Long Gentleman Poems
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The mind is a womb
Copulate it
Let the semen of reason
Part the legs of its cervix
And you will see
When moth struggles before its born
The power of its dreams for flight
Words are eggs, you know
Virginal eggs,
I saw him hatch them into bricks
Of ideas that he could carve
Like an Edna exhibit
All copulation must spontaneous
A true gentleman has that gift
Not to force his feelings
On his betrothed
He was also scholar, you know
A sort of poet
That prefer metaphors to the conflict
Of chisel and wood
He had such a mastery of the rhetoric
I mean he understood them better than us
For he did not only speak like them
But spoke their strategy better than them
I sometimes wondered how he knew himself
Apart.
Its sort of seemed ironic
That he did have the anger that Fanon composed
Unless wit is a subtle part of it
May be environment is such a part of it
The cool, I mean
We say that about Manchesterians
Roxborough,
If it could produce the soldier-scholar
Could not have produced just a little fire
Even for the cremation of his brother, Roy
Perhaps it was the mix blood ...
Busta said that his mother was Taino
I do not understand is who mixed them though
There is an overt statement of force to be made
A rape scrubbed from the memory
For how could one half of hm
Become so invisible ...
The mission I mean.
I must rule
More than wood, and more
Than water
For my destiny
Is more than what men may leech
So I am not exploited
I am killed for this robbery
And here I am left
A dead man on a throne
Here I am
Shrouded with self government
And staring into the empty eyes
Of children
So why do I love him then
Was it alone because my father
Fashioned my world for me
Gave me this icon
For proximity the barbarians
Who snatched my mother
Washing her white linen one day
From the sweet river
Do not take that thought to the bank
Where my children play
This man deserves his accolade
If only for taking blindness from my mind
If only for letting me know
The chain had never rattled their
And even in their own words
I could look at the world
And ask "why not?"
He gave me a ladder to my education
That was some gift,
Quite the best of all I am given
O it so beautiful to copulate the mind
Or hold hands through the annals
And see this Manley,
This little fountain of great ambition
Flowing at my lips.
After finishing a seminar based on demand and supply,
I walked out to the street and hailed a taxi going by,
and as I sat down in the seat, the taxi driver said to me,
‘my, my, your timings perfect, you are just the same as Terry.’
I must admit he had me thinking, so of course I answered ‘Who?’
‘Terry Parker’ said the cabbie; a bloke it’s obvious he knew.
‘Yeah, anything that Terry did, he was right on every score,
he lived with perfect timing and Terry never had one flaw.’
I had never met a bloke like Terry, so I’m wary of the fact,
so I subtly gave me answer in a way most would react,
‘None of us are perfect mate,’ but the cabbie did insist
That Terry, he was faultless, and so few like him exist.
I heard that Terry was an athlete with the most amazing skills,
His golfing matched the pros, and his tennis playing simply thrills,
he could sing like Johnny Cash; and even better so I’m told,
he danced like Fred Astaire; his piano playing…simply gold.
I could only think he must be special, this Terry Parker bloke,
and the cabbie uttered ‘hang on,’ and once again he spoke,
‘there’s more to Terry yet, you see his memory never failed,
he remembered every birthday, and every one detailed.
‘He was a connoisseur on beer, and knew everything ‘bout wine,
He knew how to serve the finest foods; all simply pure divine.
And if anything needs fixing, then Terry was your shining light,
he was streets ahead of me, ‘cause I can’t do nothing right.
‘He could always read the traffic, and you’d never find him stuck,
not like me when I am driving, for I had none of Terry’s luck,
and I ought to mention women, and how he made them feel so good,
he was the ideal gentleman; he treated women how I should.
‘Terry would never answer back, even if the woman’s wrong,
he was a charming butler, and his charisma it was strong,
he kept his house immaculate, as no other person can…
no one could measure up; Terry Parker was the perfect man.’
When I reached my destination but before I stepped outside,
I paid the driver what was due, and then I thanked him for the ride,
but I thought it best I mention, at more or less a parting whim,
‘this Terry Parker is remarkable, how did you get to meet him?’
