Long Horrendous Poems

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Goree Island

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014


 I see the blood
of my ancestors 
that swell
 in the Atlantic ocean 
on 
Goree Island -

The unmerciful ill winds 
that fell 
over my people, 
in Senegal, 
on that 
horrific night, 
brought the European's, 
across the Atlantic, 
to our Village -

Everything 
in the world 
changed forever, 
and 
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable" 
cruel acts 
of slavery, 
cloaked my people 
like 
darkness in the night -

White men 
dressed in British 
formal attire, 
brought with them,
 bullwhip's, chains, machetes, 
and rifles,
 to capture us.....

 to ENSLAVE us!

We were brutally beaten, 
and 
taken to 
the House of Slaves, 
on Goree Island -

The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist, 
and 
ankle chains -

Days would pass,
some of us died
from 
diseases,
and
starvation,

while waiting
for 
the slave ship 
to come 
from the Americas -

The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,

as we were 
auctioned off as 
commodity,  
to the Americas, 
during 
the Atlantic Slave Trade

The mournful ness 
in our helpless eyes, 
spoke of horrendous fear,  
as a feeling of distraught,
distress, 
and despair, 
clothed us 
like 
death -

We are innocent people
that will never 
see our families again 
 Our homeland again - 

It's unfathomable, 
to see black souls in chains,  
taking those final usurious 
steps towards the "Door Of No 
Return," 
in the House Of Slaves, 
which left its ugly mark,
 on the whole global earth -

Once through
 the  Door Of No Return,  
we were sold to the Americas, 
and 
faced a future of 
severe beatings, burnings, 
hangings, lynchings, 
and 
rape -

To this day, 
ancient spirits 
of 
black people, 
still scream in rage
 on 
Goree Island, 

where an untold number 
of us were 
slaughtered, 
and 
branded 
before walking 
through the slave door,
of 
an uncertain future -

The ominous clouds 
of slavery,
 will 
forever cast 
a dark shadow, 
over the
House Of Slaves, 
the Door Of No Return, 
and the world -

Goree Island, 
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever 
cry tears of blood, 
from the souls of 
black people -
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.


Ascent and Descent

We have a tendency to focus on our flaws, despite it being what makes us human; what we despise is what one desires, and what we desire is what someone despises.
I felt this way for years; I still do- the perpetuous feeling that I’m horrendous. 
When I look in my mirror, I don’t see my full lips, my long lashes, or my hourglass; I see my short legs, protruding stomach, and my eyebags.
Yet people with those flaws are beautiful- so why am I not?
The answer is that I am; I am beautiful, I am worthy, and I’m not horrendous- I simply haven’t been able to process my worth yet.
It seems that each passing year, I reflect on myself, making those negative remarks, rendering myself as unattractive.
Though, next year, I’ll look back on myself and realize how gorgeous I truly was; though it’s not that simple to prevent those negative feelings from pursuing. 
Does beauty even exist, though? 
It’s repeatedly changed over time, and it’s quite subjective, which has caused me to believe that true beauty doesn’t exist; it’s simply a perception.
I shouldn’t waste my time trying to ease the perceptions of others; I should follow my own, because short legs, protruding stomachs, and eyebags are beautiful; they’re only viewed in a negative way because society itself is ugly.
If I abide by every standard of others, I’ll only feel regret, for my happiness shall pulverize.
If I create myself to be someone who is healthy and who I love, my happiness shall thrive.
Though these insecurities will persist, even with the most attractive individuals- they’ll always haunt you, whether or not you believe in yourself.
So I dissected myself.
…
Carving every inch of me until my insides are out; but when I do so, my organs look the same as everyone else’s.
Bathing in perplexion until I realized; we’re all the same on the inside- and as I try to stuff my organs back inside of me, I remember what people say-
See, I’ve been told before, just like anyone else, that I’m ugly.
People take advantage of others' sensitivity in order to ease their insecurities; but they’re morons who don’t know what they’re talking about.
They try ridding of their “flaws” by projecting it on others, though those rigid thoughts will always remain inside.
But truth be told, we all have the same interior- and..
You’ll truly be happy if you stop caring about the perceptions of others.
© Reya Suri  Create an image from this poem.

