Long Squeaky clean Poems
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I have gained nothing from white supremacy
with singular power, sans The Almighty
My faithful friend with sheets of white
my pal, poised, unpen itself to make things right
How squeaky clean each new beginning?
that borrows from the dead, and those still living
I arrived blank naked and undisguised
my soul redeemed in light of sunrise.
I have gained nothing from white supremacy
its dubious power sans The Almighty,
Where would I be without coloration on the scene?
life would be deserted as though obscene
I'd fall through the cracks to a singular world
where boys play god to control every girl.
I have gained nothing from white supremacy
with singular power sans The Almighty
I've read of Sodom and Gomorrah's crude ways
that glorified false light, as before the flood days
Now, there's liberation theology for you and me
the God of our understanding is of mercy
What race of men thrives without grace?
where would we be without speck of faith?
I have gained nothing, from white supremacy
what dubious power sans The Almighty -
A garden with grounds as fertile as love
who charted each course? Only One from above
I think of evergreen, and majestic pines;
and my roots unending; yet not one of a kind, because
The humanity of man was molded by divinity
and hand washes hand, to ward off calamity.
Steely eyed long and lean
Manscaped and squeaky clean
Ambitious with tunnel vision
Never made a wrong decision
Strong willed and never weak
Not afraid to stomp the meek
All the ladders that I climb
I do it better every time
The alpha male in the crowd
When I speak I'm talking loud
A lady killer through and through
I bed them all two by two
Piss me off then watch your back
You'll never see my planned attack
You're bleeding from my first assault
If you go down it's not my fault
Test my will you're gonna lose
Not a soul can fill my shoes
An Angel right before your eyes
A Devil in a dark disguise
King for life I'm here to tell
The rest of you can go to Hell
A Narcissist can't you see
No one gets the best of me
High time we made a stand
And shook Up
The views of the common man
And the life train
Ride from coast to coast
ANC is the party
We love the most
Could it be, could it be
Squeaky clean
And smash any
Hope of democracy
As the headline
Says you're free to choose
There's egg on your face
And mud on your shoes
One of these days
They're call it the blues
Showing in the scenes of life
I spy tears in their eyes
They look to the skies
For some kind
Of divine intervention
Food goes to waste
So nice to eat
So nice to taste
Politician grandpa
With your ideals
Have you no idea
How the majority feels
So without love
And promised land
We're fools
To the rules
Kick out the styles
Bring back the jam
The birds and the bees
My girlfriend and me in love
Now, as a general rule, sergeants are rather decent guys,
Compassionate, reasonable to a degree and uncommonly wise.
But woe to the private who incurs a sergeant's wrath;
That young feller is destined to tread a very treacherous path!
For minor infractions, privates are relegated to the latrine,
To scrub and polish therein to make it squeaky clean!
A prudent private daren't give his sergeant any sass,
Or he'll push a lawnmower, cutting acres of never-ending grass!
If in close-order drill and saluting he is less than deft,
The sergeant will nix his pass, leaving the lad bereft!
Lord have mercy if buttons are missing from his uniform;
That will incite the sergeant into a massive, raging storm!
If he fails barracks inspection, he'd best not make any plans,
For he'll be in the dining hall scrubbing pots and pans!
If his haircut is not up to snuff, that'll add to his plight;
He'll be pacing his post on guard throughout the lonely night!
Although some sergeants are more endearing than many others,
And some it seems could be loved only by their mothers,
A canny private will play the game and abide with all the guff,
Praying his hitch will end, never more to suffer all that fluff!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Trickling down the unblemished glass
Window, squeaky clean and clear,
…comfortingly still
Quiet as the gentle healing
From the splatter of raindrops who whisper
In soft dripping, soothing, tempting
The soul to breathe, to kneel
Praying easily to the One who is…
Creator, Spirit, Strength
Streaming down the heart, the soul
Liquid light, promise of hope,
Renewing the world, refreshing
With a moist smile, fading the hues
Caressing the stillness, like a miracle
Easing the darkness, erasing
Starlight and moon song, denying
…kisses stirred by hunger
For the wonder of a life set aside
To worship the king of grace
The One who made this fluid,
Melting away the doubts, the pains
The sorrows that abide in the heart
Who knows that rain refreshes and
Awakens the silence of a gentle fate
Soaking the dreams with intimacy
Insight into the future who believes
There will be faith beyond belief
Joy to wipe away the suspicion, the hesitation
Who abides inside the spirit of uncertainty
Coloring the mind in a sea of tranquility
…filling life with waves of fealty
Promising the future to always be
Stirred by opportunity, the sea
Who is nourished by the starlight
And the rain, shadowed by thunder
Trembling with the vibrancy of lightning
Cutting the skies into shards, reflecting
The beauty rain showers command
With their unshaking hand
Pouring down, in torrents of meditations
Flowing, rich with details – elements
Knowing the facts, the features, the flavors
Indignities who quack at the sound
Saturated by beauty who soothes and moves
Drenching the fresh, new world
… in breathless sighs
Alibis who reveal to the truth
It is rain, the caress of its watery
Welcome who knows that only God
Could create this nurturing stroke of love
Raining down on the heart and soul
The conviction that He is always in control
Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
November 8, 2022
A land of squeaky-clean beauty, green-carpet trails-reaches,
Natural fountains, streams, rivers, seas, and freshwater lakes
Chinnereth, land of the gentiles, and the way of beaches
Pristine gem stones like rocky, hilly, and mountainous flakes
"How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel -
of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!" It's there, indeed.
