Long Newcomers Poems
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III.
But I had a much higher purpose now,
damned or not, I would serve the True God,
for thirty years I served with my brothers,
upon a humble path I faithfully trod.
Maybe I wasn’t a miracle worker,
though I saved lost pilgrims in my time,
age etched lines in my brothers’ faces,
but it had no effect upon mine.
The abbot swore newcomers to secrecy
about the truth of my vampiric fate,
and I guess I believed I’d just go on
serving an eternity in this way.
But one day as the sun started to set,
I looked out upon a terrible sight:
A small girl running, screaming in fear
as a wolf closed on in for a bite.
I hesitated for just a moment,
the sun was high enough that I would burn,
but the terrified cries of a five-year old
were not something from which I could turn.
I sprinted out with unnatural speed,
instantly my skin erupted in flames,
raced past the girl, thrust my burning hand
to the wolf with jaws of snapping rage.
The fire seared both myself and the beast,
with frantic yelps of pain he then ran off,
I staggered back, my pale skin burned to black,
bits of flesh had flaked off and were lost.
I made it back to the small gatehouse
and I collapsed in the shadows within,
the abbot ran close, with my fading strength
I weakly tried to say goodbye to him.
But he just looked down, said,”We need blood.
Run to the chapel and fetch me the wine!”
A brother raced off, returned with the jug,
made no sense to my greatly pained mind.
He filled a chalice, look to the Heavens,
said,”Lord, I know that I am no priest.
But if he must die, let him drink of Your blood,
let him take part at last in Your mercy.”
I felt this would be a fitting way to die,
burned by the holy blood of my Lord.
But when I drank I did not feel the fire,
in fact I didn’t feel pain anymore!
I didn’t see it myself, but they say
that the charred skin beat a fast retreat,
and through the haze I managed to feel
a deep breath and a steady heart-beat!
When I sat up the sun came through a window
and it fell harmlessly upon my skin,
I felt true hunger, thirty years overdue,
by His power I once more was human!
They said In Him All Things Are Possible,
and I suppose I am the living truth,
strangest of all I still looked a young man,
blessed with the power and passion of youth...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
...If this was Heaven, it made little sense,
would not they get newcomers all the time?
How could this seem so bizarre to their mind?
Wouldn’t this have to have happened to them?
I just sighed loud and shook my head again,
but at that time a red-headed man came,
folks parted for him, and cried out his name,
like he was some hero they looked up to,
I just looked at him, not sure what he’d do,
but I somehow sensed that we were the same.
“When they spoke the words, I didn’t believe,
but here you are, good Lord, it’s been so long,
I’d say eight decades have now come and gone,
since I showed up and they had to receive
an earth-born soul, they just couldn’t conceive…
Took John here fifteen years to understand
that there could be another type of man,
so please, take my hand, and I will explain,
the truth of Heaven that boggles the brain,
but in the end is quite sublime and grand.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this guy,
he seemed quite different then everyone else,
it was something in his eyes, I could tell.
In the other folks I could see no lies,
but in Philippe saw something I realized,
the hardness of a soul who had seen sin,
who had known evil, and fought it within,
a familiar look, one that I knew well,
I figured I should hear what he might tell,
so I stood and agreed to follow him.
He waved me over to a tavern small,
we paced towards it, the others close behind,
as if just seeing me shattered their minds,
most of them stopping outside the front wall,
nobody followed us inside at all.
Inside I saw a barkeep cleaning things,
not all that strange, except the man had wings,
an angel bartender…okay, why not?
Already Heaven was weirder than I thought,
Philippe cried, “Ras, you up for explaining?”
The angel turned, and his broad face lit up,
“Is that what I think it is?”he inquired.
I was uncertain what might transpire,
until Ras poured some beer, filled up a cup.
Said, “Up here, we only have the good stuff.
Forgive me, I’m rusty, it’s been a bit
Since an earth-born came, and Philippe was it,
most of your kind are scattered ‘round elsewhere,
so many Heaven-born, your sort are rare,
but I can help you make sense of all this.”
CONTINUES IN PART III.
Paternal grandmother's headstone - Beth David, Elmont, Long Island
Shaindel (Sadie), variant of Shana Harris
died May 13th, 1959 exquisitely chiseled
alphanumeric characters legibly engraved
sepulchral casket entombing lovely bones
deoxyribonucleic acid repurposed into me
Matthew Scott Harris patronymic protector,
when I die taking family surname to netherland
who unwittingly named his youngest daughter
after his recently deceased father's mother.
