Long Fend off Poems
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One does not have to die to be a hero,
Though many heroes paid the ultimate price,
That is but one among many scenarios,
Of steel, faith, valor and noble sacrifice.
Heroes dwell in neighborhoods across the land,
Who work on weekdays in many vocations,
And joyfully anticipate weekend plans,
For worship, rest, travel and recreation.
Heroes show great courage in the face of wrong,
Run-of-the-mill actors in life’s performance,
They stand brave, noble, and are morally strong,
Admired for their ideals and endurance.
They labor to provide for their families,
Thousands conquer through faith and inspiration,
Most shrink from being a liability,
Countless folk persevere by strong volition.
Gallant heroes are born each eventful day,
Standing up against all wrong and injustice,
Doing justice with lawful and upright ways,
Fighting against bigotry and prejudice.
They are the paladins of humanity,
Defending the weak; practicing charity,
They are champions and shields of liberty,
The daring offspring of justice and mercy.
Heroes seek out and expose vile behaviors,
Fend off the fiery darts of iniquity,
Legends to the broken and disfavored,
Icons among those living in poverty.
Heroes shun all forms of discrimination,
Have empathy for those under oppression,
Accept their divine call of obligation,
Stating war against tyranny’s repression.
Who is the brave and distinctive hero?
Everyday folk who value what is holy,
Who chose to live and standup against the foe,
And all that devalues personality.
One does not have to die to be a hero,
Although it may require that ultimate price.
People in midst of victories or sorrows,
Are heroes by living true and honest lives.
Some folks just struggle in vain,
stress their nerve and wrack their brains,
wonder if we’re all insane,
when they see us create again.
They ask of visions deep inside,
a hidden genius in our mind,
what inspiration they can find,
and we just look at them and lie…
Because we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money….
yes all of us must work for money…
It helps to fend off the pain,
we’re all playing the same game.
We don’t speak for generations,
money is motivation,
like you we hate starvation,
needing cash spurs creation.
I’ve run into artist types,
most of the could use a bite,
high ideals won’t pay for lights…
or fancy mansions, big and bright.
Oh yes, we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money….
sometimes my song bring in the money…
only card I have to play,
so I guess I’ll make it pay..
I’ve got bills and kids to feed,
wife and family with real needs,
and I ask you honestly
what options are left for me?
No doctor, can’t engineer,
most folks think me weird,
social games just bring me fear,
that’s why I ‘sell out’ every year.
You see we do it for the money…
lots and lots of money…
they say it’s not ‘art’ if there’s money…
I hear that nonsense every day,
it’s such a stupid thing to say.
Tim had all the necessary ingredients right next to his ancient burner
Shark teeth dangling from a sunken necklace at the cutting edge but
The amulet had turned into chains and shackles grinding the chef’s mind
A lost recipe for happiness but and he had no appetite for nourishment
Attrition boiled over when nutrition resembled a poisonous chalice
Too tired to take stock he dwelled on his primordial soup turning back
Primitive and involuntary he turned on the gas and smelled his demise
Rotten onions had depleted his tears thinly sliced and disguised
Fetid leeks leaked misery a trickle or two at full stagnant pace
Spoilt thyme oozed malodorous rosaries into beads of corrosion
Squashed tomatoes splashed foul decomposition into his eyes
Fennel funneled his vision into a bubbling hell of indigestion
Olive oil splashed straight into his heart with no glimmer of peace
Cantankerous garlic would not fend off his festering demons
While a bay leaf could not keep mortally morose sadness at bay
Great white oblivion but slowly Tim made friends with predation
Resolved he was allergic to fishy feelings and toxic distaste
He did not remember at first how to simmer emotions and passion
But onions started to sprinkle tears of joy and the shark pointed the way
Soon leeks from a Welsh legend delineated friend from mal-aligned foes
Thyme soothed his splattering cough and he found his true inner voice
Tomatoes seeded bright red orange chakras from base to the top while
Fennel fought of bloating depression and conquered agony’s cramps
Previously oblivious oils from virginal growth re-birthed him into life
He licked his wounds and wild garlic from an ocean of wonderment
And chose the berries from a long forgotten and noble laurel tree
Tim had barked up the wrong perspective and had muted the roar
Eventually he conjoined ingredients recipe and fortunate blessings
Left the sharks out of the chowder and slurped smooth soup into his shell
IN Memory Of Roger Dale Eubanks
Roger
We both know the journey never ends
We spend most of our lives
Trying to fend off anyone who is pretend
Defending our friendship untill the end
You have paved your way my good friend
