Long Indirectly Poems
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Why me father/daughter relationship
important to this papa
Fourteen and a half years
since death of mother (mine),
nary one iota of communication
in general and compassion
in particular while
she lived, now wears
heavy and yokes
mantle fostering tears
indirectly sabotaging rapport
with eldest daughter
futility doth arise uttering
feeble secular prayers,
cuz interaction with mother,
whose vehemence more
deafening than banshee killdeers
exceeding threshold of
decibels tolerable these ears.
Now comeuppance came
full family circle, yes
that's her within picture frame,
when young, innocent, and beautiful,
decades before terminal
illness rendered her
incapacitated and lame.
Her second of
three born offspring,
and yours truly
that singular boy
figuratively tethered himself
to her apron strings,
which near omnipotent
biochemical bond her
rancor would destroy,
when lonesome son
failed to employ
purported adult responsibilities
solitary without any
even one homeboy
never knowing how
to maximize potential
rather totally tubular at loss
advantageously to deploy
supposed ducks in a row
always imp pond
durable feeling cast ahoy
shore lee within alien nation,
whereby village people
observe an exceptionally
unresponsive immovable
lad - qua zee decoy
analogous to stonewall,
albeit socially withdrawn
emotionally, physically,
and socially retracting
exhibiting no joy,
nor any audible,
tactile or visible life
stockstill like an
abandoned broken toy.
Silence spoke volumes mainly
I don't wanna be alive
antithetical to that basic
instinct to survive
protestations arose deliberately
minus figurative parachute,
I took kamikaze nosedive
a couple years after two times five
orbitz astride planet Earth
ne'er did amity, comity,
fraternity ever jive,
nope not even pleasant hello
would fake deaf/mute contrive
interaction between kith and kin
affection toward parents
and siblings (two sisters,
not twisted) I did deprive,
whence fast forward decades later,
a metaphorical wedge would drive
roughshod o'er kinship,
when fatherhood did arrive
though "star student" did connive
him (me) to test discomfort zones,
yet more often than not inclusive
integration abandoned among
linkedin with kindling explosive
smoldering volcano found
wicked volatility expressive.
I have tried to teach people
that saving ten dollars per week
together, as a group of people
can create wealth
If you invest each week
and help it grow,
you could buy off the internet
and sell through garage sales,
watch television
you could go to
secondhand markets
and sell at auctions
You can buy equipment
and start your own cleaning service
thousand of people could add to my ideas
one hundred people saving ten dollars per week
Could be used to buy houses
one thousand dollars per week
fifty-two thousand dollars per year
the deposit every year for a house
the planet has six billion people
six billion people times ten dollars per week
is sixty billion times fifty-two
the money to build anything
Desalination plants
factories
anything you can imagine
granted there would be problems
people buy houses
sometimes tenants won't pay rent
people buy, franchises
and some lose thousands
We can all watch the news
and see the risks of small business
five of six small shops
shut down, across the road from us
I presume, they could have made a profit
but some shops, never have customers
with rents wages and running cost
going into business is hard
yet if people don't go into business
nobody would have jobs
the word on the street, people say
companies get away
with not paying tax
maybe that's the truth
but companies pay wages
and workers pay tax from those wages
So indirectly companies do pay tax
I watched a female manager
who owned a coffee shop saying
it's not fair, the wages a too high
I can't take time off I can't afford the costs
every day she worked and struggled
to make a profit, business is hard
but growing small business
is what builds your economy
Mr Bill Gates started micro soft
from his back yard
now it makes
thousands of dollars per second
Imagine what he could do
with an investment
of sixty billion dollars per week
But I can't afford ten dollars per week
well that's true when people get only
seventeen cents an hour
when people live in poverty
Watching their children die
ten dollars per week
would be more than they could afford
That why I suggested
Encouraging Industrialized nations
employees to become investors first
ten dollars per week is just half a pack of smokes
you spend more going out to the pictures
(This is only my opinion, only written to promote calm discussion or debate. I know nothing, am not an expert on anything. If you are easily Religiously riled, spiritually offended, do not read this. Period.)
