Long Resort to 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
I Don't Believe in Slavery
By Franklin Price
07/01/2020
I don't believe in slavery of any class or creed.
Slavery most always comes from power and from greed.
When the rich don't have the riches, to control what they survey,
They oft resort to slavery, as they did back in the day.
The ones who built the pyramids and most the wonders of this earth
The powerful said they did it, but enslavement gave them birth.
Not so much has changed today, the rich and powerful control.
They take advantage of the lower class and their methods take a toll
When profit margins start to sag, the workers are first hit
No way the rich should suffer, no not even just a bit
Send the work to foreign nations where their dollar is our dime
Sounds like slavery to me, for the rich it's not a crime
To put our own on welfare doesn't cost the rich a cent.
For the taxes that they pay, doesn't even make a dent.
The middle class will pay for it, that's the way that it should be
It's time we stood up for ourselves, and threw the tea into the sea
I don't know many of the rich, who have made it on their own,
Except for some who bet on stocks, or won the lottery alone.
Most on the backs of others, while staying out of touch
Not paying out a living wage; Is that Slavery?; not so much.
At least that's the way they see it, yes I'm speaking of the rich
And our government who helps them, now isn't life a .
Who do you think finances them, these leaders of the land.
If you think the ones on welfare, then you just don't understand.
The longer they are on the hill, the richer they become.
Enslaved there by the richest, they've forgotten where they're from
They think they are the royalty, ones who control the land.
We must oust them in November. It's time the people took a stand.
We're supposed to be the government, instead we're just its slaves
If we don't stand up to Washington, we'll take enslavement to our graves
We've got to pull together, red and yellow, black and white
Rid ourselves tyranny, put some new blood in the fight
I hope it's not too late for us, and this country that we love
The statues and the monuments, remnants of much push and shove.
Our way of life's not easy, we must retain the peoples' power.
What happens in November could be our worst or finest hour.
I never knew she was bleeding and pleading,
Until I turned to see the blood in her eyes,
And the agonies tearing her apart.
Rejected and dejected, she gasps for breath,
Humiliation and intimidation - written all over her gloomy soul,
Like curves of interpenetration of a sphere intersecting a cone.
Still licking wounds from savagery and ruthlessness,
The last dead body in her hands dropped on the floor,
That was her seven years old son,
The sting and pang of cruelty penetrates my brain,
Leaving me with lasting pains that remain,
Because she had been starving for months,
With oppression stronger than death.
Her tears were like a river overflowing its banks,
And she asked me,
“Could this be the way God wants it?”
Why am I denied of my rights, for a fair fight?
I sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion,
My hurrying thoughts clamored for utterance,
But my heart and lips were full of speechless sorrow.
As the chill of the night crept in from the street,
To all the houses that scattered over the slums like ant-hills,
The sun laid golden-soft over the huddled hills of the West coast,
More gunshots thundered across the neighbourhood,
A thin shrill voice like the cry of an expiring mouse,
was only heard from a very far distance.
She took me to her backyard,
Showed me graves on the ground with monumental inscriptions,
And she said;
There lies my daughter, who was raped to death,
There lies my husband, who stood for justice,
There lays my son who died in peace keeping,
Can all these valuable bloods be wasted for nothing’s sake?
Surviving schools were dilapidated,
The past is horrible, the future is uncertain,
The present is life threatening and monstrous,
Prison walls are raised daily in all the provinces,
The few privileged students in institutions are studying Act of War
‘Casus belli’
The economy is dropping as more jobless youths resort to crimes,
Hospitals and the strict streets are getting more congested with dead bodies.
All these made me to wonder,
If we are all living to die or dying to live,
I still ask,
Is there a place for the women, their rights and joy in the society?
Because the pains, brutality and humiliation are unbearable,
Surprisingly, her name was Hope,
But honestly, she was hopeless.
