Long Leaders Poems
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I am where King David was born. My name means, “House of bread”.
I am located six miles south of Jerusalem; 262 miles northeast of Cairo, Egypt;
and 140 miles southwest of Damascus, Syria. When the Caesars ruled, all roads did not lead to me, but to Rome. But still, I’m easy to find.
I’m not the first in mind when one thinks of the Middle East. But the prophets spoke of me as the place where a Jewish Messiah would be born.
Centuries later, the Jewish leaders gave King Herod vital information about me that caused him more than a little concern.
It’s not always what or who you are, or whether you will ever become a star.
God has always known about me, and religious leaders were well aware.
No, I never became a star of any kind; but wise men came from afar and were led straight to me by a star.
Nay, my friend, it’s not the size that ushers one to a place of renown. But it’s who or what comes out of you that makes one more that just a little town.
O yes indeed. I am that Little Town of Bethlehem that made room for The Bright and Morning Star. Out of me came The Christ Child, Jesus Christ.
12162016cjPS; (An impersonation)
Whether we are great or small,
Kindness should be shown to all.
Our words of hate open our
Heart gates and we start to berate.
Our hatred of anyone is not
our shining hour.
And hating our own country or yet worse,
another country?
That makes us look sour, small
and arrogant.
With our prideful noses in the air,
we put down others and vent.
I have nothing against any country
nor do I down their leaders.
I don't live there, so what's with
the potent hate-o-meters?
I guess it's these lockdowns that
turn us into know it alls.
Stop doing that, or do you enjoy
seeing the successful, fall?
Think before you post!
What have you done personally
for humanity?
Ask yourself that before you
preen, boast and post!
And if your country you do not
like, best you leave it.
Count your blessings first, though,
before you even conceive it!
August 26, 2020
9:30am PST
(Read later stanzas for more of the humour part ; parody of politics)
I Can't think well of a democracy
if nepotism and false promises
are part and parcel of its idiosyncrasy
A system of governance can't appeal to me
if it forever stinks of the 'stinking' rich plutocracy.
The media the ravening wolves many times their puppets,
together they howl for our divided attention
With wily words to win the masses of marionnettes
The nation's welfare merely their scheme in pretension.
Wonder why political power has to be the monopoly
of ambitious, vainglorious affluent power moguls.
Why can't they simply choose leaders
from any sincere poor yet wise and humble individuals?
The promises of a better world by 'em' politicians
are simply the oratory tricks of slick tacticians.
Demagogues come in all shapes and sizes
They come in 'perfect' future leader disguises
Pulling you and me to polling booths, luring us the dumbstruck voters
To amass as much power and wealth as possible in their limited quotas.
No wonder poor presidents are turned or burned
in the form of their rude and crude effigy cartoons
Comic sarcastic politics I say, since a caricature
it purposely lampoons!
Then the demonstrations, remonstrations
but they only invite riots and tear bomb gas
So if yah can keep your rallies peaceful
maybe you won't be such an ass.
And if yah do go ahead ranting, panting, slogun chanting
No seeds of discord nor weeds of hate be sowing, planting
for a showdown with fleshy arms, no metal arms can still be prancing, advancing
With sloguns not shotguns be ye protesting and demanding.
Thus I really wonder if politicos politicking
really do make the world tick.
Or do they simply in many places cause
timebombs to parallel the clock's tick?
(ok cast d ballot n vote 4 me as funny presidential candidate
of no-man's land ;
It is that season again
When men are men
In the upper class ready to defend
Their social status as leaders
With innocent images of being sweeter
Finding ladies to be courted
Despite not being able to afford it
Girls flip the magazine pages
While their beaus make their wages
For one evening out
Acting mature looking good no doubt
They call it a formal dance where the chivalry carries the gentlemen lance
Escorting their ladies
Who were childhood mate tees
Filled with beauty talk they have that certain walk
Onto the dance floor
Innocent romance in store
Prom night is here and trying not to sneer
Since it is good bye to friends
After thirteen years together in one community of academic social mends
It is your stand, your plan to take command
Kids no more saying kindly adult hood open the door
Soft smiles and a touch of feather--
How warmly they hugged each other,
Smiles trying to shame dawn,
Veiled daggers all but drawn,
Hugs they were but of dress
Meant to impress the press,
Mouth playing a sweet bin,
Mean thoughts racing within,
E’en daggers laughed in draped leather.
Heedless still they hail on
Heavens, all world to con
With wry smiles and touch of feather.
_____________________
Happenings | 23.12.2025 | dawn, embrace/hug, humour, smile, limerick
Note: A lot of world leaders meet these days seeking a way out of the raging conflict--a lip service meant for digital eyeballs. The way they meet each other is full of drama as this limerick tries to convey.
The past is like a lesson book,
Into which those who are wise look.
The insights gained inform their view,
as they assess the current milieux.
The past we know is not too kind
To those who blot it from their mind
Or who ignore its clear insights,
and cling to falsehoods rimmed with lights.
As a nation at a breaking point,
deciding whom we should appoint
to lead in this tumultuous age
when people are so filled with rage.
Remember well what leaders say,
It is what gives their thoughts away.
Look closely too at what they do
It reveals their character too.
