Long Tyrannies Poems
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63 YEARS ON THIS EARTH MARKING A BEAUTIFUL EPIPHANY OF RENEWED WISDOM I WASN'T BORN BY THE RIVER IN A LITTLE TENT HOWEVER I WAS BORN AT HOME FREEZING COLD ARTIC BLAST 63 YEARS AGO IN A SMALL APARTMENT NEXT DOOR TO THE CHICAGO PUBLIC LIBRARY ON HOMAN I AM TRULY BLESSED AS I CELEBRATED MY BIRTHDAY QUIETLY CALMLY HUMBLY MEEK WITH THE PURE KNOWLEDGE THAT SO MANY LOVED ONES DIDN'T SEE 30 40 50 60 KNOWING WHEN I BURSTS THROUGH THE FIRES INTO THE WORLD MARTIN WAS WRITING HIS I HAVE A DREAM SPEECH HOW MY TINY SOUL SURVIVED SUCH TYRANNIES 1963 BORN ON SAM COOKS BIRTHDAY 63 YEARS LATER A SPIRITUAL EPIPHANY MY PLATINUM DIAMOND BIRTHDAY A RENEWAL OF WISDOM A SPIRITUAL AWAKENING IF YOU WILL THE MILESTONES THROUGHOUT MY JOURNEY MY PILGRAMAGE HERE ON THIS EARTH THROUGH TRIUMPHS TEARS ILLNESS FORGIVENESS LAUGHTER AND SO MUCH JOY MY GIFT TO MYSELF THIS YEAR IS SHEER PEACE HAPPY BIRTHDAY COCOA THANKS BE TO GOD I AM TRULY BLESSED
1963 AND ME
Old friend I fear no peace, no life’s atone,
only silent condemnation disguised -
this misfortune is mine and mine alone
and to that end I have philosophised.
To the wider picture of death and woe
and to the same fates of unventured love -
to life’s grim audit of joy and sorrow,
to dream to unknow what I am sure of.
We are a hostage to our tyrannies,
prisoners of old hostilities.
Locked away for life and time
and I fear the years have outlived mine.
That I be ambushed in early gambit
for my king was a sacrifice too great -
just a pawn in a game and I am it
plays out its capture and stalemate.
He not bared to his human desires nor
fruit on the essential vines thirsts alone -
and in the great fu*kening at my core
is an ache and fate that I must own.
We are a hostage to our tyrannies,
prisoners of old hostilities.
Locked away for life and time
and I fear the years have outlived mine.
Now a debt of faith is ransomed this day
and worse, a debit of an endless morrow -
a usury I must now bear and pay,
and from the heart this I had to borrow.
Yet I know only the end redeems all
but is late reprieve to a suffered heart -
there are no happy endings but withal
my spirit is gentled should I depart.
We are a hostage to our tyrannies,
prisoners of old hostilities.
Locked away for life and time
and I fear the years have outlived mine.
Written: September 1995
Normal is normal - it is not abnormal
Right is not wrong - or logic is terminal
Subverting a culture of tolerances and reason,
All tyrannies threaten peace and stability.
Unreasonable tyrants from belligerent minorities
Menace tranquility with total hostility.
Up is not down - orange is not black
Air is not water - opinion is not fact
Using lies to spread a dangerous delusion,
With fascist hate speech - bully invective,
Political spin spreads fear and confusion;
Objective reporting is not politician subjective.
Telling a story is not - telling The Story
If you are so proud
of your sensibilities and tastes,
so convinced that your arbitrary judgements
are infallible as heartbeats of angels,
if you are the sole instrument of God's grace and evaluations
then why don't you allow them to stand next to that which you condemn
for your peers and the world to judge,
why deny those immaculate tenets the glory
of intellectual and moral combat
to prove their legitimacy, their spiritual superiority
and not to become what they claim to understand and abhor,
who and what do you believe you are protecting,
its critics like you that retard the development of the Youth,
attempt to shame love and passion,
encourage the madness of tyrannies,
and succor the demons of oppressive cults,
does a rose hide itself in the shade,
does a beautiful sword dignify itself with wild slashes,
does the truth honor itself with silence,
does justice inspire with opinion,
Banish the bullies,
trip the trolls,
excise the malevolent,
leave passionate love alone...
I declare,
let there be contrast,
let there be Art -
J.A.B.
In the silence of heaven
there are half-buried machines
where a man once wanted to dwell!
Some of these were built with a design in mind
with regards to deities' fame and Tyrannies.
Awash in the propped-up ancient lies
of creations wreckage covers
all in chrome and thunderstorms.
...an Oceans shining through
to see the ships a sail on heaven seas
In the heart of what will be
all there is,
is the dead staring past into infinity!
And the machines of ancient gods, diluted deities
A washed in electric snow
like holy furies
Adrift from hollowed centuries...
