Long Enslaved Poems
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I often shrink back and lose my faith,
God’s love with abandon I crave and chase,
I have moved mountains with just a glimmer of hope,
I have enslaved nations and to children sold dope,
I am the salt of the earth and a scourge of mankind,
I strive with all that I am to dwell in Christ’s mind,
I am caught up in fear and many of its lies,
I intercede against the enemy so that all might rise,
I reflect Christ perfectly and defame his name,
I have the courage of David and bare Judas’ shame,
I have betrayed and been loyal,
I am Battered and bruised, triumphant and royal,
I have victimized others and acted in malice,
With many afflicted I have shared his love’s chalice,
I am divine and depraved,
I am soiled and saved,
I am a Christian, caught up in hypocrisy’s web,
And many to the light of love I have led,
I am a Christian and when my fullness is revealed,
You will see the lame walk, and the afflicted healed,
I am a Christian and though I don’t look it now,
One day you will see me and your heart will scream loud,
That you have seen God incarnate in all of her glory,
That you have seen a solution to this life’s worry,
That you have seen the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost too,
I am a Christian, I love Jesus, and so can you,
And together we will fall and together rise high,
To embrace our blessed savior in the cosmic sky.
I was walking beneath the dimness of a misty night
With a cheerful mind full of optimism, “all is well”.
Myriad noises were hovering in hectic riots of light
Yet one mild voice made my silent conscience swell.
I was passing by so hurriedly while I abruptly heard
A grave utterance of an infant unto another, saying,
“Really, people of this world have become so bad”.
I became astounded by a kid’s deep understanding.
Cynicality has left a mark even in softest of bosom.
I wonder why an innocent child would remark thus
Though it had not met with reality, harsh, gruesome.
Or was it already a victim, like each enslaved mass?
Perhaps his tiny eyes too observed the human-fiend
That devours the weaker ones with their sharp teeth.
Raw power is hovering around the afflicted mankind
And camouflaging, many Evils are rising underneath.
And to all those I have wronged
I am remorseful
For my life is an enigma
And at times I lose my way
Like a mad dog that goes astray
Enslaved by tribulations
That fails to go away
And reason becomes an absurdity
As my sanity fades away
Like a stallion
In the misty wilderness
Who comes back at dawn?
My mind awakes
Replenish with life with the warmth of the sun
And rejuvenates like a new born
To drink from the lake of life
And to start another sojourn on earth
To get what is left to take
And remember those I shall never forget
And those I shall not forsake
Dreams unfilled
Living a life that is less thrilled
Ruled by plutocrats and kleptocrats
Who served the god of money
He takes your soul in return for a drop of honey
Friends come and friends go like the autumn wind
It s cold
So is life
For all that glitters is not gold
Standing on principle is worthless in the land of lunatics
Where religion is used as a weapon
By the raging fanatics
And freedom is used to enslave you more
For the oppressors we see
Are worse than the oppressors we saw
It is worthless for a bleeding pauper
The world sees not those who suffer
Except those who bask in the euphoria of wealth and stupidity
And who disgust those who live a life of humility
For the puppet master still pulls my strings
He is the god we see
Who controls all that life brings
And those artificial things
But time will vindicate the righteous
If you are true indeed so
When it blows
The wind of change
Everybody knows
Sound of chance
Fills the air
And ends your despair
Time servers and sycophants will perish
So will all that they cherish!
And relish
Hidden secrets locked away in the chest of the truth
Now unlocked
And I regain exuberance
Like I have bathed in the Fountain of Youth
For I have vowed to speak the truth
Parasites and worms that feed on the dead and the living
But never care for others because
They are never giving
Kings and nobleman were born of slaves
They are blind when they hold the mantle of authority
They fall because they know not the meaning of prosperity
A divide house can never stand
So let us unite
Form:
I see myself as I really am
A broken-down, unstable dam
A mighty lost, little lamb
I hear myself as I walk around
I'm a valley, below the ground
A lot of mixed feelings per pound
He, the Lord, is the mountain above
His spirit shimmers and soars as a dove
Merciful and mindful is He with abound love
I whisper in the atmosphere below
I pray in solitude's hold though...