The driver took my money, and then he muttered deep and slow,
‘Actually I never met him, but I’m married to his widow.’
Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!
And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.
You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!
Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!
You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!
I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.
Yet I had left.
Why...?
One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.
Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.
Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.
The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.
You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.
I dreamed a dream of you.
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
It all began as my wife and I were attending a
state fair. My wife had joined with a friend,
and the two of them sought their interest and
fantasies. I simply wandered about from one booth
to another until I came upon a gentleman painting
on a canvas. It caught my interest when he sighted
and made eye contact with me about 8 feet away.
Suddenly, I was taken aback as it would appear that
He began painting a picture of me. From a blank canvas,
he proceeded to paint at a pace I had never seen and began
with a FOREHEAD covered with aging lines and sweat.
The sheer sight of that forehead brought drops of
sweat to my forehead.
There seems to have been a prophetic link between
the painter, the canvas, and myself, uniting us like
the confluence of rivers.
Little did I expect that he would be painting a picture
of me. As he proceeded with great brevity and skill,
every aspect of the painting created a like-effect
on myself. As he continued, with watery EYES, he said
such eyes portrayed my own, filled with cares and burdens
of hurting people.
The EARS he painted were larger than normal and embraced
with signs seen only by those needing to speak in confidence
to a trusted one. The tired, weary, and lonely souls knew
that the ears were special and designed to listen to their
cries of neglect and pain; to their disappointment, mistakes,
and misfortunes.
As the painter began with a normal-looking NOSE, he assured me
that the nose was lightyears from normality because it was equipped,
not to pass judgment on the sins of mankind, but to filter what came
through it. And like a tree taking in carbon dioxide and giving out oxygen, such was the nose of my own that he painted.
Lastly, the talented and prophetic painter paused and stared at me
just before starting on the MOUTH. There were no critical words of
caution from him or the mouth he painted. Notwithstanding, unspoken
words flowed into my heart and soul, igniting a change in the way and
tone of my speech. I was therefore informed that my lips of dust must henceforth release more words of divine love.
Not all of our lives are like a box of chocolate, never knowing what we
are going to get. Sometimes, God unveils the essence of our lives in mysterious ways. In my case, it is a 'never-ending story'. But it started
with a blank canvas.
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L H ANDRESS-ZEISS
Are-hearts-like....................RAINBOWS-'n-POTS-a-GOLD?
When..............SUMMER-FELL..................my-heart-DIED!
'Cuz-if-you..........................DIDN'T-KNOW......'He'-LIED!
And-when........SUMMER-FELL..........a-reward/WAS-SOLD!
And-what-SHE...........DIDN'T-KNOW...........YOU-WERE
THAT-SILVER/LINING...................at-the-end/of-the
LONGEST-STORM...........and-through..........ENDLESS-NIGHTS
My-heart...................DIED.........................'Cuz-'He'/LIED!
If.....................VALHALLA-ever-did/exist.........IT-WASN'T
FOR/ME!
HER-SHIP/sailed..............and-mine/didn't..........did-'He'
Care..................That-Somewhere-My-Heart....... BLED?
If-Beauty..................COUNTS...............Then.....DOESN'T
MY-HEART/BLEED..................Because-I'm/BEAUTIFUL
TOO!
If-raptures.............and-blue-currents........and-swirls
Of---------HOPELESS/DREAMS....................COUNT
DON'T-I/COUNT-TOO..................my-heart-was
Stripped........and-I/Bled....................Till-I/DIED!
And-when-I...............SOAKED-'n-DIED........and-a
Cotton-Swab...............DIED-'n-THE----DARKEST
WELL-OF-THE/HOTTEST...................TUB-of-ALL
TIME............................my-tears-did-they/fall
Till..............THE/DARKNESS-FELL.......and-the/color
Of-my/bath.............BLED................and-I/Died!
TILL.....................'YOU'-LET....................HIM
CALL!
And-'You'.................LET...........HIM........CALL!
And-that-Rainbow..........FELL............TO-A/POT
OF-PURE/GOLD!
And-I-was..............SOLD-AND-FIN-NALLY/SOLD
And-now................I-know/'You'...........DIDN'T
LIE!
