Long St james Poems
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The Organ and the Flame - St James Anglican Cathedral, Toronto
The organist, practicing,
and I are alone;
unseen by one other.
The pews tremble.
The vast volume of air vibrates with each note.
The morning sun illuminates
the works of mercy in brilliant colours.
Brass and marble plaques adorn the solid stone walls
proclaiming magnificent deeds, selfless sacrifice, pitifully young lives ended.
My heart,
my consciousness,
my spirit,
(Dare I say my soul?)
are awakened.
A bank of glowing candles beckons.
As the organ reaches a crescendo
the tiny flames flicker in time
and I am revived.
The law says you are where you are
Yet every human creature we touch
We find the Stink and Speech of Hell
So from these vapours we conclude
Where we are must be Hell
But saints don’t live in Hell
So this must be an attack
Of sulphurous vapours
Mists from hell creeping into Paradise
An infestation from THEIR HELL
Like St James surrounded by demons
Or St. Anthony tempted by creatures from Hell
Or Christ descending into Hell before Glory
Everywhere is infected by demons
Everywhere without protection
No place free of them
Like Hieronymous Bosch and the
Garden of Earthly Delights
This is an Earthly Paradise
Filled with demons Everywhere
Every shape and form criminals
They come to you through their garbage
Only standing on the threshold of Heaven
Looking down on these vile things
Do these ghastly beings seem pitiable
Only there does protection and sanity come
Only there is the sight clear and forgiveness possible
Do not touch or re- member them
Do not bring them into your mind
In memories, sights, speech
Have no intercourse with them--- for
Within minutes your soul will be torn and rent
Just let them roam
Soon they will be gone and destroyed
The Pelican
such a comical clown
A stranger bird
I’ve yet to have found
The longest beak
The largest mouth
Though not too many
Here to be found
St James’ Park London
Where a trio can be seen
A gift from Russia in 1664
And over the years
there have been forty more
The resident trio named
Isla
Tiffany
and Gargi
Have now been joined by
Sun
Moon
and Star
at 2.30 daily fed fresh roach and whiting
a sight not to miss ~ a sight so exciting…
But care must be taken
No feeding allowed
I once saw a lady ignoring this rule
As he opened his beak
Thought her arm was his treat
All her shouting and screaming
No damage was done
So he made his retreat
To find somewhere to eat
And when fully sated
In the sunshine would sleep
Written 22nd February 2021
Great White Pelicans are huge birds that you really don’t want to get too close to, and their numbers have recently doubled in St James’s Park, London
Fortunately, from just three to six — and the new arrivals all came from Prague Zoo. The pelicans – named Sun, Moon and Star – arrived in the park towards the end of May 2019, but have been hidden from public view whilst they acclimatised to their new surroundings. They’ve now been released to join the three resident pelicans – Isla, Tiffany and Gargi.
Pelicans have been a feature of St James’s Park since 1664 when the Russian Ambassador presented them to King Charles II. Since then over 40 pelicans have made St James’s Park, one of London’s eight Royal Parks, their home. The flock are fed their fresh fish, roach and whiting, at 2.30pm everyday by the wildlife officer. They are also quite partial to pigeons.
Contest ALL YOURS (FEB 24)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
She had an almost insane love of life,
Her attitude exuded abject fairness,
She was the abominably busy butcher’s wife,
Cancer treatments turned her suddenly quite hairless.
Her love of God and Savior was her guiding light.
No matter how she suffered, optimism shone through.
The secret storm she held inside, a secret plight.
Each day, a gift, she treasured gloriously anew.
As the world turned, day by day, the same for many,
She found happiness, and determinedly ignored the sad,
Bringing joy to those who would have suffered plenty,
If they had not seen her beacon of hope, realizing she was glad.
At her services, a reoccurring theme was her love of life,
Her love for her family, and her incessant offerings of hope.
The busy butcher, now not as busy, mourning his lovely wife,
In honor of her, smiled through his tears, daring not to mope.
He could feel her love for him, beaming down from heaven.
Glad he was, she was not still suffering from her secret storm,
A storm she hid from the rest of them, especially her son, Kevin,
Who crawled into bed with his daddy that night, so toasty warm.
