Long Glues Poems
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Part Two
Do you remember your run-up to the crease
your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
at the wicket that went on a no-ball
Do you remember your opening bat
that snicked the runs to leg and off
which dozing umpires signalled as byes from pads
Do you remember Brigitte
her perky bobtail
her boucles of prancing hair
lances on her forehead
sickles on her verti-vir-ginous temples
Where are the bridges you have crossed
and those you had planned
and those you saw grow pebble by pylon and cementing stone
where the roads you laid
up virgin forest and limestone
Where indeed the buildings you repaired
erected
re-erected and razed
and the thousands and thousands of miles
you rode the wild seladang of the primeval jungle
hand on hump
with no stars in the paly night to guide you
through venomous blukar
and the boiling green torture
seared deep into your burning entrails
these that now have run out on you
Watch now how the river glues under your fuming stare
when the monsoon torrents sweep the knock-knee-ed pylons to a side
those dry as split-bark legs of yours
itching once too often in comforting company
though a little spindly for a Pied Piper
Yet you made the puppety Peninsula run
down drains and monsoon pipes
to a purge-full sea
Who is there now who wouldn't wake to your fits of irrupting gurgly merriment
to ease the tension
amongst unlikely fellows
Who who wouldn't miss your seething whiteheat glee
at his side
You who knew how to accompany Kay and Richard
up to the closed door of your last night
a very good night on your lips
Your opening bat's duty done
the side shored-up in safekeeping
the last fast breathless ball you faced
nicking the bails off
You needn't return to the pavilion
for the standing ovation goes on
for you Bala
long after the cloddy-stumps lie slain on the tiled floor
© T.Wignesan 1993 August 8, 1993 - Paris [from the collection: back to background material, 1993]
In the summer Hot Weather, is the season of expressing the ultimate calamity of days of
unbearable treasure. The measure of pleasure is fullfill as the season soon turns bitter
cold. And now we prepare ourselfs for a new-season, a new direction as we get use to the
change in the atmosphere we give respect to the fact that, "Everything is Everything".
That an awsume creator in his infanite wisdom rain comes in all seasons and snow comes
in one season of Winter. I can remember the fun throwing snowball fights I share with my
brother and sisters and my friends growing up. The tree's change nothing seem to be the
same. Yes the cold-winter was cold, but they drifted apart, going in their different direc-
tion their shelter of protection is their own choosing, and we soon started our own fam-
ilie's, "still the season, brought on a much appreachable change". In the fall, we pull out
the rakes and we were given responsibilitie's to keep the yard neat and tiny. "Everything is
Everything", do you remember a season that you-not remember when you began to change.
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall all you have to do is call, and I'll be there yes I will cause
you got a friend. "Why do those moment seem forgotten", WHY... well those moments may-
be found through your kid's and your kid's are the moments you taught them to get up when
they fall. The season not to walla about everyday crisis is the moments that appears dim
and a season of Uplifting decorum is in all due season. At every believer's front door and
non believers too, is a season that the creator manifested you to be awear and that you
be the one to take everything to GOD in prayer: "Just because the weather turns cold
from the season that it was hot", "it rains on the just and the unjust, in all in all don't for-
get that friendship is the bond that glues the reasons to grap the loose change...
In all due season, "Everything is Everything".
Love too all that keeps the main
thing the main thing!!!.. `Cheryl
doll33` "Everything is Everything"
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Sopheceles studs chorale the Martyrdom call 'ems
ant-chant Thyme dash and Cheyenne bled-cles
and Mud Squadrorns dove colorblind
Link on-a-role spiked with trail and errs past
Prosed Persident Mar. Argo near Key Bask Lame
22kay ears like Bugs Sunny and Share sin-Gold
may-jar-of-tea of her punched shingles made
class sick of nerds of those Stolen Wars
They kicked-dirt-eyed others
The Survivors Tell-A-Cast close familiars were
Cons in tents and I-glues and tippies of homelessness
that Pros address, re-Moat of the Capitol Hill
Masqued based on perverts of those floral nature
hyper-ethical breathes a gnu presence
that will halve all life kind existent
clueless to the verve climb
The prophetic reel cavity of the Whooping Cranium
hell-bent, Como tally vu: Straght dope,
Comme-ci comme-ca: Same-o same-o,
Je parle un peu francais: Do you speak French?
Heaven-sent, Das ist richtig meinen freunde:
That is right my friends, "Danke schon dahling
danke schon": Thank you darling thank you,
Sprechen si deutsch: Do you speak German?
Affect boredom-lain, racial sophistry
as skin tones raze issues tossing shade
a constant advent for hair-raising accidents
electrocution and the radio activate channel
Kamehameha lost his underwear
and feared the recent conversion of his mythological
ancient high priest HewaHewa of the old gods
heeded Missionaries to overthrow the Heiaus/temples.