GOLDEN-HAIRED................AND-BEAU-TI-FUL!
A-Match-Made-in.......................HEAVEN!
A-Designer-and-a...............GENTLEMAN!
He-Advocates.........and-Swears......TO/ME
AND-JUST/ME!
He-Sings-The/Sweetest-Songs.......and-he
DANCES-TO/ALL-NINES!
He-Rhymes-'n-Sings..............A-CLOWN-OF
ALL-TIME.....................He's-cute-'n-a
CLOWN!
Is-he....................SUPER...........or-just
A-MAN?
Does-he.................Love............or-has
He-just...............................WATCHED?
LOVE-'n-ME...........................IS-SUPER!
[Continued on Next Entry to PoetrySoupCom]
Our drive started out like any typical summer trip into Philadelphia. Both buses rolling down the highway loaded with screaming teens, eager to reach their destination in a hurry. Rush-hour traffic was heavy, the white lines hidden beneath watery mirages that lifted only briefly beneath underpasses. The skyscrapers were barely visible through the thick haze of summer's heat. The skyline had the appearance of night and day clashing off in the distance. You could smell the rain approaching.
along city streets
slight breeze carries aroma
food and wet pavement
Once the children were safely inside, the buses continued to 30th street station, the only place the city allows buses to park free. The windows were all still down and the roof hatches open as the skyline grew darker. A light show was off in the distance and approaching quickly. The homeless people were now entering the train station in hopes to stay dry and earn a meal or some quick cash.
almost homeless
young girl wears a sign
on the corner
Inside the train station a young family sits on a bench awaiting the arrival of a family member. The benches line the hallway with vendors tucked in the center isle. We sit across from the young family, facing them as an elderly gentleman approaches them. In his arms he carries a sketchpad and a piece of charcoal. The little boy, probably about 10 years old, has grown tired of sitting by now, and his teenage sitters seem agitated by his silly games, the mother in frustration hands him money for a sketch.
with quick hands
he carefully sketches
to perfection
The oldest sister now amazed asks for her's as well. The man sketches her picture to a beautiful black and white replica. The mother refuses to spend another dime and sends him away without paying. Behind us sits another elderly man. He seems to be carrying on a very intelligent conversation with himself. This amazes the children for their final hour and fills them with much knowledge as they slide in to listen.
an old man speaks
as he looks to his right
just his cane sits
The last train has now entered the station and the crowds of people are disappearing outside. The storm has now passed and the sky left a permanent black with the coming of night. We headed outside to the buses to begun our return trip home.
on the street
two yellow buses
filled with rain
My classroom has a pet crocodile
A protector of the class
he's a hunter of bass
And a gentleman scholar
He cares about your grades.
invests in the arts, attends school plays
and greets the students everyday
he’s a mainstay...
he plays a lot of roles,
wears a lot of hats
fills holes in education and
plugs gaps
On a single day
he may play ...
the role of mentor, hype guy, and father figure
The kids show him respect and call him Mister
But he was always happy with Gilbert
Everyday a student has a crisis
It doesn’t matter if you are the meanest or nicest
Your lessons will be interrupted; If hes available, if he can,
Gilbert will step in to play the role Of Gentle Man
My go-to move, is leaving a crying student with a friend
If it's something they can't share,
I'll leave them with a smile,
a notebook, a pen,
a blank prompt for a letter they won't send...
Dealing with adult issues no one can mend.
An encouraging smile a gentle nod I keep it curt
I leave them with Gilbert.
I send a message to The councilor after;
Her backlog would fill you with dark laughter
But shes a master because my students feel heard
By her and Gilbert
Gilbert has Seen some
And I don't mean the pants he was shoved down.
Or the way he was swung around
So I had to insist he only bit
But he's soft and gently and the kids love him for it
And he hears things more serious…….
I think Gilbert cries when he’s alone
the messy cry where you let out a wailing moan
Where you cry so hard you forget about vanity
The kind of crying that saves your sanity
I find my car is a good place to cry
But Gilbert is a plush crocodile and cant drive
But I have to assume he cries because everyone has to have a process for letting go of the problems that aren't theirs
The projects and missions we can’t bear.
