Long Furtively Poems
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Lakes and beaches are wiped clean like a whiteboard,
each day by waves, tide, wind.
Then marks of ripples and tracks provide transient tell-tales
of what has gone on since, of what is yet to come.
What caused those ripples? Where did they come from?
What caused those tracks marking crisscross paths on the sand?
From whence did they come? To where are these interlopers going?
The agents and causes know nothing of these things.
They do not care.
They can't know they are being tracked.
They do not wipe their foot or finger prints clean.
They wander furtively wary,
scarily and carefully looking about, but unaware.
They dare not look back,
lest they be cast into salt or stone,
or sent back to hell,
for defacing such clean pristine spaces with
their street-art hieroglyph graffiti.
A hushed stillness lies over the lake at dawn
A single plop or tremble stirs a ripple the mirrored plane.
Soft as a whispered caress on a sleeping cheek,
Perhaps the kiss of wind, barely daring to touch.
Perhaps it's the kiss of fish rising to take a fly.
Perhaps an insect flitting, skittling onto the surface
Or a bird dipping to drink from beak.
The ripple propagates outwards in concentric rings,
echoing and resonating on its journey,
long after the cause has passed and gone.
Where are these ripples of unknown causes going and why,
The sources are untraceable via back-tracking,
remaining hidden and mysterious,
long since gone.
Do these ripples want to cuddle a distant shore,
to caress a foot paddling in the shallows,
to rock a boat with sleepers to sleep,
or to kiss the pebbles puckered up to kiss in rows?
Or to simply go and then fade gently and dissolve from view,
happy in their journey getting there.
In time the wind and water gathers breath,
to blur the lines, to wipe the scroll and slate clean,
To blow the sand grains around to cover the tracks.
The tide comes in, obliterating the imprints.
The wind builds waves to crush the ripples in chaos.
The defaced becomes a pure clean mirror surface unmarked again,
With no trace of regret, or memory to replay.
The defacers, shakers and movers,
long forgotten, forlorn and forgiven,
have faded away, to dreams and memories,
forgotten, hidden, wiped away, until awaken.
[3RD CONTINUATION]
Many fell in my charm, because in a few days,
Hundreds of people took me in their arms with many a happy face.
Nurses, doctors, clergymen, many men and women,
Hugged and cradled me as if I was for all men.
Now I shall speak of my days in the world;
Going chronologically so that all everything is called
To mind and seen as I see them myself.
If the heavenly realm and humanity is ready, then enjoy yourselves:
FIRST DAY:
The bells were tolling as I came in to the earth,
Ending at the twelfth stroke as i had said,
And heaved twelve times as I was cleaned by the doctor
On call to my home, who scrutinized my face with rigor:
T'was as if he did not believe I was a normal baby
And was just out to clarify his doubt. How searchy!
But..He had the right to believe so
For my arrival on earth was poor.
Normal babies cry to announce their arrival
On earth per se to join in human slavery as constitutional:
I merely kicked and furtively gazed through ajar eyes
At all who appeared, awaiting my cries.
Hundreds of people were soon in my home
TO welcome me because i had come
Strong and healthy, Strong and healthy;
At the time when the family was wealthy.
My earthly mother had been rushed to the hospital
Because of some impervious pains which grew so tall.
Soon there I followed to be lactated
Despite her failing health.
My earthly father was the Sheik of the Moslem Community
In the town. It was indeed a large periphery,
Out-growing those of other religions.
Sheik Modigbo was his name from tradition.
As the day grew old many people arrived
To behold the baby and touch it because much could be derived
From the first child and son of the Sheik of the Land.
Let them come and enjoy my great tan.
I was lactated and left to sleep in peace,
While earthly mum was cared for by a Miss;
A beautiful doctor who had caressed my face,
Setting everything burning in place.
My eyes were close as always and body still-
With the impression that I was asleep on the hill
Of peace and happiness.
How feignacious! What a distress!
At midnight I was asleep-
Gone to my real world so deep,
In the fabrics of the universe
Where stood the famed Mount Everest.
[TO CONTINUE..]
Animal of the Night
The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!
Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!
Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!
Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!
As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!
In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!
Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!
You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!
Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!
Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!
Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!
As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!
