Sleep, dearest angel of peace.
The Lord wanted you home.
We do not why such love from us
was by a gun taken.
We will go on, till God says……
it is our time and turn.
Then we can see Charlie again and
With joy, dance,
Amongst the stars with great joy!
Be of good cheer, till we are in heaven!
By following God’s commands each day,
You shall never, by God be forsaken!
9/21/2025
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
I map the vision, chase the need,
Between the lines, I plant the seed.
From stakeholders to strategy,
I am the bridge - that's BA me!
(chorus)
We ask, we link, we write it clear,
Align the goals, wipe out the fear.
No cape, no code, but still we thrive -
Business Analysts keep dreams alive!
Align with teams, architecture too,
Assumptions challenge 'till they are true.
Deadlines loom, the scope may sprawl -
But here we are, who see it all.
In dead silence, there’s a sound,
noiseless and yet profound.
Deeds provoking, not quite just,
from tainted minds that think, “we must.”
What a precious gem if caught,
the divinity of thought.
To control the human heart,
that takes something very smart.
Some may think the silence means
no one hears, or so it seems.
But there is the speechless word
in the spirit that is heard.
In the caverns of darkness stands,
an element with strict demands,
whose jaws will tighten on the lies,
and wrench the truth from its disguise
Times now test all living strength
pushing patience to end's length.
Power drives the merciless bold
to suppress the pitiful fold.
Clearly, some, will choose the wrong.
They must follow with the throng.
And stay silent ever since,
deathly fearing to speak against.
But in the silence, right prevails
In spite of suffering and travail.
Injustice cannot stand for those
who in a quiet fight - oppose.
In Heaven's silence, there's a sound,
holy and most profound,
the numbered reckoning of days,
that terminate life's foulest ways.
My name was called three times in the dark,
Echoes bending through the marrow of a tunnel.
Three old men stood before me—
Half-human, half-serpent—
A living triangle carved from shadows.
“From today you will be Cross,” they whispered,
“Bridge between foolishness and wisdom.”
The tunnel lights collapsed into silence.
Their eyes—golden, white, unblinking—
Poured fire into my soul.
They placed in my hand a single card: The Fool.
“Trust this path,” they breathed,
“For madness is the crown of kings.”
Then came Shira—
Tall, blazing, a flame in the shape of woman.
“I rule fame and sex,” she declared,
Her gaze burning holes through destiny.
“I will walk with you to the end.”
In the blink of a serpent’s eye—
We stood inside Clarence House,
Where walls bleed secrets of power.
The Reptilians circled close,
Voices rising like velvet daggers:
“You are now one of us.
You will heal, you will kill.
You will feed upon light and darkness alike.
Without you—
Stars cannot shine.”
The wheel of yin and yang spun silently.
And somewhere in the hush between shadows—
I felt both the crown
and the curse
of becoming.
Collops of fat line the tables of the few,
while the many stretch hands toward empty plates.
Skyscrapers rise in the capital,
yet in the villages, children bend under jerrycans,
walking miles for a sip of muddy water.
The economy grows, they say—
percentages polished and paraded—
but the growth is stored in vaults,
not in classrooms with broken desks,
not in hospitals without medicine,
not in the pockets of the farmer who tills red soil for nothing.
Every election season,
collops of fat are dangled like bait—
T-shirts, soap, envelopes,
promises swollen with grease,
but never nourishment for tomorrow.
The youth, restless, crowd into boda stages,
degrees folded in pockets,
dreams reduced to dust by unemployment.
Markets overflow with speeches,
but not with buyers.
Streets fill with posters,
but not with jobs.
Uganda’s wealth pools in corners,
thick, congealed, unreachable.
The nation limps,
while a few grow heavier, rounder,
their laughter echoing across gated compounds.
Collops of fat—
the evidence of excess,
the proof of imbalance,
the weight carried not by those who eat,
but by those who starve.
Eyes didn't organize
The tent drop
Code violation
Ten days an hour, so what week
Use on the monthly?
We not gonna speak
Lost voices in bravado money, can't reach
Such is that meaning why?
Answer four times a second
Birth control that
Building code violation
All over California
Hop
Y'all crawled hip?
Pay my rent
...it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge
would have strong encouragement to hold firmly
to the hope set before us."
Hebrews 6:18
Some parents fortify, supporting kids
to stay on top when testing waters’ depth.
Great expectations, ends, ev’n enemies,
are God's Supply, the wind and weight of wings.
