Long Soothsayer Poems
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She was born six years after Post World War One.
It was the first morning of May that she beat the blazing sun.
She was a beautiful honey color, with light brown eyes, and cold black hair.
However, there was one imperfection that captured a stare.
From the top of the crown of her head to the forehead was shaded by a black veil.
With culture feasting and celebration of a newborn shlep along spiritual tales.
Prophecies of a real loving mother are indescribable biblical.
Her mother's love for her was solid and unconditional.
It was her mother's requiem for her to receive salvation.
With enthusiastic haste for time, she received ritual purification.
She was a jovial child until she reached her inevitable spiritual compass task.
From a tender touch of a child's hand, engender a ringing in the ear, a strong smell of raw potatoes, and a death-like mask.
An encroaching vision of dark shades of color appeared of a child that suffered a venomous snake bite.
In just quick measure of minutes, she returned to the light.
There was a ring of people with thundering voices that were charged with fear.
As to what took place she was unclear.
There were many speculative views about incarnation.
There were many views with many miserable accounts of persuasion.
Even with many outwitting opinions, she accepted the worth of her enigma as a benefit once she realized that the beneficial part was in saving the young child's life.
She was keenly aware that the mysterious infirmity was bound to cause her some strife.
January 24, 2023
A man I know, he is of himself like of the lord
Words are sharp and apt on his tongue
With it formed a blunt dull machete like sword
Covering the deep intention behind and within unsung
The words of false shining like truth
Is a time bomb to the rightful owner
The listener get affected to be delivered off tooth
And suffers the agony of retaliation from the sufferer turned stoner
Deliver my ears from the voice of the sweet sayer
Clipping my mind to a false belief
Whose says are magnetized on prediction cum soothsayer
A hour glass of relief to ageless wood of grief
The knowledge of words oft demanding
Well beyond our Earthly understanding
Mind flash like a blink of an eye
To and fro the norms until the day that we die
Time to grieve those that leave, inadequate
Plead for us, please as our own sole advocate
Unplanned plans demand that we have to know
Right, wrong, lie and truth people do for sustenance to grow
Salvation will not stop crying to its allegiance
Life will not wait long for death’s remembrance
Holding unto name in history which shall fades
Drives many in no time sooner than later to the hades
Memories like a breeze gently blow by
When or how, now or then, we don’t
know why
So, forgive us oh dear lover, oh dearly departed
The once that stood their ground in time so short since started
As we continue to fight this battle
Save us from the deadly luring prattle
We shall soon see the rest of your story
Pray grace reunite us in white lighted glory
Hypocrisy walks in and takes up all the space
The eyes of most brethrens fall on her, their eyes burst
My eye, don't know why, once fell on her face
Can't deter, a blur, unquenchable luring thirst
~ Magnificent Marvin, the Soothsayer ~
Welcome to the parlor of Magnificent Marvin, the Soothsayer
Silence, please, as I peer into my as yet opaque crystal ball
Ah, friend, the mist is disappearing; the future is becoming clear
And so, enabled by the Powers-That-Be, the Magnificent Marvin
shall now prophesy...
I hereby predict -- nay, guarantee! -- that the removal of
Theodore Roosevelt's statue from the National History Museum
will -- please grip your chair tightly, because here it comes -- not
I repeat, will NOT, save one single Black Life in the U.S.A!
~ Voila!...The Magnificent Marvin has hereby decreed it! So be it! ~
birds gather and sing
they’re lined outside my window
as I awaken to the touch of sun
and a faded dream
I cover my head with a pillow
a soothsayer says a new life
I wish for a miracle
now that my friend and I
no longer see each other
and the forecast calls for rain
I look for an answer
but it’s not the answer
I want
I call some old friends
that will have to do for now
a story lingers in my heart
it longs to be told
and told again
I’ll order an iced tea
and flirt with a waitress
in a diner
before I put a dollar
bill or two
in the palm of her hand
I’ll drive toward sunrise
and drive as the morning stirs
office buildings will cast shadows
as I take the one-ways
in and out of the downtown
I’ll turn off the radio
and listen to echoes
of my exuberant youth
when packs of boys
and packs of girls
drove the streets back and forth
and shouted to each other
through open windows—
we called it cruising
Throttled pain and it’s come again,Why it strikes me , I care to know,
All the doors kept ajar and my joys are drained,the peace is gone and the pain seems to grow.
The druid churns the magic potion,But men and women to take along,
More gains are his only notion,& not his goal and he’s so wrong.
Power blinds his wretched mind,Dying creative powers they soak to grounds ,
Oh! His deeds put all to the grind,Of the hallways, whose gonna turn it around.
People cry their minds a whisper,Passion dies yet another death each day,
All time idly spent in repent, things not achieved all kept at bay.
Winds of change come sweeping across the globe,A new brotherhood of people he plans to build ,
The soothsayer swings his wand & depths he probe,Trusts he those who’s desires are unfulfilled.
