Best Roundly Poems
Of this, I've always wanted to write
How hard it is to grow up white
The very idea makes people uptight
Enough to cause a gigantic fight...
In this, the age of the diverse
There isn't much that could be worse
White skin's a plague, a veritable curse
It almost seems to be perverse...
So I've put this off as long as I can
Knowing the flames that it would fan
And how it would be roundly panned
If not utterly and completely banned...
Yet now's the time for a principled stand
This is the moment; here is my plan:
I stroll every day 'neath the sun in the sand
~ To turn my stubbornly white skin tan
September 05, 2019
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted To Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Just half a meter away is this semi-covered female
so fertile for a score of trees to grow on
smooth and soft, curvy and oily
a rich landscape for my longings to become playful penguins.
Her body’s map has been possessed by my hunger
and a split second is too long for our disappearance from door to bed
as the tiles beat my wardrobe to claim the auction of our flying clothes.
Fierce and aggressive, every act is industrialized for pain to taste sweet
a little harm is not unhealthy, let a smile show from the thorn’s tip
biting but patting softly; modesty, the only crime
pinning down and licking through, respect, out of bound
sharp pinching and slow tickling; legality is completely unwanted
summing up an erotic wrestling as intimate as the coiling of wires.
Tightly cornered ‘V’ in front, roundly curved ‘W’ behind
I gradually rise erectly, facing the clouds from under
to honour this beautiful respect towards the pattern of the english alphabets.
Muscles gliding over muscles
joints clicking in a uniform rhythm
produced fluids, keeping both souls sticky
love on stage and now in full display.
Sounds from raging hearts, dancing furniture, bullied foam
all in one competitive race.
Skins on fire for desires to completely burn
so hard, gets inside so wet;
everything else is then subjected to a bouncing and stretching symphony.
It is nothing but refreshing
to abuse our privacy and change the colours of its secrecy;
mourn all night my love and let our instincts ride this luxurious yacht.
Published: 6/25/2020
For the Sensuality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Placement: 2nd (7/1/2020)
Her Round Light
Why do lovers write
of moon,
of sun,
of stars?
Or fireflies
kept in jars?
Is a woman comparable
with light?
Can she,
will she
Illuminate
the night?
Can grace,
can beauty,
be combined with might?
The answer friend
I say is yes.
With mind,
with fingers
I caress.
I want her more,
never less.
Hand to heart
forever pressed.
Yes my love for her
I enthusiastically confess.
The colours of planets
combined with her scent.
Her light like a halo
roundly bent.
The sea,
the sun,
the moon
and stars,
are all witnesses
that grace is heaven sent.
1.
An irascibelephant whom no-one could trust
Had a whim to run amok, or bust!
Though roundly condemned by his peers as a skunk,
From interception they’d cowardly shrunk,
Saying simply, “Old boy, if you musth, then you musth!”
2. Elephants have as a favourite pursuit
A fondness for tasty doum palm fruit,
Though when of this delight they are sated,
The tuskers can become quite inebriated,
And stagger home in enormous wobbly-boots!
I am sorry,
I am very sorry,
This is for my daughter
I mean my young, beautiful pet.
That was it, the voice of my friend
Who now prides himself
Of another daughter across the street
Only God knows how many of such
I mean those susceptible to his carrot.
Indeed, very young
Full of life to live
Looking innocently attractive
Until he crept into her life.
Her Aunt’s door left ajar
She fell like a pack of card.
He dazzles her Aunt with intermittent gifts
He branded the girl “My daughter”
My innocent friend became a father
And dangles before his daughter a lanky carrot.
As times tickles away,
The daughter not only eats the golden carrot
But she swallows it gently with exactitude
Yet, her Aunt saw no changes
When carrots thickens her sister’s hips
And her flat buttocks getting curved roundly
While her chest pointer getting shaped
Her Aunt still blinded with gifts of “Suya and bread”.
Here comes this day knocking
As my friend’s daughter
Vomits and coughs repeatedly,
She feigned to be well before her Aunt.
“Nothing, I’m okay”
She smiled to her friends
And pretends to all
But grim only at her father
The act got caught short
Not for too long,
Now we all know,
That she has swallowed her father’s carrot
And it got stucked in her throat.
When?, Where?, Who?, her Aunt queried
Three months ago, she retorted
My . . . My . . . My . . . father, she replied.
