Long Baulk Poems
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(The Spanish conquerors of the
Americas read out their legal
document, the "Requerimiento",
to the Indians. Failure to comply
meant the Spanish were free to
do what they wanted.)
Conquistadors in Vera Cruz
found themselves a radical ruse.
If pillaging was muy, muy lento,
they just whipped out Requerimiento.
Composed in fifteen seventeen,
this document was ultra-mean.
It won more scraps than Robert E. Lee,
was deadlier than DDT.
Suppose you met an Aztec mob
that wasn't happy to be robbed,
and far from handing on a platter
its gold and silver, wives and daughters,
was minded to contest the matter,
Requerimiento got unrolled.
In legal Latin, gooks were told
with lots of quid and quod and quaem,
exactly what was sought of them.
The royal writ was read aloud
to help the puzzled Aztec crowd.
So none may later look askance,
the dinks got every sporting chance.
All the Aztecs had to do
(clause forty-nine of section two)
was pay the pope an entry fee,
accept infallibility,
and send some gold to line his coffers.
Who could baulk at such an offer?
Clause fifty-eight - the Spanish king
must get his cut of Aztec bling.
They're hazy over "king" and "Spain"?
We'll have long decades to explain.
They don't respond? It simply means
we blow them all to smithereens.
The finer points can wait till later.
Non-compliance means they're traitors.
We've read the thing, so now we're free
of all responsibility
for theft or damage, flood or fire,
and if perchance it should transpire
that they don't dig what's going down,
why, take it up with Cross and Crown.
Thank God it's not like that today.
Before we step into the fray,
we tell them they're a "conflict zone",
and send in laser-guided drones.
If they accept their crude religion
is now a dead and pointless pigeon,
and take divorce and teenage moms,
then we won't use our cluster bombs.
There's other stuff here, on our list -
like Coca-Cola, lobbyists,
The Dukes of Hazzard, John McCain,
obesity and acid rain ...
at least we don't do like before,
and sell them, as we wade ashore
to occupy their ancient land,
some junk they'll never understand.
I awaken after said storm thrown weakened am I
In awe in wonderment as to where I espy
Fervent to silent as I witness this breathing space
As I slowly rise my tall in this seeing succulent heaven place
Barren beaches of gold amidst greened hue
Hearing cresting of thundering waves crashing true
As I start to look around in hungering thirsting cry
It's the time to ask myself as to where am I, sigh!
To a palm leafy avenue I take to a rest
As I contemplate such wonder in tiring drained zest
I awaken to my belongings and to my belongings saved
For what I had on this journey, caught waves now waved
Thinking thoughts caught, then cast like the waves brought
So many like the drifting bringing waves, leave me naught
Contemplation runs wild as to where my wanting's declare
Recalling looking around, was it purely saved heaven stare
I know it's time to address the needing's if I'm to be found
With unknown known bravado in my mind has to be sound
As I look around me seeing what simply surrounds be
My time is to be taken to the accommodation of me, thee
Having searched seeked determined and decided such
In amazement abound, it's all in bountiful clutch
Coconut and their palms grace me shelter and food
Berries I dare to taste, feeding me fishing I should
Fresh water apart the nuts in rainy filled capture
I'm feeling Crusoe, of reading book stature
Sleeping I do soundly to the caressing waved shores
Whilst burning embers deter these petulant scores
Creatures of difference with no accountable stockabilty
Deem to me useless, with no accountability
It's the plantation that offers survivable quantities
That feed fuel my wanting's reaching inevitability
As days turn to weeks I'm in possible addressed talk
Not knowing the many creatures, in shyness I baulk
As weeks turn to months, and months into years
My name is Robinson, soon I'll share these tears for fears.
Married life was easy and I dearly loved my wife
We thought about the next step we would take
She brought up having children, and adding to our life
We never thought could be a huge mistake :)
The sickness started early, no meal would stay down
The cramps could make it difficult to walk
Her face would be a thundercloud, never even seen her frown
Now asking her to dance would make her baulk
The end of the first trimester, time to go and see the Doc
She said the Ultrasound's more painful than a birth
Of course she had never had a baby, okay for her to mock
The main thing that concerned her was her girth
As time went on I noticed that she stood up very straight
Maybe even sort of was bent back
When we were going somewhere, we were mostly late
I think we were regarded as quite slack
Then from out of nowhere, there is water running down
Started as a trickle then a flood
For Pete's sake get the car out, it is time to go to town
She waited on the grass, it turned to mud
I charged into the hospital, but left her in the car
I could feel the panic start to reign
Just fill out these forms young man, you are not the star
Then go back out to your car again
I went back out to get her, I took a chair with wheels
By now it was a job to get her in
I tried to reassure her, you look better that it feels
I got a dirty look, there was no grin
She's lying in the bed and has me in a grip of death
The look could sure transform me into stone
As if the cause was down to me, and with her dying breath
She would completely tear my heart out with a moan
Nurse says, " the little one is coming, I can see the head"
Won't be too long now and all is done
I didn't hear a single word, passed out on another bed
From simple plans, the Complications come
My wife and I discussed each other,
as if we’re mirrors talking back,
and home truths kind of struck a chord
about some body parts gone slack.
