Long Displaced Poems
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...Then working with the government,
who always liked more western cash,
they set up an agreement that
they hoped could contain this backlash.
Two scientists could see the arc,
and work to verify its age,
one from Harvard, and one Cambridge,
and to Axum both made their way.
The American, an old man,
Professor Hammond was name,
the Brit was a young grad student,
named Alice, with a genius brain.
As they settled into their work
neither of the scholars could know
that in neighboring Somalia
an evil man plotted a blow.
He went by the name Ibrahim,
whether it was real, no one knew,
established as a terrorist,
an Islamist, quite tried and true.
He’d built a name in civil wars,
the kind that always racked that place,
made a reputation with force,
he left death, and people displaced.
And though the man gained followers,
he was frustrated by his land,
ruined and lacking resources,
Ibrahim was an ambitious man.
When he heard the arc had been found,
an idea grew up in his mind,
Christians and Jews worshipped the thing,
a route to more money he found.
He took with him one hundred men,
slipped the border, went to Axum,
keeping his people outside town
until shadows of nightfall had come.
Then they attacked St. Mary’s Church,
stormed the building with guns blazing,
killing priests, security guards,
anyone they found resisting.
Quickly they sieved the old relic,
took Alice, Hammond, and four priests,
hostages until they got paid,
at which point they {might" be released.
Chased by police they all fled east,
back into the Somali state,
where they hid amongst the chaos,
where all involved did celebrate.
A scheme pulled on the infidel,
they would now pay to arm their foe!
They had no choice, if they did not
then to hell their relic would go!
Ibrahim put out a message,
a video, as such types do,
demanding millions for the arc,
it was seen by more than a few.
And there was a bunch of chatter,
amongst talking heads on TV,
talking of how such a relic
just found, could soon be history.
Religious types the world over
spoke of how it would be a crime
if such a thing would be destroyed,
the loss of a wonderous find.
All knew some action would come soon,
too many folks were up in arms,
talk of commandos, and or raids,
to Ibrahim it raised alarms...
CONTINUES IN PART III.
The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice
And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear
Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice."
Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer
Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price
Malicious magic powers all the children fear
She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day
Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey
She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman
But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree
And never would be issued any wedding bann
For poverty did not amuse his family
When finding herself great with child of his, she ran
She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree
In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared
No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared
Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind,
She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew
Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind."
There was no place to go and nothing left to do
But after mournful agony she came to find
Satanic powers very evil she would rue
She met the incubi in wooded forest glen
Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin
Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold
Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r
That grew more potent as she grew extremely old
Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour
Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold
A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour
Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag
While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag
She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind
A person reaching out to all in charity
Attempted making better lives where he could find
He wanted human folk achieving parity
However, he had never met an evil mind
The succubus seduced his soul with clarity
She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks
Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks
Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him
Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose
She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb
Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes
The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim
Upon his naked body set a blood red rose
His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate
Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate
They were hated, berated, and degraded They were demoted, denied, and deprived
They were traded like livestock and treated worst than animals They were a people detained, renamed, and reduced to property
They were displaced, disgraced, disrespected, and disenfranchised They were captured, chained, and maimed; battered, beaten, and bruised
If we were one of them, how would we feel? How would we deal?
How would we heal? How would we then live?
I am saddened by their slavery, but I am inspired by their bravery. When I pause, I discover the magic of a mystery.
I clearly see virtues hidden in their tragic history. I am touched when I sense a 'virtue in their vision'.
They knew that, even if erased without a trace, they had a past. They experienced sorrow but managed the madness of their present.
Me think that their "Tomorrow in the distance" launched their untouchable souls. Though bowed and broken, they visualized tomorrow and paid the
painful toll. Me think that they saw a vision of me in the distant future living happy and free. Me think that they decried the mirrors that painted their
darkened spirit and defied the demons of misery. How else could they have survived their dehumanized plight and thrived as enslaved human beings?
