Long Tarred and feathered Poems
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my agent grew nervous
when he discovered
like the rising sun
on a sea of shark fins
that one must gauge and become the gauge
what is it that heralds an improved model
claiming to have superior knowledge
my hospital masturbates immobilized patients
the cure rate is astounding
it’s all in how we conceive ourselves
the oil and tincture panaceas
were giving me intestinal upheaval
but my inner cephalopod still had
a couple of pots of ink in him
and swore by his mother's nipples
when info comes a-knocking
best let it find a seat unaided by grief
everyone rigs the game
we are all defiled by propaganda
here let me wipe you off
we all want to be authentic
so gimme the straight story for once
the sigh of the wind for once
must have been the stoning squad's day off
tarred and feathered instead
the world may not owe us a living
but it does owe us an explanation
I think it all has to do with
branching cascades and nested infinities
is it rain on the roof or radio static
I'm pretty sure it's a comedy show
there's a lady in the front row
bearing her breasts at me
I am quickly hypnotized
turns out she’s KGB
I hope I'm the lucky stud
that gets to climb her stairway
in an experimental courtship ritual
we rubbed pudenda for an hour
before I heard her secret name
it's still secret
her guillotine blade warm and wet
cut through me like a 3 dollar car wash
through fresh dung
OK why 3
for you double meaning compulsives
I'll tell you
but you must obey my commands
they are buried throughout this message
because 3 is like the fingernail relics of saints
and he'd rather be thundering back at Zeus
which got him everything he wanted
not so much money clothes cars women
since he didn't set out to establish
an empire of invisible influence
but he was a free man
free to disintegrate periodically
my advice is to keep
something for yourself no matter what
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I was not hated
because of that
and cannot understand
how anyone was
I was not taught
that I must fear
that others would hate me
because of that
in simple days when I was young
and I would play in bright sun
fields of green and flowers bright
and simple joys of the young
I friends and I all would play
on every day joy had we
until the day where we would part
and I did go where they did not
I was taught by adults
what to believe and what was right
and what to do on a day
where the others still would play
of my friends someone come
and some others they would not
and the rift between us grew
and some would hate us because we did
and when we went we were taught
of the story of who we were
of the hatred that others held
and of all the violence our history held
taught of how others did hate
and some of us they would kill
because they did not understand
we were the same as our fellow man
our people hunted and driven forth
tarred and feathered and houses burned
cast into prison without charge
where the mobs would come and kill
and as I grew I did learn
of the truth of the words
I was hated for my beliefs
and persecuted because of them
there were jobs I could not have
and opportunities denied to me
places where I could not go
and many things I could not do
I was taught to understand
to be a friend of all mankind
to never hate for who they were
that we all my brothers be
no I do not understand
why they are hated because of that
and could never know how it was
to be hated because of that
but I have learned that hate runs free
and is done for many of the things
because of beliefs and differences
and of things we did not choose
oh that we might choose to be
full of love for everyone
accepting of the differences in
who we are and what we may be
They sheared and washed until they uncovered clean rosy skin
‘That’s more like it now we don’t have to cope with the ultimate sin’
Being different was not acceptable but now the sheep shivered
And the flock had been tainted before the firm rulers had delivered
How deplorable that this unruly animal claims to be one of us
A curse much worse than migration so this one is rather surplus
‘We hope it is not contagious because power remains to be white’
So they exhausted soap and even toilet cleaner to get this one right
All this ‘black is beautiful’ such nonsense not on these pastures
Maybe evil comes from the inside such is the reason for oils of castor
Ammonia to the rescue applied with gloves and a hard wire brush
That stinks more than the renegade creature who developed some thrush
‘Surely the gods sent guidance and providence to test our firmness
To achieve sameness and cohesion for the good of the nation in earnest’
History pointed to extermination for pure race creed and untarnished blood
What if sheep fall down and contaminate the soil when they roll in the mud
What if it’s a trap because now the offender was naked and more prominent
So they asked for a council of elders to reach a solution for agreeable consent
