Two roads diverged as they often do
and at the fork a skeleton lay -
a traveller who stood and thought it through;
as around his feet the bindweed grew.
He stayed too long to choose a way
Seeing both paths equal - foul or fair -
I wonder how his thinking went
that had him starved and rooted there;
caught in vacillation’s snare
until his life was vainly spent.
We may say this fool deserved to die;
this ignoramus had no wit,
but for God’s grace stay you or I
who do not lack the Lord’s supply;
for decision has faith at the soul of it.
I shall be singing this by and by
somewhere many ages hence:
two roads diverged and it was not I
who made no choice except to die
and thus show God indifference.
The universal yearning to be famous
or heap together masses of monedes
mean zip to me. My id’s an ignoramus.
So own your games of thrones, your maravedis.
Your Florida is Phobos, Denver, Deimos:
your Aspen’s asinine, your Hamptons, Hades.
The rutting writ no longer runs, to tame us:
Pam Blondie you can keep, and likewise ladies
who once manipulated that mandamus -
your Slinky Susies and your Sultry Sadies.
So what remains? It needs no Nostradamus!
The three of us, and Guinness, in O’Grady’s -
my friend and brother, Fighting Irish Seamus:
my little Spanish missus, named Mercedes.
You were a doxy, her grandson said in surprise
She nodded, a Parisian party girl, that ain’t no lie
Kind of a vampy tramp, said his ignoramus cousin Jim
You will get it all now, Grandma said; I leave nothing to him.
Handing me his laptop
my older brother Ray says:
“Hey, look at this!”
The screen goes black
so he mutters:
“What'd y'do now?
Here, give it back.”
He fiddles with something.
My back hears his cold hint from the door -
“Just look at the picture,
DON'T touch the screen.”
But…
I’ve walked away without a word,
thereby leaving his put-down
where it belongs
in his lap.
Took me a long time to learn
I don’t have to listen
to arrogance or condescension.
I’ve learned to put down put-downs
with ease.
Why wait for the name-calling like
"Ignoramus!" Just ignore Ray.
I quietly close the door.
I sit beside myself and think,
And try to evaluate my life;
Yes, my life that is blotted with ink
My life of which evaluation would cause strife.
A strife between the living and the dead,
Between our world and theirs too;
Between the ignoramus and the intellectually well-bred.
A conflict none can describe as new!
I sin and sin again and then realize;
And beyond any doubt, more than twice repent,
Only to go back and iterate the vice,
And thus to my record add a fresh dent.
Lord, I have but a very curious mind,
Some would refer to me as a wandering soul
In the land of wisdom, knowledge and the kind,
But their mysteries and their sins, I am attracted to them all!
Now spare any mercy that you might find
And forgive the sins of my kindly person,
I have not committed the ones that cross the line;
A few lies here and there, but not the dreaded arson.
Now, I sit beside myself and think
And ponder over a future without blemish;
A time when no deed will morally stink,
Where all transgressions will have vanished.
Like cookies by legend Amos
This day's for presidents famous
The resident scoop
On such a small group
Makes us like an ignoramus
Who wants my spell book? Whisker witch asked her grands.
It was a mystical book held together by large rubber bands.
This book was different because it chastised your efforts to create and bake.
Calling you mean names like “loser, ignoramus, and stupid mandrake".
I will take it said her sister, who had grown up with the book.
The witch gave her the most horrible, awful, nastiest look.
The spell book picked up on Whisker witch’s cue.
And began calling her names that turned the air blue.
That’s okay, the sister said, holding back her tears.
As the spell book called gave her a raspberry among the jeers.
One of the grands grabbed it up and threw it into the fire.
Take that! She said, and we all clapped, her bravery glad to admire.