Overcome the hardship and the pain of rain aglow
The sun is but a shadow, hidden and alone
The moon is but a reflection, slightly shone
The clouds of dreariness is but a lone bone
I am who I am and I, alone, won't be enslaved by regret
I am His lamb, a well-built dam by His illuminating empowerment, all needs and wants met
Humility and obedience are lifelong traits to achieve I bet
Give me eternal fire to burn away the snowstorm of shamefulness
Lift me up, don't weigh me down like gravity's hopelessness
Feeling and dealing with mixed sentiments per pound more or less
These bittersweet, pitiful emotions
Collide like two polar-opposite oceans
These hideous, yet precious notions -
We meet again...
Anything can be a weapon if you just put your mind to it
Some would call this creativity, others fear inducing
Even the mundane can be forged into an enemy of peace
Violence exists without need for movement
Weapons can be born from neutrality
Even the elements can be turned into an enemy
Used to cover up a dark history
Neutrality became a tool to the racist
Using power and narrative to manipulate -
The normality of a mundane situation
Using the simplicity of neutral existence to work in their favour
Using the innocence of nature to cover up their discriminatory behaviour
They talk of the beauty of the ocean, as if it inhabits peace -
When in reality it's filled with the enslaved bodies
Who chose death over being your 'keep'
How you glaze over the history of plantations with its 'idyllic scenery'
It was never about the beauty of the world it was just about covering up black history
And all the bodies you killed, kept hidden for centuries
A lick of paint can make a room look new and fresh
But those attempts to hide the damage, won't fix the cracks you try to suppress
The truth will always see the light of day and just like the 'cracks' in the wall it will not be oppressed
Freedom
Degradation, demoralization
Doom, destruction, decadence
And the masses still cry ’Freedom!’
None of this even makes sense
Free to live out every feeling
Every thought and every dream
This will better life and people
Well at least, so it may seem
We should be the freest spirits
With no one to answer to
Life will give us utmost pleasure
Dare not say this isn’t true
Let us revel in denial
Let us be and let us live
No explaining, no correction
Do not force us to forgive
Tell us not of repercussions
We are living by the day
We won’t hear of consequences
If all it does is cause dismay
Freedom is what we are craving
And we get it, each his own
Whether it restricts another
Empathy will not be shown
And the more we long for freedom
The more we all become depraved
Mind the shackles of this freedom
For it wants us all enslaved.
Wendy Nipas
My typewriter
was not a good typewriter,
its keys were weighty,
you had to use brain muscle to work it,
nobody wanted it.
My son unpacked a home computer.
I stood by and watched
as all the electronics were laid out on the floor
and surgically knitted together.
I knew then
that I would be consistently out of touch,
and possibly would remain
stuck in an obsolete year
trying to catch up
from the rear of the field.
I wrote my first poem
on that clickity-clack manual machine,
then a dozen more,
all of them were heavy handed,
yet that hefty labor
made me think
I was crafting something worthwhile.
Later, I was enslaved to a computer keyboard,
chained as I was to its subsonic urgings
I could tell
the world was speeding away
faster than I could write.
When my kind of poet dies,
he is immediately ed,
for all his contemporary poems
turn into digital wormholes
that suck him into an unknown grave.
The young look to dead poets for wisdom -
truth is,
that those ham-fisted plodders
have long ago
turned into chunky typewriters
that nobody wants.
As the last twinkle
In the brown eyes of Jesus
Faded to heaven
The morning star left Jesus
Darkness covered all
The sun of the archons set
The binding veil torn
Those ones in the sleep of death
Were awakened hence
For the sun of Christ rose up
Envy and dumbness
Were left in the empty tombs
Now they are children
Of the sweet infinite light
Of the sweet white lamb
Though the cup of bitterness
Was always given
To the sons of shining light
By Jerusalem
Yaldabaoth and his archons
In the pride of night
Refused to admit the truth
That they killed Jesus
Allowing Christ to succeed
Which destined their fall
Jews did not deserve their wrath
A wrathful sentence
From the sword of Yaldabaoth
With no foreign aid
The city was encircled
By an iron ring
Cutting them off from the world
Leaving the ash wolf
To burn in their sliced stomachs
The ash to the ash
Men ate the ash of their young
The dust to the dust
Young at the dust of the old
But both lost their soul
The city burned in fury
Turning all to ash
The temple of gold and white
Glory of Saklas
Met flames of orange and red
From his blind fury
Three towers of soot gazed down
At those ones enslaved
At Hades's consuming flames
And stood with the sky
As a last testimony
Of heaven's glory
By the order of Titus
The glorious gold
Of the second day's temple
Was ripped out proudly
By the gold feathered eagle
With a purple tongue
The temple's gold was taken
To his cage named Rome
Hundreds of thousands of Jews
And many Gentiles
Of innocents lost their breathe
Jews were crucified
Nailed by Yaldabaoth's anger
And nailed on despair
To mock the nailed lamb of white
The eagle of gold
Was too useful for Saklas
To tear apart yet
For he hunted and slaughterd
Sheep of shining light
In bunches of dripping red
With his claws of white
But this wrath tore the red veil
From the third temple
Veil of Mosaic patterns
Was torn from Christ's Bride
Showing her face of beauty
Showing her soft lips
Skin glittered with gold and white
And eyes of twinkling gnosis
Endurance:
Keep changing perspective;
If only to combat the dwindling light~
Each droplet of
tear from me shall shine,
My beauty
shall stand tall,
I shall bloom
to the happiness of those I love,
And my love shall stay the same
Until I fall.
