Best Unschooled Poems
Spawn of the arcane, glutted, she sprawls upon the sands
of mythos. As victims, star-crossed lovers, outcasts,
we have all seen the traces of these nether lands.
Sphinx-like, besotted, she lays among the bodies dashed.
A pixie smith has cast her silver chains, retained her
inside this mystic plane, stained her hide vintage rose.
Among the cards on the table, it is plain; she purrs.
Do you know what she knows; guess, a riddle she poses.
Protection sought from life's trials is at her command.
But, few coupled or single have journey past her grasp.
Unknown, to the unschooled, their senses unused, banned,
Christendom, the sacred fecund grail has miscast.
From Hatshepsut's visage, bound to Sekhmet she's sworn
beware, beware The Chariot's card once it is drawn.
I AM THE BANANA TREE
I am the banana tree
That dwells where rivers meet ;
I am the banana tree
That dwells where sun lives;
On fertility I tower ; believe,
Your party hour has come
You shall now eat my fruits,
As these buds you see now
Shall wither not till fruits they become.
When they call me barren
And say I am fruitless and arid ;
They that once invaded my field
And carted away my buds,
I heed not their buzz ;
When they mock my torn leaves
And call me progenitor of scarecrow ;
They that once stowed their holds
Till cambers with my seeds,
I lend no ear ; when unschooled children
Call aleovera vegetable,do we blame them?
Their ignorance my knowledge
Though they don’t know me
I know who I am: sucker of millions nods.
My first pollination they arborted
When like gladiators they came
And destroyed my foliage like locusts
When they brought elephants to my garden
And scattered all my heaps and ridges
When they mutilated me like unedible snake
How so soon they forget that call me infertile !!!
Thanks for procreation that multiplies my breed
And erects a signpost of my lavish fertility
In their Lady and Lord’s vineyards forever.
Rejoice Africans;
Yours is not a barren womb
Rejoice, yours is not infertile -
I am the banana tree sprouting form the stump
Of old flourished tree the wicked cruelly felled ;
The sepulchre is opened , my resurrection has begun
It is dawn of my accession , my glorious hour has come
Because I am the banana sucker, this a tree you see now
Shall tomorrow plantation become.
Uncouth, unschooled in art,
that's what you'll say of me,
You know, I've tried so hard,
but I still have to see
da Vinci's Mona Lisa's mythic,
mystic smile
bewitching folks allegedly
even from a mile.
It looks to me she parts
her lips so daintily
to let a drunken hiccup out
so gracefully,
or stop a vulgar burp,
hyperacidity,
or hide those nicotine-blackened
teeth artfully.
But honestly, nothing in her
mouth's symmetry
remotely resembles a smiling
mystery,
perhaps she's toothless, some
dental deformity,
believe you me, I took up
ortho-dentistry!
As time flies bye
No tears, so why do I cry?
I don’t see myself living to be with a kid and a wife
Who needs that strife?
My thoughts are my crown,
My pants never hanging down,
No time for regrets
I will not let them see me sweat
Life allows death to remain within; thanks to God I’m still alive.
Death must allow life, for life to yet thrive and survive.
A fool is not a fool, unless he's still a fool to himself.
Especially when you don’t take heed to advice from someone else
A fool is still a genius, not a fool, left all unschooled.
So being patient is not my tool.
The usual becomes unusual. Oneness is left all outdone.
All differences are not differences to be shunned in one.
As I watch things unfold and let things take shape at its own pace.
I constantly ask myself who is running this race?
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze
Filled with nothing, lack of education- they bawl
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas
Seventy-two million children unschooled- please
Poverty stricken- we must try to help them all
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze
Over seven-hundred and fifty million adults are illiterate- geez
Girls least likely to receive education- damn that wall
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas
undeveloped brains- be'eth the sizes of peas
Deprived from knowledge their brains will remain small
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze
The rights to educate we must not seize
If we doth not rise- they will fall
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas
I pray for them- down on my knees
Let the world hear my beckon call
Balloon heads float amongst the breeze
Inequality from different ethnicities across the seas
A Major World Problem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
4/27/2021
Leonardo da Vinci
Great painter of Italian Renaissance,
Unquenchable curiosity,
Human anatomy his fav,
engineer and scientist,
Sculptor and inventor,
Illegitimate,
Most eclectic,
polymath,
Unschooled
Whiz.
