Long Unqualified Poems
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I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race
One human race, one human race, one darn human race.
Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That suck out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the darn day.
Copyright © February 24, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
At one time my neighborhood was new mass-produced little boxes made of ticky-tacky – all looking just the same*
Beautiful affordable, true suburban models, in mid-twentieth century they were truly quite the rage.
But now the then-proud new homeowners have mostly moved to better places
While new ones gladly renovate these aging homes with new rooms and outer faces
When I walk down the street it’s easy to see many of these homes looked exactly like mine
at one time,
before they were distressed and foreclosed
It was a model community that boasted of its clean uniformity, sterility, and safety from those unqualified outside, distressed and forebode
Now it’s a bit grittier yet in my mind much prettier than a planned little row of little boxes where the kids all turn out the same.
It’s a mix of even and odd ones, making for a mix where none is truly plain.
Now the trees have grown so high, and despite the leaves and branches dropped I’m thankful for the breezes
I imagine there are dozens of Spots, Fluffies, and Socks in haphazard plots beneath them
Where beloved pets rest embraced by roots that still grow along with branches
that are strong and large, and now holding swings for another generation of kids and grandkids.
The yards are no longer so clean and shining green, but I focus on a long-gone vine
That left an imprint as it at one time crept up the wall outside my door,
and so artful its design
I want to keep it there forevermore.
I pass added studios for boarders, made from added rooms from added carports,
Basketball hoops at the street side, foot bridges over ditches for bikes, and newly added porches.
With new rooms, rooves, paint, and landscape
Nothing here a mere misuse of ticky-tacky tape.
Even those homes that still look the same outside for their original floor plan
If you go inside each you’ll see windows and walls removed and added
While the footprints are still here, new shoes have stepped in place
All from boots to bare feet to these homes have found their way.
So as I walk down the street,
At least I have a little hope right now
For despite how bleak the times may be,
At last I can believe everyone is allowed in Levittown – for now.
*Apologies to Malvina Reynolds, Little Boxes (1962)
And the red demons screamed aloud,
miseries and gories of a black scary death hurried by in the middle of the night.
My father's shrine quaked in pity,
My mother's excited wrapper loosed.
Cain hurried by for the blood and skull of his brother.
The Israelites defeated by Nigerians!
How could it be their bones scattered in the midst of Nigerian greens?
Drought. Hunger. Defeat. Death. Evil.
Death brought all eyes to the feasting table of mediocres.
Yet another feast for the deadly vultures,
Yet another testimony for the pit of hell.
For every righteous man labelled 666,
For the indigenous heaven' occupants.
Every children eyes shot horribly,
Mothers, basking their fears in the hands of death, madly.
The owls howled terribly torturing the sirenity of the cloud.
The lions tamed and goats wilder.
Darkened wind roared by,
Thick gummy substances of the lurking embryo of the night cried.
The wind stood, the stars wept.
The moon hallucinated.
Another destruction!
Another destruction!!
Christ watched at the corner of hell,
Satan seen standing at the gate of heaven.
Hell loosed! Demons freed!
Angels captivated mockingly in the
Voidness vodka of the horrored emptiness.
The minted red evil spirits shriek of laughter echoed in the bottomless pit, dark.void. gloomy. Saddened.
empty survivor's of royal Oak of vivid imagination darkened the unqualified agony lurking the painted firmament, advocating the peace of the world.
Blood shattered all around, skulls littered yonder.
The ant' eyes bugged with a lonely fierce myth along hell.
They sounded the trumpet without the knowledge of Christ.
They have tortured silence in heaven,
They have made war and war among nature, and humans will bear the consequences.
And every pillars are set loosed and the earth will wail soonest.
Woe, woe to the world for the dragon is set free.
The punctured silence flew into the world and humans groaned in fear.
Terrible strange agonies gripped humans.
And the angels waited on and on for the set time of another trumpet.
Darkness filled the earth and Christ is come.
