Long Hopefuls Poems
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When this day fell 12 months ago,
I remember swearing on a new blessed oath.
I couldn’t bear the thought of another year alone, another year of solitude where I’m scared of my phone.
I dreamt of my hand being held through the cold
or the mornings by the fire, where warmth never gets old.
I could picture a calendar with a thousand scribbled plans,
I could hear the bustle of the bar and its band.
When the night would end, I’d feel the squeeze of a hand,
as we ventured on home, to our safe promised land.
Then the morning would come, with everyone around
we’d gather by the green, humming dulcet sounds
inspired by the radio, that’s on far too loud.
The paper in our hands would not be a fraction
of our comfort, of our satisfaction.
Because we knew we were there, in this moment we’d share and just like the others, we’d bless every flair.
But now I’m awake, so harsh and so heavy
the months have flown by and it’s Christmas already
I watch all the hopefuls and how they bless this season
yet part of me feels like I don’t have a reason
to feel quite so merry, when my bed sits so empty.
I can’t think of a time where I’ve been let down gently.
I know what will happen this time around,
this is what happens every year, I’ve found.
I’ll sit as one island, I’ll clasp my glass close.
I’ll swallow those memories, brought to me by the ghost
and then the next day when it’s come to an end,
I’ll swear on that oath, again and again.
Sadness
turns into madness
people explode in
Movie Theaters;
People explode on roads;
People have road rage
on this road called life."
Say it soft shhh hush
CAN you say
"Zoloft "
Resentments
In churches, where
black-folk congregate.
Under the protection of the
Lord.
Were killed in his presence
by programmed youth under
mind control; Parishioners,
Praying baptist,
killed by terrorist.
Can you say
"Prozac"
People
Agitated
in altered states
don't know what to think
no pure water to drink.
Foods that confuse
instead of regulate.
Can you say
"Chlorine / fluoride"
Hate
backfiring like an old shotgun
toxic people making promises
to toxic hopefuls; Who gets sadder
and madder as they realize…
That in America;
They eat bad foods and...
Their lives Also "do not matter”
CAN you say ( Mon Saint O's )
or "GMO'S"
Help
Can you say...
"Follow the wealth ".
can you say
"Pharmaceutical"
over "medicinal"
can you say "Americans
are a victim of "Stealth"
Stolen minds and bad health.
Can you say
Exodus...?
Inspired by the Bridal painting of the Empress Elisabeth of the 19th century Austro-Hungarian Empire -
Elegance, strength as elegance,
elegance of spirit personified as if this extraordinary elegance
was born to be, beyond the devestation of mortals,
so far outside the boundries of the base & banal ravishings
prevelant within peoples' passions and purposes,
escaping expectations of equality,
graciousness was alive within her
like a landscape loved & leavened by a monogamous moonlight,
ebony overcome by the invigoration of ivory,
realising that genuine grace is a monument
of courage confronting chaos, crystallised composure,
she being a template and temple for hopefuls,
in all my experience I have witnessed no woman more ready for power,
more savoring for sacrafice, more able to abate avarice & acrimony,
Elisabeth, the emerald of an Empire,
Mother to minions, mistress of the misery & magnificence of the multitudes,
Master of the stout & savant,
such precocious puissance of personality, regal resilience,
my imagination renders eagles delivering sustenance to her,
bees bringing heavenscent -
J.A.B.
I used to be into politics,
I would shout loud, and chant, and march,
believed we could change everything
if only we could be in charge.
Get new blood into hallowed halls,
the old paradigms we’d wreck,
but neither me nor anyone
could foresee what would happen next.
See a senator from Ohio
got thrown clear off a speed-boat,
before anyone could get to him
he’d drowned in the water below.
He had just begun his first term,
and had served for only a year,
but when a new election was called
the strangest of things did appear…
The senator’s ghost, sat at his desk,
shimmery, but still clear as day,
through the stunned expressions of shock
the senator had this to say:
“Did you think I would give this up?
My campaign cost forty million,
you think death would keep me from this?
Heck no! I will finish out my run.
“Besides, where is it ever said
in that great document of ours
that a ghost can’t serve constituents?”
The truth of this had us alarmed.