Nonet
Written Dec 11th, 2015
For contest "Fav painter" by Nayda
“In no time, made myself indispensable
I bask now in the sunshine of my popularity
I have made the young and old my minions,
Giving each one what he wants
Snippets of news, served in lightning speed
A magic world unraveled at the click of a button
Making you sedate as with opium
Turning you into addicts of my hypnotic charm
Some stay wide eyed staring into my screen
‘Night owls’ who refuse to follow the dictum-
‘Early to bed and early to rise’-
The time old ‘mantra’ for wellness
I imprison you in a world of make believe
Where only we two exist, you and I
Your spirit arrested without handcuffs
Your eyes, resting no more on what is around
Confined to a virtual cage, you turn into a prisoner
Sadly, the key in your hands tightly clutched!
Remember, you are as free as you choose to be
I have my sway only on the gullible....!
Alas! With your sense of direction lost
You turn into a moth, caught fast in my web,
Mysteriously drawn into my incandescent light,
Unaware of the peril looming or the claws tightening”
Folks, break free of this confinement, cut off the hooks
Your spinning around only makes you dizzy
Digital technology turns a boon, when used discreetly
Smart phones, a bliss making the whole world within reach
Sans this, we fall headlong into primordial darkness,
Unschooled of what happens around, unable to cope with change
So squeeze out the essence and discard the dregs
And embrace your transition from the possessed to the blessed!
Placed First
Jan.8.2022
Let’s Explore Digital Technology Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Simon Rogerson
SHE'S MY CHOICE AND MY CROSS.
You told me beauty is merely skin deep
Wasn't that the reason I wooed her in the first place
Said it doesn't cook afang soup
I've not forgotten my way to mama put
You said she doesn't respect my mother
Excuse me don't make that sound like murder
Forget graduate Tinuke
I prefer beautiful unschooled Amanda
Even though she can't prepare amala
You said she's not intelligent
She does what I like and she's so efficient
Who said she's not sound
Have you heard her bedroom sound
She is not of classy source
But she's sassy and I dey enjoy her ponmo sauce
That she is mentally scanty is mere rumour
Even if she is, I enjoy the momentary humour
Who even needs that educated feminist
I have had enough troubles with chemistry
She can't speak fluently in the crowd
You need to see her in bed so succulent and loud
If you say she's crude and lousy
Excuse me sister , crude oil get value pass kerosene
Say my wife no go school
But she sabi hold spoon
Asking who will help my kids with their assignment
How that one take be your concernment
When we have kids we'll make arrangement
You dey tell me say I no get sense
Sister, you no dey see well go wear your contact lens
You claim she's using juju on me
But I'm enjoying the fufu she gives to me
You claim she's full of violence
You're wrong she doesn't just like pretence
Though she slapped me once in the open
It was because I burnt the food in the oven
That won't make our love to be broken
Now she's fat and won't hit the gym
It's OK Yoruba men don't like them slim
She's daft and can't stand a mental debate
Who even likes a wife that argues
If she ties wrapper round her chest
She doesn't want men to covet
If she was born of parents of colourful poverty
I've acquired the asset and the liability
Right now she's my sole property
Say all you want about her
She's my choice and my cross
(FM CONCEPTUAL ???)
When a fetus or baby, I then could have been:
Born to mother who died, or with father unknown
Into poverty born in a nation not free
With impairments or problems I've never outgrown
Or by parents aborted if she, not a he.
I was lucky
When a child and teenager, I could have been:
A delinquent or orphan or war refugee
Or abandoned or crippled, for child labor used
Without friends, joy, or future or dead from OD
Or unschooled or deprived or unloved or abused.
I was lucky
When full-grown in my prime, I could also have been:
An inebriate, parasite, vagrant, or jailed
Or been killed in a war or had not met my wife
Unemployed or an entrepreneur who had failed
Or severely depressed or had taken my life.
I was lucky
And I could in the decades that followed have been:
Unexpectedly fired, into bankruptcy forced
By an accident maimed, watching children go bad
Or a victim of crime or been sued or divorced
Or betrayed by a friend, or gone stark, raving mad.
