Long Innocence Poems
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FIDEL Castro! the Diablo of Life succumbs to Death
Castro! the devil’s advocate
orchestrated hooligans.
Kept a destructive quest.
Turned a civil nation chaotic.
Death, destruction, and demoralizing tactics
Fell tears through the land.
Millions of cries hit the skies over Cuba.
This a cry that would never stop.
Endless shouts for mercy keeps climbing to God .
The terrifying Diablo lassoed hate into the children
and grew generations that altered this beautiful land.
This a man with demonic eyes.
He squeeze the air out of their lungs,
Without chains they were in chains.
burnt the innocence,
strangles those who oppose,
and drilled fear in the land.
Castro the Diablo of lives even in death.
© Al. Juman The "said" Poet 11/27/2016
Under Glaring lights visions of my mind blurred and hazed
Of Mom's running in circles, Dad's trapped in a maze_
Living the same cycles of life, refusing to change their ways.
Lil sister and bro's facing harsh growing pains__
realize hard work don't guarantee profitable gains.
Rate race moving too fast, everyone's driving so crazed_
Fearful of being the last or beaten down to a daze.
I'm standing still, where my sweat and tears fell__
~under the broken street light with my story to tell.~
knee deep in the blood... of my wishing well
If the streetlights could talk, what a story they'll tell__
big dreams fall through cracks... when monkeys ride your back.
~Under the broken streetlight with my story to tell_~
Standing knee deep in the blood... of my wishing well
I Try to decide__ if Here's where my innocence died__
My purity's lost; so its’ death's Bon-a-fide.
~Under the broken streetlight with my story to tell_~
Big dreams fall through cracks__ with each reality slap
stakes were raised; against me, cards were stacked.
Life's demands got out of hand_ so I made daring plans__
Got outdone by a con man, had no chance so I ran
In jail did we land; first time out, first grandstand
Of good luck we craved, yet of fate were depraved.
Enslaved victims of the narrow road we’d paved
****Continue to part II....
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye
Yet, on winds aloft, Envy’s cursed seed.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
The fertile soil beguiles, rooting on the sly.
Black veils of mistrust tinting each good deed!
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Despair rides the rails without alibi
Gaining companions, divided by greed.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
Privilege and fame, an Icarus sky
Blinds my soul, I turn from truth before me;
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Honor’s reward illusive, cry or try.
Bind me to my conscience, with chains I plead.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
If submit we will, our death awaits neigh.
We will to Envy’s sour fruit concede.
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
Contest Entry: A MAJOR WORLD PROBLEM
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Submitted: 4/29/21
Placing: 8th
It’s that time of year again.
You feel their excitement for weeks.
Their plotting and planning.
Their minds changing then changing back.
The face paint.
The adjustments.
I need to sew.
That’s ok.
It’s worth it.
To see their little faces so innocent and free.
Their eyes twinkling and happy.
Pretending to be someone else or something else.
Not themselves, not tonight.
Going out at night so naughty and nice.
Door to door we go.
Each time their smiles and giggles anew.
Warm me against this October cold.
In their face’s the innocence of youth.
This night is about pretending.
Before the horror of reality sets in.
Gracious old stone homes, lofty rooms full of nooks and crannies
Snoe-white linen and antimacassars embroidered by our grannies
Cool wide verandahs, wrought-iron lacework draped with wisteria
Old fashioned cooking smells wafting from the kitchen, the hub of the interior
A grandfather clock ticking in the hall
Horses hooves on cobblestones, at each house they used to call
Sweetly perfumed gardens, fruit trees, shrubs, and fragrant flowers
Winding paths that lead to nowhere and a swing to while away the hours
Old stone laundry where the weekly wash was done
Spotless clothes and billowing sheets bleached by the summer sun
Sounds of a piano, or a wireless
Children playing in a nearby lane, seemingly tireless
Neighbours in their gardens, chatting over the fence
Everything in Grandma's day had an air of innocence
I feel so nostalgic now in this age of technology
If I could have a choice, I know where I should love to be
In a gracious old stone home
With rooms full of nooks and crannies
Cool wide verandahs and fragrant garden,
Exactly like my Grannies
While we were sleeping
Snug in our beds
Lost in our dreams
A black spirit stole across the land
And by dawn had merged with every shadow
When we awoke
We took for granted the lingering critical sensibility
- as if awaking with a hangover
from the spectacular successes and excesses
of our civilization –
And before our morning cup
Could clear our heads
Had embraced this dark spirit
With the fervor of the newly converted
Impulsively, compulsively taking yin to yang
As if reborn from our primal roots
But when civilization falls
And is abandoned
- and undermining eventually always leads to collapse –
What is left is tribalism
But without the innocence of its youth
And youth without innocence
Is just tyranny without conscience
Shadow without form
Woke won because we became soft and sloppy
Ungrateful and guilty for all the pleasures and abundance
The hard work of Life bestows
(5/6/23)
10-31-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three Legged Table
Above the polished face of the petite gueridon
A crystal chandelier sparkles in dreamy hues
As one candlestick flickers in perfume,
One red rose dreams of minuets,
Upheld by gilded caryatides of innocence,
Draped maidens and daughters of Athens,
In salons where graceful reveries
Twirl in graceful circles
Around the teapoy’s edge.
Unmasked rhapsodies
Shimmer with the indelible mystery
Of one fleeting ambrosia midnight,
Glowing in an amber flush of reflection
With bittersweet rondos,
Immanent in lacy silhouettes
Of dulcet invitation,
To swell in crescendos of shadows,
Dancing butterflies mirrored in the table’s face.
Why do we fear the privilege of ageing?
In the same life we rush to escape infancy,
How can we reject the concept of changing?
In the same life we trade innocence for puberty,
The false sense of comfort, being stuck in your ways,
Has it ever contributed to the length of your days?
Repetition seems tedious and ever mundane,
Yet the catalyst for progress, for growth and for gain,
A mind that bends will for the endurance of pain,
A body that glides through the spectrum of strain,
To love and to laugh is to live and be sane,
But the joy of summer days short lived without rain,
So why do we dwell in the realm of the past?
When the realm of the present and future is vast!
Some goals intangible, we may never see,
One... of which, is longevity.
who comes to pray at night but me?
walk these corridors half past three?
when conscience of man is sleep drowned,
when horror evil walks self crowned!
here I sat with my mum and dad,
many Sunday sermons we had,
messages of kindness, good deed,
avoid temptations, lust and greed!
lit candles, sang choirs, had blessings,
love’s purity in thanks givings!
why and where was that goodness lost?
how much does my innocence cost?
one evening on my way from school,
in innocence I broke a rule,
trusted stranger to drive me home,
unseen in darkness now I roam!
I pray for peace for mum and dad,
from evil man who made them sad!
in silence when this church is free,
who comes to pray at night but me?
aabb, ccdd, eeff, gghh, ccaa rhyme sequence
Written 16/12/2020
Good and Evil
The wicked reek of the devil;
“People are naturally good, not evil.”
In their world, God is dead
And Jesus’s death irrelevant.
Beyond the deception of oratory
That invokes susceptibility,
Historical evidence evokes rout.
Man is incorrigible without doubt.
The choice of souls for eternity
Stand between Calvary and uncertainty.
Reality will render precedence
Over conviction or innocence.
Life’s limits are predictable;
Death is inevitable.
The procrastinator shall envy
The forgiven sinner.
***
References:
Luke 18:19(NIV): “Why do you call me good?”
Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone…”
Romans 3:23(NIV): … “for all have sinned
and fall short of the glory of God,”