Mortality encompasses subsequent cremation
never mind death of yours truly unbeknownst
mine soul will migrate towards deceased kith
kindred folks only known courtesy genealogy
descendents called Eastern Europe homeland
upon landing at Ellis Island émigrés hugged
immigration officials and illegibly scribbled
unpronounceable/ unreadable birth names
subsequently adopting common shorthand.
Chromosomes reconstituted genetic material
gifted from forebears ecstatic immigrants apt
to be regaled by relatives hustling newcomers
into fast paced frenzy, the latter gesticulating
at cityscape marveling over hubbub jabbering
babble synchronized in tandem with hawkers
and vendors selling, peddling comestibles,
gewgaws, papers, et cetera predating buyer
beware analogous to innocents abroad say
by George an American in Paris humming
Rhapsody in Blue.
Agog regarding novel sights never seen within
father/mother land, viz supposed New World
blitzkrieg eventually quieted, relegated, shelved...
analogous by Dickens perusing tchotchkes
commonly found within olde curiosity shop,
yet no matter acclimatization arose espying
eye opening merchandise, the dirt poor status
regarding bloodlines a couple generations ago
immediate deterrent experienced by Aaron
Harris (papa's father) as a boy, who provided
for his family, their hardscrabble existence
only somewhat alleviated thru hook and crook.
Please pardon poetic license usurped,
especially slight exaggeration of penury
promulgated concerning up by bootstraps
scenario evinced by paternal grandfather
after he attained and emerged out boyhood,
though destitution imprinted thru his infancy
until growing up hardened qua hard school
of knocks limiting him to eighth grade education.
In the valley of the culprits
be patient.
Remain planted on your legs
to be struck
by the newcomers and leaving them
never look behind you,
so that each one can see
the hairstyle on the nape of your neck.
In the valley of the culprits
while insults fuse
do not say anything, especially
make like the nightingale which ate a blackberry
while the human one depreciates.
The bump at the end of your nose
must not have an impact on your spirit.
Know that your language burns if you eat while pricking
and your backyard burns if you speak bitterly.
Above all
forget your mother, and your father.
It is not necessary to worry about their fate
or that they are weakened physically
and drag themselves along.
Do not say anything.
Drop...
Let your efforts break down.
Let the mast be reversed...
Carry on your way simpering.
If you see a fallen friend
above all have no feeling
no pity
and if you have envy, give him another kick.
Do you know that nobody is thinking of you at this moment?
If you come across a large turkey
cut its throat without saying anything to anybody
and eat it!
Have no panic, remain still
where you are well hidden!
In any event
You are in the valley of the culprits.
You will be viewed badly if you work much.
You will be driven out if you speak the truth.
You will be crushed
if you go the way of love.
You will be beaten in various ways
if you resist tyranny.
You know
that there are things not to be neglected.
In any event
you are in the valley of the culprits
Be pitiless!
You know that integration is spoken about uniquely,
that at least your indentity card is like theirs.
One demands it from you insistently.
If in spite of all you do not like
all that I have just said
do what you want, act according to your desires
as well as your accomplishments.
One never knows
Perhaps you will be accepted!
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Paris, le 04.11.2004
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick – 05.12.2004
You belong to me mate ( Intro )
And that be that!
Get on board
And grab your hat!
The ship was aghast at its new passenger ( Verse )
Like disdain for the lives that they now left behind,
Newcomers were scarce
And they never would last
But I held up my chin nice and high.
The bloke who took me screamed ( Pre-chorus )
“Mop up the deck we’ve got things to do!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a boy and don’t know what’s to do.
And he said ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Taking what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”
Taking the seas for more than eight moons
We found islands and loot
That was bigger than most.
The taste of sea air
With its wind in my hair
Took me away to this new life I lead.
After mopping the deck
He grabbed my hand and screamed
“Steer this ship boy!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a lad and don’t know where to go.
So the crew yelled ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shore
Taking what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”
Surprising to me
Was my unshaven face
The captain looked on
And smiled with grace,
We stopped at a place
Where the women were loose and didn’t mind
If we took a peak.
He said “Now you’re a man so let’s get on that boat,
We got places to be and some people to rope,
So grab that sword and drop that mop
Cause you’re no longer a boy in my eyes.”
I practiced the duel with the men in the crew
The captain took eye to my devilish pride,
And he took me aside and said
“Even in death I’m gonna miss you boy
But don’t let it strike you
Or kill your spirits
Cause even time can beat out the Grim.”
