Long God man Poems
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SONG TO THE RUINS OF AMERICA
With the Glyn Ford’ eyes:
"Fascist Europe-The Rise of Racism and Xenophobia"
I see with horror how from an american country to another
Racism and Xenophobia are cultivated in ist fields
Inspecting the growth of fascism and its relationship
With the capitalist families’ domain
As Daniel Guerin saw in his “Fascism and Big Busines”
When Fascism was flourishing in Germany and Italy
For nothing.
Cities and fields returns to watering the river Biederitz
Feeder of the river Elba
That brings the Hitler and Eve’s cremated and crushed remains
Together with others of theirs on the studio couch
Where they were found suicided
Perhaps the same couch of love where Neville Chamberlain
the British Prime Minister was sat.
River that joins and, at the end, matchs to the river Potomac
In Chesapeake Bay, Atlantic Ocean
Rested in backwater of the White House’ pool
Built in its foundations and frames
by slaves and Irish and Italian workers without papers
that tomorrow will come to call "Trumpbunker".
He’ll walk in the middle of the garden
Arrogant his figure as a God with joke eyes, body to much he-man
And penisly classic figure
whose Te Deum will be of the Asses and the Marquis of Sade.
Heil¡ He’s the “Uro of Heck" big, robust, with long horns
a brown copper hair, with skin of a certain form
with fierce behaviour.
Heil¡ He’s the new Thartac, God of the Hivites with Ass-headed
well known and loved by priests and parish priest.
Nor the snow neither the wind will lash, that they believe
The angry figure of this God-man who loves life
As a desolated tyrant with dizziness of sex just nasty
running towards the void of a great National and Global Zoo
upon which will erect a statue to the Ass
to which will come the souls of the Eve’s terrier breed scottish dogs
and the Hitler’ German Shepherd Dog with her cubs
to piss lifting up its leg.
And Fabius will sing near the doors of the White House
The new "Trumpbunker"
the Rodrigo Caro’s paraphrased song to the Ruins of Italica:
"These, Trump, poor me¡ that you see now
Lonely fields, gloomy hill
Were a time great America”.
Because the crime, the evil, the cruel and bloody
Assembly of wars against another peoples and nations
Ever returns, sooner or later, against one and another.
One thing I'll neva do is provide a pre-packaged product for you
I'm quality food, so mouth shut, shallow and chew
Speaking in tongues. I came to shower people with love
like, you're not breathing enough, and that's the reason you suck
some cats can't follow me past the first line
too deep for the small mind
I laugh it up, no matter what's happening, I'm fine
just glad to be alive
focused, precise, and in total control of my life
you ain't nothin but a chump to me, just company property rap
I'm watching my back, burn bridges at the drop of a hat
ripping mics and living like Jesus for now
so if you see me in town, let me sleep on your couch, really
am-bivalent about the thought of fans listening
and watching my hands scribbling contraband images
yes, you are now in tune with the sound of poverty
album quality, straight to underground economy
you heard about the dirty weapons cause you never witnessed it
Imma human television with depth and vivid images
what's the gameplan? watch my ego do a faceplant
a chan, a god man, used to have a basic cable brainspan.
what you got, dude? nothing but a rhyme and a hot loop
and a promise you can stop it the second it's not true
now you rappers make it hard to believe in your music
I hear what you're saying, the problem is I see what you're doing
now if I bless the beat, best believe I spoke it honestly
because I know you're watching me like the flow was stolen property
so from all the love and respect to all the stuff I regret
when it's five o clock in the morning and nothing is left
no lies and no secrets to hide from those demons
cuz we live like dogs and we die for no reason
so strip the language away, the games that we play,
be creative and brave and drop some knowledge today,
with single moms living on some government checks
who struggle with debt facing a future that's nothing but stress
see, I choose to speak to those who truly need the food and heat
losing sleep while their favorite rapper shops for jewlery
kids who learned firsthand the truth is useless
going to school with bruises and a thousand smooth excuses
broken down for those who doubt the pain behind the music
like, let's rewind the tape so I can find the frame to prove it
You dare to tell me what you think you know
Intellectual egotistical bravado?
You think that you can out think the Plan
Where nothing was and
. . .
BANG! The universe began?
. . .
The cosmic Know you think to challenge?
While the gene pool we swim in is so shallow?
Explain to me the black hole or atom
The gravity
that we can't fathom
Or singularity
where time stands still
Or dark energy
Unseen but real
How 2 plus 2 is never 5
How gravity bends light and time
Do thoughts move faster than does light?
