Long Snuffing Poems
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so many unknown variables to consider for such a tasking pursuit
a conditional ‘If’ but what if ‘whether’ reigns in a supreme challenge
conjectures battle refutations and synapses blocked in surrender
as long as suppositions succeeded in their hypothetical contemplation
the world may as well be flat and circle unhappily one of its moons
the ‘I’ would be futile a self negating deprecation on auto-destruct
and endless loop of no Self on a path to nowhere and nothingness
not of Buddha like Nirvana but hell on earth as we know it too well
a spinning confusion of gravity with levitation spared its flight of fancy
when meditation and pondering could not lift the soul above the mind
‘ruling’ that wishes to overcome suppression domination and power
appears a futile concept when freedom should be the ultimate aim
of course anarchy holds its merits but people cling to being governed
by false leaders fake news and an insatiable need for crude abdication
in an attempt to cast responsibility and shred all courage and hope
‘the’ poses the question of this or that where and when whether at all
a simple adverbial adjective refusing to rest on quiet incomplete duty
bereft of solitary meaning and such an imposter of clarity and precision
no stand alone metaphor of context and contingency lost in the process
but the planet needs answers and I do not give up easily if besieged
is there a ‘world’ out there a compass and globe in my restless attempts
to understand question emphasize deconstruct and give a sweet home
to live up to its promises and dreams as opposed to terminal decline
word has it that there are only illusions betrayal and survival of the fittest
engulfed in delusions conflagrations raging inferno straight from its core
‘I’ if it was able to resist compartmentalization of Ego Super Ego and Id
might not want the elusive generational torch snuffing out a last breath
maybe I am overthinking under emoting and have surrendered in vain
to lost beauty and a vacuum of distant echoes of an unforeseeable future
therefore I conclude that if I was the ruler I would ask my kids for advice
14th August 2020
IV.
As the werewolves all funneled to that narrow gorge,
the brush was pulled away, revealing a cannon’s bore,
the beasts were to furious to see they were caught,
Bob pulled back on the cord, fired silver grape-shot.
Small spheres of silver shot out like a big shot-gun,
carpeting the eight monsters in their frantic run,
the beasts were thrown backwards, the silver cutting deep,
only one of the monsters managed to keep his feet.
The rest all went down, with painful howls they died,
the survivor couldn’t walk, but he desperately tried.
Sol turned and looked down, at predators turned to prey,
and saw the last survivor wore the vertebrae.
Sol turned to Bob, motioned to the dying monster,
said,”After what this fool did, none would call in murder.”
Bob took out his gun, and with his heart thumping fast,
sent Alamo Rick to hell with one mighty blast.
And in the moonlight they saw the bodies returns
to the forms of men who had met the fate they earned.
“Deals with the devil always seem to end like this,
it all starts out with power, then leads them amiss.”
It was the next morning when the town all came out,
the sight of ruined bodies snuffing out all doubts,
some thanked Sol for his courage, but some were afraid,
some called him a mad killer, while others just prayed.
For several weeks after Sol remained in town,
he slept with the line-girls, drank lots of whiskey down,
until one day a post-riders gave him a small slip,
he frowned and prepped his horse for a very long trip.
But before he left, he came up to Bob Harney,
said,”Write to this address if you ever need me.”
Without another word his horse loped down the road,
Bob watched him, not knowing where the man might next go.
The reverend found him their, and saw his confusion,
said,”It’s his job, and he’s done it for a while son.
Did you think only evil can flew its power?
That God would leave us alone in our darkest hour?”
He clapped Bob on the shoulder, and left him to his thoughts,
pondering what he’d seen, and all that they had wrought.
