Long Slanders Poems
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A lot of ways to disguise
Beautiful dresses conceals ugliness
Makes us feel confident
Happy and proud
Arts reveals the beauty of the surroundings
Concealing the destruction of man to the nature
Adds pleasure to life
Music, the melodies from heaven
Concealing the sound pollution of the surroundings
Beautifies life
And reveals the inner beauty of man
Literature
Praises or criticizes
Find the meanings of life
And the inner self of man
And the real state of nature
Speeches from the mouth can be everything
It narrates, it speaks out, it advises, it praises
Or it cheats, it exaggerates, it slanders
We may enjoy disguising for the time being
But a disguise may not be successful sometimes
As our hearts and wisdom know everything
And we'll carry the guilts to the last destiny
On the verge of waking and of sleep,
Where does my dreaming fancy stray?
Into what chasms, bottomless and deep,
What starry wanderings far away?
All was so logical—then, crack…
The links all vanished without a cause,
The broken circle closing back,
Inside-out pictures float against all laws.
And I am still the same, yet otherwise,
I soar above a starry ocean,
And all the planets, in strange guise,
Circle, a ghostly caravan in motion.
And I have long since left the Earth,
Around me nets of fate are thrown,
What little thread in this dim haze
Will be my shaky guide, alone?
Then—such a void, an empty vast,
Beyond the boundaries of the past,
I'm god, I’m slave, I’m glory from a dust,
And I'm eternally reborn, being last.*
What music in my breast
Sings, pulses, trembles, flying—
She worries in the silent rest,
And slanders with idle torment sighing.
By what holy strength am I
Cast upon a flat, bare strand—
All is over. And my cry
Wheezes above a swollen gland…
…………………………………………………
*Then—such a void, an empty vast,
Beyond the boundaries of the past,
I'm god by Grace, I’m humble slave,
I’m glory created from a dust,
And I'm eternally reborn, being last.
Speak we of our character lost
Effect of slanders wicked cost
Aimed as a weapon to fire
Puts reputation on burning pyre
Careful planting the malevolent word
Pretending to wish it hadn't been heard
Within the confines of inevitable fate
Rarely give the dice a fair shake
Loaded meaning are there to be found
Casting unknowing victims to ground
Caught in the fire is the unwary
Who know naught that the intent to bury
Alas the attempt to defend ones self
Does nothing but reinforce such stealth
It is better for the one who has bled
To leave his ranting and raving unsaid
For only time can heal the wound
When malignant speech comes to tomb
Time unfolds the tales told
Even be they glib lies bold
So rest comes easy naught
To the one who's lies have bought
His friends and world eventually
Won't be blind but certainly see
That actually to reverse was true
That he was wicked but not you
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
Sometimes…
People will hurt
Their hearts will burn away
All the hope and bring only pain
Sometimes…
People will say
They’re right – even when they know
Their souls need to change,
Listen to His words, His grace
The light that reflects His way
Sometimes…
People will smile
When, in their hearts…
They’re telling you dark lies
Secreting slanders, deception
That would never be allowed…
If they followed His directions
Sometimes…
People will doubt
The love in your heart,
The reasons you smile,
The dreams in your soul,
The light that reflects
All the compassion you know…
Is the promise of your love
Sometimes…
People will hurt you,
Hand you so much pain…
You feel like it can’t be absolved.
Yet, you forgive… knowing…
He is the forgiver of all
He even excused your own sin
With understanding that begins with…
The cross where He died for them,
The ones who hurt you again and again…
The ones you’ll forgive because you believe…
In a Savior who forgave you of every wrong
A Redeemer who made you God’s child,
The child who knows forgiveness decides…
To give grace when the pain is so alive inside
That nothing on earth feels quite right.
Forgiveness, my friend… is the gift that gives
Again and again… love that never ends!
Matthew 18:21-22
King James Version
21 Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?
22 Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.
Poem placed first in the contest Pick-A-Title, Vol 54 by Edward Ibeh.
Contest judged on September 5th, 2025 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Like Pooh and Piglet tracing tracks in snow
thinking they were following Woozle.
You chase your own footsteps, mistaking them for mine,
Running in circles on a phantom pursuit,
Like setting a snare for shadows in the night.