And I raised my head to a new world from my nightmare,
These words are broken, I lost my mind scripting them.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
I play golf as much as I can
while still thinking of my fellow man
I haven’t figured out the economy
because it puzzles me
still no recovery with the things I’ve done
oh well what the hell
as long as you can see my good intentions an I tried
that is what is most important to me
I’ve been accused of telling lies
how you figured me out that is a surprise
all of my promises I make don’t come true
I count on ABC, CBS & NBC to protect and cover my ass
and help me fool all of you
my enemies claim that I and my administration
are corrupt with scandals through and through
I challenge any of you to prove your wild allegations it if you can good luck
millions of people are out of work
Republicans keep saying I’m a jerk
to many people were working anyway
now they have more time to play
thanks to me and my socialist policy
I'm not a Christian but I do pray to my god Allah everyday
America’s been the leader of the free world for too long
it’s time we sing a different song
leading from behind is the song I sing
taking America down a notch or two is my thing
is what I believe I need to do
the military is to strong I believe that is wrong
that’s why I apologize every chance I get
for America’s atrocities as I see fit
when I Barack Hussein Obama was elected president
I was very very much surprised
because I never ever did anything to pay my dues
I was so unqualified I still don’t understand
how I was able to fool all of you
some of my constituents say I'm a narcissist
that is true now so let me salute all of you with my middle finger
all of my perks are great and life style to
playing golf and basketball is what I love to do
while the worlds troubles are in chaos boohoo
flying around in a great big plane
and living in a big mansion that's insane
but my wife still loves to complain
and all the millions of dollars I am able to
hide away for a rainy day
all the people around me
tell me every day how great I am
playing at President is the job for me
you may now get on your knee to worship me
I believe I have become a King you may also kiss my Muslim ring
those of you who disagree with me
and decide to take a pass then you can all kiss my black ass
Written by Dennis Davis
June 16th 2014
I’m so unworthy, Lord
Your kindness showers my soul
With so many blessings, Lord…
I can always feel Your gentle love
Flowing across my heart, my dreams
Reminding me that You are here
With me, pouring out hope – abundant
Joy that, without You, is only imaginable
Never the wonder that abides
In the praises I feel on the inside
I’m so inadequate, Lord
Yet, you still love and assure me
You will always be available,
Silencing every cloud of doubt
Purifying my thoughts, my feelings
With a love that won’t be defeated
A love that is wise and warm
Sweeter than honey, coloring my heart
In hues of compassion, love everlasting
I’m so unqualified, Lord
To serve the One who gave me love
Love that I can never describe with words
Love so abundant it lights the whole world
With serenity and grace, stirring up faith
That guides and abides on the inside
Filling my entire life with meaning, desire
Anticipation of that enlightenment
That frees me and relieves me of all doubt
Silencing every fear – wiping away each tear
With love that fights the darkness
In hues of sincerity and insight – blessings
Rained down from the heavens
Abundant and alive – inspiring wonders
I’m nothing, dear Jesus…
But You still love me so completely
With a love that breathes motivation
Stimulation and creativeness
Into this heart who is so very thankful
Because You gave me a second chance
To be the daughter who knows You as…
Savior, Creator – love more powerful
Than any feeling or thought, so strong
The comprehension never lets you go
It always bestows gentle love, kind hope
Faith that believes beyond any hesitation
With a belief that has not one reservation
I’m nothing, beloved King…
Yet, with you, I am a daughter of royalty
Descendant of the King of Kings
Servant of the One who frees and relieves
The One who my heart is forever thankful to know
The One who makes my life delight and hope
The One who abides inside where I can grow
Closer than a brother, closer than a friend, closer
To the One who saved me from my sin!
Thank you, Jesus – For giving me this gift
Life everlasting – life that is blessed by You
The answer to my prayers – my pleas
For a love that lives on through eternity!
Described as “patriot of patriots” by Mahatma Gandhi
His Words, ‘Give me blood and I shall give you freedom’
Are still ringing in the minds of each and every Indian.
He stood for unqualified Freedom with the use of force
Meaning quite against with Gandhi’s non-violent ways.
Subhas Bose presumed to have died on 18 August 1945
On Taipei Airport in a plane crash but with no evidence.
The mystery of his death and survival haunts the Indians.
The inability of the three commissions to unravel the truth
Spawned umpteen conspiracy theories left people in awe.
First commission visited Japan in 1956 and got testimonies
From army surgeons conducting blood transfusion to Bose
But he succumbed to death on August 18, 1945, at Taipei.
Second commission carried its probe from 1974-78 and
Declared its inability to arrive on any definite conclusion.
The verdict of the third commission was quite amazing
It simply said Bose was dead, but didn’t die in plane crash
How and when? No answer in the absence of any proof.
Concluding report tabled in parliament in May 2006
Declaring that death was staged to facilitate his escape.
And there are lots of evidences showing that he was alive
The first being the soviet angle of Stalin and Molotov
Discussing as to whether Bose should remain in the country.
In 1991 a letter written by him found in the KGB archive
dated 1946 that he had safely reached the then Soviet Union.