How about when stores jack up their prices
Then reduce them and call it a sale
I've been on to these devious practices for years
Their attempt to bamboozle us has failed
Annoying commercials that treat us like morons
As if we're gonna fall for that stuff
Like if you brush with mint flavoured toothpaste
Your sweetie will greet you in the buff
How about optometrists with really bad breath
As they lean over to adjust that eye thing
More than once I nearly passed out in the chair
Need a sign on the door with a warning
Or when you're at a game with the whole family
And a guy gets drunk and obnoxious
Using every cuss word ever known to mankind
You wish you could muzzle this ignoramus
You pay scads of dough for a vacation down south
And it rains every day of your stay
Your condo smells like the back end of a donkey
A most forgettable vacation I'd say
Well I'm sure most people can relate to these
You probably have a bunch of your own
Should be a service called Pet Peeves Anonymous
Or a help line you could contact by phone
A monk ascends
Then shares wisdom
The ignoramus interpret
Thus a new religion is born
Unless our hearts become porous
We are trapped in lower mind
That is controlled by ego
Senses externalised
Notice that no sage
Followed religious scripture
All they did was to enter silence
Allowing God’s light to permeate form
If we truly wish to recognise the truth
We must meld head with heart
Relinquishing every belief
Becoming the flame
When ego disappears
Only then does God appear
Thus not by doing but in undoing
Do we reclaim what our true essence is
Peace
30-April-2023
unconscious minds abound
impressing upon us their agenda
what can we say to these ignoramus
for they are but dead men walking
who in timeless time will awake
we trauma bond not but simply smile
sharing our love and compassion
respecting their soul journey
in fierce winds of duality
for we too once stood
where they are now
25-April-2023
1/20/23
Continually facing struggles
Remaining puzzled
Going too hard straining muscles
Punks always out making trouble
Many in labs out to clone, attempts at creating doubles
So many shell-shocked
Others being fools while well off
Too many people quick to tell lots
They either say truth or sell crock
Had to change this
Less of the same
It took an occasional lane switch
Problems incoming, I took on and faced quick
Regardless if you understand the main gist
A lot of phenomenon and this world can't explain it
Don't be an ignoramus
It's not conspiracy or about getting famous
Why do continual acts occur that are heinous
Times were very far from the greatest
I was headed towards the grave if
I didn't get wiser and become one of the bravest
It's been difficult on a daily basis
I need to jump into a lake
Take a break
Gosh dangit
A heart of gold or soul cold like polar ice
To this day, so much is overhyped
And overpriced
Just not the same as prototypes
On top of that we got all these socialites
It never has been so polite
When it came to voting rights
FREE DREAMS, EXPENSIVE HUSTLES
HUSTLE: the power to hold dreams by the throttle
And run individual race like a hurdle.
DREAMS: You see her in abstraction, form-fleshed,
Holds the power to set the real you unleashed.
HUSTLE: He's your companion to the dreamland,
It demystifies obscurity & what you can't withstand.
DREAMS: the currency of the rich and famous,
the lingual franca of the poor and ignoramus.
Irrespective of economy, the DREAM is free,
the HUSTLE is sold separately & answers not to plea.
DREAM big but spend the HUSTLE currency well enough.
Big dreams are what big hustles are made of.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 28th October, 2022.
"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold
no fire can never warn me, I know that is poetry."
— Emily Dickinson
When I begin a book that leaves me cold,
with Emily, I soundly disagree.
I put it down to read something more bold
great poetry must spark passion in me.
Unlike Ms. Dickinson who is famous
I 'm not listed with poets well-known.
Not that I am some dumb ignoramus
but her poetry - absolute lodestone.
My poetry, somewhat common, lighter.
I am plain, short of three-dimensional.
Unlike Ms. Dickinson, a skilled writer,
Her acclaim, very unconventional.
Her century, frozen by handicap,
she missed out on the technology loop.
Between Emily and me - a big gap -
the warm audience at Poetry Soup.
May 12, 2022
Somebody , wins!
It may not be you nor I,
Many lost to heaven’s skies.
In the USA,war on the streets,
Young, innocent children, die?
A barrel or a gun do they meet.
Honest workers stabbed in stores?
If the police come to their aid,
They are “pigs” and nothing more.
The news honors the evil,
The good people are but a joke?
As the USA goes up in smoke!
The war in the USA, totally ignored?
As your Ford, is an object to destroy?
And ignoramus D.A.’s ruin the USA?
3~I4-2022
White skin wins in White Territory
With its ever celebrated White History;
The West wielding its Western Mandamus,
Not bothered that I’m no ignoramus.
White skin flourishes in the White World,
Where it sits like a Final Word:
Judges with their Stylish Neutrality
Their whistle blasting a Fair Partiality.
White Skin remains epidermal Snow,
Scarcely telling skin rashes “No”
Freely awarding each publicity
and for this promoting losing docility.
Indisputably lighter in color
But – Alas _ easily gets duller,
As the wearer fatefully gets older
Or the sun rays, its determined folder…
So is white skin finer than black?
Former and latter to not walk a track?
In Openness does black slack
But the White’s Openness wires it a whack!
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