Long Caesar Poems
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He was born in Yonkers, just north of New York City.
This man grew up to be funny and witty.
While working in a luncheonette owned by his family,
with the art of patois, Sid displayed proficiency.
As a funny comedian, he made his presence felt.
Sid got his start in upstate New York in the Borscht Belt.
As a saxophonist, his first job was at the Vacationland.
He became an influential member of the hotel’s band.
With the late Imogene Coca, he was a television pioneer.
On Broadway and in movies, Sid would also appear.
However, alcohol and barbiturates nearly destroyed his career.
A recovery brought him back into entertainment’s sphere.
Over the years, many awards and recognitions came his way.
At the age of ninety-one, Sid Caesar passed away.
RIP Sid Caesar
(1922-2014)
I thank both wikipedia.org online encyclopedia and variety.com for information
I obtained to write this poem.
Despicable Me.
For using any obstacle.
They erect in my pathway.
As a pebble and not a mountain.
Despicable Me.
That I don’t crumble.
In front of my frenemies.
But joyful singing.
They are anticipating,
Waiting to see if I am drowning.
But it is ok.
I have God in me.
They don’t know
On troubled water.
I prefer to dance gracefully.
Despicable Me.
For not competing.
With lies and deceit.
But undisturbed doing my work.
The eagle, in me, patiently waits.
The storm reached its peak.
Before I spread my majestic wings.
And when the dark clouds gather,
I am swiftly taking off.
And above the storm,
I am soaring.
Become one with the roaring thunder,
And lightning.
Despicable Me.
For seeing.
With my optic eyes, far ahead
Their evil schemes.
Which was planned.
In their mind, they won.
But I have news for them.
A war had just begun.
I don’t hail to no Caesar or Hitler.
But only to Jesus.
The British royal family is front and center this weekend. How unusual is that?
The empire may be gone, but it’s time to recall its ghost, dust it off and invoke the ancient spell of monarchy.
A coronation, The original dog & pony show - God’s kingly sinecure. I can’t even remember the last one.
You have to know who your great, great, great, grandfather was to be nobility-class smug or to don those getups, with medals that would have made Caesar blush and Attila laugh.
The cast is familiar, if somewhat balding, The too-old king, his - whatever -wife.
I can’t help mourning Diana. Accident, treachery or karma, grown men cried at her passing, Shakespeare’s darkened heavens blazed in sorrow and, eventually, even the gray queen bowed her head.
There’s no more honor, in 2023, and if there’s any glory, its light has grown as dim as the glitter of gold.
The fact that the royals are better than us, is axiomatic. Not morally superior, of course. That’s the Pope’s job. The royals are like Britain’s Mickey Mouse, and any civilized man, who’d strike at that, would have to be a fool.
Put your hands up those who want more sillies
Counted six thousand, one hundred and forty
Seems like a bunch of you still like to giggle
Be assured, more's coming up shortly
First one, how does one make holy water?
That's easy, you boil the hell out of it
That's really quite funny and extremely clever
A copyright I've got in my mitts
They say nobody is perfect, well I'm a nobody
So it follows I must be perfect
If four out of five suffer from diarrhea
Must mean one person enjoys it's effects
A computer once actually beat me at chess
But it's no match for me at kick boxing
Beat the poop out of that annoying computer
Other laptops thought it was shocking
I say no to alcohol, but it just doesn't listen
That's the silliest thing I've ever heard
Whenever I talk quietly to my Bloody Caesar
It answers, “you are totally absurd!”
Whad'ya call a boomerang that won't come back
I guess I'd just call it a stick
What do you give a woman who has it all
Your phone number of course, Mr. Slick
Lucious , the sources ae not clear:
yet with all understanding
of those things
loved, I must mention a
togetherness bound for marriage
might only honey be sweeter!
The "Tale of Love and Being Loved"
Guided by the appreciation of trudology
might he who wishes me, might
speak the ills of poverty
might I appreciate my havings more<
Might I love in dusty places
to then wash Casear's feet.
Might Casear wishes me as his and only
his: until then I shall take the appreciation
of being his favorite: to the envy of the Crud
which his position attracts.
Lucious they lie in wait in Acerrae: chore then
prepared.That you wishest me to think
you aromantic thru these days. Under his own vine
and fig Tree, to nap and be alone. When all the light
of daytime: has dwindled:dimmed and
is gone. Out in moonlite shadows
does she come to be with thee.
To kiss in evening moonlight
to nourish from the figs of the tree.
Might we render then to Caesar
the things that are Caesars
which wisdom and success.
One then speaks to error might
then and now are same
Precious is thy love for me
I speak ye in Jesus name.
Allt hat thirst needest
all that hunger needest same
from Pagen to Noble s
all needest same
Love of ye in adorance
to speak of lovers plea
to kiss her hand
and pick sweet figs
and stand preparedness
are we
the widest nature
where rains have flooded feilds
destroyed in flooded lands
untamed Hearts sorrowed by
natures wrath
the mammon shock reveals
a lack of information
a truest mouth reveals
to speak words that helpest thee
diligent hands blister that thy
toil to restorate
that worsening conditions deal.
SATB Background
( non lexical Vocables)
written for a Alto Sole
with an Orchastra
They passed the Jicama to the men
they ate it rw.
While the woman prpare a stew
they told a tale of Casear
to the Pervians
"Not that they were hungry:
but would these hungry people eat!"
