Long Blatantly Poems
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Apostle Matthew encountered...
artist, dragon and gangster extraordinaire
Written September ninth,
two thousand and twenty one.
Reposted exactly three years later.
Here at 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Actually all three people
linkedin to each other courtesy
Dissociative Identity Disorder
(Multiple Personality Disorder).
Wiccan up to mystical alien way
I raptly listened as she didst soothsay
scanned -- din heavy yen reference
about paganistic folkloric history
regarding Sweden and Oslo (also) Norway.
The missus dubbed
aforementioned young gal "curvy girl,"
a zaftig smart young woman
super talented self taught herself
to draw, sketch, and paint.
Only unmarried millennial men need apply,
perhaps someone who hails from buckeye
state - ideally above average
humorous gallivanting fellow
plus somewhat meshuggeneh cockeye
Louie garden variety
wealthy eccentric recluse
who doth blatantly defy
establishmentarian paradigm
you rarely espy,
cause he stays sequestered
about dozen doors down
from (femme fatale) ha
said alluded to chick named
three faces of
eve vent jewel one named Jen Fry
easy on the eyes
courtesy me, a generic guy,
who experienced amicable chat
referencing aforementioned lass
the first encounter with her
found yours truly saying "hi"
devoid of ulterior motives
only casual acquaintanceship did I imply
cuz even if this former bachelor
(got married twenty fifth of July
nineteen hundred and ninety six)
hypothetically decoupled,
cuz the age difference between us
quite substantial qua aging baby boomer
born two years after Bridge
over the River Kwai
filmed - then rocked to sleep
courtesy Brahms lullaby
if fain to sire offspring with lass
(young enough to be my daughter)
kiddos would witness their papa to mummify.
Our friendly communication
peppered with structures of silence
coasted along with zest
and dialed up quite lathered dialogue
betwixt us I do attest
mutual comfort level quickly established
between yours truly
and said attractive beefy babe,
who possessed killer thunder thighs
shaking the entire firmament.
How can a Lawyer defend
The undefendable?
How many times can you bend the truth
When is the truth unbendable?
How can a Lawyer look the Judge in the eye?
And blatantly lie,
It is not commendable.
It is difficult for the truth to understand,
Why?
Is the Lawyer guilty too?
Stating that the truth is another lie
It makes one wonder about the law,
What were the rules made for,
Not to be broken, that's for sure.
When did the truth become a lie?
In court the other day.
A lawyer said this could be so
As he brushed the truth away.
I did say, "Lawyer."
Although I found it inconceivable
When a respected man of the law
States lies, and the truth is the same,
Unbelievable.
You're Not Welcome Here
When you go to meet your maker, and He says, " How Do You Do?"
Then He says, quite sternly...
"Just...Close Your Mouth...I Know Men Just Like You!"
Whenever you saw a snowflake fall or a twinkle in an eye...
You were being given a chance to become a better guy.
Although, it severely pains me, you never found your way.
And now I must tell you...
Turn Around and Go...the other way.
For you are being punished, for all you have lied to, hurt, used, and taken advantage of.
And most of all for the Innocent that you have blatantly, disregarded.
With horrendous spite and malice, with a smile upon your face.
For they are the True Innocent in the Totality of Life.
Don't think that you can say anything, that I may want to hear.
For I know you far better than anyone could, even more than you think you know yourself.
Your cheating, lying, using, ways are what Banishes you from here.
So turn around and start walking...
Down each and every stair.
And you need to just remember.
Your kind is...
Not Welcomed here...
Justice howls like barking dogs chasing down the hollow street
Justice flows the same way blood gushes down his trembling feet
Justice echoes blatantly through woodlands and valleys
Ringing upon roof tops progressing door to door
And crying out loud.
Justice weeps for innocent children
Children who have been robbed of their dazzling youth
Children whose lives have been taken too soon.
Justice sings a solemn tune, a tune without a rhythm
A tune that only the victims can sing.
Justice mourns for mothers and fathers
Mothers who have been waiting for their daughters
Waiting for their daughters to reunite but they are far out of sight.
Justice wails desperately for her suffocating son
A desperation that we all could hear
A plea for mercy as he gasps for breath.
Justice marching in the street,
Marching from east to west
Marching from north to south.
Justice uncovering lies and rumors
Stripping them of their abusive power
and exposing cruel, mean-spirited perpetrators.
