Long Colleges Poems
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He was just another foulmouthed saint
“halo” tilted jauntily to one side
wings tucked neatly into a dirt stained jacket
aura – lightly tinged with a sparkle of dust.
cussing – his milieu of mindfulness
spitting – his punctuation marks.
Yet they always sought him out
sat with him, tapped his endless time,
shook their heads in awe of his irreverence.
He said “that if the shadow you cast
isn’t longer that that of the church
you should find another church”.
Claims he read a book – ONCE
built a few colleges
never attended one.
He had a predatory edginess
patrolling, protecting, shepherding,
all who entered his domain.
His face absorbing the pain of his vision
watching the innocent betrayed
by sweet talking charlatans
he would occasionally straighten his halo
unfurl his rumpled wings
tell them to “F..k off!” – and spit!!
He was just another Foulmouthed Saint.
John G. Lawless
©5/30/2018
Thunder Cats roared onto the cartoon scene in the Eighties.
Bringing forth SHE-roes and Heroes which was exciting for many.
My children probably enjoyed them, I do not remember.
This was during the time when TV was guiding them more than I was.
I was attending three colleges simultaneously
Trying to get a degree in something so I could make a living.
I do recognize the music of Thunder Cats
And I recognize the SHE-roe attitude in all three of my daughters.
I have a Thundercat shirt I wear sometimes to school.
As a reminder that my children not only survived
But thrived
Thanks to creative cartoonists
who decided to empower women in the eighties.
I wish they had been around twenty years earlier
When all we saw on TV were happy women wearing
pearls and full dresses, loving their washing machines and dryers.
It’s boxing day (the Brit name for the day after Christmas) and Pamela, Lisa’s grandmother is visiting our little pandemic ark. Pamela’s a Cowboys fan so we’re watching them slaughter Washington - between commercials - but now a Tesla commercial is running. “Those electric cars,” Pamala says dubiously, “seem problematic.”
“You’ve heard of global warming, haven’t you, Pamala?” Leeza says? Leeza addresses everyone (even her grandmother) as if they were her age (12). It’s both seductive and lazy. “This whole system,” she raises her arms to include the apartment, the city and America, “will collapse - we’re DOOOOMED,” she concludes, as if speechifying to an eager crowd.
“Everyone’s heard of climate change,” Pamela says, sipping her eggnog. Pamela is as well informed as any of us and seems rather envious of the future, even the coming awfulness.
“Leeza’s her own theatre,” Her mom says, grimacing indulgently.
Leeza’s full attention was now on the pastry tray - having spotted two small eclairs under the bear claws - she'd lost interest in the conversation and saving the planet.
“The system won’t collapse,” Will says. Will received his early acceptance letter from Harvard the other day and now he knows everything. “We’ll lose Florida, South Carolina and New York,” he pronounces calmly, “so there’ll be some.. migrations.”
“Thank you, professor,” Lisa says, rolling her eyes as if to say ”Harvard people.”
“I think the Covid might get us all - before climate change,” I say, in the spirit of the holiday.
“Well,” Will says, grinning, “that’s what ALL the people at inferior colleges think.”
Leeza, passing by my easychair, curls into my lap like a cat, gently petting my hair. “Don’t be mean to MY friend,” she says, purringly - I was suddenly her possession. Lisa comes out of her chair, a sly smile on her face, to lay crosswise atop Leeza (and me).
“Ugg,” I managed to say, squirming to get comfortable, then “Akkkk.”
Lisa says, “Leave my poor roomie alone!” and starts baby-kissing my head.”
Will starts in our direction like HE’S going to pile on. “Egggg! I shrek, “HELP!”
Pamela whoops with glee as Dallas scores another touchdown.
“Like beating a dead dog with a stick,” she says.
Afrobeats 2
The Sound That Crossed the Ocean
Africa, united in the harmony of the rhythm
Let no one be left behind in this central hymn
Support, call up the starts-ups with 'collabor' on stages
Free studios, supporting lyrics and set up colleges.
Not one lone artist carrying the flame,
But many voices rising into fame.
Burna Boy marched forth, the African Giant's cry,
Filling vast stadiums beneath the sky.
Wizkid opened worldwide doors with ease,
Turning "Essence" into oceans, winds, and breeze.
Davido brought pure joy with every song,
Flavour, proving African rhythms could belong
Upon the charts that once seemed far away,
Now conquered by the sounds of every day.
Then came a younger wave with blazing power,
A generation claiming its own hour.
Rema's "Calm Down" echoed everywhere,
A billion hearts responding to its prayer.
Tems arrived with allure on her sways and velvet in her voice,
Making global audiences jump in rejoice
.
Asake fused the old and modern art,
Fuji thunder beating in each heart.
