Long Batten Poems
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Lately my mantennae are twitching more than usual, folks.
The prophecies are surely uncloaking.
Time to batten down the hatches.
A potent darkness is approaching the front doorstep.
Clutch your loved ones to your sunken chest.
It's nearly midnight; the world is on full tilt.
Nuclear pinballs ricocheting off bent flippers.
Madmen will never lead anything into battle.
They'll just push a button to begin the cleanse,
The darkness wants to speed up the blender of Armageddon.
In the meantime, enjoy the day.
Have a lick of your favorite ice cream.
Kick back and watch the ultimate fireworks display.
Shut Up!
Shut up the hurricane shutters!
There's a storm that is ready to blow.
Batten down all the hatches!
Mother nature is angry, don't you know?
There's a man on the watch tower
and he's signalling to the boats in the harbor.
There are squalls on the horizon,
and he doesn't want you to go.
Keep your prayers close beside you.
Keep your loved ones by your side.
Settle all scores that divide you.
Pray for forgiveness, and for strength to abide.
Paint the front doors that judgement pass over.
Burn the candles that welcomes the Prince of Peace.
You can see the four horsemen come riding.
There is no shelter from His wrath to hide.
The mockers will taunt you,
as Noah had to endure.
Your obedience is your love,
and in faith, your salvation is assured.
When finally the seas die back.
And the armies of evil are drowned in the murk,
A ray of light like a dove will descend on you,
and everlasting paradise will be secured.
by Martin Braun
3/17/2024
Rise to the occasion of the weather
Inform the storm of cruel intentions
Lift your eyes above tsunami fury
Take back the waves you came in on
Make earthquakes miracles that move
Shake hands with disaster for awhile
Love your neighbor as yourself in puddles
Play in the mud of love before it dries
Take that which you were born with
Leave volcanoes to their ashes gray
Stay quiet in the lava beds of dawn
Leave disasters to their own devices
Look at asteroids but do not touch
Take a twister with a turn of hurricane
Call in the morning if things should change
Tell the rain to come and go away
Listen to the laughter as it thunders
Watch clouds steal water from the lake
Evaporate before you take another breath
Use a light switch in the sky
Turn the sun off if it gets too high
Keep your distance as life rolls in
Take the next wave out of misery
Make a wish. It is your turn to hide
Die but only if you have to in the tide
Be smart and batten down the hatches
Be kind to lightning. It could strike back in kind.
Return to heavy, layered clothes
Purple lips and frozen toes
One last breath before it snows
Loathsome precipitation
The land now strewn with slippery patches
Bye the wood stove, extra matches
Time to batten down the hatches
Human hibernation
The months meander, oh so slow
The cold impedes the rivers flow
The flowers weep, and wait to grow
I should be on vacation
There is some good, I do suppose
Snow topped trees in splendid rows
And all mosquitoes surely froze
Yet I'm filled with anticipation
For summer reveals my sunny side
I rub my eyes and step outside
To walk bare foot through turning tide
Still six more months of frustration
FLEEING IRMA
spotlight moon, full, like an Old Testament cloud, leading
Floridians forth, not into the desert, but away from the wrath
of Irma. bumper to bumper, neighbors from pilot to caboose,
illuminated in each other’s flood beams. testiness and pride
put aside, as fleeing cars, in camaraderie, brave the calm
before the storm. like the Israelites, they leave behind the
homes they know, put themselves in the hands of God. many
have family and friends north of their beloved peninsula,
an unintended visit, a warm haven, not a picnic nor a vacation,
but each pulls themselves up, for our Southern neighbors
are not of the craven sort. those who choose to live near the sea,
with its beauty and fortitude, know how to batten down the hatches.
hammocks left behind will tangle, and hug palm trees, suffering
the loss of their occupants. hotels, with never ending vacationers,
takes a much needed rest. God believes in rest, sometimes
a seven year sabbath, even when the soul forgets its place. we
pray, even north of the path, in stillness, we must, in gratitude,
never taking for granted, lest we too find ourselves seeking solace
elsewhere. godspeed our tanned Peninsula friends. godspeed
and bless, with safety, tenacity, and love as we reel you in.
9/8/2017
(To be sang to the tune of
"Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen)
Here's a wee warning.
Eowyn is on his way.
He'll blast round the UK.
So now batten down the hatches.
Lock up your house.
Close all curtains now
And hide!
We are just human.
They are the elements...
Dark clouded skies
Wind is strong
Rain will batter
All day long.
We need our shelter
Coz otherwise we'll all be blown away!
Like debris.
Warning!
There's a red alert.
All the gusts that travel past
May be a hundred miles fast.
Warning!
Pets need protection.
We don't want our animals to fly!
Hours!
That's how long.
There will be damage.
Be aware that fences aren't as rooted as trees!
