For me
religion must have a solemnity,
a heft like towering cliffs, places
of silence and the majesty of sunsets.
Religion must be big enough to hold
vast forests, extend beyond
the furthest galaxy and yet be small
enough to fit inside a seed.
For me
religion must have a veil of mystery
like clouds that conceal a mountain's
height, like music that moves the soul
without the listener knowing why
and the sublime in poetry.
Religion must be kind and caring
and contain something greater
than the self.
For me,
religion must not divide
or promise life through exclusivity,
but be a way of making whole
and to give thanks for creation
to whatever or whoever
you believe that to be.
This
Is and is not
About inclusivity
Or exclusivity..
Yet these words
Seem to pop up
To attempt to
Bring clarity to
This..alas there
Is no clarity
Or non-clarity of
This...
I am weary of politics,
its plastic people
and the endless lies,
the glorification
of the outrageous antics
of the rich and famous,
the intolerance
and exclusivity preached
by most religions,
sensationalist media
who seek to deceive
and divide for the sole
purpose of ratings.
I am tired of excuses
and the way in which
honest people are exploited,
the power of big corporations
and angered by the mistreatment
of our planet. I am sick
of the promises made
by a world addicted to wealth
and the necessity to own
the latest must have gadget
and the modernist doctrine
of the primacy of the “self”.
We have lost our way
by abandoning the sacred,
the soulful connection
to the earth and what lay
beyond. My old and perhaps
naive mind imagines an ideal
where the world and life is not
configured to serve our most
unholy needs
but to those that will lift us
towards the greater good.
A One Off Concept
as Tends to happen
casting to be
announced
a institutional concept
emotion exclusivity
concepts of revivalry
quality needs not to be
negotiated
Neglecting the needs of
your consumer base
undermines your effectiveness
pre production is successful
at the post production fade
Brand recognition offers
satisfaction
Production within the bounds of
creation
allows the functioning production machine
to keep the momentum of production
sweet little one
so tiny
dear
and
precious
a sleeping beauty
a mother’s pride
in premium exclusivity
a ticking mystery
the single aunt’s enigma
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on February 24, 2020
My Darling,
My Love,
My Everything,
This is Number One Hundred.
I told you that I’d reach it, and I have.
This will be a long one,
But I hope it says everything it needs to,
I hope ink lands quicker than tears.
This whole century of writing is for you,
You own every penny in this poetic pound,
So at this literary boiling point,
I want you to know
That a century is just the start; I’ll write for you for millennia to come.
That a pound is small change; I want to make you rich.
That Hell, high water, hot water, can do their worst; this love will endure.
This is the truth that all can see,
But only you will ever know,
Will ever truly know,
The eternal honesty I write about.
And these numbers:
126
1071
8
25
17
100
Only mean anything to you and I and us alone.
Love in numerical exclusivity.
Let me count the ways…
You may be one man, but one is all that this one needs,
Or maybe even just a half, as long as you have half of me.
So know that this is a milestone,
A reminder of what’s yet to come,
A promise for longevity,
A poem for you to read and believe,
A poem for you.
Number One Hundred.
You have my heart, and
I love you.
Time is of the essence when playing
The field is wide open to the opportunist
Love is an engine fueled by lust
Many eggs remain unhatched, untouched
Undamaged by the trust you bring
There is no deposit no return on virgins
There is only one woman in the world
That one opportunity for you
Intimacy is a dream elixir
Exclusively designed with you in mind
I trust you will find her before time runs out
Before the opportunist takes her away
Makes her one of the many merry
Perverts the purity that once was yours alone
The one and only touched by no one
I yearned for the shift.
Requested a window seat and everything.
was given one on the trip back.
the frequencies took a while to link up but they soon met.
But did he see her?
Does he really know who she is?
Has he eaten her meat down to the bone so thoroughly that he can scrape her bone marrow out
He has warned about the depths of his grasping love.
her soul flies free like a willow tree
Exclusivity is his final Vision, but her dreams at night are
full of poly, infinite hearts
I usually drink "tears for breakfast"
So not really sure whats happening, a sensitive soul has captured me
and it feels...right....right?
