Long Prefer Poems
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The worlds Ugliest Poem
Think chaos will become the new norm
in this world where life and words are cheap
think there'll be bodies littering the streets
and blood rolling into the gutters
from people killing their neighbors
just to get a little something to eat
and a place to lay their heads at night to sleep
think their'll be rioting all around
scorched earth the only ground
will we cry out unto God
or will we simply blame him
I wonder what things will be like
for the innocent little children
Oh how I wish we could stop right now
before anything like this happens
and it happens
yeah, it happens
mostly in war torn nations
and those that are so very poor
and what makes any of us think that we are better than them
think our nation is not filled to the brim
it could happen
yeah, it'll probably happen
because we don't know how to live
and our ministers preach personal salvation
how can we inherit the kingdom of heaven
if we forsake our own nation
or are we forsaken
by the leaders that we trust
are they are part of us
or have they become so rich and full of pride
that it's time to knock them down to size
before this happens
because it happens
Oh my God have mercy
for I fear this time there'll be no place to hide
here I sit writing and typing
it's all I can do all balled up inside
filled with fear and anxiety
and I type and type and I type
striving to warm them and explain to them why
yet it seems all of my words are in vain
it's as if
my work is little more than a strange curiosity
and sometimes I wonder if it's me or the world that's insane
they prefer lies so nice
I guess it makes them feel like everything is OK
don't lift the Vail or just might see me
and who wants to believe that their'll be hell to pay
for all the children starving in the streets
that have no place to stay
all dirty and full of disease
how can we turn them away
and some of these are angels
think they can hear you pray
at night before you go to sleep
without worry or pain
it happens
yeah, it happens
and it could happen to you
think your life is fool proof
I wonder if chaos will be the new norm
I wonder if it already is
at least to some extent
cancer is on the rise
and how can we possibly fix this
maybe I just worry to much
maybe I should just turn on the TV
and watch something fun
while it happens
yeah, while it happens
Form:
The world of Expectations
Expectations, do – in all likelihood – become frustrations.
They, in their painful anger, do become manipulations,
of both – both the aching heart and the fragile soul
and of the one’s you seem to want to know
and would prefer to show.
So, what one must do , is set them free, let them go
so that the seeds, one needs, in order to sow,
might have a chance – into something – grow.
Expectations, therefore laden the load, hamper creation,
making for uncertainties and difficulties in any situation.
WORDS
Words fly upon gossamer wings of invisible angles,
from sources of universal / internal, unseen energy,
to and through the fragile tips of my crystalline,
clear fingers, like specks of light, fireflies
out of the darkness of my mind, to light up,
- in shades of gray or rainbow colours, bright -
the empty spaces that wait to be filled.
Those pieces, - eight and a half by eleven – of paper,
pages I write, - for the sight of others – of shadows
that are cast upon the retinas of the minds that look,
upon, read, see, understand the essence of this old man.
Dawning of this day has come to us in untarnished,
Salvador Dalí, blues, chaperoned by a blinding glow
– that bright, life sustaining, golden orb radiating down –
giving light to this early mornings life, life in this tiny,
portion of this great blue planet – my multi coloured tomb,
my four cornered room, where loony size orbs , of violet,
indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange and red orbit, slither,
– in their cloak of rainbow colours – these coloured comets,
their tails streaking across, upon, all-around an ocean
of material objects, objects of historical value,
objects – a visual representations of , pages of my history
basking in the light of beautifully coloured flakes of rainbows,
drifting, rainbow specks, coloured splotches splashed across
the eggshell white bars of this prison I sometimes inhabit,
this tiny little universe washed in history and colours.
This beautifully coloured day was brought to me by crystals,
chipped at – pieces cut away by the hands of artisans –
by the hand of man to allow light – white and clear –
to be refracted, reflecting, releasing to sight, that which
the human eye is unable to comprehend, to see.
Rainbows filled my day – too bad they could not stay.
Then again, that would be asking to much, isn’t that the way ?
B. J. “A ” 2
October 27th 2002
My mind is as fascinated with investments and divestments
as my body is attracted to healthy and beautiful vestments,
and haunted by prospects of naked loss of home
and integral identity.
My vested interests emerge issues and concerns about nutrition,
as opposed to malnutrition.
Nutrition, whether economic or political,
pursues ecologically systemic complexity.
PolyCultural nutrition can be consumed and produced by a healthy cooperative ecosystem,
while a monoculturally disturbed and aggressive absence of balance
harmony
grace
perpetuates internal v external systemic trauma.