Bob folded the address, slipped it into his vest,
and headed back towards his house, in need of some rest.
easy access and proliferation of firearms,
now begs a serious hard question
presenting daunting task,
quite aware that passionate
stalwart supporters of the NRA,
embrace weaponry likened
to garnering an Aboriginal trophy mask
(particularly in light of violent mass killings)
immediately forces people
of all stripes comprising this nation ask
quite aware of diametrically,
jarringly, and politically
doggedly entrenched fierce position
each polarized stance challenges,
especially when pitted
against die hard proponents
of the Second Amendment,
who would sooner burn to ash,
and/or adopt a siege mentality
glowering akin to red hot metal
regaling opportunity asper Liberal heads to bash,
than relinquish (lock, stock and barrel)
prized, coveted, and cherished cache
amassed collection of firearms
permissible in accordance
with (literal interpretation
of Second Amendment
of the United States Constitution)
to mean no deterrent preclude
(birth right to equip bare arms),
deprivation against amassing a stockpile,
would trigger an immediate saber flash
and instantaneously, another Civil War, would
(with gnash of clenched jaws violently
opposing manumission
to release obedient snap, crackle
pop in je nais sais quois booty), the provocation
rendering revision, sans sacred covenant
would sting whip lash
snuffing out any first and last hope to reconcile
divisive national issue
with cool collected talking heads,
cuz shoot at the hip diplomacy
be loved American style,
that indomitable fighting
esprit de corps tis fire in belly trial
though this skeptical and devout atheist,
would welcome being proved wrong
generating the better angels to render obsolete strong
arm of the law as plucked harps evoke swan song
witnessing unbelievable savoir faire
(forcing me to retract pessimism
and willingly swallow my pride), minus long
time overdue, and negotiation
celebrated with tolling from a gong.
The Chopper Cyclone
Oh Wild Wind! Why so rude?
Oh Dear God! Why no mercy?
Waited for rains; what we got is rage
Nursed hopes; only horror remains
December last, unbridled floods,
December this year, the Wild Wind
Gory events; misfortune manifested
With none to stop; our life is on hold
Oh Wild Wind! Why the dance of death?
Felling thousands of trees, we loved
All cables and power lines snapping to halt
Through howling cries; all passed away en-mass
A moment of mayhem, wrought havoc untold
The tall trees all, massacred, maimed
The wild aerobics; snuffing out the breathe,
Mauled and mangled the city is left mourning
Those that escaped wrath, some flora exist
Battered and bruised, broken and bent,
Twisted and tampered; crippled they lie
Centuries old, veterans, in ruins, they cry
Revival; may take a hundred years,
Alas, many of us will be gone by then,
Our companions, all through they were,
On a mad noon act; all vanished to nowhere
Ten thousand trees lost; is the count we have
As the city lies barren without, the green it wore
Family of trees lay victims; in parks and on pavements
While every road and compound added to the lore
Yes we waited for our reservoirs to fill
For flora, fauna and fields to survive
In turn; only received tears in our eyes
Only numbness remains, all hearts bleed
Last year water; this year the storm
Call it what you like; but curse is same
All elements that we presumed were allies
Turned a foe; that tale, God alone can tell
In a moment of madness; hate let loose
The ghost wind, showed rage unending
The fierce storm, hell bound it stood
Decimated everything in its path
Relenting only after revenge; extracted
As everyone around was in sheer disbelief
Dazed and shattered and shocked were we
Too numbed to think and too dumb to act
Yet the calamity will soon be forgotten;
As History’s bosom has many such stories
But both the scars will remain for decades,
The World has its dark side too!
Lessons from Shakespeare
Here’s a song of tragedies
Four plays from bygone times
Shakespeare did the penmanship
For these heroic crimes.
Hamlet was a stately prince
King Lear a royal dad
Othello was a noble man
Macbeth was just plain bad.
From these stories we can learn
That great men can have flaws
And even in this century
We all can crash and burn.
Come on now and pull your socks up
Pull yourself together,
Think of your Ophelia
who needs you to get better.
Will you be or won’t you be -
Just make your mind up quick,
Before the others bring you down
With sword of poison trick.
Alas too late revenge is nigh
And not the one you thought
For old Polonius is dead
And you’re the one who’s sought.
