Long Sweated Poems
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Mr. Prim provoked shame, guilt, and fear
In every heart, mind, and soul of Redding
Pointing his long, boney finger at whoever was near
Screaming out sinner, to hell you are heading!
Mr. Prim went to church three times a day
Prayed morning, noon, and night
Walked the straight and narrow, never to stray
He would shun wrong and always do right
A new movie in town, a huge sensation
Was rated PDV (perverse, disgusting, and vile)
Mr. Prim had to crush this abomination
Not one soul would this filth defile!
But the neon marquee announced: A Tribute To Mr. Prim
Tonight, we praise our saint’s glory
Let all our townsfolk welcome him
As we tell his inspiring story
The MC, Mayor Jones, smiled and took the stage
Mr. Prim began to feel frightened somehow
Introduced as Redding’s godly sage
Then asked to stand and take a bow
A year ago, at the passing of Joan, his wife
Proclaimed Mayor Jones demurely
She left us an account of Mr. Prim’s life
Which was not led all that purely
Now, as we view his spicy story
With our neighbor’s life honestly shown
Please keep in mind, as we praise God’s glory
Beware if you cast the first stone
The lights dimmed as the show began
Mr. Prim shook, sweated and fled the hall
The audience laughed, every woman and man
For there was never a movie at all!
For a lasting lust, my heart’s been beating
On a seat, I daren’t sit for deep thinking
My entire body boiled for the same meaning
I shivered, sweated like I was in a stream
Closer I moved, only her eyes to seem
Opened to hold me tight close onto her chest
A hero of her sentiments I kingly became
Fever settled to wake the eel with a name
Inside the still sea, the waters had swollen
Making its shaved slopes highly slippery
To invite the addon for swimming nicely,
Smoothly dive soaked into the clean waters.
To make the soggy cup dance and spill more
Such that both hills get hosed like a rainy moon
To get gulped by hearty ecstasy of the hearts
That creates a paradise with angelic songs,
Penned for a love story to remember always;
Making me snooze in her majestic hands
Cuddling my shaggy chest to ditty my heart.
Poem by Mugisho N. Theophile
Now is the winner of our disco tent comp
Maids glorious shimmer by
This sun on my Yorkie
Puffing clouds as Lorde plays in our house
In the deep base of the ocean eyes buried
Our brows found with sweated wreaths;
Our boozed arms
hands up for chocolate moments
Ring the alarms whoop whoop its the sound of the police
Our wayward marches due to delightful measures.
Grim has got his visa
The aged war has smoothed
And how, instead of mourning barbered heeds
Too light the soles of playful sand shoes
He rolls papers nimbly in a unisex chamber
To the languished pleasing of a Dr Dre loop
Have no shape for sport or tricks
Norwegian made dubious furniture not to last
I am that rude
Stamping on your majestic Magnum
To strut before
What you wan't man
I will cut that tail
Fair is my complexion
Cheated by the creature
Breaking is my nature
Deranged, not ends, start and not to stop
Breathing on this world, scared
your mind made up,
So tamely and in fashionably time
Take a step past my dogs that bark
It may be your last
A day when nothing happened
It was a harmless morning my old friends had married
When I was at sea, a boiled egg for breakfast
took the bus to the docks, I had a dingy there and tried my luck fishing
Got two fish, wrapped them up in a newspaper to give to the cats in the neighborhood, and went for a shower at the communal bathhouse
Later I had coffee and a Napoleon cake, the waitress was very fat she sweated and was ill at ease, gave her an extra tip.
A slow-moving car, many people walking behind, and since I was going the same way I joined the walkers for a while
At home I switched on the TV to a woman singing and playing guitar badly; luckily the news came on, an accident near the railway station a handcart had opened
and several suitcases damage.
Opened a new book by Axel Sandemose and read his work in the early morning.
OUR LOTS .... BACK TO THE LORD
In ignorance we came from the kingdom we knew not.