The responsibility that isn't ours to share
Sometimes, the most important thing about Gilbert, and me, is just that we’re there.
Well.
I have to teach too.
That's what they hired me to do
And I'm excited to do my job, my kids make it easy….
When I remember to appeal to their curiosity
And sometimes it's impossible not everyone loves Geography
But Gilbert and I will be there tomorrow
And the day after and next year
Because I really feel like I found a vocation, and it’s being right here
There have been at least two people in our church who have committed suicide. A gentleman; a lady; both of whom were more acquaintances than friends. As I recall, their death occurred within a couple years of each other. I know both of their families well and see them often.
Their families are now real friends of my family.
The young lady had two surviving minor children, a boy and a girl who are being well cared for by their grandparents. The gentleman left behind a greeving wife who had also lost a son to drugs less that a year prior. Her husband, the father of the deceased son, overwhelmed by the death of their son, took his life at the son's grave site. It is very difficult to think about, but the surviving wife and mother is such an inspiration.
I have never studied anything about suicide, and have not directly done anything to prevent it. Regular attendees of our church, both parties mentioned above were very loved by their families. Our membership is about 700 people consisting of many small groups who gather for study, prayer, and fellowship. Somehow, they fell between the tracks; we failed to prevent it; nor did we even see it coming. I do not sense that there was insensitivity nor an insufficiency of love. So often 'life and death' are filled with complexities and complications. It is very difficult to prevent something you have no idea is about to happen. My experience in this area is very limited. Would to God there was more that I could say or bring to this table of despair.
Suicides; can we prevent them? Some, we can; most, perhaps not; but we must never cease to try. In the darkest places, there is somewhere a light. Somewhere, there is a spark to ignite a troubled soul, and to shout out the love to ignite the light.
The one suggestion I offer is that we dare to engage and connect with people of all types and persuasions, whether they are socialites or loners. Nothing fights and conquers fear and loneliness like love; and although love indeed projects emotions; it is 'an action word' with far more 'prevention power' than any other word in existence.
09152017 PS Contest, Suicide Prevention Month, Laura Loo
CAN ONE BE ARRESTED FOR YELLING LIAR IN A CHURCH?
You pious people in your pews
All you reading about the arrival of some wondrously good news
A new horizon can’t you see?
Well imagine you were with my wife, infant child and me
We three had left together but suddenly there were four
And I’m not certain about much more
Four in the quietude of dripping rain
No one letting go of the pinching pain
because only the rain deserves such disdain
We picked up a hitchhiker as into rough waters we’d wade
And the gentleman told us to please call him ‘Suade’
And called this a “storm by madness made”
And then he made us walk blindly through the wood
Until he told us to stay precisely where we stood
in the wilderness it is a mean and uncertain gamble
As you amble through the briars and the brambles
You need to possess a lot of fortitude
Because the icy winds are oftentimes too rude
Suddenly Suede swung and that’s when my hope and strength were to fade
He rose up like an oak in a forest of fear and I opposing Suade
A madman, a maniac, a massacre made
And in that infinitesimal and infinite second, although I am a pacifist, I could have killed Suede
Then suddenly the fighting was done
As Suede screamed orders I just wanted us all to run
And doth did both men huddle close to his opponent
While adding Suede’s scent akin to camel dung to the troubles of his component
There were three of us and he was only one
But the one who wields the power is the one who wields a gun
His mind was set on our flower of a daughter whom he decided to pluck
Now let’s all go out and find her,yeah, lots of luck
Suddenly he just stole our baby away
I begged him to let our baby stay
Away I say, and gone perhaps for ever and good
Hidden n a new area, in a brand new neighborhood
All we wanted to do was give a ride and fill a need to help the needy
But some men are seedy and too many of them are greedy
His scowl was darkness, his blackish eyes seemed way too dim
And that’s virtually all we can remember of him
While the police find not the culprit in a world of the gross and the grim
While most of us believed us finding her were slim
My wife and I were defenseless and both our hearts were horrendously hurt
Oh, and we were only the second parents to use what we now named an “Amber Alert”
© 2011.….