Long Breathing space Poems
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Over two hundred million people sleeps and wake without a leader,
A cloned effigy in a rock called "Aso"
too old to lead or long dead to be,
demented or dead, they cannot tell,
old age has come but he would not leave.
a cult of connivers shields a tyrant,
with ceaseless speeches and empty promises,
One A Liar , some are writers and others are twitvist,
Two years of silence and none dare ask,
where is the President who took the oath?
Over two hundred million heads bowed to corruption,
East and west the groans is Loud,
where right is wrong and wrongs is praised.
The governors or senator and ministers too,
all aligned to loot the treasury,
recycled bandits in seats of honor,
Judges are blinded and the media subdued,
as brown envelop diverts attention.
over two hundred million destinies suspended,
#ENDSARS was their last successful outcry
a revolution too soon suspended
From Bonny Barracks to Lekki, criminals in uniform murdered unity.
bludgeoned agitators with the barrels the errand boys of a dictator police and solders.
and the masses too scared for a total freedom,
returned to apathy and unending subjugation
Over two hundred Million deprived masses.,
controlled as slaves by a hundred old despots,
Littered across cultures and tribes, a handful few protected by guns,
ex criminals , Presidents and ex all,
with looted funds in London and and Zurich,
atop hills in gaudy wealth,
unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury,
Over two hundred million people disunited,
who by amalgam compelled by Britain's Lugard,
Feudalism and lie called democracy.
The minority herders on a mission
they took the yam and knife without resistance.
where beggars becomes a tyrant after election (Rigged)
and the masses dare not demand accountability
over two hundred million sufferers gave oppressor a breathing space,
where servants becomes the Boss,
without pacifying and unwilling to yield
the Loot looted named palliatives.
old tyrant mock democracy by decrees
What country ?
Don't ask me.
you know it well
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.
(America’s Mutant Megalomaniacs)
All Scientists know that our planet is warming,
No question remains too whose ox will get gored!
A contributing fact is earth's CO2's rising,
That surface of Venus melts lead not ignored.
The Venus disaster pre-destined to happen,
Though evidence says once had oceans like us,
And in millions of years we'll face similar future:
Should sun get much hotter? Run over by bus!
Though sun remains stable, and breathing space likely,
If warming continues, a problem for sure.
For our food comes from crops that depend on the weather
And fields must get moisture for us to endure.
Whatever our future, a crisis is brewing,
When millions get forced from sea towns in the main
Earth ten degrees hotter (keep fuel rate consumed now),
One hundred years needed to access this pain.
At four percent, (3) we make one-sixth all emissions,
At nineteen percent, (3) China's close to one third,
Which implies as a people we're far the worse villain,
One hundred years crime wave still gives world 'the Bird.'
Do immigrants flock here to share in our freedoms,
Or sneak 'cross our borders to share what we stole?
Is it time to 'fess up' while we still have some options,
Examine our purpose, not prostitute goal?
Brian Johnston
April 28, 2018
Poet’s Notes:
(1) The leadership of current Republican Party, Alt-Right, and Tea Party.
(2) Naïve liberals who still think there are people worth saving? To
quote 'Pogo' in the famous cartoon strip by Walt Kelly, "We have met the enemy, and he is us!" All humans are culpable!
(3) The US is 4% of the world population with 16% of the pollution,
China is close to 19% with about 28% of the pollutants, but if we had
the same number of people, our contribution to earth’s greenhouse gases
would be over 50% of the total problem.
Lockdown over, I had to head to school
my pupils waiting to learn the golden rule
I got ready and put on that mask
following the health protocols is a must
How would I each word articulate?
and those whole lessons explicate!
***
Principals in their towers have their say
and teachers, Skills For Life, have to convey
So eager to see my pupils and join the classroom
no time to spend with colleagues in the teachers room
Just virtual wishes.. Love and hugs
and the joy of all the social media tags.
***
I looked weird, in need of a breathing space
with that mask and my glasses, nothing remained of my face!
