Long Arguing Poems
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Written: June 17, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh
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I.
We rise to a pulse that breaks the silence.
a line of gold across the morning.
beckoning us forth before we are ready,
Before we hear the race has truly started—
a quiet request rising from inside.
II.
Morning fades to a pale, uncertain light,
half-selves drifting as dust in the air,
still clinging to the scent of who we were
before the world grew heavy with choices—
before gold glimmered in the distance.
III.
We move as an elfin, uneasy group,
carrying dreams stamped bright but brittle,
Hearts beating flinty against the dark ahead.
A ray of gold shining amid the gloom.
a gleam we believe is fate.
IV.
Vintage bruises sigh in the backyard.
echoing with every step we claim.
We ignore the noise, but it pursues,
shadows that mirror our breath —
reminding us of what we had tried to leave.
V.
The path narrows where memory fades,
where doubts slip through, akin to wind in a seam.
Some carry anger as a hidden ember,
some cradle hope as fragile as a leaf—
all us drawn by the same distant glimmer.
VI.
Night rises with its ghostly forms,
the scent of earth and storm-swept branches.
Our veins burn red with restless longing,
hedonist and skeptic arguing in the ribs—
Yet still the gold glows ahead.
VII.
A wanderer utters truths he can’t verify,
But belief does not alter the nature of the race.
Gold is not an offering waiting at the seal;
It is a mirror in transforming light,
Reflecting what we prefer not to stare at.
VIII.
Pages of our past ignite as we stroll forward—
ink-built towers of selves we nearly became.
Empathy thins, love sharpens, then softens,
And slowly our shadows loosen their grip
as daylight widens around us.
IX.
At last, we reach the hollow gold,
quiet, patient, shimmering without demand.
Not a reward, but a sanctuary for the lost.
a nest for the selves we shed on the way—
And in its luminescence, we arrive at last.
Life seems complex
fighting and arguing everywhere I go.
Voices rise like storms
in places that once felt quiet.
Children separated from parents,
children watching love break apart.
Some stay to live with one,
some go with another,
some stand in the middle
where feelings turn neutral,
where silence replaces tears.
Nothing hurts anymore,
because no tears are left to cry.
They were all spent
six years ago.
Now the memories return,
old experiences knocking again.
I feel no pain,
only the echo of what once was.
Still, I remain here
in this world
with my mom
and my brother.
Because this is a new door,
one opening slowly,
and I will walk through it.
I will live
a good life.
There are doors that need to be closed
Conditioned mind with right and wrong
Is their anything wrong or right?
Isn't everything created by God right?
The concept of Good and bad
Isn't everything good?
Can anything created by God be bad?
The door of dirty and clean
Aren't animals living healthily?
Is it true or fallacy?
We need to open some doors
The door to soul
If all scriptures say it exists
It must be true!
Door of empathy
We turn a blind eye to others suffering
God resides in heart of all!
Door of understand
Looking at things from others perspective
Understanding, not arguing
The door of God
See him in all
Serve all like he does
The door of oneness
All are beads of same string
A part of whole
The door humility
Whatever we have is gifted to us
It will be taken away one day
The door of eternity
Strive relentlessly to see soul
Seek salvation
Salvation opens the door to eternal bliss
After salvation all door close
Only one reality exists
We are a part of God
Existing within him
working for him
All doors vanish forever
25.07.2021
For Anthony Biaanco, DOORS
The next president of the USA
Here we are on another Sunday; we have survived
the debacle, two old men arguing, none of them
wore reading glasses
Two things stood out, both are adept at lying with
open eyes, not looking a bit embarrassed despite
we know, except perhaps their wives
The one, more senile than the other's wife, said
she was proud of him, able to remember all
the questions without hesitating too much
so much so that when they walked out of the speaker hall
, she bought him an ice cream
One of the elderly gentlemen will be the next press
I must say, I have a sneaking admiration for him
with his bottle-tanned face. I once saw him at Chester Zoo
not unlike him beating his chest
in a bullying manner
in the background, Kamila Harris spoke about
the community and cackling excitedly
after all, she might become the first female president of America
Alas, it doesn't matter who becomes president since
the Zionists (AIpack) bought and financed everyone
on the hill (Washington), whoever wins has to drink
from this poisonous challis and take their cue from
the Mossad in Israel.
The stupidity of man
The leaders of Europe are gripped by a collective madness
Like swimmers in a river feeling the pull of the current, think
There is time to swim ashore where banks are not so tall.