My ohana/family Heiau Waha Ula/Red Mouth is Pele's
temple where human sacrifices were done by warriors,
placing those sacrifices' heads on a large rock in the middle
of the Heiau and bashing their head with a heavy club.
Waha Ula Heiau was the last torn down fearing Pele's curse.
After his warriors destroyed Pele's Heiau, on their return
to Kamehameha's Kohala home, several hundred
of warriors died in the lava pit, immortalized in Volcano.
OMG? Can I use MayDay in the month of June?
On earth I know of no such taste,
No nectar of the Gods so chaste,
So pure, so gentle, full of grace;
As my true love, tomato paste.
Good “ketchup”, as you’re widely known
Wouldst that I could all thee own;
Round thee, ketchup, I’m thy drone;
Ascend thee to thy regal throne.
In bottle, you with bright, red sheen,
You beckon like a harlot queen,
And oh, my heart is swiftly keened,
Like babes to mothers wean.
The bottle tipped, thy rich, red ooze
Slips forth like soft and tumbling glues,
And marvel I. Yet I must choose
T’annoint the heads of sleeping foods:
‘Pon fish or chips or stoutly steak
Thy blessing might I deign to make,
And slowly o’er them thou dost snake
In anacondic swirls and takes.
I praise thee, ketchup, and I haste
To glory at thy noble taste:
‘Pon my tongue you swiftly chase
My tingling taste buds, and you race –
O’er my teeth you blood-like flow
‘til all my senses rush to know
Thy rich and red and warmly glow
- - and so!
O ketchup, thou art garnish queen
And thou art gracious food supreme,
Companion thou hast often been
To many foods of lesser mien.
And this I know, dear ketchup, yet
Have I in faith, one great regret:
Though I and you in love are set,
. . . my wife and you are in dissent.
Must our affair be clandestine?
Must I be forced to steal and hide
My fuller portion on the side
Of mashed potatoes, shrimp, or pie?
No, ketchup no: I know that I
With such deceit cannot comply;
Choose I must ‘tween thou and my
Belov’d . . . oh how I cry.
Yet wed so long, I must confess
When “pass the ketchup” is address’d
No more my hand will serve excess,
. . . but my dear heart will cry no less.
Every creative word just glues to the madness
and every blessed breath just oozes love-without-you sadness
Break and pauses
effects and causes
they all lead
they all read
heartache.
How much more do I have to take?
I just keep wishing you here,
willing you here,
day dreaming you here,
So, I'll have the chance to get to know you
show to
grow new
words to use when I write
about our time together,
and not my dreams of having you near,
wishing you here ,
willing you here.
day dreaming you here.
I picture every scenario
so you can't surprise me
I picture you walking in right now and saying
let's be you and me and learn how to be
new- let's screw
Let's talk and walk or sit a bit
Let's spend our now together
adjusting nothing but sprouting
rerouting what it means to grow
to show
to know
love.... by living it together.
If you need a break from connection
you can have your own section of the day,
take the whole month of may
just be here now with me
...but your not...
I can only dream so much
before I notice your hand is not in mine
I can only pray so much
before I question the leading of the divine.
God, what can bring him to me?
Is this your will out that I spill out,
that I kill doubt....?
Or is it spit that I stay fit.
Yet another Ode and call for wit
from a lonely soul who doesn't know
if its true love that drives arrives and dives
into the daydream-felt-love-affair with him.
Does it matter to you that its no longer what you look like...
get fat and loose all your money
so we can just be together....its nothing!
I love but you.... just you...you.... just you....
Do you believe me?
Can you see me?
Will you ever know?
I love you.
Form:
Vogon ReVisited—
Voltage elect potential energy tween two points ver vnit vharged;
Visible referring light spectrum intergalactic, electromagnetic,
vadiation that has a wavelength tween vanometers;
Can be seen by the human eye.
Invasions, implosions humanity asks WHY?
wazz!!!vitellogenesis b gruntions of diverse dumberly dew vibertarian;
Volume the amount of space objects subvance occupies encloses velocity;
Rates of change position vogaon’s willing to salvage respect to time;
Vapor a substance in gaseous,
phases at substance’s critical temperature;
Volatility vaporize given temperate vogonized;
Look at em, better recognized…
Vacuum space that is absent of matter,
wazz!!!vitellogenesis b gruntions of diverse dumberly dew vibertarian;
Verify ...
Vortex Valence to electrons,
the electrons atom’s outermost shell;
Vectorized quantity viscositized fluid’s resistance to flow;
Vacuole a membrane waste, in vogon molecules;
Vesicle organelle fluid Volartarian vocal valetudinarian, Value!!!
