Long Bidders Poems
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She flinches, shudders as chains tug at her flesh
The ruthless slave trader and rapist whispers to the auctioneer
And instinctively she knows that it is her turn to be sold.
The noise heightens, her eyes focus on a kind face in the crowd.
A well dressed man with a curly mustache wearing a black a top hat
His expensive suit quite obvious as he moves deliberately through the crowd
He approaches the platform and takes the slave trader aside
As the bidders become raucous, jostling and argument ensue
Her eyes trail the well dressed man with the curly mustache
As he haggles with the ruthless slave trader
Again, looking up towards the sky once more, she day dreams
Her Mama had been sold some time ago, never to be seen again.
And as she recalls the soft murmuring words of comfort
Tears fall easily from ebony eyes rolling down her face.
Then she heard a voice whisper, “Don’t cry.” “Don’t cry, Heddie”.
I am here. I am with you. And wherever you go, I will go with you.
The road will be treacherous and mighty long. This road will be hard, the
Journey, long. Yet you will be resilient. You will endure and you will be strong!
Today, I bring you a gift for all your days and beyond. The gift of song!
May your soul find rest when you sing. In joy or sorrow, trials and trouble, worship
And praise, you will sing and your spirit will ascend to God’s throne of grace.”
In that moment the chains that shackled hands and feet fell loudly onto the block
(That was the beginning of a new life for Heddie. The well dressed man with
The kind eyes rescued Heddie and the others that day. As the story about her great
Grand mother is told to her grandchildren sitting at her feet, they all realize that the blessing
which was given eons ago as Heddie stood on the auction block at twelve had been passed
forward to the present generation. They are the descendants of Heddie and the well dressed
gentleman who had moved to upstate New York where he married Heddie and gave the
slaves their freedom.)
This is written in celebration of "Black History" Month and in collaboration with Jimmy
Matthew Anderson
Form:
A BALLAD TO THE ANCESTORS
Like ripened fruits plucked from a flourishing tree,
They were stolen from a lush paradise garden;
A self sustained dwelling having no need of a warden;
A beautiful paradise where all could work and live free;
But the thieves of the sea came, taking them to the shore.
Cabled towed neck to neck; waist shackled like others before.
They were stacked in ship bellies reeking with death, feces and pee.
God please let their souls’ survival spirit always abide within me?
Though many of our ancestors chose the freedom of death
Over the slavery of life, others chose for one reason or another,
To survive the Middle Passage in hope of returning to the home they left;
These arrived as chained exotic human cargo for trade and barter.
From sea ships’ corrals to auction blocks, they were bought and sold.
Skilled craftsmen they were—intelligence secret—skills used later to get free;
Fooling bidders believing the dumb beasts were well worth their weight in gold.
Oh God I pray their souls’ survival spirit will always abide within me.
Four hundred years of bloody slaving labor from can see to can’t see—
Our ancestors—bonded—free fodder fueling a peculiar institution
In which one had to be fully white in order to really be free.
And all blacks—objects of pleasure for all whites’ ravenous satisfaction.
The black woman—fertile young and old—became its chief breeder.
For pleasure or profit—fertile mother of bastards she was branded to be.
For all children, black, mulatto or white, the black breast was the leaking feeder.
God please allow their souls’ survival spirit to always abide within me?
Yes, through skills, blood, sweat and tears, our ancestors learned to prevail;
Leaving us here still able to struggle and fearlessly fight to be totally free.
With the undying spirit of our ancestors’ audacious faith and hope, we will not fail;
For God has decreed their souls’ survival spirit to always abide within you and me.
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Commodities.
Traded as rapidly as futures,
sold to bidders,
merchants of misery,
bought and herded,
into cattle-cars, vans,
containers sailing,
on the seven open seas.
Women, men,
girls, boys,
auctioned into servitude,
stolen lives,
extinguished families,
for,
the cheap labour market needs to be fed,
an insatiable being desiring young flesh,
virgins above all,
the high-end product for high-street tastes.
Stock-markets fluctuate,
beaming their hieroglyphics to the world,
derivatives and bonds and those bonded,
into sweaty, damp,
vermin-infested factories,
stitching,
always stitching,
that prized designer shoe.
Have we looked into those eyes,
deadened by pain,
the light long gone,
with mouths sewed shut,
all innocence plundered?
Girls, women, raped,
again
&
again
&
again,
till cold numb sockets stare back at you,
bodies scarred by cigarette burns,
whippings,
slaps and bites,
cocks and fingers.
