Long On the whole Poems
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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014
I see the blood
of my ancestors
that swell
in the Atlantic ocean
on
Goree Island -
The unmerciful ill winds
that fell
over my people,
in Senegal,
on that
horrific night,
brought the European's,
across the Atlantic,
to our Village -
Everything
in the world
changed forever,
and
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable"
cruel acts
of slavery,
cloaked my people
like
darkness in the night -
White men
dressed in British
formal attire,
brought with them,
bullwhip's, chains, machetes,
and rifles,
to capture us.....
to ENSLAVE us!
We were brutally beaten,
and
taken to
the House of Slaves,
on Goree Island -
The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist,
and
ankle chains -
Days would pass,
some of us died
from
diseases,
and
starvation,
while waiting
for
the slave ship
to come
from the Americas -
The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,
as we were
auctioned off as
commodity,
to the Americas,
during
the Atlantic Slave Trade
The mournful ness
in our helpless eyes,
spoke of horrendous fear,
as a feeling of distraught,
distress,
and despair,
clothed us
like
death -
We are innocent people
that will never
see our families again
Our homeland again -
It's unfathomable,
to see black souls in chains,
taking those final usurious
steps towards the "Door Of No
Return,"
in the House Of Slaves,
which left its ugly mark,
on the whole global earth -
Once through
the Door Of No Return,
we were sold to the Americas,
and
faced a future of
severe beatings, burnings,
hangings, lynchings,
and
rape -
To this day,
ancient spirits
of
black people,
still scream in rage
on
Goree Island,
where an untold number
of us were
slaughtered,
and
branded
before walking
through the slave door,
of
an uncertain future -
The ominous clouds
of slavery,
will
forever cast
a dark shadow,
over the
House Of Slaves,
the Door Of No Return,
and the world -
Goree Island,
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever
cry tears of blood,
from the souls of
black people -
~Don't Be Left Behind~
( Couplet)
Please don’t miss out and be left behind
Salvation only thru Jesus we can always find
Try not to do, what you know is not right
And pray to Jesus to keep you in His sacred light
Don't do evil and keep company with the wrong crowd
In front of our God we should be humbled not proud
The ways of the Lord are always good and perfect
He deserves all our unconditional love and respect
Find the Lord first and to you all His blessings He'll surely add
For your sins and mine He paid the price so we can be glad not sad
For the love of God we can come anytime and have with Him eternity
Only through Jesus we can have Salvation, not in our own way and ability
We can not attain Salvation just by doing it with our own power or good
We're not good enough, just "God" is really good and perfect and that’s understood.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2006
February.25.2016
~Author's notes:
Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.
1 Thessalonians 4:17 (NIV)
I tell you, in that night there will be two in one bed. One will be taken and the other left. There will be two women grinding together. One will be taken and the other left.” And they said to him, “Where, Lord?” He said to them, “Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.”
Luke 17: 34-37 (NIV)
Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth.
Revelation 3: 10 (NIV)
“But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
Mark 13:32 (NIV )
“Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.
Matthew 24: 29-31 (NIV)
Character.
That's where the biggest measurements,
truest tests of worth
should lie.
And yet, 'tis not so.
Sometimes, mostly, I believe
that it's indeed enough.
That being a good man
is enough to keep me afloat.
Sometimes, rarely, . . .
I don't.
How many good men die?
How many great people, nice guys,
saintly women, shining paragons of humanity -
are shunned?
People don't always look at you
with virtue in mind,
don't gaze through honor's eyes;
too often they look through you, into you,
to what you can do for them.
Too often they choose,
not to see the real source of light in front of them,
but instead just the glow of fool's gold;
warping your worth to mean usefulness
instead of selflessness,
utility instead of altruism.
Or they misread you entirely;
focusing solely on your looks,
or your wealth, or your mannerisms,
your attitudes;
one is chosen, only one is seen -
the one made to blemish and demean.
Very few gaze on the whole picture,
take in the whole work;
these are those you treasure.
The ones, also, of value,
the ones who are what they claim
and claim little more than living
in a respectable way.
But still, in this life,
character matters oft too little;
gathers all but nothing corporeal.
In the end, one must make a choice;
tangible wealth, or wealth of pride?
What matters to one more -
the character of the substance,
or the substance of the character?
I strive to continue
to believe that great people are there;
that who you are
makes a damn bit of difference.
But throughout that strife,
ever am I haunted, shadowed,
by one ceaseless question.
How many good men die?
That's it. That's what I want to know.
That's what follows and taunts me.
How many of them fall, without ever knowing
just what they've meant to those they've helped -
those they've served, protected, assisted, befriended?