Written061807; Condensed and posted to PS 02262018
Black History Month 2018
Slavery is not the end of atrocities
Suffered by minority communities
The every day systematic sway
Of bricks piled against you like
A wall of pain
So many bricks
The millions murdered for simply being
Who they were born to be black brown red
But of these I speak of what I know firsthand
The professional personal political assassination
of the collective black character is so deep
It is astonishing ingrained and denied to be a thing
For instance because there was a black president
In this racist country people say there you have equality
Nope
A system built on the back of blacks
That promotes hate of anything black
Saving a few teachers pets
Does not save the souls of those
Still being oppressed stressed and put to death
Schools are the battleground as well
We are not even teaching the truth freely
Jim Crow is alive and well look it up
The systems of government are used and abused
To keep people from getting the American Dream
The poor displaced and disgraced
Taxed to the max
While the rich enjoy perks less tax relax
When I walk in a store I am sized up and categorized
followed by security I may get service
But only if I look affluent enough and
Sometimes not even then
Depending on the store and area
When my brother walks down the street
Do you clutch your purse
No really
If he doesn’t style himself just so
Is he perceived as less than
When he goes to the bank for a loan
How often will he be denied
Or unfairly penalized
It’s deeper than slavery
We are still here suffering despite being
Called American we are treated
Not even as well as foreigners
Who seek asylum
Where is that for the brown red black people
It’s not being able to fairly compete for jobs
When corporate snobs want degrees and experience
But how do you get one before the other
When you don’t qualify for loans
Or go in so much debt for college
That the dream is deferred
Or you get the job but the pay
Is poor because you can’t afford the degree
Never mind you are doing the job perfectly
So you must get multiple jobs to eat
I’m so sick of saying that marginalized
Systematic racism in America is more than what happened then it is what is happening today now
And by the looks of it what the future holds
As the systems of old have not been replaced!
Journey starts
Kunming portraits;
Highway song
Here old and new
Merge yet apart;
Vignettes juxtapose
China welcomes
Both ancient and modern;
Sign of the times
Tour group confronts
Unfamiliar grounds;
Rough edges grind
Quaint ways of old
Ancient tales displaced;
Modern day norms intervene
Spectacular vistas
Natural wonders;
Man seems insignificant
Flood tide drowns
Flushing away;
False assumptions destroyed
Gust of wind
Reveals new passages;
Knowing does not know
Mountain peaks
Valleys well-clustered;
Fertile grounds well-used
Everywhere we go
People of all tribes;
A Chinese pageant
Human nature speaks
Polite tones sway;
Touch of humble quiet
These Chinese people:
Kind, warm, hospitable --
A touch of home
Himalayan backdrop
Mountains for company;
Melodrama purged
Methinks that I
Could hideaway here;
Unknown, undisturbed
One sure currency:
The Chinese language;
Pervasive, ubiquitous
Vast is the land
Far as our eye span;
Beyond imagery
Trades of all sorts
Risk is a sure thing;
Living is risky business
Ancient towns
Showpieces that speak;
In steady silence
Rivers and streams
Winding into quaint towns;
Ancient as old time
Pulse of the moment
Camera shutter snapshots;
Still life captured
Picture posture
By this arched bridge;
Keepsake souvenir
Sensory pursuits
Old Town bazaars;
Hasty trinkets acquired
Silver artisans
Hammer away;
Creations of white metal
Bric-bracs scattered
Awaiting curious eyes;
That impulse buy in tow
Round this village
Tourist show piece;
Modern commerce prevails
Bargains await
Hungry customers;
Weathered Oriental wares
In this roundabout square
Locals and tourists stride;
Seek new-found distractions
Spring time weather
Hot and dry and windy;
Like home without humidity
Our tour guide --
Cautions that silver jewellery
Best bought from reputable shops
Cheap price often
Compromises quality;
Authentic stuff cost much more
Lessons unlearnt
On-the-road trade routes;
Return odd regrets
A silver bangle
Heavy with 99 percent;
Quality speaks tons
Scattered eateries
Street vendors offer;
Glimpses that never die
So much to see,
Words fail description;
Feelings explore facts
Only ten days here
We see yet do not see;
Only vague interpretations
All too soon
Sojourn over;
Yunnan in mind mists
Leon Enriquez
31 May 2014
