Long Handing out Poems
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The North Pole was bustling with excitement, skating with zeal.
Santa Claus was handing out badges, medals and such to the elves.
Rudolph came over to me, his nose out of joint, actually it had turned teal.
They are so smug, and puffed up and enormously proud of themselves.
I said “you are wearing fine baubles, my festive, decorated friend.
And a candy cane wreath, complete with cranberries so merry!"
The reindeer gave me a quick shake of bells and said he would lend
To me his secret book of Christmas carols written by his cousin Harry.
A snowman named Godly heard us and said with attitude,
If you hurry, you can both get in on the workshop’s Christmas sing.
So we took off, Rudolph and I, traveling the highest latitude,
And reached Santa in time to give our rendition of Silver Bells ring.
They come to our door dressed as witches…as princesses…
as wizards, as ghosts and goblins too…
As pirates, as cowgirls, as ladybugs…
as warriors who know karate or kung-fu.
“Trick-or-treat!” They say…
as through the night their numbers increase.
They look into our bowl of candy and ask,
“Please, may I have a piece?”
We gladly hand a piece to every baby
every child…every teen…
and when they say, “Thank you!”
we all smile and say, “Happy Halloween!”
For one night the troubles we face in this world are forgotten…
because with every girl and boy…
under the costume…behind the masks
we see the innocent faces of peace and love and joy.
At the end of the evening we gaze into our bowl
that through the night by the children has been picked clean….
And I always wish handing out peace in the world
was as easy as handing out a piece of candy on Halloween.
I also make a second wish
once and all the monsters, ghosts and goblins have been fed:
I wish that while filling their bags with another piece of candy
we could assure them of a life filled with peace ahead.
V.
It used to be understood that
people were pretty safe,
that our streets and our neighborhoods
weren’t a dangerous place,
that you could let your kids go out
and they’d come back alive,
that we had good law enforcement,
security to thrive.
But now they coddle criminals,
help them get out early,
our cities have become failed states
of crime, drugs, and feces.
Worse yet is they’re importing them,
illegals in cruel gangs,
handing out money to the thugs
who probably should hang.
It seems a week doesn’t go by
we don’t see migrant crime,
people murdered and women raped,
it happens all the time.
Whole apartments taken over,
the tenants extorted,
by people your leaders let in
so they could get ahead,
all of it just to rig the vote
so they alone can win,
no problem with condemning you
to a future quite grim.
Your life has no meaning to them,
they’ll gladly leave you screwed,
see the evil and don’t forget
what was taken from you.
A stroll down the street of gold
in a garden city rich with roses,
I saw poppies and lilies on a drill,
smiling like a bevy of beauties,
facing the sky. Soft gentle breeze
caressed wings of bees buzzing on top
the bloom: scent and sound waltzed
while honey dropped on lush lawns
as on black and white keys. Music
welled up, flavored with virgin
love in rhythmic flow. A rolling
expanse of orchards yawned; trailing
vines laden with clusters.
Red fluid dripped & rippled, buoying
to the shore of a vat, vast as sky.
I looked up: no sun, moon, or winking
eyes in the bald blue. No clouds
nudged up from sleep; no sparrows
searching for a summer perch.
Reeds bowed, spelled by the soft wind
from four ends. A white dove hovered,
alighting with a twig of red rose.
Eyes stole around, cupped whisper:
prize-giving time’s in session. Music
was fluid—serenade of a life in love.
Bright as crystal, the river streamed
on both sides of streets. Fruit trees
sprouted; fresh leaves budded and shot
out, bore fruits shaped like a heart.
Animals and humans fed on them;
I stood straight, looked straight,
turning like a turning wheel. The air
smells good, my breath, too, I mused.
We queued up, decked in pomp: silky
white, linen red, and gorgeous purple. Eyes on the golden crown, on the end
of a race—’rough and tough.
I looked as the scene rolled aside
for rows of mansions painted white
and red and purple. A man stood in front, clothed in white, in purple,
in red, handing out sparkling keys.
Mine! Mine! I held mine—pretty gold.
© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi
Ukraine has got chemical weapons, the Russians claim
That are being used against their soldiers to kill and maim
And those apartments you see blown to smithereens
Are only illusions that we see, on our TV screens.
Russia claims actors are used and are pretending to be dead
Evil Putin is using propaganda to get inside your head
Russia called a ceasefire so that non combatants could flee
Then his army opened fire on them, how ruthless can they be
Those images you see of the old and infirm, trying to get away
Are just old folks enjoying the sunshine out for the day
With their worldy possessions in a supermarket bag
Doesn't make any difference that they're waving a white flag.
And those generous Russian soldiers handing out food
Is just lies and propaganda they're trying to delude
A false flag is another ploy that the Russians use
To distort and hide the truth then carry out abuse.
A Russian jet has now carried out a devious strategy
Firing at a small town in Belarus called Kopani
This is the perfect excuse, that Belarus has been looking for
They'll blame the Ukrainian airforce and enter the war.