Before eyes got blinked,
My friend’s was out of town
In search of another daughter.
Alayande Stephen T.
11.05am
4th August, 2007
Spiced up for my good friend Tope and his daughter.
It all happened on my visit to Abuja.
Suya- An Hausa language (from Nigeria) for roasted meat.
Naturally regenerative
living systems,
like Earth
optimize global ecological opportunities
as co-redemptive economies
of loving solidarity relationships
expressing mutual not-negative subsidiarity,
within a web of interdependent Win-Win default networks.
If we are born passionate investments
of past yang/yin regenerations
redeeming economic risks
weighed as ecological opportunity
for pleasuring pleasant peace
with active love for all species,
all nature,
all Earth,
all Universal Intelligence,
then are we also,
at least potentially,
an interdependent species
of co-redeeming economists
thinking and acting and relating and feeling
sensing and feeling and smelling and tasting
touching and respecting and appreciating ecologically balanced reasons,
seasons of time and pattern and rhythm?
Where fasting advents precede
and roundly follow
cornucopic polycultural seasons for all cells
and organelles.
We find and sustain co-therapeutic relationship balance
half way between Yang-ego's deductive-reductive immunity boundaries
and Yin-eco's intuitive receptive co-operativity,
co-redemptivity,
correlation-ability,
mutual empathic gratitude
polypathic trans-actional multisystemic relationships.
If co-redeemers are messiahs
then we are also mutual bodhisattvas
as we intend cooperative Win-Win eco-normative salvation
and eco-logically therapeutic outcomes.
Perhaps mutual messiahs find it simpler to wrestle with,
rather than against death's pain and suffering,
to figure out what to divest of
by reconnecting within each moment's present opportunity
to what and whom and when and where and why we invest integratively
with each Other's health and well-being,
co-redemptive economically rational, yet passionate, logic,
as well as Right-brain's intuitive temperate sense of balance,
proportion,
enthymematic syntax
permaculturing rooted rhythms
of mindful songs
and global dance.
Ego's Logos as co-determinate partner
with Eco's Right-brain Mythos
co-redemptive political design
re-creating economic developmental revolutions.
She laces this dark late winter's evening
with white manna grace,
flowing flying frosting
folding in and over and around
dark naked tree limbs
Dressed up and out
under ice limned networks
down in-flowing rivers
emptying onto cold cover
of frozen lace-flake
shivering shimmering
sad season
Hovers over what had been
pedestrian front predation lawn,
now transforming and mesmerizing
ecstatic ice crystals
Twinkle in response
as their ice-flame children
follow in post solstice pilgrim path
to die their individuality
within this here-now scurried view.
I smile, perhaps flirtatiously,
within shy winter's virgin dream,
a stubborn storm of snow
softly settling
quieter than white noise still
so so civilly right,
a silent black then white
bright moving set
frames a roundly wonderful life.
S/he is not smiling back;
I know that
But I feel this cold embrace
teasing tickling of too-perfect beauty,
hope imagining S/he could sleep
within heaven's blanket
Dream down Her winter's rain
for deep composting thirst
to drink through walls of hibernating glad
brewing spring's warmest winding offer.
This could go on all night
free of freezing fright
This reverse stalking
inside window peeper out
across front and back porches
Glazing Gaia's grace
elational transfiguration,
silent musing ecodrama
shows off Her magic show
for those with ears to see
through silent first snow
of momentous perennial occasion
Falling just in time
to brighten this sad day for dreams
of Beloved black in white Communions
spreading EarthMother's silent storm
Of love,
impossible to ever sleep
deep same again
Unlikely to become unlover,
to uncover
supremely white slippery cover.
Such elegant purgation grace!
I would dishonor Her
to break such silent sleep
within surrender's coldly storming space.
A K-8 school, J.S. Waters, was roundly chastised today
Its students held a 'mock' slave auction
This happened in March, in North Carolina, in the year 2022
White students sold black students as slaves, and used the n-word too
One boy went for $350, later he was clubbed with a baseball bat
So, if you roll your eyes over 'Racism?' --in the USA?
~ You ought to think long and hard about that
Fire the principal, the teachers involved, expel the white participants too
Throw the book at the adults, and at those white kids too
Make an example of these horrid beasts, so this NEVER happens again...
