Long Mockery Poems
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Un-revelling Rivalry
Who am I to speak of historical rivalry I cannot contest
all the clever myriad truths conjectures and refutations
about the two masters the two foes with huge presence
when history acclaim appreciation is subjective personal
up front and back stage up all artistic ins downs and outs
My parachute helicopter mind wants to give first prize to
to Leonardo for free flying inventive rebellious mind and
he helped me with anatomy dissecting corpses and all I can
still smell fragrant formalin preserving miraculous tissues
when I had to learn those medical terms and cut into flesh
But then Michelangelo shares my middle name though I am
no angel but who can proclaim that I may never be biased in
associate vein in quite shallow post-post-modernist anticipation
when the great man also painted in narrative personification
Deluge Drunken Noah Creation of Adam Madonna and Child
Okay family man that I am I resort to holidays with my children
and am so sad to admit that we never so far made it to Rome
sacrilegious or not but how could I pass The Last Judgement
when seeing Sistine Chapel’s altar would alter the verdict
of Ignoramus with leisure time spent on Normandy’s beaches
Well now I recall that trip to Euro Disney when we walked
from Tour Eiffel to the Louvre where I temporarily lost my
little boy Moritz and almost my temper when the devious villain
hid from the artwork was sulking because the Mona Lisa was
so small and he was so tiny could not see amongst masses of
tourists the smile and metaphorical writing on canvas and wall
So in all earnest while giving a toss I could-would have to resort
to tossing a coin in regards to whom why how and whenever the
rivals could measure up to history my history my story and life
Even and because of my whacky literal critical stance and my
stanzas bordering on mockery heresy subtle subjectification
you must remember that I have one tongue and two cheeks
And while seemingly ridiculing an important theme of historical
prominence I still bow in awe admiration yet lodge my own angle
perspective whereas the two grand master’s problem was not
what I would behold in my eyes and my soul in full radiance but
that they chose not to consider each others contrasting beauty
as compliment complement Leonardo Angelo Michel Da Vinci
01st September 2016
Preface:
Earlier today May 28th, 2021,
the 12-member jury unanimously
found Cristhian Bahena Rivera guilty
of first-degree murder in brutal stabbing death
sentenced to life in prison
without the possibility of parole
of Mollie Tibbetts remembered as then friendly
20-year-old who was studying
to become a child psychologist.
IOWA CITY, Iowa
(killingly, jarringly inexplicable,
horribly, gruesomely, and forlornly),
the body found July 18, 2018,
an exhumed decayed corpse
belonging to young
vibrant coed twenty year old
college student Mollie Tibbetts.
Impossible mission to deduce
senseless killing of innocent babe
wild speculation perchance
spurned, snubbed,or scorned
love seriously gone wrong,
she who disappeared
from her small hometown
in central Iowa sad swan song
now plays, where every
last drop of sorrow rung,
now weeping family, friends,
relatives, et cetera subjected wrack
with lifelong emotional pain,
which searing inescapable
grief twill unrelentingly track
ferociously, fiercely, and figuratively,
doth disallow recourse
to duck away
from heart wrenching quack
king unbearably, terribly, and scathingly
will fully bill leave ably
beak homing a folly,
mockery, and travesty,
sans time heals
all wounds (truly "FAKE"),
nonetheless psyche riving tragic
(irrevocable loss) doth pack.
Grievous punch greater then any
all star olympic pugilist
straight to the ab
domain of opponent, where
rumor mongers mill and blab
how this, that, or
another potential suspect,...
whence tissues dab
corners of crying eyes,
an endless stream
of tears merge with gab
bullying utter disbelief.
Family/friends question
the supposed almighty
at devastating loss
to do nothing but bawl (at Baal)
into the fox sized rabbit hole
trying with futility
to block (even crawl
ling into every
rabbit hole) no bastion
against implacable
maddening crowded
house alive with murderous frenzy,
and a dialect (non
tickling) gentle Iowan drawl.
Third anniversary regarding
asper the impossibly steep toll
the purposelessness killing,
aforementioned deceased
affected sodden wet soul
cannot process any (defying) logic,
a foregone lovely gal (same age
as my youngest daughter),
whose missed presence,
(albeit said slain lass
Mollie Tibbetts – permanent absence),
now created an expansive
infinite black sink hole.
