Long Four hundred Poems
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Here, this day, on this inglorious
Field
Thy vain struggles will count no
Valour.
All hope now abandoned,
Imminent defeat unconcealed;
Erstwhile countenance display
Such waxen, languid pallor.
Surround by your dwindling
Forces
Ye will but sadly find...
That the stout keep of your
Valiant fortress is all but breached,
Once strong foundations failing -
Wherest badly undermined!
For a rigorous examination beckons
ye;
Stood before impassioned jurors
Chosen from the feared and all
Powerful families of the ignoble
Medici.
Black curtains drawn back from
Deep reveals
That look out over the enlightened
Years...
Where conceals...
Hidden between leafs of peremptory
Decree:-
A blight spread upon these lands,
Inflicted from Romes insidious
Plans -
That cause stain upon the
Renaissance of a golden century!
When clapping thunder breaks and
Brazen lightening clashes
Still I would know ye again:
A pounding, frenzied reflex devoid
Of all Godly purpose -
Detached from any amount of
Blame!
For I have sought ye out, O lowly
Meretrix;
Heaping upon you with bondage
Enforced through servitude and
Shame;
And I, O lowly Meretrix,
I...hereby command thy name.
A fastidious Advocate of intellectual
Character
Shallst I elect,
He who be a practitioner of
Theological proposal unrefrained,
To represent you -
Raised from the rank files of the
Dead and slain!
A public gallery, wherest seated,
Ghostly phantasms
That I purposefully select;
And for a judge - A deathly one:
Ill measured, worshipfully detached,
Beneath it all,
And hopelessly arcane.
This "Innocent" fool, dressed in
Guise of highest ecclesiastical
Enforcer,
Perpetuated a medieval Inquisition,
Both protracted and prolonged,
That openly boasted and rejoiced
In its zealous slaughter!
Thereby spawned a terrible edict -
"Ad Extirpanda":-
Cannon law that advocates the
Use of "Legitimate torture"!
Know thee also, Meretrix, the Pius
Pontiff,
Heaven sent,
Who in his greater wisdom
Convened over
The council of Trent:
Four hundred years spanning
Across a Reformations fears;
Reaffirmed when Pope John,
In reflective reiteration,
Was heard to chillingly hiss:
"What was...Still is"!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Wyatt
by Edmund Siejka
We were in London
Dining in a four-hundred-year-old pub
Dark wood paneling
Beams carved from tree trunks
History and privilege
In medieval England
For us it was a family vacation
And everyone came.
My grandson Wyatt sat next to me
And I turned my attention to him
Letting the other adults talk
Among themselves.
Eyeing the beer in front of me
He asked
Grandpa can I have a sip?
Looking at this round-faced cherub
Sitting next to me
I couldn’t refuse
After all it was oatmeal beer
Easy on the stomach
And fairly bland
Taking a small sip
He simply said
It’s OK Gramps.
His mother saw everything
Reaching over
She tapped me on the shoulder
You shouldn’t be giving him beer
Turning to her son
And you Wyatt, you can’t do everything Grandpa does.
And then the food came
Sausage and Mash
Meat Pie with Mashed Potatoes
Fish and Chips
And dessert, Lemon Tart Pudding.
While we ate
I asked Wyatt
How were things in school?
Fine Gramps. And I have lots of friends.
Leaning towards me
He whispered
And you’re on my list.
List, I asked?
Yeah, a list of people I can always talk to
And who are my best pals
I’m honored Wyatt
I really am I said.
I didn’t say much after that
Afterwards when we got back to the hotel
My wife went to bed
And I stayed up for awhile
Thinking about this and thinking about that
But I couldn’t hold back the pride
When my ten-year-old grandson told me
I was on his list.
She had no idea what a fantastic legacy of enlightenment she left
She was assertive woman who took no guff from any mortals.
Her self-confidence was well known; she was feared by men.
She gladly overthrew her husband and her cousin to get power
Perhaps she sensed she would only live to the age of sixty-seven.
But she decided she had a lot of work to do. She hired artists and poets.
Surrounded herself with sculptors, dancers, singers and, orators.
She uplifted women in a variety of ways, bringing them out of their darkness.
She created Smolny Institute, the first college for women in Europe.
She wanted the others to get ahead like she had when she became Empress.
Catherine earned her name; she surrounded herself with free thinkers.
Her coup d’état paid off; Russia became alive with culture and new ideas.
Catherine was a nurturer, a mother, soon known as Catherine the Great.
Almost four hundred years ago, and yet we recognize her term as golden.
Still to this day, we call her reign “the Golden age of Russia”.
A versatile, liberal minded woman who traded her wifehood for power.
I want to be with you all of the time.
I'll rub and caress you to keep that shine.
When I feel the aura of your bright glow,
Helios you're for me, I 'm certain, I know.
All day I dream to come home to you each night
to feel supple leather wings hold me tight.
Although you are mine, I bought you out right,
I am only your steward to all in sight
Oh how I love your strength and raw power,
your color and sheen a brilliant golden shower.
The curve of your hood and slant of your hatch,
oh, they satiate an itch that no other can scratch.
Pressing the pedal I free four hundred horses.
I am thrown back and cradle by strong G-forces.
I firm my grip on your black wheel and shifter.
I ready for your speed you bad ass ripper.
Through valleys low and canyons deep
I savor each thrust, each turn, oh the benefits I reap.
I never want to go home just want to be free,
owning the roads of this nation, Helios and me.
He was first known as Jean-Philippe Smet in Paris, France,
and became very popular when given the chance.
