Long Undying Poems
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OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
Do you think I care
For your phony Arab spring
And dead trees and hot wind
I have never seen a spring without seed popping from the soil
I should know I am made from the dust of the earth
Spring must have rain and bring flowers
Like the peace people use to sell in California
Before I knew they were only exploited slaves
Following someone else's agenda
Muttering words that were meaningless to their existence
You see what I cannot believe in what I see again
I am a man of faith, and have always been
Since the blindfold fell like scales of history
There is no Arab spring
Only the death of the old undying resistance
That would not conform to nothing but self
Only the death of people in the street
Who does not know the puppiteer willed them
For if they return from the dead
What will they see
Only the same old things more dilapidated than before
Only the invisible hand doing visible things
Killing people and calling it spring
That the new world order may prevail
As a new nomenclature
For the same old stuff that has made us barren
And berefted us of dreams
I want my children to better off than I have been
I can only entrust to me
Sleeping at their door armed with a prayer and an angel
That is who we were
Before the primitive hordes came from the sea
Before the sea people defied the bounds of their habitation
Before our empires were stolen
And we ended up in cages at the Bronx zoo
Yeah, you should read that story too
It is only by prayers we suruvive
It is the mystic part of us, the first part they derided
Calling it animism, or some dark sinister stuff
Making us afraid to own ourselves
We abandoned everything and found no berth
In their new economic order
For we were always commodities or some sort of value in exchange
So those high sounding, idealistic documents
They copied from what we believe but could not bring to pass
Those constitutions were not about us nor our possibility
For we were not construed to have humanity enough for that.
Then are we suddenly men again
That the Arab spring should be something more than a sinister thing.
I stop believing in Trojan horses long ago
I mean it is there as a gift
But I will keep working the night shift
When there is no moon
Just remember what is the color of my skin
Because all things work together for good
And I cannot walk by sight in the darkness
So I live by faith in season and out of season.
CALIBER:
Burn out the news,
If you think of it being new.
The talk of what I've been through,
Doesn't appear as truth.
It's a risky deal for you.
I'm seeing it with few,
To be an unimaginable conceptualised deal.
Back in our younger days,
Where we just trap to efface.
Something I never accept to taste.
People call me lame of shame,
For I choose to be myself in the game.
Smoking, killing, robbing never my aim.
Wasn't part of reasons why I came.
I get a different plan all the same,
With my red eyes picturing my lane.
Impressing nobody, fear not to be sane.
Go ahead and shoot me Mr. Sake of fame.
What gets me stronger is an undying flame,
Unlimitedly causing magnificence,
Born out of intellectuality walled by faith.
This citation proves my legitimacy on slate.
As I stand by personal competence to be awake,
To clearly elaborate minds laid on await.
At the end we all will be clinged by conjugate.
And our spines will elevate,
Causing a tremendous change to propagate.
No suicide, fratracide would be in minds.
And every heart will show some kind,
Only for that goal to be held as one.
When the table serve some wine,
We then say a good deal is done.
But hold on some minute,
Maybe you're actually not getting it.
Well, Some also might be lost to think,
Especially those folks diregarding this.
This is a reality defining who I am.
I don't go contrary to the norm.
That's going wayward or doing wrong,
Because I don't forget where I'm from.
And I throw no stones to those who conform,
To the system that corrupts.
It's their choice,and I'm informed.
In my circle do I not stay common,
Assertively taking refuge in a dungeon,
Protected by Judah's Greatest Lion.
On him do I forever rely on.
My strength and happiness,
Sourced from his greatness.
Placing me at the top to be fearless.
What then could make my life baseless?
I'm brave and earnest.
Withstanding against pellets,
Discharged to cause breakdowns,
Against my life anyhow.
In fact, this is really detrimental.
Yet, I modify it willfully to be topical.
Funny how the narration goes,
I don't care about it though .
I stay keenly to achieve my goals..
Strictly do I hate to oppose.
And thank God my ambitions is not disclosed,
For my worth to be blemished the most.
Yes,I'm Anderson Walkingshoes!
I'm strong, determined and bold.
