Long Arbiter Poems
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There once was man of means, who owned land that yielded a great harvest.
Thus caused the tearing down of a small storage house, to building a greater storage house.
Over time, he spent much of it being merry, selling small portions to fill his treasure house, whilst still yielding a great harvest keeping the great storage house full beyond measure, equally so, his treasury.
*As scriptured.
Jesus was asked to be an arbiter (an adjudicator, one who settles disputes) by a young man in the midst who wanted a fair portion belonging to his brother, whom 'twas given by virtue of birthright being the first born/eldest, according to the Laws of Israel. The younger brother wanted a fair portion of that that was given to his elder brother according to the birthright Laws of Israel. Therefore, the parable was a foreboding of covetousness, that what Heaven hast blest, thou shouldn't hoard as thine own, but to the furtherance of the teachings of Heaven. For what does it purposeth, when no one knoweth the hour when their life becomes forfeit and whatever has been gained, will go to those who had not earned it by labour, nor to those who have no need of it, nor to those who will sell off all your once prized possessions, at less than its true worth and squander it all away. Accumulation of wealth, is necessary but do not imprison thine heart to it and enrich self, but instead, enrich others, both physically and spiritually.
Date: 06/22/2019
Written: September 11, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Don't fret, dear; let's wend off the strife,
Candor your winsome grace—embrace life.
With a smile—arouse your inner fire,
Ignite the magic; cater glamour to inspire.
Revamp your vibes—yield them to radiate,
With the incitement of compassion, illuminate.
Empower the night to be a canvas for our dance,
Culminate in a symphony of romance.
Desultory whispers—replenish the air,
As diaphanous souls entwine in a rhythm so rare.
The night comes alive with a dulcet melody,
As love's symphony apes, lights shine merrily.
Our souls are in a dalliance—a longing dance,
Bodies squirming, hearts fluttering, stance.
With every toast, zeal will appear,
Early dawdles are the dulcet music we hear.
As a beacon, your smile paves the way,
Honing my grasp, velvety as tunes, light as spray.
The sky is our gossamer, and the stars our harbinger,
As we swirl and spin to the beat of a cosmic arbiter.
Hearts mellifluously carol a saccharine song,
as the opulent moon dances and bears us along.
Every tread, every nudge, every glance,
Speaks volumes of passion in a pastiche dance.
Once again, dear, let's ravel in the heavenly night,
Bosom compassion; wend our spirits; bear flight.
A sumptuous moment, no quest to pretend,
Our hearts will carol—until the seraglio trend.
You do not beat the Devil
By hollering at him, punching
Him in the face – that’s what
He is, violence, physical and
Spiritual discord. You do not
Beat the Devil by heated protests,
He feeds on your discord, relishes
Your fevered pitch. You don’t
Beat the Devil by binding him,
Throwing him into flames – He
is flame, pain and suffering. He
Joyfully savors every lick and
Subsequent ash. In fact, you do
Not beat the Devil, the Christ
In you must be risen to bear
Righteous arms. Take the battle
Upon yourself, make yourself
Arbiter of the Lord’s justice
And you will lose – He will
Defeat your lesser ego for that
Is his inlet and base of operation.
Shut Him out, do not give him
Any power for presence – and
God wins. We all win…. As my
Dearest Friend said, "Resist
Not evil."
Pumping and pushing with bloated gusto
In different styles and shapes they have come, as before
Each emerging through unresolved processes as planned
Piled up arsenals deployed like there is no tomorrow
All chanting in deafening croak to distract the people
Brandishing ill wealth, in brave impunity
Even State funds must serve personal ego now
Crushing the same masses whose votes count
One day, that must come, even in Naija
An irony, never imagined from a people so very blessed
Luring us the people with spoils from war against the same us
Our rights serve as gifts for the high and mighty
Alas we the masses will match to vote as ever
Hoping for once that our voices be heard
Yet the counts seem concluded, in endless night meetings
Times conducive for an arbiter to meet a contender
The umpire could already be in bed with a candidate
They have promised on their mothers’ graves which they defy daily
They have pretended to supplicate in unsolicited acts of humility
On us confusion rests, while the press and churches launder the vampires
On us the fangs will be unleashed when the power rests
Who will bid the highest for Awka Government House?
