Long Go berserk Poems
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Life has thrown dirt on me, and I grew a wild flower.
A demon's knife cuts into my spirituality, and I watch my soul be devoured.
Open Bibles lay on my night stands, I keep crosses hanging over each bed.
In my mind I'm wondering wastelands, and I feel like the walking dead!
The emotional scars can't seem to heal, and I search frantically for a way out.
I know Satan is looking for a soul to steal, and so he challenges me to a 12 round bout!
He throws all my weaknesses at me; not one or two, but all at one time.
I indulge in adultery, pick up a gun, inhale some cocaine residue, and set out to commit a
crime!
His evil punches right through me, gripping my heart, and twisting it from side to side.
An upheaval crashes into my reality, tearing my world apart, pushing me closer to suicide!
He keeps a band of demons in my head, and they're doing pushups and jumping jacks in my
mind.
Tear stained cheeks from tears I've shed, and his attacks have left me mentally blind.
Out of the blue, I have a sudden desire to fight back.
I wipe away the cocaine residue, for in my chest the fire feels like a shot of cognac!
I pull my fiery sword from my spiritual backpack, and get in my battle stance.
Like bombs over Iraq, me and the devil begin to violently dance.
It is a dance of death, and I am determined to survive!
I refuse to let this entity take my last breath, and so my will kicks in to overdrive!
The blows from this devil staggers me, and I feel uneasy on my feet.
My sword begins to glow with a hot fury, and I can feel my hammering heartbeat.
I begin to shake with rage, and gripping my sword I go berserk.
This devil had all the powers of a battle mage, but I let my blade do the work!
Spiritually, mentally, I slice and dice this demonic foe.
I will not be this entities sacrifice, for I'm the last heir of Edgar Allen Poe.
I'm gaining spiritual momentum, but I refuse to stop.
As I destroy this devils evil system, I continue to conquer life's mountain top!
Suddenly this evil is banished in a puff of black smoke, never to be seen again.
I remove my blood soaked black cloak, and I feel as if I'm finally purged of my sin.
I now thirst for a new beginning, and the taste of life is sweet and sour.
A former loser, now focused on winning, and no longer am I a wilted wild flower!!
There is an eagle flying
above a pure blue lake,
white head with a brown body,
and long feathers, proud and straight.
On its feet are long talons,
finest yellow you can find,
they’ll strike like a rattlesnake
if you give him a hard time.
Many critters look at him,
from the ground and from the trees,
they marvel at the eagle
and how it always flies free.
The eagle has its purpose,
and it has its normal prey,
most animals are all right
if they stay out of its way.
But rats and snakes despise it,
as they scurry in the dirt,
fear the eagle may come down
as they go about their work.
They burrow deep underground
to escapes its slashing feet,
and curse that there’s an eagle
who’s forever flying free.
Some predators don’t like him,
as they’re out hunting the weak,
since the eagle will hunt them,
diving down with a large screech.
They can’t prey on everyone
when the eagles fly up there,
have to fear for their own lives,
stick to shadows, move with care.
As long as there’s an eagle
there are places they can’t be,
they hate that something that strong
is allowed to just fly free.
Some small birds hate the eagle,
and annoy him when he flies,
you see them in small numbers,
making short, half-hearted dives.
Though they’re much like the eagle,
they’re still fearful of his strength,
the eagle just rolls his eyes,
has no need to target them.
Wonders why they don’t get it,
they are high up but don’t see
that you always need eagles
high above and flying free.
Sometimes even the eaglets
will look at these other birds,
and want to be just like them,
with the eagle finds absurd.
Why would one embrace weakness
in a world that preys on it?
The small birds all get eaten,
snakes and rats will do their bit.
They’re young and lack perspective,
eagle-eyed but they can’t see
that they were born true eaglets,
that they’re destined to fly free.
Without the eagle up there
things will quickly go berserk,
if your take out an apex
ecosystems do not work.
Too many rats and snakes crawl,
fox and coyote run amok,
killing all that they can get,
you will not find hare or duck.
Until that lake and its shores
become barren and empty,
you need that eagle up there,
and you need him to fly free.
Adjusting Appetizing Palates.
I have sampled the variety,
I am the one who has tasted life;
The one who has had a taste of life.
Rarely indulged in the main course-
Seldom a full meal-
I come hungry-
To leave satisfied...
I want more substance.
Sampled the world on wooden toothpicks.