Now cities move to one collective goal,
A dance that speaks directly to the soul.
From Johannesburg to New York's crowded lights,
From Accra's beaches to Dubai's bright nights.
Afrobeats is more than music, more than trend,
It is a bridge where continents can blend.
A declaration sounded far and wide:
That African creativity need not hide.
The world now sways to rhythms once ignored,
Honouring a tradition and culture long outpoured.
And every drumbeat carries history's call:
Africa did not arrive at the feast late.
Africa brought the music for all.
Why was such beauty hidden?, Held back all these years mate?
We want to heal-
scab stealers wont allows us too
sneaking up on us-
giving us new busy work
side trackers –
killing us
the only hope we had left
invested in our progeny.
progenitors
Our children become our ancestors
Arrested -
Denied freedom.
assaulted,
Degrading us our offspring.
They make examples out of noble men.
Leaders not knowing what day will
be their personal doomsday while
They recite a healing prayer on balconies
Thinking “is this my end”.
"As they risk healing folks in large crowds with
un-trusted friends watching their backs
Let me get these words in As
We begin to heal from
the power of love.
These "scab thieves’ who snatch
scabs off the old wounds.
Create and open new wounds,
As they dare us to heal.
We fall to the ground.
as the targets keep
Dropping they
Kill the mighty to
Control the weak.
We are angry -No time to heal -
Angry People
Bopping ignorant
Pop ups- Bobble heads, popping up
like bobble heads at a carnival.
We needed the big black men-
who soon after that
Perplexed us
Who were they that stood
on Hunter street?
In front of Paschal Brothers
Over near "Don Clendenin’s"
surrendering
Waving White hankies
at tricks and enemies
We are bleeding now...
The scab makers are winning
where and from wince –
Do they come from?
or go to?
Wall Street or colleges-
White collar preppies-
promoting separate causes.
We still chant
Free Mandela
“we loved him too
They all were gone
to the grave or to prison.
Many wounds open
blood everywhere.
Perplexed.
Things fall apart again in...2013
2013 is here.
We are still with open wounds
Remember now wonder
can we heal if they?
keep re-opening our wounds.
My tolerance is no more for
nincompoops and
Poot—butts, chastising
Empresses and Kings.
Knowing nothing....
While pulling off scabs
Who am I, if I lose focus?
There will be no us-
So, I relent,
Leaving them where
they are - or at least
where I found them!
I really feel that until I die
I have a connection to someone’s
future I have wounds to heal.
I must remember-
“I cannot get angry for you”,
Lest I get stuck fighting your battle.
“I will get angry with you”
I will fight aside of you.
Unexpected Pleasure
Two thousand thirteen; high school graduate,
the older of two granddaughters close by,
with love of reading, writing, she knew that
to teach would be 'the apple of her eye'.
Of many colleges searched out she found
none seemed to please her goals and course design.
Then one fine day, it came to both of us...
my local 'Alma Mater' might be fine.
Though close, she lives on campus to pursue
an Education with English degree.
And she proceeds to learn and thrive; even
directs the college club of poetry.
So, now this little change enhanced my life;
a reason to again become involved
in my old college, going back and forth
to visit her, and so my time evolved
into attending many school events,
to reunite with old professors there.
I graduated at age forty-five,
so many greeted me with welcomed care.
This choice of her attending my old school
opened the door for both of us to share
the love of English, writing poetry;
she lives on campus, yet is just right there.
One year to go, and she will graduate.
These past three years did nothing but amaze
how we both shared my 'Alma Mater' school...
my granddaughter helped me relive those days.
Sandra M. Haight
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I graduated Mount Saint Mary College in my hometown
in 1984. My granddaughter will graduate in 2017.
The college has excellent Education, Nursing, and Business
degree programs. It is less than five minutes from my home.
Ventriloquist---
Tongue, mouth, brain, hands
My arm and hand in your back
With my lips tightly closed
You see my face I utter not a word
But I am screaming, singing, talking, yelling
Voice appear to come from this dummy
Did I say my arm and hand in his back
Guess I'm just a ventriloquist
With my lips tightly closed
You see my face I utter not a word
Puppet in hand no, really
But I am screaming, singing, talking, yelling
Voice appear to come from this dummy
Look I insist see no moving lips
I'm just the greatest ventriloquist
I'm a David Strassman enjoys anonymity
Is most noted for developing strong personalities
I'm a Jeff Dunham currently the highest grossing touring comedian
The creation of Achmed The Dead Terrorist
I'm Terry Fator a Las Vegas performer winner of America’s Got Talent
I am Paul Zerdin, a favorite on television, often found entertaining on the Disney Cruise Line
I am Nina Conti hails from the United Kingdom. with her puppet Monk has brought her television fame ability for ad-libbing
I'm Jay Johnson Jay gained fame on the ground-breaking television show SOAP
I'm Taylor Mason grand prize winner on Star Search, earning $100,000 and it wasn't a hoax
I'm Mark Wade
I is America's most foremost kid
I'm Lynn Tretzger hilarious female ventriloquist often entertains at colleges, on cruise ships of sorts
I'm Tom Crowl earned a living making people laugh for over 30 years
best known for his groundbreaking online ventriloquism course
You see my face I utter not a word
Puppet in hand no, really
But I am screaming, singing, talking, yelling
Voice appear to come from this dummy
Look I insist see no moving lips
I'm just the greatest ventriloquist
6/17/18
Ventriloquist Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:Anthony Slausen
We spent thousands of dollars
On our children’s education
Friends advised that we send them to State colleges
Less expensive they said
Not as prestigious we replied.
