Long Dignitaries Poems
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I had a dream last night it reminded me of chaos
Nightmares, the reality self identified the sacrifices i made do they payoff
The butcher's got the blade in his hand but does he got a spade in his pocket
To gamble with your life , to throw it down the the drain, evil schemes do they prosper, mayhem makes it's appearance it's all like clockwork,
we all got internal engines in our brains that's why the enemies bent on
having my hand on a pillow before dignitaries ritualism is a killer
As i go back to calling on my ancestors for guidance
Ancient as the dark star who ever basked in the presence of darkness
Serpents clothe in sheep's clothing the poison still still in me only
because it didn't take my life my mind must remain open
Every 3 seconds someone dies that's the cold wind
Now bodies swell on the surface of the ocean
And earthquakes make rocks into the face of old men
like some sorority or fraternity house
left the sanctified righteous West Wing
with powder puffs sans canisters
of pepper spray, whereby
most docile, humble, and liberal took a page
from playbook of Pandora, and took an aimless swing
at the root cause of melee by hurling objet’s d’art
at the pompous trump ping
Septuagenarian, whose platoons of goons
rent asunder peoples against their king
the donnybrook heathen, whose remarks
against libertarian rubric that made America great
wantonly reviving prejudices declared dead
from yesteryear and his attempt to bring
back the glory days, when Whistler Blowers
getting water boarded and aching
deigning to implement dictatorship
of the Proletariat as a capital idée fix
weaving together, the salient strengths
viz founding fathers credo gave licks
to King George, and now in an ironic
twist and shout of fate through eclectic mix
basket of deplorables further shamed
by being routed by the New York Nicks
sewed jaws, heads of state, and dignitaries
with limping bodies spent like derricks
Oil used up and no place to go except
to keep Alice Cooper Company with toys in the attics.
Form:
I sit rolled in a corner
Almost forgotten
Quietly ignored
Crimson velveteen tufts
Densely packed
Underlay visible
Obscuring the majesty
Only ever ceremoniously unfurled
When dignitaries visit
The streets I cover
Usually covered in dust
Dirty and dank
Freshly cleaned
To impress and fool
In the fetid air
The tang of fresh paint
Dingy corners spruced
The homeless ushered away
Children beautifully laundered
Flowers lavishly garlanded
Overflowing bins emptied
So when I am laid out
And smart soles
Tread on my blushing fibres
The illusion is complete
And with my presence
The bare truth hidden
Fleetingly…
Till they have gone
And I am rolled away
Then in my absence
The putrid decay
Of real life resumes
Irony, often, enacts comically fatal roles,
Brings dignitaries down from their highest pedestal poles;
Sometimes, in a symbolically pragmatic costume,
Of the protagonist, destruction its role does assume;
Julia Gillard, Australian feminist Prime Minister,
Kitten heels! Fell over public! Earned laughter sinister!
Unprejudiced slip! Humiliated tentatively!
Escorts and envoys, though, waited on her attentively!
Her fall followed her fiery address on male chauvinism,
Fall on grass and fall-from-grace were linked to her feminism;
Did Julia Gillard abet the Western Australian State,
From the crown of the United Kingdom to terminate?
The alleged treason, with her falls, harmed her reputation,
As her opponents wished, these led to her resignation;
Conservatism of foes, I'd conclude, is cause of her fall,
To cry in wilderness, yet, she has felt, has been her call...!
20 April 2022
In suppression of treason what motive or reason Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
The half a moon hangs high above the sky watching the strangers as the pass by, the clouds above it swirl around in the town and the midnight owls are dancing around hooting at the silent wind. And the night with his toothless grin reminiscing at the hour. The branches laid out like carpet on the ground and a foul smell forcing the scavengers to circle around. They fly from tree to tree and land in the back yard of the village prince, pulling at the earth and digging up dirt. The garden fence with freshly quoted paint adds some luster to the decorum; what’s behind the wooden door with the double deck basement and the spider web covering the entrance? I went out to do my daily routine exercise as though I want an early morning surprise, so I got into the truck with my lover and he invited me to supper, the table lies bare, and we found ourselves on the ground with a tablecloth wrapped around our naked sins and the music kept chiming in. The sound of the helicopter kept swirling around as if some dignitaries were parading in town, they moved in all direction until the sounds fade away. Then I saw you standing at the gate with a smile that is deeper than mine and the stars flicker at the bright light. Stranger in the night crept upon the shore, stranger in the night knocks gentle at my door. Stranger in the walked gracefully towards, me and smile
Stranger in the night has opened my appetite.
You may notice someone in power
Wealthy in either financial fortune
Or social freedom, or popularity
That makes you feel inferior to keen
Thereafter, you wonder the reason
Underlying all the distinction between
You and them, and effort for alteration
But for whatever reason, you fail to gain
Thereafter, you turn to loose hands
And show obedience by pretending
No jealous of others luck and setting in
And forcing yourself hypocritically
Obey and flirt them by forbidding your mind
Of being dignitaries and persistence in truths
To be in cavity alike pets and tools
Without selfness and auto dominance
The doings you act are biologically right
Aside from being morally wrong
As evolution says , the doctrines are urged:
The finner you adopted to the environment
The greater chance you win the competition
But where are the moralities then?