The Devil is smart, subtle; he can control one without the controlled being remotely aware. He can appear beautiful and angelic like, surrounded by dazzling light. He is content with making some simply complacent, not believing in his existence. Complacency means that you will not consciously, prayerfully battle negative influences in the world. He doesn’t need a lot of active foot soldiers. He can make you financially secure, a weekend content church goer, as he does many, when it prevents you from deeper scrutiny and higher spiritual growth. Complacency helps him indirectly perpetuate evil influence in the world. Pop Culture: meditation is good...but meditation should not be approached and practiced as a touchy-feelgood, New-age fad. Without knowledgeable instructional understanding of mind, body, and spirit, meditation can lead to demonic possession. When one puts his mind and body into trance, if not protected properly, if not first being in the presence of God (the importance of understanding shallow meditation vs deeper meditation~ Omnipresence) one opens himself up to demonic possession. Possessed often do not know it. It’s very seldom like the movies. Psychic powers, psychic centers of the Cosmic Form, should not be stimulated unless one is totally prepared to become a priest of God, totally committed to selfless service of humanity 24/7. One should not mess with Mysticism as though it were another hobby, or simply an occasional pastime. Two scoop day or one. Subjects like Kundalini, spiritual fire for purification and transformation, should not be attempted without proper groundwork, without spiritual training – dedication involving total, complete surrender to Christ Principal (Son of God), otherwise it is tantamount to giving a 4 year old a loaded gun to play with. Am I suggesting then, that one should not Meditate? Absolutely not. And everyone starts as a novice. Psalm 19 verse 14: Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.” All meditation, whether done by novice or otherwise, should begin and end in God’s presence.
That dormant feeling of insecurity arose,
when travel journal got thrust adjacent
to my tattered (holey tattooed) clothes
while I knew with crossed eyes
aroused anger from peaceful doze
my younger sister felt about her
globe trotting exploits, an over expose
jour ever since voyaging out on her own
after graduating top of her class
where mine hatred glows
indirectly snidely sneering
at ma dough less brother hoboes
(a 1979 Methacton High School alumni),
unanimously chosen valedictorian
dressed in Calvin Klein
Harris tweed, couture
and silk panty hose
like me prolonging, promoting
on par with quasi staff sergeant, who knows
artful disciplinarian gingerly launching rules,
asper formerly commanding G.I. Joes
and pronouncing, predilection
exhaling natural highs no lows
traveling solo, with surviving Wilburys,
or just mows
zing nonchalantly
(though a foreigner) with swarthy skin color
easily camouflaging as civilian
all points on the compass,
where minute needle doth nose
upon returning home (being honorably feted
at once glorious estate of Glen Elm,
where she did propose
to the Lord Taylor (swiftly), which location
situated at 324 Level Road, Collegeville,
Pennsylvania 19426),
thence a great huzzah a rose
an immediate nauseousness welled
within from me head tummy smelly toes
I did not want to here, or see any details,
which would accentuate personal woes
popping, snapping, and smarting,
and slapping skin raw tib bits,
ache'n to yanked strings
of mama's heirloom yo-yos!
Poet Script:
trials and tribulations,
visited upon head of young
concocted ("FAKE") gusty and gutsy
kid sister enterprising ingenue,
christened easy on the tongue
Sharodd (not her real name),
to top off talents sung
like a professional opera singer, which rung
a shiver along small hairs of spine did tingle
heard all the way to Lake Woebegone
where bachelor farmers did mingle
every Christmas, a decreasing
number donned Kris Kringle
hit with blitzkrieg of yawping brats
hoof pranced to bell weather jingle!
Nigeria.
The country of my birth. Beautiful in youth. Wrinkled as the years pass by. Through no fault of hers. But by the doing and undoing of her children, consciously and unconsciously.
Blessed by God. Impoverished by mankind.
Struggling for self-liberation but incarcerated by wicked and egoistic souls. Souls who prefer to squander and milk the nation today with the goal of enjoying life and securing the future of their lineage.
Nigeria.
Everytime I read the dailies, the thought of what might have been makes it all the more pathetic. A nation whose citizens should ‘swim’ in milk and honey. Whose name should be revered amongst the comity of nations. But for the myopic thinking of our leaders – past and present – we are where we find ourselves; in the woods. The genesis started with their actions and inactions.
Directly or indirectly, the fault is ours to bear. Forget colonization. Forget its offshoot, neo-colonization. We can be what we want to be. Fortune favours the prepared.
Nigeria.
A weak giant.
Clueless leaders.
A country with no respect for history. For the rule of law.
Whose citizens are permeated with a brief memory span.
Nigeria.
How can looters still have the temerity to contest elections after their misdeeds some years ago! And people will vote!
Another election is forthcoming; we will forget the ordeals of the past. And vote these insatiable, power-hungry, monstrously greedy, sinister people called ‘leaders’ into power!
Posterity will judge. If it can’t, then God.
Nigeria.
