Long History repeats itself Poems
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“History repeats itself” maxim left on the shelf
No need for stealth just heft of greed for wealth
No mystery the majority indeed bereft in ill health
Impropriety & notoriety prism creates a schism
Entirety debunked by a flunked junk catechism
Society sobriety shrunk by punch drunk fascism
Train wreck of tech titans us brassic just terrorism
Insane vortex vexes our cortexes classic botulism
Tyrannosaurus rex in vain Jurassic park tourism
Anxiety rapacious due to mendacious barbarism
Fiefdoms harbinger of doom & noxious nepotism
Not a hunch us all sunk crunch time for exorcism
Evangelist narcissist mist does persist the gist
Not a balm or spreading alms just a call to arms
In true fashion religion does ration compassion
America in flux the crux once more is Klu Klux
Ice trucks of vice blunder shoot lame ducks
Plunder and cast asunder all about the bucks
Prioritise unity of community blunts vicious stunts
Demonise pernicious lies and their power blunts
Criticise avaricious demise that liberalism shunts
Scores of grunts from EU being treated like runts
Learn fast the answers are in the past Europe hunts
History bores are right don’t fight wars on 2 fronts
(A Carnival Barker)
There’s no shame in my game,
I write to entertain
This is from my upcoming book
that has no name.
Poetry that entertains.
I am the halftime show
always ready to go...
A delightful distraction,
sharing that verbal interaction.
I’m a good time on two feet
An Army of one.
And a legend in progress...
As history repeats itself,
and criminal’s return
to the scene of the crime.
I like reciting my poetry
before an audience
each and every time.
My name is Bobby K,
and I am
The Poor Man’s Poet.
Another wizard of the word
that live in Williamsburg.
I appear before you
like an apparition on a mission.
Reaching deep
within your intellect,
bringing forth knowledge
in the form of old
forgotten memories,
that become epiphanies.
Making you aware,
that you now know
what you didn't know
a moment ago.
Here tonight, right now
in this room,
I am a little man
among poetic giants.
A veritable light weight
in the power of the word.
But as I'm relatively new
in the history of poetry.
You'll have to forgive me
as I find myself at fault,
for being wise
within my ignorance...
My name is Bobby K,
and I am The Poor Man's Poet.
The pen points down at this point and period
Then it points to the Egyptians
Who used the stars to pinpoint the pyramids
They penned the Book of The Dead in their own language
They did everything backwards because it means the Book of Life in the English translation
They built hospitals for the dead
So we build hospitals for the sick now
The Chinese made paper, this is the tipping point,
Because of them my pen is joined to their hip now
These two twins the parchment and the Prophet
They are the editors of God's Word
Which points the way for the Gospels written by the Apostles
At this point and period the topic points to the highlight
The history of our Country is underlined
The Declaration of Independence on it John Hancock penned the signature of a giant
History has been recorded by pens to point men
But history repeats itself and now its all pointless
And at this point depending on which way North is pointed
The polls shifted, now water runs uphill
A stroke of good fortune, I've come to the point of poets
They ink the finger of God
And by God's finger we have the Ten Commandments
And the paper the speaker prepares his speech
His pen is the instrument that captivates his audience
The pen breaks
Out shoots the ballpoint
With my mind I have pointed to many points and periods.....
With bloody hands, rusty hair and a dammed soul
I walked out ,stepping on the rotten meat
As my lungs struggled to breathe down the fragrance of the crime that I had committed
Blue and white lights flashed my eyes
And a bullet pierced through my cranium
Punishing me for the crimes I had not committed,
My lips have spoken no lies, though my heart is a liar
This land, these stars ,they are my witnesses
My scars give my testimony
I do not claim to be nor am I innocent
But if I am guilty ,I am of my humanity, which for you is an atrocity
I do not care of your judgment, only for nature’s impending monstrosity
They say history repeats itself
It surely dies, when you crown malevolent beast as saviours of humanity….
The puppet masters plot and weave, when first they practice to deceive
From Bush to Bush the fire spreads, a wildfire born from the Great Beasts bed
Intent, creates a new Zeitgeist to spawn a child, an anti-Christ
The seed’s been sown in Satans name the purpose clear, to God defame
No deeds revealed in tabloid papers Kept hidden their iniquitous capers
They mock our angst with rabid glee and crown it, a conspiracy
A sick exposure of the fact, success repeats the Patriot Act
Cruel fate awaits a Christian race the journey’s set at the Devils pace
From Hitlers hands their fortunes fed, a Rotten Apple, spiders threads
A Presidency on the cards their chorus rings from Satans bards
Twin Towers fall to Evils gain, Nostradame marks an old quatrain
Noahide Laws infused in society, Bush’s claim to the Devils piety
The terror laid at Americas shore, Homeland Security at its core
Involve our sons in fore-planned wars fuel Bankers interests near and far
To reign with iniquitous intent, the rule of money, purity bent
A system born to grease the palms, of those who seek the Devils alms
Indigenous inequality, why share what they can take
The Devils hands laid idle, write the rules for them to make
They form their words in whispers, they speak with a forked tongue
The parchment fresh, the quill’s been bled, the trap it has been sprung
Your liberty’s been stolen, a subtly sanctioned sin
There is no war on terror, the terror lies within
No longer called a prisoner, Genevas cause is lost to law
Detainees they’ll term us to be a welcomed lawyers flaw
Witnessed by a vanquished people, an American constitution
Set forth in pious reverence, genocide its resolution
Rockefeller spilt the beans a farcical invention
RFID for you and me their ultimate intention
Not for the good of those concerned,
Though pay you will, you’re chaff to burn
A single cause a twisted communion
Creates a North American Union
Though history repeats itself, its Trump card clearly dealt
The final thrust, centurions spear exposed, our innards felt
A thunderous cloud, the storms approach, the hurricane it howls
Gods hand outstretched, His children freed, as Satan sadly scowls!
