When mom raised her voice
We silence and lowered our
Own conversation.
Beautiful, Shining Dawn
Thunderous, Sparkling Day
Awaking Birds from their Slumbs
Energising wings
Chirpling Claws
Glorifying gods.
A soul walk up on the surface
Cheering and Happily living on the surface of the Universe
Daring and Designing best momentum with Dreams
Aspiring for Memories.
Memories for What?
A Memory that hold the true definition of Kind and its Man
A Memory well filled with Solutions to the Complications
A Memory of Love and Ambition
"Memory that brings no one but there are other parties paying to the destruction of its existence"
From all the Struggle and Determination there comes Success in Imagination
Working fervently
Serving with Might
Sacrifing with Joy, Tears, Goosebumps, Agonies and Pains
Protecting others colour neglecting one's body
Confident Peace subjugating to tremendous Anarchy.
Drowning and Losing takes over the Winning
Death raises flag for the Living.
There comes the night
Shivering and Partying
Sleeping under the influence of other day to be seen as a sign of Golden era, sweet milk and great disciplinarian despite been swimming in Lust and Lost.
Drown
Catch 22 was fiction
Appealing to a humour like mine
But there was nothing very funny
About Section 69.
The army ran on regulations.
Obey them and you'd be fine
But, beware of that ubiquitous
Queens Regs Section 69.
Devised for situations
Where no others would fit
It took daring luck and skill
To wriggle out from under it.
If they wanted to get you
And couldn't find a way
Section 69
Was brought into play.
Conduct Detrimental,
Which was never defined,
Conduct Unbecoming,
All under Section 69.
A face that didn't fit,
A body deemed too tall,
It didn't really matter
69 covered all.
Two left feet,
A big hairy nose,
Sticky out big ears,
Yes it covered all those.
Every single squaddie
At sometime would meet
That fanatic disciplinarian
With his blank charge sheet.
The only defence really
Was to outrageously lie
if the CO was in good mood
It might just get you by.
So many situations
That were hard to define
But in the end there was always
Good old Section 69.
Catch 22 was fiction
Appealing to a humour like mine
But there was nothing very funny
About Section 69.
The school child not in it clad
To end up ‘Not Glad’:
A sure vexing of his body with whip
And final nursing of an inflamed hip …
Also, a barbaric conversion into laborer
Which makes his Disciplinarian A torturer…
The school’s spear grasses to down mow
And her refuse dumps in trucks tow.
Still a freezing interview to face,
Interviewers’ final finding “A Purposed Disgrace”
For a child could a launderer grab in time
To avoid The Unwashed School Uniform Crime …
The Pardoned upon a second default
To be shown his waiting vault.
Sulfuric acid
Contact lenses blinded
As my eye see it's not
Pupils dilated as my spinal cord
Begins to rot
Skeletal remains where is my brains I haven't been chopped
Gordon Ramsay reminds me what's all the fussing and yelling about
Is it problematic would it be ever so this plan on it Disciplinarian
Vegetarian
and where are the way ward zombies
They want to kill and eat me this is the apocalypse
Where's my face and who stole my lips
Nevermore ravished
I can no longer kiss
Cannibal common human toast remains
zombies eating every part of me even my brains
This is the death
My last breath
The Horror Story
It's so boring
And gory I travail
I relish
I am just
Decayed flesh
Served on top-of a hay stack
Where is the ketchup in the mustard
Shed no grief for me
They dun are my feet
Make it so squiggly Wiggly screaming" where's the beef"
4/26/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
Squickleby Pickleby
Nicholas Nickleby
loses his Father and
feels quite forlorn.
Ralph his tight uncle a
disciplinarian
mean to the marrow
regards him with scorn.
Nicholas, penniless
uncompromisingly
works as a master where
boys take the flack.
Nickleby fears for the
safety of orphans there
rescues a cripple and
never looks back.
Granted this ending is
unsatisfactory
Dickens had plenty more
meat to this tale.
So to all readers I
send my apologies;
These double dactyls are
tricky travail.
01.01.2021
Based on the novel 'Nicholas Nickleby' by Charles Dickens
Double Dactyl (Win For Paid Membership) Poetry Contest
Sponsor : William Kekaula
Of the passing
of a loved one
a faint reaction
and this satisfaction
thoughts of loneliness
and in their memorial mother
Mama gone back home to God
In memorial mama
I can't never forget you
Mine nurture a savior the disciplinarian for my i l l behavior
I miss ya mama
12/26/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
IF RELIGION WAS MORE PERSONAL THEN SELECTIVE
MORE INTERACTIVE THEN DISCIPLINARIAN
WE'D HAVE LESS GUILTY SINNERS AND MORE ASPIRING SAINTS
IF RELIGION WOULD NOT DICTATE THE CONDITION OF THE SOUL
IN AS MUCH AS THE LEGACY OF HIS CHRISTLY LOVE,
WE'D BE LESS JUDGEMENTAL OF EACH OTHER
AND MORE LIKE SISTERS AND BROTHERS "IN CHRIST"
Simple conversation between the wife and
her husband, both are nonagenarian;
Will you agree with me when I 'll .....
