Long Hell or high water Poems
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MOTHER GHANA
I was told about your retrospect, after that scene, I burst into tears. I learned they came to genuflect like angels and took away your possessions. They dehumanized your progeny like animals. They dragged them as if they wanted to tear. Your progeny toiled just for us to cheer. They (the visitors) hypocritically played the drum expecting your progeny to dance. Your progeny suffered for my emancipation especially when the visitors wanted their nod consolidated. Your bold progeny tried come hell or high water to get it emasculated, but the more they tried, the more it got devastated. They fed your progeny and told them to regurgitate. They forced them with the rod anytime they tried to hesitate. They (the visitors) searched the brave among your progeny and escorted them to the grave. Wherever the deceased are, I pray the creator keeps their souls. You suffered but the battle ended. We thank those who toiled their blood and passed through all holes. We live confidently because of their fight. I couldn't stand the sight when I watched pictographic scenes of the battle. We were discarded but have been found. Today is your day for you were freed this day. Although I am happy, I am sad and I hope you know why. You were freed long ago but as if we have reached an impasse, we can't go. Anytime I think about it, I have no option than to sigh. Your present progeny need to wake up and work relentlessly, for your name should climb higher than I can see. You deserve the world's priority for you suffered immensely. It is unequivocal that your womb is blessed. We see bloody things in your neighbor's houses but we live happily on your compound. Awake present progeny and make your mother proud. You have tried but looking at your mother's grief, it is very minimal............HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO ALL GHANIANS
Ladies and gentlemen, pardon my intrusion.
I won’t take long, I’m only here to Break the ice and test the waters.
Make you laugh a little Before this script starts feeling stale like Blood without water.
But it won’t be a laughing matter once I disappear from this endless illusion
Till this day I’m the physical embodiment of those who were forced to swim.
To escape the deep end and disappoint him who is known as Grim.
We’re forever fish out of water and products of our environments.
Our youthful hands did not create this hot water that we’re in.
The Bible says that they can try to Boil us from within,
And Bombard us with more lies to get us out of the holy water we’re in
But no amount of corruption can prevent Thy Excellence from winning.
The heat doesn’t cool down when you throw more cold water on it Sir!
Don’t forget that crocodiles and sharks don’t make a good mixture.
Excuse that vicious sort of violence portrayed by my voice and tone.
But what kind of chaos could create a world without guns, knives and phones?
How come families are nowhere to be seen when Blood is separated from water.
We’re all too flooded with fury to still coexist come hell or high water.
Follow the traces of the Blood Jesus to get us out of this mind-controlling mist.
Follow the trail that connects us all as tightly together as a clenched fist.
People of all colors, we can't keep acting as if hope is dead in the water.
Let us take to justice and honor like a duck to the water.
Real scum is anyone who gives us reasons to hide our daughters.
Real heroes are the ones, who use the water underneath that Bridge,
That remains Broken 'cause humanity was out of it's depth.
Now we are freed from death and the eternal carnage is finally over.
***
-------------------------------------
Wondering memories of wild adolescence,
Flash before me like a mental Rolodex
Reverberating daze,
Time cannot take away.
A fifteen–year–old,
Broken neck calypso.
Gazing through the jungle-o window
Unequipped to fathom what was about to happen.
I saw the moon in your eyes,
And knew;
You smile in the way that islands do,
And the zephyrs planned to bring your love back to me, too.
You were everything I imagined.
Sunlight on a dismal day,
The lone palm in the tropic heat,
A boyish grin that made my flowers bloom;
You were the Cabin Boy.
Realizing, all you can be at 23
is yourself.
And I am the wanderer's wandering daughter.
The pretty little minor that comes hell or high water,
You broke California law for.
I waited at your f i n g e r
t
i
p
s
Just his little Pisces jailbait.
Who didn't exist till 1996.
An inevitable source of panic that would rise in his eyes
Every time he kissed,
Her Kona lips.
Until deciding he had to leave,
Claiming island fever, on his way out the back door.
Lost as a half-gone waning moon.
With only the ocean’s waves continuous roar
Sunburnt, white foam, salt spray,
Condemned - to an inevitable end
Unable to prevail past the break at your soul's cliff edge.
I grab a raft to float;
In the deep waters of the heart.
Somewhere in between the no -
longer & the still -
to-come
Washed upon my soul’s sand.
Reaching out with new green shoots -
Resurrecting the chthonic biome
From deep within the molten core
Till the blocky incline fell away,
And I found myself;
On the surface of a lake of solidified lava.