I know it's never goodbye as you ascend
You put your boots into the wind
I hope your new life with God can start begin
Since you no longer have to sit and spin
I wish you well my never forgotten friend
I'm glad nothing about you was pretend
Your journey may take you away
So I will pray for God
To escort you all the way
Roger
We stayed friends until the end
We understood together we were the right blend
Living our friendship without having to mend
You were way old school
Could often find you playing like nobodies fool
Your friendship was something very cool
Always making us smile
Getting baked going the extra mile
Our good friend until the end
May God go with you into the wind
So you might know we all win
When our life on earth comes to an end
Looking down on us my good friend
With a mighty big grin
As you take it all in
No more pain or frustration
Your in a much better location
Nothing pretend about God who will mend
Your broken limbs when we ascend
ROGER
Our dear friend until the end
You know now that it's not pretend
Rather a brand new life free of sin
Where we can begin to take it all in
No more sickness or broken limbs
Hala -luya you can walk again
Your friends and family have to reason
You will be missed all season
We all love you and will see you again
When we are reunited up around the bend
When it's our turn to ascend
Goodbye, for now, my good friend
You will be missed but never forgotten
My good friend until the end
We both come out of it with a big win
Knowing our friendship I will always defend
We must all keep our Faith and not hesitate
Life in heaven with God will be so great
So don't make him Wait for your next date
My Good Friends nothing has to end
Especially not good friends until the end
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROGER
WE LOVE AND MISS YOU VERY Much
In the morning I heard howling in the air,
The most rooted oak bows in awe and swear,
In the prior gleam of sunset, were greeted with pride,
In perilous fights, our flags and stars never hide.
What induces a nation's pillars strong?
How is it gifted to fend off such a throng?
Never neglect those who fought and died,
Or those we never recalled whom some cried.
Grieving older men salute the flag,
Ladies around tombs shout in anguish and pride,
Kids hoist bitty banners and are dressed in drag,
When the honor-bound penance is tied.
Let's commemorate our unknown troops,
Whose loyalty to our nation doesn't loop,
Let's respect their zeal; they crave to do right,
Defend America, so we may rest easier at night.
Veritably, I assumed a secure homecoming,
From the fighting zones of our soldiers,
I pray for the return of each hero by drumming,
Our young men's war is on our shoulders.
Let's respect our heroes, who suffer hardship,
Their rigor we can't fathom, that's a sharp tip,
Defending what it proves to be an American,
Depict the colors aiming to induce a comparison.
Who oversees our freedom and chance?
Armed boots showed our assertiveness,
Not our blood kin, but a lady's tendance
Family pain, heart, soul, and brain toughness.
O, courageous fighters, hunt out the blight,
Of furious rebels, we'll sing the eulogy of plight,
Your green Berets are prized with high esteem,
Impede your goals as you shout and scream.
Written: July 23, 2022
To Honor My Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
When the present is a hollow shadow of the future past
And the wild reaper casts his spell on stagnant aspirations
The harvest flooded in crushing tears at midwinter pain
He decides to live the courageous fantasy of ancient moons
Dries off a skin full of resentment from stunted propagation
Slices vividly through anger hurt and fear with lunar sickles
Rises above beholding constellations of apprehending dread
Living the dream and loving the seasons is full of danger
As uncertain promises loom and the eclipse seems eternal
He lights a blazing fire to fend off subconscious hesitation
And remembers that he’s been there before so many times
When mourning falls again and hopeful rays lighten the sky
Hopeful desire tentatively touches an unextinguished longing
For the gift of presence peace and kindness onto his burning mind
His soulmate bandages his wounded soul and kisses him gently
Massages sores and abrasive thoughts until they walk the path
Out into what lies ahead when sun and clouds merge into one
22nd October 2019
This skinny, unkept guy,
a shadow in the light,
victim of negligence,
lost in the night;
a life missing guidance,
a path gone awry,
destitute and alone
bound to silently cry.
Good people of New York,
stop and hear my plea:
take me way from this slum,
I'd run free, I'm ready
to leave the dump,
pop the champagne cork,
let me find my way back,
where the dreams can walk!
Daily roaming the subway,
where the noise never ends,
kicking off crawling rats,
no place for friends;
sleeping on cold benches,
wrapped in despair,
learned to fend off punches,
too tired to care!
Good people of New York,
stop and hear my plea,
take me far away from this slum
I'd be free; I'm ready
to leave this dump,
pop the champagne cork:
let me find my way back,
where the dreams can walk!