Now my twenty years are crowned with success and recognition,
After years of losing promotion to the unworthy,
Not for lack of effort or devotion to my work,
But because your tongue spread slanders to pull me down.
You crave all ears to believe you more deserving of my glory,
Yet each backbite only deepens the grave of your favours.
Your slanders strengthen the faith that God has in me—
The more you speak ill, the clearer I prove you false.
You tried to burn the ladder of my success, not knowing I rose by elevator.
You were drunk with bitterness as I embraced triumph,
And swept away when my planted seed blossomed.
Now I stand a beast, a giant, a titan—beyond the reach of your withered hands.
You sail a sinking ship without a lifeboat,
Your chase spins you round till you stagger and fall.
Biting the air, you only wound yourself—
A dog chasing tail, never finding the prize.
When there's no ear when you speak
and you are made to be an oblivious bargain
when trust sounds so far away
and friends become quite cliche
take care, rest well, goodnight.
When feeling burdened,
burdened with pain
when family doesn't see it that way
when there's no one who truly believes
take care, rest well, goodnight.
When misunderstandings are the new hearsays,
slanders guiding your every way
when troubles never seem to go away,
loneliness etched into your veins
take care, rest well, goodnight.
Trials may come,
dishonour on your name
whispers to crush or kill
even though life doesn't go as willed
take care, rest well, goodnight.
Wipe your tears
face your fears
bad days all come and go
remember that you matter more
than any pearls you know
whenever sad, cry all you want
it's alright you know
tomorrow is a brand new day
so goodnight and hope again.
He’s a broken leg performer with a crooked second act.
Went from Brooklyn to Las Vegas with his sarcasm intact.
Does a Smith and Wesson stand-up, voice as sweet as antifreeze.
Tells you how he lost his cherry to some hooker overseas.
They call him Mr. Sunshine.
He’s as salty as a used spittoon.
MCs the neon circus
Where he shines just like a plumber’s moon.
Doesn’t pander to his critics. Slanders movie stars for laughs
Wielding heavy-handed put-downs like the jawbone of an ass.
Always orders top shelf vintage; likes his girlfriends under-age.
He’s the truth behind those rumors they found bloodstains on the stage.
They call him Mr. Sunshine.
Claims a hammer as his only tool.
A shylock rooked his agent,
Left him face down in the swimming pool.
He’s a smoke and mirrors pundit; all his opinions are strong.
Pegs some yokel as a sucker and he slams him all night long.
Bet the house at Caesar’s Palace; he was shaken, never stirred.
God, I hope that pregnant widow didn’t take him at his word.
They call him Mr. Sunshine.
He’s as wholesome as a canker sore.
Don’t ever lend him money.
He’ll just blow it at the liquor store.
He’s a poster child for rehab at the bottom of a slump.
Tried to come back with a wisecrack when Aunt Sophie found a lump.
He insinuates his poison to the marrow of the bone.
He’ll be praying for an encore on the night he dies alone.
They call him Mr. Sunshine.
He’s as funny as a dry monsoon.
He isn’t Mr. Starbuck.
He’s just a prick with a sharp harpoon.
Did ya hear the one about those crazy corporate chemists?
They’ve crossed the ebola virus with e-coli bacteria.
It’s being marketed in West Africa by Monsanto as Ebo Cola!