We would all prefer,
regardless of cultural history of our vestments,
avoiding Other's aggressive win/lose values
without win/win cooperative body-health/mind-wealth merit
as effectively democratic,
confluently inclusive,
peacefully compassionate
as possible
through clear polypathic discernment,
multiculturally resilient wellness
passion/pleasure co-invested,
economically and politically co-arising
enlightening and empowering
compelling
spacious and timeless
harmoniously cooperative wealth
overwhelmingly vested
in nondual co-arising
mind/body
passion/pleasure climaxing
wealth/health co-infested experience
Whether the pantheistically connected mind of an ant
or polypathically EarthMother nurtured human,
whether the soulful voice of a river
or polyculturing choices of a rich forest,
or the SunFather enlightened spirit
of EarthMother's empowering cooperative nature
My mind invests in
and divests of
anthropocentric economic and political
monoculturing monotheistic history
Of healthy bodies and beautiful minds
spaciously and timelessly
haunted by monoculturing prospects
of sacred EarthMother's loveless loss,
homeless absence
of cooperatively organic
panentheistic Gaian integrity.
EarthTribe's co-empathic
beautifully invested mind,
fascinating co-empathic body-divestments,
where curious polypathic nature's nutrition
cultivates spiritual-mental health diversions,
spaciously enlightened and timelessly wealthy
co-arising authentically enlightened
and integrally empowering
bicameral left/righteousness
Polypathically organic minds
fascinated with investments and divestments
of panentheistically sacred bodies
attracted to politically healthy
and economically wealthy
creolizing Gaian co-infestments.
The mind is a womb
Copulate it
Let the semen of reason
Part the legs of its cervix
And you will see
When moth struggles before its born
The power of its dreams for flight
Words are eggs, you know
Virginal eggs,
I saw him hatch them into bricks
Of ideas that he could carve
Like an Edna exhibit
All copulation must spontaneous
A true gentleman has that gift
Not to force his feelings
On his betrothed
He was also scholar, you know
A sort of poet
That prefer metaphors to the conflict
Of chisel and wood
He had such a mastery of the rhetoric
I mean he understood them better than us
For he did not only speak like them
But spoke their strategy better than them
I sometimes wondered how he knew himself
Apart.
Its sort of seemed ironic
That he did have the anger that Fanon composed
Unless wit is a subtle part of it
May be environment is such a part of it
The cool, I mean
We say that about Manchesterians
Roxborough,
If it could produce the soldier-scholar
Could not have produced just a little fire
Even for the cremation of his brother, Roy
Perhaps it was the mix blood ...
Busta said that his mother was Taino
I do not understand is who mixed them though
There is an overt statement of force to be made
A rape scrubbed from the memory
For how could one half of hm
Become so invisible ...
The mission I mean.
I must rule
More than wood, and more
Than water
For my destiny
Is more than what men may leech
So I am not exploited
I am killed for this robbery
And here I am left
A dead man on a throne
Here I am
Shrouded with self government
And staring into the empty eyes
Of children
So why do I love him then
Was it alone because my father
Fashioned my world for me
Gave me this icon
For proximity the barbarians
Who snatched my mother
Washing her white linen one day
From the sweet river
Do not take that thought to the bank
Where my children play
This man deserves his accolade
If only for taking blindness from my mind
If only for letting me know
The chain had never rattled their
And even in their own words
I could look at the world
And ask "why not?"
He gave me a ladder to my education
That was some gift,
Quite the best of all I am given
O it so beautiful to copulate the mind
Or hold hands through the annals
And see this Manley,
This little fountain of great ambition
Flowing at my lips.
Snakes And Mr. Baines
By Curtis Johnson
The phrase, “A snake in the grass”, has often been expressed toward certain individuals. Such a powerful and direct metaphor of treachery, is it not?
Among the first stories ever heard by me involved a snake that was up to no good.
Perhaps from that point, my opinion of snakes was sealed, and I have avoided them if I could. Growing up in the country, I saw them occasionally, but was not unduly afraid of them. Because of heavy chemical use on the farm, being bitten by snakes was probably slime.
I had lots of friends, lots of freedom, and a good dog name Jack.
We hunted for blackberries along the banks of the railroad tracks. We roamed the country sides, and played fearlessly in the grassy weeds. We had things to do and places to go, and never any time to worry about snakes.
There’s a wild kingdom out there, and may all of God’s creatures survive and forever be. But the hissing, crawling, rattling, and the twirling are out of my comfort zone. Nevertheless, there’s a place for snakes, as long as that place is away from me.