This famous performing French artist’s birthday would be
on the date of 15 June, in 1943.
Many would consider him the French Elvis Presley.
Under his new pseudonym of Johnny Hallyday,
he achieved fame as the top French singer of his day.
A tireless performer that many fans extol,
Johnny would become number one with French rock n’ roll.
His popularity would indeed go very far.
Not only a singer, he was a top movie star.
With eighteen platinum albums and four hundred tours,
this is a star all the French-speaking public adores.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A black bat came knocking at my door,
I once was scared, but I scream no more.
I'm in danger If I dine with him tonight,
He will bring me dinner beneath the moonlight.
A shovel for digging, a rose with a thorn,
A prick to my neck with blood it's adorned.
Musty smells from dirt beneath my feet,
The moon lights the trail so that I can see.
No one understands just how I can adore,
A man whose been dead four hundred years or more.
My thirst stirs up the strongest desires,
For a bloody feast with a vampire.
Only one counts,
Vlad/Dracula is his name.
One bite from him,
You would feel the same.
I'm waking up rubbing my winking eyes
so sensitive to the burst of the first sunrays;
I open wide the off-whilte Venetian blinds of older days,
to get a better view of a sun never hiding its surprises.
I go straight to the kitchen tripping on the way,
I'll brew a fresh pot of Maxwell coffee: sweet and strong;
just four cups a day: its a good way to rewind and sing
that folk song that caught my attention yesterday.
I quickly jump into the shower with light blue curtains
displaying red canyons in the background as eagles fly
over breathtaking praires, but who can hear this voice...
if not the caged parrot that repeats it with a sorrowful cry?
I will set him free today and let him choose his own destiny,
parrots or any other bird weren't meant to be locked in cages;
yes, they are similar to us seeking freedom and loving harmony,
so why should we deny them happiness causing them many pains?
Off to work, looking my best: with gray suit which costed four hundred bucks,
and a silver tie to match my black shoes...well-trimmed fingernails is a must;
A splash of Obsession to turn on single, attractive girls at Starbucks.
I drive off in my shiny green Honda, foreseeing a great day until dusk.
I am Li from the East
Not the the martial artist
I am half-Asian
Raised in Appalachian
I love to cook
Selling in any nook
I push and pull a cart
Honest from the bottom of my heart
I cook street food
Spook and hook so good
I fry squid balls, chicken and krill
Or saute soft meat and grill
I play as I cook
And can tell stories out of the book
Just watch me and listen after I shook
I can also say how you look.
Have you heard the story
Of the dressed chicken in Hickory?...
A brood of chicken, a century ago
Arrived on the shore after crossing the briny sea of Santiago
It's a place in Chile
A land of beauty and wonders of simile
Around four hundred sixty-nine birds gathered
Different ones, condor-fathered
Big and small sizes like baguettes
Greeted the flock of chicken as nuggets
Chickens as birds with colored feathers
Envied for their tiny feathers
One chicken was asked,
"Why are you dressed when basked?"
"Your question is not funny...
It is an irony!"
The chicken said with a broken heart
Inside its chest is a burning heart
Adding, "Dressed is when I get decapitated
Breathless and emaciated."
"Oh, that's hideous!"
Said the greeter so conscious.
"What else do you want to know?..."
Asked the chicken who was mocked with blow.
"Nothing more," said the greeter
"Sorry for being a tweeter!"
Now you know the story
Of the dressed chicken in Hickory!
Dressed chicken from anywhere
From Santiago to everywhere.
Sleep our glorious ancestors, sleep!
Do not be disturbed.
We,
your descendants would never betray
The blood you have shed to liberate
Our land.
The Land of:
Homer and Hesiod
Aeschylus and Euripides
Socrates and Plato
Hypocrates and Alexander
For
We would never let another enemy,
No matter how powerful,
To invade our holy motherland-
The birthplace:
Of Philosophy
Of Democracy,
Of Tragedy, and
Of the Olympic Games.
Sleep you, immortal heroes of freedom, sleep!
Let your blessed souls roam onto the Elysian fields, and
Let yourselves enjoy the company of our
Forbears:
Of Hercules,
Of Achilles
Of Odysseus, and
Of Agamemnon
For
We stay vigilant guards instead of you
Ready to safeguard the values and ideals
For which you have fallen.
Ready to follow your footsteps, and
Ready to die for our land: Greece
Which
You have liberated after four hundred years of
Insufferable and tyrannical occupation.*
©Demetrios Trifiatis
25 March 2021
*The Ottomans captured Constantinople (Istanbul), which was
the capital of the Byzantine empire for eleven centuries, on the
29th of May 1453. Greece remained enslaved till the 25th of
March 1821, when we Greeks revolted against the oppressors' tyranny and after a long war, we managed to liberate ourselves!
Long live Freedom. Long Live Greece!
Minnis Downhome Pharmacy has reopened its doors.
They're not afraid because of the tragedy that happened before.
When those four innocent people were shot, it was a damn shame.
I'm glad they've reopened but without Stephen as the pharmacist, it won't be the same.
Stephen's widow has reopened the pharmacy to continue her husband's dream and I don't blame her.
The deranged maniac who shot Stephen and the others will most likely get the gas chamber.
Minnis charged my mom less than forty dollars for her Risperdal.
Walgreens asked four hundred for the same medicine and Mom was appalled.
Minnis cares more about people than profit, that's why some of their meds are cheaper.
People are getting their meds there again because that pharmacy is a keeper.
(Dedicated to Stephen Lovell, Richard Sommerville, Alexia Wilson and Janet Clift who were shot on May 23, 2013.)