Long Township Poems
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Silently,while soft rain drums on zinc in sorrowed streets,
My soul kneels where she once stood,my gal, my need,my nevermore.
crying droplets chant in syllables of her smile-sweet, small,
Silvered syllables sipping across haze and humiliation.
Her mother-a Mount Olympus of ten thousand frustrations-
mouths malice in midday markets,
sparking sparks of spite,her words whipping like wet rope.
Her uncle,a dog trainer with a dog chain in his hand,a dog's dark echo,
unchains his hate,barking at the boy he thinks too poor to dream.
I still see her ebony eyes in puddles, trembling,
telling tales of thunder,
''my township Romeo From Another Earth And Sky, ''they breathe,
be brave-Ill come back from another earth and sky
not this world of man''
But love is leashed to their lies
and the leash tears her heart before she can run.
Now I rap my requiem-
rhymes for rain,rhythm for regret,
Heartbeats hammered into-half remembered hope.
She died of a broken vow-not hers,
but the world of a world that kills its kindest loves.
Rain don't remember her name,
but I do-every drop spells my gal.
Soft syllables,same sorrow,same song,
for the gals the gods forgot to guard.
There is a place that doesn't go to sleep,
From dawn to dusk,
Nothing changes,
Desire is on the run.
There is a place where ambition and rivalry are birthed,
Sycophants seize the day,
Sing their praises and the door is left open,
Sing their praises and opportunity smiles at you.
There is a place where gloom pervades the decision chambers,
The leaders are saddled with the enigma,
The missing pieces are hidden from the light,
The night is recalcitrant to let out.
There is a place where rapid-paid ransom returns the captives,
A delay in delivery detonates the bomb,
To the earth, the bodies finally belong,
An eternal loss and anguish of hearts.
January 19, 2024.
Oh Contention civil liberties that I so mention
enduring the cooperating social groups non-functional
non-binary confused disrupted abused circumstance
non-existent analytical disagreements freed
my people in cage my people members
who have developed organized patterns
of structural broad groupings people having
common traditions non-biased institutions
method of organized people
~
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
~
Disagreeing with my philosophy
total anarchy substitution revolution
freedom of speech
but I can't spell forcing my opinion
but I can't talk walk in my purpose but I'm in a wheelchair
Society and politics a aggregated people living together
in a more or less orderly community
endangered species lying in the feces
Mason's abroad uprising institutions collective activities
~
freed men bond and free township cities and villages
determine how people live who am I to tell you how to dress
what food to eat or what to believe in method
Oh! of organized people
The way we govern only the few govern the masses
speak but only the few government
am I Democrat Republican or independent
in my fascist pig what right do I have socialite metaphoric independent communist revolutionist the way that countries are governed
the ways that countries make rules and laws
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
~
to manage humanity in an invisible border
properly rule and govern anti-corruption
transparency arms control climate and environment
combating drugs and crime countering terrorism
cyber issues economic prosperity
the Green party Libertarians Constitutional Party
Law in Order National Law party
all of these them laws governs choice mandated opinion
argumentative what are you...
~
The tyrants ruling feeling society and politics do not mix
10/24/23
For society and politics Poetry Contest
Robert James Liquori
Standing on the deck of a Quebec Eastern township home,
Views take my breath away, you are alone in the wilderness.
Hints of lavendar, pine and cedar fill the air so fresh and clear,
Red coloured earth peeks through spots between forests of green.
High on a hill you strain to see the river meander through the valley,
The sun kisses the tops of pines, leaving reflections on the water.
Only at night does the valley start to reveal its true secrets,
Lights peeking through the trees glow down the mountainside.
Smoke rises from the chimneys of the hidden homes,
Bonfires burn in backyards, voices echo over the air,
Rain rolls in with lightening flashing pictures of the scene,
Thunder rocks the hills and mist begins to rise from the trees.
Revealing the roadways where the water evaporates on the tar,
Showing the winding pathways to the hidden houses in the forest,
Then the sun shines bright bringing the forest back to life,
Leaving only the earth, water and air as it was meant to be.
''Although only breath,words which I command are immortal''-Sappho, The Lover of Lesbos
The Lover's Lane Sermon. Uncensored Version
Klevahs jive with hollow echoes,streets glow like fake scenes,
Slaap Jans parade as greatness,hollow hearts clap along,
Pleasure devours the thoughtful,noise replaces silence-
We are caught flat-footed in limbo.
They worship nyaope,ignore the forge of truth,
Truth bending Influencers preach, Vloggers sermonize,
Top shayelas reigns and the meek pretend wisdom-
The Springbok sees the deceit.
Tomorrow will mock them,their children inherit shadows,
Malls,taxi ranks,hearts unsung,flames extinguished,
The music of courage lost,echoes fading in skyscrapers-
Regret will stalk their lives
I lament the death of song,ink drowned in apathy
Lover's letters lost in feeds,silenced,poems scrolled away
Wisdom left unread,memory hollowed by light-
The Secretary Bird mourns alone
Leaders smirk from gilded chairs,blind to justice,
Corruption glitters, where virtue once held sway,
Yet look to the ancients: Suzman,Blackman,Harmse
Mothers of wisdom guide the lost.
Return to fire,not fashion,return to song,not slogan
Seek beauty in duty,love as flame,not fleeting-
Let truth rise,let courage blaze anew,
Flames heal-if we risk the blaze.