We dare not wonder why Civil War wounds have yet to mend
Humanity has no support to duty
Both contrary in dealing and punctuality:
Non-the-less deny each claims still their validity
Former needs emotional skip where later regularity!
Humanity is a thing roundly soul concern
Fancies of many idles, despotic and obligates.
Estimate not to beautify active approach return;
Deserve aid remarkable quiet pleasing black arts.
Duty declares the deed must accomplish statutable,
Gratitude, greed and gratification are sub-judice here-of:
A crazy caution compel to foil inapplicable
Yonker's pride, old hand cultivated doctrinal of.
Certain condition humanity plays role of pre-eminence
Duty looks wanting help out of heels.
Depending on probation of sincerity convince,
Rejecting deep binder satisfactorily set aside exceeds.
If stands duty and humanity both together.
Glorifies the spirit immortal as His name
And also deal showing clean impersonality further,
None appeal to mercy could not dare blame.
now close your eyes and see afar
the leveled horizon of the raconteur
who wields a power to conjure up
past daily drudge and interrupt
the mind to spark synapse connection
and fill it full of extrospection
tales of manes of horses and highways
and roughish plots galloping sideways
lovers and warriors and conniving wives
jesters too clever, and kings too unwise
jungles and oceans and barbarism abound
chests well treasured, and ships run aground
the chronicles continue crafting of characters
sublime scenes surveyed, defying descriptors
but sit, carry on flying fast o'er the earth
to hear the whole story of the whole universe
as the narrator goes on giving of account
with panache and flair to roundly expound
to ears of intensive interest say the least
about angels, gods, and the mark of the beast
to frighten, to enrage, to amuse for the now
to tearfully weep, for protagonist not allowed
to come to the zenith of courage and triumph
instead falling to dispair, of dim-lit asylum
and the teller continues on with the tale
of wills and inheritance and prospects unavailed
our enchantment's complete, attention absolute
to relish the stories with complete gratitude
crowds riot and armies and plagues awash over
the forests, the cities, green fields of clover
to roll on with the chronicle told by the fire
bombastic or mundane, more infatuating desire
the story is loved, and by the teller caressed
to be passed to the listener now happily blessed
what, we wonder, could be better than this
to be held by this tale, and passionately kissed
© Goode Guy 2014-02-24
It’s ironic how those touting tolerance
So singularly lack the trait they tout—
Can a want of self-awareness account for it?
Appeals to reason roundly fail.
Indeed they seem inimical to logic:
They cry “Love!” and “Tolerance!”
While spewing hate and exclusion.
Can they not see their hypocrisy?
Have they no sense of the disconnect
Between their stated aims and real deeds?
The oracle said: Know thyself—
Self-awareness is the beginning of wisdom.
But the time indeed is out of joint—
They have become so self-absorbed
They no longer see each other
Except as virtual reflections,
Set pieces in a world reduced to
A kind of one-character play,
Where they are both star and cast…
And has this not a longtime been
How we define insanity?
Welcome to the Cyber Dark Ages!—
Where people sitting side by side oblivious
And heedless only communicate in tweets,
Where real human relationships have been coopted
By narcissistic digitized connections.
The divide between the actual and the virtual
Is blurred and then disintegrated, the sheer
Integrity of concepts like reality and fictiveness
Overwhelmed in a tsumami of silicon blandishments.
And this enslavement to technology is integrally
Part of the growing lack of compassion and charity
That more and more usurps our public discourse.
For the “elephant in the room” may yet turn out to be
That rough beast that slouched towards Bethlehem
To be born... here -- now-- among us.
I
Paul warned his "son" Timothy, On Guard
In the end time, many false prophets disguised
Even as angels from heaven, will tickle ears
And many will be led astray; Jesus is "too much"
To take, one in Adelaide told me:
The Bible takes you that much, "eyes" that see
Know the apple was really a "sexual act" in Genesis 1
Brennan (Branham, yes, Anaya) tells them much more
About serpents and Adam who didn't sin
So blame Eve & Women, Jesus needs help
From prophets born in modern nations we know ...
Where does it end? Spoken Word & other "church" finds a new prophet
Who teach us how to read The Word --
As the Popes, priests, Pharisees did
Roundly rebuked in Matthew 23
How easy: heretics say, they alone can see
Jesus had an answer there too (John 9)
At times we should not be afraid
to roundly call a spade a spade.