This Citizen Banker
safely in his compound doth attest,
sans donning his typical
gabbling and trumpeting ways,
while legally tendered,
currently being cents
less lee swept away
soul fully - bellow
wing from my chest
(with fortissimo, the
whirling wide webbed
watery tidal swells
rivaling the peak
of Mount Everest)
reef furring to being
nearly reduced to poverty
hence, essentially buck
king the tide while washed out -
since day short and dollar late
circumstances force me
to cash worthless buffalo chips
astutely as you correctly guessed
from deep pull horrible
United States economic situation,
where option non
existent against invest
ting, nesting, and squirreling
financial resources jest
accessible for wealthy people
to sync investment portfolios
region of popular tax haven,
viz Cayman Islands lest
hefty costs accrue
keeping scrupulously stashed re:
sources untouchable,
where Uncle Sam canst
access ex cell lent
healthy maturing outlook
king monies, and understandable
at rage against the machine
if rainy day funds messed
up, but solvent versus
debts drowning oneself
unable to stay afloat,
where declaring Chapter 7 bankruptcy
doomed to bobbing
within a sinking boat,
and where pointless
to pull out all the whistle stops
including abandoning resorting
to heroic measures
while additionally futile
to shed tears and emote
only kidding self to seek out goat
tam ma Buddha, nor will
I resort to gofundme
(cuz ma last name NOT Kardashian),
but matter of fact lee
roll with the figurative punches
feigning tubby Jew Dee
or an incarnation
of Muhammad Ali
during his ready for prime time Box
sing rebellious jabbering
left fist out fox
sing prize fighter un
defeated champ with mox
see, his champion modesty
oozed muscles like rocks,
a bankable one man
Gibraltar with precious
mettle to the core,
not wanting with his pugilistic,
yet homegrown genteel
ringing true mark
solid core state athletically valued
bankable bonded stocks.
(witch role an unavoidable mandatory phase)
that nowadays breaks the piggybank
like a dropped fragile vase
you most likely nod assent if offspring grown,
or ponder new found challenge
expectant motherhood costs of progeny
take the following precendent all ways.
deux daughters desiduous teeth comprise
sum total of forty milky pearl white
whereat each healthy tooth
a miraculous bite size bit
of jaw dropping wizardry to in vite
a tasty morsel to get chewed,
until at some arbitrary time
(incumbent on each individual biological clock),
the second set thwart aside
(or sometime literally override)
these baby choppers right
fully as sought after treatures for the tooth fairy
(oft time disguised as part
of canine corp) offer sterling sight,
but fascinating as each replicated, punctuated,
lacteal dentition adorned with a pulp,
dentin, enamel, and cementum quite
a complex miniature edifice,
or a more apropos metaphor fielding sprite
would be a picket fence with important slats,
and thus a challenging plight
arises when a child shows their mother or father
gapped smile, and understands
to place tooth under pillow at night
when quiet as a mouse (who to be honest
create scratching sounds) the might
tee tooth fairy doth descend (nowadays
resort to global positioning
satelline application)
to find their way without turning on the light
soundless and still as a dust mote
feign being a knight
less to rescue a damsel, maybe
one baby step ahead of her/his insight
expecting to disover a modest wad of cash,
if stood on end, rather sizable in height
and essentially necessitating po' papa
to take out a loan, or hope flight
of fancy wish to win the lottery,
which would exite
self or spouse, but reality in league
with the fickle finger of fate doth disappoint and delight
son or daughter boasting to classmates,
how the rich tooth fairy (iz actually a faux pas
sham shaman, dirt poor father, bled dry,
whose coutenance (visible after break of day)
reflects that of one who barely survived a catfight
with finances in tatters as if
one money hungry toothless fairy took a bite.
Form:
You wanted to have me as your girlfriend
Knowing that I was saving my body
For the man should I one day wed
I am fifty-six years old now
And still never been married
But I continue to believe it’s possible
As a little girl I dreamt
Of marriage and true love
Not sleeping with a boyfriend
My dream didn’t consider
To settle and play house
With someone who I’d never marry
You don’t believe in marriage
Yet you want all the benefits of marriage
Without making the vows
But you knew from the start
Where I stood with my body
It wasn’t a subject to debate
You said you understood
And that you would respect my boundaries
So how come you began to complain?
We kissed and held hands
I was content with the exchange
But you kept saying, “More!”
Your balls turned blue and hurt
What’s that got to do with me?
