Long Clergymen Poems
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**Cover-Ups**
The Cardinals will sing, but let’s confront the truth behind it all. We deceive ourselves, but a higher power knows the reality of these situations: makeup and the cover-ups. The Cardinals' song may be beautiful, yet the raven never returned, while the dove came back, never forgetting what it had seen. It whistles a tune that demands to be heard.
Does it really matter how long it takes or the tone we strike? This involves clergymen, bishops, priests, and deacons. And let’s not forget Rome, where nuns step out of the shadows and proclaim their truth to the world. I will not pretend to be saintly or holier than thou. Remember your vows and acknowledge the challenges that lie within the Roman Catholic Church.
Water! Water! The entire landscape submerged
Grave silence! Except the torrents swift and huge
Intimidating sights, plains and valleys merged
Rushing above the tops of roofs with a surge
Clergymen discoursed it the Almighty's curse
The end of epoch, predictors prophesied
Scientists explained it an eco inverse
Country folk acknowledged it ill-fate and cried
Swept by it the colonies of little birds
Corpses drained by the rapid gush of water
Crashed , ruinous, inexplicable for words
Haphazard the course of life by its slaughter
Debris and uprooted trees drained by the flows
Disfigured the pretty landscape of lush green
Distressing sights remained as heart rending woes
Destruction with all its diabolic spleen
Life becomes an endless and relentless fight.
By mingling, can't we make an adaptation?
Western and Indians' viewpoints may be right
But harming nature leads to degradation
Place : 2nd
THEY WOMAN IN THE VILLAGE HEARD OF WHAT WAS GOING ON. THEY WISH NOT TO ENCOURAGE SUCH ROUGE BEHAVIOR PROPOSED BY THE WARBIRD. SIFFRON SAID TO THE OTHERS, THE FEATHERS OF THE HOFFTINDALE SHALL DANCE TO MAKE THE WARBIRD SING, HE SHALL THEN BE THE AMBASSADOR THAT I WISH HIM TO BE. SHE ORDERED HER MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMEN TO BE CLEANED AND HAVE SCENT, AND WEAR THE FEATHERS OF PEACE, AND SPEAK TO THE SETTLERS. WHILE THE MEN SLEPT, THE WOMAN DRESSED AND WENT INTO THE SETTLEMENT, ASKING TO SPEAK TO THOSE WHO COULD FIND THE GOD'S OF THE STREAM. THEY WISH THE MEN NOT TO KNOW OF THEIR INVOLVEMENT WITH WHAT WILL BE NEGOTIATED. THEY TOLD THEM THE GODS HAD COMMANDED THEM TO HUNT WITHIN THE FENCE, AND TO TAKE THE STONES FROM THE WALL. ONE SETTLER TOLD THE PRICE OF A STEER, AND SAID IF ONE WOULD BE MISSED THEY'D HAVE TO PAY FOR IT, AND IF THE STONES FROM THE CREEK WERE REMOVED, THE NATIVES WOULD HAVE TO FIX IT. THEY GAVE THE SETTLERS THE PRICE OF A PRIZE BULL AND MADE A PLAN TO HAVE THE SETTLERS MAKE A DEAL TO FIX THE STONES IN THE WALL, ALL WHICH HAD NOT HAPPENED. THE WOMEN WERE TO GATHER THOSE WHO WOULD FIX THE WALL BY NEGOTIATING BEFORE THE HAPSTANCE. WELL DAYS LATER THE IMAGE REAPPEARED AND ORDERED A HUNT AND THE STONES REMOVED FROM THE WALL, A GROUP OF SETTLERS WATCHED FROM THE SHRUBS AND SAW WHAT THEY NATIVES SAW AND WERE AMAZED, THEY THEN SPOKE TO THEIR CLERGYMEN WHO TOLD THEM TO ALLOW THE HAPSTANCE TO HAPPEN, AND TAKE THE MONEY AND TRY TO GET FOLK AWARE MIGHT THEY HAVE TO FIX THE WALL.
DAYS LATER MUSKHAWK, PAINTED HIS FACE AND GRABBED A SPEAR AND WENT IT THE FENCE AND HUNTED A STEER, HE USED A HORSE TO REMOVE THE STEER. THIS WAS DOOONE AT THE EDGE OF NIGHT. WARBIRD COMMANDED THAT THREE STONES BE REMOVED FROM THE WALL, AND THE WATER GOD COULD DO THE REST HIMSELF IF HE WAS TRULY GOD. THE SETTLERS ALLOWED SUCH. AND WHEN THE DAMN HAD BROKE, THEY SPOKE NOTHING OF IT. FOR DAYS AND WEEKS AND THAN MONTHS AND YEARS WENT BY WITHOUT ANYONE SAYING A THING. UNTIL NOW!
NO BODY BUT JESUS
There are many first responders
Doctors, nurses, lawyers and rescue workers
Laymen, clergymen, Pastor’s, preachers and teachers
Oh
Oh
But none of them
Can save you!!!
