Long Serve up Poems
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I worked 25 years for a company that taught me several valuable lessons, but one has stood far and above all other lessons learned from that company. They taught me to 'check and double-check' and always 'assume nothing'.
I once had a friend who never realized that maybe her preconceived conclusion was not only subconsciously prejudicial but also offensive to me, and whereas I could have been righteously indignant toward her, I chose not to be. She never knew because we never discussed my beliefs about the subject matter. She was an older person set in her ways, and when she spoke in such an uninformed manner, I did not want to set her straight. So both in mind and in my heart, I forgave her of her serious 'lack of understanding'.
Barack Obama was running for president, and my white friend assumed because
I was Black like Obama, I would be voting for him to be president. She assumed wrongly. She lacked understanding about the fact that there are 10% of Blacks who vote 'Republican', unlike the 90% that traditionally vote 'Democratic'. She therefore lacked the understanding of me and my beliefs. She passed on several years ago, never knowing that she offended me. I knew her to be a good person and a personal friend with no offense intended. If I chose to correct every person that offended me, I would be overly busy.
I tell this story because it is very relevant to the times we are presently experiencing. These times are not new, but they continue to surface because we never solve them. At best, we conversate but seldom communicate. We investigate and facilitate, but we fall short of compensating with justice. I learned more from listening to my friend's discourse than I ever could have by correcting, arguing, or debating with her.
I've learned that we humans serve up more division and bigotry when we fail to listen. My friend falsely assumed that I was in a certain group and therefore thought the same. Racial injustice is nothing new, but there are times when egregiousness becomes a tipping point, a neon sign that compels and forces the world to take notice and act.
061220PS
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a wang dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Don't forget to remove the Bay leaves from the
pot.
Make it easier on yourself
put the bay leaves and rosemary sprig
in a cheese cloth.
I'm in most incline to agree
yet some deemed them useless
almond ash and hickory ash
was used to create a super
strong aroma.
Pungent and earth friendly.
TENUTO___
The Zoomies
a group of five
songstresses
Clutter ( a Contralto Alto)
Clowder ( Contralto Soprano)
Glaring ( Mezzo- soprano)
Pounce ( the Soprano)
Bunting(Contralto)
allorubbing
glissando
tremolo
trill.
Piano!
Piano!
Staccato< paino
an detached and fast tempoed!
She detached her relationship
to be seen as more uncaring
toward the male gender.
She said such allowed her to negotiate
from being lesser involved from actually
being responsible
inside a fully functional relationship.
The legend goes that 1n 1887 at a festival somewhere unknown.
A group of Women who were hired to perform and were allowed
to have concessions.
The woman (The Zoomies) were fixing to serve up some delicious foods.
An inspection by a local there
who looked troubles in the face with a laugh, came up
to the head cook in the busy campground.
He told the woman she better take those bay leaves out of the soup
before someone starts complaining. The woman didn't take to kindly to this citified person
turning his nose up at her with an order. She sat the hot pot on the piano (according to legend)
She went down in her blouse, and pulled out her mini firecracker canon and launch a firecracker at the visiting chef. It's said the shoot knocked off the gentlemen's top hat. People thought it was part of the show.
* Point of Reference- The guy is said to have come up to the stage while more then 50 people( paying customers) were there and said "the rat and kitty stew smell like beef: that b*tch better not forget to take the BAY LEAVES outta the pot" Another legend is said that 6 woman singer corner the fella and stood above him and releived there selves. Ans said while the guy was enjoying his supper a woman reached down in her blouse and pulled out her breast and asked the man did he want her to make it a french creame soup!"
Singers and dancers,
artists and writers,
philosophers and poets,
academics and health professionals,
parents and teachers,
actors and contemplatives,
grandparents and children,
live and die between Heaven and Hell.
Between Heaven's interdependent sensory Enlightenment
and Hell's individual secularized Industrious-Militant Revolutions
Pathology and sin result from severing healthy spiritual tools
for development
from degenerative denatured fake-wealth weapons
for destruction.
Heaven's tools restore peace
where re-tooled weapons
without divine mercy
redistribute Hell's sure-fire punishments.