Oceanic, Ominous Waves

Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to
Distress was not part of my gladness, so true
Oceanic, ominous waves bring me down sometimes, darling so free
Tension-packed, traumatic nervousness gives me moments of mere bravery

Oceanic, ominous waves swallow me whole and silence takes its toll substantially,
Eventually washing away the jubilance that blooms like the sun of the afternoon
Gladness and God’s grace makes me flutter away and sway away oh so beautifully
Like a suave butterfly out of a vicacious cocoon that flies in the month of June

Love from above is essential and beneficial to my heart of cold stone
I’m like a resonating, dynamic dove in the sky, then captivated in descending disheartenment
I rove in fields of blues and grays - the ominous waves, alone,
Have scared me off and made my optimism die and now, I am facing dire discouragement

Emotionally inclined and woeful waters spill out from my oceanic eyes
Getting rid of the guilty conscience and fighting back lust and lies
Crimson rain, like waterfalls, collide from the wounds of my heart’s desire
I want to be as pure as amber-colored auras around the rather dazzling fire

I’m as freezing hot as fire below the waters of wistfulness
I want to boil up your wondrous waves of blissfulness
I don’t want to look back at the ominous waves of fearful fretfulness
I don’t want to backtrack the sorrow from within you and I regardless

Majestic, mesmerizing movement of the sparkling sea moves us for an eternity
It brings me benevolent bliss and leaves the gloomy waves envious of our serenity
I just don’t want to be humiliated by hatred and its horrendous thunderstorm
Instead, let me feel the monsoons of meandering magnificence unfold and keep my kindred spirits warm

Evaporate the oceanic, ominous waves from tearing us apart - 
Drown not my hopes and joys of my youth from my heart; give me a reason to venture on my own
We are a ship of vital vigilance and shimmering might from the start
I am much like a seashore-bound shipwreck, once wandering through the abyssal waters all alone

Ascending awesomely like the exuberant, extraterrestrial mountains
Oceanic, ominous waves try to break me into shards of empty misery,
Expressing my solitude’s serene solace through my poetic words
Loneliness is not what I’m looking forward to, but to release it like birds
Form: Rhyme

Telly the Trendsetter

:)           

What kids are watching on telly
are crimes and crimes in all variety! 

Crimes of hate 
crimes of passion
acting it out at shocking rate
thinking in some wild fashion
then ending up cell mates! 

When kids watch their movie heroes
shoot down people with the gun
they are incited to do the same
to achieve some thrill and fun.

When they see their very film star
slash someone's throat in a fit of anger
they think well of crimes of rage
and plunge everybody else into danger.

The tendency to portray the violent scene
luridly and shockingly on the Big Screen

Ah even for the small screen, tis the gory
that makes for the dark and thrilling story.

Now that technology's long opened this pandora's box
the dispersal of amplified social ills ain't no hoax

The rowdy hoodlums and reckless gangsters
are simply by-products of Tv influences
The world watches the thriving of the bully-boy pranksters
passively in helpless terror of their offences.


It's all portrayal of the vulgar, the obscene
by that devious Silver Screen

And the horror movie
though it may seem groovy
begets the horrendous
and drills evil thoughts subliminally
into the subconscious! 

It's an unrestrained dark faking
of real life reality exaggerating

Whether it's Bollywood in the East
or it's Hollywood in the West
they don't merely impart tactics of defence
but rather those of aggressive offence

Viewing those gruesome swashbuckling films
gives rise to morbid sadistic whims

Flipping through the TV channels
just ponder if the telly's the perfect channel
of information is it a proper panel? 

Dad always tells me, 'fear ye the roaches' flicking antennae? 
While you oughtta fear the influence
of 'em' flickering images by dish antennae'.

Then a mere single merit that I dug
as I drank cappucino in my mug
that atleast one couldn't live in a bubble
daily watching the bubblebug.