Can you hear the drum beats of fear as do I?
Does the mere sound of those fears make you want to CRY?
You don't want to believe it, and hope it's all a 'Big LIE'.
Whether true or false, it's best to bid our fears GOODBYE.
Some say that the 'best is yet to come', and others SAY
that the good old days are gone and never will return.
Some say that the 'worst is yet to come', and others say
that the good old days are gone, but better days are yet to come.
Yesterday is HISTORY, but today does not have to be a MYSTERY.
You did not pour the glass; whether half empty or half full.
Even when dealt cards we don't CONTROL, we still must be BOLD.
Even when we are often TOLD that the entire deck has been RIGGED;
Or that the troubled waters that we see below have no BRIDGE above.
Much depends on our belief system, whether the future is MISERY.
If history repeats itself, perhaps it's because humans won't CHANGE.
If history repeats, perhaps we thirst for control and ill-gotten GAIN.
It is said that to REPEAT things, hoping for change, defines INSANITY.
On a cross were two criminals. One criminal said, "If you BE....". The other one said, "..., Remember ME". *
080122PS*Luke 23:39, 42
Discrimination
Knowledge is power, know your history,
Study his story or her story.
Whichever you favour, to choose your reaction,
For illumination, learn about the history of your nation.
For history repeats itself,
So make a change, to help yourself.
Learn what made you, the person you are.
Know your roots, before planting your seed,
Don't let your mistakes, line your history.
Affirmative action will set you free, to ignore the bigotry.
The Afro-American struggle, has similarities with your own;
Surely you too, have been persecuted by someone.
Sure maybe on a different scale,
But still persecuted, like the feminist females.
Still, treated differently
Because of their thoughts of you.
Their opinion of how you look,
Or what they see you do.
Surely they've closed the door to you too?
And sent you away,
Before hearing your words?
Simply because of the way,
You are perceived to be.
It may have even lead you,
To question the person they see.
They judge you with their power,
Without even knowing you;
But even Einstein looked stupid,
With his mad scientist hairdo.
So follow what you believe, you can really do,
Don't quit because they say,
You can't do the things you wish to.
Prove them wrong, prove yourself right.
Never let them overcome your struggle,
Because nothing good comes easy,
There is always a price.
So is it worth the fight?
The hardest fight you'll have
Is with the demons inside you,
But when you've conquered your inner demons,
Nothing in this world will be able to stop you.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Make no mistake, in spite of 2020's terror, God's Mercy is being served on planet earth.*
Every morning, day after day, year after year, God's magnanimous mercies are endless.
Righteousness exalts nations, and its departure automatically engenders humiliation.
Rebellion is in the heart of man, and redemption lies at the core of the heart of God.
Yesterday, The Savior's birth; today, He lives; tomorrow, King of Kings-Lord of Lords returns.
Countries, emperors, kings, queens, presidents, premiers, dictators, Caesars, or czars.
History repeats itself because rulers seem unable to do things differently; God's way.
Reasons and rhymes, crimes and times keep turning like the globe of the world.
I do not anticipate nor expect lasting peace until the coming of The Prince Of Peace.
So it is written, so shall it be done; every knee shall bow to The Virgin born Christ Child.
The fulness of time is rapidly approaching, and neither your vote nor mine will stop it.
Mortal men, the whole breed of Adam's seed, have constantly fought against God.
And we are getting closer to the end than we ever realized, when Christ will rule.
Saints and sinners, popes and potentates, elects and elites; all will submit to Christ.
112320PS
*I pray that we will let nothing, absolutely nothing, take 'The Merry' out of our '2020 Christmas'
We have broken sides that need to be tamed back to life,
If depression takes over we shall never see the greener side, B roken are the parts we have,
Missing are the parts we desire but cannot have for our minds wonder to far and cannot come back,
Headaches are now a norm of the times,
The pastors would sing praise that a beautiful day has come, But somewhere out there a man smiles for the day to lie down has come,
So he hangs himself and dies, with passing time his existence is forgotten, and so history repeats itself like its a holy calling,
But like I said, we have broken sides that need to be tamed back to life or else we will all be gone before our time comes. Silverpearl.
Shouts of triumph and defeat echo from the fields
day in and day out.
Drivers continue learning in that same cracked parking lot,
living proof that history repeats itself;
different shaking 16-year-olds,
same bumped curbs and too-hasty turns.
And Youth floats on,
floats on by.
The sun sets another day,
and the world is casted in the most vibrant oranges and purples
from the Matron’s final brushstrokes.
The Crone assumes control now.
With a wave of her gnarled hand,
leaves skitter across snow-dusted earth
against a background of gray and dying light.
And I drive slowly,
soaking in sights I’ve dismissed a thousand times over.
I’m guided by memories of times once passed
overlayed across my sight,
and through them I view the old roads I used to speed down
with little regard for life and its gifts.
The asphalt I know is further worn,
further whitened by Winter’s reverent graze.
I am not who I was when I last traversed Stanhope Road.
I am older,
wiser,
my eyes no longer veiled.
Fall has passed me to his successor.
I can only hope Winter will receive me with a feather-light touch
and shape me as gently,
for its bitingly cruel reality knows no bounds.
Blood always contrasts harshest with the snow.