Whether it was a much-needed pat on the back,
picking up a dropped cane, searching for something lost;
or something bigger -
a life given, an oath fulfilled,
a love or a friendship began and striven for -
how many never believe they've made a difference, however slight,
never realize what they truly were?
How many good men die,
having once or more asked a question of their own -
am I a good man,
was I a good man-
without their answer?
Nestled high on a tree top..
Inside my tree house..
High upon a hill..
Away from civilization
Away from the restraints of society..
A society in which is corrupt at times..
A society in which life is only a matrix of robotic forms.
Robotics exist as such..
As do humans that function in their own reality matrix as machine..
Men and women believe they must contribute to this society ..
Only as a business transaction..
A business transaction in the reality matrix ..
That one's life is only based on survival mode..
One must switch a lever to always remain in survival mode..
One's life isn't for living..
One's life is for survival..
An intertia of survival mode..
Maintains a narrow view of the matrix on the whole..
Narrow version of robotic forms it is..
Men, women, and machines..
Humans behaving as robotics.
Robotics behaving as humans..
A society in which conditions one's mind..
A conditioning of a mind..
In which will allow one to believe, we are a mere tiny speck of dust..
That lies in this massive universe..
Just a meaningless speck of dust..
A speck of dust in the wind..
Wind blows..
A speck of dust evaporates
slowly but surely..
No longer in existence
A meaningless life..
Filled with only a value of what one can donate to the society..
With much blood, sweat and tears..
We pay dearly for contributing to the society..
The reality matrix of robotic forms..
One cannot hear
One cannot listen..
One can only do..
As society instructs..
On the whole..
The reality matrix is extremely meaningful..
One's life is indeed worth living..
One's life isn't based only on survival mode..
So here I am nestled high on a tree top..
As I enjoy my lovely tree house..
High upon a hill..
Peaceful in every which way..
Serenty is priceless..
Joy is priceless..
Love is priceless..
As I breathe the fresh air of life..
As I glance at my luscious sorroundings..
Consisted of nature and greenery..
A greenery that seems velvet..
Velvet greenery by day..
Shimmering moon by night..
A glistening starry night..
Only the illumination of the moon and the stars..
I feel gratitude..
Gracious I feel..
As i am divine..
Divinity speaks to me..
And I hear..
And I listen..
Here high upon a hill..
In my lovely tree house..
Away from the matrix of robotic forms..
whether you like it or not, your priest, your pastor, your minister,
your clergyman
of whom you hold the utmost regard,
whose very advice
you secretly tell yourself has been inspired by
the lord your god &
maybe even “jesus” himself,
may in fact hold a very
deep
dark
secret---
your clergyman or woman may have come to the
rational
conclusion,
a long time ago,
that what it was that they went to seminary for,
that what it was that they themselves thought in the deepest reservoir of their hearts,
that the pure unadulterated faith
which they once held onto like a child does their mother’s hand
when walking in the city,
which they once thought was so obvious &
real,
is nothing but a cheap hoax of the most serious kind,
&
that it is all a
lie---
at best, this lie which they are still taking part in,
is one which they think brings comfort to their
flock,
it pays their bills,
above all, they have no idea what they would do
if they turned their back on the whole sham now,
after
wasting
half
their
life
peddling religious smut like a pimp on a street corner.
huddled in their corner at home,
locked up in the closet,
they bite their nails and bear upon their backs the weight
of the lie growing like a cancerous tumor---
they may have friends who are clergy,
with whom they can speak of losing faith in a roundabout
manner,
by which both parties are made to feel more comfortable
when the ambiguous nature of a conversation finally gets down to the
nitty-gritty,
that this sham
this character was NOT born of a virgin
that this character did NOT walk on water
never cured a leper
never turned water to wine
never turned a few fish & a loaf of bread to a feast for
thousands &
was never crucified, dead & buried only to
rise again.
inside their minds is an explosion ready to awaken
millions
that finally, even the prime liars in this campaign of
deception that has lasted a few thousand years
is
breaking---
it is all a matter of time before the technology that we
have produced as a species cures our very fear of
death &
without the fear of death,
you will no longer need to be a slave to these
charlatans
that continue to beat you senseless with their
poorly written fiction.
get ahead of the curve &
scrap it all before your shepherds do,
making you look like the sap that you presently
are.
I saw a talk-show interview
of a new author, all the rage,
she had sold two million copies,
her book is everywhere these days.
It was tailor-made for women,
a downcast wife looking for love,
verbally abusive husband,
trapped in a situation tough.
Until one day she went out west,
going on vacation alone,
her husband said that he had work,
brushed her off, she was on her own.
She had gone out to a dude ranch,
she had loved horses as a kid,
where she met the ranch’s wrangler,
a mountain man cowboy named Sid.