The proverbial victim immortalized forever
Seeing Prince Charming when you gazed into his eyes, but, beyond your
delusion stood Satan himself fantasizing about how he was to devour your flesh.
Sibyl's true love for Dorian did not see deceit's nasty warnings.
Narcissistic Dorian could not be abated.
The torment of others didn't reach his conscience.
He craved only masturbation material for his wicked ego.
His evil heart overpowered all.
His sinister desires are all that ruminated through his diabolical mind
Loving Dorian only left Sibyl starving.
His heart was not capable of returning the undying devotion she felt for him.
He was no man.
Only a hollow shell, pretending to feel love while concealing his laughter for his
unsuspecting prey.
Loving Dorian only killed you.
He compromised your integrity
Stole your innocence
Taking from you what you could never retrieve
Just because he could
But, don't worry your pretty little head, Sibyl.
You will never be forgotten.
Especially by Sir Dorian Gray
Though I imagine that he would give anything to have a moment of peace from
the horrifying images of your tragic ending, for all eternity his thoughts will be
haunted by images of your ruby red blood, desperate cries and the contortion of
your dying body.
Sometimes he will think it is just a nightmare, but this is something from which
he will never wake.
He will pray for an ending to his torment, but his wish will never be granted.
Though ultimately Sibyl, you took your own life there is blood dripping from
Dorian's claws.
Evil must be punished like everyone else and that is the embodiment of Dorian
Gray's icy heart.
Now Dorian must cloak his own sins.
His evil soul destroyed himself and all those who had the misfortune to love him.
Though he salivated at the thought of his next conquest, time and time again,
Dorian's self hatred and inner demons engulfed him until he plunged into his
darkened abyss from which he will never escape.
His most unfortunate transgression of all was choosing to live a superficial
existence, choosing eternal youth and beauty over true love.
Sybil Vane was the only woman whose love was pure enough to rescue him.
Dorian will forever be tormented knowing that he obliterated his guardian angel,
the only one that could have saved him - from himself.
God Made Me A Smooth Thorn,
Poking The Eyes Of My Neighbors,
Oh They Despise Me; So They Envy My Black,
See I'm Beautiful Yet Filled With Simplicity,
I Walk Earth Like Any Other Living Creature,
Honestly I Think Above And Beyond Stature,
Cause I am A Confederate Of Good Nature-
I Breathe, Eat, Sleep- How Can I Not Deserve The Same Right?
As The White Man That Lives Across The Street-
My Color Might Be Different- Black
But My Black Is Worth Breathing,
And As Far As Worthiness Is Concerned, My Black Is Priceless.
I am A Simply Complex Beauty,
Thus Humanity Justifies- Thence A White Life;
Hath No Greater Value Then Mines-
So Why Am I Being Whipped?
Why Am I Made To Weep?
As My Father's And Mothers Stand Witnesses,
Why Am I Ill-treated?
Yes Mr. White, So What's Your Worth, If I May Ask?
Cause As Far As Worthiness Goes My Black Is Priceless;
See You Have Been Dragging Me;
Since I Was A Grandchild;
And Now That I am A Grandfather-
You Still Proceed To Humiliate Me,
I am Counting My Scars; Sparks Of Survival;
Yet You Fuel My Undying Heat;
Can't You See I'm Struggling To Contain, The Fires Inside,
But How Will I Still Hold It In;
When You Killed My Brother?
Yes He Was Black; Oh, Thus You Despise-
But He Was Also Advocate Of Humanity,
That Bit You Failed To See,
So How Can You Judge Me-
When I Start Acting Like A Monkey?
For You Think You're The Lion,
Won't I Retaliate The Only Possible Way That I Know-
Indeed My Color Is Different-
And I, As The Wounded Tiger; I Cry Silent,
But As Far As Worthiness Goes;
My Black Is Priceless.
There Still Are Reasons- I Contemplate About,
Why Do You Choose This Route?