Prove sarcasm, love, or even fright
How sound travels yet can't be seen
Or exactly how life came to be
Big bounce? Big Bang?
String theory or brane?
Is Laminin what it seems to be?
How Neutrinos pass through cold steel beams?
Why some men choose gold over life
While letting children starve and die
And in the name of gods men kill and lie
Religion can't mask their Godless pride
Explain to me sir if you can
Is man your god
Or is your god man
Or how a seed can crack and die
And press through dirt up towards the sky
Universe? Multiverse? Or parallel?
Who's to say or who can tell?
Explain to me sir if you can
The event horizon Kerr, oh vain man
You think that you can know it all
While the speck we live on is so small
Did you know that pride precedes your looming fall?
At one time you thought the earth was flat.
Now you mock and scoff at that.
Yet you're still willing for magic beans to trade the cow,
Or your children's future for the here and now
Can you feed all the hungry with what you know?
Can you stop hate, and make love grow?
Can you conquer fear in your Petri dish?
Or should I just click my heels and make a wish?
Maybe Something Somewhere is bigger than us.
That we can't fathom, but can discuss.
But if we are to do that you must know,
Your superstition has to go.
I'm not talking bout 4 leaf clovers.
Or chanting some prayer over and over.
Ain't talking bout black cats crossing the road,
Or eye of bat or oil of toad.
I'm talking about what you think you know,
Your pride my brother has got to go.
But that pride helps cover up your fear
It blinds your eyes
Stops up your ears.
I'm telling you man just let it go
And let's have a frank discussion about our souls?
Psalm 14:1
Listen! Here come the horses,
War machines, a myriad of forces!
'Whitewash', the white horse, is first,
Those deceptive words rehearsed.
Peace as a pretense to conquer,
Glossy until he grows stronger.
'Butcher', the red horse, unleashed,
Civil unrest and sword unsheathed.
Laying claim to the Earth,
Mixing lifeblood with turf.
Black are the ravages of war,
Famine only adds to the score.
The black horse arrives,
His name is... 'Survive'.
But 'Ash' has entered the scene,
The color of corpse, pale-green,
Their progression succinct,
Succumbing to animal instinct.
Fools have staked their claim,
And adorned themselves with shame,
"The Earth belongs to the ‘Best’!"
When the ‘Best’ are merely Guests!
Corrupted to have their own way,
Inferiors they oppress and dismay.
Devouring each other like prey,
Their body and soul He will slay.
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
Listen! Martyrs beseeching their Master,
"When will you avenge this disaster!"
"All must repent or perish,
There's more to be saved, to cherish.
When Messiah returns to avenge,
The Superiors on Earth will cringe,
And hide themselves from My face,
But I will expose their disgrace.
The Day of Our wrath will come,
My adversaries will all be undone!"
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
Listen! A Watchman’s urgent call,
"The Davidic Dynasty is All!"
"Do not cover their true condition,
To convey, not create, is the mission.
'Who influences who?', is the test,
Repentance and restoration are ‘Best’!
Judging His choices and actions,
Creates obstacles, infractions,
To live the way He intended,
And to have His blessing suspended.
Scripture is the sign to heed.
Our Substitute He decreed.
Grace through faith the plan.
He resurrected the God-Man.
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
It was in the year 2040,
in Vienna was where it all began,
folks were looking at the Lance on Longinus,
when they saw something they couldn’t understand,
on the spearhead was dried blood, from a man.
The faithful all proclaimed a miracle,
but science wanted to study this in full.
That, of course, caused lot son controversy,
some feared testing would destroy what they found,
and immigration had changed Europe,
local Islamists were soon coming around,
hating the implications of what was found,
they went to the museum, tried to burn it,
engulfed half of Vienna in a riot.
Given the conflict the discovery brought,
most realized it could not stay in this place,
after much debate a decision was made,
they would send it to the United States,
in hopes that there the lance would be more safe,
So science could find where the blood came from,
and disprove the rumors, which they thought were dumb.
So it was in Berkley, of all places,
that the ancient spear would find a new home,
there was all sorts of hub-bub when it arrived,
the media had a frenzy of their own,
the lab that got it soon became well known,
and Doctor Tom Wiseman soon got to work,
he doubted not the blood was of this Earth.
After six months of examination
they had isolated complete DNA,
and Tom was working very late one night
when to the janitor, Pete, he did say,
“It’s strange, the furor won’t go away.
