Long High and mighty Poems
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Words
Words, this life, knows no stronger force
These fragments with such ease we wield
Even love, they will steer off its course
And fell the high and mighty in the field
Unthinking we may use one by mistake
Throw out the smallest humble negative
Not realising how that one may grate
And find a heart unwilling to forgive
At times we twist them to our greatest gain
How simple is the art; Manipulate
With disregard for whom they may cause pain
With no concern for chaos they create
A means that has no other parallel
To take us to the plain of joy
Or plunge us into blackest hell
Unequalled is their power to destroy
We use them each, to communicate
To both confound and un-confuse
On their answers, we must ever wait
Whilst in reply, decide, which ones to choose
And on that throw of dice, win or lose
R D Seal 13 April 2013
If there is division and indecision in the Church, the Israel of God
It’s our low view of the Law of God?
Oh, many redefine what the law is
Or they say that Christ has done away with it
Is that what Christ said?
Do we not follow what God has said? Are we dead believers?
Can we come from our graves on our own to be receivers?
Some can say an epistle is straw
For believers the condemnation has gone away, not the law
If someone offered dead men, the elixir of life
And held it up and said come forward dead plight
How do we on our own come forward?
How do we who act froward?
Only dead men being called by God can perk their ears
Only dead men being summoned can hear
So, we hear with our ears, then we live it out in our hearts
Because our God is working in the inward parts
For someone to say that the law has passed away
Is to not understand the ever presence of The Life, The Truth and The Way
His fulfillment as a present tense
He comes to our defense
To say that some Old Testament Laws only apply to Israel
Is to have a low opinion of God and His vision visceral
There is always secondary application
God uses anthropomorphic demonstration
If God says something that should settle it
So don’t get high and mighty and meddle in it
But pray for the mettle to defend righteously
Giving a ready answer to those who ask hopelessly
The Church which is the Israel of God
The Church in the Wilderness connects us abroad
All who hear we need to come near and reason together
This is a command not a question of whether
Come now sands of the shore, the unlimited star count
Don’t fight and redefine God’s Law, because we will never surmount
So, is it ok to tell little white lies? Is it ok to be white lyin’?
Is it ok to associate perversion and that roaring lion
With those who are metaphysical scions?
No says The Lamb and The Lion, come to worship at Mount Zion
Make no doubt about it
from the top of the world
I'll shout it
baby I want you as my own
Some thing is making
me crazy
thought it wouldn't fade me
til I looked at the ring you have
back then thought I'd understand
Never thought you'd betray me
never thought this would say me
now here I am all alone
Better get myself together
Find away to nevermind the weather
keep myself from feeling all alone
When the doorbell rang I wandered
Glad I got the second chance for it
Got so tired of being alone
Lone wolves eat alone
when everybody's gone
but should it faze me
should it make me crazy
am I all I have
I know you'll laugh
when feel high and mighty
doing things to spite me
I'd rather spend my time
With you
that's what I wanna do
aint know doubt about it
think I'm in love with you
Convenience blooms like money,
So the high and mighty brags, but
A garden watered fresh, with
Honey bees sanctuary, and
Hands that's been there, done that
Souls once bruised, but
Cared for like rising stars,
Comfort comes in any color
No complication
No cunning,
Just simplicity of humming.
Each root in fertility of truth
Spring forth
Chasing frowns
Like compassion
Simmering frazzled heart beat;
Each palm of hands, a
Warm zephyr touch
Temples clean of turmoil, turn to
Feel the love from Source above
Priceless -
I've known such love
So for everyone,
Every living thing,
Love suffice.
Self absorbance is fckn funny
lemme ask you...
"When'd you get so special, hunny?"
THE USED
Everyones so high and mighty...
...i'm just high...
wondering where everyone
got these pedestals from
Hook it up bro----
Can I get one too?
I wanna think I'm better than everyone
just like you
Twisting my mind just
to understand you
probably the dumbest thing
i could possibly do
Unaccept the facts
Wish time would just turn back
Then i wouldnt give a fck bout you
I'd d have my roll dog by my side
he was the ONLY one that was the truth
He didn't wanna be the man,
he just was
First real friend..
actually BROTHER that loved me
Js because
Family from the min we met
Someone I knew I'd never be abe to forget
When I lost him I died a little inside
So thinking you'd actually be down
i feel like a fckng as*hle
hoping that you would still be around
That's the fckng truth
“Shikata ga nai” is a Japanese term meaning “It cannot be helped.”
Please journey with me as I attempt
to be a small change needed in this world.
It is so much easier to look the other way,
or hurl insults at the homeless standing on the median,
sign in hand, begging for change.
Compassion should be first and foremost, not feel strange,
doing our part as we stroll through the park,
picking up garbage along the trail, even in the dark.
Sitting in a restaurant beside a family of five,
the two oldest bickering back and forth, so alive—
be the change, and instead of muttering slyly,
mocking the parents as if they should have stayed home—smile shyly.
When did it become easier to feel high and mighty,
to sit on a throne, shake our finger, and act almighty,
to think we are better than another human?
That is so inhuman.
