Long Straightaway Poems

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Groundhog Day 2021 Tuesday February 2nd

Groundhog day 2021 - Tuesday, February 2nd

Coincides with astronomy's cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and spring equinox,
which will occur at 5:37 AM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Saturday, March 20.

Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when massive nor'easter
predicted today January 31st, 2021
including within neck of woods
named Perkiomen Valley Pennsylvania.

Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (hoar) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
vernal equinox
rattling barenaked branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.

Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.

Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth

amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.

While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break

burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.

Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of Matthew
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue

man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those,
either hashtagged as black, brown
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.


Ever Since I Experienced Being Significantly Monetarily Sidelined

Ever since I experienced being significantly monetarily sidelined...
(how about that topic for a change of pace?)

Yes back to getting walloped, decked
and clubbed courtesy cold hearted brute,
who casually, glad handedly, and royally
flushed out mine tailored pricey suit
wherein every pocket
once stashed, and lined with loot.

Ever since scamming imbroglio
(three weeks ago today -
July eleventh two thousand twenty three)
yours truly, a formerly
happy go lucky wordsmith
immune to the plethora
of devious shenanigans
courtesy predacious traitors
to the bywords of honesty and integrity
scamper away with laundered money.

Mine fantasy modus operandi to cope
regarding falling prey
to hoax gullible guy
to surrender crisp greenbacks
entrapment like a dope
no matter poet of Penn Valley
at the end of his figurative rope,
when fraudsters shill and scope
out crosshairs stunning
persons exhibiting naïveté
the following escapist ploy adopted.

E'er since I (a reincarnated cavalier
or gentleman snubbed
by sought after Southern Belle)
at night suicidal ideations
visit psyche as haunting spectre
sublimated death wish
permeates thru mine every cell
courting the grim reaper
to carry me back to carry
me back to Old Virginny,

where lovely bones
of me Confederate ancestors dwell
upon bloody fields farewell
to arms and legs
mounted battlefields when groundswell
of internecine warfare
made life on earth 
wind and fire created a living hell
he who fleeced me
vengeance doth impel
to imagine him gunned down
as enemy numero uno.

Moribund courtesy online heist
me entire being feels
chopped, minced, and appallingly diced,
hence no surprise

sheepishly admitting to ewe
how yours truly still feels blue
aghast at passivity prevailed
how grievousness flourishes
checking and savings accounts
frankly zapped analogous
how David regarding Goliath he slew,
yet impossible mission
to know your enemy

with absolute zero details,
cuz the fly by night scamp
flat out sold pack of lies
of course I voluntarily
must admit straightaway and true
mine fingers converted cash
to bitcoin currency
yet entranced, kickstarted, seduced
as Harvey Specter
did courtesy sotto voce woo.
Form: Rhyme

M9 V2

Arti.fictional iD

" identify "

it's a part that tickles
on the inside

" nine "
materials merging
to form one mind

a dangerous game
well worth the ride

a serpent
bares her eyes...

chaotic straightaway

wings without a butterfly

and the matter... is choice

dark formations
in a singular voice

sights to be seen
and the vanishing
happens
where last you've been

" realities "
revolve to solve
" a paradox "

an elusive equation
leads manifestation
and a possible collision
in degrees of separation


" nothing is mad "
if a matter of inclusion


"...the Core Matters..." are at hand


1 Corinthians 13 on
Love

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a ringing gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have absolute faith so as to move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and exult in the surrender of my body,a but have not love, I gain nothing.

4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no account of wrongs. 6Love takes no pleasure in evil, but rejoices in the truth. 7It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be restrained; where there is knowledge, it will be dismissed. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when the perfect comes, the partial passes away.

11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I set aside childish ways. 12Now we see but a dim reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these is love.

Hebrews 13:1
13 Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters.
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.

Repercussions

A young boy who’d been told often enough of the virtues of honesty,
Resolved to tread the same path even in difficulty.

He decided he’d never tell lie nor steal things,
Love all those around him, be they paupers or kings.

He knew the path he’d chosen was going to be tough,
And the journey he had initiated was going to be rough.

