The gigantic acacia tree would testify
Were it not for savage ravages of rot
That erase feeble living things that die
After decades under sun’s missiles hot.
And the birds that chirruped and flew
About as he trudged over hill and bend
Long went like all weak beings of flight,
And no more can lasting credence lend.
If old baobab trunks had tongues that turn
Methinks they would solid testimony avail,
Of how devoutly he toiled in dews and sun
And never refrained from heaven-sent toils.
But since baobab trunks unspeaking are
And birds such fleeting breaths have they,
Can cold unfeeling stones their version say:
Tell how over them hopped he on his way?
Though villainous eyes those labors saw,
Witnessing their tireless winds and turns;
None would ranks of vile ignominy break
And end this betrayal that achingly burns.
And for want of witness this sobbing soul
Perishes and dissolves like a soaking loaf
Amid bootless heavens’ amnesic lethargy,
As cruel decades to a rude century morph.
magician
contrition
priestess
be blessed
emperor
forore
empress
depress
lovers
in clovers
footles
bootless ! ~ >
In the Mansion House
On a January day
The framework of the nation
And its future did lay
Deputy Johnson
Brought forth his brand-new assignment
If the Democratic Programme did pass
T’would alter our social alignment
Yet, Johnson and Labour
Were met with strict opposition
Economic democracy
Was not the Gaelic League’s mission
Instead, fix the language
And paint the letterbox green
To feed the bootless children
They were none too keen
A state of ‘freedom’ being
Rhetorical and flowerful
All that changed was
The colour of the flag
And the accents of the powerful
Haply I think on thee
The lark of wholeness
At break of a new day
Wipes away separation's grip
And rises in recognition of
The sullen stories which
Separate me and thee...CC
Interpreting:
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
~~William Shakespeare..Sonnet 29
Temporal Dilettante Journalist
David J Walker
no-thing need not name the nameless
breaks the morning in disguise
shakes the shame and wakes the shameless
quench tormented turbid eyes
the bootless errand realized
who shakes the hand but shuns the banquet
a polymath of nullity
a picnic spread on follies blanket
the argot of a fervent plea
omnifarious frivolity
dante sings symphonic anthems
measured meters latin chants
pardons plied to paphian sanctions
the queen retorts in satin rants
a paupers portion the monarch grants
bemoans the message minimalized
Ten years spun into ballooning wear
Keep slipping through tighter fingers,
Fresh year's tries in futility repair
Adamant dents of wasting days.
Naive New Year's Eves pop in and go
In swift succession of dying dreams,
Most astute labors bootless bow;
Giving up more rewarding seems.
No tiny stone now unturned remains,
Yet progress-freezing agues fetid ail;
Stinging more than adder's fang ever sunk
Into most luck-lacking lamb's sleekest tail.
Expressionless Heaven looks on still,
As basest ills and brutish hell as one
Choke to death firmest hope's last ray;
As faith fruitless toils beneath the sun.
Life, ne'er the primrose path of dalliance
for me (and in league with this shady world),
like the accused who has no innocence,
fleeced me as my tribulations unfurled;
deprived and in disgrace with Fortune's eyes,
with all hope lost and none at all to care,
I implored heaven with my bootless cries,
and cursed my fate, crying to God in prayer,—
Who saw my afflictions and gave me rest
at last, as well as respite and reprieve:
all these blessings to which I can attest
that spring from His grace (in which I believe).
Tho' life's “a thief” and I was “his victim,”
God was there to “arrest and convict him!”
old man
big plan
ladies
nineties
big t*ts (*i :)
will fit
toothless
bootless
his grief
no kiss
old date
your fate
time out
he pouts
Dedicated to Tom & Jan
02.11.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Blunt brain such stale dogma holds
Tighter than crags hug dewy molds;
She spurns sparks Reason confers,
And terms sanest wit profitless fuss.
Sweetest rank her outmoded views,
Above strictest sense and full clues;
Cherished most within inured cloud
Are her trite thought frail and proud.
Proffer sure-shining cachings of gold
For faintest morsel of heresies retold,
And she'll a more precious jewel find
Brighter still under Diablo's airier rind.
Her creed says receive and cede not
Wild bootless notions simpletons got;
Let benevolent Logic his carats keep,
And her inane whims have their leap.