Singapore
Whenever im in public with my nephew
A generation of atleast a decade older than my current
Observe as Im flushed with hapiness
They see the bond between me and this child
As we hold hands tightly
So delicate
Dare to disturb the nucleus of the interlocked hands
As if a proton has been displaced
From its locus
Going off like a nuclear bomb
A cry of a child
They see the resemblence
As young as I am
Its inevitable to stop and ask
Is this your child
Such a cute boy they add
I look at them with resentment
One eye brow raised above the other
Not to be disrespectful but what the hell
I take a second glance
Not to the woman standing next to the man asking such a disturbing question
But to myself
I mean
im not thin
Im far from being thick
But then again my hips are not the child bearing hips that my biology text book describes
With these hips i would have probably died giving birth
On a different day, hour, second of the same week
I met a certain individual in a store
Made the same assumption about the child
Rolled my eyes
Said no
My nephew
Sorry he said
Annoyed!
But you know kids these days he pointed out
The man has a point
It came to me in a form of an epiphany
Why are kids having kids
Somebody call the paramedic
Cause this is an emergency
But if I dont sleep with him he will leave me
I dont want him to cheat
I know im ready
Im the only virgin in my circle of friends
I just wanna get over with
9 months later ur friends and him turn their backs on u
U run to the people you call mom and dad
Raised u in a christian household
Tattooed it all over your forehead
That No sex before marriage
Knowing the pains and problems that come with life
U decide to wipe it off with ignorance and selfish desires
Let me digress a bit
I cannot understand
And yet not fully comprehend why as kids we choose to please our friends
Over our parents will
Our parents hands speak in volumes
Every scratch and every bruise tell a story
About the times life hit them in the guts
And reminded their lungs of how much they like the taste of air
Our parents are our living ancestors
We can learn a lot from them
Girls stop selling your soul
In exchange of cheap love and affection
This is your life
You only get to do it once
Do it right
American Beauty
Greed stands very tall
in my land that's about to fall
America is gone
and terror knocks daily
I see him making new friends
livid displaced Americans
taken advantage of again
by those who control supply and demand
Oh, they'll try and patch and rig their machine
you can see them putting more control on the streets
I wonder if they're scared like me
but they wont give up and love
no they wont put away their greed
they'll cling to it until the very end
everybody bleeds
naked infant lying on the floor crying in the dark
pad lock on the electric box
the man just drives away
no shot was fired today
but it's coming
yeah, I know it's coming
because the neighbors just peek out the window
and nobody's offering to help
they think, "I can barely keep up with my own"
and I know
it will happen to you tomorrow
because America's gone
and it aint coming back
who has broken the pride of her power
America, nobody's coming to help
and our leaders truly care
but mostly about themselves
they are swallowed up and tangled
in their own spider webs from hell
and nobody’s coming to help
I see a hard working couple
that can't pay the rent
and yet they make to much money for welfare
they'll be out on the streets pitching a tent
and we all know that life is'nt fare
just another couple that slipped through the cracks
and there aint no coming back
in the mean while society's foundation
looks like a big city map
and the working man in our nation has become so soft
the diplomats have broken their will to fight
for what we all know is right
and greed just walks on the broken backs of the humble
with out fear and I wonder who will save us
Lord I'll be glad when the greed is gone
the strange and cruel baby sitter
sent to teach us a lesson
and I hope we all learn it soon
one cannot love their neighbor
and take advantage of him
or see him in pain and not help
love thy neighbor or die trying
the road to life
and I see beautiful people everywhere
being beaten to death by the ugly ones
who really just don't care
and I hear the banker and cops
saying, "man it's just my job"
to those that they put out
it's going to happen to you tomorrow
and what are you going to do
when you see their face turn red
as yours turns from white to blue
Form:
WHEN MISHAP CAUSED THE ENTIRE STAFF OF
THE nwwa WRASSLIN COMPANY
TO BE DISPLACED BY A MISHAP.