The time is almost up and all that can be bought have been bought
Those without a price are left confused, waiting for Godot
What would happen in the absence of my presence? I directed my gaze towards her, resting my head on her lap, and met her eyes. The depths of my heart would consume itself, seeking to alleviate the anguish caused by separation. Subsequently, my mind would assume control, becoming the sole arbiter of all emotional experiences. It would sense a profound sense of betrayal and transmit this message to the cells, causing them to agitate restlessly, unsure of who would facilitate the circulation of blood through the vessels. With the heart absent, the mind irrational, the cells frenzied, and the nerves severed, it would only be a matter of time before a fleeting and ominous thought infiltrated, whispering catastrophic conclusions. The heart, unable to quicken its pace to instill fear, the nervous system incapable of perceiving pain, the mind preoccupied to the point of neglect, and the cells having identified the body as their adversary – all these factors would culminate in my loss of functionality. Ultimately, in my state of non-functionality, I would cease to exist.
CANINE KING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a canine king with a luxurious coat most fair.
He ruled our neighborhood with nary a care,
his tail wagging wildly, his ears flapping in the air.
His little legs moved swiftly,
patrolling the streets quite deftly.
He sniffed and snuffled with a curious mind,
chasing the squirrels with harmless malign.
He barked at strangers with a fearless din,
growling and showing his teeth like a sharp mandolin.
He ruled the streets with an iron paw,
protecting and serving with his loving, doxie law.
He licked the faces of those he knew,
reigning gently while enjoying his doggie chews.
He was a master of mischief with his charming ways,
nudging with his nose, his way of begging you to stay.
His barks were music to my ears, his wags a delight,
dancing and prancing with a carefree spirit, light.
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a neighborhood hero and loving arbiter.
I do not deny that the heat of life’s bubbly buzz is cheery
But I would instead be the keen silent observer of all,
The keen eye that critiques the chaotic hubbub around –
The solitary judge who arbiters from the windows of a lonely soul.
For a decade or so I have been in the epicenter of societal fuss,
Now my turn to stand a few steps behind and watch the theatrics
Of the chattering mouths that make pink the streets and markets;
For I find so much pleasure in the observance of the varied graphics.
So I muffle my mouth and glue my tongue upon the palate
And I sit behind, and clear my eyes of mist before it’s late.
I received a novel item in the mailbox today.
It wasn't the usual bill or another political survey.
'Twas a letter! A letter, mind you, from a friend of many years!
A hand-written missive so rare that I'll keep it among my souvenirs!
What a pleasure to receive cheery news on the written page,
When e-mail messages that clog my computer are all the rage!
'Twas good to see splendid cursive writing from his fluid pen.
I hadn't received a letter via slo-mail since I don't know when!
The computer is a marvelous contrivance and has so many uses,
But using it for the personal touch, precious intimacy it reduces!
Nowadays, communicating with cell phones and texting is so fast,
That I fear the art of letter writing may become a thing of the past!
I must admit that I find communicating with the computer opportune,
When with family and friends I wish to expeditiously commune.
But when love or sincere condolences I wish to convey,
A letter is more appropriate rather than a computer screen display!
In the not too distant past, I wooed my intended the old fashioned way,
By composing saccharine missives sealed with a kiss almost every day.
I'm not an arbiter of such things but I think it is always in good taste,
To send a letter rather than use the computer to cut, copy and paste!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
My eldest sister Amélie Beth...
ever the amateur family entomologist
Upon texting her a picture
(countless moments ago
since October ninth)
unfamiliar delicate looking critter -
(seen inside the apartment many times),
she quickly identified crane fly
agilely affixed to lampshade.
