Long Immemorial Poems
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When the stomach of a child
Who has overfed rumbles, it is not
In memory of the empty hands of the past
Or what the future holds in hand
It is to mock hunger by saying all is well for now!
All is not well for tomorrow’s grinding hunger
When the Ministers of chronic poverty
Are the symptomatic children of gluttony.
The politicos eat their fill of the national cake
Down to their kin, while the dry crumbs
Are earmarked for poverty alleviation.
Today, like yesterday immemorial
They formulate policies, sign MOUs
Host conferences, organize seminars
Then publish readymadecopypaste reforms
Before the press and assembly
On how to terminate the gene (ration) of poverty.
But then, await aids, charities
Foreign loans, Sani and Diezani’s loots
Which are then looted again.
Only for the political meme
To procreate poverty, a social gene.
All is not well
When inflation drowns and hunger mounts.
You who eat until your every anatomy become fibroid
And then you say all is well.
Have you ever heard or felt
The roar and bite of empty stomachs
Or the crackling ribs of raving hunger?
And have you felt the hopelessness of trying
To perceive the aroma of tomorrow’s break of fast?
We cannot live by charities
Palliatives and crude empowerment alone
But from every sustainable development
Infrastructures and industrialization.
Our palms cannot always be spread under the sun
Awaiting bronze coin and silver manna.
No more nagging stomachs, colourless eyes
And furrowed brows
No more the darkness distributed by PHC
No more the public wealth shared by NASS
And their fellows, the contractors
No more business monopoly, hoarding and inflation
No more the love for foreign lands and goods
To the detriment of the homeland
No more insecurity, hate speech and division
No more fraud, immorality, tribalism and mediocrity
No more laziness, vain speech and promises
No more the birth of the almajirai and abandoned projects
No more the suit, cassock and agbada ministers of poverty!
A lonely demon
Sad life, live alone, always, since timeless time
Since time immemorial, a sadness, endless time
Live in the ocean of time, ageless life, sad kind
This demon is full of desire, a cursed creature
People don’t like him, they think he is satanic
Is not. He is only restless solitude, living alone
A wanderer around the world, a people lover
A good soul, a good heart, a selfless demon
A sensitive being, a suffering creature of God
This demon is my friend, sometimes we meet
In the cemetery, oh, lovely place! Playground!
This is his residence, an invisible castle; light
Shiny this amazing fortress, a nice stronghold
My demon friend lives there alone. Great home
Elegant old furnishing and huge rooms and halls
But my demon friend is so sad, because alone
He always watching the ladies, he needs one
Hmm, it is not possible to meet with a human lady
because this friendly demon is a being of spirit
He hasn’t a body, but he wants to try human life
with a lady. Hmm, he has followed us for a long
time ago. For a thousand years, oh time is wrong.
Just watching the humans, the ladies, the families
Poor demon is alone, he has no family and no love
His castle is full of emptiness, just ring the silence
Sometimes we drink together, I bring dry red wine
He loves it, and he always gave me a demonic drink
It’s comes from hell, and amazing blue wine, a life
Drinking this giving a new life, phosphorescent wine
The demon said you do not need to learn the other life
Just drink, and follow my line, we are together in time.
In time? I asked him. In the space of time. Answered.
He is right, but I have no time, and he is an immortal.
Lonely demon, my brother, please teach me your life
I want to be like you, a super demon, an immortal
Not easy my life, but you are a student, still mortal
The sad demon wants to be a human, lonely his life
He is suffering a lot, why am I a demon? Why?
He can’t change his life, can’t be a human, sad life
… immortal.
Autumn of our Years
The black clouds race like a murder of crows
No space between their wings
What’s in store no one knows
We will have to take what life brings.
Leaves fly past at racing pace
The rain slashes down like stair-rods
Summer's gone it never showed it's face
Autumn knock, trees bow their heads and nod
Another season over a new one to begin
What will autumn bring when the harvest is in.
From time immemorial to a time whenever
Each season follows the last, the circle will end never.
To take joy from each season, can be hard to do
As we grow with each one, our circle rolls too
“In the autumn of our years” never let anyone say that to me
I’m spending my circles in the summer now and for all eternity…
© ~GG~ 10/09/2012
Greenswards Fecundity Blooms Away ™
Within a fortnight, as tempestuous slam
dunk March madness closes curtain call
“in like a lion, out like a lamb,”
twill hove tested survivability,
asper flora, thru harsh winter, and
those most see ring robust will pass exam
unbridled love bursting asunder
cavorting, frolicing, instigating
wham bam thank you ma'am
lollygagging, orchestrating, romancing
while birds and bees pollinate jam
ming, humming, fostering sensational slam
dance, where flora lifts, wafts, and yawps
invoke warble, gurgle,
burble from baby in pram.
Meanwhile latent Mother Earth
quite pregnant with
multifarious potent new life
vermilion, violet ready to burst
asunder from Gaia's girth
dramatically altering landscape
with expectant birth
of animal and plant species distilled
within crucible, sans terra firma hearth
quite a contrast, when
polar vortex wrought dearth
whence Spring begets plenti
kindling, snapchatting, and twittering mirth.
Also uniquely designed hue man
denizens of every stripe nurse
tender affection expressing
amorous poetry and verse
rejoicing, the dead of winter,
and attendant frostbite curse
frozen folks felled, thence carried
away in horse drawn hearse,
where heavy grief ameliorated
as natural holistic
narcotic brings pacific
balm, calm, and psalm snapping,
crackling, and popping
wide web with electric
ambient ancient, yet contemporary music
punctuating the air with lulling lyric
since time immemorial
recognized as greatest soporific
equally savored, whether
devout or atheistic
nonpareil eclectic dreamy
harmonic melange cathartic
aural, diurnal, integral
quintessentially converging harmonic,
democratic, and anthemic
congregation replete with fantastic
incorporation, viz diversity galactic!