To Treat Me Lesser Then You Treat Your Pet Dog-
You Incarcerated My Whole Generation,
Yet You Can't Tolerate The Few That Survived Your Obliteration,
I Realized You Can't Condone My Breathing,
As If You Are Violated By My Living-
Isn't That Your Reason To Why You Eliminate,
Everything That's My Strength And Power;
He Who Kills Family Killed Humanity;
See You Can't Stand My Beauty,
It Hurts You, It Taunts You, It Shows You Your Ugliness,
So You Resorted To Oppression-
Which I Believe Is Because; I am Black And Unfathomable;
So Mr. White, What's Your Worth, If I May Ask?
Cause As Far As Worthiness Concerned My Black Is Priceless.
Freedom foremost, and the will to fight
to keep and protect our natural rights.
Nightclubs, jello shots, disco balls
mechanical bulls, beers cold and tall!
Baseball, football, and basketball games,
crazy rodeo riders on horses untamed.
Books by the millions, more than can be read,
and knowing anything can be by anyone said.
Burgers on buns, potato and tortilla chips,
yeah, those are American, born in Texas!
Satirical cartoons, radio and TV,
the magic that was Hollywood, as it used to be.
Ragtime, Bee-bop, Rockabilly, and Jazz
Swing, R & B, movie soundtracks, and Bluegrass.
The warm blanket of country when feeling cold,
the power and fury of rock and roll.
The grind of hip-hop and of rap…
on second thought, we apologize for that.
But funk gets things all out of control,
and who can say no to harmonious soul?
Stream locomotives, tracks narrow and wide,
flying machines that soar through the sky.
The glorious art that is the western,
and old Las Vegas, the moral tester.
The miracle of southern barbeque,
the burn of moonshine, or Mountain Dew.
Soft ice crew and greasy-fast French fries,
the expectation that politicians lie.
Liberty in law deeply enshrined,
muscle cars driving of the right side.
Suburbs, cabins, farms and guns,
and every legally available type of fun.
Forests, combines, and big chain-saws,
as well as full equality before the law.
A vast landscape, awesome to see,
an undying faith in our families.
Art from great down to lackluster,
recalls, vetos, and filibusters!
Checks and balances on the powerful,
we invented the internet, so things are never dull!
Mountain bikes and rollers blades,
fried chicken and biscuits, porterhouse steak.
Diners, dairy bars and fast food,
we walked on the friggin’ moon,
and built the only probes that escaped
into the void of interstellar space.
I could go on, I am tempted to,
but I think I’ve made my point to you,
And when young fool have yelled there fill,
reject their nonsense talk of “guilt.”
All nations have screwed up, it’s so
but perfection is something man never knows.
This nation still tires to confront is sins,
and brings forth profusions of great things.
The scales upon which we are weighed,
are ever clear in what they say:
When it all is said and done,
America is made of awesome.
"Blue Avians and the Poetic State of Mind
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures.
they had a keen sense
of the poetic.
without speaking,
they intuitively
understand
the misunderstood.
The Blues
shot right through
to the heart
of the matter.
Triangulation.
seated in
lapis lazuli
Merkaba
thrones
they fly
in fierce squadrons
sharp eyes, and minds
surveying the In-Between Place.
extra sensory perception
they lock into targets
reading signals hidden
under the radar
the cloaked
co-ordinates
of the Draconian
the great pretenders,
finding weakness
in the criminals’
fading camouflage.
slippery scales, light weights,
the Draconian
are bird bait;
too shiny,
inherent and inherited
reptilian, lizard minds
unsettling reprobates
in false light armour;
their dangerous enabling
supporting the
underbelly of it all,
their brother,
the venomous
Arachnid army.
The Blue Avians
saw deep inside
the Necromancer’s
deep indigo heart,
the blue heart of true mother.
they were for her
with faith
every time;
for like them, after all,
she also could fly
with the full strength,
the force of will in her mind.
they would fly
by her side. anytime.
they held no fear
of her motives,
her just moment,
her calling mission
for return of her child,
in the fullness of time.
they see
and they feel
the fierce call
of the Necromancer’s
true mind.
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures,
they possessed a keen sense
of swift justice.
they read
without speaking
truth in
the poetic,
a unifying
undying
poetically alienated
state of mind
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset;
I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky."
"In the sphere I am everywhere the centre,
as She, the circumference, is nowhere found."