So we turned to the court system
to try and clear up this whole mess,
they scoured the Constitution,
then admitted with much duress
that no power had government
to keep spirits from taking their pace,
if the citizens voted for him
then he was free to participate.
This ruling opened up flood gates,
the ultimate incumbency,
the pols were all so power-mad
that they never left this Earthly scene.
One-by-one they would all die off,
then reappear as a ghostly form,
to be elected back to their seat,
and before long this was the norm.
And now, thirty years afterwards,
a tipping-point has been reached,
Ectoplasmic-Americans
now hold enough seats to impeach!
Advisors now say to hopefuls
you don’t have a chance until you’re dead,
except if there’s a haunting scandal,
then maybe you’ll get elected.
Needless to say the youth turnout
has plummeted all across the land,
and at rallies the pols no longer
even attempt to shake your hands.
Everyone can see the future,
it looks exactly like today,
same names, same faces, and same lies,
but them wasn’t it always this way?
Though if they’re all remaining here,
not going to the afterlife,
then Heaven has no politicians…
It really will be a paradise!
Finally They're on TV
By Franklin Price
8/4/2015
Finally they're on TV
Been waiting for so long
The presidential hopefuls
Are now where they belong
Too many to come all at once
Formats not all debate
Depends on popularity
On just how high they rate
The ones rated the lowest
Were seen first yesterday
We watched with expectations
To see what they would say
Was not all disappointment
They were given minutes five
To rise above the others
Or take a further dive
Each given their own questions
For which they had prepared
The boiler plated answers
Has got me more than scared
They did the political jitter bug
They did the song and dance
Sometimes was entertaining
For me was not romance
Perhaps the next round better
More will puff and spout
Hope some will make some honest sense
Not raise much further doubt
Political Celebrity
By Franklin Price
8/19/2015
Political celebrity, lets you have your way.
All the networks want you, it really helps their day.
Increases all their ratings, just to show your face.
The others, politicians, are not even in the race.
To say you are outspoken, would be very understated.
Quite a breath of fresh air; for a long time we have waited
The stations are all wanting you; competition's second place.
Clamoring to hear your next words, to show your smiling face
You don't have to make sense, or follow party line.
The farther you are in outer space, the better; it's so fine.
You've gotten their attention, but that could go away
Now's the time to tone down, and make some sense of what you say.
I know that you're not stupid. You know how to play the game.
You know you can't do all you say. This country's way too tame.
You're not a politician, much too open with your words
Concerning for a lot of us; the silent milling herds.
For me you're quite enticing, just to keep do-nothings out.
There's no one that controls you, shown by the way you shout
If you're really serious, and want to save the day,
you've got to get some substance in the words you have to say.
You're so much more intelligent than those politician dolts
Just put a plan together with some screws and nuts and bolts
If it makes some sense to us, you could be on your way;
other Presidential hopefuls have nothing new to say.
If you wait much longer, the door now open will slam shut
The outlandish things you utter have you sounding like a nut
Makes you the same, but different, as the others on the stand
Keep on the way you're going and you'll never run this land.
You were my longest journey ... and I never left home
The terminus changed, ever - roads twisting to fit your desires
And in those passages, the courses and quests that measured ... us
I, the ONLY I, was lost ... forever
In the stead of all those wishes spent on me - YOUR wishes
Expectations fit those same molds - of others, close ... the new compass
No soul-searching or introspection, no sincere original motive
(The dark ghosts danced ... wore my skin like a suit)
Impossible father, impossible presumptions, (I knew not)
Maternal bookend of perfection and grandeur, enabled ... adoration, odd
Women and more women, feast-to-famine, for experience's sake
Never deliberate or bound by more than curiosity or craves
There were other "You's" ... pseudos, quasi's, phantoms, hopefuls
Oh, how I and God pitied them for the standards I wrapped around them
Nailed to a tree of brown-eyed-blonde sublimity and creative cost
Mediocre passions gifted to the thief with a promise of heaven
Perhaps they should have known you ... perhaps they would understand
A moment's id of your smile, a breath of your essence or charm
A plunge in those eyes, frozen or molten ... a touch, just so
It matters not the sense or the mode, you captivate ... completely
Do you think they'd forgive me then? Do you think they'd take pity??