But his resolve was firm and his mind was set,
He wanted to find the truth in the advice that he’d never forget.

Saying so, he walked forth, never to turn back again,
To bear all that befell, sunshine or rain.

But how was he to know of the hardships to come,
For advices are not to be followed, only to be given by some.

The very next day at school, the teacher asked him a question he didn’t know,
He refused to cheat, even when proffered to so.

So he was beaten by his teacher for his ignorance,
But he bore his first reward of honesty with forbearance.

And later in the day when his teacher asked him if he had taught well,
He replied honestly, that he thought it was worse than hell.

The teacher was infuriated by his remark hence,
And he was beaten again for his insolence.

He uttered not a cry nor did he complain,
The path of righteousness was difficult to him it was plain.

When back at home his mother asked him how he’d fared at school that day,
His honest reply infuriated her straightaway.

So he was beaten once again,
The poor boy, his honesty did not go in vain.

And then, while playing his team decided to cheat,
But he was honest enough to point it out to the kids across the street.

Furious now his teammates told him to quit the field,
From their wrath, his honesty did not shield.

But the poor fellow bore it with courage and goodwill,
It was a small price for honesty, he decided still.

And when in the evening, he had guests at his place,
He honestly told them they’re a great nuisance on their face.

This remark annoyed his father no end,
And the poor fellow was grounded for the weekend.

All his agonies made him realise with tact,
That advices look good only in books is a fact.
Form: Couplet

Heroes

Heroes,  
To some people a killer can be called Hero
To other people a defender of their rights is called Hero. 
There are many untold true histories as 
some people wanted to be celebrated. 
Leopard II killed many Congolese in the colony regime innocently , stole congolese natural resources and
he is well known Hero today. 
Imagine if Leopold II  killed some neighbours 
innocently could the majority Europeans 
called him " Hero?" 
Answer is no and no...no. 
Some Belgians and Congolese leaders called 
for negotiations meetings for freedom and agreed 
to free the republic of Congo, 
On June 30/ 1960 , Republic of Congo was proclaimed
as independent Country.
later on the Congolese liberator Emery Patrice Lumumba was killed innocently
 by the complicity 
of the Belgium government. 
Hero Lumumba was putting in sulphuric acid 
And 
He straightaway melted. 
When the  Belgium current  king sent a golden tooth as
the remain of Emery Patrice Lumumba to President Antoine  Felix Tchisekedi Chilombo, 
All the world watched it. 
No one is  concerning about many crimes done 
by the Belgium government  in Congo
which could be the important things
to focus on daily basis. 

Heroes, 
The attack of president Putin in Ukrain was wrong 
and he does not deserve to be called Hero for doing 
such crime against humanity. 
I know that all the top leaders who were behind 
the destructions of Libya,  Irak and  Afghanistan 
were totaly wrong and 
they don't deserve to be called Heroes
 for such crimes against humanity. 
I salute the courage of some African presidents 
Who stood up  and put their colleagues  
Presidents Putin and Zelenskyy
 on peace negotiation table. 
World youths continue to rise and knowing that
there is no race that  prays for repetitive maltreatment
in the planet earth. 
Anyone who is not happy to live in peace
with others on earth , there are many planets 
which can be his " her " good place to live. 

June 30/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
 Mussabwa Chris


Every Next Day




Was born to be a mule,
got barn weaned in the August hay
Didn’t know ev’ry next day
was gon be like my first Labor Day

My Louisi-Ana, ebony twin fetter friends told me,
I was gon gator cry pray ev’ry next day
That I better bray learn to swallow my pain,
just like my mama did on my birth day

The only promise given to darkie me shy,
‘bout how yoke things gon bigotry be ev’ry next day
I was gon corral cry, neigh cry ... rein cry,
just like I did the first moment of that first teary day

As I grew into a young oxen,
and started a-muzzle thinking on my own
My first daddy tongue lash taught me: Ev’ry next day,
only rebel speak proud when you’re alone

So ev’ry now and then, when I go into busy body town
to pick up some farm supplies
I know I better lower my eyes,
when a cotton-skin pass by    —    Keep my head down!