WORD FOR TODAY: COPYRIGHT
Never make a business decision because a Partner is FORTHRIGHT
Ensure that all the right boxes tick; and the conditions are ALRIGHT
It is not wise to claim exclusivity of an idea because of BIRTHRIGHT
Ensure you talk to the experts, especially in the areas of COPYRIGHT
Such matters are delicate and are not related to any HUMAN-RIGHT
Pirates are merciless; selfish; vision killers; anything but UPRIGHT
© Wole Popoola 2016
Manifestation.
expressions stifled by futile ambiguity;
banal faces crushed by oppression.
truth blind and no scent of levity;
sleep while in cold repression.
wake to the noise of longevity;
time smiles on and on in suppression.
bright colours to shift loyalty;
or words to give question.
illumination renders lucidity;
or a darkness of depiction.
envelop me with exclusivity;
cast asunder no heaven.
deranged aggression literally;
manifestation upon manifestation.
She's aware he's awfully chivalrous for carrying such casual intent
While there's subconscious recognition he's a blend of canny ways
Mixed with filthy desire
Leaving her plenty of room for discontent
His finicky facade that this helpless girl can't help but admire
While to herself she's being a liar
As if she could deny this mans selfish pursuance
Her misinterpretations are inevitable
A genitive surefire
He'll maintain his obvious avoidance for exclusivity
She'll claim to have been perpetually blinded by his witty ways
As she induced her own misfire
Those eyes of his will misconstrue
Betting on the fact she'll negate her own savvy finesse
That self proclaimed ability to see through
Inevitably he'll be praised and built up as a statue
Like his soul
He'll be mended of stone
While in the interim
She'll be gazing pitifully
Into shades of blue
Each species has its tools
to do what it can to ensure
its own survival.
We, try our best to
separate,
and say we are not
the same.
We pick a trait to denote
our exclusivity.
Other species prove
their relativity.
Once it was tools
and to our chagrin
we found they all
were using them
and so we redrew
the line.
Language is what
we are good at
until we found
that dog and cats,
parrots and dolphins,
chimps and all manner
of beasties with tales
or not had their own
tales to tell.
What's left for us
to claim as our
special trait?
I vote for
self delusion.
It seems to us
unique.
We murder and convince ourselves
it is for peace.
We raise boys to be killers and then
pretend surprise
when they are.
We foster hate among each other
and pretend
it is not really happening.
We enslave each other
and claim
to believe in freedom.
We pretend concern for
all mankind,
yet make sure that
few succeed.
Yes, I think in all these things,
the animal, we far exceed
SOVIET SEX
An old professor, communist and wed,
Had recently been rather emotive:
Turned to his wife one night in their big bed -
I think our love arrangement’s inactive.
I’m sorry if I seem to be restive
But single-spouse is bourgeois, usual.
We should perhaps live in a collective:
No exclusivity residual !
There’s a pretty nurse at the hospital
Who wants to live in with us, (I mean me).
Yes, I think you might like living with Sal :
And our bed is big enough for all three.
Yes, says wife, but bed’s big enough for four:
So let’s include her young husband Igor.
He had everything in private exclusivity.
Far from the maddening joyous crowd,
On the common deck,
When day slipped into night,
He could not know,
Because in his suite it was always day,
Suddenly he felt a large shake,
And dropped the expensive glass of champagne,
The crew did not even have the time,
To reach his place,
The storm had hit and hit bad,
It had broken the ship in two,
As the grounded lightening made it more bad,
The ship broke exactly where his suite lay,
He was inundated at the very first,
Soon ship sank,
And so did his vanity,
He had bequeathed,
His entire estate to his son,
Who years later,
Boarded the same cruise with as much vanity,
The day is awaited when his stock of vanity would be over,
And the ship will sink yet again all over.