They say 'you've got it kid',
but first you gotta rid
yourself of all that fakery,
the constructed rhyme
like rye and flour primed
to exit out the bakery,
and you cannot, should not
loaf, or doubt anything
you ever wrote, it's progress-
but what path to take?
Should I break apart,
the seeming apparition
of life and love that is gained
and lost in boxcars moving
across the prairies in
spiritual unison-
What is to be done
with this poet who I found
hiding under a flithy sheepskin?
And what of our Sanfrancisco flower
blooming in scattered graveyards
where the pounding Beat has died,
and decomposed decisively
around small parts of the world,
inside the mutant hearts
of shivering canadian poets
who continue crave the corpse.
Another voice would say:
The hell with all these rat bastards!
True art is what you stick with,
hell or high water, so you can take criticism
and flush it down the toilet, like
the American Dream. You are your own God,
because that son of a ***** left
for good during The War,
Thus,
Thy choice in art is feuled by love,
and love be feuled by truth,
so open up thy lonely eyes,
and see in thee the proof.
There are so many voices,
and each constrain my words
to a vision of past greatness,
and new poetry, shall be
a combination, an alchemy
of fire and ice, foreign
and domestic, the self
humming in unison
with the universe,
vibrating time and space,
in pure emotion,
organized choas,
contained and made conscious,
experienced, and purged
from the self
in verse.
Form:
Defined By Idioms
Naked truth, bent nails
dead men tell no tales
bad Apple, broken mirrors
burnt out light bulbs, crocodile tears
spilt milk, goose chase
two cents worth, rat race
rotten egg, bad to the bone
eagle eye, no place like home.
bat from hell,
pulled punch
big cheese,
no free lunch
can of worms, bleeding heart
knock on wood,
till death do us part
bite the bullet, checkered past
good as gold,
last laugh
burning bridges,
ball of wax
hold your horses start from scratch
wooden nickels ace up your sleeve
hair of the dog
all Greek to me
axe to grind
behind the eight ball
bigger they are
the harder they fall
jack of all trades cat's got your tongue
fair weathered friend
like father like son
small world
on thin ice
speak of the Devil roll of the dice
blood's thicker than water
lie like a rug
dime a dozen
when push comes to shove
dog eared pages
eye for an eye
bury the hatchet how time flies clean as a whistle C
chew the fat
crime doesn't pay. cover my ass
throw me under the bus gentle as a lamb
cold shoulder
hit the fan
buyer beware
woman's work never done
never say never
takes one to know one
come Hell or high water
pissing in the wind
pretty as a picture through thick and thin
beat a dead horse pass the buck
whole nine yards down on my luck
life’s a
don't rock boat
needless to say
go for broke
My life is the sum of trite cliches
Jaded expressions
so worthless so worn
I couldn't give it away
2006 Fifa World Cup, ah jump and celebrate Trinidad in it
But yuh know de saying, after joy is sorrow sh…..t
Yeah boy, all skin teeth eh laugh
Trinidadians like too much bacchanal
Band yuh belly or just eat a food nah
Behind back is dog’, before face is Mr. Dog ha!
Geographically behind God back is Switzerland
Shush! Bush have ears, corruption in Fifa and other far away land
Well there is something brewing, something cooking up
Come hell or high water America aim for control, headquarters swoop
Yuh hear comess
Corbeau doh eat sponge cake or wear dress
Ey, cut eye doh kill
Dis corruption thing is ah skill
De mark buss
De gloves are off who come fuss
Boy beat the Iron while it hot
Yuh ‘WARNER’ retire to be free ah what
Well de mango doh fall far from the tree nah
Yuh either a Havelange, a Blatter or ah ice Glazer
Doh drink tea too sweet for nobody fever
Doh cut off yuh nose tuh spoil yuh face forever
Fifa put de cart before the horse
Scandal and corruption investigation enforced
Empty vessels make de most noise
Whether partnership or independent every bread have he cheese
Remember goat doh make sheep
So whichever leader ent going to care
He/she doh eat nice de say causing fear
I dey with dem jus come attitude about de same old stuff
Doh like tuh wok and jus loll off
I am just a simple storyteller
Political LEXOPHILIA
©Copyright June 9, 2015 by Brian PierreNasia Alexander
If I knew then what I know now
My marriage would be bliss.
What I’m about to say you won’t
Want to miss. Marriage is for life,
Till death each will part, through
Sickness health, and adversities,
Think twice before you make a start.
