Long Avenging Poems
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I would just like to say
that it is my impression
that longer hair
and other flamboyant affectations
are male dominant immersions
from sadly dull camouflage
into the birthright
and left
of his trans-pangenderal sex.
And I would also like to say
that it is my impression
That wars
and bombs
and other ballistic
bad depressions
are far more likely
as our fast paced race
toward mass extinctions
are killing Earth's
healthiest climate pace.
And I would further
not like to say
that it is my impression
While predative parasites inhabit
and colonize our landmass
we're also trash dumping
our oceans
swamping our warnings wasted
polluting our breath
about rabid tendencies
to eat our own young
with sick competitions
in militaristic fun.
And I would just like to say
that it is my sad impression
Apartheid is shunning
and rabidity is plumbing
as life losing EarthTribes
continue succumbing
to Mutually Assured
RightWing Destruction,
MAD rabid bullies blaming
and judging
and shaming
while throwing away care
for all those Others
not part of We,
most supremely
straight white patriarchal
Me.
I would just like to say
that it is my mad impression
Grown in a sacrileged perspiring image
of JehovahGodYahweh's
avenging AllahWe
maybe shouldn't die off
quite so quietly
when Earth's Great Rapture
smells like ecocide
rabid unraveling decidedly
What Gaia would just like to say
health is Her wealthiest impression
That wars
and bombs
and rabidity
are humanity's
own RightBrain repressing
LeftBrain dominant depressing
historically hysterical
degenerative stupidity
Lack of whole-sum
bi-spectacled fluidity
I would justly love to say
and sing
and dance
for less degenerative
climatic morbidity.
April 2 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 1Samuel 25-27
Key Verse – 1Samuel 25:26 Now therefore, my lord, as the LORD liveth, and as thy soul liveth, seeing the LORD hath withholden thee from coming to shed blood, and from avenging thyself with thine own hand, now let thine enemies, and they that seek evil to my lord, be as Nabal.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO WITHHOLDS US
FROM DOING EVIL
Praise be to God for withholding us from doing evil as He:
Gets us up toward holiness-pursuits
Grants us provisions along prosperity
Greets us with His calmness so peaceful
Gears us for diligence upon paths of progress
Governs us by His defense of powerful protection
1Samuel 26:19 Praise be to the Lord Who secures us
to abide in His inheritance so that we can:
Pursue through His victory while praising along salvation’s testimony
Plead for His valor while praying for strength’s tenacity
Prove His virtues while prevailing from sin’s testing
Pitch upon His vigor while protected by His sanctifying truth
Persevere by His values while provided with His sure triumph
1Samuel 27:5 Praise be to the Saviour Who
welcomes us to dwell in His grace:
Experiencing worship’s delight
Escaping from worldliness’ despair
Expecting wisdom’s discernment
Exemplifying winsome deliverance
Exuding worthiness’ display. Amen!
April 2, 2024
Much I marveled the romance dear
Instead I uncovered the fondness
Ah, distinctly I was conquering
And its eyes have all the occupying
There stood an avenging spying
The catching closeness concerning
Learning, learning!
The apprentices came concerning
What could there be more purely discerning?
With such a passion for churning
How they were churning, burning - learning
I crave the floating, flowing fascination
With such a passion for turning
I crave the decisive, diverting doing
Long I stood there leaning, dewing
Of the bonk's that is wooing
Of regards that are cooing
My breakthrough, I could not awaken
All my soul within me wooing
It threw its ghost against the heavens
The witting whipping wringing
All my soul within me winging
I discovered the lovers
The revolutionary brought such sorrow
They are perfumed from unseen vipers
The pertinent push preferring
Do you like quivers?
They are perfumed from unseen hardcovers
Our love is just now discovered, unlike any others;
1/8/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2021
I feel so freaking, God-like good;
I feel My chest-expanding heart
and the mad frenzy in My blood,
which tear My mind and soul apart!
These urgent voices in My head
reverberate and echo loud
memories and regrets now dead
and buried in a forsaken shroud;
they scream at Me, "You're the Devil!"
They prophesy the Anti-Christ,
and accuse Me of all the evil
since mankind first became enticed.
I refuse their shrill, satanic call;
and find in the Apocalypse
that God's avenging Angel of all
is Me who is the world's eclipse.
"Not Anti-Christ!" I now reply.
"Not Devil!" I begin to shriek,
"for the Lamb of the world am I,
the Lord's Messiah for the meek!"
Sinners will know their final hour;
they will drown in their anguished cries
when I at last will know My power,
and expose all their wicked lies!