I once saw a snake curled up in a bush. Nearly touching him, I was startled.
My boss and I were gardening. With little concern, he said to me, “He’s just a chicken snake”.
Whether chicken or king, rattles or moccasins;
Whether harmless or causing deadly pain, I prefer to keep my distance all the same
My father had a friend who lived just up the road from us in a big house.
He looked mean and sometimes acted the part, but I liked him and thought he was brave. He was one snake slinging man, and I was his biggest fan.
Back then, if my father’s friend Mr. Baines saw a snake, he’d grab it by the tail, sling it around, and pop its head off. But the world has changed; wild life is well protected, and many things have been banned. How sad, is it not, that there is not a ban on “snakes in the grass”? Perhaps the day will come when they can be caught and have, not their heads, but their poisonous venom popped out of them. Meanwhile, we best keep avoiding all snakes; and I do miss Mr. Baines.
Cj08052015
Perche Sono Me IV (Fire)
It’s been a long time since I have told anyone why I was myself and why I am me. It was long ago that I dictated three prose poems on this matter. The same questions have come up; newer ones add to my plight. I am single because I will not settle for anyone who only fulfills the needs of my loins. I prefer a person that arouses my intellect and respect for her. The people I have met only meet one of those criteria, except one meeting two of the three. Still, to get all three is a challenge. Even getting two of the three is a challenge.
Why are you Single?
I am myself because of the pain I have endured by many who have claimed to want of me while they were giving a kiss of deceit. Playing with anyone's emotions is an unethical crime that haunts the perpetrator later in life. Several females who claim to know what they want are falling and feeling the pain they deserve for what they wanted was not deserved or earned. If you are stupid enough to want a bridge and house built for you without contributing to the production, then do not expect to have them when the man has built them. Of course, an unethical man will claim to have these until you are trapped and left out in the trash. Do not expect the good man to take you in, as you are not recyclable. When you give up on wanting a respectable man, you give up on being respectable to yourself. Your pain and the pain of your children were caused by you pursuing the pleasure of your false beliefs. One of them believed that she wanted a person of her faith. He could not commit to the person of free milk. He used her for five years. HARK to her for showing disrespect to herself and her daughter. Now, she is with someone who cares about how they treat her. Putting aerosol on excrement does not make a candle's scent flow in the breeze.
What type of partner do you want to marry?
Education is vital to me as I have seen many go to school only to find a mate or find a person to mate with. It is pretty disturbing that the goal is procreation and recreation. It is wiser to find someone who matches the qualities of a good girlfriend or wife if they meet the higher qualities. If you want a good friend, find someone with the qualities of a good girlfriend. If you want a good girlfriend, find someone who would make a good wife. If you want a good wife, then focus on these two aspects.
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
"Saddo...Saddo...",she kept calling me,
Yeah,I was sad,
So I was named Saddo,
Flowers fell from highest branches,
Fruits fell from tall branches,
My days were full of worries and mess,
Series of bad occurrence,
Many that laughed with me,
Same see me and mock about what I've lost,
The blame is to be,
Toes stiffed in wet shoes distort,
I'm not pitied,
People to whom I exercised religiosity to,doesn't account me as to be tricked,
Mortgage at last have all my belongings outside the road,"Disgrace...disgrace...what a disgrace",
No one want to see the shadow of a race,
'Tom the finest',your end is someone's beginning,
Gone are the days when they use to call me a balloon,
I lacked nothing,...my name was a tool,
Is it a spell they've used on me?
"Join my fraternity,and you'll stand tall again",
Proposal comes in from friends and sympathisers vain,
Even my wife want me to avail myself to that,
Who is on my side to caution in fact,
Hope and trust in God is not allowing me to give up on gust,
Situations of life is ridiculing fast,
Which road should I pass?
A billionaire is now an outcast,
Every night I count the stars,
I see so many falling,
Who saw my star fall?
Who is ready to tell me everything?
People wowed only seeing me in bad condition,
Others to wonder of how this perdition came to being,
Hands are at a speed to raise sanction,
And based on the tenet They've written to me,
I prefer being down,
Dad died leaving me not even a pen,
Advice he gave,is shielding four whole men,
"Everything has its moment",so this agony is now demonstrating a fact,
Moving through a formless cloud,vainly does fowls in the air matters act,
Like an iceberg on fire,Slowly is the torment fading,
Hard work admitted me to chamber of wealth,
A short while,I'm outside here fenced by poverty belt,
"Funny...funny,clearly this story is funny",
Will my children also be left without a sheet of paper?