Sacred tools,
like bicameral hearted minds,
were
and are
for hunting,
gathering
harvesting
cooking
serving
cleaning
recycling
composting
regathering,
impressing
not trangressing,
health-restoring FuturePowers.
Weapons were
and are
for killing
threatening
hating
condemning
judging
repressing
depressing
suppressing wealthy MultiGenerational Matriarchal FlowCycles.
Technological tools,
post industrial,
have evolved from
WorldWideWebs of Heaven
for cooperative social health information
Too often devolved into propaganda weapons
against WorldWideWalls for self-ghettoizing Hell
promulgating competitive anti-social disinformation.
Sacred tools, verbal and non-verbal,
derive from
and help build
heart-paths toward progressive liberties in love
and conserving equitable and responsible compassions.
Secularized weapons
contrive from
and help destroy
other paranoid
rabidly bipolar
mind pathologies.
Sacred tools serve immortal life.
Secular weapons serve up violent death.
Just as word choice
is the smallest detail
of communal win/win communication,
Weapon choice is the smallest
and also least cognitively wealthy, part
of commercial and residential conscious win/win choice-making
well-tooled
politically healthy
true-wealth conserving co-investment,
Articulating
incarnating
re-creating
sacred life evolving in-between
LeftBrain's ideas of Heaven
and RightBrain's experiences of lose/lose Hell.
Why the long face, son? Did someone die?
Aw, Dad. I flunked my math exam
Did you do your level best, son?
I did, Dad. I studied so hard for the test
You know that's all I ask of you, son
And everything is always for the best. Right, Dad?...
What's up, son? Are those tears streaming down your cheeks?
Aw, Dad. I didn't make the varsity basketball team
Did you try your level best, son?
You know I did, Dad. I trained so hard last summer
That's all I can ask of you, my son
And everything is always for the best, Dad...
Is everything ok, son? You look like you saw a ghost
I did lousy on the law boards, Dad
Did you do your level best, son?
I don't know, Dad. I thought I did. But--
--But everything is always for the best, son. You know that by now.
You're right, Dad. Everything is always for the best...
Dad, you're not here with me on this Earth anymore
But your words live on inside me, and
They are of great comfort to me now, Dad
And you were right. Everything is always for the best--
I flunked the math exam because I was not meant
to be a statistician or a computer programmer
I didn't make the varsity team because I was not
cut out to be a great basketball player
I did lousy on the law boards because I never
really wanted to be a lawyer, not in my heart...
I'm a part-time poet now, Dad. That's right
My wonderful poetic friends and I are busy, busy
We create tempting, tasty dishes of Poetry Soup
~ And hereby serve up today's soup de jour, Dad
Everything really and truly is always for the best
February 11, 2019
Entry in "Repetition" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
There are those who would give anything just to have one moment of recall. But they cannot, because of sickness. Our hearts cry out for these, and may we always treasure the gift of sweet memories.
Memories. Don’t let them catch you unprepared and unable to deal with them properly. They have been with us for a lifetime; some of which are good and others not so much. If our memories have not been delightful, they could have us saying, “Did I do that?” For some, they may be so painful that attempts are made to deny them. Some of us drug and drink them away, but they refuse to be dismissed.
When a very young man, I attempted a trip on a snowy and icy road, and didn’t get very far. Not only were the roads bad, but my tires were shamefully worn. Within a mile of my home, a tire blew, the vehicle flipped, and landed in a ditch.
The vehicle sustained minor damage, and I was unscratched, but totally embarrassed. Each time my memory serve up this incident, it is one of those, “I can’t believe it”. The disbelief is not that I came out free of injury, but that I foolishly attempted such a drive. This is one memory I would like to send to the ‘no recall zone’, but I can’t.
It wasn’t a dream, nor a nightmare, but a once upon a time live event. My memory! These kinds of “Say it ain’t so moments” may go into the recycle bin, but you can’t delete them, and they literally refuse to be sent into some black hole. Like computer data, it is stored as memory; but it has limited storage capacity. But our brain has more memory capacity than we could ever use. Memories! You gotta love em! 05232015 PS Contest, Mid October Premiere, Brian Strand
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
The scandal that’s 1MDB, with its many twists and turns, continued throughout 2015…
Venomous charges and contercharges hit the headlines unabated through this year..
