To disrobe the lion’s ego,
would be to destroy a charismatic higher light
dethrone a regal rightous dominance
denounce a fierce protective energy
with pride of a warrior, never repudiate royalty
forswear fealty is to renounce a king of truth
whilst in his den, uncloaked he and his lioness
of regal virtue, love eternal and loyalty
when you engage with ultimate hierarchy,
roars of authority warn and ward risk taking rivals
with gifted instincts, a supreme stubborn strength
and a keen bond and respect for his own
an affectionate and generous warmth
confident yet cautious in their garden of Eden
defeatist disrobes the ego, only when defeated
deep within the soul, we yearn for substance
a spiritual substance sustaining us
the creature sustains as messenger
deeper significance beyond physical form
depicting qualities from the universe
butterflies symbolize transformation,
the turtle patience, the elephant a mighty sooth,
the lion links divine wisdom and perceives truth
Today I shall write a unique sonnet,
Only, I know not what to write about.
Shall I place my affections upon it?
An Ozymandias-styled denounce?
And the rhyme, Petrarchan, no… Oh, I know,
I think I prefer Shakespearean more.
Ah, but what is this? I can go alone?
Like ABAA, devising my own?
Even weirder, I’ll end it here–
With eight syllables, too–then disappear.
My nightmares quench their thirst in the bowels of misery,
To silence the pains of my color, my fears denounce death.
I will end in the shadowed silence of a dilapidated cemetery,
Yet I chase the glory of these fleeting vanities built on thrones of dust.
My wounds torment me before the flattery of these bloodthirsty scavengers,
I anesthetize my demons with the hard drugs of my ordeal,
It is suffering that grants me the clearest insight.
I hunt immortality in an ocean of transgressions.
I am a freedom-drunk guerrilla; to be a slave is a curse.
My scars tell the penitence of my blessings.
The devil swore me loyalty, yet he already bore the taste of betrayal.
Since then, I walk alone through the ruins of my hell, with desolation as my only home.
I adore the darkness; it whispers what light ignores.
In the sweetness of terror, I found a refuge the world demonizes.
I do not fear dying, but living in the cramped confines of a morbid existence.
I drag my coffin along the highway of dissent, pockets full of nails.
The angel of death lashes my traumatized soul with the cowardice of suicide.
They call you mad if you dare act too rough,
then call you weak if you’re not tough enough,
do not care much when we receive good news,
but flock like locusts when someone is screwed.
The claim to hold our leaders to account,
but only one party will they ever denounce.
They interview, claiming truth is their goal,
then cut it up, to smear you and to scold.
They claim that they must go speak with all sides,
but then only reprint a tyrant’s lies,
show endless contempt for their own nation,
yet whine when facing recriminations.
They strut about like they’re some privileged class,
but their high words get debunked rather fast,
say ‘objectivity’ like it’s a shield,
yet preach narratives, rather then what’s real.
Think we should trust only folks with bylines,
when internet proves them wrong every time.
They misinform, those useless, lying hacks,
I wonder if we can bring the stocks back…
I cannot remember the exact day
Though it wasn't that long ago to note
When I get home to tighten up my say
Like I wouldn't have said that rote
But I haven't been able to change it
Slippery airstream brings it without permit
Teach my tongue
Not always the usual song
When unseen is not able
Let hearty praises be stable
Story may not win hearts
Words are very core to arts
What inspirations sought
Define what minds fought
But often, muses are ÀBÍKÚ
Though words remain àìkú
Teach my words ever young
To never be old unsung
When light heals quickly, time
Let darkness dare its worth to the prime
Hero don't just fight
To show his might
But for a dream
Beyond self-esteem
To redeem his call
Even it takes him to fall
Teach my nozzle
Firing and causal
To view in smell
The aroma heaven shell
A newborn; I a newborn
Everyday's cool wordsbourne
Whose stories are often reared
In blissful nature's style sneered
For body to feed into mind for soul
Allowing new character be made whole
Teach me to use
Not only to deduce
By tongue to also pronounce
And authoritatively do denounce
These weak attempts at verse could not be droller.
Your stuff is less inviting than ebola
(but not as catchy). Wordier than Emil Zola,
you haven’t got the steam to be a roller.
I’ve seen more cutting-edge in Pepsi-Cola.
You clearly honed your style in Fuengirola.
About as challenging as last year’s “¡Hola!”
(I’m sure you’re highly thought of in Angola.)
But that aside, I need a favour, mate.
The flood of would-be Shakespeares is in spate.
I’d like you to review – that is, donate
your time and talent (at the going-rate,
which happens to be zero.) Desecrate
the pricks who prattle, and the prigs who prate.
Denounce, detract. Indulge that gelding hate
that wells in all of us. The cut-off date
is looming, so get hacking. Don’t be late!
(Immediately after being found "guilty"
of denying that the earth was stationary
and the sun orbited around it, Galileo
said, "Eppur si muove!" [But it moves!])