"If so will present the case,it maybe notched to grandpa,
A lineage",said softly to my youngest daughter,
Replies to me"Don't assume",
Words were lost inside room,
"Your consolation to me is not palliative",
Made that point fairly to a comparative,
One step that took me to thousand miles drown,
The same number of step left me down,
Closing myself in the coffin,
"Vanity is satisfying,but baseless",the mourner sobered in.
The human being
(also referred throughout history
as 'long pig' and 'hairless goat'
in the case of younger specimens)
Observing the anatomy and skeleton,
one can see that the human animal
after death young tender meat.
The large central pelvis and broad shoulder blades
also interfere with achieving perfect cuts.
There are advantages to this however,
especially due to the fact that the specimen girl
will weigh between 100-200 pounds,
easily manipulated by one man with proper leverage.
Controlled environments like institutions or jails before.
Health and diet to outward appearances maintained.
Humans are not very kind to the dead here it is why you are.
You are an unknown to me
thus subject to an enormous range of diseases,
infections, chemical imbalances,
and poisonous bad habits, all typically decreasing with age.
I personally prefer calm firm caucasian females
in their early teens.
These are 'ripe'.
But the saw varies from cut to cut,
and again there it is a very large herd to choose from.
The M.E.)
Medical Examiner will need a fairly large room and sufficient space
in which to work (an interior location is suggested)
and a large table for a butcher's block.
A central overhead support will need to be chosen
or installed ahead of time to hang the young body from.
Large tubs or barrels for blood
and waste trimmings should be convenient,
and a water source close by.
Most of the work can be done with a few simple tools.
Sharp, clean short and long bladed knives,
a cleaver or hatchet, and a hacksaw and ribspreaders.
Body Preparation requires plenty of water.
This helps flush the system,
purging stored toxins and bodily wastes,
as well as making bleeding and cleaning easier.
This one I will call Jane doe 007
was found at a bar stunned into insensitivity.
Sharp unexpected blows to the head put her at rest
quite is best, tranquilizers being recommended
If this is not possible without exciting the body
and causing a longer struggle (which then pumps
a greater volume of blood
and secretions such as adrenaline throughout the body
A single bullet through the middle of the forehead
exiting the back of the skull here did nice.
For what ever reason her companion is here right beside her.
Is is called murder suicide I think it is two suicides.
Whom ever goes last gets the cellophane wrap.
I might be able to bring an end to all of the world’s turmoil and strife,
Because I think that I have stumbled upon the one true meaning of life.
It seems it all began a long time ago when Adam got his Eve,
Let me tell it to you right away so that you might soon believe.
The Lord made Adam fall to sleep and then He took from him a rib,
He said “From this I’ll make a woman,” He wasn’t trying to be glib.
If there’s one thing in this world I know it’s that ribs should come in racks,
And they always should come in one of two ways, St. Louis or baby backs.
I prefer the baby backs although St. Louis style has its fans,
You should be able to enjoy either one you like with dry rub or sans.
You’ll need to coordinate the type of wood you want to use for smoke,
That reminds me I wanted to remember to tell you this woodsy joke.
It seems there was this young tree hugger, who chained herself to a tree,
She told the logger who came for it that you’ll have to cut through me.
He said, “Lady, with the chest you’ve got I’ll need to get a bigger saw,
You shouldn’t be aloud to wear a shirt that tight at least without a bra.”
Now that I think of it, my own shirt is getting kind of tight,
I think that the time to start a diet might just about be right.
With what I’ve been through I’ve added on one or two extra pounds,
Maybe this weekend I should try to golf one or two extra rounds.
But golfing is the kind of sport that takes up so much of my time,
Perhaps to get myself in better shape a stair master I should climb.
When I climb the stairs to go to bed at night, I really am so tired,
Sometimes I start to think about the things to which I have aspired.
And I wonder if the things that I’ve done will ever add up in my life,
Then I turn out the bedroom lights and I kiss my ever-loving wife.
That’s when it dawns on me that no matter how my mind is leaning,
At that precise moment it’s the thing that gives my life its meaning.
That gauzy speculation may be as fleeting as a whisper from a dream,
But the next inspiration waits in line for its turn, in my eye to gleam.
So please remember that the life you have is a gift from our Creator,
Enjoy every second you’re given and live it like there won’t be any later.
I hope the meaning of your life is clearer to you now and this can be a sign,
But if you’re even more confused, at least you’ve found the meaning of mine.