“Be our brother’s keeper” should be our calling, and we should be eager to show compassion, to offer a helping hand.
Even the eyes of a child understand this demand—
if we could only see each other through the eyes of a child,
everyone would matter, no one would be defiled.
Gossiping,
cheating,
hurting,
yelling,
seeding doubts,
being a louse—
are these the gifts we want to leave behind?
Be kind.
Let us plant Forget-Me-Nots
to honour those who fought and gave their best shot.
There’s so much we cannot control,
things that cannot be helped as a whole.
But selling our souls to the devil—
that brings the playing field to another level.
Let us strive for humanity,
let us pray for unity,
accept what we cannot change,
and be the change we want to see.
worse than a chipped teacup,
yolk hardens upon heated pavement.
who do you trust when it’s time to sup?
hit with a silver spoon, cracked and peeled.
embryonic tears leak from a chicken’s nest.
what happens when street poultry doesn’t yield?
Humpty Dumpty high
upon the gates of hell
hard-boiled, will he fry?
he leans back with his knighted white chest.
the choice city arrayed in rainbow promises.
lacking calcium and vitamin d, ascends to rest.
Humpty’s sweating the sun. streaks of regret
stain rounded armpits. Slick sill of wall - dire.
his craven and rubbery insides not well set.
wondering and worrying, if he falls, will
all the king's horses and men rescue him…
at his age he could succumb to a nasty spill.
“over-easy” didn’t sound so bad. He hears
whispers of the town, trying to understand.
he longs to meet Benedict and other peers.
feeling a bit cocky, eager to do the eggroll.
figures his tough shell will protect him from harm.
rather charming, and with a whitewashed soul,
forgetting to say the blessing, he slips and slides.
history remembers his silly sounding name.
did the horses and king’s men save his hide?
shellacked shell and runny guts
had to be swept and trashed —
king ordered - no ifs ands or “butts”
6/25/2018
Humpty Dumpty Contest
Too Many Rules
Wake up to all of the lies.
Always talking , here comes the fly’s.
Always struggling just to get by.
Work long hours, take back what is mine.
Too many regulations to follow.
All my enemies will be at my feet and below.
Camra’s watch everywhere you go.
No place to hide but run far away from you.
Too many people in power.
Push back until the crowd grows louder.
Westand tall for our freedom.
The government has always been the problem.
Throw away the corruption.
Raise your fist high cause the streets are burning.
This is our purge who’s against us.
The high and mighty will become dust.
This letter I wrote to my brothers.
In rage this is not over.
Wecannot live under dictatorship.
Light up the sky because we don’t give a .
Trample on our leaders who betray us.
Burn down their homes for there will be no forgiveness
Zuzuangel, dances the dazzling streets of Rio.
Her red hair, shines in the moonlight.
Attracting only the finest to her.
She wears studded gold sandals, those sexy feet,
cannot stop dancin to the Jobim, Bossa Nova Beat.
The outside cafes, the weather divine,
This is Zuzu’s time to be out and about, plus to
radiantly shine.
Her inner-soul, you see, has a rain-bowed, inviting
glow.
Wherein the river of her inner poetry does both rise
and flow.
That inner peace, is her fortress, where she truly
cannot be touched.
And any fool, who intimidates her-will be at once,
directly be rebuffed!
It does no good to intimidate, crush or
gang up on any poet’s soul.
The fate for any who so so?
When you harm any of God’s children,
in a monsoon of your own arrogance
you are eternally lost and tossed.
Your vanity, will kill you so high and mighty
you are.
Forgetting each poet is part of
God’s creative star!
11/18/2021
Pangie still in Trauma Center.
Learning to walk and stand.
Sorry, I am constantly around.
Commenting time is at
a minimimum..
I. e., this unfortunate
mere erred reflection,
aye re: zine
(pronounced Syne),
cuz you Matthew Scott Harris
act like an old curmudgeon,
does nothing but whine...
this one dimensional mere silver,
copper film and multi layered shine
of waterproof paint
on back surface doth deign
as merely superficial float glass fine
visualization cannot detach itself
(analogous to a Siamese
twin engine eared ensign)
sullying for all the
world wide web to see mine
capricious, facetious,
and inglorious rotten chine
(vis a vis via,
sexually seedy, Nein
dynamic, salaciously scabrous,
spicily shamelessly pine
ning sultry rhyme
(without reason) attempting
to wax eloquent as nonpareil poetry
by futilely try'n
to make a silk purse out of swine
(actually a sow's ear), meanwhile dine
'n high and mighty trump
petting haughtiness hoping to line
up ducks in a row at mine
(your poor reflection), hmm...wondering
mebbe I can latch unto a stein
way praying for some means
to become divine
very aware that
no mirrored reflection can exist
from a corporeal entity,
who cannot ever hurt or kill me,
but,...yeah go ahead,
and take a fist
also aware nothing can undo
that banal, carnal, and offal dreck,
which materiel could be ideal grist
for erotica such as Hustler,
and/or Penthouse, where prurient
Lady Chatterley's naked lunch evocations
conjured behind wordy myst.