I never thought about my double chin,
and what my stomach had become …
I found it doesn’t pay to comment,
about the size of someone’s bum.
So once the air had thawed a mite
and the facts had been accepted,
we both agreed there is that need
for certain foods to be rejected.
No more potato chips and bacon,
and no more ice cream for the soul;
salami, biscuits, gone forever …
we’re living from the salad bowl.
Of course diet must be supplemented,
to help decrease one’s flabby side.
Some may run and some may row,
and some may buy a bike and ride,
but for a couple who thrived on neglect,
this exercising made us baulk,
it all seemed far too strenuous,
so we decided we’d just walk.
Now we chose a public park to stroll
along the paths between the grass,
and we met so many just like us
who warmly greet us walking past.
One morn I caught a fleeting glance,
of a hunched up bloke sat on a seat
who looked a bit like Jimmy Cooper,
a bloke I used to often meet.
And I know this walking caper
for some days near took me breath,
and I might have wheezed a tiny bit,
but I have never looked like death.
Jimmy’s face is drawn and gray,
and when he spoke he did refer
to a dilemma with his ma-in-law
and the crisis that he has with her.
I tried to humour Jimmy just a tad
about the antics of us blokes,
“Most find trouble with their ma-in-law
that’s why we make up all those jokes.”
But Jimmy’s having none of this,
and then he sniveled in dismay
“Some might bicker with their ma-in-law
but don’t get them pregnant do they?”
From far away past where silent orbs
Danced to rhythms of unknown forces forging
Newer niches in cloud then soil then rock,
Smouldering, sizzling silently as time tic toc
Ebbed away, watching life on some lifeless rock surging,
To this day when we dance to the rhythm of Forbes,
The moon and sun in divine love urging
Have danced about the earth: light source upon a rock,
Bringing life to earth when the sullen clock
Calls out the grim owl, vile wolf, and sturdy sturgeon
Through the silent night nobody else disturbs,
Locked in eternal enthralment, watching the dark dungeon
Earth would be but for the sun- or moonlight it absorbs.
Moonlight from sunlight like new groom and virgin
Locked in an embrace older than Eden’s first baulk,
But sealed forever to work on this blue rock;
Bringing light to life on earth at dawn then dusk, merging
Efforts: sun casts its beams on daytime suburbs
But when the earth turns as if to shun its scourging,
That age old mission bound to fail as dusk struck
Finds new life in the passive glitter on that battered rock,
The partner playing its part, for so it was from the first forging.
From far away past, as far back as the silent space orbs,
The sun and moon in sublime love urging.
Have danced about and cast shadows out of this rock
And so it should be, for when one’s gone and you lose the rock
Foundation of the union, then is there but darkness and dirge in
The picture, and the survivor is just a lifeless rock listening for hope in the orbs.