Ah but then tougher gun laws couldn't halt
even underage shooting sprees
Rather it's stringent scanning of Tv content
that might make it all cease

Parental supervision too tis gravely essential
Should've been of parental code quintessential

So the next time you catch your teen
absorbed and engrossed while glued to the screen
Just sleuth a bit just to make sure
that for the x-rated he's not too keen!
Form: Didactic

Premium Member Crossing That Siberian Desert of Lost Souls

("" In order for the light to shine so brightly,
 the darkness must be present""  -Francis Bacon)

Crossing That Siberian Desert Of Lost Souls

No joy, no peace, on that darken horrendous stroll
crossing that Siberian desert of lost souls
blazing sun hit by invisible arrows shot
wherein the weak die, left as carrion to rot
so many blinded by illusions that world sends
eyes shut, never seeing what world's ill wind portends!

Mankind swims in a world that its hopes slowly burns.
Rolling the dice as Fate and Death take wicked turns.

Once as a youth such an innocent soul was I
racing forward deluded thinking I could fly
until in too deep, heart cried out from burning heat
and the ill wind's angry flames licking my bare feet
Please a refuge, I pray Lord a refuge please send
Oasis, that this wilting body I may mend!

Mankind swims in a world that its hopes slowly burns.
Rolling the dice as Fate and Death take wicked turns.

As sky then chased away that fiery red-hot sun
ahead an oasis, quickly onward I run
away from lost and blinded journey through this hell
away from lingering doubts I could never quell
away from this world and its insidious pains
away from deep darkness and its decaying stains!

This soul left that black-world wherein hope slowly burns.
No dice, Fate and Death taking no more wicked turns.

Robert J. Lindley,  12 -21- 21
Rhyme, ( Truth That Darkness May Not Prevail )

Notes:

(1.) Inspiration and thanks given, for this poem was received from a comment made to my poem , titled,  "I Looked To Heaven That Christmas Night"
Commented on 12/20/2021 5:43:00 PM by Jeannie Amos
("Not everyone makes it out of the Siberian desert of lost souls. Make the best of your blessing."
Thusly - I got this to stir my composing. -  ** "" Siberian desert of lost souls. ""** 
******* 

(2.) Inspiring quotes from famous,
 artists/thinkers/ philosophers/poets

(A.)
“Hope is being able to see there is light despite all of the darkness.”
--        Desmond Tutu
(B.)
“Differences are not intended to separate, to alienate. We are different precisely in order to realize our need of one another.”
--        Desmond Tutu
(C.)
"Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."
--        Carl Jung.
Form: Rhyme


Schooled In Hard Knock Sufferance

Schooled in hard knock sufferance... -
soulful scribe matt er fact - seeks solemn sanctuary

Despite always pledging
allegiance to the flag
academic performance traced, narrated,
graphed... unfavorable zigzag

vertical lined spikes across
x-axis and y-axis displayed
dramatically sharper increased crag
when promoted one grade to the next

how comprehension did lag
attributed to allocating, dag
gone nabbit budgeting, crafting... productive
time usage, plus an affirmative nod,

whereby yours truly did lallygag
evincing object lesson procrastination
study habits shucked off cuz mum did nag
obfuscation regarding illegible note taking
I moost definitely haint gonna brag.

Deplorable curriculum vitae
not hearty and hale
equals pathetic academic performance
now displeases me,

yours truly did wanna fail
no matter parents told me, I got smarts
severe psychological dissonance
affected this male

in retrospect,... a tell tale
sign everyday existence
arduous, horrendous, perilous...

lifelong struggle analogous to quail
caught between cross hairs
tis pointless foregone opportunities... assail
self pointless, hence no surprise
metaphor locked within jail.

Report cards highlighted
plethora weaknesses bred
teachers exhausted markers
especially black red
spent small fortune replacing
regarding this jughead,

who practically proved deficiencies
prevailed within his head
arising and undoubtedly stead
dully contributing living
antisocially he approximated
being gratefully dead.

Search for acceptance during harrow
wing during formative years absolute zero
earning michelin equivalent laughing stock,
where mummified pharaoh
each arose out sarcophagus (cue Thriller -
Michael Jackson), a hero

cash equalling cow Jackson 5 era
before disgraced pedofile,
now keeps company with Nero
roman around within underworld
plus disembodied spirit Clarence Darrow,
who scopes, karaokes,
moonwalks... with monkeys.