(Is there comfort in the thought
That Hamlet came to know
That nothing’s either good or bad
But thinking makes it so.)
My love and I are just one flesh
My Desdemona true
The very thought of losing her
Just makes me feel plain blue
They say I have a jealous mind
My one and only flaw
I think the fault entirely hers
Perhaps I should make sure.
My first mate says it’s really so
So what should I believe?
He saw her with his own good eyes
Give him her handkerchief.
(Iago’s plot to bring him down
Succeeded to a T
Perhaps Othello’s not so great
A captain of the seas.)
I love my wife she wants to put
A crown upon my head.
She tells me that it is my fate
There must be some blood shed.
And so I tried, upon my life
I did what I have done
But the dagger that I slew him with
Returns to haunt my mind.
Yet now I’m king, my wife is queen
What more is there to do?
My wife appears to lose her wits
I’m sure that she’ll pull through.
(So it seemed to both of them
The way was clearly shown
But by snuffing out another’s life
Macbeth destroyed his own.)
Hamlet was a stately prince
King Lear a royal dad
Othello was a noble man
Macbeth was just plain bad.
And through these stories we can see
Some universal themes
But more importantly than that
A world of poetry.
Toussaint they dance in Louisianna, and New Orleans
Omitting to say that these two places are blood money paid
Unto the colonies, snuffing your revolution by any means
Subtle French diplomacy that history would parade
Solutions of lies in the revolution that Crispus made
Afro-centric leader, pioneer liberator, O that you could see
Images of this decrepit shadow, the deal made Haiti to be
***** colony collapsed like a mildew rag upon a golden sand.
Temple here again another citadel of freedom in the sun.
Let the great Dessalines call from his slave barracks again
Organize him with them, make them all fighting men
Unique in the vision that Boukman intuit theology revived
Visions some racist philosophers native animism would deprive:
Existential, mythical, ontological, the awakening more than
Revolutions fleshed by blood, the black man mind lifted up
Tents and tennacles of the genius that sailed seas of sand
Unrope again the slave from sugar tea in that Liverpool cup
Rebel intellectual, great Toussaint, Napolean's luster fades
Eclipsed by the glory of your name across the new decades.
Federick do you think you people now forget how you paved
Erosions in the great emancipator's cause, until he relented
Digressing from the act of enslaving men. The West craved
Expansions of their new fronteir, on the back of the tormented
Remnants of the Atlantic trade, but you kiting in war winds
Instigated through fly of words, a subtle shift of rumbling breeze
Call for that genius, they sent you to Haiti, cutting the string of sins
Keeling towards a black liberation without the bended knees.
Due to you are laurels, when Afric's children in their van
On to brighter future, rise from where the day began
Under dark bush of morning, where a slave use to sit
Gathering knowledge and self teaching the burden to acquit
Let children today learn, education is not a white light
Africa's lamp was the dawning of the culture that brings might
Straddling the seas, O race, be a Douglas, set wisdom in your sight.
...On the fourth day I awoke to
a great grizzly snuffing about,
he had smelled the blood of my wounds,
what he wanted I had no doubt.
He gave a bellow and I shot,
my Winchester I did fire,
had to empty the magazine
before that damn beast expired.
To this day I sometimes hear
that great bruin’s awful roar,
barely escaped with all my limbs,
two more days to Kennevor.
On the fifth day I ran into
a pair of bandits with cruel eyes,
They said,”Your horse, and all your coin,
or cowboy you’re going to die.”
But my pistol flashed from the belt,
before that bandit could react,
caught him had in the forehead,
he hit the ground with a hard crack.
His partner was the follower-type,
and away from me his horse tore,
these peaks have been not but trouble,
one more day to Kennevor.
On the sixth day supplies ran low,
I started feeling those hunger pangs,
the creeks all tasted sulfurous,
not fit to be drunk by a man.