The world does be a mysterious place to live in
Already hampered with its yet to be unlocked secrets
It does cause us all to enjoy while, at the same time, having us basked in sin
If I could change some things about it, pray, life would be as sweet as a ballet
See, humans would need to become pure
No more shall there be wars to endure
Humans shall be tolerant of one another
Even if differences of all sorts, around us all, do hover
Religions would need to be more unifying
Indeed, Holy Books, of the way to Heaven do teach
But then, humans, of hatred and mockery for one another do be screeching
As if, of peace and tolerance, their religions do not preach
Earth has had enough of its fill of pollution
Machines and gadgets I would bring forward,
Having the preservation of nature as their main mission
No more would trash and dirt fill the nooks and crooks of the world
Pollution does cause the death of life
Nature does become impure to our health
So much that Earth does feel like she is going on her way to her own death
Pray, a new world it shall be, one with air so fresh
If I could change more about the world,
Why, I would make sure death and disease do be in-existent
Pray, death does be so bold, it does cause us all to be so sad
Disease and the loss of our loved ones do cause us all to fall to our own detriment
Why, of course, humans and animals would have eternity to live
But at the same time, they would need to be made of good feelings
No more evil, no more sin, no more harms
No more disturbed thoughts, no more wants of abuse
My world, if I could have my way, would be free from poverty
Each and everyone of us would have his own share of gold
So that content shall be his stomach and that of his family
Content shall also be his heart, indeed, content shall be his little world
Why, does the world be a place where we, fallen souls, come to grieve
Does it be a place where our souls are to be always ringing with sorrowful alarm
Why, I do claim not to have, at my disposal, the one magic finger
But I shall try my best, to make of my world, a place, one so better!
This rhyme does be my prayer
May the Heavens bestow upon me, their power
Pray, if I could have my way, the world shall be the solace of all of life
Indeed, such a vision does be in my heart, the strength of my own faith!
10 April 2016
Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.
Come Tuesday, November 3, 2020
mandatory voting obligation to oust
horrible malevolent commander in chief.
Spanish and English writing on border wall
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall
brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
tuckered bands overthrowing pathological
megalomaniac haint your
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,
Née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God
this exclamation ejaculated yours truly house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.
Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters
hard won reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.
Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed
pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don and trumpet
(auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed
one or more dirty deed
done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed
anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).
Hence, I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports self
as aging pencil neck geek
wearing non matching shoes and socks.
I heard echoes of scurrilous snarls,
from my conscience as it spoke
contemptible remarks aimed at me.
What shame those words delivered.
"Fatuous one, why does your hand quiver,
mimicking trembling lips of a child in fear?
You dare call yourself a poet,
but you're nothing more than a joke."
Guilt, the culprit that tunnels my mind
as my passion flower shrivels on its vine.
An empty heart has stripped my soul
of its craving need to write.
It's my own foolish notion
that causes me to shiver.
I weep over my planted seedlings,
their mournful cries I hear.
Abandoned by their mother who begot them,
and for this I'm filled with remorseful regret.
That mockery invaded my aching breast,
when it ridiculed me as a fool;
"A self-proclaimed bard who gives up the task,
should put down the quill and live in disgrace."
There is no saving grace for me.
No nourishment for my verses to thrive.
My heart is broken and lost in memories.
Without the will to live, how will it survive?
It only beats to keep me alive.
Rows of sprouted thoughts have withered
dying of thirst, drying up in a field of grief,
and I, their neglectful sower, helplessly sit
as time elapses and I watch them expire.
I’ve fallen between the gaps of missing lines
and must retire.
I've watered the seeds of my self doubt
with salted sweat from my furrowed brow;
over fertilized them with tears of frustration.
I do not seek salvation or redemption.
Damnation will out.
My ink well of impetus has sprung a leak
or maybe it's a new watering hole I seek.
I have not a drop to quench their thirst
no morning dew, nor afternoon shower
to give my wilting buds a reprieve in relief.
I've tried to save them all,
but half-hearted attempts were all in vain.
Not one more rhyme can I rescue from pain
and suffering loss. All hope is gone.
My fear is that I cannot express myself
in what was once an emotional voice.
No wonder my pages remain barren and blank,
except for the blotches of spilled ink.
My parchment lies in a state of immortal decay.
I relinquish my quill to a better hand than mine,
setting it free and pray that it may be forgiven
for my folly, for I've given it no choice.
I've only myself, this bereft poet, to thank.
Written January 24th, 2021
Judged N/A 2/22/21
Contest Open Poetry !
People in my school have names for someone like me.
Freak, crazy, weirdo, a spawn by the devil's decree.
I took note of every malicious word they ever spoke,
knowing that before long they'd no longer make me a joke.
None of them knew how truthful were their mocking words.
They had no clue I could spread my wings to fly among the birds,
with ravens that caw out for blood at the stroke of each midnight.
I'd fill their haunting dreams with images of daunting fright.
A snip of dried herbs, a pinch of fungal root, boiled in fat of fowl,
a concoction for me to savor, secreted to me by my mother, an owl.