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
they chant-and they chant
but do they know the words true meaning?
they wear the colours that show their support
but do they know what these colours represent?
they wave their flags but not of their own
some may say this is an act of treason?
the words they chant are against a certain ideology-
but it's that ideology that gives them freedom.
they say they are for free speech
but if you disagree...?
they say you are free to express your opinions-
but when you do, and its opposite to theirs, they condemn.
they say they are for all fellow man
but if you go against their narrative, you are not human.
they say they are against racism-
but their words incite racist acts.
they say they are for love and peace-
but never denounce a violent group?
they condemn the brutality of their nemesis-
but are silent when their ally does the same.
they say they have it all worked out-
but have they lived life yet?
They shout ‘Not in my name’
as if for Israel’s self-defense
they were to blame
They scream ‘Globalize the Intifada’
as if their voices ever mattered
They chant ‘Palestine will be ‘free’
from the River to the Sea
without a clue as to what that means
They denounce the IDF from their comfortable American homes
allege Al-Jazeera-reported ‘Israeli atrocities’ in vulgar poems
They are ‘Peace Now,’ ‘J Street,’ ‘progressive’ Jews ~
whom the Mullahs aim to slaughter when they so choose
Be a good man for God.
Bury all the bad things,
Regret and forget the past.
Being good, pleases God.
Be careful on muddy ground.
Leave quietly, don't entangle,
Run away and don't look back.
Live with a clothes not sin,
Denounce darkness in prayer.
Keep willful spirit strong.
Help others to do the same.
Enlighten your mind freely,
Follow the Gospel of Light.
History is no mystery
Unless you were born
A descendant of scorned
African tradesmen and tradeswomen
Stolen from their lives
Of husband wives
Children and wise old ones
Whose brown skin kissed by sun
We lived with the lies
In the shadow of cries
To get over it let it die
The nerve of you guys
No one says get over the Holocaust
For us sympathy and empathy is lost
Still we will live with forever chained
To ancestors genetically despite vain
Attempt to erase their worth
Denounce their struggle
To even pray their own way
For you drug them to church
To read bibles that glorified you
Tribalism prohibited and refused
To Allah God you must explain your “truth”
Injustice, a tale as old as time,
Echoes through the ages, a perpetual crime.
From Amos' scriptural cry to traditional Ifa's call,
The holy Quran and Bible, too, denounce injustice's thrall.
Yet, why do people struggle to uphold what's right?
The wealthy steal millions, but negotiate their plight.
No punishment, no sentence, just a slap on the wrist,
While the poor, with nothing to offer, are crushed, and their lives, dismissed.
In African lands, innocent souls are jailed each day,
Their freedom, a luxury, they cannot afford to pay.
A young man's fate, a stark reminder of this cruel plight,
Sentenced to death for stealing a fowl, 14 years of endless night.
His parents, worn by grief, their hearts, a heavy burden bear,
Their son, a victim of injustice, with no one to care.
How did we sink so low? Who'll rise to right this wrong?
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the poor must unite, and be strong.
United, they can challenge the predators in human disguise,
And fight against injustice, with a collective, courageous cry.
Bing informative
the SCHWA sound
become the topic of the day
Dipithong, Dipithong
ooh, ooh wee!
Schwa:schwa!
the Schwa sound
the schwa sound is destroying me.
T notch filters.
Try to spook the others
they used unsafe tactics
that caused people
to boo and jeer.
The Schaw sound
shall maketh him
smarter
then he will never be in need
of these types of Chanagans.
Speakest Lammbeeria the Whorish Harlot of Dikkinism
Larghissimo!!!!!
that he shall streess in labor and shall be
poorest in Dipipothong. His streesses shall cause him the error
such oppurtunies shall allow others to have me as I am a whore.
Than pregant I shall say to him.
You'didist and now you must largemente with money. If this is real and I have no secrets. Denounce me that we have prominated on the shores of the Creeks and the ponds have feed us with fishes.
Drought the earthen shell fish-pow'da-pow-da, pow--dah !!!!!
grind the snouts to pow-dah!!!
Spoke the whorish harlot!!!!
How dare they take the words from
Your mouth and the nails from
Your hands
and pass them off as from
their own flesh and blood.
They, who never bled a single drop in the name of others,
have crafted a halo of thorns
and adorn it,
”holy”
(self indulgent, self proclaimed).
What gives them the right
to denounce their equals
and lash the whip over their neighbor’s back?
Don’t they know that every drop of Your blood that touched the earth
sowed seeds of ceaseless forgiveness?
That every splatter ricocheted off the dirt
and echoed the promise “I love you”?
Holy? Wholly?
They know nothing of Your word;
they only twist it to tighten chains
they bind around the black sheep.
Little do they know their wool,
once white in Your hands,
is stained dark as sin.
How dare they take the words from
Your mouth and the nails from
Your hands
and pass them off as from
their own flesh and blood.
They, who never bled a single drop in the name of others,
have crafted a halo of thorns
and adorn it,
”holy”
(self indulgent, self proclaimed).
What gives them the right
to denounce their equals
and lash the whip over their neighbor’s back?
Don’t they know that every drop of Your blood that touched the earth
sowed seeds of ceaseless forgiveness?
That every splatter ricocheted off the dirt
and echoed the promise “I love you”?
Holy? Wholly?
They know nothing of Your word;
they only twist it to tighten chains
they bind around the black sheep.
Little do they know their wool,
once white in Your hands,
is stained dark as sin.
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