He soothes my mind
Like a gentle rain falling
Kissing naked skin
With nurturing from Him
The Creator of time
The Giver of insight
The Power of winds and tide
Praise pours from me, sprinkling
In small verses of joy
Inspirations of adoration
For the One who knows
My heart, my soul, my dreams
The way I feel and the way I breathe
A prayer of faith to Him, my Savior
Whenever I chase grace – roaming
The scriptures with a need for His
Gift of wisdom, truth, brilliance
Psalms cling to my thoughts
Whispering miracles and hope
Coloring me in hues of stardust
Warmth, lavender lights so soft
They reflect only the fresh songs
Of oceanic applause rejoicing
Singing comfort through my reveries
In a chorus of beautiful, clean scents
A delicate love woven through humility
Chastening rumors and hearsay
Refusing the darkness of a tongue
Sated by lies and deceptions, slanders
Sliding down the throats of swindlers
Who never take the truth to heart
Where it will bring salvation to a soul
Longing for God’s gifts of the spirit
So dazzling they radiate across lives
Shining like moon and stars on the night
There is the black hole of evil’s darkness
And there is the light of good’s enchantment
Only the Savior of heaven and earth can tell
Where to escape the fires of pain and dread
Come to the quiet redemption of the one
Who knows that God is still on the throne
And He is still controlling it all, even the dark
Deep inside, where heart and soul collide
There is a sense of assurance and hope
Promises to the one who sincerely believes
The word of God, the sacred writings
Welcoming needs – wants and aspirations
Confidence in the truth that will reveal
Answers from God to those who simply read
The directions found in this book of faith
A bible filled with an amazing, living grace
He silences all of my fears
With light that fills shadows
Dreams in vibrant shades of pleasure
Glorifies the One who died for my soul
And taught me that love is an open door
For anyone who will come hungry
And give Him the chance to fill them
With a peace that is alive and revives
Even the dead hopes that tremble
On the edge of a dewdrop so tender
With God, being vulnerable
Doesn’t mean you’re weak
With God, being vulnerable
Means that you can finally see!
The Middle Years
She'd been wooed by dukes and diplomats
From Nome to Nagasaki,
Kept by mobsters, bishops, bureaucrats,
And a movie mogul's lackey.
She'd been plied with jewels, a fancy car,
Designer gowns and furs
By lots and lots of husbands,
Not one of whom was hers.
For fifteen years she lived among the swank,
But at thirty she had nothing in the bank.
She pawned her diamonds, sold her gowns and her furs,
The car was repossessed 'cause just the payments were hers,
Got her picture in the tabloids with some slanders and slurs,
Villonia Beebe was no one's baby anymore.
She took to pandering and cruising in malls.
A john, a judge, would like to help her, but he hadn't the balls.
She learned it's hard to be a call girl when nobody calls,
Villonia Beebe was no one's baby anymore.
Two more years went by in bars and walking the streets.
She'd like to meet a handsome guy who's loaded and sweet,
So she could settle down and turn that trick into a treat,
And then she'd be somebody's baby once more.
At thirty-two she thought she should get out of "the life",
Go back home to Arkansas and be someone's wife.
She'd soon get back an accent you could cut with a knife
And become a real hillbilly once more.
The Toad Suck men were simple and quite easy to please,
Though the way they buzzed around her made their wives ill at ease.
Still, she made a decent living on her back and her knees,
Villonia Beebe'd come full circle for sure.
Then one night she met Homer, at a barn dance, of course,
A cute and awkward guy who said his nickname was "Horse".
One ride and she's not had one single day of remorse,
ViIllonia Beebe was someone's baby once more.
She sometimes contemplates her life,
When she takes the time to bother,
From beauty queen to trampoline,
From doll to moll to mother.
She doesn't miss the jewels or car at all,
And fur just makes her itch,
But if truth be told, a part of her
Sort of misses being rich.
But Villonia is content now with her lot,
Especially when her "Horse" is hot to trot.
Like those undertakers, I have nightmares
Death wanders through my memories
Too many scenes of horror in my regrets
I prefer solitude to the hypocrisy of those vultures
I will end up in a black coffin to taste the blessings of my hell
I have suffered like those souls sensitive to freedom
The carcass is scarred and the heart traumatized
I am sorry for all those sins
I have tied up my demons and gagged my ghosts
If I listened to my fantasies, I would be a criminal with the pedigree of a serial killer
I carry the hatred of a Gazan trapped in the body of a descendant of slaves
Since I learned to walk, I have never had the courage to bow before the eschatological chimeras of a slavemaster God
I hate war, but I know how to handle weapons of war
I recognize all the hideous faces of misery, even in the darkness
Their negrophobia thickens the dignity of my Africanness
I will never submit to their deity
I have already embraced the spirituality of my ancestry
Their slanders and cruelty will never massacre my convictions
Keeping a clear mind, even against the mockery of the angel of death
I roam this cursed planet like a pandemic
I do not believe in humanity
I distance myself from humans who speak of loyalty
No trust to grant to those viper tongues
War is the compass of these madmen
From the atomic bomb to the black bomb under the eyes of the cradle of humanity