I shrink not from a reference
to a fearful pestilence.
From Leo the king to a lowly vole,
the fear of death held all in thrall.
Even the amorous turtledove
found no appetite for love.
At last King Leo called together
birds big and small of every feather,
dogs, wolves, hares, horses, cattle,
to join a mighty fearless battle
against a woe that knew no measure,
that revealed divine displeasure.
In a tone both low and grave
the king proposed a way to save
his subjects from destruction's pit
in a way that would best fit.
"Beloved creatures, renouncing sins
alone celestial pardon wins.
Let each of us search heart and soul.
to find what error played a role
in provoking Heaven's frown,
sparing not Our royal crown.
We too have erred, let Us confess,
sharing guilt for the present mess.
Often We - Oh, truth to tell -
a flock of harmless sheep befell.
We must not omit to say,
the shepherd too his life did pay."
"Your conscience is too tender, Sire"
From all such self-reproach retire!
That shepherd got his just reward;
for humankind no tear afford.
Us animals they kill, enslave.
The world has lost but one more knave."
Thus spoke the wolves dressed in black
whose legal minds no cunning lack.
The animals told, one by one
all the wicked things they'd done
until it was a donkey's turn
to say for what his heart did burn.
"Once I was standing at a fence,
For what I did there's no defence.
I felt an urge - o woe betide! -
to munch grass on the neighbor's side.
Some demon drove me to so act.
Conscience forbid I hide the fact."
"Oh monstrous sin! Abomination!
Betrayal of the animal nation!
'Tis this wicked foolish ass
that has incurred God's wrath, alas!
The court did not brook delay.
Someone had the price to play.
We come
Those of us who make it through
That tenuous canal
Fraught with more peril
Than ever before
Compliments of those
Who deem us
Mere jetsam
To be jettisoned
For any whim
In any month
Of the nine
Combined with normal exigencies
Create a journey
Which is both
Physically
And mentally
Exhausting
How do I come to such knowledge
You may ask
We have ways
Far beyond human comprehension
Of communicating
With each other
We, the fetuses
(As ordained by those
Who not only permit
But encourage
Our demise)
Who have navigated
Within
And been nourished
By
The vessel
(We once called them
"Mother"
But ceased to do so
When we were roundly dismissed
As "Fetal tissue")
For ninety days
Know our rights
And yet
Our voices
Alas
Cannot be heard
I, however
Am seven months along
My peers, jokingly,
Refer to me as "Einstein"
Not without merit
I, modestly, admit
For I did design
The apparatus I am using
To print script
Which outsiders
(As we call humans)
Can comprehend
I have two more months
Until I am free
Still, I cannot rest
Easy
For my vessel
Is a single woman
Who could decide
Legally
As current laws stand
To have me
BUTCHERED
If, however
I should survive
That which
I never asked for
To begin with
I vow
I shall
Someday
Tell the story
Of my journey
To all the world
Pray I win
Please
Kindest regards
Timothy
PS
Please force
Every vessel
To view the sonar
Before they terminate
The fetus
Perhaps that act
Will cause them to
See us as
Babies
And allow us to
Once more
Call them
Mother
Can you make an obtuse plight
spherical right,
can you square the circle?
Do you scalene sleight get it,
can you rectangular height dig it?
If rainbow arc so,
then you better
circular karma glow get with it
You sho’ adjacent betta
golden rule live it
Righteous turns
get bless additions
On a four wheel spin
of goodwill fortune
Where U end
is where you were newly
meant to begin
Square the circle:
Be an acute downpour uprooter,
have a perpendicular pulse purpose
Make a pure honeycomb ascension drip-spill
into a hexagonal cuppa love abundantly filled
No feint flatlines gon get
any divine vector flight time
A spiritual incline soar
on a celestial circumference tour
Do you in deed isosceles need
some radius thought wave more,
are you pi parallel peep sure?
Don’t be a triangle head dummy,
filled with octagon notions —
Racked with void e-motions
For the cue ball life of thee,
square the circle —
Or firmament-ly, forever be cry roundly ignored
Do you wanna go
curvature cradle ride empty?
Then let not the circle
be root squared improperly
Have a concentric life story ()()() next-gen hope inspiring
Lest your grail soul unilaterally be
permanently removed from the spiral quest board