High time I proceeded with the warming up
avoiding to preach or give a negative heads up
A perplexed look in my pupils eyes I could see
a strong desire to build in them a motivational esprit
***
Nothing has changed, me doing all the talking
in day dreams they seemed to be sinking
My voice in the void echoed, "am I speaking Chinese?
I'm afraid, these are but the English language abcs!"
'If you can't turn the page, burn the book'. "Would you please paraphrase?
not all at once, please, one at a time as always!"
***
"Sorry teacher, we didn't bring our textbooks"
I was maddened but they got nothing from my looks
"Teacher, isn't burning books wrong and bad?!"
I felt deeply disappointed but could nothing add!
I see you've been learning English off by heart!
and with revision you've torn your minds apart!
***
We are wise and curious, teacher! glued to our smart phones
learning from Peaky Blinders.. Breaking Bad.. and Game of Thrones!
I thanked God I was wearing that shielding mask
I could resist my rage and carry off the teaching task.
To my pen, a deep gratitude for such a relief
such a consuming task could make funny and brief.
It’s one of those days when my stomach is pressing against my chest, and my lungs is playing tick tock toe with its own breath. My adrenaline is running a hundred miles marathon per hour and my arteries are bouncing up and down the trampoline from the sound of the heavy metal pounding in the background.
This closely knitted community with all its clarity is composing its own rhythm but you cannot tell from whence it begins. The story about the crop and the young maiden wearing the new frock with the billiard balls positioned on the table waiting at the corner to make the first shot. I still have this strange feeling inside that makes me want to move but there is nothing substantial to choose from so I wait for destiny to propel me along.
The area around me is cluttered but I can still find a breathing space and water to wet my tired face. The threads on the tire are screaming, and my shoe laces are reeling, my dinner plate is waiting at the gate and the wood cutter is composing a new symphony with logs and aluminum pots.
All fears are boiled out of me and water is boiling at three hundred degree. There is always a story to tell even if you are trapped in the darkest hell.
The days are getting longer and my patience is getting shorter. I am surrounding with walls and trees and a big water tank leaning against the wall and if you stand against it, it will make you feel small.
Two concrete structures and a board house trapped inside its own middle are waiting on top of the hill for the drill, and the bushes around makes the board house look like a clown a long night gown.
The sky is turning blue and the crickets are composing symphony number two. The sound is celebrating with the sky and the trees are waving goodbye. I am pressing towards the finishing.
Golden melodies
Creating a series of bolded memories,
Spiral through the canals of my ears...
Melting away the wax so everything clears,
Peers from all directions echoes to project their voices...
Only a golden tone is embraced.
Alert! I became...
Adrenalin pushes my heart to my throat.
My world became still as I choked to echoes of your voice.
Mesmerised! everything changes to my then perplexed soul.
Attraction surpasses that of North and South poles,
That's the power of the golden tone!
Everytime it vibrates through my ear drum
I attantevily cling to the dear moment..
Not allowing any breathing space between every second.
My emotions react to every syllable you utter
Awakening ghost memories long thrown to the gutter!
Goosebumps pops!
reacting to the sound of your golden voice.
Choices I had,
Ultimately got abondoned
Due to your daily calls I surrendered!
Yes, everything changed as I bent my rules
Just to soak in the thrills of your golden tone!
Melodies of your voice sounds like the best callertune in my fone!
Blocked vessels in my soul
Flushed out, everything flows..
Unsaid truth got exposed
while chambers of secrets get discovered!
My heart skips relinquishing sweetness brought by thy tone,
Golden tone that bears no obstacles of dismay.
May you please
Escape with me to the galaxy that you from.
Let your soft snores be my daily lullaby...
As there is no longer any alibi,
Share me tutorials to sharpen my voice,
For your golden tone its my choice!
Oh the beauty of life..,
Life which is no longer limited by
"what ifs"
Yes! the beauty of life..
As everything changes..!
By Lebo Benjamin
It lays helpless at the foot of the hill gasping for breath, while the shadows drifts slowly over the hardened earth and thickened skies. The scent of the gully birds kept meandering around strange daffodils with courageous scent filtering in the promiscuous skies.