In this soft, padded cell of white
they watch and look at Me with dread;
they view Me as a monstrous blight,
and starve Me with unleavened bread.
How long is My imprisonment?
I cannot guess, divine, or tell;
but from the look of that filament,
they can keep Me for quite a spell;
"Dear God! I hate these lousy drugs,"
I howl, "that they shoot in My ass!"
They hold Me down those stupid thugs,
injecting Thorazine so fast!
They fail to grasp the true reasons
why I'm here: I wish they could see
that I can forgive their treasons,
if they would just believe in Me?
Once free again I'll be reborn,
lifted up in divine Image;
I'll end man's need for drugs and p*rn;
and prepare them for God's Marriage.
So hear My law and injunction,
the lost will burn without release
once they all know My dominion:
only then will My Rapture cease!
gentle as a summer rain,
never doubting, trusting each whisper
as the faded echoes fall soft
to the ground, where they vanish,
leaving only filthy mud, like rust
who curses metal’s glistening…
are these quiet lives,
bright and vibrant,
in hues of graceful sapphire,
rich gold and a scarlet who sighs …
as their wistful wings soar higher and higher.
peaceful as an autumn sun,
erasing the night, wittier than starlight,
she hesitates in the past, yesterday,
rising beneath her luminous smile,
so, after a while…
light heals the earth,
restoring her shadows with a new worth,
will she ever know the music of these blessings,
who silence the worst fear,
bring the soul a tender tear,
remind that tomorrow may never come…
while we are sometimes undone,
by the music of their soft crooning,
the beauty of their wings leaving.
quiet as that moment,
when snowflakes bless the land,
avenging winter’s repulsiveness,
with a friendly wonderful,
falling softly,
whispering praise and dancing,
crumbles of frozen laughter,
hastening through the milky skies,
reminding us all, how they fly…
soaring over the hills, the meadows,
revealing faith’s hidden treasures,
stirring up dreams,
silencing the night’s breath,
with a trembling hello,
expressing the joy inside the soul.
in the winds, in the trees,
on oak branches and in pine’s needles,
they sing and soar, enchanting,
like the moment, once sought –
soon gone, they fly on, fly on and on…
singing their song, chuckling to themselves,
because they know,
oh, yes they know… we are shocked
by the gift of their graceful praise,
praise of the One who created this day,
the One who gave them wings to escape,
the One who silenced all the fear in their heart,
with the knowing that, even as the wind’s blowing…
life continues on and they keep on singing their song,
with joy and hope, grace and love…
music sent down to us by God above!
no (apparent) rhyme nor reason
(satisfactorily) explains academic
disposition, ideally suited
(swiftly tailor made,
and harried styled)
unflattering venomous wicked xhenemy
(fill in choicest expletive) damn cruelest
"meanies" always in season
winter, spring, summer, or autumn,
psychological rabid
bullying and teas'n,
which only exacerbated
ma deathly coffin and wheeze'n.
Avenging beastly, eagerly,
and hungry knuckleheads, rip-snorting,
analogous to Doctor Zeus
characters, vis a vis stomped,
and trampled upon my wuss
self, who appeared as
a listless, passive, puss
see footing, and
timid complex edifice
christened Matthew Scott Harris,
who regularly got pushed,
shoved, and verbally gored
in utero potential quintessential
no salvation from Unitarian lord
ugly vicious wretched
insults liberally poured
(pre snapchat, instagram,
hash-tagged age) roared
increased spell of losing measured
necessary pridefulness scored
requisite susceptibility toward
brow beating, name
calling, plus tossed
brickbats staged early life, viz
psychological schizoid state courtesy
hateful nemesis within
corporeal lodge warred.
malevolent habitués received
permanent residency thence
"green lighted" status
since birth I cannot sense
sub billy understand
(near) total recall
particularly names
no matter offense
of classmates and/
or teacher's, hence
especially dumb
founding since defense
less "boy" did not
shine as a star student
as is if he (me)
took emotional absence.
plus to add insult
to injury, my mouth
stayed hermetically shut,
near invisibility designated nut
tin beat pluperfect
"scapegoat de jure,"
such intimidation found me
feeling thrashed in the gut
where (stellar) qualifications
only made cut
ting worse, (essentially attributed
to genetically inscribed
behaviors, characteristics,
habits, et cetera)
immediately designated yours truly
most puny, and
quietest convenient but
of any atheistic, ethnic,
and/or idiotic jokes.