To the world of no choice where we live and sojourn with our choice not
We embraced our fate and stay true to our lots
We cried, laughed, wept, sweated before we acquire plots
Luck smiled on us we built structures of various sorts
We were happy to know times days and date and learnt never to be late
Mom taught us love and dad preached against hate
We had friends with age and we called them mates
We had our moments till we parted ways and embraced our fate
Time days and dates became cruel because they made us aged
We went a while with grey hair in confined space
We shiver at news of departure of mates and trembled at the site of spades
Death kept knocking ready to take us male and female
The dreaded visited and no way to plead
Our bones are weak and sick and no strength to flee
Silently but painfully we gave up the fight as we watch with bleed
Loved ones and enemies we left with news that wouldn't please
Taken back to a piece of our plot
Stopped feeding from the pots
Time to fall back to the early lots
Skin and bones left to rot
Caged and sealed with rods
This is the end of the race we run
Time to go back to our Lord.
Rest in peace till we meet at the other side of the bridge.
( FM CONCEPTUAL ???)
Please, Do You Have Double Vision?
My gorgeous body swipes with acceptance my entirety,
Loves my mind, its monumental triumphs and dark corridors,
Liaisons with winds which passion causations of complexity,
Wets my sweated brow with trickles of sweetly scented odours.
This destination is surreal, but i know i have long arrived,
Dazzling with sanity my sense is only murmurous with ache,
But why do sonorous by-passers play the goat contrived?
When i have only the arcane to interact with and myself take.
Do you have double vision too, please sir, please tell me do?
Will you see my invisible disability as nothing at all sometimes?
But upon need, will you follow my hurt wherever it will go,
Just on that odd occasion, when it surfaces and whines?
It may be that i just need that small bit more time and attention,
From that shop assistant or the bus driver who explains things,
Or may be i just require more respected by the health profession,
And not my carers who supposedly can talk for me with grins.
"Them there stories
Twas the decade of worries
In the lower half, of the mighty Mo’
My grand-PaPa and em’ picked cotton
It twas below the Mason-Dixon Line;
Grand-pa always had an old cotton kerchief
Handkerchief
PaPa wipe his brow
Gave a loud hee-wow
You see he’s a proud-ful old man
Early in the morn
PaPa worked also the farm
Fed them chickens and hogs
Open up the gate let the dogs out
It was hot that morn
PaPa wipe his brow
You see he sweated like rain
His back was out, with his bare hands he caught trout
With a string he fish for catfish
Part-time PaPa was a grave digger
Tween pickin cotton, hard labor
That was all that was left
Those dignify Caucasian people
And even the bad ones call us people of color
Low down dirty
Grand-pa always had an old cotton kerchief
Handkerchief
PaPa wipe his brow
Gave a loud hee-wow
You see he’s a proud-ful old man
Grand PaPa always had his kerchief
In his pocket or in his hands always
To Blow his nose
Or wipe away his sweet and tears
And to clean and dry his hands
To witness and or the greet his fam
Juz waving in the air with his hands
At the death of MaMa grand Grand PaPa
Had his handkerchief in his hands
Even at church attendance Grand-PaPa
Had his kerchief cleaned-washed and ironed
In the pocket of his linen suit
Man the man was sweet
Seven years later
They too buried him
In his right hand he clutched his tattered, old, worn kerchief
Grand PaPa spirit ya, he’s waving it on into glory!!
Hallelujahs"
1/3/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
After years of aimless wanderings,
Leaving behind the cities of midnight revels,
And the fevered journey in metro rails,
I am back at the land of my people.
Wherever I went, under which ever roof I slept,
I had carried my land, as a jewel in a casket,
And ensured it rested safe ever under my pillow.
As I moved with aliens,
Unable to merge with their cultural mores,
I saw my land glimmer in darkness,
Like a dew drop on a moon blanched leaf.
When I sweated in the blistering sands,
A patch of green landscape, like an oasis,
Wafted me in a cool embrace.
