Long Independently Poems
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Ism's
In theory are all well and good
Until when it comes to
Being asked
To provide a modicum of
proof or shinning example
to follow
Then an ism independently
viewed and broken down
Becomes and appears in
a different light
Like a smokes filled room
filled with alder men sitting
around a high table
Expleting such views as
brother's and sister's
Women shall be bare foot
and pregnant never entitled
to vote
And equally to all power to
the people and worker's
To each an individual share
of everything they themselves
have created
Of what is left only after obviously
we have divided and taken our
cut 1st
Then yes your welcone to
split whatever's scraps
are left between the rest
of all of you
And if you wish to speak
to me refere to me as Sir
when you address me
Respect my service to the
cause and know your place
and station
Don't you know who i am
I am the 1 who resides in
the big house on the hill
And you are merely nothing
more than a peasant to
be regarded as a servant
So in summation nothing
in reality for you or your ilk
has changed
Apart from the fact you now
serve kneel and bow not
before a King
But yet another master
Proclaiming to be no better
in fact than any 1 of you
But still expected and wanted
all the same entitlements ,
benifts his predecessor possessed
He so wished to oust to
pacify his conscious conviction
and free the masses from
In order to become nothing
more than a perfect example of
what an ism is in reality
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
A coincidence fatale,
Would you possibly
believe,
But our senses, hearts and minds,
aren't so smothered nor subdued
- that we cannot perceive,
Total control of the food
China their blueprint,
the tool and the example
Recall Naval Blockade
for Opium Brown,
Unearthing vast resources,
Technocratic minerals
so precious
are taken out and shipped
by East India Crown,
For the rest of the planet
to taste but not sample,
The Dark Continent to bathe only - in blood to drown
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
Bolshevik Banksters South Africa,
Cecil Rhodes' Round Table
- of Gold
Totalitarianism through
crippling debt to unfold
Manipulating countries World Bank, IMF
Creative funding - NGOs Lobbying 'necessary' Debt
plus coercion extortion,
Inner Circle Deception
Zimbabwe, Mugabe a pawn
to despair
Pen to paper, international, immoral signature they dare,
to wit:
Libya's 'Colonel' Gaddafi
put in place to commit,
independently solvent, perhaps
- realised too late
Any dissenters are jailed
or sanctioned to death
Aside from this, there is now hope
The Continent's cries
being heard at last..
by a majority common sense?
Other nations debate,
are now looking fast
for better, more ethical Laws that don't exactly depend on what they took,
It is after all an unpayable debt,
On the same old-Babylonian disastrous fate..
Though not yet, not yet
Astonishingly, Incredibly
though,
that's exactly what..
- They would have us believe
There's plenty to see,
if we care enough - to look.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
May 28th 2021
During covid 19 lockdown
ThePoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
Let us smile one last time
As the end of us comes through.
I remained in my world,
And you in yours
Because for you
We are not equal.
Never can be.
It may take centuries to understand
That our minds carry equal weight,
Equal strength.
“My life is beneath yours.”
No, not at all.
“Your thinking is superior to mine.”
No, not at all.
I think as independently as water
Restless, shaping stone.
Why are we trapped
In this artificial world of dependency?
Weariness entered my life.
Wrinkles carved into my muscles.
My thoughts grew tired
This togetherness
That kept taxing my mind
Day after day.
One day I became sand,
Moving from dune to dune
Yet dependent on the wind
To carry me.
Isn’t that so?
Where is my space?
A free will like an asteroid
Yet still pulled
By some unseen gravity
Somewhere.
Life paused at this juncture.
So I disappeared
Or ran for a hundred years
Seeking an equal soul.
I wear the flame of your name,
traced in jaguar herbs
between pearl blades of angels,
pulling in the heat of your wildfire...
My soul branded with a burning love feather
molten madness stroking the light rebellious,
your identity a touch of kissing curves,
I am mantled with a cloak of star rain...
Addicted, engrossed,
as my silhouette aches to be drenched
in rivers of your rushing rhymes,
breathing nothing but the dream
of being chained
to the footprints of your soul...
Tethered to the stride of my soul
heartbeat warmly pained,
You follow with yielding scream
my attention on your pulsing eyes,
I spread open vellum of poetry achingly inked,
scent of rose melting frost...