He was what her husband was not,
Sid was caring, confident, cool,
he’d help he mouth, his touch would linger,
and she’d smile back like a fool.
They’d find themselves talking for hours,
finding any excuse to touch,
then one day in a mountain meadow
they spread a blanket and made love.
It was all that she lacked at home,
passionate, intense, and sincere,
she wished that she could never leave,
but she had a life, a career….
And her cowboy love made peanuts,
not enough for two to survive,
nesides, this was infatuation,
that’s what she told herself inside.
But at home she couldn’t be happy,
soon enough she longer for escape,
so once a year, for a whole week,
to her cowboy she’d make her way.
And this continued for eight years,
until she saw on their website,
that her man died in a car crash,
she hid her tears for that whole night.
Yet he had left a parting gift,
for she was sick in the mornings,
this was the author’s tragic tale,
it has countless fans adoring.
To seal the deal she did proclaim
that it was based on her own life,
she’d changed names, but much was quite real,
you sold more with tales of real strife.
My own wife was enrapt by it,
which caused me some little alarm,
but she just laughed and dismissed it
when I said such tales could do harm.
But something just didn’t sit right,
on the whole thing something seemed off,
I know truth is stranger than fiction,
but something kept making me scoff.
Real life just doesn’t work this way,
romance can never be that clear,
then throw in infidelity?
This tale was not what it appeared.
So in free time I went online,
digging into the author’s past,
and saw that I was not the first
to put this new writer on blast...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
It’s called “Holy War”, “Jihad”,
Murder in the name of God.
Don’t you think that’s odd?
But what is a “Holy War”?
But a contradiction in terms for sure.
Since Caine killed Able,
The cards on the table,
Read “Dead Man’s Hand”.
Blood in the sand,
And blood on the Sun
By fools and tyrants wars are begun,
And not all the killing done,
Is in the name of country and freedom.
It’s the murder of a mother’s son,
The killing of a wife’s husband,
Tearing away of a child’s father or mother…
But God said to love one another,
Not to slay your sister or brother.
Rationalized evil deeds,
Planting foul seeds,
In our innocent young.
Handing children guns,
Taught to shoot the “Unholy Ones”,
Raised on a doctrine of hate,
To sacrifice themselves is their fate.
A “Holy Crusade” for Christianity…?
But there was no Christ in that insanity!
Thousands of years of war,
And what’s it all been for?
There are no real victors or winners,
Just losers, killers, and sinners.
Whether it’s a Holy Crusade for Christ,
Or Jihad in the name of God,
We all must pay the price.
If you kill for religion’s sake you’re a fraud.
Pretending to be doing God’s bidding,
But who do you think you are kidding?
It’s just murder for murder’s sake,
And it’s Satan who your soul will take…
God does not sanction the killing,
Rationalized in his name.
And Christ will not save those who are willing,
To murder innocents doing the same.
Religious zealots commit suicide,
Thinking they’ll still go to Heaven.
But they’re in for a surprising downward ride,
When it’s hell that they will wind up in.
For God is all about peace and love,
Only mankind is capable of hate.
A judgment will come down from above,
And all must accept their eternal fate.
Killing in the name of God or Christ,
Is like rolling snake eyes on the dice.
You can only really lose,
Not only your life, but your soul.
Eternal damnation is the toll.
But if this is the path you choose,
You may live inside a religious ruse,
And let the devil be your muse.
It’s absolute madness on the whole.
You’re flying in the face of God,
And don’t you think it’s a little bit odd,
That He keeps you at His arm’s length,
Though you try with all your strength.
You poor old wretched sod.
“All Scripture is God-breathed
And is useful for teaching,
Rebuking, correcting
And training in righteousness,
So that the man of God
May be thoroughly equipped
For every good work.”
To receive anything that
Will last you have to run
Righteously on Gods turf
To see anything good
On the whole green earth
And to live up to His standards
What you’re really worth.
Now is the time to make
Up your mind to living
The right way, those
Who are both saved
And unsaved, living
Righteously is no
Abracadabra effect
It takes time and
Discipline from the one
Up above- the one
Who gives us
Unconditional love
Our destiny and
Challenges us to live
Righteously and the
Word states in
Deuteronomy 28
Blessings and curses
For obeying God’s law
Not saying that we
Won’t sin but we
Must repent
And start over again
We don’t have to
Offer up our blood
For a sin sacrifice
Jesus already paid the price
All we have to do
Is live right
We blessings or curses
At stake Deuteronomy 28
Is not a mistake.
God wants to bless us
He made us the head
And not the tail above
And not beneath
The lenders and not
The borrowers
If and only if
You choose to live
And live right
Satan wants to destroy
Your blessings
He wants you beneath
The borrower
And a successful sorrower.
