Long Underlies Poems
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When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves,
for it was not the season for figs. (Matthew 11:13b)
Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him and said of him,
“Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!”
Nathanael said to him, “How do you know me?”
Jesus answered him, “Before Philip called you,
when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.”
(John 1:47-48)
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Two interesting passages, one fairly harsh lesson:
A tree without fruit reveals unbelief.
A fig tree will fruit first, before it leafs out,
so a tree that has leaves should have fruit underneath.
Fruit underlies the outward appearance;
at least that’s the way it is supposed to be.
And how true this is of the human condition:
to say we’re a thing when we’re not is deceit.
When I say what I am, and I am what I say,
then I’m like Nathanael: a man without guile.
When Jesus first saw him there under the fig tree,
He knew he’d bear fruit; about this, no denial.
Our fig leaves conceal us on Facebook and Twitter,
daring the world to see what is behind.
We're fearful our flaws will soon be discovered;
our facade and its shallowness, others will find.
And so we beguile and we weave and deceive;
naked, ashamed, we hide in those leaves,
not trusting the one who tore back the curtain,
purchased us broken, in anguish and grief.
You may not recall, but shortly thereafter,
at this deceit, Jesus levels a curse.
He returns from the temple with his disciples;
the fig tree is withered, unbelief is judged worse.
A blessing is given to those who admit need:
a dwelling place readied, with many a room.
But woe to false pretense and to the deceivers,
whitewashed and empty, alone in their tombs.
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for the This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeh
on the subject of 'Fig Leaf'
written 04/02/2022
Trumps Feeble, Limp, Rox... Zilch State Of Emergency
H.G. Wells..., ah...now there
without dark shadow of a doubt,
in my (myopic brown) eyes,
a prolific writer hooked hood accessorize
the English language, and captivated
populations, sans "The War Of
The Worlds" to realize,
with an assiduous presentation
convinced listeners, how
aliens did cannibalize
innocent Earthlings strictly via radio,
where rapt audience could actualize
"FAKE subjects" pretended to agonize,
yea of course after receiving
substance that did anesthetize
in an effort to minimize
potential melee erupting,
which feasible outburst,
could tinder, kindle, and antagonize
crowdsourcing masses,
who suddenly became repentant,
and sought to apologize
each to their personal deity, apprise
zing respective comportment, thus
the apprenticed faux presidential Don,
rather than agonize
over farcical shenanigans, where dissension
among rank ken file seems to arise,
could take page from said playbook
visiting storied aforementioned scribe,
whose spirit author might be able to authorize
and conjure creative satisfactory
acceptable non costly deterrent breadthwise
cuz, more anger will materialize,
particularly if monies summarily brutalize
for social services that benefit the 99%
myself and the missus included analogous to...baptize
with gentile invisible knifed incision
or if Semitic tolled uncivil lies,
asper emotional financial, mental...
painless process to circumcise
purportedly for best interests
of citizens at heart, but tummy
essentially acting counterclockwise
to the modus vivendi that underlies
the immigrant experience that peopled
United States Of America, who did colonize
at expense of rightful natives
scattered innocent tribes, whose demise
vis a vis any fact checker, would
clearly recognize as blatant lies!
I apologize for the lies, I used for my disguise.
I must learn not to sympathize, but to empathize.
‘Cause my negative actions terrorize the people who I idolize and/or prize.
Therefore, I realize the fact I have to revise, minimize and sterilize my life, because of this, music is my sunrise, but only my passion for music can end my self-destruction or demise.
Therefore I need to rationalize my choices so I don’t get categorized or characterized and criticized for my evil side in which is the side of me I despise.
Therefore I vocalize (sing) and verbalize (rap),
To visualize my arise for being wise in my attack.
To recognize, penalize and exercise the poltergeist
or evil spirit which advertised the sin and lies of rap.
This is my attack, to rise, ‘cause rap today is
built on lies, so utilize your gifts and talents
to surprise, neutralize, baptize and revolutionize
a world of demise and introduce a world of facts.
I don’t wanna dignitize the world of media’s lies.
A true rebel today goes against the norm of the idolize of merchandise.
So be a true rebel and change today’s world of media. Listen to the message ‘cause the truth underlies.
So get this message because it mystifies.
These following I don’t wanna’s are mine and try to see my life through not yours, but my eyes.
1. I don’t wanna be locked up, I just wanna go home.
But I keep on doing wrong, that’s why I sing this song.