The river gets wider, the current stronger, the ocean nearer
Where the maelstrom awaits churning life into fragments.
The leaders of Europe thought they could alter the current
Vainglorious as king Canute trying to stop the incoming tide.
There are those the enemy of humanity who thinks a nuclear
War is not so bad, millions are killed but not for those who hide
In a secret valley in Wales, so dumb they are dying in a cave.
We, the people are blind to spending time arguing about
The non-binary sexual politics drowning in utmost banality.
What's strange in this picture?
Tell me something as regards her look.
It's the same as existence, as anything pure.
She undoubtedly knows how to cook.
She has a distinct color of hair.
She's so gentle, steadily low, and cool.
Her eyes are rather blue and fair;
I Will say that I believe she has a rule.
I carefully studied the whole room.
She requires me to promise her.
I've gone through my fervid gloom.
There's no arguing all around that fear.
My view of her is almost reasonable.
I'm stuck in the ground now.
There is a vain effect on her syllable.
Yet, I remain calm and slow.
There seems to be no "Heaven."
The base focus, she has an ability.
Then at the core of my heart, forgiven.
It concludes with equal versatility.
03/07/2021
Lost
Left lagging behind.
Numb, upset, unfortunate, unlucky.
Everyone else getting on with it.
But I'm left in limbo.
Brain fog adding to my fear
At a distance from them all,
Even with him, a lack of intimacy exists.
Arguing with me, no sympathy, like a stone.
‘Get on with it’ he says.
‘Stop moaning. Take action’.
So easy for him to say.
What a mess!
I walked on clouds so foolishly,
Thinking I stood a chance, so proud.
My dream was coming through.
But once again, shattered, deflated, heartbroken, I fell flat.
What a fool I was to even think for a moment it could have been me.
As if! Me? Wake up girl and smell the coffee.
You never stood a chance.
You were led up the garden path!!
It's okay for your friends to be successful but not you.
Your dream will never be! Accept it! Get on with it!
No one has threaded softly on my dreams.
They've trampled them.
I'm lost.
- - - Fading - - -
The mighty oak once standing strong
Now lying still upon the giving ground.
It’s leaves in wind, they carried song.
Of which, of this, no longer found.
The facial hairs have turned to gray.
Hair frizzing up and turning white.
Joints commanded ‘move’ but stiffened stay.
Eyes and mind now search Eternal Night.
Common sense – a gift through learning.
Truth once held its weight in Gold.
Love by test through time - not through yearning.
Wisdom gone with the dead-grown-old.
The lie now truth - wrong is right.
Forgery now changes dark to day.
A belligerent mouth holds strength and might.
Suddenly, seems, we've lost our way.
Hard to sleep so close to death.
Must hold fast to the original Me.
Arguing Evils muddle with each wheezing breath.
Must wake as whole – as was born to be.
The brutality of Life continues on.
Nothing now is what it seems.
All the ‘knowing’ - - dying – gone.
Life fades to whispers – Chaos screams.
Shadow Seeker March 2023
there once was a boy who lived in a little town
where he was considered one of the toughest around
it was not that he wanted to bully for fear
he was forced to live up to the reputation of his peers
deep in his heart he knew it wasnt right
but for some reason he was always forced into a fight
even though he wanted too it was too late for change
he had to live live up to the family name
and it was never cause by the things he did
it was always because he was so and so's kid
his little brothers was'nt as tough as him
so he had to always take up for them
a friendly kid pushed into rage
by being force in to fight guys sometimes twice his age
arguing he didnt chance the risk
he always settled all disbutes with his fisk
he was such a person no one could perdict
some would say he spoke softly but carried a big stick
others would say he has a good heart but just a mean streek
however he was not one to be considered weak
until this one fight that he was sure not to lose
where he ended up with both eyes black and blue
and with a pain he'd never experince before
he knew at that moment that he did not want more
seems the first time in his life someone had pulled his card
cause he was taken punches that was pretty darn hard
so for the first time in his life he just turned a ran away
he figured better there he go than there he lay
..
So many times I wished to write about them
but never had the courage to lift a pen,
could words ever describe their smiles
specially when they're hiding a surprise,
could words ever describe the joy
I feel, when they hug me tight,
could words ever describe my pride
when they walk up to receive a prize,
could words ever describe how my heart breaks
when they fall, yet pretend to be brave,
I could never put in words the prayer I say
each time they leave home for school or play,
could words ever describe the warmth I feel
when I stand by the bed and watch them sleep,
arguing, talking, crying, laughing being together
words could never describe the joys of being a mother...