Long Silk road Poems
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Alright have to admit that whole drole Bazball or Baz Bat cool cat vibe…rabbit out of hat tribe.. is taking its toll..sunk in a hole..losing it’s goal and soul..not being a vitriol troll..maybe need to mull over a cull of this rigmarole..
Can’t pretend..is the end of this spangly jangly new fangled trend…nothing off the shelf…just express yourself…won’t spank you..will almost thank you.. if you tank…bonkers fools rules you can’t bend…must always go stonkers.. all cool no old school…when you shan't defend and depend on a blend of soft conkers and tracks to conquer..
Let’s explain there are many ways to play and entertain…the lotto of the Baz grotto..no dull lulls …no more bore score draws…one motto…just high octane insane where seemingly the sole means to control is a flat track that blunts and shunts how every attack does bowl..
I know..have already banged on..had a go at the pitches…feather beds so flat you can bat gung ho heave ho from the get go.. no wear and tear..glitches or hitches.. despair to stop the flair.. no real movement in the air or off the square..the Bazball pest…Bazbat conquest..effectively saying no we won’t be surfing the crest of a true test contest of willow and leather..hey ho nonny no…to the real deal Test fest..tally ho..
No pretension..apprehension of the lacking dimensions and few mentions of the best Test tensions..
Also must rebuke how they have turned the duke ball from a serious nuke which would spook.. enthrall..now reliant on a cherry that gets so soft you need a fluke ..well Dukes will be compliant as England’s their biggest client…we saw our copper haired laird no longer..stronger defiant..again came a cropper..and this was hardly a proper whopper green topper..
It seems kitsch Bazball rule needily greedily avoids any glitches or hitches in batter’s riches which in turn.. does spurn and bewitches merchants of seams and stitches..
Well it can be dicey to make your tracks at home too spicy..get in a lather…at the palaver as runs become rather pricey..when you could goad..milk that ilk as you explode on a silk road..
Our selector trifecta…the three wise men..Baz..Bob and Ben.. know if there is no speedster thuggery… no Geoffrey jaffas…bunsen spin skulduggery..they will be the gaffers with some Bazball muggery..
The clocks upon the wall are stopped,
they haven’t worked for years.
It could be any time in Tokyo,
in London, Paris or New York.
It’s late, and deadlines, met or missed,
are past. The news is done, it’s fixed in print,
though muted televisions flicker out
the incremental day-long cycle.
The running strips across the screens
record trivia and disaster.
Aleppo’s in the news tonight,
A fabled city lies in bloody ruin.
It has been wrecked by earthquake, sacked
by cruel thugs, like Tamerlane the great:
this is not new, and here it’s hardly news,
just death in a far country.
But to Aleppo’s markets once the Silk Road came,
to reeking, fragrant, raucous sukhs and khans.
Imagine the exquisite cloth,
embroidered travellers’ tales
of fabulous ordeals from caravanserai
to citadel, to watchtower, wall and gate,
thin air of mountain passes under snow,
fantastic tales from the Middle Kingdom
whose emperor under heaven knew he was
the centre of the world. Aleppo’s traders knew
their precious wares went out as far as
Rome, Cordoba, Timbuktu and Zanzibar.
Imagine narrow lanes, braised savoury meat,
clothing, fruit and spices on display,
jostling animals and men, the public haggling
and secret treasures: silk, jade and porcelain.
Here the silent markets never stop.
A dumb Bloomberg terminal rolls out
the stocks and currencies all night,
though no-one’s watching.
Aleppo’s markets are in ruin tonight.
Starved people live in blood and rubble,
homes and hospitals destroyed.
I can’t conceive how they survive.
I must drive home now, through quiet streets.
There will be beggars wrapped in blankets
at the traffic lights. Money will change hands.
Bloomberg has no metric and no code for this.
At home there will be food and warmth.
Aleppo’s dying, and people in the street,
begging, on a night so cold, alone, so late,
I can’t conceive how they survive,
and Bloomberg has no metric and no code for this.
[Johannesburg, August 2016]
Stone elongated nearly 4 thousand miles,
across the country of china, smiles.
The 16th century would see many small,
fortifications become a great wall.
The long wall's surface area is massive,
thus far, nothing man made has surpassed it.
Born of earth, gravel and stone,
passed down and extended to protect many thrones.
Still, invasions were a common act seen,
by you, great wall, through many passings.
The Qin dynasty united china's states,
the Ming dynasty met Mongols at their gates.
Watchtowers span the horizon in intervals,
for communication on such a long citadel was critical.
Listen and you can still hear the faint call,
to truly see china is to see the Great Wall.
Be ready with fire and smoke signal warnings,
who knows when the next storm will be forming.
You should have a good view from the towers peak,
but save your energy, for the steps are quit steep.
The wall underwent many changes and add-ons,
to accommodate it's new owners land and battalions.
Because of these needs varying with the ages,
the wall was constructed in various stages.
It was first conceived in 5th century BC,
though today only fragments of this can be seen.
For, the great wall is but a reference to one,
more walls show support, but gain less attention.
