Long Predisposed Poems
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Before I was born, the moment I died, night replaced day.
Verily my brothers and you my sisters, to Mary cried.
Strange is this world in which even I, try to hide.
Upside down, none but one has ever tried.
Unto you by word of mouth, by mine this your rule of law.
While twisted tounges predisposed did in the dark rearranged,
all that was read unto them, I never said.
I behind you, have always walked,
I have never run while ahead of me, walks your shadow.
Back to the place before you were born I could hear,
the very thoughts, that I to you spoke of.
I know where you hide them,
even unborn children know, birds without wings can not fly.
For all of your mental hospitals,
jails and your heavily garded prisons.
These will be your next heaven,
for all of you, my sons and daughters.
To regress and never while knowing, try to evolve.
Why it is that you place your mother and father
instead of yourself, in harms way.
Where I have gone ahead,
that you looking back can not follow?
Questions to the answers I spoke of to you,
and why, no one listened.
Now look at the children of mine, you have slaughtered.
Prophet's none,
numb with sleep where ahead of me, you placed them.
Religion to see over blind science,
here some but for one, would not be.
Afraid of the dark,
here all alone all of this to you, I once promised.
I don’t sense that God keeps score --
my guess, believing He already
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and
profitable confessions,
ballot slips and extra altar sips,
less Jung and more Freudian
myself reasoning that, Lover and
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free
For sure, by now, have learned my ideas
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps
attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --
Written: June 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
*******************
Growling, arguing, cursing, and screams,
They nod to chase after a dollar, a dream.
Trapped in clichés, similar to urban swine,
Lost residents of the suburbs stand in line.
The city of brotherhood and sisterhood,
Racially diverse cultures and schools stood.
Philly cheese-steaks, hoagies, and homicides,
Cocaine vampires succumb side by side.
On filthy streets, zombies and dogs coexist,
In Fishtown, hunt for meat to eat or a twist.
They need medicine and shoes for their feet.
Litter chokes Kensington Ave replete street.
They say Oxy and fentanyl are to blame.
Perhaps it's genetics, wrapped in shame.
Predisposed to a life completely polluted—
From the moment of birth, deeply rooted.
Some were once rich, now penniless,
With only a rat and their mute distress.
A raw middle-class suburbia faces bruise,
Zombies cradle meth and crack misuse.
They nod, dip, freeze, and sway—
Defying gravity, they struggle to stay.
Despite its fame, the land has failed,
A monolithic trial, where hopes derailed?
Former star-spangled grandeur has faded.
Betsy Ross famed flag thread is jaded.
A horrible scene for a tourist to behold,
A ghostly flat-backed female zombie, cold.
Kensington Ave in the city's northeast—
Zombies, dogs, and lost souls feast.
Two-legged canines in an endless sludge.
Life is grim in this dope-fueled grudge.
I don't belong or get along, my ways are different from the rest
as hard as I try it just does not fly, I can never pass that standardized test
I cannot figure on whom to pull the trigger, I simply had enough
when my blood boils to toleration zero, I can't help but fly off the cuff
Imagine here you are, and put into a situation
being told there is no need for contemplation
so just another robot you are expected to be
would you not do whatever you must to set yourself free
Living this life for so very long, waiting for a miracle to feel you belong
where is the chance to redeem yourself, this internal pain seems to prolong
calling to those claiming to be your friends, please come now to my aid
my dilemma is certainly an emotional one, you have nothing to be afraid
What can I say, it's a broken heart I have today
who not in my position, would they be able to relate
so I am left with only this one thought in mind
with no alternative, predisposed to accept my fate
I am trapped in my own reality, with this being at the core
and only recently have I been able, beginning to explore
and, yet, my senses tell me, what my heart already knows
it's a punishment from above, because of what I did not long before
You see my friend, it is true that in the end
we will all be shown what our lives were all for
having been brought to this world, was not for naught
all of our deeds, to be weighed with a heavenly score
Our lives have been recorded on video, where all that has been done does reside
and after our lives have been completed, with all this will our judgement decide
to be applauded and forever lauded, by what we have done while we were here
or to be decided differently, and forever this shame will we be forced to wear
It is not too late, I reiterate, while the breath of life is still yours
freedom of choice gives you that voice, avoid what the Almighty abhors
only days and years to us remain, to the moral and upright you should cleave
because Satan awaits to take what's his, why for an eternity should you bereave
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
I lie prone beneath the October sky
Embraced by the night, and cool damp grass
The heavens above, loom dark and wide
I ponder to make sense of my finite self
My own small world, filled with a million demands
How foolish they seem in the scheme of all this
What lies there beyond...in this vast universe
To blame anyone else for the earth and it's pain
I look to myself, and see there is no gain
One shooting star...then another comes close
Like fireworks...the sky is a canvas, predisposed
Burning a hole in the blackness of space
Reminders to me that this earth is a gift
A gift to each one, a gift for each day
Another star falls, in a firestorm so bright
Leaving an imprint within my insight
Of the endless wonders we usually ignore
I will look to the sky where my answers now lie
The heavenly comfort that is standing by
Oh, the mystery that lies in the Milky Way
And the planets we see, and the ones that we can't
Again all reminders that we aren't mere ants
The white ice that blazes all over the sky
Leaves a trail that has purpose, ...............and so do I
They Can have Weapons, Protect themselves, but We cannot..?