By now they were fearful of repercussions and tried to cover up their actions
Tarred and feathered the dissimilar bastard to revert to its original complexion
But a legacy of marginalization power hegemony could not be removed so fast
There must be heavenly purpose for keeping with conquest for good and at last
It never dawned on the farmers hypocrites bigots and misled vulnerable peers
That God might be a black women of beautiful colour and quite possibly *****
10th July 2019
it was that dull ache that kept her going
a longing for freedom whatever that meant
confined to the straight-jacket of her mind
she tore at the shackles until her heart bled
clots obstructed safe burden-less passage
stenosed angry valves of calcified reason
fear-full emotion angst existential pain
tarred and feathered she hung on to hurt
became a victim of self-imposed torture
powerless tied to the tight roped noose
eyes gaping in terror torture blindsight
mouth twisted in agony and void scream
her ears throbbed from constant drumbeat
released vile pus that would not scar over
formed venomous channels into her brain
while relentless torture became the norm
all she did was to speak out against injustice
demanded to live and narrate her own story
pure untarnished by complicit thought control
but they crushed her pen and broke her fingers
mocked all resolve and continued to pulp her
into surrender and waited for her to give up
they fed her night mares and rationed the food
but insomniac and starving she became immune
to deprivation and depraved masters of evil
twisted wrists though fractured and disfigured
shaped her escape when handcuffs loosened
sharpened restraints into blades of defence
the ache did not vanish but altered her view
on humanity incarceration and empowerment
liberation comes at a price and increased value
she locks the door behind me and glimpses revenge
no pardon no thumb screws not even cut throats
for when oppressors have no one else to persecute
but themselves the ultimate punishment is served
23rd April 2021
Writing Prompt Ache
Constance La France
Holy Love At Stake
Quiescent prayer reached the flames in half hearted conviction when
flamboyant immolation reached ‘Gundred’ at the stake of retribution
Should she have been quartered tarred and feathered first to keep the
luscious cleansing fire engulfing her up from ankles to impious mind
was the arcane message to ambivalent for the crowd to understand
Or had she been the one who lead a righteous life ahead of her times
precocious in enlightenment a revolutionary Queen of selfless justice
‘Aelfraed’ thought in bittersweet confusion that the wicked witch had
little chance to float on water or on the ashes to prove guilt or innocence
when tactile palpitations joined him and her across their heart’s desire
They had been lovers for five years of quintessence in pride and greedy
lust shared bed and table where she had mixed her potions for seduction
How he now wished in gluttony and envy that it was him to be eaten
by the conflagration with the raging congregation hurling abuse and
bits of misdirected conscience at the puppet of humbug and hypocrisy
Was it human fallow weakness that made his prayers succumb to doubts
or was it God incinerating his blasphemous Goddess for there was nothing
No relief for ‘Gundred’ with ‘Aelfread’ the forlorn intercessor beseeching
in too moderate modest helplessness standing by his passion numbed he
wondered if he adjured too feebly or why else the Messiah did not heed his call
12th November 2016
I drive through sultry green-leaved countryside;
so divorced from toxic urban suicide,
I notice a black and white hand-painted sign
emerging on my right side
of patriotic red resolution,
"STAND UP
FOR YOUR COUNTRY"
Which feels aimed against
tall and massive Black
Lives Mattering athletes
on politicized knees
before national commodified cameras
of discontent.
Yet also aimed at me,
longing to erase homophobic "COUNTRY"
Despite our polycultural beauty
and historical promise
of universal democracy,
of economic regenerating energy,
Longing to replace this monocultural
narrow patriotic word
with our Whole Open Systemic
"PLANET"
of interdependent tribes
and green cooperative corporations.
No sooner thought
than multiculturally retransfigured
to please
and pleasure
and paradise us all,
STAND UP,
AS YOU ARE ABLE,
FOR YOUR COUNTRY
AND OUR PLANET
To do otherwise
feels like still having empty hope
that Straight White Daddy knows best
While his wife
and kids
and grandkids
and other sentient organic property
are poisoned,
suffocated,
drowned,
burned,
shot,
plagued,
terrorized,
criminalized,
hate-crimed,
vilified,
tarred and feathered,
hung,
beheaded,
commodified,
commercialized,
bought and sold,
rented out,
pimped,
capitalized,
exploited,
extracted from the herd,
marginalized,
impoverished,
Othered,
sex-crimed
While starving,
thirsting for global
ecofeminist
green cooperative
win/win EarthJustice
Soaking into sultry green-leaved countryside
divorced from toxic nationalistic suicide.