THE COMPANY ALLOWED
A LOW RANKING MEMBER OF THE COMPANY
TO RUN THE TELEVISION LIVE SHOW.
WHEN THE CALL CAME THAT THE PRESIDENT WOULDN'T BE HERE
NEITHER WOULD THE
RANKING MEMBER OF THE CHAMPIONSHIP COMMITTEE
AND HIS OPPOSING COUNTERPART FROM
THE CHAMPIONSHIP COMMITTEE,
THE COMPANY ALLOWED A CREWMEMBER OF THE
CAMERA TEAM TO
RUN THE NATIONAL SHOW.
THIS WAS UNIQUE AND
WE FOUND SOME MEAN SPIRITED PEOPLE WHO HAD
GRIEVANCES TO BARE
AGAINST THIS
VERY POPULAR COMPANY.
THE WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS LOST THEIR TITLES, TO OPEN THE SHOW.
THE nATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP WAS CROWNED TEN TIMES DURING THE SHOW. ( ON AND OFF CAMERA)
THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP WAS HELD-UP
AND DETERMINED A NEW CHAMPION
VIA A FIVE CORNERED FREE FOR ALL.
THEN CHAMPIONSHIP THEN WAS CONTESTED AGAIN, IN A BOUT THAT PROVED ON ANY GIVEN NIGHT
ANYONE CAN BE THE BEST IN THE WORLD.
EVEN IF THE CHAMPION HAD ALL THE ODDS AGAINST HIM
WHEN A UNDESERVING UNRANKED AND UNTALENTED GRAPPLER
ROSE TO THE OCCASION TO BECOME WORLD CHAMPION.
HIS FIRST WIN IN THREE YEARS,
HE BECAME 39(L)-8(DIS) 6(C-O) 1 (W)
THE ACTING MEMBER THEN ( SCARED TO HIS WIT'S, HE DAWNED A MASK TO HIDE HIS FACE NOT TO BE KNOWN BY THE MEMBERS OF THE STAFF AND THE ATHLETES HE WAS IN CHARGE OVER)
WHEN MADE THE DECISION TO CREATE A NEW PAY PER VIEW IN VIEW OF THE PUBLIC ( BOARD ROOM DECISION)
A MEMBER OF THE ATHLETIC COMMISION STEPPED UP TO OVERRULE HIS AUTHORITY)
THIS CREATED SOME TENSION ( IT WAS VISIBLE)
HE DREW A PICTURE OF A TROPHY, AND CALLED OUT TEN WRESTLERS
FROM TWO CORNERS HE TOLD THEM, WHOEVER IS THE LAST MAN STANDING WINS THE TROPHY, THE RULES WERE
ELMANATION COMES FROM A PINFALL IN THE RING OR IN THE RINGSIDE AREA, A COUNOUT WILL HAVE YOU TO BE SENT TO THE LOCKER ROOM. AND
HE STIPULATED, WHEN THE MATCH HAS FOUR CONTENDERS,
A TAG MATCH WILL FIND TWO MEMBERS VICTORIOUS, AND THE WINNERS
WOULD COMPETE TO BE RECOGNIZED AS THE TROPHY WINNER.
HE THAN WOULD NAME THE TROPHY WINNER THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER.
WELL IT BECAME A CLASSIC MATCH.
FOUR REFEREES
AND TEN CONTENDERS, ELIMINATION STYLE
AND THEN A CLASSIC AUSTRALIAN RULES TAG MATCH.