I got real woozy as I rode,
hot sun beating down upon me,
almost thought it was a mirage
when tents I believed I could see.
They quickly brought me a canteen,
did not even have to implore,
a small man came dressed in a suit:
“Welcome friend, to Kennevor.”
Now after I’d rested all night
that same fellow did reappear,
said,”I have a proposition,
if you would be so kind to hear.
I’ll buy out your stake right now,
one hundred dollars for your claim—”
I pulled my gun, said,”Speak one more word,
I’ll put a bullet through your brain.
After all that I have been though
I’ll take my share of the gold ore.
You will live up to the contract,
or you will not leave Kennevor!”
The man slinked back, out of the tent,
and never spoke of it again,
I did my job and kept the peace
amongst the rough-hewn mining men.
The camp grew into a full town,
and I invested in the range,
sold land to all the settlers
who were moving out this way.
That kept me rolling in the coin
when the gold mine closed its doors,
I’ve suffered but I have become
the richest man in Kennevor.
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Lover of weed
Hey lover of weed take heed
So its true your life now revolves around it
That you are now even an addict
Addicted to the point of snuffing it
Its now all you see and thinks
Your mind can't just get off it
Day and night you keep having
As though it can be compare to the air you breath
You are a beast when you have not had it
Like a dog whose sex urge is demanding
You are restless and careless
Confused and perplexed
Your last dime can be used to purchase it
You don't mind the cost and stress of getting it
Going about with it like handkerchief
You can't even wait to be in one corner
Of a truth God created the leaves and the tree
But wait a min also for this purpose?
I understand the feeling after you have just had a feel of it
Your hormones are high @ 101 degree Celsius
Your brain is already getting used to it over time
That even failing to give it a try could be kinda detrimental
Its fun to you I think?
And you living life from your own perspective
As a guy is that what makes you a man?
lighter in your hand and a rap in your pocket
You are good to go like he who is about to start a journey
Your friends come around and they call you and the fun begins
What a waste of time sorry if I sounded insultive.
I know am not worth telling you to stop taking it
Just give me a minute before you attack me
Hear what I have to say about it
Back to why you should stop taking it
Has your life gotten better ever since you it became your lover?
Are you always proud of yourself?
Can your parents attest that it the real you?
Can the society accept you?
I thought you had a conscience?
That should preak you when you going beyond your limit
If you have a positive response then feel free to take more of it.
I know at this point you wanna stop it
But it so difficult CU's you dont know how to snub it
Pls help this guy if you have idea on how to stop it
To be continued.
February 29th, 2020
alternately titled: 207th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,
slated more'n acceptable tick tock
off kilter around the year of 4818
after common era making mock
re: regarding mankind organizing and
witnessing global chockablock
Democratic celebratory anniversary party
millenniums after Republican dynastic deadlock
thoroughly walled imponderable gridlock
worse fate than quaffing hemlock
practically snuffing out lock, stock
and barrel constitutional birthrights
thirteen original American
founding fathers ghosts experiencing shock
how initial inalienable rights
activists sacrificing life and limb
united with linkedin armlock
said freedom fighters shackled
within crowded jail moldering cinderblock
cold upon hemorrhoid riddle buttock
diehard libertarians unified, pilloried, denounced
legion with repulsion as Shylock
purported, reputed, touted playwright
(William Shakespeare's sited anti semite
The Merchant Of Venice) doth mock
Judaism in vogue four hundred plus years ago,
smoldering think white supremacists i.e. skinheads
violently aiming to knock
non Caucasians upside the head
courtesy pistol whip,
and/or emptying gunstock
into human flesh disenfranchise scaring up
one after another racial and/or ethnic aftershock
aforementioned celebrated bard unwittingly
strictly opinion of me:silly poet -
despite hashtagged as laughingstock,
(plus vitriolic objection taken)
voiced by Shakespearean expert defenders,
yours truly reckons mine thought provoking
regarding storied, lauded, and feted Globe theater
literary King my interpretations not crock.