And it should be noted that great debts were paid,
to create such a wonder, the legends all say.
The First Fortress under Heaven came at a price,
it would take more than a million lives to suffice.
The efforts of artisans, emperors, and time,
soldiers, women and children alike.
Journey the silk road and watch it stretch,
westward of Jiayuguan to the dragon's head.
To the end of civilization and back,
and upon your return, you shall be a man.
Stone elongated nearly 4 thousand miles,
across the country of china, smiles.
The 21st century has made this world small,
but as long as time allows, there will be a Great Wall.
Another day has passed and here I am sitting in the dark waiting for you to come to reminiscence with me in the wavering sun. Days have passed and I have watched evenings melting in the crusty ground and I have to ask myself what wickedness have I done?
The harden tears cannot flow and I am not sure which way to go. The evening gets longer and the night gets shorter and river beyond the hill cannot keep still, water is flowing around and swelling up the entire town and the anxious eyes are waiting around for something dynamic to happen.
I got caught up with the moment when deep reach out to deep and all you can see are the clouds rolling over in the sky and the brand new bullet train clearing the track at one hundred and eighty six miles per hour and the thermostat in the room regulating the heat at one hundred degree Fahrenheit.
And I wait for you to come and sit with me in the sun drenched heat and sip margarita and beer with me in the street and listened to the music rolling with the traffic.
I am waiting for you to come so that we can have some fun
I want to roam the street at nights and watch the ridiculous cock fights
I am waiting for you to come to sit on the steps and watch the moon and the stars romancing with each other and absorb the fragrance from the lavender and listen to the midnight chorus.
Is it melancholy, bitter or sweet? The mercenaries are riding in from the deep? Is it the Silk Road laden with gold or the stock exchange market moving in three fold? As I wait for you to come destiny got up and run and just as I thought everything was dead, destiny sets the world on fire again and there you were standing there.
I took a good look at you to make sure that it is you and there was no mistake in identify, it was you standing there wearing that melancholy shoe with that surprised look on your faces as you walk through the iron gate.
[ credits to LAURENT YVAN from France who read my poem ]
Launched over ages of primaeval forces
my nomadic ancestry calls out to me
winds howl driven over rolling hills
atop a ridge of rugged mountains
beyond vestiges of the long silk road
the Mongolian empire looks back at me
the spirit of the great Genghis Khan
runs feral forever through my veins
Mongolia and its harsh wilderness
its barren lands its haunted past
drumming echoes of summoned spirits
unleash the wrath of heaving heavens
I’m more than hoodlum with a vision
I’m a rebel at the helm of my said destiny
My brothers and I are born of a lineage
that’s jagged ruthless rich and proud
fierceness and freedom integral to our dna
we’ll defend our land and way of life
with brute strength and sheer intimidation
in spilled blood we write our history
come hell highwater feast or famine
the spirit of the great Genghis Khan
runs feral forever through our veins
We’ll round up the horses
and harness voracious winds
go out protect and safeguard at all cost
wave our swords and in hearts instill fear
cast our thunder over hills and valleys
earn respect for our ancestors’ inherited land
a kingdom conquered piecemeal by our warlord
father to our people and to our nation vast
A deep longing larger than life compels me
to preserve my legacy against betrayal and conspiracy
dark alliances with sights on pillaging and plundering
no more brutal bloodbaths and massacres
neo-medieval Mongol tribes and clans united
The spirit of the great Genghis Khan
feral through my veins forever runs
and that’s the Mongolia that calls on back to me
Read on air by invitation ~ May 30, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2025, 2nd plance 2022, 3rd place 2020, Front Page Pick 2022
Submitted on May 26, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE V sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
Jesus Christ Be Praised
By Roy Merritt
He went to see the queen of Spain told her the world was round
That he could get to the east going west that’s what he had found
He told her if he sailed the Atlantic kept going that way
He could find the wondrous Orient could even find Cathay
Then they wouldn’t have to go east down that long Silk Road
And worry about the Muhammadans or bandits as they go
And so after several tries they finally gave in agreed
And gave him the money for three ships whatever else he’d need
And so on August 3 he set sail pushing out to sea
With three ships the Nina, Pinta and the Santa Marie
And so after many tribulations pushing along with the wind
On Oct. 12 they spotted land their journey at its end
They landed in Hispaniola the natives sorely amazed
They’d never seen such a sight in all their many days
They treated the strangers kindly treated them just like kings
Treated them with human kindness amazed by many things
So Columbus returned to Spain told them of many treasures
This land could provide of many great pleasures
But by his third visit there he'd inspired much hate
The natives wanted to kill him they by now irate
He’d turned them to bondage to work as a slave
Claiming to make them Christian, Christian to be saved
This be the way the true Christian word
To enslave a man in bondage which certainly be absurd
Oh yes this be the religion Jesus Christ inspired
The one and only true religion soon to spread like fire
And at last it made to Europe continent of the white man
Who declared an intention to spread it to every land
And so off they went conquering Jesus Christ be praised
At the same time enriching himself turning men to slaves
Turning men to slaves turning them into beasts
Jesus Christ be praised Jesus Christ GIVE FEAST!