WHEN THE WINNER WOULD THEN COMPETE TO BE RECOGNIZED AS THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER.
I feel for gentle hearts in this loud world,
Ever suspect, dismissed and derided,
For long has been the shy a songless bird,
That Darwin dismissed as ‘odd state of head’,
Jane Austin gave shyness a broader scope,
Calling it a ‘moral, mental disease’,
And Freud, his fame fending for men no rope,
With sub-conscious cladding, a twist of his
That smelt of ‘displaced love of self-scored goals’,
A simple disposition framed as law,
Oh poking fun and scoring birdie holes,
In matters straight, cobwebs of gauze he saw,
And sensitive violets were on blame,
Poor things, shrunk with self-deprecating shame.
Violets shrunk with disparaging shame,
And shyness drawn from society’s unease,
Scarce unto standard mould can ever squeeze,
O get condemned— a jade that could be gem.
Though sensitive nigh to a gawking gaze,
Here am I basking still in benign bliss—
A shy soul, they say, more inventive is,
And tolerant the more to worldly ways
That mistake plane shyness as being cold,
Aloof, and worse still, somewhat arrogant,
And value those that be loud, neddless bold,
I’m happy now that they were ignorant.
Let critics bask under ill-informed bliss,
I marvel, how creative this bird is.
Creative, this touch-me-not kind of bird,
Or call it a flower called violet,
An introvert of an easy mind-set,
One blessed with fecund skills, a bit absurd—
Skills lacked by too talkatively inclined,
While some greats confess to ‘fainting with fears’
Ere giving speech to some so-called speakers,
Some loners lack the skills called social kind.
I know, shyness has no one ever hurt,
But self that feels cosy under own skin.
Let shyness stay forever verdant green,
Let it never make me an extrovert,
That I live in my own solitude proud,
Innovative, gentle in world so loud.
_________________________________
Two recent books set my thinking bird brooding over bashfulness: The Man who mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks; and Shrinking Violets: The Secret Life of Shyness, by Joe Moran. These books advocate that the shy should get a better deal, for they tend to be more creative. Here is the why: musing over, these three sonnets (crown of…) materialized that made me feel a bit elated.
Crown of Sonnets | 01.03.2017 |
You are my life and in that I believe
Always my love will be only for you
Flattering though that sounds I must confess
My first love is chocolate - sad but true
Sensual visions to capture the feel
Bringing the contours of wind sculpted plains
Hold that thought even though I love it so much
Must let the dog out before he drives me insane
Shimmering soft on the eclipse of love
Cloudless these evenings of star sprinkled mist
Just looked - no lustrous stars in this sooty sky
But stay for chocolate drizzled cake - I do insist
I drink in your fragrance
Tasting the flavors, your moistened lips
I heard something of interest today,
Chocolate doesn’t go to the hips
Kiss me ‘midst the maples
Kiss me ‘long the shore
Kiss me o’ my precious one
Now and ev’r more
Its thirsty work I must confess
This kissing and walking along the shore
A chocolate sundae sounds rather good
At that quaint little place that I do adore?
I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
My! you do know how to set the mood
I can’t go past this - you do know me
The night feels right the lights are turned low
What’s this the video has stopped? Hello!!
Johnny has left the building? Just when I wanted more
No matter- my debonair poet of delight
Conjure me up some George Clooney tonight
Well set aside your chocolate pie
For Hollywood is coming by
And as you explore your favorite star
I’ll enjoy that Hershey bar
Oh Fickle Heart chocolate second placed?
From gold to silver - it’s now displaced
Footnote:
I’ve used George Clooney as he is globally acclaimed as the most favored flavor in the ratings.
Personally, I favor the more 'Bono' type - (I love his voice)
Paul David Hewson, known by his stage name Bono, is an Irish singer-songwriter, musician.
Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green, poet extraordinaire for sparing some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement.
Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 12 July 2017