Long Crude Poems
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My God knows the way I am.
He knows my every thought.
He knows the things I've said and done,
And seen the dreams I've sought.
He knows my heart for what it is,
Knows each and every mood,
Depending not on what He's heard,
From those who think me crude;
For Man looks on the outer crust,
And sees not what's inside.
He hears but words that oft times twist,
And turn the truth to lies;
But God looks on the heart of Man,
And judges that instead,
Not foolish thoughts or actions,
Words that twist inside the head;
So do not judge your neighbor, Friend.
You don't know what's inside.
You only know the words you've heard,
That play tricks with your mind.
If you truly love your friend,
The way you love yourself,
You'll make the same excuse for him,
That you make for yourself.
DON DIDDY'S DEEDS
Diddy, the daring, dashing dude,
Dabbled in dalliances, oh so crude.
Darting through dreams, dollars, and deucing.
Dangling diamonds & jewels, with his schuffel dancing.4
Diddy dabbled, dashingly with deals & diamonds,
Emotionally locking Cassie, his victims in bounds.
Danced with danger, without any care,
Dazzling in debauchery, beyond compare.8
He drummed down the drive, desperados asleep.
His dirty dealings drift so demonically deep.
His escapades, oh, how they continued to soar,
Delighting in debonair exploits galore.¹²
Dabbling in dalliances, some would say,
Diddy, the dope dapper, led the way.
Defiantly dancing, Diddy dodged the daylight,
Detouring, dipping, delightful in his play-fight.¹6
But alas, his luck began to wane,
Dastardly deeds led to disdain.
Doomed to dwell within a jail,
Diddy's deeds finally met their entail.²°
“Damn these daring deeds,” Diddy declared,
As the dense, drowsy dungeon despaired.
Dunce-cap deputies, with a look of disdain,
Debated if Diddy’s destiny was to end his reign.²4
"Won't stop, can't stop", the detainees danced & mocked.
A fate worse than death now seem a must.
His he gon' do the Harlem schuffel all day?
Or he's gon' be boys' bombarded like bombey?²8
I hope the good ones don't bend over
To pick up the soap, else rectum will suffer.³°
Some of the boyz buddies want Honey Combs,
Don Diddy might finally run out of all hopes.
So here ends the tale of dirty Diddy's flight,
From daring escapades to a cell so tight.³4
Let this be a lesson, loud and clear.
Dabble in decency, & never let dirty deeds appear.³6
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Alliteration/Rhymes
Copyright ©December 2023.
I am lost here
With no escape,
Oozing good cheer
Now ever drapes.
Feel hurting pains
Seize and possess,
Cold drenching rain
Now floods access.
Time seems too late
To unplug fear,
Here by odd gate
Seek long-lost cheer.
Lost in deep thought
In surreal lands,
Crisscross crude clot
Last bloody stand.
Cold as brain freeze
In numbing chill,
A leaking sneeze
Scatters dumb will.
Dance deep defiance
This profound fool,
A sad alliance
As folly spools.
Crude with loud noise
The fatal dive,
In spite of voice
No poise survives.
No one can save
The stupid face,
Save love most brave
In touch of grace.
Yes you can see
No escape here,
Except to free
Soul's mosaic cheer.
Leon Enriquez
20 April 2017
Singapore
Speak if you must in wild card fling,
Each surge now shows how harsh pun cites;
Note crude blind trust as flashback springs,
Streaks of vain flow greet fragile bites;
Obsess the grain of hollow mood,
Rush of fire then swallows all;
Ignite the strain that burns dry wood,
Attest just when strange crackles call;
Life myopic is but a choice.
Meet vague etchings in fate most vain,
Yield dystopic worn jaded poise;
Old line sketching forfeits complaint,
Pique of pride swells an empty mind;
Ink stains now tell of heart most blind,
Apt flavours dwell in moments kind.
Leon Enriquez
22 March 2018
Singapore
Urals Crude
Don’t ever think they’re civilised, like us.
Their oil is coarse, not like our smoother Brent.
Their prices? Now augmenting, ten percent.
And sanctions have been lifted. What’s the fuss?
Well, once you squeeze the zit, you get the pus.
They’ll flood the market with their excrement.
Why can’t you see it, lapping round our tent?
Ukraine is done. Zelenskyy’s missed the bus.
The Orange Baby trashes everyone.
They’re all abused by Disrespectful Don.
And yet, there’s something uglier and bigger.
We’ve missed, alas, his most atrocious con.
He could, but wouldn’t dare, opine upon
how Moscow helps the Shi’ite cause. Go figure.
You’re All Screwed
That empires come and go, we’re all aware.
Where is the Pharaoh now? The Hoplite? Hun?
They all supposed that dominance is fun,
and once you’ve got it, once you’re really there,
it’s yours for ever. Never will you share
the goodies. Since you have the biggest gun,
you’ve certified your station in the sun.