Or ev’ry next day,
I’m gon feel like it is my last day

I once looked into an old lion’s sad eyes,
and saw his hope had died
That his ev’ry next day,
he a ne’er was gon ev’r feel gazelle alive

And I knew willow then,
turning over the dirt ev’ry next day 
was my only labor pay

Turning over the dirt ev’ry next day
would be my final expense pay

Met me a big belly girl,
pretty as midnight
Said her Massa treated her good,
like she was white

And I knew sorrow straightaway,
that the joy in her ev’ry next day
was gon be short and slim
Like a prickly cotton stem

I secretly read, where the Good Book said:
The color of the Sun
shines the same on ev’ryone ev’ryday

But the pale barrel of a gun, showed me  
that ain’t what the black smoke say
Steel fingers speak with tungsten purity

Weary me believe, ev’ry next day
be like the first exit womb day
Only the pain don’t ev’r pass thru,
the tears don’t ev’r go away

I’ve learned well 
this one inescapable thing,
at the tethered end of
ev’ry next day — 

The sunrise wages saved
of ev’ry next day 
Be anew sunset spirit death
of the born-to-be a slave


11-24-20
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Stillness - Back To the Basics

Nothing new in the electrochemistry 
It no longer is a scientific mystery
Waves Beta, Alpha, Theta, Delta, Gamma & Epsilon
Descending from buoyant ecstasy to a persona forlorn 

Zodiac signs & rainbow colours assigned to chakras renamed
Esoteric yogic techniques, exponents aplenty, all self-proclaimed
Fiery verbal duels, by many an argumentative eristic 
Each it seems is the ultimate mystic

Leaving profundity to theorists whose verbosity we acknowledge 
What matters is assimilated wisdom, not vicarious knowledge
So we go in within, alone, in meditational stillness, upon a virgin path
Each moment in the time continuum, a holy sabbath

What we seek is expansive consciousness & joy eternal
And what is eternal is obviously not embraceable in the ephemeral 
So we chop off perishable egoistic attachments, fear & desire
And straightaway plunge our non-self into the divine fire

How? In unseeking stillness within ... deep within
Where at each moment we anew begin
No conflict, no violence 
Effortless stillness, rippleless silence

No agenda, no seeker, no doer
We are still, yet there is a mover
The flow of the Universe within into which we dissolve 
Emerging from which we automatically evolve

What do we gain & what do we lose?
Irrelevant, for we are not, yet desirelessly choose 
What we lose is our sorrow generating gross contaminant
Gain being ineffable, exalted, joyous divine love enablement 

There is no way; our choice itself is the way
Save unendingly effusing love, no rules to obey
Thoughts sublime, words kind, actions benign
Self, Soul & Spirit thus align

Trust the Universe, plunge into its loving stream
We need to wake up now, from our narrow dream
Upon lighting a candle, darkness is instantly expelled
Surrendering to the divine, ignorance is automatically dispelled

And that is all there is to it
Doable if we do & never ever quit
Simpler the truth, it seems the more elusive it is
So perplexed we are by life’s jigsaw quiz

01-November-2020
Form: Rhyme

Notes of Life

"In my fragile little ship, I sail, sail
In the tempestuous sea of life
Dodging life's pressures, to doldrums outlast"~ by poet

Breathing in and out the notes of life, 
from first cry to last sigh, you sing
you sing.... unbeknownst
unbeknownst to you as to
what tunes and notes of life
you will be singing.. 

but you keep singing... taking cues
taking cues from the
rhythm of the twirl of time. 

As you warble to the ticking of time
sometimes... 
a melody is created 
and the moment becomes lovely -
when your hum is harmonious to
the rhythm, tempo, and dynamics of life. 

Listening to that melody - so sweet, 
buds of love and peace bloom straightaway
in vibrant colours
to savour and celebrate 
the beautiful moment:
a moment as beautiful 
as the sweet smile of a child
and as peaceful as the 
stillness of a meditation hall. 