See you've two options. First, with the offer stunned,
can't say what to do with the criterion;
and abide silently; second is ....
I'll go for second option.......not to be shunned,
enjoyed enough, let's take libertarian
approach why to dispute at this stage.....
Probably, like else I'll miss your golden tongued
wisdom which made me disciplinarian;
Maybe but not felt while pillow talk ......
~X~X~X~
Vembadi, my Alma Mater
On day one, I stepped into school tearfully,
In school uniform, clutching my bag nervously.
Miss Barker appeared! I gazed at her fearfully,
Her foreign face scared the native lass tremendously!
Miss Barker, the disciplinarian, and her walk daily
From Lower to Upper School, we’ll never forget.
The great lady, with her methodical ways,
Our last foreign head, guided our school skilfully!
We learnt to read, write and count effortlessly,
But faced tests and exams anxiously.
We took part in sports and games snappily;
At break times I ran out with friends happily!
Miss Mabel Thambiah, our first national Principal,
Succeeded Miss Barker calmly and unflappably.
She steered the school at all times marvellously,
Specially in the turbulent takeover years!
Our teachers worked so painstakingly!
With improved knowledge and manners, we prayed daily.
The years flew by, our schooling ended quietly,
And I stepped out, at seventeen, gallantly!
Electricity charged the air
Sounds of thunder rolled
Silence of the night dispelled
The storm takes sleep's toll
Hairy tried to bark the thunder
Away, sleep only left
After a sleepless night
My brain seems very deft
A dog trainer he needs or maybe
A disciplinarian
Love has not fixed his problems
He's quite the barbarian
Without you
Another Mother's Day without you...
Definitely easier than the first.
But really,
could it have gotten any worse?
Without your sweet voice...
Without your kind words...
Without you...
Mother turned disciplinarian
Disciplinarian turned friend
Stiff stature, but willing to bend.
Always with a hand to extend
Always willing to make amends
Always willing to commend.
Now and especially then,
Mama, Mother, Mom, Granny...
You are & always were a godsend.
And, I don't know if I ever told you that.
The Good Lord knows,
That I wish that I had.
Sooooo....
I did the things that you did,
I said the things you said,
And I walked around all day,
with your sweet voice inside my head.
And, I created things
that I know you would've loved!
But....it wasn't enough,
Because it wasn't you...
What else could I do?
What more could I say?
It's hard to be a girl...
Motherless on Mother's Day.
And like every other day,
I walked around,
with your sweet voice
inside my head, it's true.
This is my life.
My life...
Without you.
Grandpa so full of love and warmth
Grandpa so full of wisdom and knowledge
Grandpa so full of yes white hair on your crown
Grandpa so full of care always brought me fruits
Bob we loved to call you and we loved you
Many a times your tongue spewing wisdom
We delighted in you we flourished with you
Grandpa i knew you well you were a judge
A judge in the traditional sense spewing wisdom
Not a judge of corridors of power and huge crest
A judge bound by honor and oath to rule justly
Grandpa we knew you as a strict disciplinarian
You are gone it's a decade plus a handful of years
Yet forever you are deeply cherished in our hearts
At the banks of Gihon you turned and looked back
A wise appraisal for the future you had oh Judge
CODE
Lewis K. Nyaga
A DEDICATION TO BOB
His wrinkles on face,
A crack on his tooth
He remembers too well
The glimpse of his youth
The fiery passion
His sweltering desires
He’s a scout leader
Everyone admires…
He’s a disciplinarian
Few don’t understand
But it all makes sense
Accord to his plans
His young dreams
I see as sun rises
But will he remember
The smiles on our faces?
Angela Merkel
I have seen Angela Merkel naked it was on a nude beach
in East Germany and she was a young communist
member of the party, the only way one had to go if not
being stuck in a factory job. Angela back then had
a rounded body not quite Ruben but a body that had in
had the frame of a middle-class Germanic sexuality.
She had by then staked her political future and she had
no time for suitors which belonged to no party?
And she did right when East Germany went into freefall
she was there taking note and agreeing with the west.
But Merkel is history less, she has disregarded her past
yet her socialism instinct must give her sleepless nights
Greece cannot be bought by German Marks and they are
not disciplinarian by nature that can be cured by
a bracing North Sea beach.
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