War a
very easy to begin
Many decades to fight
Blood on the dance floor
Bullets tar tar tar, just like instruments
Bomb bom bom bom, like music
Bang Bang a speaker
Fire fire fire
Louder the leader
Commander
Army
Furiously avenging
At a sight
Of an
Enemy
Firing weapon
Weapon of
Hate and
Destruction
Destroying
To survive
Just to breath
in
Another
As
Sacrifice
for pain
Input
In you for
Your
quest
For
Power
Audacity
Do as
I say
Kill as
Much as
You can
Is that
A legacy
For the
Next Generation?
Generation
You claims
To protect
Just for
Selfish
Goals
How many more?
Lives to go
Refusal to
Go their way
Commander
without order?
Ordering without
Resolution
For healing?
Pains
Terrors
anguish
Bruises
Disaster
Hollering
Beasts
And more?
How dare you
Vibrate war
When you
Know
It cost
Sometime
Eternity
Ages
Generations
Passed
Does anything
Function
Absolutely
Amidst war?
God bless
Peacemakers?
Courageous
Without fear
Fear of dogs
Barking at
The wolf
afar
Coast
In the
Jungle
A sick
Lion
Goats
Can't
Match
Undisputed
Attributes
Roaring
In silence.
The winter winds moan among those forlorn monuments to death,
Marking the spots where brave men fell gasping their last breath.
Upon bleak Calhoun Hill where Seventh Cavalrymen gave their all,
Now lie 225 souls in hallowed graves awaiting Gabriel's call!
The battlefield that once echoed with the screams of dying men,
And the war cry of the Ogala, Sioux, Miniconjou and Cheyenne,
Now teems with the restless spirits of troopers and Indian braves,
Listlessly roving about the Little Big Horn, the gullies and the graves!
On that Sabbath day in June the piercing bullets, lance and arrows flew.
Avenging braves pounced upon hapless victims as they counted coup!
As the sun settles in the west, heard are bugles and phantom steeds are seen.
The moon rises and casts its mellow glow o'er that cold and eerie scene.
Captain Keogh's horse Comanche, the sole survivor, though badly bruised,
Can be heard plaintively neighing for its master, alone and confused.
The curses and cries of men are heard above the clash of tomahawk and steel.
The battle played again and again on that tragic stage seems so surreal!
Yellow Hair Custer, dashing yet impetuous, had made his final stand.
Not a soldier survived the carnage since the Indians held the upper hand!
It seems that these restless souls are ever searching in an endless quest,
Perhaps seeking a fallen comrade or, yes, for well-deserved eternal rest!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Marc Spectar is Moon Knight . . .
the traveler . . . the pathfinder . . . the defender
protecting and avenging the innocent
the son of a rabbi
with D.I.D.
(Dissociated Identity Disorder)
~he is actually a fictional Marvel Comic character,
who worked as a mercenary, until he was mortally injured and died
in the shadow of Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon ~
he was reborn . . . The Left Fist of Khonshu
to fight evil and defend all who travel at night
from vampires, from monsters and from super-assassins
Marc's alter ego Moon Knight does the fighting,
takes the punches, he is the one who spills the blood
wearing a white armored costume, well, sometimes
black and white, and sometimes all black
~but they are not alone
Marc has other alter egos, Steven Grant, billionaire businessman
Jake Lockley, the violent taxi driver, and Mr. Knight,
the suited detective and police consultant, and many more egos ~
trauma in his childhood resulted in the D.I.D
he hears the voices of his other identities
has spent some time in a mental hospital
sometimes, he chains himself to his bed at night
and it has be suggested he has brain damage
yet, he is a closed fist . . . made weapon
he is "The Left Fist of Khonshu" protecting the innocent
~ fighting evil with strength, combat, technology,
detective work, tolerance for pain, willpower and experience
with the help of his alter egos who gather the intel
he has died many times . . . but has be resurrected each time ~
. . . he likes his vodka, ice cold, and has a girlfriend too
a pretty normal guy . . . until Moon Knight
The Left Fist of Khonshu is needed . . .
__________________________
October 02, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/The Left Fist of Khonshu
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1491-758-02
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Moon Knight
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 10/18/2022
First Place
You left at the first flicker of dawn
as the pioneering rays of Sun
diluted the chaotic dark of night
and the morass of words exchanged.
I would have, if not for my dead legs
followed, at least crawled
but you had gone before, and returned.
Dragging my cold body toward the switches
I should have considered you lost,
but time is an endless breeze
that blows over the ghosts of steam
avenging that which our tempers kill,
and leaving in its wake, just the regret
of those two words that needn't have been said.
I should have considered you lost
even as my stomach rumbled in angst,
silenced by the cool dread of the sight
of the idle lemony shade on the doorway
without a singular shadow to break it
nor even your voice to let me know
I shall have you with me tonight.