Eye of Horus.
Horus.
Thoth.
Nuit.
POTD 19 September 2017
Apprehensively I tramp with my lamp - through a path shrouded in gloom
Silvery shafts of light entwine and fight through foliage as they creep
Gnarled branches twist as I resist their sinister outstretched grabbing reach
With a hushed bated breath I move in stealth - to allow the restless spirits sleep
I have heard and have feared the ancient Mystical stories that are told
Of a fabled cave of age where these immortal spirits abide
A sacred and elated reverie this questing soul with them seeks
To allow ‘The Oracles’ now - to show where my elusive love hides
I have heard it expressed in a blessed rapturous appellation
This glowing love from above that eludes this restless yearning child
A bliss infused kiss that Celestial Beings have been heard to applaud
A connection of perfection that would make Heaven look down and smile
In my quest to find the nest of undying unconditional love
I search alone to find my throne in the mighty caverns of the sphere
May the spirits guide until I find my bride in barren breaths of cold
And now I see in this mystic cavity an apparition does appear
In a gentle voice I do rejoice and hold captive in their chambers
My son are you the one seeking lasting love in our golden grotto
I say yes and will you bless my jaded journey thus far I have made
We’re beings of infinity descending divinity as above so below
I fall to my knees as they say with ease - Feel the vibes of the stone
Before you embark look within your heart - Love explodes there and beyond
I shed a tear with a cavernous cheer and find where I have failed
My soul anew now I'm due for my love to be Spiritually spawned
Acknowledgement from Maria (Down Under) -
To my very dear friend and Poet Extraordinaire`-The illustrious (((Winged Warrior)), for producing this collaboration together with me. It is no surprise at the effortless speed of this production - virtually overnight (because of the time difference), and then another night with the sprucing up. It was good fun and we must do it again WW.
POTD 19 September 2017
Music by Yakuro – ‘Through The Galaxy’ - Published on Mar 22, 2016
Copyright – Maria Williams and Winged Warrior – September 2017
My cat is a rescue me,
The abandonment of loneliness
He had his Forever Home promise
My love and affection were his.
See, he turns out to be,
Complete contentment we shared
Mutual grounds in battles, here
We did not care and laughed.
My cat was very special to me:
He was all that I had in this world.
He did love me a bunch, you see;
I loved him back even more
With this punch, I had shown.
He gave me a reason to live;
He started to grow and give
He greeted me every morning
He gave me his meow-to gear.
Until he was watered and fed;
He weighed twenty-five lbs
He was this big boy, instead!
As he was growing up:
I taught him to Box, indeed
Yes, you read that right, I say
I taught Mischief how to Box.
He would get up on his hind legs,
He gave a pawing jab
With his pawing punch
It is true he could Box.
Mischief grew over the years,
And we always had fun in tears
He had come to a spot in his life
It was our saddest one, we feared.
June 30th was the day;
Independence was here
He was playing around in the house
He lay under the air, basking him.
Then he came to the room,
He wanted to take a nap
Up in the window, he went
Not knowing it would be his last stint.
Then the next thing I knew,
He was dragging his legs
He cried with a bellowing pain in his voice
Mischief had a stroke that day.
In such a heartbreaking way,
For this cat to bear
I needed to relieve his pain.
I left him there for the night,
He was under sedation
I collapsed, walking away
He gave me such a fright.
July 1st came in,
He looked at me with a thirst
Then he kissed my hand, that he knew
And laid in my lap
We Loved Blue.
He wanted up to my shoulders,
Then give me this
One Lasting Hug
The vet had his cocktail treat waiting,
My Mischief Lotus,
Departs
Now He sleeps!
Oh, my heart aches for you;
Of the agonized pain he suffered
That bellowing, hurtful cry,
He is Free,
Now He Flys!
I know this grieving here will pass,
In its time indeed.
Rest In Peace,
My Lil Buddy
I Love You
One More Last Time!
"A tribute to the sorrow that brings us
the strength of undying love,
prevailing its light."
~ William Darnell Sr
R.I.P. Mischief Lotus Darnell
My love to you!
August 2017-July 2022