Daily roaming the subways,
where the noise never ends,
kicking off crawling rats,
no place for friends,
sleeping on cold benches,
wrapped in despair,
learned to fend off punches,
too tired to care.
Good people of New York,
stop and hear my plea,
take me far away
from this slum;
I'd be free, I'm ready
to leave the dump,
pop the champagne cork:
let me find my way back:
where dreams can walk!
Did I choose the low road
begging for mercy?
Was this life meant
for someone who was wealthy,
once had a home,
door wide open to light?
Now, it's just memories fading,
ghosts of the night!
Who would have thought,
this good-looking dude
with dreams and ambition
with such groove,
wound up in streets
that are heartlessly rude:
where smiles are scarce
and kindness is rude?
Good people of New York,
stop and hear my plea,
take me far away
from this slum;
I'd be free, I'm ready
to leave this dump,
pop my champagne cork:
let me find my way back,
where dreams can walk!
I wore fine clothes, a necklet
with a red horn,
ate the best food,
all my futures adorned,
but down the road,
I made the wrong turn,
lost all the gold:
cocaine kept each pain
at bay; now, I seek redemption:
a chance to reclaim
hope to raise
from the ashes
and dance in the flame!
If we truly as a people who want to make this country…
this world great…
Here’s one man’s rationale…for choosing love instead of hate:
Our lives are filled with lies that challenge our love
and urge us to hate a little every day.
It is difficult in the darkness of lies and hate…to allow love to light our way.
But here is a reality…one that will never be a lie…
none of us will life forever…one day we are all going to die.
This simple truth about our future, our destiny…our inevitable fate…
is the reason we should choose to walk in love
and do our best to fend off hate.
If we try to choose love every minute we’re alive…
if our love out in this world we have sent
then…when it comes our time to die we’ll know
our time has been well spent.
But every minute we choose to hate
comes at much too high a cost…
because…when it comes our time to die we’ll realize
all the time…and all the love…that we have lost.
How sad it would be…if when we meet our final destiny…
our inevitable fate
we become aware of all the love in our life
that we replaced with hate.
Which is why we need to think in love every moment
every step on our daily climb…
so that we will never run out of love in life…
we will only run our of time.
My old Gran, met an ice cream man
Who welcomed her into the clan
Of superhero ice cream men
Who fend off villains now and then
He gave her top crime fighting tips
And lots of special chocolate chips
They’ll pump your muscles, fix your hips
If two or three should pass your lips
We’ve also got a gadget man
Looking at your ice cream van
He’ll supercharge the things he can
And then we’ll call you Turbo Gran
*
One week later, first time out
Turbo went out on the scout
When two muggers robbed a man
Turbo Gran pulled up the van
She grabbed some chocolate chips to eat
These would make her hard to beat
She hurled some ice cream down the street
And underneath the mugger’s feet
Their every step did slip and slide
They reached a barn and hid inside
The barn was stacked up high with logs
But P.C. Hoggs had brought the dogs
‘Hey, Turbo Gran, you gotta laugh,
those muggers left an ice cream path.’
The dogs sniffed where ice cream was slicked
And pretty soon those thieves were licked
So now they call her Turbo Gran
It’s written on her ice cream van
With ‘Speedy’ written on each door
Just listen to it’s engine roar
So watch her go, my crazy gran
My grandma with a souped up van
To call her ‘Turbo’, please feel free
But she’s still ‘Ice Cream Gran’ to me
'
where, in the shadow of a winter moon
beyond eternal skylines collecting stars,
does affection unfold in the sheets
of a nighttime whispering on the breeze
desperate wishes cast as stones on a pond,
smooth surfaces now laced with ripples,
spherical patterns meandering towards
a slumbering shoreline, drifting inward
a silhouette of love, an angelic form peers,
soft mahogany eyes reflecting yesterdays worries,
offering visions of a tomorrow woven between
today's dreams and desires, waits silently
thoughts echo through the dense forest,
evergreens listen as footsteps forage for a path,
a lone figure in the dark, beneath a braided canopy,
a mosaic of memories luring instincts and needs
winding a way through bramble and thistle,
scars fend off thorns, flesh withers in fear lost
within the mist of past encounters, pained
reminders though welcomed just the same
when in a clearing he pauses amidst swaying reeds,
perusing a distant horizon, witnessing the final ripple
slowly making it's way to the place she stood, now
vacant as a faint sliver of morning appears
falling to his knees
he pleads for the return of the winter moon,
the return of its shadow,
the return of...