Vocha!! Vasodilatations as they gooberly glues clues choice boast;
Volartarian vocal humanitarian lizards;
valetudinaries vogonians manure smelly be gross locket;
See them evil vandalizations those gobblesr warts grumbles the host rocket;
See the visiting valiens vogonians reaching earth;
Imagine with me what's a vogon worth;
As once again they revisits earth…
Vocha!! wazz!!!vitellogenesis b gruntions of diverse dumberly dew vibertarian;
RUN SAVE YOURSLEVES THOSE Vogon’s are here on earth…
7/24/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Written for project North Omaha Writer’s Group assignment 2019©
Friendship: Just Like a Palm Tree
By Izunna Okafor
From the crusts of lonely loams
It gently roots inner and outer
And softly pullulates harder and taller
To register its purpose to mankind.
Like the trunk, the bond glues harder
To the closely open hearts of soil
Who signed for mutual reciprocation.
Its oil heals internal and external wounds
Smoothens the rough path in the journey of life
And generally satisfies the ravenous and thirsty mind
Amidst love, sweetness and uncommon affableness.
It is a shelter
To those who faithfully embrace it
It is a protection
From both the seen and the unseen blitzes.
Though it might be swayed or troubled at times
The frond fans away fears, worries and anxieties
And breezes up pleasure and comfort
Drawing from the wind and coolness of the heavens above.
From its base to the apex
Valuable is every tranche thereof
Beholding its mutual and universal foredeal
Both in the long and the short runs.
Just like a palmtree
Friendship is fecund, impactful, virtuous and gainful
Though bad may fitfully come therefrom
That, the good utterly outweighs.
About the Poet:
Izunna Okafor is a bourgeoning novelist, poet, journalist, essayist, publicist, administrator and an Igbo Language Activist who hails from Ebenator in Nnewi South Local Government Area of Anambra State.
He writes both in Igbo and English Languages, and has published enormously in both.
Izunna, a graduate of the Nnamdi Azikiwe University, has won over 20 literary awards, has four published books to his credit, in addition to hundreds of online publications, which cut across Journalism and Creative Writing.
RED-
Pillar boxes that stand open-mouthed
Waiting to be fed.
And plump ripe strawberries,
Dipped in sugar,
Smothered in cream.
Or just popped in your mouth
And squashed between your teeth
YELLOW-
Buttercups that shine under your chin
To give away your secrets.
And hot corn on the cob
That drips with butter
And smacks your lips.
PINK-
Candyfloss,like fluffy cotton wool
That glues to your fingers
And disappears in your mouth.
And gooey icing on the top
Of long sticky buns.
GREEN-
Grass that prickles your skin
When you run barefoot.
And unripe apples
Hanging from trees
That beg to be eaten
Till your tummy hurts!
ORANGE-
Fruit that juices your throat
And dribbles your chin.
And bonfire flames
Glowing and warm
That crackle and spit
And reach with poker fingers
If you get too near.
VIOLET-
Like the flowers, and the lilac
In blossom time.
And sweet smelling lavender
That crushes itself
On your hands
And reminds you of Grandma.
BLUE-
Sky on a clear sunny day
That dangles above your fingers
Just out of reach.
And the warm sea
That plunges you
Into its' playful waters
And wraps you up
In its' waves.
And then there are
Multi-coloured things,
Like ribbons,ballons and streamers.
Kites that play chase with the wind.
The wings of butterflies
And painted carnival faces.
And of course the rainbow
That appears bright and magical,
Soaring high above
Houses and tree tops
On to nowhere land,
Lighting up the sky
With its brilliance.
Then is gone,
Scattering itself
To be remembered
Among colour favourites.
See the impacted eyes, heavy
and the frozen heart, begging
to be released; the tongue
dry, but the cheeks like a flume.
See the round table keep things
close to their chest, lest they spill
the fragility, each glass fragment
that stabs, glues together like
a madman’s vase, complete
with a bouquet of black roses.
Indecent the descent of disheartening;
refusal to believe in uncoupling;
what a crap shoot, show, expletive.
See touch, the tangible eyedropper,
mike drop, warm shawl; a momentary
squeeze of a lemon. Lies go down the drain -
momentarily, mightily, momentously;
bubbling up as a panacea when drained
of all kith and kin; their comfort
and understanding underwhelming,
often pitiful, a pittance. what is needful
is others likewise in a sinking boat,
keeping one another just above
the water line; bailing out each
other’s pain; finding camaraderie
in the breaking; the flowers in the vase
turn dark blue and purple - deep.
See the healing begin, for some.
Some run, some squeeze the lemon,
some rely on the lies. See the death mask
tremble, then a phantom’s half;
never quite whole but jewels
replace the wizened half.
See the pain, the cuts, and crimson eyes.
Don’t become a master of disguise.
See the help, the forest through the trees,
remember your honeybees
given to eternity; find them in the honeycomb.