Make sure you stay inside.
Any trips can wait.
Make sure you stay inside.
Snuggle up, keep cozy -
Stay safe!
I thought it's alright when he skips the talking;
Getting hot, and then boiling over promptly.
And it's alright; he won't put me in a coffin;
I'm not dead, I was just unconscious.
I thought it's alright that he never tried to understand;
I'm just confusing and shouldn't think someone could give a damn.
I thought it's my fault that all of this happened,
But I never did anything that should have left my skin blackened.
It's not because of my actions or personality that you're so violent;
And yeah - it didn't help all the times I went silent.
I should have stood up for myself, maybe I should have told you "We're done";
I should have been stronger; decided to pack my things and just run.
I can't blame myself for you being so Goddamn scary;
Because love shouldn't come with so much fear to carry.
I can't keep thinking it's always my fault when this happens;
I can't believe you'll have my back or be my batten.
I'm terrified of not knowing who I am without you;
But nothing is scarier than the way your anger grew.
And it might feel like I'm dying but I need to help me;
And that means I cannot keep living here on my knees.
And it's alright because I know eventually I can be okay;
And I can mend all the parts of me I let get so frayed.
And I know eventually I'm going to get away;
But right now I'll focus on surviving today.
There’s a storm on the way, that will deliver a blow
No travel is advised, and it’s not because of snow
Visibility will be impacted so you better hunker down
It’s going to bring a flood, please try not to drown
You need to be prepared, so check your emergency kits
Replenish your batteries and make sure your life vest still fits
Batten down the hatches and furl your sail
Hold on tight, it’s going to be a fierce gale
You can weather this storm if you know what to do
Listen for the message that will help get you through
It’s going to hit really hard and it will hit very fast
This will not be the first and it won’t be the last
There are many storms of life that will cause a fuss
Pay attention to the exits and where you sit on the bus
If you choose the right captain, then you’ll make out alright
He will protect you from the storm and guide you through the night
Said the indigenous people of their land,
"Our Lord,
Since time started we lived here,
before prophets and their offsprings.
We built sanctuaries and prayer houses.
Our Lord,
today like never before,
we are under siege
as suffering invades our homes,
steal our sons,
silently rape our daughters,
and imprisons our men.
Our Lord,
when will you end this siege,
this carnage,
this destruction,
this inhumanity.
Stop the collective effort by mighty nations
to suppress our people.
Do we not show solitude in prayer to you?"
Do we not show humility,
to those who seek our brotherly feelings?
Yet these evil outbursts and suppressing efforts to batten us down
keep us enslaved within new walls in our lands,
of ancient times,
which we had never forsaken.
Our Lord,
Four thousand years back,
we took in their father Abraham,
treated him with love and kindness in our homes
and when he wandered off,
raised his children as ours.
Do you not see how they repay us?
With evil upon evil,
Our Lord,
We beseech thee,
free Palestine and the Palestinian people from this siege.
© Al. Juman The "said" Poet 6/29/2016
-'
-,
It is not my intention
to discriminate against anyone
by race, sex or religion
I write human err
Social Security Electronic Deposit ruff lee = A Dog Send!
Node out if Trump
pad hiz way...
this scrivener would
batten down in skidrow
with the missus,
the latter who would veto
such misery, none
the less, she would
most likely experience
a sense of helplessness too,
which poetic title just came
to mum mind, cuz panic
stricken thoughts rue
asper what if that figurative
wellspring of government
small largesse
(electronically deposited
beginning of each month)
dried up sue
sink lee forcing me out
onto the brutally cold
bleak domain queue
wing up to the next
available steaming manhole
sink or mebbe best firm
me tug hoe to Peru
walking all the
way there (devoid
of money, would disallow
choice to drive or access
public transit), ooh
such hardship would
constitute an offal
spell, which more
likely, would find me
dead aah with new
more hardship,
(yea of corpse
this chap joking,
but gallows hue
more about cease
sing to exists),
but forced at the
mercy of teenage mew
ninja turtles, or
worse...stuck in rat
infested hole in wall
smelling like a loo
hmm...juiced perhaps
rapping on the door
of a Synagogue, could allow
admittance for this
enthusiastic, basic atheistic
Unitarian, though of Jew
whoosh heritage,
though aye knew
nary a whit aboot Semitic culture,
I maze well high tail north
in search for cold
storage in an igloo
calling out across the
miles of frozen tundra
"YOU HOO...LUCY?...DESI?...
...ANY BODY HOME?" when
of course irritable bowel
syndrome kicks in putting
cramp on me glue
tee us maximus. finding
yours truly to ejaculate a stronger
expletive than "FOO,"
which utterance does absolutely
nothing to remedy, thus...
imagine this poet stranded in
the middle of nowhere
with mush aboot doo doo
on my mind, and/or
same in his pants!