The besieged Ukrainian cities, need food and medical aid
But supplies are stuck in Poland, is the west really afraid?
Nobody likes violent war but sometimes it's the only way
And those carrying out atrocities. must be made to pay.
Written on 11th March 2022
No matter how silly you think it is
Tell us your favourite dream
There's nothing that can surprise us
Heard lots of tales and schemes!
How about one where you're flying
Surveying the country below
Maybe you're ruler of a distant land
With a magic wand that glows!
Or what if you could be the captain
Of a great ocean going liner
A clown in a colourful marching parade
Could there be anything finer?
Bet you haven't thought of this one
A drummer in a rock 'n roll band
Or how about a pitcher for the Yankees
A lifeguard all muscled and tanned!
Have you ever wished you were Santa
Handing out Christmas prizes
Or an opera singer like Pavarotti
A super hero with many disguises!
I guess all of this just goes to prove
No matter how hard you scheme
It's best to be just the person you are
After all, dreams are only dreams!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Little known holidays occurring on February fifteenth...,
awaiting commercial sponsors to become...
what else...,but hand over fist money makers?
(http://www.holidays-and-
observances.com/february-15.html)
Excess Valentine's surplus sweet treats
and assorted paraphernalia
need not go to waste
said sappy accouterments
can be repurposed
quickly without haste
less pronounced celebrated fetes faced
overwhelming stiff as an arrow baste
in love potion, understandable
no satiny frills laced,
or some other eye catching
emoji, persona, symbol...
awaits deft ploy of marksman/
woman to lift from obscurity,
whose ontological, mythological,
historical...basis replaced
essence mined to the Maximus,
and references to FACTS erased
with brilliance craftily distilling
entrepreneurial finesse aced
to broker psychological seduction,
(albeit subtle) synchronicity braced,
sans free market capitalism crux
linkedin at optimal nexus enterprize prefaced
with salient mania to generate profit raced
to the forefront of popular media
adulterated and of course embraced
by president of United States with
many commercial donning merchandise,
quoting P. T. Barnum,
there's a sucker chased
and born every minute, and
trumpeting how to make
a stack of money
(held together by
toothpicks and paste)
tall as the Taj Mahal,
which occasion aced
with fanfare including
handing out signed "FAKE"
copies of 'The Art Of
The Deal' amazingly graced
on podium along with
candies, gewgaws, tsatskes...
toting, praising, lauding...merits of:
Angelman Syndrome Day
Annoy Squidward Day
(Sponge Bob Square Pants)
International Angelman Day
International Childhood Cancer Awareness Day
Lupercalia
National Caregivers Day -
February 15, 2019
(Third Friday in February)
National Gumdrop Day
National Hippo Day
Nirvana Day – (Buddhist)
Remember the Maine Day
Susan B. Anthony Day
World Information Architecture Day -
February 15, 2019
(Third Friday in February).
The End of Tomorrow
When you sit alone in your room, enjoying your solitude and someone tells you, this is the time of your life, the trivial will say you can sleep til ten, in the morning if you want to and you think, why not forever
You know there is no afterlife, you knew that when nine years old Santa Claus, was the woman next door
in drag, handing out gifts, paid for by your mother.
When the doorbell chimes and a Christian sadist makes it clear you must believe in Jesus because you are old and can die, any moment now.
When you listen to the soft breaths of the one you love
and hope you will die first because you can't handle
the practical side of life.
Then there is the notion there are two of you, if one dies the soul takes abode somewhere else, in a beautiful garden perhaps, and waits to be a soul for someone else.
Think if you had a choice, to be the soul of a donkey in Sudan for all time, carrying the meager belongings of someone fleeing the endless wars.
The conclusion must be if you are still of sound mind
death has some merits after all.
They say we need their help.
They come in their numbers
preaching salvation,
while their own people sell their souls,
for the hope to keep living.
They offer hugs we receive with arms wide open,
and their fingers, long enough, pick from our pockets.
They take our people and our land
and are angered when we fight back.
They create the beginnings of our problems,
planting disaccord and distrust among us
as if they were seeds.
They stab us in the back
and put pressure on the wound
as if they were being helpful.
Now they come to my country,
taking pictures of the unfortunate
and handing out sweets we did not ask for.
And they bring along laws that speak of a peace,
we once knew in their absence.
No matter how silly you think it is
Tell us your favourite dream
There's nothing that can surprise us
Heard lots of tales and schemes!
How about one where you're flying
Surveying the country below
Maybe you're ruler of a distant land
With a magic wand that glows!
Or what if you could be the captain
Of a great ocean going liner
A clown in a colourful marching parade
Could there be anything finer?
Bet you haven't thought of this one
A drummer in a rock 'n roll band
Or how about a pitcher for the Yankees
A lifeguard all muscled and tanned!
Have you ever wished you were Santa
Handing out Christmas prizes
Or an opera singer like Pavarotti
A super hero with many disguises!
I guess all of this just goes to prove
No matter how hard you scheme
It's best to be just the person you are
After all, dreams are only dreams!