Long Innocents Poems
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"Death In The Streets”
By Stark Hunter
Oh Cabman! Please take me up to 42nd street!
I got a show at six, and lines to learn.
Bessie, May and Tiny are singing “The Holy Roller Burn.”
Sinister creeps silently peep into apartment windows
At the naked fannies of mom’s little girls!
Hershey bar delimma —
Tapped phones on the rampage!
Invading the homes of Yesterday’s innocents — Look!
I see the specter of death
Flying high in the black of night!
Oh Mother! You could’ve warned me!
Oh Mother! Why all the death in the streets?
Death in the streets Mother,
Blood in the gutter Mother,
Why all the death in the streets?
Nacho cheese surprise — Look!
On the corner of the sink.
Tootsie Rool casserole – The tops!
So the experts think.
Catholic diligence mindlessly walking the dog!
Oh awaken slumbering ones!
In the land of Magog!
Through dark alleys they squirm in waiting.
Oh Mother! You could’ve warned me!
Oh Mother! Why all the death in the streets?
Death in the streets Mother,
Blood in the gutter Mother,
Why all the death in the streets?
Form:
I do not want to turn on the radio because I do not want to hear about more Palestinians starving in Gaza
I do not want to satisfy the growling in my stomach because I do not want to feel full when so many perish, even as food deteriorates at locked boarders
I do not want to watch television because I do not want to see the calamity of weaponized famine
Yet
my ears can not unhear
my hunger can not go unsatisfied
my eye can not unsee
the brutal horror of vengeance
unchecked
I dare not tune out the collective moans of a starving nation
I dare not think of my momentary lack when so many have suffered to the bone
I dare not watch when
targeted aggression goes awry
and innocents die
and the Red Crescent is no longer a symbol of piece, but a target for chaos and destruction
No I will not watch the world watch,
in silence
BEBOP BLUES Dedicated verse for Delores Matthews-
How do ya! Do Rebop blues
Them there, tied up shoes
Crampin’ my style rebop blues
Like a misbehaved child
While far away
Them their prey
On the innocents
Of the human frails
So sad, ain’t no way mad
Souls glad, B renewed
N them rebop blues
Angry disarrayed
Purposely arrayed
How you do, what cha’ choose
Bebop blues
So closed
Let loose
Striding lies
On the innocents
Angry disarrayed
Purposely arrayed
So sad
So mad
How do ya! Do Rebop blues
Them there, tied up shoes
Crampin’ my style rebop blues
Like a misbehaved child
Chorus:
Jazzin' N Jivin on a Saturday night, feelin' oh so right
The rhythm's swingin' sweetly, the vibe is oh so tight
Rebop blues in the air, groovin' without a care
The trumpet's wailin', the piano's sailin', in a musical affair
Midnight groove, in the city blues
Lost in the moment, no time to lose
Re, re, re, re, reRebop Blues
Ya, ya, ya, yah can’t loose
When ya choose Rebop Blues
Saxophone cryin', drums keep tryin'
In the heart of the night, the music's flyin'
The bass is walking slow, the guitar starts to flow
A symphony of soul, where the spirits all know
Rebop blues whisper softly, secrets in the air
Melodies intertwining, in a jazzy love affair
Bebop blues
09/3/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2024©
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
Sat a heartbroken maiden full of sorrow.
So sorrowful was she that the veil she wore
Was full-wet and soggy as never before.
I knew not the lass, nor from where she had come,
But the sound of her sobs set my heart athrum
So into the grove where the pomegranates grow,
I hurried astumble with sweat on my brow.
I reached the fair lady - she looked up alarmed,
I gently assured her she wouldn't be harmed.
More soothings I uttered to make her at ease,
And gently inquired what so disturbed her peace.
She looked deep in my eyes - I thought I would die,
The words on lips gibbered and wouldn't come by .
Mighty deep were the limpid pools of her eyes,
Drew my soul under, my words were but sighs.
Her eyes said it all, nothing more need be said-
T'was clear she was mourning for her love who was dead.
All that I gathered in a moment of time,
Don't ask me how for there's no reason or rhyme.
I felt my blood drain and knees to jelly turn,
The real and unreal I could not discern.
My reasoning all gone my vision was blurred,
A sigh that was deep and her burden transferred.
Outside the city where grow the pomegranates,
Lie row on row of headstones caskets and crates.
For here lie the wicked, the good and the rest,
Some died in their sleep, but many not so blest.
Some souls here do wander in search of their loves,
And prey on innocents in pomegranate groves.
What kind of world will we leave for our children,
one that is shackled in hate?
Tying their hands in the wake of the future,
sealing the edge of their fate.
Killing of innocents minding their business,
filling the shadows with fear.
What is the plan to relieve all this worry,
now that it’s already here?