Beware of those who flout the law
and often weird conclusions draw.
Who seems to love dictators’ ways
and often seem to give them praise.
Remember what thought leaders said,
before fear seeped into their heads.
They spoke the truth about the man
Who at the time had very few fans.
History proved that they were right.
There were good reasons for our fright.
Remember those who would not bend,
Read carefully what they have penned.
When one is of a certain kind,
He does his best to save his hind.
The ones who now all stand behind
Want us to think, they’ve changed their mind.
One may fool some people some time,
Let all awake, this is the time.
Remember all the lies we’re told
by those who are so brash and bold.
He, who told his fans to fight
So, he could rule with pow ’r and might
The nation’s vote he tried to slight,
and left us with a brooding blight.
Remember January sixth,
let that date in your mind be fixed.
Heed history’s lesson loud and clear
Don’t believe all the hype you hear.
Fools ignore what is in clear sight
Then try to find it, in the night.
If we ignore her lessons, clear,
the past will greet us with a sneer.
In savage streets it’s hand to hand
once shrapnel rips the air that’s damned,
no sin of ego in this land.
Baptismal bloodshed echoes
through rust and rebar ghettoes.
There’s bullet swarms and rocket rain
but infantry must hit terrain,
forget I’m sane and rupture veins
with melee-trench-knife flashing,
the bane of peace doves, slashing.
I wear their red of death and drive
my blade abuzz in hellish hive
to stay alive! Yes stay alive!
The apathy of killing,
and twisting morals willing.
My heartbeat kept, a victory,
it pounds just like artillery
but prized, despite the misery.
A witness to destruction
and holy soul’s corruption
and christened by the selfishness
of presidents with negligence,
we soldiers march with evilness.
The narcissistic leaders,
the preachers and the breeders
of rhythmic spates in drumbeat hate
unfurl their nation flags and fate
in bloodlust war… while heads of state
stay combat clean in bunkers.
I witness gurgling utters
your last and bloody gasp for “mama”.
I grasp with greed my breath in chest.
Thought ricochets inside my skull;
I’m still alive! I'm still alive! I'm still alive . . .
A graduate with no future
A promise was made from the start
It was with words of hope
We felt a future filled with prosperity
From the hope we had with this words
That was the motivation
We gave all our hearts minds and energy
We spent long years building up with the
Lessons based from this words
The schools was the only camp and
There was the chosen ones to teach us
From class to class
Level to level
University to office
There is always this chosen one
In front of us all this year's
And with all they taught us
They always end with same words
like from beginning
And this words are
You young ones are the future leaders
Of Africa
A graduate with no future
My age grades are above 40's
Alot of us still can't breathe
We are far from this future leaders
And the more we struggle to get closer
We start disappearing from
the presence of the surface of our soil
The same soil which gave us
the hope of a better tomorrow
Alot of us has given up
Some many are currently doing
What they never wish to do
Just for survival
Imagine a man who studied to be
A dentist
Ending up as a bike rider
There's no hospitals to take them in for work
Despite we need them
Alot of us are highly disappointed
With what our economy are becoming
Is difficult to breath in our country presently
Our hopelessness is truly
currently our reality now
In case you wondering why
I chose to write about
A graduate with no future
Hark our heartsick happenings
Its hard to explain and harsh to hear
Its my ought to spiel it as a gal
A doubt arises all the time...
Why these woman want to become astronaut?
Is it for explore the sky? Or
Is it for test what is night?
Oh! Night is not safe all the time...
A doubt arises all the time...
Why these woman want to become leaders?
Is it for lead the country? Or
Is it for restore their rights?
Oh! rights are denied all the time...
A doubt arises all the time...
Why these woman want to become writers?
Is it for expose their talent? Or
Is it for express their hardship?
Oh! Women are suffering all the time...
A doubt arises all the time...
What is the theme of life for woman?
Is it falling? Or
Is it rebounding?
Yes, falling and rebounding all the time...
As I recall, it was the second of four years of college in a study for the gospel ministry. It was my World History class that was being taught by a very learned instructor who was also the president of the college.
That particular class day led us to a passage of scripture in the 13th chapter of Acts. As the passage was being read, our instructor had us to pause and give attention to verse one in the text. The chapter recorded the gathering of leaders of the faith with the intention and plan of setting aside and sending out missionaries. In the group were certain prophets and teachers. Noted among the group were four men. Barnabus, Simeon that was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, and Saul.
Our instructor directed our attention to Simeon that was called Niger. What happened next planted a seed of belonging and trust within me that has served me well throughout my life. He was a large man with a heavy voice, and every fiber of his being beamed with the fragrance of authority. He demanded that no one was to ever in any way use the text about Simeon's race in a derogatory manner. You could have heard a pin fall, and no one as much as asked a question or made a statement, because they knew where the teacher was coming from.
It was a class of white students with one lone black student in the person of myself. On this major subject in the late 60s, our instructor both defined to me and demonstrated an object lesson of what it means to be 'proactive'*. In my own mind, he had spoken volumes and built a proactive dame, holding back any potential floods of prejudice or racism.
070520PS
*tending to initiate change rather than reacting to events; serving to prepare for, intervene in, or control an expected occurrence or situation, especially a negative or difficult one; anticipatory.