I have had itty bits of everything.
Piecemeal offerings to try entice my loyalty.
Old ladies with new recipes passing
them around on trays in supermarkets of the world.
I come back for more free samples.
The more I have traveled the more
I have sampled life.
Moi-Moi- and peanut butter stew.
I have tasted life with different seasonings and spices -
Tried a variety of cultural dishes - Some bland, some spicy
Tried the soul food of each one's pride as
I swallowed mine.
I have never gained control of my soul.
It wandered with me sampling life on platters.
Now desirous of healing-fish soup.
I wanted more – Traveled;
Partook of more –
Tasting life's offerings from the - rich to the poor.
Drank out of Chrystal as well as tin cups.
I have eaten from Chinaware,
and drank from gourds,
I have supped on
Hors-d'oeuvre and canapes';
Inner-voices led me to hot rocks and tepees—
Sweat camps with medicinal potions.
Tasting life in places where strange
medicine men reside.
I have eaten rice in 2000 languages.
In Asian and Indian tongues.
I swapped collard greens for callaloo;
Then stepped up to taste breadfruit -
Filled up on Ackee and Saltfish a
Exotic palatable dish.
Though never full off of life –
Not gluttony statutes yet, I have done
more than get my “whistle wet"
Still, I am glad:
“Oh, how grateful to be alive”.
Able to sample the tender morsels
of appetizers so fine.
Even though I am a
Connoisseur of fine wine.
…and have enjoyed plenty
tidbits of earth’s great bounty--
In this life.
I have supped in the finest cuisines.
Treated royally as if I were a queen.
I have supped in mansions,
or sat, an ate under exotic trees;
Yet, there is nothing so satisfying-and no one abler.
As to be back in the hood, trying not to go berserk;
Waiting for a slice of Sweet Potato pie for dessert.
After getting my grub on, at Grandmas table.
Grab your gun, check the amo. Lock it back. Take a look out on
the world and fade to black. Go berserk. Lie your
conscience in the dirt. Let the pain and the anger do some
team work. Put your tears up front. Grab your mess list and
do a man hunt. Mercy, no. Pity, no. Go real rude and blunt.
Violate anyone who said love but did not mean it. Annihilate
those who's respect was stated but you have not seen it. Inseminate trust
with rage, so fury can escape from it's cage. Incriminate
hope so that hate gain's control of the stage. Isolate your
wrath and let it marinate on some vengeance. Obliterate faith
and let envy commence. It's common sense, this has to
happen for your self defense. Need some evidence, the price
tag on your state of mind is at who's expense? Don't get tense,
I've been there, and wrote a book. To kill the suspense, I'll
let you take a look. It's a hymnbook, a road map on not getting
shook. Tell me, does life do a how to on how to avoid the fishhook. I'm
tripping, sorry, don't get scared. If I was serious, to say no, are you prepared?
You get one shot to mess me over, then it's done. I'm not
heartless, but I'm not stupid, after one there's none. Make use
of your opportunity, see me run. Come again you stand against
Chester Walker's grandson. Dare to touch a hair on a child
you can see my slug. I'm not a hustler, but for the seeds I
can be a thug. Claiming your a Christian, but really your a decoy.
Let me spark my Newport, then I'll smoke you like a vice
roy. If you pitstop in the path of the young, I'll pop you like I
do a merlot. If you fight for a cameo, I'll re-write the scenario.
You walkabout the future like our concern is in
doubt. Watch the turnout, like Chnese food we'll take
you out. I use the bible like it's an antibiotic. Think
I will let my kin fall, well, you are psychotic. bring
my people despair, give them unrest, show them ridicule.
I'll do you worse than Lara Croft on Princess Toadstool.
Coming against the children is two strikes, and my people is one.
I'm talking to satan, but if the shoe fit's, than our war has begun.
Form:
Like the Vikings who left us this word – ‘berserk’
some of us may have shown it through human reaction,
where we go berserk against disproportionate behaviors
such anger or infuriation that defines the immediate actions.
It’s still very human to act in this way with sudden eruption,
when inner anger overrules and makes us manifest towards others;
a strong element that fuels harsh words and outrage within,
oh, what a state of mind! so capable to influence us in many ways.
But Jesus Christ’s experience when confronted with torture,
suffering, crucifixion and eventually death in his heroic way;
his courage and humility which are worth mentioning here.
truly, a sublime reaction against those pains and persecutions.