Back in day (of ma
mum, and perhaps
since time immemorial)
utterances of physicians
nsync with Staff of Asclepius
pounded against floor,
(which wrought
life to entwined serpent,
whose beady
eyed hypnotic power)
understandably
ranked doctors among
near mythical powerful
Gods, who ought
best not be ignored, thus
(then a young Harriet Harris,
now long since deceased)
felt overbearing heft of
medical practitioners final words,
and subsequently would nought
refute, ignore, nor
dispute sacred commandment
hence would n'er be accused
of sacrilegious immodesty,
impiety, or impropriety
(towards medical institution),
and never doubt voice
most supreme in the universe,
thus she felt caught
against challenging authority
meekly surrendered
her only son, bought
with bargaining chip
indubitable faith
in omnipotent equip
ment with hocus
pocus magic to flip
precious life humming along,
or force death grip
upon a lovely boy (christened
Matthew Scott Harris),
at present lapsed beet hip
pea hooping to stave
off crossing the lip
of LX bracket, there
fore reckons a nip
and tuck (think
prefrontal lobotomy),
asper when just a pip
squeak ushered,
where mine existence
could be mortgaged
with accidental,
(or purposeful) slip
of the knife, while
under anesthetized trip
returning minus a mass of
enlarged lymphatic tissue
between the back of
the nose and the throat.
Suddenly over the sudden years
I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross -
the weight of sundry uncharted days.
Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder
and not the broken spool in a cassette tape.
A subfuse goose whispers: Record the sky for me.
I must write ‘sky’ ten times a day
so that the abated will not be forgotten.
Yet how to keep a goose-gray sky fresh
when the days are so metallically shiny and blue?
None recall the monochrome stories
we once told our color-blind children?
They have grown beyond such things.
I have so little time, yet must set down
the legend of little boy gray,
his history has almost passed away,
now eyes have no corners to see.
I knew him well, alas the roads to that tale
are backhoed by cartoon rainbows.
History calls me out into the park
where a lineage of dog leads the nose
to a yesteryear, a brawling time
free from the wow and weight of newness.
we lived then as historians leading other historians
upon trails of immemorial sensations.
Meadow larks meant something once,
but now look at them, they strut like roosters
over the journals of the dead!
History cannot now be cured; it is far gone,
its prone, hump-backed form encumbers
like a speed bump.
Wordsworth and his damn golden daffodils -
as if we did not know already.
I hover over histories sickbed
my impedimenta droop like the dewlaps
of a prodigal deity.
Only a moment ago history ran through hill and dale
as naked as an infant,
its fields were alive with love, war, and kapok -
a stuffed, full metal jacket;
a saucily heraldic Kevlar.
I breathe into histories colorless lungs,
there are flocks of moribund geese tucked into each
alveoli and bronchi,
they have plucked themselves naked,
they long for the ten sky’s
named in my cinereal histories.
I shoulder this burden of faded things,
this molting albatross,
all the trappings of then and thereupon,
these I place now in an ash lined
and crumbling
vault.
Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
TO A MULTIHUED DAMSEL IN THE BEAUTY
OF HER WETNESS
Out of the womb of seedless waters came her birth;
No less than always has been her silent beauty—
Radiant essence crowning the heavenly throne of Earth;
She’s a spectral reflective bouquet of God’s creativity.
Mothering Sun smooths each of her rays into its special place;
As her regal dome challenge the matter of her magnanimity.
No force of whispering winds can move her from her chosen space;
For the celestial realm has surrendered to her aura’s nobility.
In vain, many have set sail in search of her beginning and journey’s end;
Failed voyages of endless searches by the adventurous brave and bold.
Yet, her celestial curvaceous tinted arch still excite the curiosity of men
With voracious appetites for things whose worth and beauty rivals gold.
Yes, from time immemorial, man has been privy to the sight of her beauty
And teeming glow;
Yet, since that time, man has never ever been able to hold and control
God’s teasing rainbow!
Since time immemorial,
I have been watching this hawk
Through my window,
Stealthily it was pilfering chickens
And Kalu Khan desperately driving it away !
Now the hawk has become a V.I.P.
Sitting on the top of palm tree
The hawk is now coronating itself
As if it were a wise animal !
It’s wings are heavy with greediness and corruption.
Methinks, the hawk is now no more a bird
The moving tricks of its neck
Flapping of large wings,
Dignity of flying on the sky
Says it all !
Now, hawks are the saviors of our nation,
Race, creed and religion,
The hawks write our character certificates.
Now, the hawks are no more hawks !
I am a side chick
I have existed from time immemorial
In ancient times I was a prostitute
In biblical times a concubine
Otherwise known as a mistress
The other woman
She that never came home
A woman tucked away somewhere
In all centuries
I have lived on the sidelines
Docile, submissive and unsung
Pandering to sexual needs
Of wayward husbands
Though I live in obscurity
I am a legend of all times
No husbands can resist me
Some risk it all for me
I am the sword of Damocles
Hanging over every marriage
I am a shadow that follows
Men under my spell
As they keep running to me for more
From cold matrimonial beds
While I keep devising new strategies
To be their everlasting nemesis
As a dynamic legend
To remain relevant in my trade
I seek out stars and the wealthy
And transform to a baby Mama
With a permanent cheque book
And a swollen bank account
Condemn me as much as you will
Despise me as much as you can
Criticize me as irresponsible
I remain indestructible
And a global citizen
Until men and women
Live in perfect relationship
But that remains a mirage
Until then the legend lives on!