Guide to The Uncensored Lover's Lane Sermon:
In your reading of this fragment be guided like this
Stanza 1- The Eternal Blaze
Stanza 2: The Falsehoods
Stanza 3: What moderns will regret
Stanza 4: What Sappho herself regrets
Stanza 5:Flawed leadership/Moral regeneration
Stanza 6: The solution to all of mankind's problems
Beautiful friends of Sappho:
Suzman: Helen Suzman
Blackman: Molly Blackman
Harmse:Hellena Susana Harmse
Click languages terms:
Kaas-The lokasie,the kasie,the location,the township.All places where black South African live
klevahs-the wise guys
Slaap Jan-A know-nothing
top shayelas-the high living
nyaope-drugs
tounship-township
contemporary Persian ancient
blending intro-imagery with peach
vulnerability
identity a Khoisan outpouring on fields of Skukuza healings
whilst township dancers make their rites
to bite presence on platform sites
so will Gen Z’s make their
vibrant scratches on our rock walls
for Galactics to visit tall
courage was torn with rosemary bushes like
biltong shreds
¥
he pierced her teenage framework newly
smoothed with rosemary
galaxies watched in horror
scratched her legs with longing paws
Gen Z’s roared their rage across
the continent
she bit her presence into his poverty
townships waited in mourning
her virginity ripped
identity equals Acturian
vulnerability is paintbrush memories
seven shadowy children
are to arrive crystal
not through her uterus
Bazaar,
Storing all a"s,the bazaar,
Of the three one is profit,
Bazaar like the heart of the township,
Supplying noise commodities to the ear consumers free,
A place buying richness and selling poorness,
Most of the sellers only with minds but hearts,
Money is like blood running all over the Shop nerves,
Some buys,some sells,some bags and some begs,
Also some bugs drawing blood in the down town,
The debt rolling like wheels,
Very busy like only today no tomorrow's,
The merchants of Venice sits,
Shylocks carrying fault scales to weigh flesh,
Bazaar,the chased satan's official bungalows!
At the mercy of anticipatory anxiety, hence...
viz hitted courtesy debilitating panic attacks
Upon waiting for vehicular repair
today November 19th, 2019 at:
CJ'S TIRE & AUTOMOTIVE SERVICES
(1405 S Township Line Rd,
Royersford, PA 19468),
yours truly, i.e. mister re: man
registered lamentable paroxysm.
All thru mein kampf inferiority complex
analogous invisible muscular heft did flex,
quaking, hijacking, agonizing...
jinxed irrevocable hex
re: heredity did initially index
courtesy Boyce and Harris,
who begat me
guaranteed, fixed, decreed...
courtesy accursed lex
lucifer mortal christened
Matthew Scott Harris – insinuated
jackknifed, kickstarted, limned,
machined, nixed, ordered... orifex
encompassing hardiest inscrutable
seminal entry point
penetrated zona pellucida, qua Rex
wrought flawed crown
faulty erroneous biological code,
within body electric mutation
fleshed out, I lament
analogous courtesy neophyte Unix
programmer, yes I hedge
to intimate biological event
upon impregnation sent
reproductive juices into action
miracle whipped processes
wielded unbeknownst advent,
whereby subsequent
cell division manifested,
albeit nine months later enfant
terrible asper:in,
this then newborn gent
lo' within zygote,
every generic ingredient
already harbored yours truly
characteristic weaknesses full extent
unbeknownst until DNA blooper rent
birthed, thence as I developed absent
pronounceable kinks vis a vis
trademark characteristics became present
evinced thru behavioral, emotional,
interpersonal, neurological aberrations
costing me (lake dude...) woebegone descent
wretchedness faux forfeiting every moment
only recent (think today)
entire existence misspent
oddly enough even compromising
ability to serve meant
two daughters, (especially eldest)
decry horrible life pent
up with rage against human machine
referring to paternal birth parent,
whose pathetic example rent
asunder psyches linked with offspring
hence, I best ought to have
joined a convent (ha).
Twas really only of late,
I realized fuller blown extent
house zing deplorable... state
absolute zero scholastic, tete a tete
opportunistic, generic, athletic...
*****sapien astride oblate
spheroid devoid of any
marketable skill doth resonate.
Verse 1
Epitaph for the Queen of the Night
A starlit siren, she shone so strongly bright,
The radiant, raving ruler of the night's riot
right.
Her dance a dream, her dress a diamond
delight,
Now silence seals the stage, the spotlight
still so slight.
The final fade, the curtain closes calmly,
clear,
Her music memory,missed moment, mist
most marvelous here.
Verse 2
Epitaph for the Dance Master
The king of the tounship (1) , a crazy champion came,
A body bent to beating drums, a legend's
lasting lame.
He spanned the shebeen stage, a shining
storm of movement mean,
Shebeen queens quaked and wept at the
dancing scene.
The beauties bleeding blushes, threw their
threads,
He leaped from tables,laid problems to
peaceful deads.
His rhythm's a ripple on the river.forever
flowing free.
The dance just disperses,but his beat
belongs to the ground and the sky.
1. Tounship--township,location, slum, ghetto,
We were on a side quest. I wanted some cool, fresh
cherries to savor as we strolled hot Saint Tropez.
So we were in a grocery store, in the township,
I was pushing a shopping cart along the frozen food aisle
when suddenly my feet flew out from under me and I
took a hard, embarrassing, backward spill.
Peter was shocked - “What?!” He exclaimed.
One second I was up and the next I was on my back.
It was like a lightning strike or a film edit, I was like WTF?
I was in flip-flops and there was a puddle of water.
I was fine, if scuffed up - thank god I wasn’t in a dress.
I got right up, I mean I’m not a 90-year-old lady.
And after a second we walked on, only to be swarmed,
a moment later, by the store manager and his minions
- “Are you ok?” He asked, scrubbing his hands.
“Yes, I’m fine - no, I don’t want to fill out a report”
My left big-toe was swollen and bleeding - so no running
along the beach this morning - now THAT seemed weird.
I guess it was more of a back-side quest.
.
.
A song for this:
Helter Skelter by the Beatles
Trouble Me by 10,000 Maniacs