The market never sleeps,
neither do the traders,
willing buyers procuring merchandise,
haggling over flesh and bone and being.
Wounds deep, raw,
oozing pus and blood.
Wounds deeper still,
the slaughtering of souls,
daughters and sons bartered,
flung from stolen childhoods,
into the bowels of a living hell.
Look into those eyes,
look straight into them.
Do not flinch,
do not avert your gaze.
Look into those eyes,
staring back at you,
asking,
pleading,
imploring,
hoping for death,
wishing numbness,
as the ****ing continues.
I'm not culpable, I say to you,
and neither are you,
or him or her,
but,
we are silent savages,
mute rapists,
quiet molesters.
We are culpable,
our inaction condemns us.
We are culpable,
and so are you,
and,
I,
and him,
and her too.
Form:
His underbelly is soft but please don't push his buttons
He looks rather docile if you simply leave him alone
Feeds on leaves and fruit and won't kill if you're tame
And respect the elegant majesty that treads firmly on grass
If treated correctly and let him be he is a friendly companion
He looks like a Unicorn adorned with a gregarious nose
Eats what nature has given only as much as he needs
Has few 'natural' predators other than human creatures
Who misinterpret their task on this planet as unruly force
And slay for fun or trophy hunting and belligerent pounce
Unlike Pinocchio he has two spikes a long and a short one
To use for foraging digging up water and breaking branches
But when threatened protects family kind with true honesty
Lowers his snout to the ground and locks intimidating horns
Charges only in self-defence and attacks as a last resort only
I wish I and my fellow *****sapiens comrades would copy
Such moral correctness rather than killing unneeded prey
Whereas rhinos use upright posture and magnificent skills
For sexual prowess and marking their own territorial ground
We grind their sharp body parts into aphrodisiacs myths
Sell to high bidders and pretend such behaviour is normal
Discard their mutilated bodies in a landscape of terror and
Wonder why sometimes they pierce in just retaliation
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
And I do not wish my prominent bits on somebody's plate
21st December 2019
GOOD AFTERNOON
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN
BOYS AND GIRLS.
WELCOME...
TO THE WORLD OF
TRANSHUMANISM.
I AM YOUR HOST
THE DAPPER RING MASTER.
AND THIS...
IS THE WORLD OF
TRANSHUMANISM
AND LIVING DISASTERS.
A WORLD WHERE YOU...
ARE NO LONGER WHO
YOU THINK YOU ARE.
A WORLD WHERE
YOU...
ARE NO LONGER WHAT
YOU THINK YOU ARE.
WELCOME....
TO A LIVING FANTASY...
CREATED BY SCIENCE
FOR THE PLEASURE OF THE
RULING PSYCHOPATHS.
A WORLD WHERE YOU...
ARE NO LONGER
IN CONTROL
OF YOUR PHYSICAL
MENTAL OR
EMOTIONAL BEING.
WE CONTROL YOUR
LAUGHTER...
WE CONTROL YOUR TEARS.
WE CONTROL YOUR HYSTERIA
WE CONTROL YOUR FEARS.
YOU ARE NO LONGER MEN.
YOU ARE NO LONGER WOMEN.
YOU ARE NO LONGER BEINGS.
YOU ARE...
CREATURA....
THE GREATEST SCIENTIFIC
EXPERIMENT CONDUCTED
AND REALIZED.
FANTASIES...
OF THE PAYING ELITE.
SLAVES TO HIGHEST BIDDERS.
YOU ARE NOW THE PROPERTY
OF A PROUD NEW OWNERS
IN A WORLD WHERE CRIMES
GO UNPUNISHED.
IN A WORLD WHERE FREEDOMS
RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES
ARE BOUGHT AND SOLD.
YOU VOTED IN FAVOR
OF SOCIALISM.
YOU BEGGED TO BE
CONTROLLED
WELCOME TO MY HOUSE
OF HORRORS.
YOU'RE
UNDER MIND CONTROL.
BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU
WISH FOR.
THIS IS JUST A POEM.
CAUTION: ALL YOU
HALLOWEENERS...
DON'T LISTEN TO ANY
GNOMES.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
MAHAHAHAHA....