At times, your voice cracks 
you sing outside the range
hitting the wrong note... 

and.........oh........ 
you slip down the stairs
the last step extending down to
the hassles and hard times of life... 

like a banana peel
in an already slippery road, 
like a dust in the eye
that blurs your vision, 
like that of a Wordle game
that leaves you totally clueless. 

Such wrong notes
in your song of life
leave you in dismay

like a torn page in a book:

you get dejected, dispirited, and disheartened

and a confused state of mind follows. 

But you know you should not stop
you need to ignore the wrong note you struck

not a wince, blink or a pause.. 

you have to just move

on and on... 

and get your mojo back
to continue carolling
the rest of your notes of life
in accordance to the 
rhythm of time...

Date: 02/24/2022
'F' form - Free verse - New - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme Chosen: Life
First Place

Poem Of The Day on 02/24/2022

A Hearty Valent Sign

Ah what fair moan
laden fantasy lassitude looms
large if this
chaste ole buoy got cornered
into an alleyway
by a bevy of beefy

buxom babes dead set
on hounding this
doggone codger anyway
shape or form eying
sole asylum madly
sprinting thru a narrow

cookie cutter archway
overlooking a multilane beltway
risky business risking
life and limb leaping
the immense height to
make a breakaway

inevitably configuring myself
into unrecognizable
Rorschach Test, when
ganged up by goo goo dolls
suddenly become permanently faraway
unless of course some fluke,

disguised a big yellow bird
rescues yours truly talons linkedin
to flesh pot, a gateway
timed perfectly with
what I surmised
as doomed getaway,

though while dangling aloft
(imagining myself sanity clause)
minus the reindeer sleigh trademark
accouterment and nary a giveaway,
but no idea when...
aerial salvation halfway

to destination thinking,
perchance mebbe adventure
will comprise entering
a wormhole hatchway,
an out of this world experience,

and without doubt
the most remote hideaway,
a thought raced thru my mind
this captive within
hinterlands of space/time
could be heading

along the highway
to hell, no matter where pathway
takes this beastie boy
even if fate somehow
finds me in Rockaway
or possibly alternate

universe of said placename
nothing infuses Earthling
with greater excitement
than feeling like a
truant proud runaway
entranced by the infinite skyway

analogous to ascending stairway
to heaven, only for
this celestial stowaway
that does land him
smack dab straightaway
into a parallel dimension wafting

my buttonose with decor of dames
intent to commence
cupid ditty underway
coon scent of woman actually
ache'n since commencement
of this "FAKE" quasi poem.

Consanguinity

The augury of him in Crimea was so
That Ekaterina said she was tired of sandwiches
But I did have black tea, black Latvian bread with her black Ikra near Black Sea
Hundreds of kilometres from Kiev and from Moscow in Odessa where heresy breaches

I beated her wings in no confinement,in no vituperation
She flew flower to flower to no destination
She knew I was a drinking son of pride straightaway
And I apprised me that she was a drunk daughter of arrogance having me in sway

At night on table when Putin came with my rassolnik
And said that he had seen many earthquakes being not born a Japanese geek
I felt in my bedroom her shenanigan moves
A carefully preserved time capsule in grooves

Rubbers burnt got her season
and wheels vulcanized got his prison
Dudley Castle and Kremlin cannot be friends
With Timoshenkos pillaging appetites in trusses and bends

Keep your red gown for the right time Ekaterina
For I have eaten all meats-that of a pig, of a cow,horse and bear
And eschew my emotions like a ballerina
A square,a quadrilateral,a rhombus and a parallelogram are not the same when each buccaneer

Vladimirs have always condescended bloody Mirs of Dagestan
In the duel between Russian charlottes and Turkish harems
The fishing villages of acrimony and Satan
I will not count Ekaterina`s eggs for my child`s Ukrainian mother in tandems

Vocabulary used
Ikra-Russian caviar in poetry`s context its the black caviar or fish eggs.
Rassolnik- is a traditional Russian soup made from pickled cucumbers, pearl barley, and pork or beef kidneys. A vegetarian variant of rassolnik also exists. The dish is known to have existed as far back as the 15th century, when it was called kalya
© Amit Ray  Create an image from this poem.

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