Justice pounds on the door of the city
A city whose inhabitants are cold as charity
Exchanging popsicles for ice
And eluding justice in broad daylight.
Justice blaze in the air for broken women,
Women who have been raped, murdered and abused
Women who have been openly harassed and accused
Justice beckons to the heart of the shattered city
for liberation from this awful misery.
The cry for justice hammers on the door
of heartless blackmailers trading lives for a determined price
antagonizing the innocent, making sordid deals
in the community to disrupt peaceful homes and families .
The cry for justice screams at the conscience of
Barbaric kidnappers who have been destroying lives
And committing cold blood murder in the middle of the night.
The cry for Justice climbs every mountain top
The cry for Justice voyage over land and sea
Bellows in the heavens and finally made a stop.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Conversation With Relatives
Today, I feel an intense resolve. About two years ago, family members frequently shared news of someone's passing—whether it was from the village or someone I had once known. During those conversations, I would tense up and firmly request that they refrain from calling with bad news.
Death is a constant reminder, glaring at us from our calendars.
I recall a time when my neighbor had called to inform me that someone was outside my door, dressed in black, was banging on it.
My immediate thought was that the Angel of Death was seeking me out. In these pandemic days, he is everywhere, like an Amazon Prime van overshadowing UPS trucks.
While the world faces shutdowns, some individuals refuse to take it seriously.
They blatantly reject the vaccines, either out of selfishness or fear of death. It's essential to acknowledge that death will claim us all; poets write about it because they express truths that other forms of communication often miss.
As Lao Tzu stated, "A man with outward courage dares to die; a man with inner courage dares to live."
My mantra today is to seize each moment and live every day as if it's my last.
I rarely have anything to say to anybody.
I'm introverted, quiet, shy really.
I am that dude that you often will find at a party,
hiding in the shadows observing everybody,
rarely participating in any conversations or social activity,
but when I do have something to say, No One Can or Dare Stop Me,
many have tried and failed defeated repeatedly,
and once I get started, There Is No Stopping Me.
I may be shy but I Will Freely Speak My Mind To Everybody,
willing to listen, It's called Freedom of Speech,
yet another civil right about to be lost to everybody..
I am a high school drop out with a GED.
That is the formal education of yours truly,
but I am also self educated in what truly interests me,
Science, Animal Behaviour and History mainly,
And I See The Exact Same Patterns Happening Currently,
That Have Repeated Themselves Over And Over Again Through Out History.
MARTIAL LAW Is Right Around The Corner Everybody,
if people outdoors continue to blatantly display publicly,
that they are not assuming any Personal Responsibility,
To Protect Themselves And THEIR CHILDREN Openly,
from catching and spreading this potential epidemic deadly disease,
and that's ThisKidster's worthless opinion everybody.
In the middle of a Thai hot summer, we ventured
into the high hills of North Thailand.
We were medics, a small out-reach team
serving the scattered rural villages
of that remote area.
Klauss, a dour civic engineer, by his side,
his wife, a pretty Chinese nurse.
As it happened, Klauss brought along
a visiting acquaintance, an avuncular German.
On the way home to the leprosy institute,
we pulled the Land Rover into a wayside village shop
to eat sticky rice, chilies, and salted fish.
I disremember how the conversation turned
to the second world war,
I think the talkative German instigated that subject,
declaring how the allies had propagandized the facts.
I spoke coldly of how my father (a Hurricane fighter pilot),
had died in the Battle of Britain, and how I had seen
all the disgustingly savage films of the concentration
camp victims. The kraut just glared red faced at his feet
while soft spoken, kindly Klauss struggled to change
the conversation.
That was many years ago, now I feel compelled
to confess that I had blatantly lied!
Dad was an air-raid warden who rode a peddle bike,
and never left London during the war.
Yet strangely, that was the first time
I thought I could be, should be a poet.
The often unnoticed first strategic step
in bullying
is to isolate.
Religious
political
economic
and/or sexual bullying
begins, already,
feeling entitled to pervasively disempower,
dissociate,
disinvest,
unenlighten,
excommunicate,
lock up,
terminate from employment,
send to the reservation,
asylum
ghetto,
wrong side
of the LeftBrain dominant
self-righteous tracks.