He walked, bearing good news as Yahweh's true apostle.
Heeding the cries of human beings, he fulfilled their need.
Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Judas Iscariot,
Matthew, Thomas, Judas the Thaddeus, Bartholomew,
James, known as the son of Alpheus, Simon the Zealot,
All flocked from lands and costs, finding in him a newer view.
Like brothers and comrades, they ate, fasted, slept, prayed, and preached.
All who witnessed this felt that God's kingdom on earth had reached
EASTER SUNRISE
Outside, perfect Sunrise
Service. The air’s so fresh.
Pastel dresses, pretty ties.
Resurrection from the creche.
Birth and rebirth celebrated.
Jesus - our Dayspring on High.
As sunrise songs begin, elated,
Oh how blessed with warming-eye.
The Son! The Son! Salvation
Hallelujahs in the blue and red hills -
Up goes the praise of creation.
Though a miniature group, it thrills
With anticipation of eternity nigh -
Gathered with the communion of saints.
Early risers savor the reverberating sigh,
Remembering our Savior - with no restraints.
We smile, we nod at one another
Knowing each person rose to the occasion.
Oh how much love, one for another,
In this small concreted space - a holy invasion.
Can you see the angel armies all about -
In power, quietness, expectation?
The one who rolled the tomb’s stone with a shout
Surely sees glory after glory without cessation.
We remember the snow white lamb of Bethlehem;
The victorious, merciful and just lion;
The great I Am;
The One who awakens Zion.
The air, so fresh, and we’re squeaky clean
Not because of water and soap
But because we accepted and lean
On Jesus Christ our Living Hope.
Dressed in pretty attire, not to be seen,
But to honor and applaud The Great -
The death and resurrection was the scene,
For the return of the King of kings, we cannot wait.
Bruised bones resolved, inhale - the inspire.
The second Adam resurrected on Sunday.
Laud, sing - with Holy Spirit fire.
Join in this spectacular prayer ballet
And the cloudburst of the sunrise choir.
Bursting with pink, tangerine and baby blue -
The horizon and the faithful spire;
The disclosure of God breaks through.
3/22/2023
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
‘We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are’
Anaïs Nin
‘Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage’
That is how Anaïs happened to follow her delicate vision
Erotic with a fountain pen dressed in translucent lingerie
Spurs in hand when she saddled a rampaging stallion
The thought police claimed she was vulgar and pornographic
Most likely a repressed projection of limp savoury dreams
‘The secret of joy is the mastery of pain’
Sado-maso contortions I hear you say in venemous disdain
But have you never experienced jubilant relief from your hurt
Would we know the exquisite pleasure if not for some sorrow
Could Jung mount near death experiences without shadows
Did not Freud wish to jump on the couch with phallus in hand
‘The only abnormality is the incapability to love’
And yet when squeaky clean do-gooders leaf through the pages
Revisit the boudoir in which she paired with Henry Valentine Miller
Lecherous minds claim wet spots on essays and honest exposure
To be involuntary ejections of literature tainted by projectile evil
A sheet remains an altar of sexual gratification in satisfied minds
‘Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy’
Pulling and pushing in light of public consumption denudes emperor’s clothing
Liberates senses and meaning and is yet decried as lewd indecent obscenity
But the eye of the eclectic beholder foreplays sensual post-coital glow
Cohabitation in all shapes and forms may not hit your inexperienced spot
You are what you want to become however you reach rhythm and rhyme
(all quotes in quotation marks by Anaïs Nin)
31st January 2020
Wasn't it easy herding us into a human bait ball?
They didn't have to use tear gas or even go ratatatat.
They just spiked our drink with fear gas.
Loaded us up into mental cattle cars.
Put a piss bucket filled with fear in the corner.
Then watched our jobs rot on the vine.
They put God on lockdown.
Played politics with suicide kings.
And two-headed winks.
Collapsing the economy
Spilling false prophets and convicts onto our streets.
Just to make sure the oppression was complete.
We were told-it was for our own good.
Mandatory vaccinations are next,
maybe a microchip implant
That screams in red. I'm not a leper!
The elites are feeding off our misery.
Making billions-their babies are all well fed.
Their plastic @sses of golden calves are squeaky clean.
They've isolated us, made us mask humanity.
Divided us; now everyone's become a stink-eyed snitch.
They took our identities away along with our humanity.
… and how did we all react to our oppression?
And this new world order obsession
We didn't fight back-we hoarded toilet paper.
We lay on our backs.
Willingly hopped aboard those cattle cars.
Crawled into the darkest corners of our minds.
Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
—Luke 2:9 CSB
Little cherub with wee little wings.
Strawberries, crushed, enamor your cheeks
in Victorian fashion. Oft naked,
floating on chapel ceilings,
near the mother and babe.
Little cherub, not scary at all.
Magnanimous glory you do not seek.
You’d be squashed
if you weren’t so squeaky clean.
Like fleas on the shoulder,
the angelic and the devilish,
depending on mood
will be flicked away.
Little lambs cut a hole in their ghost costumes,
out comes their head,
then they don
a halo - oh, the little angel.
God puts up with such things
as sticky wings -
irreparably weak.
Heaven they don’t seek.