In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!
Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!
You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
BAZAAR
Can you call it a bazaar
Where only one vendor
Her face strained
'Looks' pale, apprehensive
As if caught in a snakes' chamber
Yet searching for a potential customer
Desperate to sell products unheard of
Of human species, bizarre more bizarre
The seller in her early thirties
Skinny as an empty nylon bag
Frail as a TB patient
Seemingly double her age and malnourished
Sat at the small town's big square
Shrilling in the loudest of her voice
'On sale' 'on sale'
One is my son another daughter
The female child is only three sirs
Please don't turn your faces I request
Don't think that she's worth not sale
Within two years she can show her conquest
I guarantee at five
She can lay your table
At seven wash dishes
Two years later can take your kids to school
Then with a jolt in her throat
In one hand raising the three years' face
The other pointed towards the sky
The seller laboured to utter some words
I swear you can run a brothel
Oh! profit-loss Madams and Sirs
With lot much profit and market demand
Can't you see how glamorous her face!
Two drops of tear evaporated
In the scorching and cruel sun
Just after they inadvertently fell
In spite of emotion being tried to shun
Like her alcoholic and savage husband
Her hopes were torn into pieces of waste
Dreams shattered trusts broken
Rifts not repairable by a paste
It made the seller again cautious
She thought the tear might act as mace
Thinking to sell and engaging her saree's pallu
Furtively wiped the wet eyes and face
What it takes for a living
Mobile phones internet
Or just face book likes
Surely not for me
Because I don't have food, clothes
And a house as basic needs
Take this boy
I don't expect from you
Any exemplary parenthood
By your kindness sirs
At least we can get some food
We may not call this square a bazaar
As a hawker, there's only a single seller
But what if we combine altogether
The squares of poverty, immiseration
Deprivation destitution and major calamities
The brunt who bear.
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell
The front bar of the Criterion is filling up,
It’s after five and the patrons are filing in.
Placed orders echoing off the old timbers
Vying to be heard and adding to the din.
The Grand Old Lady proudly plays host
As she looks out over the muddy Fitzroy.
Thirsty travellers mingle with the regulars,
Escaping the heat with a time worn ploy.
The nubile young bar staff are soon kept busy
As the chaos of orders are shouted out.
Pots and schooners, Bundy Rum and XXXX,
Of their burning thirst there can be no doubt.
The old burnished timber balustrade
though hints at an earlier time of splendor.
An era lost in a more genteel age,
When the old lady was of years more tender.
There’s a Dining Room and spacious Saloon,
Public Bar and upstairs rooms in which to stay.
All retaining their charm of yesteryear,
You can imagine just what they would say.
They’d tell tales of the customers of old,
Of the dusty drovers long on the track.
To the bar to slake a hard earned thirst
Before again mounting up to “get on back”.
Of the bullockies breasting up to the bar
Still cursing that cranky old lead beast.
In language blue they summons the barmaid
And soon settle in for a liquid feast.
Floorboards ringing to the thud of hob nailed boots
As the thirsty stockmen venture into town.
Today their pockets are full of promise,
Tomorrow hangovers they need to drown.
They’d recall long ago warm summer nights
With the polished chandeliers shining bright.
When the silver cutlery was out on display,
And well set tables made for a grand sight.
When gentlemen and ladies on the town
Took pride in appearance to look the part.
When crinoline, whale bone, lace and shift,
Were well placed to land a gentleman’s heart.
And assignations conducted furtively
In consummation of illicit affairs.
All in the rooms overlooking the city,
at the top of those carpeted old stairs.
I’m sure that today’s equivalent games
Are still seen daily by those left in charge.
The same scenes repeated by a new crowd,
The same desires on their faces writ large.
Notus comes creeping furtively from the south
hot and bothered from the blazing summer sun.
The wind of change...concealed it launches sudden storms
as clouds pile up across the sky, dark and towering,
lightning flashes, thunder drawls, torrential rain descends;
rivers swell to bursting point; fields are swamped, crops destroyed.
Then once again he sneaks away, planning his next move.
His neighbour, Eurus, wants to show he’s no less able.
Bearing his inverted earthen vase he goes along
clumsy in gait and spilling water on dry soil.
