Ideal citizens, you.
Dreamed-of private individuals,
With villas and servants.
Feasts, travels, lavish meals,
And drugs at the disposal of life.
Bravery is tiring,
Easier is indulgence,
Though it does not fill the belly.
With luxury you melt in saunas,
With androgyne butterflies.
And then, in the mighty air-conditioned
halls of Sodom,
you offer your seed
to Sterfos,
the tunnelled demigod.
I levitated from the lions den
I rose to the sky with a golden crown
covered in emeralds and diamonds on my head
Now it's time to take back what's mine ! I said with fury
Another beautiful day! everything that could've killed me
I overcame, I am proud to still be standing
Grateful for every second and hour of my 24
because in a tale as old as time there was an eight year old girl
who fought depression, bullying and Life itself
that was as bright as Star, with the might! of a demigod
written in legend, she was the prophecy of the doom of once was called order.
She was a rude awakening to mankind, she had an eye of a tiger.
Take one demigod from the melting pot
Give it a Mega-phone (the louder the better)
Mix in a heavy dose of Fox News, make it a bit overbearing
In a separate pot,
mix 70 million evangelicals
2 or 3 million fanatics -depending on your tolerance
Season with lies and fear
Add holy water, a couple of cases of Budweiser and demigod mixture
But first clip a piece of ear and discard
sit in the sun until it boils- stirring occasionally
Narcissistic little freak –
The world isn’t meant to like you
There’ll be many parties
Where nobody invites you
Dance around with Mommy,
Dance your TikTok video
Hope you’ve got your bubble-wrap
Hope you don’t plan on a girlfriend
Only child syndrome
Only child syndrome
Only child syndrome
Only child syndrome
That’s what we get for sparing the rod –
A coddled little demigod
Alone in his urine, the whole playroom sogged
One day he’ll command a firing squad
(chorus)
Mama loves you dearly
Grandma does, sincerely
We’re takin’ you out yearly
To get lost in the maze of corn
Go ridin’ on that tractor
Where hay fever is a factor
God bless this child actor
And the day that he was born
To the little machine, that's so hard to clean
And sits alone on the shelf,
I'm thankful to you, for that potion you brew
That turns me into myself.
You may be a squatter, but I still give you water
Some grounds and then flip a switch
My steps I retrace, brush teeth, wash face
Come back and drink 'til I twitch
You're always ready, you drip so steady
And that smell is heaven sent.
You always work quiet and help with my diet,
My hunger you circumvent.
I have heard you stutter, sometimes spit and sputter
But in truth, that's all on me
If I do my part, then simply push start
Then you do the rest for free.
You start everyday helping me find my way
As I wake in my early brain fog
Then at noon, then night, you continuously delight
You're my hero, my silent demigod
Life wasn't the same before you came
I just couldn't seem to wake up
So here's to you and all that you do
A Toast! Hang on, let me fill my cup.
Daniel Turner
2/22/23
I never intended to be God
verity not demigod
I don't wish to be anything else
than to be myself
When one's soul is filled with divine inspiration he is elevated to a demigod's status!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 May 2022
Salvation of hollow-burrow, spaceful for life,
hiding and appearing engaged that day.
Seven Sleepers, unwanted companions,
pardoners, neither demigod-cyborg nor god.
Peaceful in retreat of folding nocturnal-diurnal.
Contemplation bleached the sinners,
restraining lust, abstinence for circular bell tolls.
The Cavern's Sleepers,
Sophia of hibernation,
tapa Barata.
Gliding through the night's darkest heart.
Racing at the edge of our understanding..
Real images die in fading shafts
of an on coming headlight.
Rushing headlong into Oblivion
Misty spirit's cling to every lamppost.
Reality is undefined...
Fading infinity.
Surreal landscape of ...
Strange patterns.
Dance the at the corners of my eyes.
Engulfing a city full of sparkling light.
Deep in wet gray vapor like some ancient demigod
Another world embraces it intimately.
Light breaks and fractures..
As it dapples through skeletal trees,
Rays of car headlights rush forward:
Reclaiming the real.
Moving definitely..
Homeward Bound..
I ride.
A silhouette is carved from refracted light...
A play of Shadows?
A dance of Ghosts?
or was it in my mind?
As I glide into the inner void;
At the zenith of a misty night.
Near the edge of my sight..
I race to the rim of nothingness.
I feel a creature of murky ink watching me...
Waiting in a crowed province; full of murky
Phantasm's... wanting...Something?