We tell the believers it’s a normal stand,
but they do not care, still this it’s their 'God-man.'”
Pete just shrugged, said, “I suppose it makes sense,
it wasn’t DNA that made Jesus Lord.
it was supernatural, God’s presence,
the made the man so worshipped and adored,
a lot of people just seek something more.”
Tom just looked at him and said, “Petey, my friend,
I think you just helped me bring this to an end.”
He said later, at a meeting of trustees,
“I think we’ve an opportunity here,
a chance to prove Jesus was just a man,
free people from superstitions and fear.
We can finally make the truth quite clear.
I’ll make a clone with an artificial womb,
accelerate the growth, so we’ll have it soon.”
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Long before Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Greeks,
Before Hammurabi, Sargon and Ramses ruled
The world below their feet;
Before biblical scenes and mythological dreams
Of magical carpet rides,
I knew you back then
Where sea breezes begin
And history was a gleam in your eye...
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain,
They called you Ricotis as I recall
Earth Mother once called you by name.
Nestled on the Mediterranean Sea of monsters,
Pirates and explorers renowned,
You were not much more than desert floor
Until the conqueror came to town.
Alexander, Alexander, God-man, ruler-thought divine,
Sailed by your winds where the world begins
And knowledge was born and thrived.
In the halls of those palaces and places
He built from his own vision quest,
To rule a world of enlightened beings
Where all people could achieve their best.
Though he never quite saw your white marble walls,
With pillars of gold and blue;
Of the Serapeum filled with scholarly souls
Recording their own world view.
He never knew Pythagoras, philosopher, scientist extraordinaire;
Or the historians Philo and Josephus
And the volumes of memories they shared.
The early Christians, Church Fathers and Saints
Origen, Clement and Mark;
Alexander never knew what he finally did
When he gave you that worldly start.
You’ve seen the Pharos come and go,
Dynasties crumble and fall;
Romans and Greeks swept right off their feet
And Cleopatra’s castle walls.
Pagans, Jews and Christians too
All vying for your love;
As whispering winds of Freemason friends
Tell of Hermes below and above.
While Islam and Mohammed rule
In the shadow of the Sphinx,
Pyramids and temples filled with hieroglyphs
And obelisks that make you
Stop and think…
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain;
So little I’ve spoken about you today
Compared to all I’ve gained.
Since the first day I once met you
In that dream so way back when…
Alexandria, Alexandria, so glad we’re still
Good friends.
To my brave Sister who faced death and to my 2 Nieces;
Once more permit me Sis- for this will not be my last I can’t resist commenting on- whatever may have passed.
But must relate on that- Which I am about to unfold The story of a Marine soldier I know, Fifty Two years old.
However high we aim in life,- Too often we fail to hit.
We find the fairy tales told to us as youths-Were often full of ****.
In your success, in what you have gained,- Is more than I care to admit.
My sins as your brother and that of your mother- I pray you will acquit.
However, in my latter days- I’ll now devote with care.
To tell the story of a Marine soldier I know- Trained to avoid the latent snare.
Had God decreed her birth - On the morning she was born
With blond hair, blue eyes and beauteous features- Only an angel could adorn.
Later in life, She became a wife- When his eyes beheld her charms.
His growing sweet passions desire- sparked off like wildfire in a three bell alarm.
Two angels of her own did through their love they had produce.
Determined to protect them from any and all the world's abuse.
As the years advanced, to her little girls she had taught
What suited best their age, to that she had then brought.
While my sister Marine and daughters were still in their youth
Went about all their daily duties and focused on religious truth
In holy motives she led them, now ten years have passed away
The Lord is our Father, He is the potter -and we are but the clay.
She told them of the Father's Paradise and Heaven above
About a perfect God-Man named Jesus and His sacrificial love.
She told them the Peace of Christ makes fresh her heart
A fountain ever springing, -singing a new creation, a new start.
Stay strong my sister, I love you!
