingratiating me when I told them of my hand dexterity,
And as a graduate able to deliberate upon my case of disrespect,
I can say that my parents should have certainly been certified for neglect.
I did not renew my contract with the Call, was only for four months,
As I didn’t want to put myself through that close contact and innocence assumption,
But think that they do an note-worthy job for severely disabled kids,
And that my case was an exception to their loving, kind gumption.
Perhaps being something of a contrarian and historian
I like to spend Sunday mornings playing American Top Forty reruns on the oldies station
because I enjoy the songs and stories related to me by Kemal Amin Kasem
Also known as Casey Kasem in his weekly broadcasts
He researches and answers questions I suspect nobody really asked.
Why in the biblical land down under
would anyone on this earth even wonder,
then spend so much as a minute to write a letter, and then spend a stamp to ask so they know,
“Which sibling Dutch trio has been on the Top Forty for the most weeks in a row?”
Who cares?
According to Casey, Brenda in Oregon cares.
I’m completely certain he’s lying, and I dare call shenanigans on that. Everyone knows she never cared; I declare it a fact that she’s not even a real person except on the air.
But I do enjoy the stories, and I don’t fault him for making up reasons to tell them to everyone,
such as an imaginary prompt from Brenda in Oregon
It is, after all, far less awkward that way,
And I can certainly relate,
For I, too, have a lot to say, and sadly nobody pauses to ask me about what I think or know
But that doesn’t stop me from contemplating responses to give if anyone ever asks, even if they probably won’t.
He is proof that I, too, may get someone to listen to me
Even if the audience is sometimes simply imaginary.
If I believe in the oddly curious, albeit made-up Brenda in Oregon as a beleaguered velveteen rabbit,
A reason to keep telling stories churned up from my weird inquiring habits
Maybe, like his, my mind’s audience will make itself real
maybe one day someone will care what I think and feel.
Even if he’s not here anymore I strive, as reminded in reruns each week, that no matter where we are from and who we are,
We must keep our feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars, and hope nobody cares we’re all a little bit of a liar.
Everyday deep researches of mankind
From rockets to satellites all sublime
Started a journey towards Mars to find
Another place for existence of air, water….life
Never speculated but captured a shot
Creatures like Sphinx was later thought
Eureka! For a new abode and neighbors
Or to be ruled by those unfathomable figures
Life predicted but true face of life yet in dark
Else real estate people pioneer to embark
Exhaust all asset to create buildings and malls
Avarice says explore…explore… Earth is too small
Bet You Did Not Know
Several mammalian species
When dropping their mammalian feces
Just before the big push
Will align their tush
Or so says this researches thesis
He watched 70 dogs of 30 plus breeds
Out in the woods completing their deeds
For each doggy sample
Through the woods did he trample
Until at last he did concede
At each defecation
And each urination
The researched noted the stance
And how each dog aligned
With his magnetic sign
And decided it was much more than chance
It seemed dogs did prefer to align their fur
Along the axis north to south
If the axis was stable
They always were able
To point to due north with their mouth
Just what did this gain us?
Just what did we learn?
When doggies took dumps, which way they did turn?
No we learned that in nature the magnetic field
Did something to some that to date was concealed
Maybe we’ve magnets buried deep in our brain
That someday, somehow we could possibly train
To give us directions when we’re lost or confused
I know that is something that I could sure use
And maybe this proves what they say with feng suhi
When designing our bathrooms, toilets and bidet
Our bowels will feel better, our bladders rejoice
If we let mother nature express her own voice
Uncle Mike
Another golden star had fell
Turn down your bright light
And let the candle flame burns slowly
While we honour the hero shrouded in his passing bell
Great larinde is no more, died in a violent struggle with death
And his award winning whole swims in a pool of emotional blood
The golden jewel is stolen by death
In a line we fails to hold, only to be imagined : had he still alive, he would have done like this.
Doctor Larinde has treated us this way. Like a selfish, he went all in all with his undaunted and vast talents.
Had we knew, we would have cried more than Elisha “our father! The chariot of Nigeria”
It seems that his magnificent talents can threatened the agents of death
While we believed his eloquences can cause death to shiver
Yet, the great warrior loses the battle like an amateur
While the his philosophical stands has not conquer death through researches
Even if the ground is painted by mourning and the whole world fails to contain the multitude of our words; the truth stands still : Larinde is gone, into a journey of no return.
O d’arinako, a d’oju ala, o di beni jo ni a b’eniyan n joyan
We love you but God loves you more.
Rat race is still to survive
A never surpassing desire
Years may come and go by
Life will breathe even in cry
Scholars at one end aspire
Speculate for time to be dire
Indicating evolution to retire
Fear of evil raises such satire
No steps to be heartily clever
Exploiting nature like never
If Technology will go reversal
Why wearing the cap of fervor?
Commandments of science
Corroding effect in life lines
Then why hatred still alive
Is not this greed just a futile?
