Best Visionaryold Poems
DOES CHANGE CHANGE?
For history is wont to repeat itself
Ever reneging, constant turning on the hinges
For the old in nature’s obeisance
Enter oblivious existence
That the present may succeed the past
For things now visible and feasible
Were once formless vision, thoughts and whispered words
Does change change?
Will there be housing unit or tourist centre in the moon?
Will a white smoke produce a black pope
Will monarchy be separated from British democracy
Will Christian and Muslim find a common ground?
For the present order and scheme
Were the embryonic idea in the belly of the past
For just above some 1oo years ago
Popular commerce was the transatlantic slave trade
The equivalent of 21st century crude oil and narcotics
Long before Wilberforce crossed Hull’s bridge
Does change change?
Will terrorism go the way of the dead and forgotten
Will Palestine find Stately peace?
Will Osama ever find the salaam in Islam
Will Hamas and Zionists find a common factor of human race
For barely 15 years ago
Apartheid’s spectre stood stoically in South Africa
The Black now reign where they once toiled like lesser humans
For small-pox once held terror court
Near and far, leaving more casualties than wars
Dreaded like its 21st century incarnation –HIV
Less than 50 years ago
Black lived as slaves in sugarcane plantations across US
Now US first family is full blooded black
Does change change?
Will HIV become a mere word of old English
Will guns and nuclear weapons
Enrich and adorn our museum in 25 years now
Would Iran be rich in Uranium or people?
Will peace find a permanent seat in security council?
For it was Kings and Princes some time before
Reigned over lesser mortals as Lords and Masters
of the known world called empires and kingdoms
Now the emerging relics of our collective past
Wall-posters of where we have been, and regal tourist attractions
Government houses now in place of kingly courts; parliaments for palaces
Does change change?
Will semantics of poverty change to… say… property or plenty?
Will there be equality of the classes
Will woman truly be equal to man
Will there come a time when the day will nor break?
Will science conquer death?
Some time ago
Women were best house-keeping, voteless second class citizens
15th Saturday October 2009.
Crossing over the threshold
creaks as loud as thunder
wallpaper peeling from years of old
like all of its memories of yonder
The wallboards and the floors
just bursting to tell
their many stories of yore
that only they knew too well
An old fireplace in its grandeur
with cracked bricks and holes
still has the same majestic hearth
heart of a loving home
Now leaning in sadness
empty and all alone
with loving care and tenderness
will again be a beautiful home
So as I strive to bring
its beauty back to life again
I can hear the old house sing
its proud song as it did once then
And your son
Fathered you
To carry him against the disbelief
And anger of conventions
And you gave birth
To the death of old traditions
That will not die
That stones your memory
With silence
For children are not products
Of wedlock
That die in new crucifixions
On crosses in the womb
And the old lie
Of third world overpopulation
You were a gift from him
And he the gift in you
Telling us
We are heritages of the Lord
Like Solomon
Building a sacred place of prayer
For the culture of our sins ...
I do not call you intercessor
I call you courage
Of the better example
Of love's perpetuity
In this poem you find me standing alone in the darkness of night. Standing in this same
place while the sun is up would have been of little or no consequence. Somehow darkness
triggers the element of fear in
Me. I become afraid and my imagination begins to play tricks on me.
When the bewitching hour of midnight arrives I begin to imagine that I see weird and
horrible specters made by the nights shadows cast by the wind swept branches of the trees
that encircle me.
In frenzy and close to madness my mind begins to hallucinate. In a trancelike state my
mind thinks it sees three large ghosts. The ghosts are symbols of Mans three greatest
fears: The fear of poverty, The fear of getting old and the fear of dying. The most
destructive of the three (poverty) steps forward. And in a loud voice speaks. She states
that all my fears are two-fold. First, I fear the inevitability of old age and death and
the probability of poverty. That these fears are by my own hand because I cling to
ancestral fears that were and still are a mixture of ignorance and religious fantasies and
the cause of all my dread.
Standing in the silence of the night when
Heavenly sights disappear from my view
I found myself lonely and afraid. Then
As midnight approached the shadows turned to
Horrid, winged specters leaping about me.
I was mesmerized by their ghastliness.
Suddenly there appeared from their midst three
Giant ghosts standing before me possessed.
The largest of the three stepped forward. She
Began to speak in a thunderous voice.
"Your fear is two-fold: You fear what you see,
Us! At the same time your fears are by choice.
You cling to ancestral fears concocted
In ignorance, steeped in religious dread."
Old Monroe will be destroyed
He does not like the fact
That many of His children
Have to leave here unemployed.
Old Monroe will be gone.
He never wanted it to last
This long. Satan's power
Never wanted to see this
Place flourish.
Student's who are here
Are getting their brains
Malnourished by treacherous
Teachers and punched by
Phony principals.
God's children who are here
Are getting their spririts
Malnourished by money-hungry
Preachers who are turned on
By church hoes.
People still believe that they
Are smaller than they actually
Are because the evil spirit
Of racism drives old Monroe's car.
Some believe that they will
Forever be poor and really
Love God and are often treated
Odd and never given a chance
To actually advance will dance
In new Monroe and advance
After all of the old will be destroyed
Some lives will be spared
And after that the city will be rebuilt
And the inferior infrastructure repaired
The many talented who left old Monroe
Unemployed will come back home to
New Monroe where kingdom-minded
Prosperity will roam.
wrote 12-2-10
based on Jeremiah
There once was a desperate lonely old man walking through hot desert Sun.
He was completely sand blown and all his garments dangling totally undone.
But he walked as a sharp shooter aimed bowed and arrowed in the Sun’s way,
He seemed to be searching indefatigably for a higher score on a brighter day!
His whole entire world he had left,
Leaving each of everything behind!
He could feel his sunshades begin to slide slip and melt.
That poor old man was about to lose his beautiful mind.
Then he looked up at the vast Sun and this is what he said
Me! Oh! My! “I Do As I Must So Now As I Must Give My High Recommend”,
A dash of this or toss of that brews my seasonal mixtures into weather’s blend!
I really, truly and knowingly do give you my honorable High Recommend,
Just so I can commend my natural amends coursing thy self on honors end!