Written 10-09-2018 Contest: Soap Opera Titles
Sponsor: Sian St. James
MY HORRID EXPERIENCE ARRIVED 8-14-2003 WHEN THE ST JAMES GANG ARRIVED WEARING RED DREADLOCKS QUEEN PIN TONI JOHNSON OF ST JAMES JAMAICA ALONGSIDE HER HUSBAND RASTA ANDREW HICKS DRIVING A WHITE TAHOE PUTTING MAC10 GLOCKS UP TO 8 YEAR OLD KIDS HEAD IN ST JAMES PLACE TAMPA FLORIDA TONI JOHNSON POSITION INSIDE THIS STREET GANG OF RACKETEERING HOME INVASIONS ROBBERY INPLANTING MULES WITH HEROIN AND DRUGS SENDING THEM TO CANADA TO MEET OTHER KING PINS THE YOUNG MULES ARE THEN TRADED INTO SLAVERY IN JAMAICA THE FEMALE JAMAICAN GANGLEADERS ANSWER TO SHAMUARAH FORRESTER GANG
LEADER THESE JAMAICAN FEMALE GANG LEADERS BEGAN BREAKING INTO MY HOME IN TAMPA THIS EXPOSED ME AS AN FBI INFORMANT THESE GANG MEMBERS PLOTTED MY DEATH TO PUNISH ME FOR WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM JUNK SICK COPS SELLING DRUGS FOR GARGANO THE JAMAICAN CARTEL SOLD DRUGS OUT OF GARGANO SLUM PROPERTIES THEY ALL ARRIVED TO END MY LIFE JOHNSON AND JOHNSON DRUG CARTEL OF MULES LIVING ON 15TH STREET IN TAMPA TONI JOHNSON HER DAUGHTER JHORE JOHNSON IN A TWISTED ENTANGLEMENT WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND SEVERAL ASSASINATION ATTEMPTS ON MY LIFE AFTER THE HOME INVASIONS THIS EXPOSED THIS FEMALE JAMAICAN TALIBAN GANG TO MY MENTAL HEALTH JOURNAL A FEW OF MY POEMS IT WAS THEN THEY BEGAN ATTEMPTING TO EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY MY AMERICAN IDENTITY INCLUDING RACKETEERING MY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM FOR THE DON DUNNA THESE VICIOUS JAMAICAN TALIBAN IDENTITY THIEVES RACKETEERING EXTORTING EMBEZZLING MY LIFE IMPERSONATING ME PERPUTRATING FRAUD UPON ME AND MY FAMILY MY VETERAN SPOUSE WAR HERO TONI JOHNSON JHORE JOHNSON ATTEMPTED TO GET VISAS IN MY NAME HACKING INTO MY VETERAN SPOUSE ATTEMPTING TO EXTORT HIS PURPLE HEART MEDALS HACKING INTO THE VETERANS AFFAIRS SEVERE THREATS BECAUSE I AM A CONFIDENTIAL HUMAN SOURCE FOR THE FBI I AM TRULY BLESSED I SURVIVED MONKIER TONI JOHNSON JAMAICAN GANG LEADER FROM ST JAMES JAMAICA TAINO WITCH OF MARTHA BRAE RIVER WALKING BACKWARDS TO HER DEATH GOD BLESS AMERICA
Listening to the Blues
Slouched almost supine
Next to special person,
Her hand clasped in mine:
Mississippi picking,
Bottle neck used as a slide
St James Infirmary playing,
End of a long Blues ride.
Now a mouth harp break
Exhilaratingly raw,
Finger picking guitar
Carrying the music before.
House rent music that
Spread the world around.
Borrowed, refined, adapted
Into a multitude of sounds.
Music to relax to that
Seeps slowly, and with style,
Down into the soul
Satisfying all the while.
Voices of gravel,
Voices that moan and wail
But voices of power to tell
Some of life's varied tales.
At times when I'm stressed,
Or at times of despair,
At times of great joy
The Blues are always there.
I first listened as a child,
A period so long gone,
But still my favored listen
As my life speeds along.
Now almost in my dotage,
Slouched almost supine,
Still listening to the Blues with
A very special friend of mine.
Containers come with different purposes
as they hold, wage, measure and engage.
From stone walls to fragile shells,
blood vessels to cage to idea.
Containers come with different protections and methods for treasures to unveil.
Each of a different purpose and story to tell.
Holding memories, secrets, or material, spirits- preciousness,
like a ring of a bell, a bluuurpbglllpll-
vomit of a puppet, a ouija for a demon of Hell.
In wooden chests, treasures lie hidden,
till the creak of hinge is bidden.
Whispers of history, stories in books, either Holy, educational, entertaining,
mysterious or forbidden us.
The brain to house memories,
where they belong,
the skull for the brain,
to help keep harm from,
or as a placeholder
for grey matter placebo for some.
The vessel of a porcelain teacup,
holds warmth and comfort, it's mold to stand
and deliver, as your lips gingerly quiver, bracing for
impact, careful it's hot, you lily liver!