Rather than a hilarious write
Each one should get up to join
Procure and nurture the divine
2012 and years will be bright
Name: Sneha Agarwal
It's 12 AM and I've got to correct 1,500 papers.
Mini-quizzes
Tests
Copy-pasted researches stacked to the ceiling,
Shadowing my feelings
Towering me like sky-scrapers!
They say those who can - do,
And those who cannot - teach.
I know this might come as a shock to you…
But I can, and I do, and I still teach!
This job has made nothing out of my reach.
I am PONDER WOMAN!
I make my students ponder upon all the world’s wonders…
Why did Shakespeare kill both Romeo and Juliet at the end?
Why is it easier to be yourself – and not pretend?
Why is the earth oval shaped – and slightly round?
Hush! Get back to your seat, and don’t you dare make a sound.
With this pen, all errors are fixed
A cruel X? Perhaps an accepting tick?
I make my students feel like.. Like.. Tens over tens!
I put the world in its right place… with my magical red pen.
Don’t they know? Don’t they know that all prophets are teachers?
That I have devoted my life, my time, and my energy to be their preacher?
That teachers are sculptors who shape their students personalities…
From nothing, into something.
That teachers are engineers who build an emotional base that is safe
For their students to stand strong in case of an earth quake –
That teachers are psychiatrists who can make their scholars love themselves,
Without invading their privacy.
That teachers are candles in the dark that light the way to knowledge
And endless possibilities.
That teachers are second mothers,
Who left their own kids to come to school and work!
Ah! Irony is berserk!
And I know that this might come as a shock to you…
It’s not about the money I make… for what is it worth
If my students are out of my reach…?
I mean, I am a teacher.
I can, and I do and I still teach.
How many friendly faces do I see in my chambers of recollection as I call up retrospect,
Cherished scenes rush to mind as its pinions bear me to the times which won't ever return,
Scenes now changed and altered like visions in the deepest of dreams so deep you're there,
Scenes of flower filled fields accessed only by hedge rowed old lanes that no longer exist.
The old lanes where flowers breathed fragrances high into a blue watery sky of days gone by,
That changed into streets and main roads with the noise they bring as we rush through life,
Once these fields had cows and sheep on the slopes and valley's rang with the animals bells,
I once picked bluebells, picked blackberries, picked hazelnuts, with sunbeams for company.
To run like the wind chasing butterflies gently catching them and blowing them off my hands,
How uninterrupted the tides of unhappiness that ripples in the deep recesses of my old mind,
The unclouded days that bathed me in sunshine that cast its brightness across the landscape,
How brilliant the fairy scenes that floats from the canvases out of the caverns of the past.
My sorrow was deep in picture postcard days, days were sweet and long, but my heart swells,
There was no blind grasp of faith, realization began to attend its researches, observations,
A sorrow that has stood the test of time, a bitter sorrow that broke me then as it does now,
Beautiful sorrow, as beautiful as an illustration, as lovely as a flower, as beautiful as an angel.
LAMENT FOR LARINDE
Another golden star had fell
Turn down your bright light
And let the candle flame burns slowly
While we honor the hero shrouded in his passing bell
Great larinde is no more, died in a violent struggle with death
And his award winning whole swims in a pool of emotional blood
The golden jewel is stolen by death
In a line we fails to hold, only to be imagined : had he still alive, he would have done like this.
Doctor Larinde has treated us this way. Like a selfish, he went all in all with his undaunted and vast talents.
Had we knew, we would have cried more than Elisha “our father! The chariot of Nigeria”
It seems that his magnificent talents can threatened the agents of death
While we believed his eloquence's can cause death to shiver
Yet, the great warrior loses the battle like an amateur
While the his philosophical stands has not conquer death through researches
Even if the ground is painted by mourning and the whole world fails to contain the multitude of our words; the truth stands still : Larinde is gone, into a journey of no return.
O d’arinako, a d’oju ala, o di beni jo ni a b’eniyan n joyan
We love you but God loves you more.
A bright morning sun reflected off the everlasting hills and over blushing flowers,
Then onto whispering trees heavy with fruit, over purling steams and dimpled lakes,
A poet, dipping his pen into the ink that writes of pure images in the urn of truth,
Writing besotted letters, of imperishable brightness, weighing immortality of nature.
Having the wisdom of nature suited to the right regulation and adjustment to changes,
That exists in man to understand the beauties of nature not just on a summer morning,
Nights are spent in the midnight oil chasing words to express the beauty we all see,
Words to highlight understanding to enhance desires and refinements to see as the poet.
Revelations not beyond reach to bring beautiful scenes into homes the true philosophy,
When philosophy acknowledges the unlimited range of its sphere bringing light to all,
Whose posy has charmed the fancy and whose works have enriched the world of letters,
Many poets whose eloquence has astonished even only a few, the researches are reward.