Deeply separate,
divide and, thereby, expose
and bully
that Other,
or those Others,
who need to learn their place,
separate and deservedly unequal,
to relearn their divinely-inspired space
of oppression
neglect
punishment
For being wrong,
too needy greedy,
too ignorant,
uneducated
simple
quiet and sneaky
*****
unbinary
effeminate
pretentious
hypocritical
weird looking, sounding, smelling,
frightening
angry
threatening...
Such alien Others
are first isolated
at least by disreputation,
then abused
First neglected
shunned
Othered
alienated
unaccepted,
Then ridiculed
used
raped
vilified
Blatantly and falsely accused
of being motivated
to dismiss
and impoverish
the monoculturing Bullies
through stealth
or by speaking their lying,
biased
self-serving Truth
Which is always ignored
until They get too uppity
again.
Bullies
and their Victims
are, thereby, deprived
of experiencing compassionate
cooperatively appreciated
and co-invested
dialogue.
Bullies
and their Victims
thereby declare and suffer wars
where everyone,
including plants and animals,
soil and water and air quality,
suffers and loses
except, in the bookkeeping department,
the military-industrial
short-term corporate profit Bullies
Who will not realize
their self-victimizing
long-term health and safety losses
until degeneratively isolated
from all prospects for a livable
sustainable
humane
sacredly compassionate
EarthTribe health and safety
future climate
regenerative resilience.
Apostle Matthew encountered...
artist, dragon and gangster extraordinaire
Here at 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Actually all three people
linkedin to each other courtesy
Dissociative Identity Disorder
(Multiple Personality Disorder).
Wiccan up to mystical alien way
I raptly listened as she didst soothsay
scanned -- din heavy yen reference
about paganistic folkloric history
regarding Sweden and Oslo (also) Norway.
The missus dubbed
aforementioned young gal "curvy girl,"
a zaftig smart young woman
super talented self taught herself
to draw, sketch, and paint.
Only unmarried millennial men need apply,
perhaps someone who hails from buckeye
state - ideally above average
humorous gallivanting fellow
plus somewhat meshuggeneh cockeye
Louie garden variety
wealthy eccentric recluse
who doth blatantly defy
establishmentarian paradigm
you rarely espy,
cause he stays sequestered
about dozen doors down
from (femme fatale) ha
said alluded to chick named
three faces of Jen Fry
easy on the eyes
courtesy me, a generic guy,
who experienced amicable chat
referencing aforementioned lass
the first encounter with her
found yours truly saying "hi"
devoid of ulterior motives
only casual acquaintanceship did I imply
cuz even if this former bachelor
(got married twenty fifth of July
nineteen hundred and ninety six)
hypothetically decoupled,
cuz the age difference between us
quite substantial qua aging baby boomer
born two years after Bridge
over the River Kwai
filmed - then rocked to sleep
courtesy Brahms lullaby
if fain to sire offspring with lass
(young enough to be my daughter)
kiddos would witness their papa to mummify
Our friendly communication
peppered with structures of silence
coasted along with zest
and dialed up quite lathered dialogue
betwixt us I do attest
mutual comfort level quickly established
between yours truly
and said attractive beefy babe,
who possessed killer thunder thighs
shaking the entire firmament.
Blasphemy
Blatantly ephemeral or plain outright naughty and lustful
Praying for beauty in the eye of beholding passionate Gods
Angles and half dome shaped wishes curve balls and all
~ Those who write by the sword are judged by the Lord ~
Thanatos and Libido a close shave of mounds of Vesuvius
The Vatican going up in one shattering search of its smoke
Church towers like phalli or bayonets decree choice in the matter
~ Trust thy neighbor in her cove’s coveted olives and mangos go forth
Veiled femme fatals embrace their shadows cover the flame
The Muezzin shouts from his minaret calls for service and love
Lingerie adorned by copula’s cusp bosomed for nibbles
~ Wet shirt competition in the heat of the spiritual moment ~
An elegant elephant with trumpeting trunks moaning and groaning
Free flowing love on the banks of the Ganges under cloth of the loin
Where Hindu meets Buddha on sheets and streets of Kolkata
~ Begging for mercy as wars of religions and nations battle in vain ~
Crosses to bear half moons to envisage and Karma to please
One woman’s humid humour is another man’s satirical crime
Whose God is to command me what is right and what thong
~ But once the bloody atheist kneels on the altar faith is restored ~
03rd May