Long Spoilers Poems
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Midas sits on a golden throne
Counting everything he owns
Picking clean the skin and bones
Of ev'ryone around him
It's the only clean thing that he does
All else around him spoils because
The flies that all around him buzz
Leave specks among the wrecks he's caused
But no cleansing traits have they
Since they were maggots in the day
Decaying flesh from some poor prey
Roadkill nestlings in his kingdom
Rotting leaves a stench, it's true
Flesh, morality, or crew
Work left for the rest to do
In ridding of this offal
Spoilers always leave behind
Remnants of their awful kind
And victims wond'ring how so blind
So many could have stumbled
But even bumb'ling creatures know
Life's quixotic to and fro
Creates confusion in the flow
Of opportunity and so
Patience favoring those who wait
The lucky left to ponder fate
Won't care that fortune sends their way
The spoils sufficient to the day
Sufficient to the morrow is not their cause or ken
As long as they can borrow insight from other men
And Midas knows there on his throne
That those who choose to pick a bone
Cannot outlast his treasure store
Cause in the end he'll just get more
Midas sits on his golden throne
Surveying all he thinks he owns
Flushed with success he stands alone
In the tarnished glow of his golden throne
ETERNAL SLUMBER
I'm Serving Savory Sacrifices of Soulful Songs,
Soundly Singing psalms so Sonorously:
So-fa-mi-ra-do,
Sweet Songs on my lips Staples,
So far my radio
Shook so many Tables
Souls Scintillatingly Trembles
As feets, mouths and hands Dabbles
Soul-prayerfully we stand so strong like Jambuls
Making my Mumble Mockers go Bunkers,
Mayhem Magnanimously, Murderously Making More Moaners
Including the Stalkers, Scorners and Spoilers,
Inoculate my jesters into the sleep ocean.
Pollute their Motion & Intention with slumbering Potion
Because no fusion to be awaken in life's institution,
Now look at them in their slumbering execution,
They are even doing choreography sleep!
Lol...Sheepishly taken astray like a Shaded Sheep
To be slaughtered by bounded brainstorming breezes, blowing,
Bellowing, bringing bed-time bruises, bad buddies broken,
Shaken, Sailing Straight into Solitary Severe Sleep instead,
Eternally Entangled into Ephemeral Everlasting End.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© 31st December, 2019.
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
What have you heard of me oh friend?
Those who can’t beat my reach complain so silly
my description, exchanging mouths but of weight, its devoid
giving the street a diluted colour so ill-founded.
What have you heard of me oh friend?
Every shadow is seen as mine to give light words clarity
for God sake! I’m just underneath the tree
spoilers of my name preach b’cos they can’t see my base.
What have you heard of me my friend?
They are pained because I’m unperturbed and spirited
false sentences have spent a heavy budget to be efficacious
it’s not an experiment, I’m too large for their vivarium
oh friend, what have you done by embracing their culture?
Whatever you’ve heard of me friend,
you’ve joined the labourers to build my ruin
my heart is soiled, from your presence I’ve quarantined
I cried until the graveyard consoles me with its threat.
It’s a pity to me, it’s a pity to you my friend
you’ve not only heard but also said of me.
The first flickers of Alaska were lectured -
a mossy ground that upon footfall
created a commotion,
a locomotion of mosquitos -
not average but bat-like.
What young person wouldn’t squirm
at the frozen imagery?
The missionary went on to say,
Alaska is the longest bar in the world.
I’d say! The coastline being about 26,000 miles long.
Alaska the first, tucked away in a trove.
But those who ventured out to sea,
cruising the inner passage,
released fresh scent of salt,
waterfalls, hidden vistas.
So much so, that upon booking my first Alaskan cruise,
I was afraid that the bearer of such Utopian hopes
might be overdoing it, such as the spoilers of a movie
where you let out a sigh, disappointed by the letdown.
But, Alaska is no letdown. Neither is the Yukon.
Truly spirited places exist, ethereal beauty
that never lets your camera rest. Your eyes
pull the magic string attached to your hands,
and the bulbs flash like the paparazzi on overdrive.
The wilderness air with its rustic cabins and wildlife
invite an out-of-body experience.
You feel like your weary legs are oxygenated -
you can hike the Yukon trail, mount the Denali peaks
and speak to God eye-to-eye.
Alaska the first, you frightened me. You still stare,
but I’ve conquered your rapids,
stuck out my tongue at bears
and enjoyed my baked Alaska.
As the terminator loudly declares,
“I’ll be back”
I’ll drink to that…
3/2/2019
Courtesy handy dandy
palmar hyperhidrosis
impossible mission to defeat
except poe wet tickly
even courtesy drysol.
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
June 12 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 107-110
Key Verse – Psalm 107:1 O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY MERCY GRANTOR
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
redeeming me with Your goodness
Thank You for gathering me from my solitary wandering in sin-wilderness
Always satisfying my spiritual hunger and thirst with Your fullness
Indeed delivering me against distress by Your graciousness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
rescuing me by Your deliverance-readiness
Thank You for grabbing me from rebellion’s stubbornness
Always sanctifying my soul midst iniquity-caused destructiveness
Indeed disciplining me against transgressions’ wickedness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
reviving me through Your blessings’ bountifulness
Thank You for guarding me from sorrows’ oppressiveness
Always setting my heart free toward Your loving kindness
Indeed directing me against vain nothingness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
renewing me toward heavenly gloriousness
Thank You for gripping me from self-exaltation for Your divine holiness
Always strengthening my faith by Your triumphant mightiness
Indeed diverting me against futility to manifest valiant uprightness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
restoring me to experience Your perfect peacefulness
Thank You for girding me from adversaries’ deceitfulness
Always soothing my qualms while charging my prayerfulness
Indeed defending me against vagabonds and spoilers’ fearfulness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
replenishing me by Your provisions’ delightfulness
Thank You for guiding me from fleshly aims to Your eternal steadfastness
Always seeking for my worshipful praises of grateful earnest
Indeed driving me against condemnation toward service-purposiveness.
Lord God, You are my mercy Grantor,
refurbishing me with Your mightiness
Thank You for gleaning me from impurities by Your purging cleanliness
Always smiting my pride and worldliness
Indeed defining me against folly by Your truthfulness.
While watching some tennis, my telephone rang;
My grandson was busting with news.
My son asked, “You watching the Open?” I was,
But a phone call I couldn’t refuse.
I heard the instructions, “Now Henry, don’t tell,
‘Cause Nana is watching the match.”
He solemnly promised and got on the phone
With a message he had to dispatch.
“Your favorite, Nadal, was a loser today!”
I heard my son’s “Henry!” and laughed.
From anyone else, I might grumble a bit
About spoilers and getting the shaft.
But some slack can be cut when a grandchild’s involved
And in truth, Rafa’s playing was poor;
Plus, what better way is there to get some bad news
Than from someone you simply adore?
it's just before the rapture
The Sun is turnt bright yellow red to Black
Flowing is the blood of humanity
Running down the streets
Mothers against you daughters fathers against sons
Evil beckoning hatred dawns
Wars and rumors of wars
It's the final end of times
The last trump is called
Dark clouds rolling
Cemeteries quake
Spoilers alerts
Churches on fire
Men still telling lies
it's The end of all ends
Shh!
-
--
--
--
--
--
--
It's it Superman ™ but look up, up in the skies
It's JESUS
2/17/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022