Marriage is sacred and binding
It is God’s plan from the start.
No longer me nor I, we both share
The pie. Ordained by the father the
Almighty on high.
We are unique, a work of art, yet not perfect
Just a work in progress. Follow it through
And in the process, taste victories stand the test.
Don’t throw in the towel, when things don’t
Seem right, stand up to the challenge and don’t
Give up the fight.
Show love and affection, communicate
Just to name a few. Once part of my experience
And the essentials I failed to do. Tell her that
You love her, even if said a hundred times before,
Stop the enemy in his tracks, don’t leave an open door.
Teeth and tongue will bite an old phrase and
So very true. Again I’m not perfect I don’t
Know about you? Now it’s paramount that my
Marriage, last come hell or high water,
I’m in for the journey, the long haul, no
Time to falter.
Please note: I do believe there are great marriages
And individuals who are very happily married, but
Let’s face reality; sadly some do not always blossom
for whatever reasons. My poetry are based on my life
experiences, and not geared at any one.
Form:
Now they say that girls are made of sugar
And spice, but good girls finish last my friend.
For there is one truth for all women kind,
Come hell or high water we will fight
For our right to indulge ourselves in
The need for perfections greatest
Confections, COOKIES!!!
Yes we will take down that cookie
Puppet clown, dressed in blue,
For there is no fiercer monster known
To man, then a women who’s cookie
Faddish is left unsatisfied.
Peanut butter to chocolate chip,
Just pass the milk and watch out dude,
For women shall be the first to dip.
Call us the two fisted women of the
Raw dough generation, we don’t
Really care, just pass grandma’s old
Cookie jar.
Roll me down the bakery sweet,
No fragrance smells finer then freshly
Baked what ladies, COOKIES.
Sugar me sweet it’s the ladies favorite
Treat, by the bucket or truck load it can’t
Be beat, frosted or plain, it matters not,
But without Milk its sacrilege that is
No doubt!!
Now chocolate maybe the vise five to
Seven days a month, but cookies rule
As the male race drools, because honey
There is no doubt women will take you
Don’t for what, lets all say it ladies around
The world, all together now, SAY WHAT
COOKIES!!!!!!
By the way did I tell you my favorite
Food in the world, of course it’s very
Obvious, COOKIES!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO POET DESTROYER
And to all women
Once upon a time, my life was on track
Moving onward, achieving all my goals
Revered by my peers, their pats on my back
They praised my advice and said it was gold
Its was nice that they cared enough to call me
They would say "Mitch, I'm glad you changed that"
I'd reply "anything for the company"
Followed by dreaded small talk and chit chat
Then the day my mom called, my world just caved
My brother was sick, in the intensive care
San Diego was three thousand miles away
Hell or high water, I was going to get there
I quit my job just before a promotion
The CEO offered me a big raise
I declined and his eyes filled with emotion
He knew my brother was in his last days
When I arrived he could barely see
His doctor said AIDS in the last stage
Talked about girls and Yosemite
He wanted out of his room, his cage
I wheel chaired him on out to the parking lot
To see my new truck and so he could smoke
He quoted a scripture I never forgot
His blind eyes pure gray as he took a toke
It was about the Mount Zion in our home town
He had found God, which explained his calm
I said "that is great" as his smoke hit the ground
He started my journey, I found it in Psalms
By the rivers of Babylon
where we sat down
yea, we wept,
when we remembered Zion
Susta please !
whether you be video vixen, educated Mrs., domestic goddess
or around the way girl my mind is your world
and i'm still feeling you,
when I envision your dimensions
i can't neglect the urge to submerge in your wet intellect
beautiful queen i mean you no disrespect but i haven't
a clue how to approach you and i only want to come correct,
give me insight , enlighten me, open my eyes and show me the new peaks
and horizons i long to see because
I'm still feeling you
I offer you my full submission as i stand at attention
awaiting asscension, give me the key, teach me what it is you need
show me where i need to be and how to get you there with me because
i'm still feeling you
what is it that i can say that may buy me an hour or two of your time
not to get into your head but to let you into mine because
i'm still feeling you
i could blaze for days about how i'm feeling you, I'm feeling you
like a fat girl filling spandex, like extra money on my paychecks,
i'm feeling you like a mental ****** during foreplay right before
all day sex just tell me what to do to get you to feel me the way i'm
feeling you because
come sunshine or rain, hell or high water
beautiful queen with all of my being
I'm still feeling you!