Then dreams poured in like star light,
And I wandered in the meadows of my youthful love,
My heart struggling to forget old longings,
And memories lashing upon me like tidal waves.
Pursued by that inalienable shadow,
Suddenly it being born in flesh and blood,
I hastened to the streets of my youth,
With hopes galore and plans vivid.
But alas! There is none to recognize me.
Oh! I am a stranger here, an unwelcome stranger,
Among total strangers and I wonder which truly is my land-
The one left behind or the one just landed in?
Oscillating between these two worlds,
My fractured identity looms large,
With worms of memories wriggling in my flesh,
And a myth suddenly dying in my brain!
A little back story -
I DREAMED OF THIS YESTERDAY AND WOKE UP TO THIS MORNING. THIS IS A FRESH REAL LIFE DREAM
I had a dream
I wonder if I should call it a nightmore
My world's your parallel universe
In your world, you're a star
And you appeared to mine
Not a single clue known by you, that you're a star
and we hosted a show together in this small town;
You were tall, dark-browned curly haired, clothed to a white-stained dress, your face had a little charcoal painted in them like a child, your eyes seemed green, the darker pallette... and the toes? barefooted
I woke up to this dream
And I feel like something in me's imprinted
my friends from afar wondered
I remember your face when I asked you a query
"You're an actress, right? plus - you sing, dances, directs because your talent is beyond." I said loudly with fascination
She looked at me and wondered
looking like a person trying to hold up laughter
you have no idea
told "I'm not an actress" then smirked
At all sudden,
your nose bleed and your body feebled
Almost fainted - I lifted your heavy body
to a nearest clinic, only to find nothing and nobody
I panicked, sweated a lot
because I can see the pain in your eyes begging for mercy
Too bad I'm not a medic
I then decided to put you in an open sunny place
to get some sunlight
as I sat there and watched over you
there I magically saw your eyes shone,
your puny lips discovered reddish color
your pale skin appeared like a porcelain
you smiled widely with a teardrop on your left eye
and gave your gratitude
the nose stopped bleeding...
and suddenly,
my heart can't contain my curiosity, fascination and emotions,
I WOKE UP.
I have woken up from this dream
Kept wondering what could have been
And as I shall sleep, I tried to refrain myself from thinking about it this morning
I whispered to myself "I've never seen a soul a lot to unfold."
He cursed himself for accepting the dare. He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make a few bucks if he spent a night in a haunted house.
Now he found himself in the most deserted house of the small town, reputed to be haunted. He had lain on his camp bed and hoped sleep would come soon. Certainly, he did not relish the pitch darkness of the house or outside it.
Without any rational explanation he found himself hovering between nowhere and the balcony. He saw all the houses of the town light up in a flash of multiple lightning. It seemed to him as if the whole town trembled as an earthquake rippled below the ground. The balcony seemed to disintegrate, and he found himself falling, falling, and falling right down into an abyss.
He wanted to cry in alarm. Sweat oozed out from all over his body. He woke up on the camp bed. He tried to get up but found himself paralyzed. The darkness engulfed him like a bed cover. Suddenly he thought he saw a flash outside the bedroom in the corridor. Lightning? He had no way of knowing.
Finally, he found he could move his hand and grasp the bottle of rye. The liquid seared his throat. It was not easy to drink as he laid flat on his back. The heat was now intense, and he sweated profusely. He tried in vain to pull up the bed sheet to try and wipe his face. The only thing that moved was his heart that was pumping away like mad. Relax. No ghosts about. It was only in the mind. Tomorrow he would gain those extra bucks.
It was then that he felt something moving over his body. In the pitch darkness he could not see what this could be. Suddenly a pair of malevolent eyes glared at him out of nowhere, seemingly without a face. Then he heard the growl. He wanted to scream but could not. Sweat poured down his face and his heart pumped away like a rocket propelled to hell.
His friends found him next day, cold dead, a small cat sitting on his chest.