2. I don’t wanna cry no more, but I’m so depressed. But I’ve witnessed blood and gore, these feelings I express.
3. I don’t wanna be alone, I just wanna have my own. I will always sing my songs, trying to right my wrongs.
from our inner self what emotions
do we project...
what message do we transcend...
and in return what do we get...
the attraction, that underlies...
unfolding, bitter criticize...
the search obtuse,...the mind trap
set, the capturing methodical...
a surrender, we have settled...
...to all kinds of abuse, vulnerable...
desperate, for love to work,...
this social sense of security,
promised to every boy, every girl...
we read it in books,
it is found in our music,
the luring, of the something
missing, the void for some, love, lust,
for many designed to destroy...
the depth at which we search,
is dangerous, for face value, great
depths lay the siren of hurt...
seek and she will find, to settle is
a love blind, each mistake lays in
wait...only a matter of time...
blame someone else for the
path we tread
we all know self denial...
mixed words
read ...
for our hearts, are delicate,
intricate, driven from deep emotion,
one mistake can confuse,
from a love to mere slave devotion...
...we have to live with what we do,
moreover with what we say...
I made a choice that changed my life...
...the right to love gay...
there was a time when I felt ashamed,
that was due to a few mind setss'...
...I rose above, their bigotry...
their senseless prejudice...
twenty nine years on
my darling partner and I
...most of these others' are separated...
and or divorced...
It is written in the scriptures,
that what we practice is sin,
I rather die true to myself, than die a bigot,
knowing my
inner truth..."this is sin"
Brown
June 25, 2010 at 1:11pm
This is brown…umbre,
It is shadow and that which you think you see there,
It is a mixture of all colors, and as such, it includes and underlies everything,
It is ancient, born of inertia and speaks of coming to rest in quiet stillness,
Of an accumulation of things expended and discarded,
Of missing or forgetting, decaying and dying,
Of brittle leaves that rattle and shake in the wind on frigid nights,
And crumble underfoot on a familiar path,
On which we all travel, where all return to feed new growth,
Of digging ditches in hard clay, of ground in dirt and sweat stained hard labor in bronzing heat,
Of beasts and men repeatedly plowing the soil, unearthing the scent of things buried and of longing,
Of crusted rust on steel or dried scabrous blood that covers a wound as it heals,
It is solid and heavy, in the smell, taste and density of iron,
It is in the weight and feel of old books, hardwood, an immoveable stone and authority,
And the thick aroma of smoked animal hides,
Of dark tannins and impenetrable murky water,
It is an elusive space concealed by the thin surface of a momentary present,
It is the unseen and the unknown and spurs a hunger to know, it spurs all desire,
It is searching to be and yet remains neutral, here and not, forever watching, always waiting,
It is the color of awareness and a knowing sadness,
It is the weight of all life in the burden of gravity that holds us to the earth,
It is the cry of and the earth itself,
As we so deeply want to fly,
It is what prevails after all else is considered.
The story of seahorses is as enchanting as can be,
they’re a sweet little family living under the sea.
They wear skeletons on the outside for all to see.
One thousand eggs the dear daddy underlies
and gives birth to the babies called tiny “fries”.
A magical creature that changes color to pretend
to blend in with their surroundings for days on end.
Having skin not scales they are fish that transcend.
Seahorses only live under the warm tropical waters,
the proud daddy raises the sweet sons and daughters.
Blessings they bring to all children to love to gaze
in the turquois aquarium as the zookeeper displays.
Only seven miniature ounces a seahorse weighs.
Around the world fifty-four species do appear
and are under threat because of food and souvenirs.
Seahorses adore coral reefs and green seagrass beds
and have no teeth to eat so plankton they’re fed.
Under the ocean they’ve been known turn red
to match the debris found on the shoreline,
then back to yellow and green when they’re fine.
Seahorses are curious creatures so beautiful and slim
and when threatened by others, fast they swim.
They can catch their prey on a capricious whim.
I do think they’re an excellent and marvel creation,
full of dazzling charisma and captivating fascination.
Seahorses Contest
Julia Ward
May 6, 2018
The Dark Obsession - for contest
Horrendous thunderstorm of explosions
Dark clouds of the noxious obsessions....,
that we have more weapons; we fight for a cause
Malefic causes so senseless and baseless...
