Long Labourers Poems
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We are the workers, call us
an hour before an absent fill shift
The pyramid sprouts atop of
The heavy depths of broad ordinary,
Breadth mopped and swept
Silent cogs push motion
Everywhere, rarely heralded
Carpet of field mice scrambling
Part of the pattern, crucial
Expectations remain ingrained
Pith of the fruit, flavour generic
Bolster of bricks protects
Lighthouse of blinding brains
Scratching hand to steerhouse
Tightening bolts, scrubbing deck
Nugget behind their high shine
We are the labourers, casual pay
covers days not at work, sticking
To meagre styles, life defined
By the hemming, wage stemmed
- Can't afford to ask questions
Surge of activity, pothole filled
Inhibited by flurry, imagination aside
Menial smooths the cement
Minimum makes no plans
beyond next week, when, - if
I have a job. We will do any dirty
Demeaning chore, and thank you for
Your grace in giving it to us
6th August 2020
It Sucks - Contest
Kai Michael Neumann - Sponsor
Once I was thinking of building a shopping plaza, just along the Gaza strip
But those Israeli's being what they are I thought my sales could take a dip
So, I thought I'd build a set of tunnels, starting from just beneath my feet
The guy from Hamas came and thought my tunnel plans looked quite neat
I employed a load of freeloading Egyptian labourers I got 'em on the cheap
I paid ‘em with unwanted skull caps and a load of knocked off kosher meat
We built a cafe' serving up falafel and played loud music to cover up the din
And, it must have worked as the locals never seemed to have heard a thing
Took us over 3 months to reach the darn Israelis wall of concrete and steel
Damn; if they were not waiting for us, shouting, are you lot for flippin’ real
They sent all of us back to Gaza; with a rocket launcher up everyone's ass
Shouting; you ain't getting in here sunshine’s, not without a flaming’ pass
The Egyptians were not very happy, but hey that's not so unusual for them
Thinking of employing us to build another tunnel, well, you can think again
We then all arrived back at the Syed café; just to find, it had shut up sharp
Apparently; there had been a 100% sale on down at the bazaar super mart
The Egyptians; looking a ghostly white from months of working in the dust
Suddenly disappeared; they had all absconded outta here, on the local bus
Sitting on a dusty chair down at the Syed cafe; I watched as Gaza did burn
While totting up the jukebox to the sounds of, The House of the Rising Sun
O' a Palestinians’ lot, is not a happy lot, of this, you can be more than sure
Just ask anyone from Farah to Beit Hanoun, they all know the bloody score
The guy from Hamas reappeared, saying those tunnel plans looked quite neat
Have a thousand unwanted skull caps, and a load of knocked off kosher meat
Well, the Palestinians’ lot, is not a happy lot, but in the end we will not be beat
So I opened a local vendor stall, just a stone's throw at the bottom of my street
Selling a thousand unwanted skull caps and a load of knocked off kosher meat
Lulling the days when a guy from Hamas thought my tunnel plans looked neat
My gift for you is blessing so wondrous
grant I likewise received from God, awesome
worth sharing toward spirit prosperous
with kind prayer for well-being, wholesome.
Well-wrapped with the Lord’s love, precious indeed
my gift for you offers grace, truth, mercy
bringing revival of soul, truly freed
along blissful peace and blest ecstasy.
Viewing eternity with you in mind
while in divine partnership we work now
my gift for you is stewardship-designed
in the fulfillment of ministry vow.
Sealed with the Master’s stamp of approval
midst fellow-labourers’ favoured gesture
grateful am I for your faith-upheaval…
my gift for you is Bible adventure.
Toward wisdom-height for functional gain
study well with godly illumined role
then keep reaching-out, letting love to reign…
trusting the Almighty in every goal.
*2Corinthians 9:15 Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.
July 3, 2021
1st place, "A Brian Strand July 10" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 7/10/2021.
Little Santa Helpers
Santa has outsourced his services to child labourers from Bangladesh they
fit zero-sized through chimneys much easier and the leaner they are the
better they share full of joy in the globalised feast of winter communion
Detached they are from ‘wrongful’ beliefs and so much happier for their distant
faithful relation to Christmas plus they are used to half naked toil with
loin cloths draped in native design and fig-leafed in the wider scheme of migrant
extortion minimum wage wasted on them but they might get some
tips from little children on other sides of divides if those can catch them in glee
But then there are milk ‘Ho Ho Beer’ and biscuits by the fireplace laced with
incense and Prozac not licensed for young ones maybe but the booze as willing
sign of cross-culturalization is surely inclusive and a Peace offering sponsored by
‘Alcohol Without Borders’ while the odd trace of Ritalin keeps ordered control
Santa is not really burnt out but neo-liberal delegation is the vogue of the month
and post traumatic stress drones and hoovers on his sick note nevertheless
as his bonuses and shares float on Panamanian waters and now he needs a lungi
as well instead of the red coat extra large without doubt as he burps in the sand
The Bangladeshis meanwhile chirp in silent frost bitten nights but at least there
are soot and ashes no sunburn sometimes carrots with broom sticks thereafter
almost a year of ‘social’ benefits homely rest recuperation free time for Mohamed
They scrub brush and sand their dehydrated skins by the Ganges until they come
to accept the ‘Terms of their Trade’ bow to diversity’s splendour and discern what
is dirt and what their skin colour and it’s the latter that keeps them employed
28th November 2016
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Keep it up! Congratulations!!!