I've witnessed them christen my night as lethal,
their prayers painting me as sin,
while I entomb their accusations
in a blood stained envelope,
laid to rest in a casket of poisoned lilies,
for I am no longer their Lilith
crowned with silken serpents,
jeweled in jinxed jasmines
I am the gold rose rays of sunrise
wrapping you in blushing silence...
But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?
Within your bloom there is a violet innocence,
weaponized once for ritual license
a jewelry box of black magic temptations,
Tiara of bloodstones broken for love repentance,
a Goddess become Woman trueth,
the coffin become catalyst to living tears,
elegant gown now simple linen of lilac hope,
reputation now means nothing
before heart's divinations,
You are no harpy, You are my revelation,
You are love beautiful, reason for my passion crystal...
This composition was written
by J.A.B. and Ink Empress
as a collaboration expressing
love as a transformative experience.
Ink Empress wrote verses 1, 3, & 5,
and also the bridge line,
"But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?"
I composed veres 2, 4, & 6...
During the writing process I decided to rhyme my end line words in reversed order
to her end line words...
So although our verses independently are Free Verse, I ryhmed the end line words in reverse order verse for verse, in doing so inventing
a new rhyme meter especially in contex of collaborative poetry.
Dad,
Was so dear:
Gave me solitude,
To learn independently
For critical thinking's spell...
Cast its relieve bound,
If time turned;
Wound.
While,
Been so keen
On his take of me,
Mum thought of it unfairly...
She did give extra play time,
When been far away.
Yet dad thanks
Her
More
Been watchful...
He reads my progress,
Thanks to him, I could read well:
My thoughts, actions and words
Beyond the surface.
What eyes deem
Fit.
But,
Mum is nice.
I could play football,
Relate with other children,
Bless environs with my feet-
For love of the game
Entertains
Dream.
I
Hang to live,
If time comes up true,
To decide what to fight for...
Switch his dream for Wemstemmy.
Yeap! From his to mine.
Interest brings
Best!
Out
Of health's strike,
His hourglass keeps cake
Off celebrating days counting...
In-out of sand in seconds,
To switch World anew:
Peaceful realm,
Reigns...
Shine...
Like sky star,
Before yours dropped
Away below what eyes glow:
Travelling its spark in my mind...
Forever shall I,
Remember
You.
The lying newspapers
To vote in Britain is a strange affair
since it is class-based, every class only read
what is of their interest,
doing the best to denigrate the enemies party leaders
but since the owners of newspapers are usually
right-wing the conservative party often wins.
There is an exception the Guardian can at time
the sound left-wing, but then they get cold feet and join
the shrieking of the right.
The popular press also called the gutter press destroy
peoples reputation, say “Corburn” an excellent politician
belonging to the left of the labour party.
What is scary is that working/class readers get influenced
by the constant lies and vote for a party
that is no good for them and the country.
This comes down to lack of education not being able
to read between the line and think independently.
Calling You Home
It's not my business what you do
On your journey through life but I promise true
If you drift too far from sanity
By gamblin', boozin', smokin', and tokin' to get a high
All that is worthy will pass you by
And one day , like me, you will realise
It's too late to try.......to change
If you want a natural high first you gotta get free
From all addictions preventing you from becoming
The prince God intended you to be
You must be willing to look Truth in the eye
Man wasn't born to crawl; man was mean't to fly
Rebuke every alibi and aim for the sky
You can do it..you've an Ally
Deep within you there is a Strength
Without boarders in depth, width or length
Draw from that Power whose presence is nigh
All you'll need, that Source is able to supply
Evict procrastination from your heart
Resist hesitation and make a start
If you do your best the Spirit will do His part
Absolutely
Once you feel the embrace of Victory
Over everything preventing true liberty
You will soar like an Eagle and laugh at calamity
Gaining the courage of a lion
The meekness of a lamb
The cleverness of a fox
And you will climb the highest mountain
And stand..with head held high
Not because you succeeded independently
But bended as the Willow to the guidance of Wisdom
And Honesty
Someone once said, "Life is short" and I know that's true
I'd grieve if what happened to me happens to you
Because I wasted at least 40 years
You cannot undo what's been done
Memories of stupid choices , you can delete none
You've youth and there is still time
But the clock is ticking and it won't rewind
However, you can turn around
If you believe you're on a path Hell-bound
Peace of mind and joy are among the sweetest treasures
Ever known
If you listen with your heart, you will hear them,
Calling You Home
by Joan Donnelly Ellis Sept 15, 2017
Introducing my roommate Leong to my Saturday morning cartoon binge habit proved to be one of my BEST ideas EVER. She’s a very animated watcher, frequently laughing, gasping in horror and, in the end, delighted by these silly shows.
