I swim in the vast ocean of mind and
plumb its depths for treasure
The pleasure is all mine as it exercises
my will to be great
Many covet life's precious jewels but aren't
willing to give what it takes in return
I've learned that nothing is free in this game of
life and high stakes
The price can make or break a man depending
on his perceptions reach
High science is a vault that can never be breached
by the mind of a layman
You can climb Jacob's Ladder high into the sky
of a mind by saving life
Heaven awaits atop the stairs like a loving and
faithful wife
Just & true are the words being spilled from the
hermetically sealed
The sight of such truths can blind a man with eyes
that don't see & can't feel
Giving faith to those who didn't previously believe
in what's real
Poem written in 2021 from my book Poetic Gnosis
available on Amazon to read for free or purchase
The steep was ever silent on that night.
The tree wept like it always did at night.
All seemed normal to a layman,
Never had trouble ever came in
But still the demons stirred and had their fun
For the wind was ever cold and thick as none.
"I don't belong here," the willow told the lord.
The sky then turned to thunder
After those evil words had been uttered,
Legend says it was deja vu,
But only the silence ever knew;
But no one knew the silence:
And on that lonely steep it stood
Nothing but wonder ever could
And if it breaks—oh how it would
My love would break, ever should.
A Wise Woman
They say a wide woman should build her house, but what about the piggish man with mannish mannerisms? He’s filled with doggie treats and dogma. Ladies, let me give you the T with your Danish. Excuse me while I arrange my dress, so you won’t undress my unholy ways with your grotesque eyes. Unless you’re distressed and under religious duress, if not then I digress.
Disdained, but my head is held high. Once upon a time, I drowned in biblical verses filled with curses. I tried to stay afloat but struggled to deal with a defiled bed. I had to give head on Sunday but realized I was headed for self-destruction but had to still keep the Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. For whatever it’s worth.
As a First Lady, I was always instructed to be a wise woman. following Proverbs made problematic predictions for me. I ended up impregnated under false fallacies. To a Jack and Jill went up the hill fables constantly in my ear. The Layman stays late to receive prayers while the holy enjoy extra curriculum, and activities anointed by god.
I thought only in free verse many write confusing poems,
But, by rhyming also many confuse with verbosity,
That description may be liked by all the great poets,
But, layman may gain nothing as he won't grasp at all,
I mean even fellow poets will find it damn cumbersome,
A poem must have clarity and in a way not complicated,
When tough words are deployed, it loses its purpose,
It is like wearing a very costly makeup by spending
And then covering the face with full mask funnily,
If Shakespeare now is present, he will be baffled,
As thousands of words have been added to English,
It is left to the choice of the poet to choose words,
But, simplicity is like praying to God with deep faith
And it can be done without any ostentatious acts,
I have given it as a poem and never as a comment,
Commenting like this is wrong as it is immoral,
We mustn't even advice to give bitter feelings,
As Henry David Thoreau clearly said long back,
All are marching for the drums that they hear,
So, may God bless all with freedom to write
As per their choice and feel greatly hilarious!
The countryside was their homeland,
Buried in the rich soils were their sons’ navel strings,
Nothing of their history was bland,
Not even the stain on their names or grit on their rings.
They toiled at life as if it was their last day,
Their dignity and self-respect was all that was left,
Making a sacrifice that little know of today,
Even their identities were liable to theft.
How lives are changed in this modern world,
The white lies tell of no more enslavement,
Yet we are groomed to fit into their mold,
For a moment of liberation and enjoyment.
Such is the world’s cruel reality,
For the sake of sustenance and survival,
The wealthy living is given to the minority,
And the poor man works and cries in deprival.
Third world societies’ demise in hind sight,
Yet they gloss it over with petty mess,
Dealing with trivial matters that concur their might,
Than those that seeks to make progress.
With their soft voices and layman words,
Who or what can they confront with their distaste,
If their dissatisfaction always go unheard,
What can a young child do to feel less displaced?
Ruining the moral murals
With its rhymes of times
Fulminous falls fell
Soaking my soul
With arts of heart-wall
The passing wayfarer
The life-laden layman
Seeing the callow curves
In a suppressed pipe dream
Giving a heart
of no fine art
A ditty with witty lines
Attuned with a fitting tune
Scented with a decent
Barely bloomed bud
In a thorn-throned thicket
To whir like a chirping cricket
I’m greatly grateful to thee
With a matchless sublime fee
For coaching in a cosy couch
Yonder, a song’s nature
And her phrasing of signature
Breathlessly speechless though
To requite the love I owe
You, to me, in words less
The Sinhagiri, the fortress
(The poetic English portrayal of the Sinhala verse ‘Wasanavan numba mata’ by Mr. Mahendra Siriwardane)
"One who meditates of death, has disguised his life as one.