Girls are being kidnapped. Maybe raped and dehumanized. Students are on strike and the government does not give a hoot. Some governors are forever enriching themselves by passing bills that will pay them billions of taxpayers’ hard-earned funds. Pensioners are being owed. Poverty is on the increase. Unemployment too. Crime. Name them.
All these in a sane country!
Nigeria.
Until our ‘leaders’ are stopped from travelling abroad to treat headaches.
Until a law is passed mandating their children to school in public institutions.
Until every politician is made accountable for every kobo spent.
Until the rule of law is supreme.
Until our votes count…
Things will sure fall apart in this country.
Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu
attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo
with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of ashes)
remembrance attended
by gentile and Jew
sharing positive memories purportedly
about this nondescript
fellow they knew
mainly indirectly, poignantly,
and wickedly shot thru
with his insightful humorous scribblings,
plus magnus opus titled
"How do ye do,"
an informal rambling missive bereft
of any subject and
devoid with little clue,
the purpose of said hefty tome
out weighing The Federalist circa: knew
lee after American independence
Papers, written by true
purrs under the pseudonym "Publius"
but great (as a great doorstop), or
alight as tinder for barbeque
since many admirers never
read his text written in Hebrew,
fluency acquired spending
final years he grew
old, since automatic citizenship
granted based on genetic goo
plus Mediterranean climate helped promote
longevity to century his health did hew
thus naturally pronounced philosophy,
where he drew
quite a wide web asper the many
claims Matthew Scott did eschew
to maintain longevity (more
quackery than science), but who
could dispute glorious
principles, not to poo poo
analogous to placebo effect
harmless fervent coping methods,
whether to cure ague
interestingly enough he cited ack hue
puncture for a gamut of physical ills
as well he did advocate chew
wing food (after taking small bites)
until mouthful became pulpy slew
(proponent of Fletcherism), this to
exercise dentures in addition
to maximize stew
pen diss experience of simple
routine eating view
wing thoroughly good (by George)
said quotidian activity grew
tubby spiritual, similarly basic
functions in general did get skew
ward whereby meditation on intrinsic,
metabolic and scholastic
processes to name a few
added a dimension of enhancement prior to
exiting life into frontier mortals can only rue.
Death is more indefinite its evident that we numbered in sequences of the virtual world
Sucked in by technology supply to be hacked and tracked trailed by the visitors studying our action and behavior waiting for an opening while in the end tips choice is created whether we want it or not replaced and added
Divide and subtract there is a number that needs to be controlled wishfully all man kind should responde one word answer
We barely can't even notice technically Tech took all and absorbed the only consumed resources just to minimize the population
As much as there are opportunity growth so are our days are as numbered
Clearly there is a hidden agenda that everyone fears to see
Nowadays there is no difference between fear and anxiety simply they apply both
Closing your eyes trying to contemplate dreams in your sleep What makes you think you won't wake up facing your image in tech ready to replace your life.
We are in grave danger humanity itself its proven its excellence. We have more regrets and mistakes that are permanent
Which in tech world can be identified and replaced into perfection in this imperfect world
How do we know they not walking amongst us as we speak
Violeting the creation made
Selectively we are dying its a game indeed only this time there are no rewards
How do we know if Earth hasn't been closed yet and all the copies "supposedly" to lead and live by perfection already departed to Mars living is already in process
How do we know we only left with self distraction man kind to execute us
It happened before back in the days world wide there were races that were "concluded" as the inferior race
And that race was executed day light directly
What stops them in doing the same cycle but this time indirectly with tech more especially
Tech is the only facinating creation that burns the youth's brain
Being unable to think individually using the brain as a Powerade
There is so much questionable events occurring during this present time
We daily poisoned by everything including food
There is no denying the true colours of this world its marked and painted to be erased.
Ash N.N
I’ve been stuck on the back of your mind for years
Trying to develop a pattern that is within your thought process
See you were my first project..
Not that I had any other options, but I was kind of indirectly assigned to you
Funny thing is that you might not ever know because I have different identities
You see I’ve been trying to develop a relationship with you
Something sort of secretive because if I told you then your mind would not be able
to comprehend
I mean your mind is my best friend so I guess that makes me part of your cerebrum
In a way I AM a part of your thought process
Sometimes you meet me, and sometimes you don’t
What I’ve done is watch your actions grow but not you yourself
Trying to play (beanie mean my-knee Moe) with your emotions to see which ones to
play tag with
Your decisions expand but your reasoning seems to diminish over time
You tend to act upon emotion but not motion itself
See I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve watched all of your mistakes
Desperately SCREAMING at you so that I can prevent another one from happening
I’ve been trying to stop the influences that bring you in circles…….
