Long Carbon Poems
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ME
Me: By Oladeji aka Vicki Acquah
Because I am only
ONE of my Kind.
And refuse
to Abort my mission..I ask..
Could I have been a little more
religious
patient
tolerant
willing
agreeable
softer
sweeter
easier
diplomatic
could I have gone along to get along,
be a softer place for hard asses to land.
Could I have been a little less
Difficult
Opinionated
forgiving
fault finding
expressive
extreme
Blunt
Truthful
Yes... I could have...
But then where would that leave you?
That would not have been me,
And as you can see
There's enough of them
Carbon Copies....
....And they are not changing a damn-thing.
And then there's me...
Me: by Oladeji Vicki Acquah
"I dived into the cauldron of magic potion-
and pay tribute to God's Galactic Soup."
_by Poet
Galactic soup, the Lord wished for,
one day when he felt empty, bored;
some nutrients to give him more
alternatives to be explored.
With hydrogen and helium,
He then stirred in some oxygen;
mixed carbon next then added some
neon, iron, and nitrogen.
He tasted it- but still not done.
The flavor needed silicon,
some sulfur and magnesium;
enough, for now, to work upon.
His soup was done and it was grand;
created by his expertise,
a perfect flavor, strong not bland.
And so the Lord felt quite at peace.
But he had stewed a giant bowl;
this was too much for him to hold.
To share it was His brand new goal;
so next, He managed something bold.
He flung his prized galactic soup
into the void in which He lay;
with a big bang, eternal swoop,
His Universe was born that day.
And from His soup, all life emerged
from gentle lambs to sharks that bite.
And likewise, humans, He diverged
to yellow, brown, red, black, and white.
The Tiara and the Crown
I sit here in boxers… and I wonder:
Do I join in?
I know it looks fun—
The manager yelling at balls outside the zone.
And if I wanted to, I could audition.
And what about the makeup?
Comparison wears the crown.
Or does the tiara wear the actress?
Because we never really knew each other…
Did we?
(Checkmark)
I’ve circled the drain one too many times.
My binary system got caught red-handed again yielding too many zeros.
To be, or not to be?
It really is the question isn’t it?
Did the child ever leave?
Can I still argue with another grown man about absolutely nothing significant?
I think Jesus could.
I think Shakespeare wasn’t sure.
But what a hypocrite am I?
To call myself a believer—
When I stopped believing a while ago.
And yet, the kingdom…
The magic kingdom of play pretend…
It’s right there.
Yet I ask the same question:
To join the shenanigans or to not?
I didn’t sign the contract to perform.
I signed the contract to play pretend.
And now Disneyland holds all the magic.
And we.
The carbon copies.
Mr. And Mrs. 666.
We ALL want to fall into something that lets us play pretend.
But instead we judge. And compare.
And that leads to seeing ourself everywhere but here.
The mirror, it’s left us with nowhere to rest our heads.
And I think is this by design? A hell?
Or did God plant himself. And say:
Hey, please hear me, please look at me.
Even here, I am.
Moon sleeps long wrapped in cozy quilt of chilly fogs,
Earth is engulfed in thick black carbon-canopy;
Trees ghosts-like; birds black-hole shaded; loud growl of dogs,
The scene is as silent as a dream fantasy...
Grow-caws cooled; cock-craws chocked; cattle clemently calm;
Buds of roses and sunflowers snore and sleep still;
Snails and worms shrunk betwixt fallen leaves and twigs, warm,
Cold seems handicapping even hearts of goodwill...
Bells feebly heard; the village church is very far;
As our bullocks are unwell, we may need to walk;
There's joy, when young and old - all together way-fare,
Merrily walk telling tales and season's talk...
Come, join us, share the happiness, Jesus is born!
Partake in Christmas joy, though we might walk till morn!
21 December 2021
The task commissioned,
the black sand tested,
deemed worthy
of hard use.
A sword-smith's prayer
lifts aloft to the Shinto shrine
requesting his soul be captured
in the mirrored grain
of this, his finest blade.
An earthen furnace raging,
flames licking the entrance.
To smelt, to cleanse,
charcoal carbon to mix,
breathing strength
into raw tamahagane.
Shingane, kawagane,
one brick of each.
feeding the mouth
of a greedy forge.
Regurgitating and melting,
making pliable these.
Leathered craftsman hands
drive out flaws and sparks,
hammering, bending,
meticulously folding
thirty-thousand times.
Tired and spent,
black eyes linger
over the polished steel,
to inspect and examine,
acknowledging a masterpiece.
Now, commission completed,
his motive revealed.
with an unthinkable descent;
momentum for a sickening plunge,
as his own life force
runs red the reflective hada.
Billowed in black by my schizophrenic ponderings, these personalities are somehow resolute.
Within a matrix of survival; they coincide.
Fractals of quanta and wavelengths that fall from grace, will soon depict a Homunculus face.
Spanning out into oblivion as it gestures it’s courtesy beneath the world sheet.
By Orch OR, my loyalties are reduced to inconceivable amounts of ones or zeros.
When they do reduce, why is it a woman's face I see him seeing?
He watches a holograph of her, looking with a handheld azimuth to turn its view.
Sleeping in a hole of shambles, I see them seeing myself see nothing, but I feel my hadron body shrill.