Service to God is number one
Yielding fruits of commendations.
With the Lord's strength as girding might
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Radiating life-building's bright light
Exemplified by God's great Son.
Designed perfection had begun
Masterpiece upon faith-venture
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Thru divine nature and nurture.
Model of utmost excellence
Paragon's best for everyone
Labourers' diligent silence
Shovels' scraping shows work well done*.
*Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
March 12, 2019
A country in Africa's kaleidoscope of culture,
Unique and blessed, with natural and human riches to nurture.
Roles blur, names defy convention's might,
Husbands are "Baby," sons are "Daddy," in this whimsical sight.
Saturdays are sacred for weddings' joyful sound,
Car keys and iPhones float, pocketless, without a bound.
Relatives rush to bury, but shy from business aid,
A paradox of priorities, in this land of ironic trade.
Egusi soup in ice cream containers, a culinary surprise,
Dogs named "Tiger," barbers' false promises, in compromising guise.
Married men lament cheating girlfriends, a twisted web,
DETERGENT is OMO, noodles are INDOMIE, in this land of branding's ebb.
In this land of contradictions, "yahoo boys" are condemned,
Yet secretly adored, their ill-gotten gains, a guilty pleasure to amend.
"Pen robbers" wear suits, masks of respect,
Called "honourables" by day, their true selves, neglected.
Labourers toil, with sweat and tears, yet no fruits to show,
Branded "lazy youth", their struggles, nobody knows.
Altar robbers are "clergy", "men of God", or "god of men",
A title to conceal, a web of deceit, a game of pretence.
One medicine cures all, a panacea's promise, or so it's claimed,
Alhaji for the rich, Aboki for the poor, a title's weighted game.
Youthful locks turn white, elderly hair turns black,
Africa, a land of wonder, where contradictions create and participate.
A joy giver to the world, Africa's essence shines so bright,
A land of laughter, tears, and beauty, in all its complex light.
I love this country, in all its quirky, lovable, and mystifying charm,
Guess the country that captivates, defies, yet charms.
Big Job
There's a big job breaking out
Time for smelling salts and focus
There is no magic wand this time
No top-hat hocus pocus
Time to wheel out heavy gear
Flex our muscles and get busy
Pick ourselves a loyal team
With dreams so high they're dizzy
There's a big job breaking out
And it's clear we need to fix this
Sticking plasters just won't do
For this world defining crisis
Labourers to garden,
Experts in their field
Anyone who cares enough
To bring this crop to yield
Shoulder to the grindstone
Knuckles cracked and ready
Wrestle with the challenges
And climb to heights so heady
Engineers and carpenters
Housewives, teachers, leaders
No time to waste. No shirking off.
Ask everyone to heed us
There's a big job breaking out
Blue lights are flashing by
Too much plastic in the ocean
No more ozone in the sky..
We need healers for creation
For neglecting all our duty
The reflection may be ugly
So it's time to bring back beauty
Jinjagoliath
10th February 2021
If we could teach the world, one thing
it should not be, the price of string
the microwave and why it pings
the endless list, of English kings
the dynasty, of Chinese Ming
the mystery, of golden rings
the history, of Western Swing
No
absolutely none of these things
with all the distraction they would bring
if we could teach the world one thing
we need everybody to stop
we need everyone to listen and look
to hear the little bird that sings
and watch it flap its tiny wings
If we could teach the world one thing
we'll show those people how to dream
above the crazy sounds and scenes
to find all the hope and all the joy
that our imagination just might bring
If we could teach the world one thing
maybe somehow we could learn
the power of ideas, the power of ideals
with courage, decency, justice and truth
from all of those who walked before
Dorchester Labourers, Doctor King
women who did amazing things
in science, politics, literature and more
if we could teach the world one thing.
Arise oh compatriot
The call for change never change
In our era here in Africa
Same voice same particular people
The chants for better days never stop
Same community same poor people’s
The protest for better wages never ends
Same labourers same youths same people
The failed system bad effects never stop coexisting among the common man’s daily life
Same men same issues same people
This kinds of situations attracts uprising
Among same places same countries same people
No wonder the youths no longer obey the old men no more this era
Everyone struggling by disobedience
Regardless the precaution
I wonder what kind of time we are moving towards
With same situations same pains same problems
Honestly tomorrow looks red instead of blue for the future of
Same youths same citizens same people
Hopefully with all the failed era the time is getting sooner for a take over
Who knows cos it is what is always is
The handwriting is not written only on the walls alone this era
It is written more on the faces of the hungry youths so
arise oh compatriot
The Harvest Is Plenteous*
Written: by Miracle Man
1-9-2020
In chasing filthy lucre, notoriety, or fame,
We allow these to take us out of God’s game.
We accumulate earthly goods, all timely spaced,
And in this pursuit, allow God, to be displaced.
But nothing in life comes without affixed cost,
Shouldn’t we be witnessing, trying to win the lost?
Of what importance are earthly things we pursue?
When the harvest is plenteous but laborers are few.
As I look at prophecy I believe time is short,
Until God’s declares time finished and HE’LL abort.
Don’t let other things suck the air from the room,
But watch and pray for the return of the groom.
*Matthew 9:37
“Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few;”