Long Airplanes Poems
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So what brought you back here after twelve long years; what brought you back here when you don’t have any good news to share?
You run the company bone dry and suddenly took off to the sky. You have been living a life filled with luxury, hosting executive dinners and weekly exorbitant party. Pretty women dining on your lawn and men caught up in a brawl, exhibiting colorful socks and advertising their mother’s frock, the moment was rare but there was more to share.
So what brought you back here when you have nothing to fear, what brought you back here when the message is already clear? You have made a fortune from me to access my personal diary, you have used all my thoughts to buy house, land and property, limousine and an island across the stream and a big development called mountain of the past.
you have manipulated my words and distribute it around the world and when you get rich you throw my document in the ditch and then you come back here to continue your ridiculous irony.
See the cabinet sitting over there, it is filled with documents dates back for more than thirty years, you have build bridges and factories, trains airplanes, buses, trucks and van, development across the land and construction dating back for more than thirty years with my word running down those pages.
The words that make you into a man the words that cause you to stand, the words that send your family to school and the word that provide your daily food.
For what reason did you come back here? to drag me out into the street and disrupt my heart beat? I am just an island sitting in the sun without an amour or a gun, you have been so discrete, and I will not stop until you settle every penny you earn in the street and the sleepless night I stood on my feet, you will have to answer to the sky and compensate the people before you die.
See those people standing in line, that reaches the center of the universe, they are willing to stand there until daylight just to mark the x to remove you from that artificial intelligence desk.
Let your conscience speak to tend to matters, let your consciences speak to deal with what is proper; one group is moving out of town and I don’t know where they are bound , they are honking their horn but destiny will meet them before dawn for what reason did you come back here.
Everybody says
money is the root of all evil
yet we tried a system of trading
swapping your products, service
for the goods and food you require
imagine the effort required
to make enough trades
to supply your needs for a week
money was created
as an evolution of progress
money in itself is not evil
greed and abuse is evil
Money is just a tool
the lifeblood of society
taking our products
from one person to another
In the human body
every cell receives
the required amount
of blood to survive
yet human society
fails to share
the required resources
of the planet
every cell every human
requires the money
that allows people to survive and thrive
in our progressive world
we all demand our own culture
our own nation
our own country
but we are all human beings
apart of one planet
one world
one human race
granted we all have different ideas
different dreams
we all fight for our children to survive
we all want to enjoy life
we all have our own conflicting needs
but surely between the conflicting needs
we can find a compromise
work towards the dream of peace and equality
to continue down the path of war
Is to create our own destruction
if we release every nuclear bomb
the gas clouds surrounding the earth
would destroy crops nuclear poisoning
putting every surviving human through hell
with today's ability to design automatic weapons
the technology we possess could carry on killing
long after we were all gone
The first world war was created By Gravillo Princip
but the German Kaiser Wilhelm ll
also wanted to build an empire
England was fighting with Ireland
with Germany supplying weapons to Ireland
Russia was not prepared for war
weapons and infrastructure
far inferior to a prepared German Army
The Kaiser believed he could win
instead, he lost his country
Hitler Thought he could win Instead he lost
England went into debt
World war two technology-wise
we went for propeller airplanes
into the creation of jet engines and rockets
weapons of mass destruction and atomic bombs
What would we design with a third world war
automatic weapons artificial intelligence
the science fiction of comic books
could become the reality of our death
think well before we jump into the abyss of stupidity
I
Don't
Need
Proof
Of
Your
Growth
Hope and Love
Brittery
Flowers
Sprout
In
The
Hour
Of
Hope
&
Luv
Airplanes
Do
Land
Young
And
Beautiful
You
Are,
Much
Like
Me
In
Times
Of
Tribulation
And
Jubilation
Bring
Me
Down
Under
Eyes
Release
Waterfalls
Of wonderfulness
I
Am
Torn
Apart
By
Sorrow
That
I
Will
Feel
This
Yesterday's
Tomorrow
...
..
.
..
...
Do
You
Hear
Me
Cry
?
Don't
Ask
Why
?
??
???
??
?
Do
You
Hear
My
Plea-
Inspired
Prayer
?
Slayer
To
Sin...
Leave
My
Presence
From
Deeeeep
Within
...
..
.
..
...
Hand
Me
A
Key
To
UnLoCk
The
Truth
&
Peace
Plz...
That
Peace
That
Re-re-
Re-re-
Renews
My
Tragedy
In
Reverse...
Getting
A
Grip
On
The
Rope
Hope
On
Its
Last
Strand...
Until
It
Snaps
!
!!
!!!
!!
!
Ripped
Off
At
The
Mall...
Banging
My
Fist
Upon
The
Abstract
Art
Wall
X
XO
XOX
XOXO
XOX
XO
X
Mad
As
A
Hornet,
For
I
Love
You
&
I
Hate
You...