Sundry dead souls heave pens, gogol,
and trumpet like Donald duck,
their afterlife I envy mingling sui generis
versus yours truly down on his luck
dismal flying colors

analogous to mire and muck
no man iz an island, yours truly isthmus
squeezing thru narrow passing lane,
this bummer doth aimlessly truck
this late bloomer summoning forth
long suppressed pluck.

One Bold Black Soul

often in the grand scheme of God's desires
He will use mankind to do what He requires
His providential purposes God's master plans
will utilize any and all types of man

the Pharoah declared a most horrendous decree
of infanticide on Jewish male babies
to put them to death to keep their numbers down
fearful of having too many Jewish males around
but history has a way of repeating itself again and again
as the young Black male populations today hangs by a fringe
with incarcerations, police brutality and killing each other
we're on the verge of eradicating our young Black brothers
a supposed threat to society that same old racist mentality

yet all it takes is for God to send someone to be bold
one person unafraid to break away from the mold
over 400 years of praying and keeping hope alive
a people once in slavery but today they now thrive
from Moses to Jeremiah to the Rev. Dr. King
to President Barak Obama God can change anything
One Bold Black Soul to say what needs to be said
One Bold Black Soul whose life is spirit-led

don't let the world compromise your moral integrity
let prayer be the tool you use to claim the victory
you need some solitude to simply reflect
on that which God desires of you and what of you He expects
God will be what you want no matter what you need
and He will do whatever is needed to help you succeed
so walk in the spirit and just wait for your time
and be ready to act when God gives you a sign
to be called into place with God's saving grace

Jeremiah told the people of the prophecy
about their demise if they confront their enemy
he was then thrown into a pit full of mud and slime
his death to be a certainty in a very short time
but One Bold Black Soul stepped up to the plate
and told the King to save Jeremiah before it was too late
One Bold Black Soul an Ethiopian man
told of the soldiers diabolical plans

to be bold, to be risky, to be resilient in your resolve
to step out of your comfort zone until the problem is solved
from Rosa Parks to Medgar Evers to Malcolm X
to do what is prevalent and not what society expects
creative in courage, inspired with innovation
by any means necessary to change the situation
One Bold Black Soul willing to step out on a limb
to stop history from repeating itself once again
Form: Narrative

Future Archeology

Perceptions of a ragged space,
all that was left by the human race,
there's not a lot left to see at all,
as their carelessness was seldom small.

Let's dig around 
in that frazzled ground,
for that's where there's bound to be,
some signs of dodgy chemistry
or maybe just a little radiation,
the sort that killed another nation,
though they said it wasn't bad at all,
any effects would be so very small,
just as asbestos would never embroil
us in disease, nor would a little spilt oil.

But profit ruled the minds of men,
the bosses say do this thing and then,
you'll have enough to pay the rent,
but wouldn't as it was always spent
on a merry night out with the boys,
long before those electric toys
just sinking pints to rinse the dust, 
before staggering home all filled with lust,

Then some had coal with a price too pay,
only if they 'bought it', down the pit one day,
other times they might just cough it out,
smuggled home in their lungs no doubt,
or maybe they were lost out in the wild sea
aiming to catch that fishy for the rich folks tea,
others were mangled up in the cotton mill wheels,
where safety guards didn't hide belts and reels..

And ever as man moved to make it safer than before,
some new peril would be found to drop men onto the floor
be it from a toxic gas or perhaps a mercury leak,
what did it matter while some profit they'd seek,
the waste might well taint the rivers and poison all
the fish they ate and so keep their children small,
small and weedy with some horrendous rash
while the air was grey with muck and ash.

I could go on for many a verse,
but I've no wish to be perverse,
for by now the penny will have dropped
for those whose brains have not been shot,
by additives to make processed food have taste
or keep it 'fresh' longer so as not to waste,
any scraps of reclaimed muck and gristle,
oh dear, now I've gone and blown the whistle.

And thats before I even mention the Taiji men
who slaughter dolphins by the thousands and then
sell their flesh with labels as if another meat,
what is it that Japan now consumes for a treat,
I wonder do they ever know for sure,
what it is they bring in through their doors
and so the follies still go on and on
do you wonder why I feel so strong?

©Rhumour
August 28th 2010
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member From Weeping Tears, No Longer Shall Joy Find In Heart Anything,Poets Dedication Series

Part Three of the Sixth poet honored
(Emily Dickinson) in famous poets dedication series

(3.)