After spending money, time and energy
We have little to brag about
Our children,
Young adults now,
Part of a lost generation,
Have come back home
Desperate about their futures
Unable to find jobs.
There are moments when
We feel that we
Have failed them
But our children are tougher than we think
They do their part
They network
They are computer savvy
They know they must start
In jobs lower than expected
After all
Wasn’t it said
Generations ago
That without a future
There can be no tomorrow?
It was 1988
And things seemed great
I walked off the stage
With a degree at the right age
There were changes abound
As I entered life’s next round
One happened a few years later
When bowl games needed to get things straighter
On New Year’s Day Night
The Orange Bowl was colleges big time sight
Granted on another network sugar was being splashed
With this game that could springboard one to nice professional cash
With a nice halftime show
It was a nice way to let last year go
But there was one network’s selfish greed
That tarnished the gridiron holiday gift underneath the tree
They wanted it all
And stopped at nothing including putting the parent company’s store in the mall
Due to this obsession
Athletics saw nothing that would define the word recession.
More bowls were put in place
To allow every student athlete a chance to build their talented case
But it was the Orange Bowl who had a foe
Direct from Epcot France featuring the French Quarter drunken trance.
New Orleans had the party the night before
Hours in front of midnight when they showed the old year the door.
Someone in a yellow jacket made the shift to compete with the King of Orange’s tropical gift
Now the viewer needed to do a little remote control clickering
To ease the family’s bickering.
Today King Orange will stay out of the way
Of New Years Day
Instead they play a day before we say goodbye
To the year that gave a good try.
With a team from the VA that will need a good military strategy to find the winning way
And another team from the north part of the state it should be a nice game that is worth the luring bait
But it is that wonderful halftime production
That has found itself through the years getting reduction
They have tried everything
Including getting celebrities to sing
To combat this couple minutes of rest
That makes the players ponder on how well they are doing on the gridiron final exam test.
In closing good luck to the two teams
As they deal with tropical greens
Finding out what everything means
While playing this game in their dreams.
Fling the doors open
And let out the stagnant air
Open the board up windows
It’s time to breath fresh air.
Sweep out the dirty corners
And prepare for a powerful rejuvenation
Gather the dust in a bundle,
Empty it in the Pacific Ocean
Then dip four times in the Atlantic Ocean.
Take a stroll along the corridors
Look your enemies in their eyes and
Greet them with a victory smile
Salute them with your mystical love
And set ablaze their self-inflected flame
There is no doubt about this
You will go down as one of the bravest
Solomon the wisest you the greatest
And victorious one
Sound it on the mountain top
Across the rippling desserts
Walk through the market places
The inner-cities, burnt out villages
Busy streets and crowded towns
Visit the little old lady in the tattered house
Located on the deserted side of town
Shower her with hopeful words
Your presence alone will embrace
And nurture her weary soul
Make your way to the orphanage,
Wounded warriors
and the struggling ones
A simple touch with your powerful hands
Will answer the prayer of the weeping ones.
Go to the schools and colleges
With words of comfort and love
Stop over places where you are not welcome
And radiate them with persuasive sentiments.
All some people need is a can of beer,
a cup of hot chocolate or good cheers .
Disperse the spirit of hope,
Perseverance and good expectation
And when night comes
Walk in the streets and sing
Sing with timbrels and cheerful songs
You are an inspirational icon for everyone.
Your rhetoric’s are strong, use it to move along.
Use what works best for you
Negotiations or forgiveness
And climb straight to the mountain top
With a hammer, a sledge or a cable car
Ropes and boots or just the magical you
Silence the poisonous networks
Give them something to talk about
Lift up your injured wings and start to sing
Join with the throng of angels in the grand jubilee
You are strong and ready to fly again.
Tarry no longer because you have won
Raise your banner
And wave it high in the sky
You have just defeated your enemies
With compelling love
And your gigantic wings.
©2013 Christine Phillips