(c)Nyonglema
On wooded land and open water, the gale struck hard
Plucking fallen twigs and flowers and leaves and the unwary bird
Caught unawares, a family of cranes about five or six in number
Took hastily to flight from an island and were hurled across the water
Violently shaken from slumber, the trees awoke
And as they swayed in frenzy, thick branches snapped and broke
Still ignoring my instincts, I continued to walk
But the fury of the storm made me inwardly baulk
The greatest dangers posed were however man-made
They were live power lines on poles, strung overhead
And loose metal roofing of shanties rattling nearby
Poised to ride the storm, razing as they would fly
With heart pounding as the wind raged, I quickened my pace
Half blinded and with hair tousled, as the dust stung my face
I could see the rain as it approached, fast across the lake
But despite the extended canopy above, I was soon dripping wet
Whipped by the wind, the rain lashed hard
My neighbourhood was deserted, not a soul stirred
All had taken refuge – even the stray dogs and cattle
As lightning flashed and thunder cracked and windows shuddered and rattled
With wary eyes for falling debris, I walked the middle road
Fearful of lightning strikes stabbing earth like a jagged sword
In an alley, off the road, a glass pane fell and shattered
As the relentless storm raged on, reaching home was all that mattered
The graveyard is brighter than usual this night
With snow tinted blue in the full moon’s light
He climbs from his grave for his Halloween walk
But cloven hoof-prints in the snow make him baulk
For right here and now on this All Hallows’ eve
Though October snow he can see and believe
He lingers aghast on that snow covered floor
Where two more hoof-prints make a tally of four
He puts down his head and it’s face is irate
As it studies the hoof-prints in snow by the gate
This night he must wander the graveyard alone
So four cloven hoof-prints he shall not condone
Two devils or maybe two mischievous imps
Cavorting and prancing like demonic chimps
But where are those two tiny demons residing
A holly bush moves, is that where they’re hiding?
Retrieving his head which he holds by its hair
He asks in a guttural voice, “Who be there?”
First comes a grunt then the mist of a breath
But no human breathes when he be in death
The juice of red berries or blood of the dead
Whatever it be it be splattered and red
He glares at those dark crimson stains in the snow
and says, “If you’ve eaten your fill you must go.”
Out from the holly a dark shadow moves
The corpse makes a count of the four cloven hooves
He says, “I’m the one who must make this night gory
So, Rudolph, you’re early, get out of my story.”
Thick gravy mud incessantly pulling at my boots,
Sucking and squelching it’s distaste at its failure with each step I evade its clutches,
Brown hail flying in all directions ripping into flesh and taking eyes,
Ears reverberating with the excruciating din of falling shells,
Accompanied with the desperate screams of my comrades.
Like hells orchestra,
Low rumbles culminating in shrieking sopranos,
Piercing, Deafening,
It’s very lack of percussion spreads fear throughout the ranks,
Through it all there comes a sinister silence,
The true calm before the next storm,
Medics being screamed for in every direction,
Instructions being bellowed to grasp some pathetic sense of order,
In this chaotic pandemonium we push on without hope,
Following orders,
The crescendo of destruction starts again,
Louder, Angrier,
The poetic lunacy of dying in vain,
Our last moments played out like some poorly written depraved play,
Cannon fodder,
Our own remains serving as the uneven carpet of sickly maroon within our trench,
The smell so powerful that I baulk,
Eyes constantly stinging and streaming,
All my senses being flayed in unison,
This is the price we pay for your freedom,
This is the truth of what we endure,
So many deserving so much yet left with so little,
Lest we forget,
Lest we forget.
Lest we forget.
Money was getting extremely tight
And jobs in town were few
McGee was out of work for a while
But his faith in God was true
McGee was often seen
On his front porch praying loud
By his atheistic neighbor
Who was sure and quick and proud
He daily thanked The Good Lord
While counting on his rosary
For his wife, his family, and his friends
Then humbly asked for some groceries
“There is no God” the neighbor baulk
“McGee is just a fool,
"But I have a scheme to end his dream
And can do it, without being cruel "
So the neighbor went off on a shopping spree
Down at the market in town
Then returned with bags of groceries
On McGee’s porch, set them down
Then he hid himself, behind a bush
And waited for McGee to come out
And when he did, McGee saw the food
And Praised the Lord with a shout
But the neighbor appeared from where he hid
And claimed credit for buying the food
Thinking McGee would have to admit
That God was merely a ruse
When McGee heard the neighbor,
He lifted the bags, then sported a crooked grin
Winked at the sky and spoke to The lord
As he turn to the door going in
You not only got me grocery’s, My Lord
For which I thank you each day
I see you're Mighty clever too
For making the devil pay
Villanelle: Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
Whether in deference to the past’s foiled efforts
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock
Rye clavicus purpurea our joints dislock
Till the soil of our conscience deeper than roots
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
Eastern sky pyrotechnics rude rockets won’t mock
In deference to witches’ brews sharp mandrake roots
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock
Infernal fires rage on in limbs of mad rock
Gargled warnings in the larvae spouting cheroots
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
Is that Bosch who will St Anthony’s fall not baulk
Memories of charred instant byres turned to soots
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock
Took thirteen point eight billion years to make a lark
How many to buy back twenty-one eight trillion debts
Everything takes time: take not time by the forelock
The tingling ergot fires our desires do unlock
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017