He becomes human who copes with greater risks and pains,
identified not as a historical Jesus of natural stoicism;
with his real grasp of what his destiny may entail along the process,
his only response – to embrace the cross which means so much for us.
On Good Friday reminds us of his passion and crucifixion,
being betrayed, denied and left alone in humiliation;
in darkness and dread, in sorrow and bereavement,
he remains true to his mission and love for all the people.
His lonely agony in the garden of Gethsemane,
touches us so profoundly as he awaits for his destiny;
here is his obedience to the Father whom he prays to,
one with him, distinct in person, one in the Trinity.
Courage or bravery is worth remembering here,
it’s born out of a vision that comprises his self-giving;
that knows no fear but is moved with deep reflection,
all for otherness, all for humanity, all because of his love for people.
In today’s world where we’re constantly tempted with selfishness,
self-centeredness or obsession for power, money and prestige;
Christ’s journey with his disciples makes us reflect what it means,
to be a disciple is to be willing to sacrifice for the sake of others.
Locked inside a triangle of thoughts for you
Remembering my days you painted them from blue
Reminiscing on the days of short memories we made
Feeling like our time - was jipped and played
I don't feel I had an exceptionally long time with us at all
I feel like had we had more time - stuff could've been resolved
Although we could've balanced us - maybe we could've evolved
(Not that this is true) but I feel like almost 7 years was punished from you
You're a self-confessed introvert & you really love your work
I felt like everything you did - there I was to lurk
You expected me to stay 10-12 hours on a beach just to watch you
But when Holly's bored she'll be a if she has nothing to do
You'd say I was always in my head & didn't wanna interact with you
But if I did you'd get snappy 'cause you're working - & that's so true
You wanted me to talk & when I did you seemed uninterested,
& would only have conversations with me that you selected
(At the time) my patience sucked to understand & learn to write code with you
The concept of I.T. stuff (unless administration) there's no way I can do
You'd go almost every day not saying anything at all to me
But hardly ever balanced it so where you & I could together be free
At the time I didn't get it - at the time I didn't see
The infinite ways we could've been so good
If we had put the work in, to make sure both of us understood
It was difficult 'cause you were always stressed
We forgot if we tried together it could come out so blessed
You forgot together that we make a damn good team
But we were both too stubborn to believe it
Neither of us were ready & willing to receive it
We can't block each other out & expect it to work
Otherwise we'd both bottle it up & go berserk
If it were important to each other's selection
Then we would've made a conscience effort to put in more genuine affection
A man came here to speak today,
students did not like him at all,
egged of by professors, quite enraged,
with no decency at all.
They claim we should ‘hear all sides,’
but when this man dared to speak,
they rioted and the police arrived
to end their fit of pique.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A man knelt down in quiet prayer
outside, during his break from work.
A coworker cried,”Can’t do that there!”
and proceeded to go berserk.
Yet when Khalil did the same,
facing east to find Mecca,
coworker said,”Respect their culture!
You have too, it’s the law!”
How delightfully tyrannical.
A boy applied to university,
his scores were of highest rank.
but his skin was too pale, you see,
and the admissions team, it stank.
It dropped him for a darker hue,
so it could claim it was ‘diverse.’
the poor boy was completely screwed
by academics quite perverse.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A businessman forgot to check
a small box on his tax returns.
Little then did he suspect
that this would get him burned.
Others, he knew, had been let go
for making such a small mistake,
but he did not have ‘correct’ politics,
and down came the weaponized state.
How delightfully tyrannical.
A newsman made Reifenstahl proud
when he targeted a small café,
who’s owner had said out loud
that his faith wasn’t keen on gays.
So that ‘objective’ media man
spread this guy’s private views around.
Protestors beat him till he couldn’t stand,
then left him lying on the ground.
How delightfully tyrannical.
They all come with smiles, big and broad,
they say ‘history is on our side,’
but if you do anything but applaud
they’ll crow that you should die.
Try to explain freedom to them,
they’ll proclaim you’re a fascist fool.
Try to explain individuality
and they’ll declare you racists too.
How delightfully tyrannical.
Sic semper tyrannis…
Oh, hail the champions of the couch potato throne,
Whose true inspiration is laziness alone!
From the depths of sloth, great inventions arise,
A tribute to those who prefer their dreams to the skies.
The remote control, a marvel of our time,
No more adjusting; we’ve reached our prime!