I
Like
You,
Yet
I
Despise
You...
Dislike
The Things you do and what you put me through...you make me hesitate and I'm the hue of blue
I
Am
Sewn
By
God's
Spirit and Aura
Do you forgive me?
Oh Lord of accord...
I no longer envy
everyone's optimistic and pessimistic chord
^_^
I
Am
Hoarding
These
Feelings
Of
Falling
For
You
:>)
XD
Did
You
Actually
Answer
My
Prayer
Of
Help-
Me-
Plz?
C;
Hand me a compass to lead me to a peaceful path...do me a favor and give me a helping hand that scrubs me with the bubbly liquids of hope and love and be my crow dove tonight because it's black and white that I love you with all my mesmerizing might - it's my write to right to you...it's my way of getting my way with you too...but I'll dig up brains for myself, though I'm sick with the luv flu that is a below shelf
I
Can't
Hold
On
To
Someone
So
Good
Enough...
That
Izzzzzzz
Full
Of
Luv
From
Abuv
I
Can't
Get
Enough
Uv
Eyez
On
Fire
Of
Desire,
But
Put
In
The
Front
Fire...
Lift
Me
Higher,
My
Graceful
Glow
Keep
Growing,
My
Brittery
Flower
Just
One
More
Hour...
Wings
Do
Fly
As
Long
As
You
Show
Off
Our
Love-Hate
Oath...
Out
Of
The
Cave...
Of
Timid
Brave
POETS ARE POOR
Omawumi birthed venom yesterday
She won't marry me again because
I am a poet, she said poets are poor
Is my pen not worthy to buy her make up?
If poetry gives no money I will still be one.
When the arrow of folly is carved
Wisdom back off to the gallaxy of stars
Poetry can't be broken easily like sticks
Poets live beyond the rivers of warlords
Poverty is not in the secret of lexicon of poets.
Mother sent me out of the house
Because I told her I want to be a poet,
She cursed my generation to come
Then wrote a note to my future never
to favour me in my desperate journey.
When the eyes of stupidity is begotten,
When the mouth stand taller than the nose,
When the scent of a madman becomes pleasant,
Check the nose that picks the aroma well
Poets are the million airplanes in the sky.
"Poets are poor" my teacher screamed at me
"Can't you be a doctor or lawyer than a poet?
You will sing without song in your mouth soon,
There won't be bread on your table to eat
And you will measure yam before you eat it"
Let the perceptive of a saint be kept,
Musical artistes are not idols to worship
I can also be praised in my own corner
Please your eyes with your sinful thought
Poets are the lust in the eyes of the saints.
"How many houses do Wole Soyinka have?
How much does Chinua Achebe have?
You will just die and perish without worth,
Nothing but a bitter tears and sorrowful blood"
My sister barked at me this morning!
It is not my tale to tell of a house and money!
Not my business to know those in their covens
All fingers are not the same as all men are not
My tomorrow have been written favourably,
I only water it through the idea of the gods.
"Go get a life, poets are sick with words!
Poets are poor! Poetry is no treasure to keep
Go and join Ekene in his business at Onitsha
That would keep bread on your table not poetry"
Father buttered my ears last breeding night.
What is my business with business
Poetry will keep food on my table soon
Poor poets are not my cup of tea to drink
Everyone have a different mindset and vision
Soon, poetry will be commercialized and we earn
Much more than Dangote and Mike Adenuga.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Compared with us, the kids today
Too little play and too much weigh.
Alone indoors they snack and sit
And buttons hit, while we stayed fit.
We'd quickly chores and homework do,
Then dash through doors to fun pursue,
To basketballs and arrows shoot,
To jump with ropes, and footballs boot.
We'd earthworms dig for fishing bait,
On scooters glide, and roller skate.
We'd hopscotch, seesaw, chase. and swing
And boomerangs and frisbees fling.
We'd tackle, dribble, leap, and throw.
We'd tunnel through and shovel snow.
In haystacks dive and wagons ride,
On ice and into bases slide.
We'd whittle wood and baskets weave
And pennies pitch and horseshoes heave.
We'd yank the strings so tops would spin,
When wrestling, try to shoulders pin.
We'd kindling fetch and firewood chop,
Inflate balloons to later pop,
Sink numbered balls in billiard halls,
And topple pins with bowling balls.
We'd weekly swim at downtown Y,
Our kites and model airplanes fly,
We'd darts and putts and marbles aim,
With lens or flint set twigs aflame.
We'd sneak beneath the sideshow tents,
Climb ropes and poles and chain link fence.
We'd hike and camp with scouting troops,
Rotate our hips in hula hoops.
We garden weeded, hosed, and tilled,
We'd soap box car and treehouse build,
At picnics joined the tug-of-war,
And barefoot romp when rain would pour.