Aww yes, sipping nature's elixirs
with each delicate sip,
in its delicacy, (pinky up sophisticately)
we find wisdom's mold to behold, pattern,
symbology, continuity, ingenuity, bounty,
Thrift Store Old Lady looking at you look at her.
antiques like security.
Aaarg matey!
A ship sails the vast, uncharted sea,
bearing straits of discovery, to arrive in one piece and enjoying the ******* luxury.
Contouring the wind's sweet glide.
A private plane, a non fossil fuel of the Elites,
a vessel of travel and privilege,
reaching for the sky, off to Little St. James,
though Hell is a contained container,
and Hell is from here to Eternity.
Continued....
Gus shook his head and began pairing
everyone up in teams...
Then, WailersWitch walked in.
Followed closely by EllenDegenerate
who was sniffing behind WailersWitch
and snaking the air with her forked tongue
between her fingers.
Degenerate had a shirt on that suspiciously
resembled buildings at Little St. James Island,
a resort for orphans that she contributed to.
Then, Michael Ofelellah walked in with RufePal,
"we're here and we're ...
we choreographed the White Houses Nutcracker
for the White Powder Holidays, now, it's time to get something black!
They opened a mini dome of the rock
box and inside was a demon.
Yes, from inside, popped out
WhoopieCushionPatsy, her dirty
dreadlocks dangled in the air
with filthy pride that reminded one
of a dust storm swirling magically
in a sewage treatment plant, swirling waste
and racing them like Americas Cup.
"Anybody getting a good view of my anti-white princessness, yes it is truly ME!"
Michael cut in, cut the crap Whoopie,
we have a world to subdue before Hillary hogs it all...
Form:
*Image of
JOY Made Speakable
Be a joy, repeat joy, in thy heart's depth,
Thy love, replete love, floweth thy soul's breadth,
His love of God, he'll sacrifice his son,
The joyful knelt, Issac stretched and hugged one,
Forgiveness joyrides bonds a family,
Coat of many hues, Jacob hugs tangly,
Samson felt his judgment being doubted,
Strength returns joyance for heaven's clouted,
Court's glum as Solomon ordered the sword,
Righteous climax joyrode round, praise the Lord,
Little -- Big, Ezekiel hath neither,
Joyous wings of wheel causeth a breather,
Prayers oft said by Jonah the prophet,
Later, raised mouth ... his joyfulness saw fit,
Zaccheus's short stature gifts him sheer will,
Joyrides a sycamore, efforts instill,
Passing smiles of innocence doth proclaims,
Joyridden fruitful thrives, saith St. James,
Maintain thy joys, thy needs not deny,
A kingdom dwells as thy host saw the sky,
2022 July 29
*9th Place*
JOY
~~Regina McIntosh: Judged 2022 August 10
AS THE YELLOW TAPE DECORATED MY TOWN HOME
PEOPLE FROM ALL OVER WATCHED IN SILENCE
I FROZE MY HEART POUNDING LIKE THUNDER WHY
IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD FOR THIS MAN WHO
LIE BLEEDING AT MY FEET I HERE HIM WHISPER
FOR MERCY HE HELD OUT HIS HANDS WITH BLOOD
IN THE CORNER OF HIS MOUTH I FEEL LIKE MOTHER
THERESA AND JOAN LUNDON AT THE SAME TIME
MY MIND QUICKLY MOVES BACK TO COMPASSION
AND LIFE FOR HIS SOUL LORD I PRAYED WITH THIS
DYING MAN AS I WEEP SO TRAUMATIZED BY VIOLENCE
YET AGAIN THE MAN COVERED WITH HOLES
OF BLOOD HE REACHED FOR ME I COULDN'T STOP
HIS PAIN WHY WHY AND WHAT DOES HE WANT
WITH ME HE'S DEAD ALMOST HIS LEGS IS TREMBLING
HIS BREATH SHALLOW I TELL HIM I'LL GET HELP
I WAS AFRAID FOR HIM TO TOUCH ME AS I REACHED
OUT MY HAND THIS DYING MAN SAID NO PLEASE
STOP YOUR CRYING IT'S KILLING ME
WRITTEN BY MRS. YOLANDA NICHOLSEN 5-14-2004
2610 PROVIDENCE STREET FORT MYERS FLORIDA
AFTER WITNESSING THE KILLING OF MY ASSASIN
1211 ST ROYAL PLACE ST JAMES PLACE TAMPA
8-14-2003 MY KILLER GUNNED DOWN PURRED
AT MY FEET HE WAS KILLED FOR ARRIVING TO KILL ME
GOD BLESS AMERICA