Eyes that see through bloodshot color, they would see them too
when the full moon was high and the sky turned dark cobalt blue.
No help will they receive from a scream or gyrations to be free.
They soon will know they should never have made a mockery of me.
The time is near, my brew is cooled, now it's my time to have fun.
Tonight their dreams will be nightmares, a gift from the evil one.
With their eyes closed, they will envision they are being chased
by hundreds of bloodshot eyes, the likes of which they've never faced.
Black robes adorned, scepter of wormwood waved from my hand.
Eyes... wild bloodshot eyes, will seek vengeance at my command.
Fog advances to the bedrooms of those who sleep in peace.
My adrenaline is pumping, just a few more minutes until release.
A snarl of satisfaction I feel curled upon my blood red lips.
You won't belittle me again with your taunting nocuous quips.
NOW! I gave the order for the eyes to creep into their dreams
But my heart is beating too fast. This was not part of my schemes.
I can't see a bloody thing. What's happened to the spell I cast?
How long will this blindness torture me? How long must it last?
A truant officer was sent to see what had become of the freak.
Through a window he saw many ravens, all with bloodied beak.
No body was discovered. All that remained was a robe of black
and a note scratched upon the floor. "Too late to take it back."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
December 26th, 2015
Deep and Dark Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
in the language of personal amplification
you'd think it was all a scam
to make you drop your guard
and play patty cakes with Evil
job 3 was to rearrange your molecules
into an actual you
capable of withstanding
the outcomes you generate
from a lack of detail
where science is not to be found
there is no other description that fits
praise the panoramic vista
just around the corner
it's all about the pivot points
so fat chance
among the exploding galaxies
minus the swashbuckling pistoleros and
armchair Romeos and
prisoners of doom and
fairytale living sacrifices
victory is not always a given
you have known this for years
when the paparazzi scribblers
were the Freedom Brigade
where your body parts
take on a life of their own
and deductions don't necessarily
insure your survival
and the mystery remains
job 4 is to better organize thoughts
the game of influence
is the game of influence of judgment
and in sum job 5 is to look at our expectations
and their reliance upon
the letters of the alphabet
separate inputs perceived as one
is an angel
allow me to present you
with the keys to the code
two eyeball pictures perceived as one
within the freedom to inquire
the fanatics want to stop time
that is all there is to it
in which case
a mild dose of persistence never hurts
vision is numbers is evidence
we suffer the memory of past volitions
many of them not our own
we have been engineered to be throttled
yah I took the long way home
much to the disgust
of every entity in the Universe
the list of culprits is long
you have been reading it
no surprise relief on the horizon
police could show up on my doorstep
at any suspecting instant
but the obvious comes easily to me
when I am uninhabited
that's what you get when
you stop trying to be appetizing
for those who cannot tolerate self mockery
there is a train load of pity
to add to the weight on your arms
when in doubt go for the learning
do for the learning
be for the learning
rampant imagination may be
a low grade ore
but the nuggets will blow your head to atoms
enjoy your nodule of security then
keep in mind it can quickly vaporize
in a new modality of immediacy
a traveling mosaic of instants
the next one looking back on the last
(to be continued)
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
Top shelf cologne exhibits sensual tail of peacock
Entrances my senses at our eleven a.m embrace
Eyes shut, my erratic stamina borrows comfort
Curled into leather front seat, chest inhales safe
Our waterfall guffaws cascade in establishments of stature
Grilled salmon, staple lunch, gregarious wine supports us
Role's novelty and glitz incessantly scratches my rapture
Unorthodox allure makes mockery of standard formulas
Indirect looks from diners, behind raised glasses, warped
Solid gold arrogance declares benefits blatantly displayed
Society fears breaking the mould, glued to ordinary course
Our acquired theme sustains disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard grandeur sees counterpart meshed potential
Sleek topless travel exalts unfelt mist, road gloss moisture
Your life thickened fingers amorously grasp my thigh's tender
I agree to be owned, an ornament connects material pleasure
When the Polstar slows to crawl of steady tiger, stealthily slips
mid afternoon into carpark of your harbour side apartment
Disparagement wedges beneath my ribs, not having envisaged
aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug expression hugs your face, read in tight lipped pressure
I assert my plan to showcase new swimsuit may now be ruined
"Absolutely promise, gorgeous, there's no chance you'll regret."
My climbing premonition messages a gem of genuine
Ponytail splayed against mirrored wall of elevator
Ardent kissing's conclusion resurfaces your chivalrous
Door barely closed before I pouncing kitten paw you
Your flailing indicating a spare key cut for me, erroneous
"My doll, my dear desirable, the key is incompatible."