His forays from the east tend to be unlucky.
Autumn fades with a sigh on Aura’s gentle wings
as ice-cold winter rushes in impatiently
from northern frozen lands to take its place
goaded by the domineering force of Boreas
who moves ahead with strong, intense authority,
his violent temper uncontrolled. Despite his age
he pushes his galloping stallion to the limit
riding forth relentlessly, cloak billowing behind,
his white beard curled; shaggy hair spiked and frosted.
Roaring, across the land he speeds with utmost haste,
a sacred conch shell grasped firmly in steely hand;
tremendous power he exerts and blows aloud
while humans cower in dark caverns, shivering.
They know his moods and fear his devastating wrath.
In their minds, princess Oreithyia’s forced abduction,
rape, and carnal satisfaction are still fresh.
They yearn for winter’s bitter ally to move on
so that the gentle Zephyr enters from the west
bringing with him rainbows and showers of spring,
calm serenity, greenery, flowers, shades and hues,
romantic feelings, fiery passion and intense love.
Ultimately, all four have to heed and appease
King Aeolus, firm ruler and keeper of the winds.
----------------------------------
*Aura = breeze goddess
*Oreithyia = mountain Nymph
----------------------------------
18th December 2014
Contest: Gods of Winds
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placed: 2nd
Electric Mosquito Bat
Reached out for my windbreaker jacket, lifted it off its peg…
Slipped my left hand into the left sleeve to be followed by my right…
My mind was ever so clear, my heart ever so light, for tonight I strike back..
Selfconsciously I smirked a grin, for tonight, The Empire Strikes Back…
The other family members, they are all engrossed with the TV in the living room…
Some silly local production drama, lots of overacting and tears aplenty to flood a room…
That was not for me, I have a higher mission to answer for this cannot wait…
Tonight I begin a mission with my newly gifted rechargeable electric mosquito bat….
It has been fully charged, I had timed it to perfection by my alarm clock....
Luke Skywalker, even Hans Solo , eat your hearts out for I have this sword…
It is electric, fully charged, it is lethal upon touch, mosquitoes and flying insects are cinders…
No, I do not have to swat nor strike out, I only need to wave it about to destroy all insects…
Furtively I stole a look into the living room, then turned back and flicked softly a light switch…
The lone bulb flared instantly and bathed the patio outside the kitchen in soft yellowish light…
As I leaned forward to peer through panel window in the back door, mentally I smiled again,
Now out there, in that patio, yours truly and this electric mosquito bat, we‘ll do battle to win..
Left hand grasping my electric mosquito bat, my right hand grasped the kitchen door knob…
There was a soft click as I slowly pulled open the wooden door, the battlefield beyond beckoned…
My heart was light, a silly tuneless humming still on my lips as I eagerly stepped forward…
Flying insects by the hundreds are mine to slay, the thrill and body counts will be my rewards…
Hey, who left the back patio light on?
Grandad, why are you out here? Better get inside before you catch a cold!!
@#$$#@!!
December 11 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on James 1-2
Key Verse– James 1:5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY WISDOM GIVER
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your joyfulness
Thank You for strengthening my faith by Your truth’s steadfastness
Midst weakness in temptation-trying upon Your patient kindness
Now, I can go toward well-doing fullness.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your blessings abundantly
Thank You for guiding my choices rightfully
Midst double-mindedness and unstable ways attacking furtively
Now, I can overcome evil courageously.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your might
Thank You for upholding my trust by Your Word’s insight
Midst error propensity and carnality-flight
Now, I can prevail over fleshly blight.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your compassion
Thank You for teaching my heart by Your instruction
Midst folly, ignorance and deception
Now, I can follow obediently upon Your direction.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your victory
Thank You for saving my soul due to Your Gospel story
Midst sinfulness worthy of hell’s fury…
Now, I can live for Your honour and glory.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your Scriptures
Thank You for enabling my spirit ventures
Midst vanities of grievous tortures
So I can triumph while Your faithfulness nurtures.
Lord God, You are my wisdom Giver along with Your redemption-settlement
Thank You for rejuvenating my revival along peace and contentment
Midst problems attacking commitment
So I can continue in my glad ministry-involvement.
December 11, 2023