Oh, I KNOW it, and they would as soon slice my throat for my place in it
Peel me like a grape and wear it themselves, just to taste your tongue
Suck the marrow from my bones for a minute of the moments given me
I held it all for you ... the hope AND the years
I've lived it all, been 'round the world, known a thousand hearts and bodies
Been a hundred people for the desires of everyone ELSE
Just to find myself back here, the same foolish boy, wanting more ... you.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Musical Inspiration" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
(Song chosen was "Holding Back the Years" by Simply Red)
Note: In 1976, Richard Clayderman (real name Philippe Pagès) received a telephone call from a well-known French record producer, who was looking for a pianist to record a gentle piano ballad. Paul had composed this ballad as a tribute to his newborn second daughter “Adeline”. The 23-year-old Philippe Pagès was auditioned along with 20 other hopefuls and, to his amazement, he got the job.
O sweet Adeline, born eyes open
And a smile on her small lips.
O delicious child I heard her gurgle
As if she had heeded a joke.
A tune raced in his mind and
He knew it was urgent to put it on paper.
The babe made noises of joy
And the music echoed its tune,
At times it was repetitive
At times it sounded soft and sweet.
But soon the babe raised her voice
A repetitive mellifluous melody
Lulling the babe to sleep.
Dream little child, dream on
Would that you have pleasant dreams,
And may the Good God bless you forever.
*Image of A Fallen Smirk by DG.
Brace For Impact
Pillar of society, creme de la creme, important person,
one to be reckoned by indeed.
One who's untouched by palls, frails near a radiant ray
growing escorts doth proceed.
Voice of distinction whose speeches are unchallenged
by its assertion that's decreed.
Unphased episodes courses the agendas, a sequence
that discerns simper's precede.
A tempestuous dominance succeeds ominously, envy
malcontents opposition brews.
A reddish rosebud blossom pleasantly teases passing
precious sinless longing views.
Momentarily, likely hopefuls sufficed with promiscuity,
as castles are in the air amuse.
Tease now meets, precious turns valuable, the sinless
goes erringly, a longing peruse.
It's Victor Victoria all o'er again, contentious contempt
prompt convenient conveyance.
Spun wove a collaring, intrigues the unconscious prey
lifeline throbbings flit abeyance.
Reflections forfeited understanding, extending affairs
remaining heartfelt purveyance.
A cunning round effortlessly played a quagmire knew
a must to revisit the surveyance.
Gameplayers oriented with odds best strategy, ne'er
is an even field, someone loses.
The furnishings and ambiance, constant the unwary
yet, talented eyes espy cruises.
The vibrant and the figurative ignored the trappings
materializes oneness' enthuses.
Benumbed by skepticism facilitates a stirring, bestill
as mesmerizing coequals fuses.
Skulked fogs' ethereal coursing mauling hilltops full
as the penthouse lights dwindle.
Midst Aurora's wake a bliss wanes, as lights reclaim
the wilting as a mint thorn tingle.
The advent baffles confused as concealed cameras
videos live and reporters mingle.
Crushed stand, a ring falls, plays another team, not
alone, brace for impact, a kindle.
2022 June 22
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 12
~~Edward Ibeh: Judging 2022 July 01
betrayal is mischievous,
a thief of trust, and a loser for hopefuls,
to lose a soul, but to gain a soulmate
and to hold a familiar existence
yet again, you will die from your own fate
i lost myself when i found whom,
to kneel down for God's mercy
to find myself in the midst
of someone's recognition—
i may found me in him,
through Him
as tragic as it seems to be,
i would rather pray for his forgiveness
than for me, not because i am the ideal
but as a woman that would use
every parts of me
to let him know God
for God to let him be forgiven
i may be unsure for the longing
of seeking a soul,
to bury your wholeness, to know
my identity for the nth time
to know God again
to kneel down
even if it takes my soul to decay again—
even if it takes to plead for Him to find my soulless self,
without seeking for another soul to tie
still,
to whisper a prayer—
not to ask a soul to embrace mine, Yahweh,
to let it sit with my silence,
but to let them find a place,
even if my absence
becomes the answer to that plea