In the breath of the Sacred
and the profane.
In the tranquility of heaven
there are silent machines
where men once dwelled.
Awash in the propped-up
ancient lies like creations wreckage cover all
in tapestries of thunderstorms.
Here The Carrion lie...
In to seas shining through
To witness ships sail in heaven breeze.
Somewhere between the silence of heaven
and the rage of the heart
lies the lands of where thunderstorms depart.
in mass-produced photographs leaking
oils and plastics into oceans eternally
churning secret species speaking sonar
beyond the corridor of human tongues
awaiting arrivals admirals of slaughter promulgate
fading flags of kings and queens aging on God’s throne
as veins rise to the surface and lines on maps bulge winds
direct tyrannies toward destinations cultivated by natives
beholding prophecies piercing membranes of skylines
families gather in gluttonous homes quiet as guilt
consuming bounties bound in card-board consumed
by glowing signals processing visions of impotence
and incompetence revealing its radiating birthmark
shaped like a deformed diamond vapid as brutality
Only Time Will Tell
Is it possible to heal all wounds through time
casting off our mortal coils?
Life goes on regardless of
past tyrannies which will surface
striking at any time,
inhibitors to happiness or just a normal life
Time is a stream flowing out into an ocean of eternity
Shall it not deliver us from bruises and trauma incurred?
Only time will tell
The tyranny of memory a serenity
torn down by the traumas,
surviving the tyranny of memory, just surviving!
A strategy is necessary to rid oneself of the terror inside,
to endure and challenge this relentless bully
seeking relief in alternative avenues when the traditional fails
Depending on how we experience time, Rodin's
The Thinker for instance, in a pensive repose
His body twisted and rife with tension
aligned with prism color,
brushed in a glowing bronze,
titanium silvers, canary golds
and indigo blues embedded
Appearing to be idling time away to some,
whilst others see what truly
matters—his philosophy
Time truly heals all wounds
as we shed our mortal coils
Will not all pain and despair be left behind?
Finally ridding us of ourselves
leaving our ghost force to fend for its
self from the law and order of everything
of all matter and non.
OH! Education! Why are you not reaching to all?
When everyone longs for you after all.
Governments spend tens of millions
To educate the children in billions.
Still, you make it a point
Not to reach the ultimate point,
Reaching the unreached.
Educating all is a mission for all
Educating children, adults, the old
Education for All.
Those who possess you alone know
How powerful you are.
People believe you are life's life.
And the apple of eye of that life,
Guiding the beastly men and women
To a world humane,
The Beast becomes human.
Skills and manuals become human resources.
It is you who have been and are instrumental
In breaking the unfounded beliefs,
Mindless suppressions, Totalitarianisms,
Tyrants and their tyrannies
Demagogues, parochial unfounded idiosyncratic
Democratically elected rules and their welfare beliefs.
But I have a trouble
Why do 'they' believe
You are available only in schools
So is there a chaos
between education and schooling.
As there has always been between teaching and learning.
When someone teaches
While someone tries to impose
That someone fails to understand
That Education fails
And learning becomes unlearning.
OH! Education! You are the wonder
To wonder the world.
You empower him to prove
Where common man is not very common
Ordinarily people become extraordinary.
He becomes hero of times.
When he possesses you,
The weapon of knowledge and light.
The mere thought of you
makes my heart speak
I reach for you with no memory
of ever being without you
my mind wander within this space
my soul's a galaxy of your haze
replacing the gentle hues
with a magnificent enrichment
craving my inner most thought
I'm tangled in you manhood
gathering life's essence desiring
man embracing the warmness
of your touch the melancholy rapture
gazing over forgiveness capturing
acceptance loving you just as you are
change nothing in my sight
for I may be driven to explore
other shores preoccupied by your
masculine energy mastering
this son of man son of god
moving over the tyrannies
of haste morbidly leaving me
in ah the purity of our passion
tainted only by time the vintage
wines bestowing my beauty
soothing every line from the
nape of my neck to the small
of my back the silkiness of my legs
the sculpture of your ribs the form
of your arms around my waist
I shiver and quake patiently
awaiting your arrival opening
my sensual self above the hidden
moon as clouds fill the heavenly sky
I search for you always by and by
written by Mrs. Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
xxxtestingxxx
Impartial
litigation is what
sustains democracies
Kangaroo courts are what
sustain tyrannies
Does the judge
represent the rule
of law or the decision
of an autocrat?
Tyranny flourishes
when decent people
do nothing
Those defending
the dictator
pirouette with a
nonchalant indifference
as the tappers stamp
defending their case
for justice with a determined
fierce percussion
With their hands in the air
The jurors must make their
decision, observing, confusion,
is there a resolution?
What shows a judge’s gavel impatience
Ultimately, we the jury are the people
Autocracy or democracy?