My plea to them is to let go of ego and come together,Together all must be to tackle the dark forces that surround,
As forces across the globe are down in the slump in all weather,It’s creativity that will bring back from depths,to astound
To build the cult the soothsayer has begun,Err if it has been, now there is no way on land but to move ahead,
The dominos must align as now nobody must be the favorite son,Cause the ships in troubled waters have already fled………….
belied expectations
caused feeling of hurt
inability to let go
made resentment spurt
the earth rotated
and seasons changed
but the ego-mind
remained deranged
reinforced by thought
suffering amplified
soul’s light within heart
seemed to have died
the witch doctor
offered a cure
choose cessation
and make heart pure
stagnation is death
flow like the breeze
sensations any
embrace and release
what causes shadows
that opaques light
ego is the blockage
which diminishes delight
first forgiveness
a Ho’oponopono prayer
then acceptance
spake the soothsayer
the bubble of anger
burst noiselessly in the void
soul’s light was revealed
pure and unalloyed
the child’s fate line split her palm
Deep and deliberate, it favored mystic crosses
the soothsayer had never seen such a palm
she had heard of the possibility, though
she looked into the child’s eyes
they were innocent, light blue, trusting
you will make a difference in the world, she told the child
what will I do? the child asked
You will follow your heart she told her.
She patted her hand, because she could not resist.
This was a peace keeper, it was rare to find one.
Your heart has the answers, the fortune teller said.
Will she be rich? This question was from the child’s mother.
Rich in experiences, rich in friends, rich in adventures.
The child left smiling.
At the beginning of my shift at Like Home Inclusive Care, I always check in on Miss Rosa first. I usually check her vitals and get her ready for her breakfast.
She was one of my favorite residents. She was a petite woman with a loving gaze and a warm smile. She loves to read the scriptures and sing old-time gospel even though she sang out of tune and forgot most of the lyrics.
Working with geriatric patients for so many years it came instinctively to me when I enter a room that there was something wrong. Something like impending doom. There was no heavy sound of breathing and she was laying on her back with her mouth wide open. Her honey color skin had turned white as a sheet and she was cold to the touch.
She was ninety-eight years young as she would love to say.
Her medical files showed that she had a history of seizures and documented excess mortality.
I stood there for a while looking down at her, remembering all the warm and memorable moments I shared with her. She was a good listener. Often times I would bring her a bowl of my homemade chicken orzo soup.
I pulled myself together and proceeded with the care guide protocol. I change her gown which was stained with sphincter discharge and sponged her down.
She always wore gloves even while asleep. She was inexorable about keeping her gloves on to hide her hypertrophic scars, and so out of love and respect for her, I left them on.
I thought while I was waiting for the mortician to come, I would start packing some of her belongings. in the back of the wardrobe I came across a metal box that was filled with old newspaper articles and a journal
Her only profile on record was medical information. There was no record of family members.
I wanted to know if she had any family members somewhere so that I could try and track them down, I open the metal box.
I read the newspaper articles and thumb quickly through the journal and I was spellbound and shocked by what I read.............
continue on part 2
January 24, 2023
"The Forest, The Lot and The Carpetbagger"
In the middle
of it all, in
The Forest,
I was asked
by a soothsayer
to choose
a number
1, 2 or 3.
I said
in all sincerity,
“that’s a bad number, 3.
someone always feels
left out discarded; now
if you get down to it,
about playing cards,
well 1,
is rather obscure,
concealed,
not easily expressed,
or understood,
no fun, just 1,
waiting for the deal
to be delivered,
to be done,
you could wait forever,
as just number 1, where's
the fun in the dance
as the unknown, unseen
stoic 1."
So I chose 2,
me and my shadow
2, I’d bring the
other with me
like a pair of
socks, well matched
walking off the page
walking off
win-win
with the shining
light, the payload,
the winnings,
the lot, at end of day
like a carpetbagger,
when fortune
tempts fate
walking its
very very fine line,
Risk asks for the payoff
and in exchange,
for trust and faith,
the long night
and dreary day
over all are saved;
opportunity knocks,
the door opens
it is now
unlocked,
I walk through,
poetically speaking,
I manifest the lot.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"An Event Destined to Happen in Your Lifetime"/White Feather Tarot
A wet slobbering mess, looking more dead than alive.
Nobody knew where it came from, nor if it had a prayer.
Does this bird have what it takes to thrive.
“Don’t touch it, said the soothsayer.
Birds like this tend to take more than they give in pleasure.
Often sucking the life from its handlers.
Both here and in the afterlife, for good measure”.
Oh, proud one, what have you done?
That Bird was never meant to be caged.!
Its song and lively chatter now gone.
The world has now become a stage
For bad actors to perform their ritual.
The caged bird is like a rare silvery pigeon
Its presence and sighting were once spiritual.
Now caged, it has become a delight to no one.
In silence it sat, watching the seasons go by.
Mimicking the sounds of happy birds as they took flight.
Soaring,swaying with the wind, high up as they fly.
Daylight slowly melting into velvety night.
And as time went by,that caged bird remembered its song.
Old and sweet melody,nostalgic, a reminder of home.
Suddenly, it became clear why it’s chirping felt wrong.
It's song was never meant to be sung in a cage.
This bird was meant to fly and fall free.
If life is a story, written page by page.
Then, the next chapters we would see.
Would feature this once caged bird as the hero.
A hero in its own story,come what may.
So,the next time, the locks turned in that old hollow.
Those beautiful wings flapped high and away!