Then in the darkness came fire and screams,
Our vessel had stopped after fourteen years,
The crew fought hard and beat most of the men
But now, my Captain was dead.
We took the new ship watching ours sink deep
Saying goodbye to our drowning escape,
The crew turned towards me and asked
“What do we do?” and I smiled,
And they did to.
And we yelled ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Takin what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”
Silicon city
That pulsates,
Both day and night,
The Tech Capital
And the sky, veiled
With urban haze
And dense, sprawling cityscape.
Grey city of its
Gridlocked roads
Surrounded by
Towering skyscrapers
Inspiring
The coder
And the entrepreneur.
Glass city
Of its
Modern offices
And its apartments
Compact and sleek,
New and bold,
A striking, sure testament
Of the presence
Of the FUTURE.
Neon and chrome city
To reinvent
The bustling rhythm
Of its progress
And yet retains
Echoes of the past.
City of early mornings
When the techie
Leaves his flat
And in the busy metro
Taps his laptop
The commuter,
Eyes on screens,
In air-conditioned cars,
Mimics and rushes
To connect
With the world
That fuels their DREAMS
As a true Bengalurean.
City of endless startups
That illuminates the path
Of the innovator
And the visionary
Who disrupts
Tradition,
Complacency,
And long
Established norms.
Green-grey city
A mixture and contrast
That modernises,
Reshapes the landscape
Of time accelerating
That unleashes
And propels,
Surges swiftly
Unstoppable
And holds in
The tech parks,
By the malls
And facing the
Global IT hub
These dreamers
With cutting-edge ideas
Sitting at the edge
Of this vast
Transforming metropolis,
Creating
The digital future
That captivates and challenges.
City of diversity
Of heaped-up talents
With global backgrounds
Who meet online,
Collaborate,
Innovate,
Connect, Expand.
Disrupt,
Complement,
Enrich,
Express themselves,
Coming just
From every corner
Of India and the world
To the heart
Of Bengaluru
And the epicentre
Of South India's
Tech revolution.
And nostalgic old-timers?
The ambitious Newcomers?
All together
They coexist
And merge
Their traditions and
Their aspirations
In progress
And innovation
But New Bengaluru
Carves out for itself, indeed,
The future's share.
A dynamic and complex present
Whose energy
Excites and overwhelms
Leaving digital footprints
In cyberspace
And experiences
Virtual,
And actual,
Fast-paced
And relentless.
"I have been a stranger in a strange land." Bible, Exodus 2:22
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
Hungry eyes seek substance, food matters naught--
sees the unpleasantness that drains the eyes.
The sea, Heaven on earth, explicit thought
of days that pleased youth oft courses--denies
to the stare of his feet, wherefore and whys,
slowly his head lifts, upright, turned around,
raises palms to rub eyes, lowers ... astound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Rudders turn stern, sails fixed, helms steer abound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
The Creator last passed, blessed the Isles, ought
for the righteous--who first cheered led to cries--
so say I, the Lord of host ..., naught bethought,
lead to temptations; scripturally wise,
threshold darkness crossed, newcomers, eyed prize,
an ancient people's customs, rites, all-round,
diverse power creates oneness, propound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Afeared spread out and a kingdom compound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
An influx flourish, commitments ill-fraught,
church breeds greed, false prophets, true profits--guise,
knowledge sought by natives plots short-changed taught,
forced natives, dethroned queen, kingdom, likewise,
unlearned natives conquered by day, by lies,
time passed, those with knowledge escapes eastbound,
some accomplished, tiresome measures, homebound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Though zilch, non-native highest seat -- renowned,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
[X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X] * X[X]X * [X]X[X]
Grant, native Hawaiians were first who found,
last Hawaiian; Isles, their burial mound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Moses, Exodus estranged you -- your crowned,
last -- prince by name, adoptee, choose uncrowned.
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
"The Circe Effect" (Part 1)
Circe, Goddess of magic, nymph, witch, bold enchantress
daughter of Helios, Sun God, her father, can you imagine? ...
let me paint you further, the tree of this wacked-out family canvas -
daughter of Perse, her mother, wild Oceanid Nymph, spawned not on landmass,
but in the vast deep blue deep.
Aeetes, her brother hung tight to his Fleece
and Pasiphaë, her sister, given in marriage to King Minos of Crete,
had a fling with a monstrous White Bull,
a gift from Poseidon, ain't that so sweet?
she bore a bastard child, the Monataur with a ring in his nose,
horns and hoofed feet.