The on-going saga, with its numerous side developments, serve up a fascinating read…
Day after day, to this very day, there is typically only unflattering news about 1MDB…
At midnight today, adieu 2015!
We may not recall the date May 4th but we do remember a most dastardly deed in 2015…
When 4 armed gunmen stormed a restaurant in Sandakan, Sabah in the crime of the year..
The gunmen made a mockery of our heightened security, the dusk- to-dawn curfew…
The Malaysian army, police and navy were caught napping in the face of this kidnapping…
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
Political fanfare took a back seat when something catstrophic happened in mid 2015…
18 climbers were killed in rockfalls while up on the slopes of Mt Kinabalu, early dawn of June 5th..
When a 5.9 Richter scaled earthquake hit mountainous Ranau, and triggered mudslides…
Tales of heroism and individuals acts of courage catapulted mountain climbers into hero status..
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
Most Malaysians are going to stay awake to bid goodbye to the year that was 2015…
The optimistic ones will be looking forwards to the dawn of a brand new year in 2016..
With the many horrible stories and bad news that have assailed Malaysia this year..
Most of us will not miss 2015 for this annus horriblis is best be forgotten in earnest…
At midnight tonight, Adieu and Good Riddance 2015!
Welcome, Welcome, Happy New Year 2016 !
N.orth E.ast W.est S.outh
In the North the news brays
There’s no equality
And adds to the fray
Staged hostility
In the East they mouth
There’s new racial frictions
Plus they, in West and South
Peddle hostile fictions
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
In the North of somewhere
Tangled stories are told
Purposely to ensnare
Minds of both young and old
They serve up in the East
Slick partialities
Dishing a hollow feast
Though we crave realities
While the news is devoured
By human sheep with zest
A new division’s powered
To sidetrack those out West
These lies pass word of mouth
Are echoed on the news
Not to North, East, West, and South
Until most agree with their views
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
What’s new is not their news
What’s new is coming forth
It’s to see through their ruse
That is not pointed North
What’s news is our decision
Whether it comes from the East
Not a corporate vision
Used solely to fleece
Us, with their practiced stealth
Used to deplete our nest
So look out for your wealth
That won’t vanish in the West
Make sure the news is vouched
Obtained from checked sources
And try books from the South
Or take some logic courses
Look North, East, West, and South
For what is really news
And don’t let into your house
The tricks they always use
North, East, West, and South will
Provide us with the clues
To always live where peace will
Be the only news we choose
Don’t look to the NEWS
Look to the North, East, West, and South
Note to the many enemies of democracy:
No need to force upon us uranium enemas
just billow a tiny bug into the neon lungs
of our bumbling- deeply divided cities..
Sit back and have a few Molotov cocktail giggles
and some giant panda bear laughs,
as we brawl over soap and toilet paper
curse god under our sparkly covid masks-
No need for mall slashings or pressure cooker bombs
Just plant a few wolves dressed as lip stick lambs
Have them silence opposing opinions with racism chants-
Watch the media spotlight a mad dog shooter and a rogue cop
to them democracy is a demon and only worthy to rot-
No need for new age Luftwaffe or Stalinist migs
to brain spray our safe spacing- I pod junkie kids.
Just fill institutions with naive freebie magicians
intolerant-contrarian-purple headed-anti Christians.
Watch them brand capitalist pig deep into the skin
of the hard-working WOMAN AND MAN...
as the elitist beamer their way to their fine gated homes
No need to invade us with a billion red atheist,
just buy a cheap blowhorn armed with
"Separation of church and state".
lord doesn't Satan love a red loyalist hater...
it's so easy cleaving god from the courts and schools
to hobble our freedom of religion and good faith..
One final note to enemies of democracy:
Lady Liberty may be battered and cornered
but in an instant can switch from beckon to blowtorch
and the eagle is bloodied but still has its teeth
WE THE PEOPLE have always rallied together
to serve up a beat down to all of the beasts-