Come on! they are hiding in your soul
Wondering when you are going" to be"
Charitable person, otherwise, hooligan!
Then tell me, what's your confidence
As a human who is morally sound
While also biologically win?
We dream dreams of impossible things
to realize the limits of our mortality
we dream of family and friends.
Of someone to love to have to hold,
love evermore or that house in the Hamptons.
We dream the dreamer dreams.
The little space to call our own to have and to hold and not let go.
In dreams dwell the lingering
images of Christmas long ago
full of family and friends big dinners after dessert arguments.
In Dreams linger the first kiss the hearts miss.
The faces of family your mother sent your father’s fist.
Dreams are of different worlds we live in different realms or realities.
Worlds were where I made the right
choice or not, a world where we took that job
or said the wrong thing.
Or are the remains of memories that linger like ghosts
in houses, no longer a home.
Where your soul roams?
We dream dreams of sorrow
and lament or bright joyful
Memories of a time gone by.
We dream dreams dreamt in
marbled halls of crimson tapestries and ornate
frames of noble lords and dark deities.
We dream of different lives lived in corporate towers
and power lunches with movie stars or dignitaries
from powerful nation-states or hop aboard starliners
and make for the Outer Reach.
We dream dreams of impossible things
to realize the limits of our mortality,
we dream of family and friends.
Of someone to love to have to hold,
love nevermore or that car you wanted to own.
We dream the dreamer dreams.
The little space to care for
to never roam
to have
to hold
do not let go.
This Is GNN
Curtis Johnson
Hello, world. Be assured that I was neither Gabriel nor Michael. Michael was not on a mission that I was aware of, and Gabriel had returned to base from his busy assignments with Zacharias and Mary.
I was a reporter for the Good News Network from the Highest Heaven.
Dr. Luke reported about me and my mission in the 2nd chapter of his book. Though he did not identify me by name, I do have a name as do all of God’s creatures. I know that it can be frustrating sometimes when we do good things and get little to no recognition. I understand, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s just that sometimes our names are not relevant or pertinent to God’s story.
Anyway, my job was to make one of the greatest announcements in the history of mankind. On one dark night as shepherds tended their flock just outside of Bethlehem, Judah, I informed them of the good news of Jesus’ birth and gave the exact location of his whereabouts.
I felt deeply privileged and honored to be chosen for such an assignment. As you know, I was not sent to the emperor in Rome, the king of Judea, or any of the great dignitaries. Rather, I was sent to lowly shepherds in a field. There again. You never knew their names either. They are the ones who saw me and an entire host of other angels.
O what a night it must have been for them!! My co-workers proclaimed peace and good will in the listening ears of humble shepherds. That’s right. Everyday people like you and other mortals of this God-loved world.
Yes, with unknown names, we filed our report and completed our mission without a hitch. We came upon this world’s stage, played our roles, and returned to heaven. The rest is history. (Impersonation)12092016 cj PS
The cross of confusion
picture the world in truth
but let your soul be wise
cos hypocrites are still born
in our world today
they seize to disappear
cos they got an obligation
it never water a true soul
no wonder they crucify
the good to keep evil alive
now we are confused
nailed with lies on
the cross of confusion
the cross of confusion
picture the world spiritually
you will see the height of evil
it numbers are numerous
it never drop
despite we were given
a holy cross
to uphold and believe
when evil befalls our soul
yet confusion never leaves
our land
either does the strangers
show love to the very cross
we behold for our lost dignitaries
were our fears bleeds Cry's for help
despite our tears drops on the images
on the cross
still confusion never leaves
us alone beholding our obligation
to this strange
cross of confusion
cross of confusion
picture the world in love
no stranger will be an intruder
their will be harmony among
the innocent people
unity will never be a song
while war will fail to be an existence
our own will never be buried young
neither will our grave yard be fill
up with innocent souls
immigration will be less
cos there will be home
for the homeless
this was our dream
a heaven we yain to
build with love
yet this evil strangers replace it
with it a deceitful cross
they played a deep game
on our spirituality
cos now all our hopes
points to
The cross of confusion
The town fathers
are long neglected by scavenging vultures,
locked up as they are,
in the wood cabin, we call the town museum.
Inside the shack, there are old tintypes, sepia
photographs and the usual rural relics.
Outside, a small patch of lawn
divides the past from a main road,
one that bridges our hamlet
between two swelling and brawling cities.
Those cities also have their metropolitan relics,
grand achievements forever displayed
for groups of bored schoolchildren.
Outside, vultures are shood away
by men in HazMat suits.
Our community fathers are black-suited
grim featured farmers and church dignitaries,
even the mayors that are still alive
look out from their portraits
as if wishing for the odd vulture or two.
Nothing else around here bothers
enough to matter much.
Fields are pushed back beyond backyards.
We killed off all the rattlesnakes years ago.