We raced on stilts and pogo sticks,
Made pies of mud, our pets taught tricks,
Were paper, pin, and altar boys,
Ignored complaints of too much noise.
For caddie tips, we'd golf bags lug;
To jukebox records, jitterbug.
We'd carpets beat, played kick-the-can,
Collected rocks, and errands ran.
To school and back on foot we tread,
Down steepest hills and alleys sled,
Played pitch-and-catch in yard with Dad,
Pushed mower that no motor had.
We'd rake the leaves and chestnuts crack
And toddlers carry piggyback.
With feather pillows fight in bed,
Our cap guns fire, and fall down dead.
We'd wildly flail at punching bag
And batted balls and passes snag.
We'd zig and zag, avoiding tag,
Till tuckered out, we'd homeward drag.
No trophies or applause we'd get.
Our play was real, not internet.
To kids today, I this advise:
Get off your butts and exercise!
“Only girls cry!…Boo hoo!”
"Look at you" he taunted me, (as big brothers often do)
Making a mockery. He kept teasing me, heckling me,
as I whined, and cried, and planned revenge
Neither of us would have won a prize, for being Mom's angelic pride,
of Kirby street that hot July...
“You Thug!”..I cried,…a laughing stock...his mocking me,
and worst of all, our bitter brawl played out for all the world to see.
No recourse, no remorse..(poor me!!)… As the butt of his demeaning jokes
By then my temper had been stoked, he had poked me once too often!
So HUGE, was my disdain for his smug, big thug, that grinning face,
in retaliation, for my humilation, (as an enraged little sister might do..)
I grabbed one of his model airplanes….and threw……THREW HARD...
It broke into shards, big shrapnel pieces…I dashed for cover...
Hovering behind the hedge…waiting for his own revenge!…
Instead it left a gash, a bloody angry wound, I was aghast....!
Well, of course our Mother got involved.. .
It was resolved by iodine and bandages
And a tongue lashing...
“You could have put out his eye!! ….and then we cried, …the two of us
Well we would repent, and spent the day becoming friends...
The afternoon out in the yard….
One sudden, unguarded moment ….
there was a car,.... came ‘round the bend
and as our game was 'bout to end....his dog, (his mongrel friend) was hit
....and then....
all time suspended........
My brother’s sweet dog, who slept on his bed, was gone
The next hours painfully hung…and long is the memory that still weighs a ton….
Ending with me alone in my bed..
Mute with grief ….remembering his words….”Only girls cry”….
Hearing his sobs……all through the night..
And my parent's cooed comfort, the soundtrack to this tragic movie
That still plays in my darkest theater….all these years later
I shudder still, have a lump in my throat…how that faint little scar, can still emote…
such feelings of tenderness I felt on that day.
Over the years…we have shared many tears…
we have leaned on each other, me and my brother
Big girls will cry, just as little girls do…and big boys can cry,
..and hey,..that’s okay, too
GOD’S CHRISTMAS GREETING
With Christmas time here once again, I wanted something new,
A greeting you have never heard that I could say to you.
So, “Season’s Greetings” will not do, nor, “Happy Holidays,”
And, “Merry Christmas” is so old; it’s been said many ways.
It seems each year the world is worse with wars most everywhere,
So, “Peace on Earth” is so unreal a greeting now to share.
I wonder just what it was like that night so long ago
When people waited for a king—or did they really know?
They had no greeting there at all to give each other then,
For they were in a bondage deep to cruel Roman men.
Augustus spoke an edict that they all must make their way
To the home town where they came from to register one day.
They had no cars or airplanes there; they had to trek for miles
And evil men to look out for as they traveled all the while.
I wonder how poor Joseph felt with his new pregnant wife
And traveling from Nazareth through miles of stress and strife.
He had no good news that he could give to Mary as they went
To find there was no room to stay, each place had now been spent.
And it was now time for the child to make His greeting here,
So in a stable full of straw that greeting did appear.
As I think on this quiet night, it’s not really something new,
Or a greeting so unusual that I can share with you.
I know, you’ve heard it oft before, and yet it’s ever real—
It’s a NEW BIRTH that we can have and His salvation seal!
Joy to the world! The Lord has come! Let us receive Him now!
That silent night in Bethlehem where shepherds came to bow
Is when God so loved this old world that He gave us that day
His only pure begotten Son to take our sin away.
That gift of words to you and me is eternal life to all
Who come by faith in God’s dear Son and on His name will call.
So don’t look for some fancy words that man may try to say,
For many would just rather ban those words from us today.
But no one trying hard in might can change God’s greeting now,
For there is coming yet a day when EVERY knee shall bow.
The greeting then I give to you is one from Him above:
Trust God’s gift now of Jesus Christ sent to us from His love.
From Clarence E. Billheimer, “The Ready Writer,” Christmas 2014
A war without gun send the people on the run.