Romeo and Juliet
Their love prompted their society to fret
And led to their suicidal death
In one of the greatest love stories yet
Lancelot and Guinevere
They had an adulterous love affair
Which demonstrated very clear
Her unfaithfulness to her husband dear
Paris of Troy and Helen
In his love for her he was so smitten
This led to his country's ruin
And also cost the lives of many men
Anthony and Cleopatra
He followed in the footsteps of Caesar
Who was also her son's father
And he made this foreign queen his lover
Samson and Delilah
He was well known as a strong warrior
Until she became his barber
After which he lost his strength and power
David and Bathsheba
Through loving her, he became a sinner
And turned into a murderer
Despite his image as a great ruler
Shah Jahal and Mumtaz Mahal
Among his wives he loved her best of all
Their love he made monumental
And embodied it in the Taj Mahal
A face that you see everyday
That same reflection that you curse in various ways
Punished for hard living
Praised for innocent givings
Untoucheables repeatedly charmed
Because we are have-nots, we are seated and alarmed
White roses, clear caskets, and black doves
Nothing more than scenes from above
It sprinkles like hell in a well
Heavenly treasures are the remains of Satan
When the last drop of life is strained from my veins
I will not be awaking
As I am crucified on this witness stand
There's only one thing I demand
God bless the stress in my hands
The warm feeling of a passionate hug
These are Scenes from Above
I am all but a portion of Caesar
Granted extortion of a true believer
And before I leave this trial
I'll probably be slained and murdered
Over the stars
And through eternal pain my soul will be hurdled
Set me out to sea and let my flesh burn
Let my advasaries recognize stress and mourn
Forever overwhelmed with passion and love
Nothing more than Scenes From Above
I'm a few new frogs from leaping
One shoe on the logs from deeping
A handful of tears from weeping
Three scars away from being worth not keeping
Open a new testament
Why these demons bother to pester me
No telling howmany sins I am from resting in Hell
Seven seals from guessing my bail
Today may not be what it seems
But tomarrow is only a dream
I'm a few pushes from a great shove
A few Scenes From Waking Above
Crossing thresholds of blooms and dewdrops of glorious spring,
Toward autumn proudly walks season-bride with golden ring;
Her costumes, robes of ballet dancers, as per scenes, changes,
Facets of nature alter her charm to cosmic ranges...!
Scotching sun transforms mossy leaves, to golden-churns,
Clement breeze, once exited the stage, into storm-gust, returns;
Painful to bid goodbye to beloved trees, leaves linger,
Yet, get shaken off by now-twig-turning, dry-tree-finger...!
Constellation composes puzzled riddled strange stories,
Church-bells jingle mingling mysteries and histories;
Et-tu-Brute - one could hear Julius Caesar cry loud,
Senators encircle him, as though, for their goals, they're proud...!
Traces of moon gets gut-split; glowworm-stars glitter around,
Clouds, Indian widows in wild white, move, no safe paths found;
Master Craftsman pursues and persists painting scenes serene,
Brushes, disobliging, spill paints-mixes gaudy and sheen...!
Flocks of tribal nomads grazing on moss-grassland valleys,
Resemble ides-sheep of Jupiter; relishing rallies;
Peacock butterflies float, like goddess Anna in rose-hill,
In marriages of myths and truths, moods merrily chill and thrill...!
Harmonious chorus of sky and seas brings pertinence,
Parameters of perfection pave paths of permanence,
Paradoxes of joys, angst... it possesses plethora,
Ides-of-March! Not time! Not season! It's eternal era...!
28 March 2022
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
(the birth of Christ - in Gen-Z slang)
Mary and Joseph were tight-ship.
Mary was a real-one, and no clout-chaser
One night Angel Gabriel overstreeted with word
that Cap-G made Mary chabby with soup-baby
Mary was shook and big-mad but Joseph
was baby-goggles for Cap-G’s quinlan fetus
so Mary was “okrrrrrrrrr”
A minute later Mary and Joe had to roll deep,
adulting to Bethlehem with tribute to Augustus,
the main character, but no mo-mo swerved em’
ghetto and asan Mary was Cap-G’s baby-mama!
Later these bchaps rfts biters brang Cap-J
some bag and herb to extra flex for Cap-G
while angels lay in the cut with lowkey bop.
———————- translation
Mary and Joseph were married and in love.
Mary was an average girl not into notoriety
.
One night Angel Gabriel appeared and said
that God made Mary pregnant with his child
Mary was shaken-up and and angry but Joseph
Was excited for them to have God’s beautiful child
so Mary was had no choice but to say “OK”
Months later Mary and Joe had to travel far together,
As citizens, to Bethlehem to pay taxes to Augustus (Caesar).
Emperor of rome, but a lack of motels caused them to
Stay in a manger and there Mary had God’s child.
Later these rich star followers brought Jesus
some money and herb as gifts to impress God
while angels gathered and sang to comfort the child.
The Swan of Avon known as the bard
Born on St Georges day
A wizard of words not one line marred
He wrote many a wonderful play
The legacy he left for us
Still can bring us joy
Star crossed lovers witches and kings
All did his pen employ
Julius Caesar and Macbeth
The Tempest and King John
Pericles and Cymbeline
The list goes on and on
His work was staged at the Globe
more than 400 years ago
Still seems fresh still seems new
And still moves us so
Yes this genius of a man
Whose writing was so fine
Was not of an age
But a man for all of time
The Swan of Avon still lives on
In every play that's seen
If you see one you'll agree
He is the greatest that there's been