Long Its business Poems
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Lives of saints had thrilled me, like suspense-filled stories,
Churches around, in litanies, sang their glories;
Isn't to be one of them I was called in birth?
How come, in life's course, crept in spiritual dearth...?
I chose the world - its marvelous modernity,
Its colors allured me, as though eternity;
What fool, if given palace, choose a hut instead?
Who would favour thorns in place of blossom bedspread...?
When did in me, who's born pure soul, ego enter?
When and why has it made me its business center?
Aren't home and kith specks of universality?
Shouldn't grace clothe all in garb of totality...?
Saints and sages fled far off fulfilling duties,
Within heart of beauties they found true booties;
Fullness in full flows from fullness of God's nature,
Feature of each creature is his rare signature...!
Like stream from mountains my humility should flow,
Virtues, like million diamonds in sunshine, glow;
I should govern my ego lest it governs me,
Like saints, in purity, infinite realms to see...!!!
02 November 2022
I am a butler to my cat.
And I head to the bathroom.
But why is it that
Whenever I open the bathroom door,
My cat is always standing there, guarding me?
0 and 1.
When eyes are closed, I am not seen;
When eyes are opened, I appear.
Could it be that my cat has already mastered
The profound secrets of quantum mechanics?
Do not argue with me!
Just as a cat is at its most vulnerable when doing its business,
It knows its butler is just as vulnerable, too.
It is standing guard to protect me.
The cat is always by my side.
“Aeyong—”
In this single, tiny cry,
The entire providence of the universe is contained!
Therefore, remember!
Even when you pass away, take that cat's cry with you into the afterlife!
Even within your stilled, lifeless heart,
That sacred voice will never vanish!
Authors Note: Warning! If you are a serious person do not continue reading this. If you expose this poem to direct sunlight it might remain the same or become a little warmer. You have been warned.
Too heavy for the sky
Dirigibles collide with clouds
Filled with bricks, concrete in nature
Crazy birds walk home having missed their flight
Still alive, dreaming of reality
Why waste time on thinking?
Why are there no traffic signs in heaven?
Why is there so much blue in the sky?
If people were meant to fly they would not
Sleeping in the park is much more rewarding
Ask the pigeon perched on a statue of Lincoln
Doing its business like a religion
Five Shades of Anthracite
Triads of black white and grey in the middle colour in above and out within
Five silhouettes a passion play mix shadows dancing in the moonlit night
work art and framework on the vertical horizon of ecliptic thought’s array
Alchemy casts precious golden sculptures in the feeling fondness wisdom’s
mind tending to its business slow and fast evolving rainbow’s kairos white
Five shades blend into one reasoned action intuited perception truth reality
embodiment beholding earth wind fire water aired in carbon gilded nuances on
the journey’s crested prism’s holograms when three plus two engraves infinity
They overtone refinement’s overture into the pentagon from anthracite to gold
by way of any tinted tingle unadulterated quintessential and concerted meaning
13th September 2016
Day dawned dank grey.
Sky pre-washed to ashen, cuddled in.
Cats on tippy-toes dipped their toes in puddles
stalking prey, huddled to pause, slumbering in.
Birds ruffled dew drop spots from feathers,
distracted to pause their prattle tattle calls
by the gloom of low slung clouds engulfing the din.
The dank cupped hands of horizon clouds
called for hush in prayer
to say grace with the morning gathering, all misted-in in fog.
The dewy gossamer mist turned to gentle rain,
almost embarrassed
to fall with pitter-patter plinks and plops
echoing from puddles, leaves and panes.
The shower done with its drenching, quenching drizzle,
passed overhead
and curtain-called the sun to get up,
to stand to attention,
and to herald the day
to get on with its business.
"Business As Usual"
I keep saying to myself I''m a M.O.B.
I choose my friends cautiously
and on the account of fallin in love
It sure did cost me
so now I ask myself, do you still believe its just business.
When your on ya knees asking for forgiveness
where God's the only witness this white America needs
either someone's dropping you knowledge
or your being deceived
being naive or taking heed
waking up every morning
not knowing where the next day could lead
doctor's pumping on ya chest talking bout breath
just another adrenaline rush
ashes to ashes dust to dust
in this cold world for a black male overcoming is a must
this is God's world and their ain't never
been a such thing as luck
this is the life I'm living where I'm drowning in a bloody pool
but I keep telling myself its business as usual
Being disconnected..
A disconnection of everything
A spark of electricity along with its juice..
Makes a connection..
Wires are all connecting to different connections..
Sparks are flying everywhere..
A perfect connection ignites..
Feeling disconnected..
A disconnection of people, places and things..
Bombarded by faulty wiring..
Perhaps my inside wires are not able to ignite..
The wires are not doing its business..
Once there was juice..
Once there were sparks flying everywhere..
A need to mend my faulty wiring.
To apply a band aid to the painful disconnection..
Will it cover and mask the healing process?
Healing the wounds of disconnection..
A broken disconnection needs mending..
As I ponder in the moment of what lies ahead..
A visualization of a massive connection..
With all of my entire being..
A high jolt and charge of electricity..
Captured and stored within myself..
An act of empowerment in visualization..
I feel a Incredible charge of empowerment..
I shall indeed connect the wires .
Juices flowing..
It ignites
Sparks are now flying everywhere
Faulty wiring shall cease to exist..
Healing rises..
Connected I am..
I have risen..
Risen to a massive connection..
New Year and Sex
So, already many things happened to Pele, the great Brazilian footballer
died but was crowned the king of Brazil for all time.
Closer to home Ronaldo the super footballer feels resentful and thinks
he is grumpy not being admired enough tells us he has won
everything there is to win in Europe, and now he is off to win more in Arabia
Ronaldo never understood the difference between love and self-love.
Little Messi wears his Bisht, not being wordy and says nothing.
Christianity is no longer relevant, a new faith that unites the world
is a balloon flying in the air, and a zero-sum game ensures that every
team wins once in a while.
The war in Ukraine rumbles on, helped by the USA, like nothing better
enticing the bear using NATO as bait.
Terror cedes of the nuke stupid people think it cannot be that bad if
one sits in the shade indoors, and the bomb falls somewhere else
the rich know better have caves deep in tunnels with canned food and
tin openers.
The newborn baby struggles to find its feet, but the world is shy, hopes
to make it a year, what comes after is not its business.
Remnants of a past, are remembered, in the night on the second day was
full of intense sexual images so painful he got
up and drank water, bewildered he was, but his work-horse stabled
in the barn of diabetes and old age, what his feelings desired, the horse
refused to obey.