I’m not the one to fix it
With a distorted face
Your preoccupation with sex
My need for the subject to change
“How about this…” I suggest
“Go take a cold shower”
And you took offense in that
But you lied to me
You got yourself aroused
And wanted to have sex regardless
You created the problem
And blamed me for it
But It was not my problem
You resort to watching ****
The volume muted on your phone
And think I’m stupid
Your preoccupation for sex
Your boredom with my company
The attitude that you’re being deprived
The distance you created
Miles away in your thinking
As you watch naked women on your phone
Shouldn’t I be the offended
You are already unfaithful
We haven’t even been together one month
Now I have a problem
It’s dealing with your ignorance
You didn’t keep your word
But I kept mine
And I can’t tell you how glad I am
For doing it
I would have hated myself
If I gave in to your pressure
It would have been too late
You would have got
The one thing you wanted
And I would still be unmarried
You wouldn't have cared
As I’m left with the emptiness
Of knowing I betrayed my self
We are no longer together
But I still have my virtue
That comes with no regrets
What this has done for me
Is strengthen my resolve
I didn’t sell out.
Even if I never marry
I will remain faithful to my promise
Knowing the treasure I possess.
When perfection is at its best it’s all you could ever think about
And everything that goes with it you can’t seem to do without
Even when you’ve been through hard times it fades in the background
When you compare them to the unattainable goal you’ve just found
It seems as if this is your only water in the middle of your drought
All you can see is how large, how flawless, how exciting it all seems
And the desire to have it permeates all your thoughts and dreams
Nothing else seems to matter, your family or your life
You allow your pursuits to cause you so much strife
And slowly, string by string, you unravel at the seams
It’s like an open book, and you think you’ve memorized every word
Or like the song that keeps playing that it seems you’ve always heard
You know every letter, every conversation, and every event
You know every tune, every melody, and every beat that’s spent
And that depth of knowledge keeps your love spurred
You never stop to consider perfection is only relative
And that every positive side is coupled with a negative
You can’t erase the past and you can only move on
But you can make sure that life doesn’t make you its pawn
So that you can stop dreaming and take initiative
There’s so much you just don’t notice when you read between the lines
And when you look too hard you’re forced to resort to being blind
You see the cup as totally full when it’s empty
You see the outside as clean but don’t know the inside is dirty
And no matter how hard you scrub or you try residue is still left behind
It’s like the loss of wind from fully blowing sails
And like being trapped in a circle where everything fails
You’ve lost every dream, every inspiration, every hope
And every word, every song, everything that helps you cope
Is crumbling down and leaving its devastating trails
So never fail to look past the outside to what is within
Always stop to look at what you’ll lose and what you’ll win
Because when everything seems so full but it’s actually hollow
And you find that such an empty life isn’t what you want to follow
It will be too late because the cycle has started again
When perfection is at its best it’s all you could ever think about…
If we ever meet
If you ever see me
Where shall I stand?
Where shall it be?
From dreams deep and dark I dreamt
Frequently during night and day I visit it
More times than you will ever know
More often then I would dare admit
Inconsequently the frequency grows
Sending chills throughout my body and fingertips
This is no coincidence
This is destiny at its sweetest
Made to bloom from years of commitment-
My commitment to be yours, no matter the consequence
If once, if only...
Buried beneath flesh made stiff
From the merging of two bodies joined
Joined at the widening of lovers hips
If we ever speak
If ever you were to know me
To speak my name and repeat it joyfully
Spoken into crevices of dirt unspoiled to me;
"I am yours," I repeat, "I am yours and yours alone, eternally"
Such promises would not to be taken lightly
When given as gift from heart kindly
With sincere truth I speak
With righteous devotion I keep
Careful to tread with light feet
As so not to appear conquering when we do finally meet
When, where? Only then will I know of relief
Until then I refuse to resort to man-made trickery
If we ever come to know one another
If ever I am to come to you outside of my dreams
Your hand in mine I will take
Wrenching it and caressing it generously-
Feverishly...
Tenderly, as my desire refuses to wait
My desire refuses crushing
Refuses to be dismissed or refrained
As I speak to you, of you and yet just...
My hope is to someday be near you
Near you and out of this magicians dream dust
To be free of it and free to declare my love
Without restriction or interest in criticism
Both I have known too much of
I speak it, it is spoken
Gifted and I pray received
As if traveling by motor boat
Cutting through waves and currents pushing upstream
This thing, this love I have come to acquaint
Eyes made vision and truthful as I imagine us face to face
Given no dialect, no dialogue, no sense of direction or pace
To be, and yet to have come from two such distantly different states
Makes one's body surge and curve while remaining in one place
Because as I've said, if we ever meet
If ever you are to see me-
I promise our meeting will come to no such waste.