One who meditated of death, in order to disguise, knows life."
- "Should I meditate of life then?"
You probably will be 'living death'
(P.s. explanation -
A layman who thinks of nothing but death, and has the essence of it to his very depths, has, ofc, known his familiar friend, 'life'
So he does, cause he has lived and lives of life and want none. Even so, he lives to the fullest. While trying to escape to a place where no human soul has ever reached, he simply traces the paths of knows. Doing so, unconsciously makes a futile attempt of disguising his living into that of death while he actually, indeed, turns to a mortal.)
We're the watchdogs of the government
The voice to the voiceless
The hope to the hopeless
The way to your salvation
The path to your righteousness
The key to your pathway
We're journalists!
We keep you entertain
We communicate to the president the people's plight
We investigate the activities of corrupt leaders and make it known..
We risked our lives in the war front to cover stories
We don't collect gratification
One microphone changes the heterogeneous dispersed audiences view
We're journalists!
We make known the unknown
We visualised for your eyes to see
So many work behind the camera we actualised
We give justice to the unjust
We avoid segregation
We give orientation
We make many fame
Their names heard beyond the universe
Our content is a guide for all to follow
We solve the unsolved
We're wide!
We breached the language barrier
We make complex words simple for the layman
We provide platforms for your potential
You just imagine a world without communication Radio television and social media... You just imagine
Druid
Prophetic Intelligent
Teaching Philosophizing Envisioning
Priest Cleric Amateur Dabbler
Escaping Studying Performing
Average Ordinary
Layman
learn to cut life piece by piece
don't swallow it ,
it chokes
a tailor told me
in piece by piece
she made it a beautiful dress
the mason said
from piece by piece
he built the edifice
the panel beater chopped!
from piece by piece
he shackled it
so the farmer said
from seed by piece
he harvested it
though from
an acre..
life is such a bunch
peel it in style
By Gideon Idudje
Auburn swirls of wind-laden leaves
coast to the cleat-torn orifices
of soggy, mud-clung grass.
That massed flapping pile time capsule
of summer sunsets is crushed with entering steps
like the rusting rain refrain.
A shorn sheep freezes from dusk until dawn,
following a downward descending path,
tattered and weather worn.
Stepping stone pieces beneath our feet
beat against earthen clay
like the rusting rain refrain.
Stammering to speak for apathy's tragedy,
words are heard like Braille to a layman,
as tin roof dripping resounds loudly
for failure to embrace its sloping surface.
September's sobs streak down beauty's cheeks
like the rusting rain refrain.
A farewell feast of forbidden wheat
bloats our bellies into swells, stirring grief.
Playtime is rushed to sleep with resistance,
as cinderblock thoughts toss and turn
until drifting becomes corroding numbness
like the rusting rain refrain.
Yes
I Know
BREXIT
3 Year's of total and utter
*!#;:*!#:;%
Or in layman terms
££££££££££
&
€€€€€€€€€€
&
$$$$$$$$$$
&
The Cult of Celebrity Politician's
And an Endless, Infinite stream of
Superfluous Boring News Coverage
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
If in the beginning the aim was to get voter's
Engaged in Politics and our future destination
Then the Reality has killed the Dream and with it
Democracy and the falicy People Count
People Count the Cost
While
Politician's Count the Money
Que - Se - Ra
Se - Ra
Whatever will be
Has already been decided
&
Unfortunately
You and I were not Invited
For Dan Kerr, A Layman
Me they never would ordain;
Could not bare all the strain,
He had been,
In lion's den,
So a layman still will remain.
Jim Horn
Every layman knows that since long ago,
painting, sketching and sculpting
by those possessing valid talent
has produced art that exhilarates hearts
and/or thoughts as artistry caught.
Not all know that our modern times
paired fine arts’ aesthetics chime
with craft’s utilitarian cadence
under Visual Art's mega umbrella.
Many wish riddance to this ambivalence.
To me, the grabbing-high from creativity
comes when it moves me perceptively.
I’m not much for art particulars,
its critics, popular trends or scholars.
I have my own criteria for art to
be brought home and share my hearth;
it must spark my imagination’s girth
with a delight that bubbles forth.
Great men are made of serious conscience,
its a fortune for a layman to know this science.
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