I was lucky
With retirement approaching, I then could have been:
From my children estranged, mourning death of my wife
Or investing unwisely or homeless or broke
Having manic disorders or bored with my life
Or in hospital bed with a cancer or stroke.
I was lucky
Over eighty, like many my age I could be:
With no pension or savings or family left
Or dependent on charity, begging, or theft
In a nursing home languishing, sad and confined
All alone and an invalid, witless, or blind.
I am lucky (or blessed)
i do the dance of circumstance
my brain react to a simple Mercenaries attack
red, leaky, small vain, and poison pains
what great planing
makes me see that
there's no hope for me
and the suns of no shining
old man from the hood, stopped me
and said
"you'll, never get back your property
so, taken back by how much the
hood new about me and the people
who where sealing from me
so i gave the hell-up
and never say a word
because who would believe
me over theses whit (with) money
bigger than i can see
i am so
Synonyms: ignorant, not informed, not knowing, oblivious, unbriefed, uneducated, unenlightened, uninformed, uninstructed, unschooled
about the real crimes of the world
and wonder why my education didn't inform me, as to how too
get my rights...
maybe that's the way its will always be...
Dumb and Dumber and Gullible
Easy to spot
old men in Red hats
MAGA meanies
cranky and angry
that the world has matured
and they sit in their rot
lie and lie and smear the truth
very sore losers and so uncouth
feed them falsehoods
they drink it like beer
show them an immigrant
see them shiver in fear
Now Canada and Australia
not perfect for sure
just more common sense
than unschooled hatred
simply very immature
they voted for a better choice
the haters will deny
the majority should have the bigger voice
Of all the letters you have written
Your last letter is the best,
And even in your apprehension
Stands apart from all the rest!
More love, more hope, more savoir faire than
I have ever seen before
The very pathway to your heart seems
More and more an open door
Apologies weren’t left unspoken
Nor were any punches pulled
Courageously pursuing joint health
Your emotions left unschooled.
I see real movement in your life now
And a soul nearly unchained,
No judgment if love comes or goes for
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
And there’s new courage in your footsteps,
New excitement in your smile,
Forever friends that you can count on,
Trust that makes your life worthwhile.
Your anger at ‘God’s absence’ fading,
His provision your strong arm,
Emerging love of self that serves you,
True faith that protects from harm.
Those expectations that once killed love
Now are lifting from your veil.
While aspirations to be servant
Nurture love that cannot fail.
Oh feel my faith that Love’s the answer,
Friend to ev’ry question known,
The boundless fount of ev’ry smile’s light,
Cure for ev’ry sacred groan.
Brian Johnston
January 8, 2015
those that went to school for wisdom
and pack knowledge in brains
where is the wisdom kept anyway?
where is the knowledge bagged?
in the tears, hot-heads they cause masses?
in falsehood they cherish in relationships?
in hatred they practice while powerful?
I think schools and schooling are for sure
living people’s graves, chambers of dying
man-made tombs, valleys of mis-education
dwelling places of dark powers where
the primitive ignorant go for brainwashing
to graduate in malice and indolence
tell me; wars in this beautiful world
damage and depletion of ozone layer
injustice in this homely human society
are these the works of the unschooled?
are they not master plans of destruction,
by the ones who went to school; and
got their hearts boiled hard, heads baked,
with cynicism to hate, destroy, condemn?
why not try de-schooling, dismiss education?
I think the primitive innocent and
the destructive knowledgeable and wise
should have separate planets as homes
for peace, safety and liberty to flourish here
We’re never uncivil,
But sewage, it’s raw,
Pumped over the innocent.
It’s displayed and sprayed
Over every infant.
We’re uncivil all the time.
We’re never unschooled,
But the teaching is stopped,
Taken from kid’s minds.
It’s hidden and forbidden,
Every child is blind.
We’re unschooled all the time.
We’re never immoral,
But justifying a rape
Of a five year old boy,
The kid is blamed, is shamed
For being a toy.
We’re immoral all the time.
We’re never unjust,
That woman who got raped,
Raped by a guard,
Is locked in a cell, a living hell,
Stands alone in the prison yard.
We’re unjust all the time.
Each day we hurt and violate,
We remove and isolate,
We turn our nationhood from fair
To despair,
We create distrust and disgust,
We need to be civil, schooled, moral and just.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.