Her wild treasures heavier than lead
Shall endless grace that jaded head,
Until wilier ticks of blind-mute clocks
Hit Eternal Proof that sees and talks.
Somewhere in the wilderness,
Among the barren deserts,
And under the swarthy clouds
Lie the dilapidated destination
Of a poor homeless rebel,
Victimized unmercifully to fall
Like a drop of rain waited long!
There is a burning sand,
Perforating his bootless heels
With each prick eat up and engulf
The rest of blood from his dry veins
And does challenge his undanted will
Not to subdue and fall in subjugation
Before the sway of mighty domination.
He stays unabated in his determination,
With every sigh sobbed and blubbered,
Every sweat evaporated from his flesh
And every voice raised like Rustum's war cry
That shall crumble down powerfull states
And teaches the lessons of sufference to the foe.
Bamused of searching for pearch,
Where there is no despondency,
To find saint in living.
The more i search,
The more bootless i found.
My heart became lonely,
Depression follows my path,
Courage became tedious to divulge,
Being my only sterling grants,
I became pessimistic.
Wandering around irrationally,
I met a charming Angel.
Bosom with beauty, and
Glowing like diamond.
Hmm! An Angel from heaven.
My hormones arose,
Hope seems to be back,
Courage seems to be summoned,
Depression seems to evacuate,
But, loneliness proves stubborn.
The angel sanitizes my heart,
And quarantine my emotions.
The Covid of my life,
As the beauty surpasses 19.
Wow! My eternity virus.
Her refusal locked me down,
And placed in isolation of love pandemic,
For weeks.
Loneliness proves stubborn,
My greatest grants.
Who have i offended?
And placed in Excruciation.
My love in pending .
Days, months and years,
Adoring you, will be my coach.
Alimi Abdulkabir's poetry.
Standing on the mountain of Kilimanjaro,
Enduring hardship for centuries,
Forcefully uprooted from Savannah,
And crying for the moribund race.
Remembering the bootless slavery,
Discourteously displaced and separated from loved ones.
Instill in us, disdain and dishonor.
Many dreams crumbled,
Hmm! Dreams were traded like commodities,
Rights, trampled upon,
Lower classes, made labourers and creators of wealth for the upper classes and the Europeans.
Savannah, enslaved and then colonized,
Colonized, and then left devastated,
With dreams on the journey of no return.
Savannah! Savannah!
Brass are now fraudsters,
Embezzling without queries.
Forgetting their promises to the electorate.
Hmm! What a cruel Savannah.
Savannah's ancestors, watching in disgust,
And their laid efforts, sleeveless.
The ancestral land is dying.
The brasses forgetting the D day,
Where their wealth will be useless.
I wept furiously,
From today till tomorrow,
Savannah's misfortunes are unlimited to embark on.
Savannah, the great PARADISE for the GRENDEL.
Alimi Abdulkabir's Poetry
I longed for a love pure as driven snow
and fresh as spring 'ere Youth's brief joys succumb;
but a love never transpired; and, although
denied, I carried on to life's autumn.
A maid, princess, or queen have I never
loved or with an ardent nymph passion-proved
lust's all-consuming fire; deprived forever,
I disavowed former hopes for a beloved.
So, thenceforth unblemished and innocent,
without sin and virtuous from west to east,
I surrendered my youth's prurient bent
and forswore my lusts to dwell as a priest.
Now old and bootless, I ne'er knew desire;
or pierced the flower of a maid on fire.
I longed for a love pure like driven snow,
untouched and vestal in the spring years to come;
the years came, and were gone until my woe
over love now lost filled my present autumn.
Virgin, and never a princess have I met,
or rustic maid with whom to spend a night;
I dwelled in solitude with great regret,
for Eros and young love were not my right.
Still young and fresh, and naïve and innocent,
stained by concupiscence ever the least,
I cast'd aside my youth's indecent bent;
and lived my life as if I were a priest.
Now old and bootless, without lust's searing fire,
I've never pierced the tunnel of desire.
she sniffled
into a
tissue
saying
she was
cold
my tongue
tip touch of
her forehead
felt hot
so to stop
future coughs
rubbing
crushed
mustard and
garlic on her
chest
marinating
while making
two separate
pots of tea
one which is
ginger mint and
honey
the other
valarian
root the
smell of
a boiling
bootless
sock
she will
drink so
that
she will
sleep
while i
watch
over
her
in my
heart
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