My heart searches the airwaves for an answer...
Feeling for a pulse,
For a bead of life.
Tired and torn,
My understandings shatter like glass...
Teardrops line the cracks and gaps
That exist between the fragments
Of my scuffed and scattered mind.
Memories dance like a rogue sunbeam
Sparkling on the sequins of my blouse.
Like silver stars twinkling across a sea of Burberry carpet,
Flashes of inspiration capture my wandering eye.
A twist of thread lies on the floor before me;
Black and tangled,
Free and formless...
A stark contradiction to my carefully catalogued
Collections of thought.
I somehow awoke to this nightmare:
A kingdom of sorrow
Where fear has become the patriarch.
Enslaved by my base desires,
Steel bars of ignorance brandish the cells
Of my caged and captive potential.
Every atom of my composure
Becomes no more than a cruel trick of light,
A practiced sleight of hand...
A ruse that has become impenetrable,
Seamless and familiar;
Touching the darkest parts of the heart,
Caressing the ill begotten frills
Of our utterly underdeveloped souls.
Yet, still,
we endure.
The wheel turns,
The fire burns,
The spirit yearns,
The ashes gather
And fill the urns...
And Still,
We Endure.
Accepting
what we cannot
change
but giving space
to
ourselves
boundaries
from
what hurts us
what is beyond
our endurance
to bear
Believe me, you deserved someone better
You are reborn from fire, from the light,
And light you become.
The darkness is repelled by your presence;
You have broken free of your deficiencies.
By conquering your demons,
You have proved yourself above the dark.
The blackness is trapped beneath your feet,
It can never control you again...
Oh give thanks
unto the Lord
for He is good
and His mercies,
Oh yes
His mercies,
they never fail us
never.
His mercies
they
endure
forever
and ever
and
ever more.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran
Let us write something now
About the Kings before which we bow
Of the things we say as we vow
In those large mansions of lights
As we sell off our life rights
In submission to freedom of pain
That mounts day after day; again and again.
Let us speak out our mind
These always shall remind
Us of,
The insults we tolerated
When,with assaulters we cooperated
Covering up for their wrong
That our stay in their custody we would prolong.
Talk of how we left our jobs to be wives
Yet we struggled to escape from knives
Sat on the cold floor, trying to wipe away our tears
While the nourishment of our weakness thrived into our fears
We gave birth to children that became baits
That kept us wrapped round our husband's fingers.
Even so,we never got our respect
We waited for a new beginning while they slept
We tried to talk to them and were trashed
And the remains of our love were splashed
Like the thin soils onto which rainwater drips
Like the pain a hurt leg bears as it leaps
Through the thorns and pins
With the pain cutting deep through our skins.
The church rules we complied with
We walked the walks of old Smith
By bending low to culture
To keep our dreams from the cruel rapture
When the chiefs would disregard us
And send us off the village with just one ass
To a land they named elsewhere,
Where our power would be claimed by Blaire
Till we ceased to exist in actual sense
Like you even ever did.
Through writing it here on paper,
We are not condemning them
But bringing to their understanding how it hurts
To be yelled at, ignored,battered;
And enslaved or hurt in summary.
How unfair it is to live in a monopoly
With only our men making rules for us to follow
And calling us wicked and aduleters when we say anything.
We've been silent from the day of our vows
Because not even our inlaws or parents believed us.
That's why we have to pen it here
That our darling sunshines can read it
As they grow and look towards our seats
Which are ablaze and not pleasant to take rest on.
To our dear men,
We want you to change and
Handle us like your promises said
Ts all we ask of you
For the tears are drying us up
And our words no longer count
Because you have deprived us of our courage.