Why is it right that we turn against neighbors
just for the clothing they wear?
The color of skin and the faith they believe in,
did we forget how to care?
Racism churned from the bellies of monsters,
pointing their fingers in blame
When will they learn that we’re in this together,
regardless of language or name?
Why do we hide always ducking for cover,
waiting this terror to cease?
When we can stand up like sister and brother
walking together in peace.
We are all people who live on this planet,
being the best we can be.
It’s up to us what we leave for our children. . .
why not a world that is free?
Old Glory’s at half-mast today.
I wonder who just passed away?
Was it a hero from some battles past?
A dead leader whose influence lasts?
Were servicemen killed overseas,
Or humanitarians died fighting a disease?
Seems most of the time I don’t know why
The Colors only at half-mast fly.
More and more it seems to be
The flag’s mourning some local tragedy:
A lunatic shooter with a gun or rifle
Killed innocents for some reprisal;
Or people contemplating suicides
Go out committing multiple homicides.
I think the worst is killing schoolchildren.
Will this obscene madness never end?!
Does strife constrain me from thoughts of your mind?
Does it impede my mind's-eye image of you?
Even with my circumscribed point of view
I know this,—that you're of most gracious kind.
A poet and a mentor, you remind
me of a lost faith in what's pure and true,
ideals once held by me and by the few
that all the innocents have left behind.
So, Anja, I laud you as a brother
with these well-chosen lines from this sonnet;
please esteem them (as you would your mother)
as if your very joy depends on it.
A lodestar and guide, you have earned my love
like the Bard whose muse came down from above.
In essence the unconscious mind,
Reveals all knowledge for mankind.
To pursue dreams, each vision brings,
Then soar above the earth on wings.
We navigate uncharted shores,
In oceans deep, mankind explores.
Now Astronauts walk on the moon,
And vaccines keep us all immune.
While seeking methods,to ensure,
Research disease to find a cure.
Now if we want to travel far,
There's railways, aeroplanes, or car.
Some might say, it's so much finer
Cruising on an ocean liner.
Or any time we are alone,
Our friends can call by mobile phone.
And television let's us share,
Events worldwide, in our armchair.
We speak with words for to converse,
But language sometimes can be terse.
In truth some minds are always blind,
With grandeur of a certain kind.
As mankind shows his cruel face,
Destroying life, to his disgrace.
By wars that escalate unchecked,
Whilst innocents, their lives are wrecked.
For Peacemakers, they clutch at straws,
To find someway to end those wars.
Their supreme efforts are in vain,
No changing minds of those insane
It seems that only peace can be,
In virtual reality.
4/22/2016.
For the Innate Magnetism poetry contest.
Sponsor. Unseeking Seeker.
Date of contest end.
Friday November 11th 2022.
Armistice Day of Remembrance.
.
Black cloaked is this monster
Horned beast of the dark
Preying on life's innocents
Leaves them stripped to stark
Their souls he devours
Sweetness, he helps himself
By sharing porcelain skins of delight
And casts them on life's shelf
Tasting thee he summons
His conquest, this maiden, she
In consume she takes her master
Before he's taken me
Below earth's moon
We writhe in pleasured sow
His demonic pulse I feel
Life's end now starts to grow
My eyes begin to close
Eclipsed against fading light
Used, spent and motionless
Another disappears from sight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-10.php
Northern Ireland, it was a peaceful Saturday of August 15,
1998. There were many people shopping in the center of
Omagh, in Tyrone. Then, at 3:10 p.m., the car bomb
exploded close to the junction of Market Street and the
Dublin Road. The bomb, the murderous bomb, the
life taker ripped into the flesh, the existence of 29 people,
men, women, children, including 2 unborn babies. It
injured 220.
Britain's PM Tony Blair, Marjorie Mowlam, the Secretary
of State Northern Ireland, Mary McAleese, President of
the Republic of Ireland, Bernie Aherne, the taoiseach
Irish PM, all condemned this slaughter of humanity.
The Irish National Liberation Army called itself the "real"
IRA, claimed responsibility. They had slain God's own.
I dreamt of the Troubles, as mournful Celtic music
slowly played in my sorrowed psyche. Blood on the
shamrocks as the bombing victims still tell their story.
In my daydreams, children's choirs sing-
"When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" in many other areas of
the world, in the merriment of children's goodness.
Death should not collect especially the young, the hopes
of all of Ireland's youth, including Northern Ireland.
These days gang violence has made more shamrocks
bleed, as the gangs murder each other's dreams.
All of the emerald beauty's Troubles cannot fade into
history without the names of the innocents, and their
blood will not disappear. The tears of generations of
her people, her mourners, in every one of her rainfalls.
And I, an American of both Irish and British heritage,
grieve for her too. ~