A worthy teacher who embraces life
communicates those skills which stay the storms
for fledgling sailors, novice on their course.
God’s Sacred Scriptures give sound teaching scope.
A mentor stands as aide to steady growth
for doubting deckhands who can misconstrue.
Wise lessons bear resolve for hasty choice
when God's own Spirit is the mainstay - truth.
An anchor is one worthy of belief,
whose balance holds the navigator’s trust-
that hope which guardsmen put in the Pilot’s hand
God's Son, my Anchor, yea my Cornerstone.
For what do inits D.T. stand?
It's not what would please Ayn Rand
Her famous novel
Shows those who grovel
Are rather unfit for command
Have you ever stood still—
noticing the sudden absence
of what once followed you everywhere?
We think we know the reason.
We stitch guesses into tidy shapes,
as if they could fill the hollow
left behind.
But truth is slippery—
most times,
we can’t hold it at all.
We are meant to lift each other,
not pile stones in the way
of someone else’s climb.
So—
gentleness can outlast anger.
A patient tone
travels farther than a shout.
Carry a lamp in open palms,
not judgment clenched in fists.
This was never a wage to earn—
only a space to offer,
and a gift that cannot be traded.
Perhaps the shadow withdrew
because the burden bent its back,
or because it needed
quiet hands
to piece together what had shattered.
And maybe—just maybe—
it will return,
changed by distance,
tempered by the places it’s walked.
Some still whisper in dim corners,
but the one who stepped away?
They speak now
where the light is full and warm.
They said, “You’ll never change the stream,
Your plans are just a restless dream.”
But stones don’t fear the water’s voice -
they stand, they hold, they make the choice
to shape the flow, not drift away.
Around me, currents laughed and spun,
the gifted boats sailed in the sun.
Yet in the deep, I learned to stay,
to read the tides, to find the way
where rushing waves could not betray.
The years went on, the river turned,
and bridges stood where stones had learned.
Those who had mocked now crossed with care,
forgetting they had once stood there
to say, “It’s wrong - it can’t be done.”
I do not need their late applause.
The river bends to deeper laws.
And those who stand when all else moves
will find the strength the stream approves,
and greet the rising sun.
They told me, “Stop, it’s not your way,
Your path is wrong, your sky is gray.”
But roots don’t listen to the crowd,
they grow beneath the noise so loud,
and reach for light they’ve never seen.
I walked the fields they never crossed,
counted the hours they thought were lost.
Their easy crowns were quickly worn,
but I kept building, thorn by thorn,
a truth that time would prove was keen.
For knowledge grows in patient ground,
in work where no applause is found.
And when the bloom began to rise,
their doubt turned slowly into eyes
that saw what silence had begun.
Now every leaf repeats the call:
the seed that fights will stand as tall
as any gift the storm may give -
for roots that choose their way to live
will always find the sun.
I have work up in the bed,
After getting results in my head,
For votes between Mathayo and Ditrick Richard,
Can I tell you what's goes ahead?
Do you really want to know?
Who has came president in the law,
Just cool, I will go very slow,
In my next stanza which will flow.
Name started with D, ended with K,
His name is DI TRI CK,
He has got a lot of ticks,
He has came winner in the week.
Congrats to him for leadership to pick,
Opposers are no longer strong than weak,
Some got strock and they become sick,
Losing the sit, they could not think.
It's one thing life is full of, change
It is not enough we soar thirty century
Future where unbelievable is possibilities reality
Evolution mankind's ability to create a screen
Even amongst themselves hide behind a image
Perfection, what is it if we kill existence
A war zone of destruction, our swallow hard
Our pride, like evil feet trample we breathe
Lost depths our own abyss of faded darkness
Change one, if not yourself than another
That a long way a light shines the skin
Change the world, for a better tomorrow we give
Your heart, change too for your soul depends on it
Life a short breath away, exhale what's inhale
Through all this we go, strength finds hope
To find change, you must admit your own fault
Your weakness human by nature we fall short
But change one, perfection of love abound eternal
We desire to change our life but what price,
do we give that we become the world
Except we change one, the only way to better world
Specific Types of Leadership Poems
Definition | What is Leadership in Poetry?
Poems Related to Leadership
control, direction, management, power, influence, administration, authority, initiative, command, skill, foresight, capacity, preeminence, conveyance, supremacy, domination, superiority, hegemony, sway, primacy, conduction, pilotage, directorship, superintendency,