I figuratively tip hat at Tipulidae
long legged dainty insect
poised to strike proboscis,
where adults buzzfeed on
nectar from flowers or other outdoor plants
unlike larvae whose diet
constitutes decaying wood and vegetation.
Said winged six-legged invertebrate
of the class Insecta
resembles a mosquito on steroids,
and can freak people out, crane flies
pose absolutely zero harm
to bipedal hominids i.e. *****sapiens.
Detriment to human beings
ought not serve as benchmark
to assess purposefulness regarding
all creatures large and small,
rhetorical question cometh your way:
how came man/woman kind
as arbitrary arbiter
determining which animal
and/or plant species
can claim their sweepstake
linkedin with world wide ecological web?
If assigned role of divine creator,
(atop egg shaped noggin of mine
thorn of crown yours truly would don)
dutifully, eagerly and immediately trumpet,
whereby naked ape relegated to dung heap
feasted upon courtesy voracious grubs
chief among them
the Alaskan Bull Worm.
Life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
in sync with inalienable rights
decreed toward all flora and fauna
except nasty horrible brute
loosing wanton cruelty upon planet
bajillion dollar bounty on her/his head
plus forced to eat Peruvian puff peppers,
which measures 16 million Scoville units
(this drake just joshing you)
if she/he violates trespassing code
compromising, jeopardizing, or yawping
indignities heaped against the existence
of any organism
(except haughty human beings)
entitled to live
upon oblate spheroid.
Invariably survival of the fittest
will decree dominance
of one or another living entity
unless robots take over the world.
My Mistress, the Moon
From mine chamber, breathless and perspiring upon the bed,
I spy you there, out my window, looming overhead.
Your gaze, a silent arbiter in the night,
I cloak my naked shame, to veil my plight.
Reigning atop her celestial silver throne,
While I, lie with a lover not of my own,
Broken vows flee like ravens in the night,
And you, casting shadows of guilt in your light.
Glistening spectral tendrils adorn the wet cobblestone,
Where I and my lovely paramour have dared to roam.
With discreet footsteps, we clandestinely meet,
And you, with your enchanting freckled glow, how sweet.
Soft beams gently caress her alabaster cheek,
Lost in each other’s eyes, passionate and weak.
Reflected in her amorous gaze, I see your ethereal glow,
A witness to our sinful secrets, only you know.
Beneath the silvered shroud of your alluring gleam,
Our love, a surreptitious waltz in a moonlit dream.
In intimate whispers and fervent glance,
You orchestrate this forbidden romance.
The conductor of a symphony of sin,
Our affair, a soiled tapestry, unraveling from within.
In the dark chambers of my heart, you are the phantom spike,
The harbinger of this dreadful plight.
From my bed, to the window’s edge, I drew near,
An inquiring voice, “What troubles thee, my Dear”?
“’Tis naught, my Darling, j’st——the moon’s, cold stare”,
All the while, a laden heart, wrought with despair.
For my spirit is torn between duty and desire,
Engulfed by passion’s flames, intense blue fire.
From my window to the heavens, I plea my discontent,
To the pale blue eye above, I solemnly lament:
“O Moon, in thy spectral light aglow,
Release my soul’s despairing woe.
In thy celestial realm, I lay bare my sins,
Where shame deepens, and remorse’s tide begins.
Cast thy luminous gaze upon my plight,
Guide me towards redemption’s forgiving light.
For in thy ethereal embrace, I plead release,
From guilt’s relentless grip, grant me peace.
Lead me, O Moon, through this sinful night,
In thy mercy, permit my spirit respite.”
Beneath your fading glow, the whispers of love wane,
As I bid adieu to this fleeting masquerade,
Sun cresting the horizon, she reaches for the door,
The time has come, farewell my muse,
my lovely paramour.
-Edward