Mysterious grimace molests your face, causing me to frown
"Did the rum with lunch rupture your remaining brain cells?!"
Fatherly pats of my arms speak a decoy which confounds
Journey up two flights, could it be... heart in throat
Silenced keys caress sweat sodden peeled open palm
Your anticipating stare burns my back, unopposed
Oh, justify me - yes! - the door complies on demand
"Neighbour, do you like it?" superfluous inquiry smiling
Floating eight stories above glint of yacht metropolis
Invited by windows handing out reviving hold of horizon
Violent screams likely deafen you, interjected with frantic kisses
DEAR
You are and will never be worthy of my love
You need reasons to prove my love
You need ways to know that I am worthy
This was never love my dear
And this is all never ought to be
So goodbye from me forever
Forever I will ever see
Your way and my way are different to be!
I know it's bitter in the heart
I know it's never easy to part
But it's better to heal a broken heart
Then to stay in a mess from the start
So with all the memories that I have
I tell you an honest goodbye
Goodbye my love from my end
A love that I could never mend
Goodbye forever!
It was your love which wasn't pure
Or there was no connection and allure
Things have truly turned too sour
And nothing can change now in life
Things can turn too bad with all this vice
So goodbye from me for it was never love
Which neither of us could ever see
A final bye from my side to you!
I can really explain you the reason
I am feeling numb in this season
It was a mistake that couldn't be healed
And our love could not get that seal
It was never meant to be that way
And I just want to say
That life will move on with a broken heart
You will always be a special part
Goodbye from me to you!
I gave you my all in love oh girl
And I could swear it all in life
But you left me half way heartbroken
Tell me how I will survive
I will never love again in life
Coz this has left me shattered
And left a gap in my heart forever
Goodbye from me to you!
So easy it was to go away like this
So easy it was to leave the way
So easy it was to just call this off
So easy it was to say
That you don't love me any more
That we should just break this tie
Not as easy as it was meant to be
Coz true love will never die
Goodbye from me to you
It's a final goodbye!
The way you used to pretend
The way you used to care for me
The way in which you were there for me
Never thought it was all fake
You made my life a mess
How could you make
A mockery out of our love
Goodbye from me to you forever
Forever in that shove!
The way you have betrayed me
The way you cheated on me
It's hard to believe in love anymore
It's hard to give my heart
You broke my heart oh girl
After a lovely start
I feel so vulnerable now
So much in pain
Goodbye from me to you
For love that went in vain!
BY DERICK MUTAI
DO YOU KNOW GOD?
Do you know God?
Do you really know God?
Do you know the Light
That shines brighter than the sun?
Do you know the voice of many waters
Or the eyes of fiery fire?
Have you seen the lightning
The voices of worship and thunder?
Did you see the seven lamps;
All, the seven-fold Spirit of God?
Did you notice the twenty four elders,
With gold crowns on their heads,
Sitting on twenty four thrones round
The throne of Love?
Hark, the worship of the four living beasts
Saying ‘Holy, holy is the Lord
God Almighty, who was
Is and is to come’
See the worship of the twenty four
Falling down and casting crowns
All praising the worthy Lamb of God.
See the Lamb that sits on the throne
As of jasper and carnelian
See the emerald rainbow round the throne
See the crystal clear sea of glass
Beneath the worthy feet of the Lamb
Watch as the double edged sword comes from His mouth
See the glory of the Word.
See the Lamb in form of flesh
See the Lamb tempted by men
See this Lamb scorned and rejected
By the cursed, condemned and doomed.
See God’s Lamb scourged to the bone
See His flesh stick to the whips
See the mockery of the crown of thorns
See the pain and the Blood He dripped
See Him carrying a tree in this condition
See Him fall; vulnerable to pain.
Oh God’s Lamb left at man’s mercy
See Him stripped of every cloth
See Him nailed through to the Cross
See Him hanging naked on the Cross
See men spit and scoff at Him
See God’s Lamb in need of water
See Him given vinegar with a sponge.
See the Father turn away from His begotten
See the Son cry, more helpless than a babe
See God fall into the hands of death
See His body wrapped like the corpse of man
See God laid in the tomb of a man
Dead for three days and alive on the third day.
What’s the union between these two
The King on the throne and a dead man in a tomb?
What’s the closeness between these two
The glory of Heaven and the darkness of hell?
But the King who sits on the throne
Became the dead man in the tomb
And the eternal King of glory
Went to the very depths of hell
Not on a tour or show off
But an expression of His eternal love for us.
So again I ask; do you know God?
Do you really know Love?
Do you know the Love
That shines brighter than the sun?
Do you know the Man of many wonders
Or the Lamb that died on the Cross?