Michael E. Harris
10252021
The excavators are all out, digging deeper into my soul
Scavenging to find the last remains of gems, oil or gold
My life is put aside, as they only search things of worth
With all my resources of any value taken from my earth
Every precious element, from within my body is sucked
Every morsel of emotion, as from my rich heart plucked
My eyes blackened, with my emotions turning to stone
As gone are all the things, that were only to me known
I stripped of all reason, my thoughts turning cold as ice
There the cutters into my memories, continue to splice
Death would seem more amicable if only it was allowed
No part of me was left, nothing sacred left un-ploughed
As precious elements sold, to the highest bidders found
And my life forces turning into ashes I fall to the ground
I but lost to the dust that you down tread with your feet
Lived in my own defiance but lost out to my own defeat
Thus all the angels lamented and the heavens did weep
Gone am I as in forgotten, but my soul never does sleep
War brings out your worst enemies other than your foe
As your aiders reap your wealth before they leave to go
You left my people in the sidewalks without any shame
My nation made of people more worthy than your gain
As I reminisced on my soul stolen, then so cheaply sold
Little did you know, you only stole what was, fool’s gold
pitter
patter
goes the
rain
upon
the roofs
upon the
streets
upon the
heads
of us all
walking
in the
west
to our
nearest
grocery
store or
convenient
store
with our
common
human
thirst
coming
from the
daily
grind, yet
our own
exertion
here is
absolutely
nothing
like that of
the people
in the lands
far far away,
whose
resources we
have become
experts
at squeezing
every last drop
into our cars
into our products
into our lives
& now back into
our
bodies
as we take the
last refuge---that
very nectar of
life which keeps
all of us humans
trucking here on
this planet---
water.
as bottled water
runs more expensive than
gasoline,
coca-cola &
nestle (to name
a couple) start to build “the next
empire”---one in which
fresh water
gets sucked up from wherever it
naturally flows
& pumped into tankers
owned by private companies
which will
divvy up the goods to the highest
bidders
in the near future.
so to the people of the third world---
whose most valued natural resource,
of which whom some walk
miles to get every day---
we of the
west,
we of the 1st world,
raise our middle fingers up with both hands in
tandem
shouting
“good luck, suckers!
we welcome your business in the future---
be it selling you bottled water or
cemetery plots, coffins, urns, and
shovels.”
I remember the day we first met
Those pinkish cheek. How can I forget?
Like flowers in spring that bloom
I heard my heart beat like drum, boom!
Together we climbed the highest hill
Together we shared each others chill
Everyday i felt like we're in paradise
Each day of my life you gave me surprise
When i was sick, you never left
Through thick and thin, you never rest
Through all the sorrows and pains
You held my hand, help me kept movin'
You never gave up, never surrender
Stayed by my side you made me better
Gave me your love unconditionally
Always there enlighten my way
You're the brightest stars i looked upon
The shadow that covered me from the sun
Thunders, storms and even tsunami
Nothing departed us still you and me
Many years passed, many dawn and dusk
Your sweet smile and love? No need to ask
Thank you god for this wonderful blessing
The man of my life i had been longing
The precious one i have ever hold
Highest bidders or kings can't afford
Each moment I treasured and cherished
The warmth of your love never ended
Forever valued this gift that i have
Forever kept and locked it in my heart!
by: Leila Mijares
3/23/12
(This poem is heartily dedicated to Arthur John Gruvman from your ever loving wife Mimi)
I hear the echo, sharp and clear,
The auctioneer draws bidders near.
“One... two...” — my heartbeat skips a beat,
My dreams laid bare beneath their feet.
The years I toiled, the nights I lost,
Now measured out, now coldly tossed.
My labor sold in shouting calls,
Reduced to debt on auction walls.
I left my job, I chased the sun,
Believed in freedom, thought I’d won.
To build a life, to stand up tall,
To feed my kin, and have it all.
But storms rolled in, the markets died,
The people scraped, the spenders cried.
The tills grew quiet, the shelves stayed full,
And every cent was stretched and pulled.
My lender came — a bitter guest,
With papers drawn and no request.
No helping hand, no softened word,
Just legal threats and warnings heard.
Each day I watch the deadline near,
I taste regret, I swallow fear.
I sought out friends, but none could stay
They turned their hearts and walked away.
The third knock comes — a final call,
I brace myself to lose it all.
But though no man will lift me high,
I cast my hopes beyond the sky.
If help won’t come from flesh and bone,
Then God, don’t leave me here alone.
Before the gavel seals my fate,
I’ll trust in You — though help comes late.