But paradox is, it appears noble for the offenders
Large-scale indoctrination of the young minds
for violence and ruthless destruction
Obsession of supremacy so dreadfully corrosive
Mad spree to hoard guns and WMDs,
Innocents or criminals, men or animals,
shudder with fear all that has life!
Collossal apocalypse of terror-waves ...
Atrocious erosion of moral and social fabric
Grotesque grimace at the principle of
universal brotherhood that underlies all our
holy scriptures!
Oppressed n' suppressed are the weak n' unequipped
Belligerent, pugnacious mindset mobilisation to bring
vitriolic ripping n' decaying of global peace
Peaceful waters turned filthy black with terror,
boils in the furnace to give to the globe a
shower of hot flowing blood!
Amicable contemplation to assassin this obsession
would bring no wars, no terrorism but peace!
Sustainable peace assured for the eternity!
© Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
glossary:
WMD- Weapons of Mass Destruction
For contest: The tragedy of black
sponsored by: Bev Smith
Submitted by: Anulaxmi Nayak
Written on: 18th August 2015
All dolled up in her Easter dress
She sat quietly watching through the glass
Children with baskets searching around
For the eggs i’d hidden in the grass
Her spirit soared among the clouds
Her smile as bright as her eyes
She lived each day for the moment
Scoffing the reality that underlies
It was shortly after her third birthday
When the devastating news came in
Plagued with a rare form of cancer
Faced with a battle she wouldn’t win
The doctors uncertain of her remaining time
So her quality of life was our goal
Family and friends said nightly prayers
Asking God to watch over her soul
Treatment commenced, but to no avail
My little Glass Princess was slipping away
I wasn’t ready to say good-bye
Not now, tomorrow or any day
I placed my head upon her chest
And held her body tight
I felt a presence and opened my eyes
To a most incredible sight
A bearded man in Holy cloth
Standing beside her bed
He said he’d come another time
Then gently kissed her head
I knew I had witnessed a miracle
I asked the doctor to check her condition
He said “ I have no explanation”
Her cancer has gone into remission
Nineteen years ago she defeated the odds
And this Easter she’ll wear a wedding dress
I have never questioned what happened that day
When Jesus kissed my little Glass Princess
We are eager and much willing
To find progress in forgiving!
Long as we the future living
Reap the fruit of our own digging!
Stop the bloodshed and the killing
Heed the call and hear the feelings
Do not ignore or practice grinning
We are relentless in our bidding
Rugged, aimless not quite sinners
Think of us assumed caregivers
You will serve, worship, deliver
A stern warning for those who quiver
Through the bitter night that's turning
Underlies the rage that won't stop burning
Are the questions of their forming
Huge mistrust and reckless learning
Their wretched thoughts within them roaring
Thickening soup of malice churning
Now light and darkness in them blurring
Starts the signal of societies falling
'Bless the young mind!' said the screams
Touch their skirts and gird their seams
Feel the hems within their jeans
As they bring forth these lofty ideals
Is it wisdom or foolish extremes
They resort to usher in peace
Rip through curtains, burning machines
Find a vaccine, sweep the streets
There seems certainty in the air
Fog of heat and dense dispair
Of the future that lies bare
For all the citizens of this square
Still the rantings would play on
Such as a never ending song
Hope is future, lust is lost
Youth is freedom, wisdom be gone
She struts out of the golden elevator
like the Grand Marshall of Macy’s Thanksgiving parade
Crystal high-heels rhythmically clicking
on the gleaming marble floor
Pompadour bouffant hair
that’s styled so platinum electric
Purple Persian silk dress
accentuated by a
diamond studded heart-shaped necklace
Sashay walking with such sexy flair ...
her haughty, ice-chiseled chin held high
Looks that carry a distant, superior air
She’s letting you know,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah —
she don’t dispense hellos
She’s queen caliph, empress shah ...
She’s just letting you know,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah
Her affinity for making grandiose entrances
into boardroom meetings is legendary
She loves telling the bigwig execs to pipe down,
to park their ego tubas
She’s orchestrating the show,
she’s the Grand Poo-bah
Making sure that you know,
she’s Miss Machiavellian maestro
She never dispenses any rah-rah,
it’s so unbecoming of a Grand Poo-bah
Her title didn’t come by proxy or election,
it was bestowed by a hereditary designation
Like Papa, like daughter ...
She issues grim decrees,
telling you to get your business house in order
She loves having underlies lay the red carpet down,
to give royal reverence to her ka
This lets everybody know,
she’s the imperial Grand Poo-bah