With all you know and all you suppose,
It stands to reason then, does it not,
Our innate ability, although predisposed..
To suffering and our tragic lot
To protect one's family against all foes..
They have armies guns and worse,
Humanity now perceives it has lost,
To gain insight listen, reciting verse,
You couldn't actually count the cost
So into oblivion, or to relinquish those,
That enslave you now though still unbeknownst,
The origins of which are -
A considerably dark violent ethos,
For this evil Cabaal a prepared cuisine
No further cooking is required to feed,
Mindless zombies into satanic pot,
No way out if you do not fight back,
Hang on..
They Can have Weapons, Protect themselves, but We cannot..?
So Second Amendment then not withstanding,
All future generations must now depend upon,
Humanity's capacity, to now comprehending,
A well armed Militia under the stars,
Requires..
The simple right to defend what's ours,
Whether they know it now or not,
As in this case then Life itself,
We must now preserve it
But do not take a bow,
Or accept technocratic enslavement by mass
A.I Bot..
Our children our ancestors to honour - or to disavow,
Lament sad willful indulgence or..
Stand up and fight for God's
gift to us,
And in his name.
Consider these words to then discuss,
Compliant inertia only festers blame,
Protect all goodness in essential
Trust
For all of us here and not just me,
Remember..,
Material Spiritual, all or bust..
If they can have weapons then so can We.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
During covid 19 lockdown
Jan 22 2022
The PoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
Straight lines can not be drawn
Forget about circles and their kind
Squares, triangles, are too far from reach
Only Plato can do such designs I think
In the world of the Forms in the beyond
God too can do this when so inclined
When predisposed to perform such miracles
Nestled softly in the void He toys with nature
Pen and paper take color to another level
God gave us Art for pleasures full perfection
That magic to be imagined with pure light
With dark with love inspired
Struck like a match in heavens imagination
Rolled over once or twice for good measure
Erased in time sometimes
Repeated until we get it right
The next challenge is set..
hhmmmphh game on
Enter contests he says.
But they're boring by the third attempt at rhyme
And my mind cannot keep time.
Nor does it read all the bits you must master
and err is prevalent if you review my disaster
Summer is not my flavour
as autumn I am predisposed...
but to choose one of plenty
I cannot be told.
No! He says, that is not the task.
Choosing one is too easy
For the mind that you grasp
Enter all .. ALL!
Holy crap are you mad!
Its the challenge I've set
Now begone.
What a ratbag!
Irked, quite assuredly
I lay there and pondered
Is he truly serious I wondered?
As i fought with myself on anothers ideas
I perused all the lists rather than smack his ears.
And binary became the attraction so clear
that i dragged my sorry butt out of bed
and now i am here.
Dedication:
To God and Innocence
Today was a day born of imagery.
As if born from a child's dream.
The leaves were swirling, golden and crimson,
auburn and cream.
So scent treant, alive, it deemed.
The sound breezed softly,
churning whiskered branches.
Foliage and vibrations caught in their advances.
I may have woken up predisposed, expecting.
But it wasn't just me connecting to me.
Someone was directing, an Act III.
Something from my dreams attached itself and was
sentiently released in it's new world-blessed,
and met with it's liberator to walk a spell among
the trees and me and the stealthy nests.
In a visitation of a baptism and a dream
crossing over.
released, in roll
a reversal of momentary captivity scroll
of my mind's eye
in order to be ultimately freed.
As I walked there in the fragrances of the forest
amongst Life's Grove of Tree.
A girl with wings sassy slapped me as a walk-by.
A signature move that says for no particular reason.
"Hello."
Someone, put a warning sign on that attitude,
such rare earth and good to the soul to find.
A golden touch, out of the blue and filling
the clear expanse of my mind.
A random act from a stranger, that
equated to "hello brother I am meeting
for the first time.?"
'Just think,
eons from now as we look and talk of our Genesis.
Remember the beautiful day we first met.
A birthday for our relationship, albeit-
a landmark, well received, straight to the mark.
By more than a kindled Spirit.
But of a kindred Spirit with a flint and it's spark.