From Weeping Tears, No Longer Shall Joy Find In Heart Anything

Creeping thick fog has dimmed my view of morn's resplendent lake
so dreary is life's sorrows, more than this sad soul can take
yet tomorrow promises mysteries that leap from the dark
tho' my life's worries have wrinkled my skin like Sycamore bark.

Night shall come, with its agonies crying to be unbound
as its bellowing howls screech out, horrendous gasping sounds
very soon midnight moon will swallow up my despondent soul
spitting it out as fragmented black-stained pieces of the whole!

God forbid! That from this nightmare I never dare to wake
to that of Life, dear sweet Love, I never again partake
and from morbid sunken state, my heart crumble and be no more
fallen into heaps of crushed bones, spilled blood and ghastly gore!

Woe! The epic pains such broken-heart images dare'st tonight bring
From weeping tears, no longer shall joy find in heart anything.

Robert J. Lindley, 2- 12-2019
Sonnet, ( The Sad Depths Of Sorrow's Deep Epic Pains)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, poets dedication series.. 


(4.)

There's More To The Old Forest Than Its Ancient Trees

As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees
there's more to the old forest than its ancient trees
mystery in places, savagery in its nights
more than just imagination, it hides from sight!

Yet such does not negate its most beautiful gifts
its Autumn colors, songbirds notes that so uplifts
bounty of its harvests, peace it oft can instill 
calm that one may find there, treasures that oft so thrill.

Tho' darkness lurks there deep and hides its evil ways
one can visit its truth, find self most any day
walk along its well worn trails and about life muse
all of its many wonders, in this dark world use!

As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees.
There's more to the old forest than its ancient trees.

Robert J. Lindley, 1- 18-2019
Sonnet, ( Amazing That This Dark World, Has Such Beauty In Its Forests)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, in poet dedication series


Note:
(1.)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson
(2.)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-dickinson
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member ROBBERS ON THE LOOSE - 3OTH SEPTEMBER 2024


ONE SHOULD NOT MAKE PLANS FOR TOMORROW, LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE, THE UNEXPECTED CAN HAPPEN IN A SPLIT SECOND.            “QUOTE BY POET”


I woke up to a brilliant sunny spring day,
The flowers blooming, the birds were chirping,
The tree leaves dancing to a gentle wind blowing,
Rustling their young leaves, our chime tinkling.
The jacaranda trees which looked so dashing
Giving us a glorious show, their flowers tumbling 
To the ground beneath, resembling purple carpeting.
Our annual optician’s appointment was today,
So off to mall we go, reluctant to leave our patio.

We were right on time, and the optician saw me first,
All good he said after my consultation, go have fun
And choose your specs.
Whilst choosing my funky frames, a petrifying noise
Surrounded the mall, the six of us froze.
So scary ,surreal, horrendous and mind boggling,
Loud shots, automatic gun fire, people shouting,
Shots fired from where no one knew, people screaming,
We huddled under the counter, shots still ringing,
The brave receptionist ran to shut the glass door and locked it
Then ran back to join us under the counter.

Normality returned all too soon, as an elderly man who
Seemed shell shocked and disorientated, stumbled in as the 
Receptionist cautiously re-opened the door.  He told us the 
Robbers were professionals, and were in and out in 5 minutes, 
Well-rehearsed he added, and the almighty thunderous
Bangs we heard, were from hearsay, that the robbers
Shot and broke the glass display cabinets, taking
All and every piece of jewellery with them. A getaway car, revving,
In the open parking on the third floor all ready and waiting.
The jewellery shop was just above us.  The ear shattering
Sounds were thus inevitable.
My thoughts however went to those terrified people shopping,
In the corridors of the mall,
Who had no shelter at all.

What happened to that wonderful sunny spring morning that I woke up to, flowers blooming, tree leaves gently swaying in the breeze and majestic  jacaranda trees carpeting the ground with their purple flowers.
We are mere mortals who live on a very turbulent and troubled planet, a  planet called earth.
Miraculously, no one was injured, to my knowledge.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY - IT HAPPENED TO US ON THE 30TH SEPTEMBER

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