A war without gun thats the best thing that the world could have done.No guns, no bullets,no knives
Just the virus is making them pay the price.
Airplanes are grounded, schools are closed
And the army is on the look out.Big guns in hand
And the military getting ready to sing their song
Big guns but no bullets they parade around the street
With guns pointed in the air, there is nothing to fear.
A strange mood is sweeping through the air
that is causing people to fear, you can feel it
But you cannot touch it, it creates a mystical mood
and it leaves everyone confused.Something dangerous is
hapening that leaves everyone panicking, the sun is getting hotter and the frantic mood is burning up the place.Something just is not feeling right especially when
You have made so much sacrifice, man can hardly come
To terms with himself, heaven has finally make him bend.Humility burns like fire in his soul he has to stand up and be bold and open the next chapter before he grow old.Mankind racing against time look for everything that is divine.The music has finally toned down
and everyone is listening to a different sound.
They are buying out the store and food is ration more and more.The cars are lined up in the street getting ready for the final decree, everything will soon be
lock down and the real impact will be felt all over the land.Man will drop like mice in the streets and he has to
Play to his own heart beat.The weak, the old and the innocent will have to face their own consquences.
And when the day is done, victory will be on the run.
The world will wake up to a new song when this battering is done.Say sorry when you can say sorry.
Say sorry and you don"t have to worry.Powerless guns whose point is blunt bacame silent as corono rip through the place.Vinigar and salt will help to calm the storm.
Vinigar and sugar will sooth your liver.Garlic and spice
Has everything that is right.School children tumbling dowdown the street cannot understand the motion that is in their hand.Time is closing in and everyone will have to pay for their sins.Get up and go.You are fighting a war
Without gun and victory is on the run.
he sits in back of the class
The jocks throw paper airplanes
near the chump's little rear
Picking his nose-how gross!!
Laughter ensues
They all like to make fun of him the most
Teacher wants him to wear a dunce hat
Making sport of him is where the good times are at
NOSE PICKER
-SS GRABBER
FOUR-EYED FREAK
and more
The girlies all think he's a PERV
Especially big breasted Linda
She has the nerve
Billy Bully throws his books
Eyeing Melvin with threatening looks
John-boy the janitor
makes him eat some worm
20 slimy ones
to make the runt really squirm
NO NERDS DOWN THIS HALL
so says the dope dealers-6ft5inches tall
Poor Mel of the Dweeb sect
He hasn't somebody who could like him as yet
Some days are for the clique heirarchy
Others can be cruel to the meek and timid
LIFE IS NOT ALWAYS THAT FAIR,IS IT??
Form:
Five-and-Dime Store
by Odin Roark
Maybe I remember ‘cause…
Everyday was a holiday
At Woolworth’s Five-and-Dime store.
Colored things were floor-to-ceiling,
Holding fast the lingering scents of popcorn,
American grilled cheese sandwiches,
Salt Water Taffy and fudge squares,
Clashing with parakeet and hamster living.
They were in the back where the little kids’ zoo was.
Maybe ‘cause…
Life-size cardboard Hopalong Cassidy
And Gene Autry cutouts hung from fishing lines,
Wrapped round roof nails.
Five and Dime treasures dangling over
Kid literature my dad called them
Five cent comic books right next to
Licorice and malt-ball canisters.
And just up the aisle,
Grandma’s favorite counter
Where she’d always buy her special envelopes--
Light blue par avion with printed airplanes.
I’d lift my chin up to the edge,
Stare at those airplanes
And dream. Wow, how I dreamed.
Maybe I was collectin’ make believe
for when…
Oh, how Mom and Dad, Grandpa and Grandma
Loved to drive the Model A into town,
Saunter up to the Five and Dime counter,
Order a turkey dinner,
Or liver and onions,
And then stare so long…
So long they’d stare into
Their empty coffee cups,
While I slurped my root beer.
I could make a root beer last forever
You know?
Mama bought a lampshade once,
The crimped accordion-kind,
Along with those lacy see-through curtains.
“Par-cale” I think she called them.
Never did understand their purpose.
What good’s a curtain you can see through?
And home,
When they were hung,
They’d lift and float straight out
When the windows were open.
Our cows and chickens would chorus up
Join me to laugh and the dancing curtains.
See-through-lift-up curtains.
Made no sense.
Maybe…
Maybe that’s how they all
Wanted to be remembered
Mama, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa.
I don’t know.
Now I sit in my new Lexus
Gaze across the street
Where the twenty-story
Glass and steel office building.
Erected where the old Five and Dime
Held so many good times.
Maybe I drove here ‘cause…
I needed to finger some nickels and dimes
In the pant pocket of my Armani suit
Gaze and remember the sweet smells and jelly bean colors.
When gettin’ happy and stayin’ happy was so easy.
Back then.