With just a flick of the wrist, oh what a delight,
To change the channel without leaving our site.
Cleaning is tedious or so one did claim,
So they invented the vacuum, and we’re forever in their fame!
No more scrubbing and toiling on hands and knees,
Just let that machine do the work, if you please!
Ah, walking, who wants to do that, I say?
It’s tiresome and boring, let’s drive instead, hooray!
With vehicles zooming, we speed past the grind,
Why take a stroll when you can leave all that behind?
And farming, oh farming, what a back-breaking chore,
One bright soul thought, “Let’s mechanize more!”
With tractors and harvesters, the fields are now neat,
All hail the lazy who made our meals sweet!
So here’s to our sweet lazy folk, we salute you,
Your capacity for finding ways to do nothing is true!
With fantastic bliss, you redefine hard work,
Living is hard enough; let’s not go berserk!
Work smart, not harder, is the motto we cheer,
Why sweat and toil when the solution is clear?
With AI to assist, the future is bright,
Let’s embrace our laziness; it’s our shining light!
Laziness, dear friends, is no longer a jest,
It’s a celebration of comfort, and we’re truly blessed.
The bulk of our science, our knowledge, our creed,
Born of the need to make life easy indeed.
So let’s raise a toast to all those who conspire,
To find the easiest way, lifting our hearts ever higher.
Impressive achievements from the effort of none,
In the heroics of laziness, we’ve already won!
Poets: Tzeblon Ft Paciolo Pen Saint Ft Abisola
Where numbers were wished to become valuable notes,
barrows are made to carter their northern struggles,
butterflies dare not tread these places– it wings might see the face of doom/ even lions succumb to its travails at times...
Don't walk these plains if you don't have the ear for noise– of thievery, anger, hustle and maybe the audible sobs of an empty stomach,
On this side... I am still there,
we sell our sweats for a penny
so don't come near if you don't have the arm for struggles,
an eye for ruthlessness,
legs for swiftness– who knows when the men in black will go berserk again...
Valour is all that matters on this side
and that's why we are still breathing
so tell them...
these streets ain't just for poets...
Like I used to say.
(2)
The first crack lines
On the other side you see,
Are butchered fountains of hope
Those struggles are driven by "at least"
Don't let our grave mock us
Dying not feeling at home "again"
The second crack noises you hear
Like the roars of the OAU lions
Pale - sick but weave with fury
Yeah, just that - rage - nothing more
The crack lines/voices behind the wall of our lives
On the other side of the street
Ain't for poet / but strong poets
Who still can scribe/not the dead ones who've given up but still live
(3)
The sacred memory_better locked in Oblivion
Trembling feet of ill_fated
Walls of facade
With a glamorous appearance
Glittering shone all a mirage
Lies the stone_which mustn't be turned
For in it begot tools of destruction
Sweet sound of pain agonize the dwellers
Where death is soothing
On the other side lies the most dreadful
History of mankind
Here I go, writing the bare truth with this alter ego,
so nuts I'll go, expressing my thoughts so no one knows as I let go.
I could of wrote this under my own name
but for the thunder of the pain
it'll bring 'cus they'll complain and I can't be bothered to explain.
I can't be tamed, so I'll relieve my brain and no one is named.
I'm talking about those two demon siblings
who stand as one hurting my feelings like true villains.
They are my own who I disown
and boot out of my life so they become unknown.
Right after I confront them face to face with no remorse,
with my outburst of rage set for a collision course,
even if I hurt them they've still hurt me worse,
they made my mind go berserk,
two nasty jerks with embarrassing quirks.
Looking down on me as though I'm a peasant
but at present I'm isolated and feel unpleasant,
so they better keep a distance
'cus I'm worn down by the persistent
refusal to include my presence,
they are rude so I've no resistance
left to prevent a handing out of pain and it is possible
that in this event I will be unstoppable,
they've been to cruel and hurtful to not be evil,
so when I'm done they wont be able to crawl or move at all,
it'll be brutally horrid but enjoyable
watching as they go off to hospital,
and what the hell if I end up in jail,
I would have been so loyal
but that's been spoiled.
Thank god I got to see what a relation can be,
before all this it was something I could not see.
Now I'm gracious as I know where my place is,
but my god if I see their faces
I'll behave outrageous,
I gave and was betrayed,
they've made me dangerous,
and I'll get locked away but they are the ones that belong in cages.