Clinging to my reflection.
the naughty rascal of Naples has died
he was the greatest football player in history
a timeless icon
and although he was a flawed human
he is venerated like a demigod
people took to the streets to mourn his passing
weeping and throwing kisses at his 20 foot mural
a piece of Naples has died forever they shout
Naples is crying we lost our angel
grown men on their knees
Diego was born into poverty
but the gift of a football at age three
changed his destiny
and although his estate is huge
he died cash poor
for he was generous and easily tricked
his journey was complicated with
cocaine and drinking addiction
mafia connections
known for violent outbursts
yet with a stature godlike
thousand mourn
as he is laid to rest
_____________________________
November 29, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Diego Armando Maradona
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1308-287-29
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Maradona Obituary
sponsor, Mohan Chutani, Judged 12/26/20
First Place
It started on D - flat,
succulent & succinct
soft & rhythmic
loaning hearts pats.
the wail of the piano
caressing the voices' glissando
riffs tampered with the tune,
notes trailing tracks of crest,
demisemiquaver pruned
by the demigod crochet:
parts of belts
accompanying baritone,
baroque & tormenting bass
nursing decrescendo,
an atlas
And then clef,
embellishing the melody,
encore spill the best,
swift fortemente
Hearts lured,
esophagus of the musician
shifting. Pure
steps moving in pleasure,
as the lyrics complimented
the melody
A coda:
a flat accompaniment
severed the passion
as the keys & notes did melt
tumult in rhythm,
sundry languages inflected
the lyrics.
like concerto grosso
of courante on
bagpipes, accordion,
harps, obeos & paino.
now we're stuck
in the maze of this music,
no virtuoso could make meaning of
the tune, lyrics or melody
but we're moving our bodies,
till those that gets weary
goes to hear death's string.
19:09:22:18:47
As the blazing king from far eastern horizons
Glows and smiles on wee infant toils beneath,
He's by man's ever-sprawling greeting praised,
Basking in vast kudos by eyes and bared teeth.
The new sovereign savors every regal sign
As he arcs past the virgin noon's latent line,
Unwilling to pause despite cloud-born snags,
Undeterred by jealous dusk's advancing tags.
Against evening's envies moves that demigod,
Still unshaken by all enemy barriers miles high.
Into puffed twilight barricades he finally sinks,
And once-lauding eyes dim as doom taps nigh.
Like our gloom-deposed emperor here-above
Is each offspring born of mortals' carnal love.
Salutes of great joy hail them once they come,
And rise beyond midday into life's ebbing term.
When time's long-halted scythes finally strike,
Men's veiled flattery's replaced by cold dislike.
The stream of music
Has in it an instrument
Talking beats, not singing,
And sending legs into a frenzy
The hook of a Demigod
Knocking the round bald head
Of the talkative
As it yelps in pain
The hook romantically patting
The head of a voluptuous woman
Shaped as an hourglass
To listen to her talk
Locked in the arms of its betrothed
Like a gem to be protected,
Its ropes are fondled with
To produce sweet notes
Beautiful yet deadly
For it could pass messages
Across the halls of Boruya
As Nobles dance to their death.
My heart,
a place of solitude,
my place of worship,
a place of pleasure,
place of leisure,
treasure of love,
where God resides,
my happy place,
hidden within.
At this sanctuary,
not all is allowed to enter,
only the admitted few,
selective admittance is permitted.
The world,
my whole life,
my struggles,
my joy,
pains of my inner fear is experienced here.
The beauty of man is carried there,
like the moon with its two sides,
the ugliness of the dark side
of man is hidden there.
This heart of man,
who can know it?
With its complicated complexities,
the heart of man is carried with dignity,
full of grace, vigour and beauty,
though mixed with greed,
there is also a taste of
emotions of hate,
and unimaginable unfathomable
touch of wickedness.
It requires the alchemical fire of the divine light to purify it so that man can be metamorphosed into a demigod,
become that sun of righteousness,
where the true love abound.
Strive to reconfigure your heart,
make it a grandeur irreproachable portal where innumerable company of angels dwells.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Paltry poetic presidential prattlings on poultry playing
cockalorums chasing chickens, censured to castigate the cockerals,
tricky tray turbo turkey tidbits tentanize the titillations;
wild wispy winds whisper worldly wasted wiry winsome wiles
dancing delights deluding delicate demigod domiciles,
twittering tweets teasing tenacious tantalizing tongue twisters
residing riddled rattled ransom rasping revolving roars,
minority middle men meltdown midst macrocosmic mayhem
Washington's wonderland weeps wreckage within waiting walls.
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