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Can save your soul
God the Father has allowed
For Christ to take the place for your sins
Only He can redeem your heart and soul
No, nobody but Jesus
No, Oh, no one but Jesus
Can make you whole
You’ll be born again, (if you choose)
No body but Jesus, Jesus the Christ
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Can save your soul
5/7/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
From anthology “Sound Track For My Life” 2018©
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, or a balloon be de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de-strings a lot!
I was born in the odds,
I lived through it,
dotted the lines on my path
I was born among hyenas,
these scrambling to stiffen the last breath,
Amidst hurts and hate first from home,
A lot cast in mirage and fantasies,
Hope too soon cut short,
Survival, a struggle,
Unexplainable Fratricidal warfare,
The closer in blood, the more bloodier,
A race without consent
A badge of calumny,
Shot on the heels like Achilles,
Bore cruelty from innocence to adulthood,
Unending miasma, the debacles of a short existence,
Abandoned, secluded,
for reaction occasioned by their own bile,
Childhood stolen,
set on a slippery path as they watch a peradventure slide to my ill.
From ambuscade, they drew their swords,
Their arrows bathed in blood unabated,
Aiming at my marrows,
I groan and mourn in the dark,
Enemies as friends monitoring,
Friends as enemies watching.
This path not by Choice.
I lived through it,
A thousand bands of beasts assaulting,
Into this war, enlisted.
I was born there, buoyed by troubadour,
Somewhere in Africa,
My right are taken away from me,
Where laws are drafted by criminals,
Where the police pay themselves on the streets,
Where certificate are mere papers with payments,
I was born there ,
Where criminals are protected and sanity deemed madness,
Somewhere in West Africa
where compassion is extinct
The survival of the fittest,
Street boys kills to survive,
Scholars abandon politics to simpleton,
Where the brightest are critics and cadres prevents the ambitious
I live there,
Where certificate is a document to escape,
Lawyers now charge and bail for survival,
Doctors protesting like urchins
Poets selling cosmetics,
bankers riding "Okada",
Amongst drug peddlers,
Amongst cultist,
Where clergymen induce the gullible,
In this cage we call country.
I was born there.
The mighty dragons which came
roaring on that fateful night
took great pride in disintegrating
everything in their sight
Nothing was left that was not
scorched by their flame
although to the fire-breathing
dragons it was all but a game
No trees were left standing
and nay grasses retained green
it took three and a half years
for the streets to scrub clean
There was no building that
wasn't burnt to an absolute crisp
The laughing dragons noted down
another wondrous trip
All the churches did indeed receive
three hundred and thirty-three degrees
The poor clergymen were seen praying
whilst fallen down upon their knees
As the puissant dragons kept up their
ferocious attack, some pastors were heard
screaming for the good lord to come back
When the libraries burned down
it was such a terrible loss for the town
as the most intelligent of the peoples
were nowhere to be found
Then all the pubs and neon clubs were ravaged and wrecked
The fire-breathing dragons just said, "We don't give a feck."
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
Plato
Politicians keep lying
Hate keeps breeding
Jets keep firing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Homes keep tumbling
Hope keeps crumbling
Time keeps ticking
Injustice keeps screaming
Funerals keep delaying
Peacemakers keep meeting
Media keeps shocking
Propaganda keeps faking
Tanks keep bombing
Earth keeps shaking
Fear keeps spreading
Soldiers keep fighting
Widows keep weeping
Sorrows keep growing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Tears keep flowing
Hunger keeps increasing
Journalists keep reporting
Poets keep writing
Music keeps playing
Teachers keep teaching
Clergymen keep praying
Preachers keep preaching
Protestors keep protesting
Faith keeps searching
Peace keeps fading
Ignorance keeps showing
Missiles keep shooting
Humanity keeps bleeding
World keeps sleeping
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, a balloon's mood de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de's things a lot!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Well when the need for more space
was mentioned, one fella spoke
and said our wives have chored and labored
and have seemed to be more
obedeaint, maybe we could build
a space were they can cook together
and make clothes together
leaving the chores to be sorted
out amongest them.
all agreed and built these places
they wanted this year
to end
with a place to celebrate together.
when winter came
the new places were
opened to
the women to sort and conspire.
night after night brawls between woman
came up across the little town.
a group of college aged men from
all walks of life desided
to not marry and they choose
secretly meet
and make pregant 37 women
who were aligned to women
they were to meet
by a creek and become pregant
29 became pregant and some of these women
were aligned to male freinds who were accussed and assumed to
be fathers.
well one day
rumors began ccircling.
some said the town clergy men had
been in consortment with goldminers who
smuggled gold from
mines far away.
and sea faring men who smuck into towns and sold
goods from ships and merchants.
It was beleived the Clergymen knew
the happens and keep
the secrets of these five year of Trulige in a box
he buried in the floor of his home.
It was said he drew a map in his bible.
and the ledger and lute was
buried 3 feet from the east window. Depth of four feet.
It was enclothed in a box
made of the roots
of a apple tree.