I am the one who’s been telling you right from wrong and sometimes left…you
between the ups and downs
My voice has been keeping you from committing verbal suicide, and going on a
mental pause
It is my voice that has been stopping you from messing with those people, in that
place, with those things, at the same price with the pace of a million nothings
It is I who has been telling you from the start to never trust what you can’t believe
in but also act within reason
But yet like always you ignore me…
You neglect my advice and the paths that I try to lead you on
You tell yourself things as if to mimic my existence
Often times you would feel good about your decisions but I will always be knocking
on your door
You have been close to reaching a point where everything makes sense
Where you have analyzed things and pick them apart so nothing seems out of the
ordinary
But you ignore that little sense of reasoning and then dust it away with ignorance
I am........... your conscience
.
Form:
Words and words and more words.
Talking and talking, all talking,
to be convinced for the untrue.
Air blown by people,
creating breezes and winds,
social winds that is, even storms,
but you have a life to live, go, go ahead,
against the winds, weather them.
We'll make you roads and bridges...........
two for one if you buy now............
she is more time out of her house, after midnight than in..........
killers kill while you're watching............
you won't believe it for him............
buy Blir we made it for you.
Never let the air stop on your chest,
you fall, let the air go around you,
advance against the winds.
One foot in front, to advance forward,
the other back, to hold against the forces,
then, let the one on the back, go to the front,
and let the other back, to resist,
one, two, one, two, so simple,
you have learn it long ago under protection,
with arms around you,
one moment laughed, next cried,
but you stood up, and kept going,
now use it, alone, it's the same.
Life is to coexist, communicating and exchanging minds.
Their very importance is fooled, if most of received and understood is hoax.
People talk and blow air, mostly flows around like breeze,
but can also become wind.
Concerned about people's blabs,
to convince you for the untrue,
is like walking against the winds,
the social winds of promises and offers.
Don't stay at the same place
waiting for breezes and winds to stop,
they never stop, it is socialities from
politicalnullties and commercialnullties,
medianullties and goblins and little people,
it's their agony for their wasted lives,
their dispear that they don't know how to live their lives,
animals do it too, see them in the zoos,
you don't understand a sound.
Breathe from different 'airs', but always filtered,
and let it go around, don't stop the air,
if you do, it's like they live on you, it's like you feed them,
don't let it stop around you, can't afford the odors.
Since you can't touch the invisible air, and you only sense it,
how you're going to stop it by way of force,
confront it indirectly, with your senses.
so much precious existence
found me rooted with mouth ajar
as sigh asper the dentin-cementum
so mud dear reader (with dem perfect
enameled pearly whites), aye har bar
envy for those with a complete set
of eight incisors, four cuspids (i.e. canines),
eight bicuspids, and twelve molars
(including four wisdom teeth) tabulating
many hours in the car (engendering
saddle sore bony tuckus)
plus regarding chunk whereat,
pernicious cementum funk
viz distraught psyche, when muss self as a lil monk
key decades after being examined
by family dentist Doctor Marcus (NOT WELBY),
excellent practitioner (button irate pulp pill
people ' especially children) eater – the grump,
whose private practice located
in Levittown, Pennsylvania,
and when prepubescent underwent
pertinent more explicit focused
intense noninvasive procedures
asper subsequent cause of speech impediment
determined why air didst jump
thru nostrils, (speech therapist at Henry Kline Boyer),
neither thin nor plump
informed parents
of Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic –
fifty plus miles one direction),
where chief prosthodontist
Doctor Mohammad N. Mazaheri, DDS, an Iranian
whose expert reputation, sans strict manner didst trump
his aura, karma evincing clipped commands
forceful as a vocal whump
before launching into meat and potatoes
of crux comprising real aim
constituting modus operandi
(and cresting away from details indirectly tide
into main intent, nobody aye blame)
for thine dental debacle quandary
(managed by gumshun,
whereby eons hyperbolically toted beyond google),
and despite the optimistic stance
wool worth anesthetized numb skull claim
nascent malocclusion faintly affecting,
hinting, pointing toward Periodontitis
(despite diligence attending to oral hygiene frame)
the manifestation of major looming crisis compromising,
forgoing, instigating, et cetera loss of teeth,
this (after agony in league with separate occasions
twice wearing braces, concomitant Extractions
of wisdom and removal of crowdsourcing –
closeup toward the front of mouth teeth - game