It’s almost a case for convergent evolution, how two creatures, from opposite ends of culture and the world can be so similar.
I find myself watching her, for her reaction, as much as the shows themselves - I’ve seen them before but I rediscover them vicariously and emotionally through her. We can spend hours dissecting character arcs and plot twists - we’ve found a small, stress-free heaven.
It’s 10:40am Sunday morning and Leong is dipping celery in barbecue sauce for breakfast again. “THAT’s just gross,” I deem, holding my hand up to block my view of this travesty.
“You should TALK,” she says, “Flexatarian!”
I gasped, like a slapped Chris Rock in the face of this naked aggression. “Why am I a flexatarian! I demand, my mind reeling for context, “because I ordered the potato burrito at taco bell?” I look around for some sort of rescue or validation, but we’re alone.
“That’s so FAUX,” I say, in an injured voice, shaking my head sadly. “I’m by the book carnivore,” I say, holding my fingers in a three-fingered girl scout pledge.
“And you have to live with that trauma,” Leong says, scooping an extra large dollop of sauce with her celery as I make gagging and heaving sounds.
.
slang
Flexatarian - someone who’s only a vegetarian when it’s convenient or showy.
faux - untrue
*Convergent evolution: how life evolves in certain predictable ways because they work the best. For example: how flying has evolved independently at least four times on earth: in birds, bats, insects, and pterosaurs. Ultimately, this theory predicts that we will meet other “humans” if we ever get out and explore the universe - those Star Trek green, human aliens may actually be real somewhere.
*I have a no “show off” rule which this may violate..
Thanksgiving gobbledygook
The following anecdote baste
upon overactive imagination of mine
in sync with being married
and monogamously living socially chaste
life as a scrupulous anchorite,
whose weather beaten corporeal flesh
plus sabotaged, riddled,
and tuckered psyche effaced
after becoming adequately stuffed,
this turkey (in the straw)
then flapped his trussed wings
(at the speed of sound)
if listening closely echoes refrains
from Amazing Grace,
(which words reflections of John Newton,
a slave trader
who nearly died in a shipwreck,
and who eventually became a minister.
after which he penned the famous words
of "Amazing Grace" for a sermon
for his 1773 New Year's service
at the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul)
unable to escape ill fate of mine
i.e. being analogous to cooked goose
subsequently found him interlaced
with various and sundry
other dead animals
fixed to be mounted
(courtesy a taxidermist) on a wall.
The holiday dates back
to November 1621,
when the newly arrived Pilgrims
and the Wampanoag Indians
gathered at Plymouth
for an autumn harvest feast,
an event regarded
as America's “first Thanksgiving.”
Ever since then throve,
a commercialization, commodification,
commination and communication war,
where many a big box department store
large-scale buildings
of more than 50,000 square feet,
the store is usually plainly designed
and often resembles a large box
for example Walmart, Home Depot,
Tesco, and Ikea are examples
of big-box retailers,
but never forget warehouse clubs
such as Costco and BJ's
considered the original kind
of big-box retailers nevermore
to witness mom and pop businesses
(small business entities
that thrive independently and spurred
pick/pull yourself up
by bootstraps guild den age,
or family-owned) hardcore
bricks and mortar outfits
prominent during pre industrial
high societies, when love's labour's lost
venerated, serenaded, and promenaded
like The School of Scandal of trysts,
buzzfeeding the literati
with tantalizing amour.
The majority see normality in their conformity of reality
think the minority less ordinary living independently of society
so the predominantly found commonality to follow the herd unquestionably
as those unobjectionably herded sheep live undeveloped intellectually
for the safety to be safely integrated with humanity
in a delusional state of superiority to protect their sensitivity
but to truly go where you please is a sign of your integrity
when you choose to have your own views and be standing for them separately
risk the social repercussions which return your way indefinitely
when you learn that they lack concern as they have no way of thinking free
the cursing gift that you live with that doesn’t need authority
or popularity through obscurity avoiding any form of scrutiny
knowing social approval’s only useful if you want anonymity