Abort me not
What's the thought was I was brought
Electrified turbulent sequences
Triggers action imaginative
Visionary dreams of scheme
Abort me not
A way of things I am bothered electrified a promise
Attilating spark a due process
Created by spiritual goodness or enraged by sin
I am co-created by God man and woman
Alas a human-baby
A manly seed penetrates an egg influence
Created today spiritual first then encased in a physical realm
An egg rolling inside my mother's womb
Not realizing that through sin I
I will be processed placed in the tomb in a metal or wooden box
Abort me not
To ride away my former frame my body sways
My bones shall disintegrate My flesh shall rot
I will be gone back to dirt to dust where I came
Lo! before that in the process comes alive
I am a seed an egg in my mother's pride
In her womb, my first room
I will grow mankind dictates whether I'm alive
Whether I'm a boy or a girl yet alive
God made me an embryo
Abort me not
A human being the spirit before I was flesh and now
I am a witness I crave life that I may have my chance
As my ancestors dance
For if you abort me you sin against God
Be not a defeatist
Do not destroy this fetus
You cut down His tree for I shall stand I shall grow
I shall inflame I will impale I will restrict you from tarnishing my name
I will grow out
I will not fear doubt
Abort me not
I was to surface not sink
I will swim I will drown
I will climb not fall
I will succeed and not fail
Nor will any one buy nor shall bought me
As I am for sale no I am not because I am more than just an embryo
For every Angels plan by choice in the physical realm
Is to be either walking on land to later die through sin
To be forgiven and Resurrection in heaven or to continue,
in sin unforgiven and to live eternity in hell
Abort me not
8/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Way, back me..
Git way back man
From now on there’s not gonna be no kissin, huggin or lovin, ya dig it;
Because we’re not juz your made up maids for U and ya filthy male friends;
Come on git with it now get it
Cleaning the halls;
Scrubbing the them there walls;
This ain’t the 1700 were just men make the laws;
As women we’re gonna rise
As women we’ve rose;
As women we’ve raised, our place in the country now proven;
It’s a new story, now cause we are, we are women on march to victory
When it does become time of night stop working girls;
And start again when it’s light (maybe girls)
If your man still ain’t treatin ya right, girls;
Pack up his clothes and tell ‘em git to stepN bro;
And start again when it’s light, start over when his mind is right;
We’re always working can’t even vote;
To the men it’s just, just to them a big joke;
But from now on what they SEE AIN’T WHAT THEY GET;
Better go fix their own plates;
Go to MickeyD’s cuz I ain’t cookN
Better hug a broom cuz I ain’t moveN
Now we women on march to victory;
Bear all MAN’s children;
God help me;
You fertilized a egg inside
My body has the pangs;
God should have allow man to give birth (just once) now see how it feels;
Come on git with it now get it
Cleaning the halls;
Scrubbing the them there walls;
This ain’t the 1700 were just men make the laws;
As women we’re gonna rise
As women we’ve rose;
As women we’ve risen, our place in the country now proven;
It’s a new story, now cause we are, we are women on march to victory;
Listen here men you ain’t all that great..
Cause it takes..
GOD, man and woman to create;
Not braggin but just stateN a fact man
We’re WOMEN ON MARCH TO VICTORY..
WOMEN ON MARCH TO VICTORY
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©1971, 2019
12/27/71
Creative writing class assignment
Oh, Don't Blame Me!
Oh, don't blame me, at times (if I miss better rhymes,)
When my thoughts are like Jell-O that doesn't congeal,
Must we fault 'rush to judgments,' when they're not ideal?
If my poetry fails you, are there far worse crimes?
(When I stoop to free verse at the top of my list!)
Still, I beg understanding, would honor my muse,
Though as readers, of course, you've the 'right' to refuse,
Please grant poems, all poets, the 'space' to exist!
For the truth is, eyewitnesses, see what they see,
And what one is quite sure of another may doubt
When dispersions get cast! Is fish Bass or a Trout?
But this simple conjecture can bring ecstasy
To boy fishing, cane pole, with a bobber and worm
On his hook in the wild! I don’t like my mistakes,
And won't make others wrong, more inclined to give breaks
To one not in my shoes (though sad poetry's germ)
I would still let it live, and by grace then evolve
(If it can) into 'Beauty' that's new on life's stage!
Evolution's the game; man has turned just one page
Of the book, we call ‘Life.’ Does the sun still revolve
‘Round the earth in your world? Do we dream what we feel,
Claim the ground that we stand on is real or persists?
For the 'truth' seems more often the 'truth' man resists!
Safe to doubt Satan's real, but does God man the wheel?
For a prophet to prophesy someone must hear,
A good listener's equally gift in this world.
Can best sex be determined by toes that get curled?
Might true love too, not always be one you hold dear?
A life lived on your feet is one purpose that serves
Both the strong and the weak, their home found where they dwell,
Life, whatever the weather, prepared for 'farewell!'
May all 'poetry' born earn the love it deserves.
Brian Johnston
May 1st of 2019