Plucking the Poisonous Parrot
Antonia had been a happy go lucky flamingo until her wings cracked
Now cascades of monotonous voices extracted venomous bickering
The parrot she took on as a charity case to quell her sadness now pecked
And would not shut up until the cage engulfed both vicious black souls
In her black box of contempt and too tired to shine life plucked away
Her coat tarred and feathered hanging from a thread of Munch’s scream
She attempted to touch away the poisonous croaking until she hung
Upside down from the swing with her head drowning in char coaled paint
Which oozed into her every pore morose and devoid of harmony’s rainbow
She became so void that all chakras burned in toxic cantankerous fire
Beatings of her life parroted a cacophonous mind pierced and exploding
Until everything shattered even her deafening malignant resentment
When the clock struck midnight and there was nothing more to vanish
But her Self and the stained melancholy sheet of dysphonic dysphoria
She remembered Oscar of the novel The Tin Drum shouting so loudly
That her crystal dysmorphic mirror imploded and bars bent under the strain
With her last resolve she plucked the parrot and An-Tonia was free
Colours shone brightly once again and the voices were good
She buried the bird under an olive tree with a song of epitaph’s prayer
And kept one single feather to remind her just in case it was not yet dead
20th January 2019
Contest entered: Free style poetry contest sponsored by Emily Pinet
His name was Ed Goodwin, a handsome man with piercing steel blue eyes, known in the small town of Marianna Arkansas as the leading architect. If DNA flows through our veins from one generation to another so does the Spirit from the past.
At dusk, Goodwin happened upon town constituents enjoying a log fire though quick to learn amid the laughter of entertainment that a young boy was about to be tarred and feathered. He motioned aside their gaiety and demanded to know the reason. "No, he has done nothing wrong. Let him go!" One did not argue with Ed and from him I learned compassion, though I still wonder to this day how the young boy's mother managed to remove the feathers and tar from her son's body. From her, I learned fear.
With my compassion and fear in hand, I was further schooled by Ed's daughter, Dinky (named at birth for her 2 pound weight) to always stand up for what you believe in no matter how long it takes. You must always put yourself in the other person's place and ask yourself, "How would I feel it that were me and you'll never go wrong." From Dinky I learned caring.
I now had compassion, caring, fear and spirit. Love was acquired all along the way as I was constantly told amid my bitching, "Smile, Child of God." "You're going to miss me when I'm dead and gone!"
I do miss Dinky and Yes Dink, I do believe that we are all Children of God. I only wish everyone had an Ed Goodwin and a Dinky Doll to make them as happy and strong as you have made me. Thanks and God Bless!
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : LXXV
IF ever I had a country with flaming flags flying on every lamp-post weather-cock and tree
And if ever I were by my highest degree qualification appointed the Director-General of Museums Zoos Botanico-Ornithological Gardens Parks and Cemetries
I would make it a point of the Most Urgent Order that every bird gaily chirping warbling shrieking or even grumbling in its own particular brand of cursing for free
Either lone or in chorus or in competition with its own kind or in contempt of other feathered outlandish melodies
Together with every howling hound bellowing beast croaking crocodile cursing cat or mocking monkey
That they be taught and made to learn by rote under pain of plunder and pillage of their property to belt out the National anthem every dawn and at the crowing down of the Sun in its reverie
Or else be banished tarred and feathered forthwith from My Dearly-Beloved Country after forfeiting their tongues never to sing again and this after coughing up an astronomical fine of a fee for the capital crime of Lèse Majesté
That is, if ever I were appointed the Most Distinguished Protector of the Patrimony as the Director-General of Museums Zoos Botanico-Ornithological Gardens Parks and Cemetries
Even if I never ever had no country where no birds trill tongues or beasts bellow
bestialities and mockeries
© T. Wignesan - Paris, March 26, 2019
5/25/22
Living in the nether
Couldn't keep it together
For a long time wore a fetter
Remaining tethered
Occasionally got tarred and feathered
To your expectations I lost interest if I'll ever measure
Eventually I read a letter
Took off my sweater
Then walked an Irish Setter
With a harness and leash made of leather
I already moved on, but I'm not a forgetter
These days there's a lot of rumor spreaders
Throughout any kind of weather
Instead of settling for lesser
I got to do better at saving cheddar
The same is said for pushing a hard line toward treasure
Felt like I fell into a great rift
Then into a snake pit
Had to escape quick
Before any fangs bit
Instead of staying on the same
I had to change it
Instead of being makeshift
Meanwhile I started to weightlift
Off the leash
To say the least
I sunk in my teeth
And had a feast
Just like a beast
In all directions, even the East
I always wish the best to my nephew and niece
Now I need to accomplish more feats
Until I'm deceased
Became a changed man
Dealt some strange hands
Across a wasteland
Just when it all started to rain bad
Couldn't stay sad
Instead I'll remain glad
If I may add
Regardless of what fate had
I had an adaptable game plan