(There is no sun – there’s only solar flare).
What makes us think we’re special? Folks, we’re not.
Our mighty here-and-now is just a dot:
our Mister Ballroom, more like Mister Bean.
Barbarity is where we’re from, and what
awaits us will be terminal and hot,
without a jot of culture in between!
As a mother, Christ gave heed to the woman's plea.
For him, days of work or Sabbath days did not count.
From their selves, he observed, the human creatures flee
For eighteen years, the Book says, she was evil-bound.
She got bent by burdens of societal flaws.
Crude communal clouds had blocked drizzles of graces.
How long should she be clenched within crocodile claws?
She felt, at the advent of Christ, healing traces
Murmurs of cynics melted at Christ’s sunbeam smile.
Don't you untie your cattle on a day of rest?
His touch healed in the crippled all that was senile.
Feet of Times stopped for a moment, feeling blessed.
Stand straight; this is what, to all crippled, Jesus says.
The dissonants should get rid of their rude ways.
See senses swing
Taut tensile things
Word wonder well
Spread sanguine spell
Time tunnels tense
Seek subtle sense
Ply precious play
Sweet summer strays
Loud laughter leaps
Proud pretence peeps
Claim clever clout
Pose pretty pout
Perchance prompt pay
Storm simple sway
Gloomy grime grey
Misty moods may
Wonder words well
Boom buys bright bell
Free frosty feel
Hurl happy hay
By briskly brook
Lift lasting looks
Charm crispy cheer
Niche nurtures near
End echoes etch
Save succinct sketch
Note nasty nude
Cute clam ours crude
Frame fleeting flame
Toil tussles tame
Leon Enriquez
13 October 2016
Singapore
POIGNANT ECHOES
(Combo Verse Forms)**
Go with the flow, go with the mood;
Live what you know, live what feels good.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Wind sifting
Bamboo vines sway;
Dawnlight bursting
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Love wears a style,
Zest works the glow;
Charm floods a smile,
Pulse primes the show.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Listen
Empower
Enlightenment
Walking in the sure light
Now here
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Love
Live
Beauty
Pulsations
Bamboo in the wind
Rapture in sensational feel
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Becoming tints, being hurls poise;
Lovely lines surge, lively words fling;
Brilliant touch mint, crazy hint voice;
Purge of sure urge, choice feels the sting.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Lines and lines dash,
Piles and piles clash!
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Salty sea spray, wind in my face;
Play primal pay, glimpse glowing grace;
Unknown this day, this abrupt space.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Choice follows poise
Be of good cheer
No need to rush
Things happen
For a good reason
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Poignant feelings in sacred forfeit here;
Malingering maelstrom of crude satire;
Living and loving in precious good cheer.
Belief beyond the enlightenment fire;
Spur in sure feel of fanatical sire.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Leon Enriquez
14 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: Combo Verse Forms** -- Sequence as follows:
1 Couplet, 2 Haiku, 3 Quatrain, 4 Cinqku,
5 Fibonacci, 6 Quatrain, 7 Couplet, 8 Rhyme 3-line,
9 Free Verse 5-line, and 10 Terza Rima fragment.)
Quote: “The healing power of time is not a myth but a reality. Given enough time, most emotional pain eases and eventually disappears altogether.” – Allan J. Adler
Time, the alchemist of wounds,
When my heart is shattered, and despair consumes,
I am imprisoned in dungeons of darkness and solitude,
But time's fleeting touch offers solace, a momentary interlude.
Time, the mender of sorrows,
Weaving a tapestry of healing tomorrows,
Yet the heart remains in fragments, shattered and torn,
Your presence lingers, in every sunbeam and moonlit morn.
It may take an age, a lifetime or more,
To find someone who understands the depths I explore,
Together we'll embrace the blossoms, the birds, and the bees,
Discovering pearls in oysters, on sun-kissed shores by the seas.
Time, the essence that forever slips away,
In my pursuit, I often forget the love that holds sway,
Attachments and desires, earthly and crude,
Peace of mind resides in relinquishing their delude.
For in surrendering to the divine's embrace,
Time finds eternity, a tranquil, timeless space.
terza rima
Years of experience, a discovery -
I can speak without making use of my jaws.
Prudence and patience are rudimentary.
Some folks get their kicks using scuttlebutt claws.
Their tongues' crude vitality comes with closed eyes;
emotional blindness - the probable cause.
Starting with prejudice, they out and out lie.
When asked, I stand silent, comments I refuse.
To their third-degree grilling I can't reply.
Some fake aggravation, crying through tissues.
But demurring to speak, objection I raise.
Honesty is one of many dead issues.
Bidding no farewell, I leave, making my case,
which makes me their next target, no hesitance.
My objection overruled, noise fills the place.
Turning my back on verbal vindictiveness,
this fugitive from gossip needs no redress.
13 March 2016