In the vast field of beings, some are stars casting kindness,
Somehow born with a mirage that drips mercy of its own accord.
They traverse valleys and deserts, spreading, unwavering, their pure essence,
While others, with kindness held beneath the leaves of the heart, offer it hesitantly.
They are generosity embodied, with palms open towards the sky,
Even when the sky is barren, asking nothing in return.
They do not demand we understand, as they breathe droplets of color into us,
That penetrate the veins of life, turning macadam into a silk road.
They are luminous beacons; in tumultuous times, they are our anchor,
And perhaps we too, are a haven for a moment in this ballet of fate.
Then, the storm passes, and each raises their sails to catch another wind,
New paths on the horizon, while desires twinkle behind like light on the waves.
They are the ones who ignite the light in unknown depths,
Awakening in the soul what it had forgotten it could illuminate:
Hope, joy, the delicate, magical thread of an unreal connection,
Silent proofs that souls can communicate more than the spoken word.
By their side, we find peace, stringing thoughts like beads on a thread,
And the heart, like a placid ocean, forgets to ripple in turmoil.
These people, whom we discover not with eyes, but with our whole being,
Though we try, we cannot forget them, for their imprint has shaped us.
With very few we resonate in the absolute, in perfect harmony,
And those found must be kept, not let them slip away
For they are our solace, the sweet balm of our days,
We are the clay of the same soul and the hearth of the same inner flame.
Bullet between the eyes, graveyard of dreams, demise.
Running bloodily through the fields
As the poppies to opium, they do give yield
Out on the fields with the mujahideens
Praying to an empty sky, drinking out of latrines
Loyalty to excess, their seventh heaven machines
Out of a book misused, misquoted, for such
‘heavenly’ deeds.
Up the Silk Road fast as he can
Out to raid the gold-loaded caravans
Enemy in his territory
Headed out to Afghanistan
Going to buy himself some powder
With this prizes of fine jewellery
Ore from the ground, black gold, opal
Measure against the dollar, coal and coffee
He made a bet he could bring them all down
Before they crossed into Tibet.
The darkness amidst innocents in the danger
Zone of despair, nobody cares for a stranger.
There is intimacy in conversation
That causes me a little hesitation
The cautious investigation in the eyes
All angels are just manipulators in disguise.
Holier-than-thou is a convenient act for now
Soon, the promises broken behind backs
After the wine and the taking of a vow
Dig in heels into the sand, and get in the bed now.
If the railroad’s end comes down to her
As a destination, I will jump the rails
And run just to get away from her
The kind of friend she is, an enemy
Stalking in the night while talking familiarly
All the time, in secret, laughing at me.
Pro-Xi the Showman
has a jolly roger soul
With a corncrack pipe and a Vuitton clothes
and two eyes made from Sheol
Pro-XiPing the showman is a hairy fail they say
He was made of nose but the children
know how he came to sniff away
There must have been much traffick in that
old silk road to town
But when they placed it on his head
he began to dance around
O
Pro-Xi the owned man
was contrived as he could be
And the children say he could laugh
at the way he plays games with you and me
Trumpetty trump trump
trumpety trump trump
Look at ProXi's go
Chompetty chomp chomp
chompety chomp chomp
Over the hills of blow
(Pac Man) lol
...
Hypocrisy the deal-man does alot of shady things,
tried to mandate information ministry
and vaccine slavery.
...
'Stocracy the Blowman had a ton of alot of blow.
He laughed all day at his evil ways
North of slavin peep ole.
...
Sleazy the Biz-man, owed
'Stocracy some funds, he made tweedle
dee dum dum dum dum receive pay to play kind of
scheme
O Invasionry the program is a Communistic
plan to end the Native Land of Nativity Scene
and eclipse Country Sovereignty
...
...treason, stay of justices execution
Prosti the Pentagon unaccounted 2 trillion...
....
Apostasy the Pope man is a very anti-C...
and water down Christianity
O Jeffrey...
The snow fell lightly facing Tehran the stars all seemed to glow over the Capsien Sea from a heated Indian Ocean beholder of the Black Sea we hadn't battled cold like this an yet a deeply covered warmth seemed to cradle us beneath the blanket of whiteness from the snow capped mountains I bathed within the darkness beckoning Turkish chants Kurdish findings began to swell as we approached Turzikistan border my mind emptied over the darkened rush a canvas of clarity balanced virtue wondering when the vessel will raise over uncharted waters I craved Almaty wholesome wonder of Silk Road while I even began to notice hope springing from a fountain of lush memories gathered so beneath me glaring the fondness of it all as we sank in silence flashing lights embraced the craft as the Voss shore moved closer the clocks from the Kremlin chimed my thoughts totally on the consecration of Mary mother of God balanced over the middle east watching lucifer gloat over crude oil untimely measures grew more needed as righteousness burned very slowly on the ice masters of faint hues pulled hidden treasure from hidden nooks faucets burst with crystal clear waters while tar and oil sprang up from beneath covered wells lessons sang loudly with greed no one noticed the hungry the unclothed nor the sick in need