Shadows like carbon fiber polymers are threaded intraosseously, trimming my astro-man's shins and knuckles with dark armor.
He now stands fortified as a hominid of diamond; surrounded by a phoxonic shield.
He protects her in his holon cocoon of qualia; it cannot be computed by perturbation, heuristics, or algorithmic affronts.
All but to fight back a bad dream, one that could harm the face we saw him seeing.
For better or worse we shall remember the sentiment.
To record this exert of love, he wrote the whole thing down as I thought it up.
Doing right by the left side.
Before I turn the light on, I put his clothes on inside out and tags back.
As if by coincidence, it was an imperfectly perfect fit.
POINTING TO THE PROBLEMS
{Bivouacs}
Beat down with legal fees
Tied up with taxes;
Tripped up with mortgages;
Ripped off with student loans
Insulted with insurance
Telephone updates.
Out of date opts,
New upgrade rates;
Food on the down-low
Carrots in the closet;
Conjugating with fake rice.
Plastic cabbage, inedible corn.
Tomatoes with fish dung
Water with lead, flatulent cows
Polluting the air.
Carbon emission:
Beyond the stratosphere:
Halliburton and agent orange.
Nuclear explosion -radiation;
Devastating the atmosphere.
I can’t explain, with no
nutrients to the brain.
No minerals to the lungs n heart.
Contaminated nation;
Sheer contamination.
Is it too late, to rise above the hate?
Tired n Devastated, tried elevation.
Tried to immunize, and fine tune
My body to this new moon.
With herbs n mushrooms.
Sun Hot, Global Scorching...
Illuminati wants hearts,
and good body parts.
Neanderthals,running back to their caves
Underground bunkers, where they’ll be safe…
Americans dangling off bridges with knapsacks;
Flimsy structures and Bivouacs
No air, no food, no heat,
Not even water safe to drink.
Like Dinosaurs and bees, fast becoming extinct.
I can’t even think, with no nutrients to the brain.
No minerals to fortify lungs n heart.
Contaminated nation,
Sheer contamination.
With nowhere to run;
What do you think should be done?
5 random mysterious word's
to write a poem about and
put my finger on
And my 5 word's are as follows
In poetic numeracy
3 , 4 , 1 , 2 , 5
Alphabetical order
C , H , M , M , P
1) Heave
Effort , stress , lift
2) Misadventure
Accident , mischief , exploration
3) Paramedic
Angel , giver , medical
4) Park
Sanctuary , nature , land
5) Carbon
Charcoal block's , grafite , diamond
And this is what i came to
prose about
Oh first responder paramedic
angel of the blue light ambulance
Carved from diamond carbon building block's
of inner strength inside
Heaving pushing lifting stress aside
forcing it from other's out
Sadly misadventure an accident has
some poor soul befallen mischief upon
Chaperoning them through the
park to patiently wait there turn
in line before the gates where the
remenant leftover are also waiting
to be processed
For Caren Krutsinger
5 Word Myster Poetry contest
29 September 2020
Admiration For the Person You’ve Become
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
Reflecting in the year’s past of your favorite toy
Was also your security blanket that you always kept near
A mere little stuff rabbit you loved so much dear
If it disappeared, it would always reappeared
From the washing to the drier because it had been so soiled
As you grew older the little artist and Shakespeare you became
Pictures, flowers, poems I would find I’d date and write your name
There were times fear overtook your little mind sweetheart
You would walk in your sleep until the pain would go away from your heart
You'd whisper in my ear to tell me you loved me
You always wanted to be like your daddy, inventive
You've become a man, “Mama I love you” you still tell me
You've become the carbon copy of your dad and passive
We are so proud you took the road of responsibility
Your dad and I agree
You are still my little artist and Shakespeare full of joy
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
Admiration For the Person You’ve Become
2/27/2016
My Lovely Children
A Gift You Are
Who would have thought I would be blind
To eternal sunshine that’s mind
The day you were born was the beginning
My heart's petals bloomed most compelling
Tears of joy I shed while I saw you smile
In my arms I knew the pain was worthwhile
Lullabies sung and hummed to bring comfort sleep
As you lay in your crib without a peep
Challenges as you grew with bumps and bruises with footfalls
Sticky fingers, scattered toys, fancy artwork on the walls
Meaningful memories as I look into your eyes
Of the mischief you use to get into, but I was wise
I'll always be here whenever you need me
Stand by you, whoever you decide to be
Eternal sunshine that was mind is still my total joy
Don’t ever forget you will always be my little boy
2/9/2016
This is dedicated to my three wonderful sons that I cradled in my arms and wish I still was
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_gift_you_are_-_my_lovely_children_755125
What an experience
As this episode
Of food-borne disease?
Bout of bad break
Food poisoning
Stomach cramps hurt
Sweet dessert bowl
Odd bacterial strain
Feverish sensations
Excruciating pain
Hazardous purging
Troublesome strains
Again and again
Weak legs dragging
Body disarray
Anti-bloating carbon
Upset stomach pills
Pain in discomfort
Three days edging
A certain complaint
Suffer in silence
Touch of remedy
Hold heart steady
Restore the healthy
What a blunder
Of food plunder
In that wonder!
Leon Enriquez
12 September 2014
Singapore