Now there was a family of total dysfunction
and Circe, poor dear, betrayed for remaining herself,
remaining non-function
was banished to Aeaea for murdering her husband
the Prince of Colchis.
There on Aeaea, as revenge, Circe drew out her magic wand - not a sword,
transmuted her enemies, all those who offended her into wild beasts,
where they were left to circle her mansion and roam to eat swill as their feast.
Docile not dangerous, drugged and delerious,
these beasts never gored -
they were fawned on by all newcomers, who were simply just curious,
never bored.
These entranced beasts lured newcomers to our girl Circe
with a woof and purr.
Enter Circe, quite disturbed, in a logical kind of way.
“More pets for me!”, she thought, “they will never stray”.
These lonely, adventurous vagabonds who ventured into her lair,
well, she showered them with all her incantations, but they never heard
her words of Love ever there –
Circe would finally reveal who she truly was,
for you see by now all that pain, all that hurt
had converted our dear old Circe into a siren
otherworldly, deadly lethal, mysterious, re-birthed;
all that ventured into her Kingdom now were
captivated by her spells and
then promptly, with a wave of her wand,
transfigured forevermore
as creatures,
of her Elysian Fields interred.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ Dec 2017)
An excerpt from my new short story:
Contributing factors, however, are deemed as an assortment embracing negativity and were reinforcements for the young idealist. Granted to resonate by the dark lord was his underlying purpose. The premise has been appropriated. Likewise, the preceding groundwork was properly shoveled underneath. A particular young idealist realigns his outlook and foresees his fresh novel and still sought-after directive. Politics was a voracious subject, not so much academically, but it's a side subject welcomed by scholars considering it just as an extra curriculum. The topic may have been reworded, but his inner values sustain him representing his singular verbiage that goes on unwaveringly. As his agenda gathers momentum, attracting newcomers who realign their political views with his, draws the attention of the local region. Soon thereafter, the rest of the country will be on the ball, by way of his name. His political point of view which framed him since birth, now frames a country. The dark lord is on the rise bearing gifts purposed for an original firstborn. Introduced into a split family valued life of pluses and minuses, and compounded with his educational woes, evil's birthright was given a unique name. Historians, during their early stages, were amidst the golden glow of a virgin Europe, circa 1900.
It would later serve as a guide for his yet-to-be, future. WWI military losses for the Central forces were; 4,386,000, with; 3,700,000 civilian casualties. The Russian Empire conceded to the Bolsheviks Revolution who then executed the Imperial family. Military losses for the Allied forces were; 5,525,000, with; 4,000,000 civilian casualties. The German Empire ended after Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated his throne on November 9th, 1918. Two days later on the 11th of November 1918, The Peace Armistice was signed by the newly formed, German Republic, and the Soviet Union. The end of WWI left a highly decorated Adolf, wholly confident and sharply experienced.
Inspired by Opeth – The Drapery Falls and this entire year…
I sip on Super Mario Brothers hot cocoa cup
Filled with convictions’ drop
From streams of consciousness
Ready to skinny dip into a new plateau
No
Holds
Barred
Ferocity’s grip
Looking upon God’s yesterdays
As He hands me a pen
Asking me what I have learned
…
As days have passed
I slow dance with convex mirrors within glasshouse.
Remedies to my confusion
Thrusting me back to the day
A befriending of cotton candy souls
As we ride against Ferris Wheels with a song
That should never end
Holding hands through rickety roller coasters
Pulling me downwards
Upwards
Parallel to perpendicular resolutions
The square root to pale ghosts
Staring with onyx want
All of their tainted wishes
Were for brighter days
…
As these days pass
I recollect collective smile upon my spiraled breaths.
There should have been more.
There could have been more.
It’s not too late for early newcomers into my atrium.
But, you better have your ticket in hand.
For I have already tasted the scalding broth of disappointing screams
Overpowered in salted dramatics
Please
Just come as you are
Unfiltered
No plastic surgeries are welcome within these heartbeats.
…
As days go by
I continue to dream of tomorrow’s smile
Placing loudspeakers against silenced seclusions
With ONE MIC
I hail to cathedral sanity
Swimming within my stream of consciousness that few can dive into
Without turning their backs
…
As tomorrow approaches
Who will be the spark in our cherry bombs?
To light jeweled, nocturnal ionospheres within breaths of security
And sincerity coated fingertips
Who I ask?
Speak loud!!!
Speak in unbridled frequencies!!!
Don’t wait for another day to go by…
...without me waking up to your sound again.
©Drake J. Eszes