Read Deuteronomy 28
To get the blessed life
On your plate
This passage didn’t
Appear over night
Just like you can’t change
Dramatically keep it
In your heart and try
Your best let Him do
The rest and you’ll
See yourself go from
Being a mess
to being blessed.
Deuteronmy 28
Describes how God
Wants our lives
And how we’ll be
Punished.
You have a choice
To live godly
Or to live demonic.
How do you want it?
“All Scripture is God-breathed
And is useful for teaching,
Rebuking, correcting
And training in righteousness,
So that the man of God
May be thoroughly equipped
For every good work.”
You should want to be blessed
Each day you walk the green earth.
To be blessed obey the commands
God’s word don’t make mistakes
Read Deuteronomy 28.
it's really not bad at all, it seems false advertising is the only way i get any numbers despite the fact that i write the truth so well:
DID YOU SAY RESURRECTION OR ********?
Pardon me Mister Sinister Minister
But you are not so much teaching as you are screeching and reaching
While preaching to the choir about brimstone and fire
As I deem you a damnable liar
And a prodigal prostitute who should be destitute
While I remain resolute against your irreverent and irrelevant irregularities
And you raise my ire to a dire decibel
Because I am not a disciple
Nor am I a member of your congregation
Because you are an abhorrent aberration whom I abhor
You unholy whore
Your soul on the whole is the goal of a ghoul
And I anoint you a fallacy and a freakish fool
While you duel with a demon whose semen is sanctimonious and erroneous
And I point to the error of your wretched ways
Until the end of days
You serve an ironic idol who is an iconoclastic and bombastic bastard I berate with hate who makes me irate…..
And whose fate is forecast by the force of a phallic symbol symbolized by the simple minded followers of a fraud
Who, quite frankly, leaves me abominably bored
An impossible imposter who fosters the phoniness of a fake who can’t make a pretender into the defender of the defenseless
Only the senseless hordes of impious who hear and believe the pretense you preach about
And fill me with undiluted and indubitable doubt
Because someone should wash your mouth out with soap
Hang you on the end of a rope
As you grope with grievance for the allegiance of the almighty
Since your facts are based on flightiness and reprehensible rhetoric scorned by the sensible and seen for the tripe it is
Ripe and rife with ridiculous conclusions
And the illusions of illusive, insidious, insipid and all inconclusive information
As I repeat
I am not a member of your congregation
Mr. Sinister Minister of misery and miserly compassion
Whose ration of ridiculousness is reclusive and replete with completely indecisive and indelicate ideologies
And what you preach and teach about is simply old hat
And so Mister Sinister Minister
Take that!
© 2012….copyright..PHREEPOETREE...~free cee!~
I have been the one writing for you,
Said I to God,
I wish you would write me a poem,
I continued,
So that I would know
What goes on in the expanse
Of your subtleness
When it comes to my plight!
I was sitting under the shade of a tree
Enjoying the light breeze
As it brushes against my skin
Enjoying the babble of nearby children
As they clumsily ran after their ball
Enjoying also, the sight of the clear blue skies
As it stubbornly kept itself shut tight
Allowing me not to discern what was happening
On its other side!
My hand automatically took hold of my pen
And I started writing,
What was a poem from God!
A child, you shall always be one,
It started,
Needy emotionally
Scared psychologically
Fragile on the whole
You worry of the reactions of the sins
Of the sinners
As if,
You would have cured them with the warmth
Of your magic
Had I let you come to Earth with it!
A child, naive and gullible,
You pain for every little thing
That tugs your heart
Even if I have already made my word
Heard to you!
Pray, child,
Your tantrums hurt me
You have no trust in me
You'd rather have faith in your limited vision
Than in my endless capabilities
As if,
I were the human here, and you,
The God!
Be soothed, be calmed,
Enjoy the lot that I have bestowed
Upon your fate,
Relish of it,
As if it were the treasure that the whole world seeks
Hide it, keep it a secret
As if it were easily to be stolen from you!
Be calmed, for I care about you
And I shall have your soul saved
Be soothed, for I worry about you
I watch each of your steps
I guide you, even when you realize it not
I love you
And want you to love yourself as you remain
The most beautiful of all my creations!
The pain that gripped me made me breathless
I looked up at the skies
And let my tears flow
Feeling as if they were drizzles of rain
Falling while the clouds played soft romantic tunes!
Forgive my laments, whispered I to God
I shall smile as from now
I shall smile at life
I shall smile at pain, at the evil in others,
At everything, from pricks to pleasures!
I will do as you wish
Forgive me
And allow me always
To be blessed by your mercy!