I have learnt that starfish and clams are not the smartest creatures but when they bond together there is no breathing space for the clam to waiver. The bowerbird with its sugary nest scampers around the logs, watching the chipmunk tunneling through the hole while the squirrel kept swinging from door to door and the queen bee kept spewing honey on the wooden floor.
A loud noise echoed from across the horizon crashing through lofty mountain sending billows of smoke through the dented skies. The ashes travels for miles sand and dust mixed with the earth’s crust dancing to the alligator rhythm and the cicada kept its tune for the mass schedule at noon. The beaver stands next to the door watching the giant anteater walking on the shore, while the sea gulls kept asking for more.
I stood from a long distance watching the piranha drifting towards the shore and the gold fish swimming behind its tail with a blood spot on its veil, as the shadows of human encountered with the drill the piranhas plunges in the ocean plate and the mammoth come flying out of nowhere busting down the gate and the fish swam freely towards the shore and migrate into fresh clean waters.
It was a scene that I could never forget; it kept me static on the deck as the ships starts rolling in the voices began to sing and everyone caught on to that mystifying rhythm. I am Free.
My head rests on the doorframe, as I'm watching him at work.
I'm jealous of the devotion, and the motion of his hands,
much surprised at the green-eyed dragon that lurks within my mind,
while he rubs the pungent oil into muscles of the pine.
With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, his rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and released,
where the onion skin of years and wear
had been entombed beneath the grain
He groans with satisfaction, (this Frankenstein, of mine),
while something worn, and tossed away,
is brought to life.
Back from the dead
A shimmering sheen, patina gleams while morning light slides in,
I think I see a swirl of smoke that curls above his head
And the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, as if the sun came up
No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face,
he sees me not, .... or my jealous want,.......His needs have been erased.
The lingering scent of linseed has claimed my breathing space
There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here
The sensual, taunting, simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay
I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to touch the man I face,
release his trancelike state of mind,
and let his fingers trace
________________________________________
Under the canopy of pine trees,
We lie watching the peaks of mountains
Crowned in white and wearing stony brown.
We take flights to majestic heights
To see views from the summits’ tops.
Dreams fulfilled, we fly back on a high
And land on the remnant of pine leaves
Where we lie, you and I, wide-awake.
Ever in the mode to propel me to fly,
You are my dream-drive, in blossom,
Residing in the warmth of my bosom,
In a niche that you have dug deep
And which you have never quit,
Forever forgiving your companion
For his shifting sights, pine tree high
Piercing the sky, and buoyantly green,
Quivering like pine branches,
Leaving him with no breathing space
To take life in slow motion and meditate,
To bring a shade of stability to his life.
You have left me high dreams to nurture.
I have bartered some for pieces of gold
But some you have treasured for me
To fall upon when inconsistency filled my life
And buds of high dreams
Started wilting before their bloom.
Then, in a soft gesture, you will open your chest
And grant me some of those jewels
Which in their flawless forms
Will glitter like shining stars.
A life's stretch is finite.
A day will come when I’ll feel fatigued.
Then, in a meditative silence, you and I,
We will lie under this canopy
And gaze at the clear blue sky.
The sky will take on a dreamy look
Embroidered with resplendent stars
To salute my companion and me, lying-in-state.
What does the blood owes the vein?
What does food owes the stomach?
The grasses would always be green but
Not in a drought and dry days.
The day owes the night the chance to exist
Among the evil men who dwells in the dark
Planning preciously on how to attack the innocents.
The day owes the night breathing space and the
Longing for approval by the craving moon
Who lies awake in it abode.
The day owes the night a space to
Interact with the lords of the night and
Welcomes the owls to their haunting game
Of human souls which had deviated from the laws.
The day owes the night love and separation
From the time limit of the division of the their works.
The day has to make the lonely night have its rightful
Time allotted to them by nature.
It owes the night the privilege to perform it duties
It owes the night an acknowledgement to welcome him home
During when the east breeze goes to the west to settle its dispute with the sun.
As the sun owes the day so as the moon owes the night
And the night also owes the day when the cock stood
In the rusty thatch hut to welcome the day as the night
Depart to an unknown destination.
We all are debtors, no one is less important in this global village.