Beard looks weird,
that's a lyrical genius to be feared,
you wrote a 6 year song and got the facts wrong,
fired with the hair and safety still on,
I guess that scope's just a tele,
with sights and hopes on the tele,
Machine Bun Shelly,
initials, MBS, Caps empty,
Mostly Bull Sh……
a superficial sipping soup to his belly
or is it breakfast for a serial prodigy,
steadfast out selling cereal probably,
problems with his intellectual property
so he's just a prop to stop and see.
6'4 and standing taller,
picking on a man, his wife and his daughter,
who needs protection ay,
you're a big and bad ball-less brawler,
that's the shallowest level you can resort to,
and though it's none of my bees wax,
you did it to be witnessed and receive plaques,
but it was easy and witless like corny flakes,
the business doesn't need Autotune fakes,
forcing the rhyme like all you want is a smoke,
not literally you'd choke, that's such a weak joke,
clearly begging for your songs to be bought up,
as if we went from Shady please stand up,
to worshipping a hairband on a no flair brand corrupt
and yeah I admit some of it was good, generous, but look,
with 6 years to write it should have been off the hook,
this lame ass your best and you took as long as you could,
when your next hits out you'll remember when you last stood,
and you'll be mocked by the only line that was any good,
MGK can't stand up,
that'll get you like Cranbrook,
from Cleveland Ohio,
leave now and fly home.
Note the depth and the many double entendre in this,
written within an hour of hearing that diss,
MGK's peak, now for the diss-appearance,
I've heard you can't write your own lyrical sentence,
that's dense, how you ever gona go the distance,
now go into the distance with your spoon and bowl,
you had your 15 minutes so back to your hole.
Part 2: Picking the rhymes apart and taking a shot, on my page to read now.
* the second line is a double entendre,
a serious comment about Eminem and a sarcastic one about MGK, you know, cus rhyming beard and weird is amazing haa.
* Hair and safety clip on
* Just a tele, a telescope
* Initials - cus MGK initials but Eminem doesn't M&M
Lost pieces of my soul
flow downstream, on rivers
where I once swam
amid the pearls of peace
bleeding from shadows
carved into the stones,
hallucinations swelling
on the sandcastle shores,
where I resort to paddling
like a dog swimming upstream,
singing of mysteries
who live amid the silent trees
listen to the gurgle of the waters,
melting into yesterday
with smooth, still colors
bruising the sinuous glow
of an afterthought, a moment
dew kissed by the sun
falling quietly among the fish
who linger in the clear, cool fluid,
curving across the night
and restoring the moon, the stars
with a reflection of how it feels
to be fluent in unending
grace, surging over the quiet stories
and the night fades, misty eyed
and pulsating, rhythms
rising amid the heavy ache
a teardrop falls
and I know what it means
to remember that day
left behind, in a place
where only my heart can travel
and feel the unlikely dusk,
risking ghostlike prayers
who speak, inaudibly
of a moment before the river
knew the sea
before the night
knew the grief
before the wind
knew my wings
In silence, I see
the river, who grieves
for the moments
blessed by sweet peace,
moments, I now see
were prayers with wings,
praising the One who gave to me
the river’s gentle flow,
the moon’s soft glow,
the wonders that I know
wrote poetry between the lines
of my soul’s streams,
the rush of euphoria that came
from the embrace
of the river’s whoosh,
the water’s caress
the rustle of faint feelings
flowing amid the epiphanies
walking in the eternal
where I’ll forever be
a part of God’s creativity,
a music that plays so sweet,
it quiets the lonely in me,
replaces the lost with three –
the hope, faith and love
that I believe – I found
in the Son who died for me,
the ONE who walked on water
and took the pain from me!
I will forever be grateful
for the love that made me free,
the love that is every soul’s dream
the love that sings so sweet,
the love that He poured into me
when He forgave me and saved me,
lifting the weight
that would have drowned me.
Now I rest in the quiet peace
that comes from knowing
the joy of His love!