And there are conspiracy theories abound on Bose’s death
Allegedly both the Congress leadership and the Government
Afraid of Bose’s possible return to India and his impact
None to stop him to come to power as worshipped by people.
He was posthumously awarded Bharat Ratna in 1992,
A highest civilian award but later withdrawn on the ground
As the Award committee failed to give evidence of his death.
Even the Taiwan Government confirmed of no plane accident
And U.S. Department of State supported the claim of Taiwan.
=====================================================
Second Place win:
Contest: Unsolved Mysteries by Carolyn Deveonshire
*Inspired and credits to the reports published on the web*
THE HUNGRY VOTERS.
At the moment like that one, no voter(s) can call(s) a spade not a spade,
Because the voted man has become the ‘I don’t care ruler’,
No listening, not even attentive to society hazardous,
But his busy selfishness makes things go astray,
Wonderful enough!
His last night television news said
‘our economy is rapidly growing from zero to hero’.
‘We don’t care’ the hungry voters said so,
when they met the civilized voted man who calls bribe ‘a thankful gift’.
But the ethical Doctor has written in his non existence book
‘Leaders are sick of ethical kwashiorkor,
unknown serious admitted patients,
ready to paints black the very white standing truth’.
(Hungry voters)
ran to the rock hill and raised their voice again
‘an empty stomach never stops to blows for gain’,
An empty stomach?
Yes,
the hungry voters still ask for fingers accountability and not hand cash.
These thin men with bright medulla oblongata,
firmly want their voted man to hates bribe and its allies,
and
not to sell the state estate for the consideration of a cursed coffee cup.
Beautiful song of public interest was sang,
by these old children while supported by old boys and girls,
who upkeeps the state interest first.
State emergency day was announced,
the voted man has surprised with these bright hungry men,
driving a bullet proof car to the rock hill
so as to meet his hungry voters,
But misdirected himself by promising unqualified promises to everyone,
that,
he will buy the gold comets to every voter,
so that hungry will dead and gone.
But they came to jail his lips when they said loudly
‘we are not hungry of food and water but we are hungry of justice, transparency and accountability’.
They still marched forward,
until when the voted man resigned hopelessly and left the state to the ‘Voters’ Man’.
Who started a big ethical revival and reformation to all who lead.
Nothing was good before because the state was stinking
as everything even roads,
rivers,
and trees were stinking bribe,
unrighteousness,
corruption, selfishness and all evils you know.
story blooming,
on the edge of a thought
struggling, incapable
unqualified, mostly vulnerable
to the midnight still
stars in pieces of sapphire
crisp and clean
dancing across the skies
remembering the love, alive
a fire on the inside
melancholic verses, visions
epiphanies in sighs
caressing the timeless notes
prayers on holy rhythms
blending with purple
symphonies,
revealing to the spirit
sweet intimacy
bold as the moon, who sees
everything
and still shines
in spite of the darkness
and its obscurity
in spite of the deafness
found beyond the wind
singing through the trees
limbs like grey fingers
reaching beyond the meaning
of darkness
to the promise of a dream
a heart, robbed
of its heartfelt
a heart, drowned
by the rivers of silence
feelings muted
by the colored breath
echo on the night
feeding the spirit
its eternal sight
whispering to me
of destinies, inviting
me to hear
the heartfelt who is still
like a river’s brow
beating against the banks
where laughing words
and deafened poems
pour from her waters
wet as dew
and just as true
she rises and reminds me
there is truth
in the winsome breath
a loved song,
stirred by the murmurs
streams of real
flowing from the hills,
rushing to remember
rustling like December
Christmas dreams
receding into the distant
heat, where the sturdy feet
of wind, singing free
guides the night on
through the weeks, eternity
rising in the spirit
eternity, with the One
who speaks
when everything we seek
is still, a quiet leaf
a silent stream
a still, cool grief
on and on, so weak
clinging to my soul
shy as a melody
her truth a peace
weeping
on the edges of a week
when she hurt
like the dry, stale seeds
who will never grow
infertility – menopausal
pieces of grief
darkness seeping through
to bite into the hues
of memories
turned blue, memories
of me and you.
Incarceration Through The Eyes Of Your Child
I dreamt about this particular iceberg for many year's
as a young man,
where in and out of prison I was, for a while.
It was big, big in size
If size was big, like only size could be, only in Florida.
Abandoned in it, to it a one man cell, placed in it by they.
Passing evil law's designed to keep the other
forty seven percent of U.S. all down.
Unable to get a job and or vote the corrupt made out of it.
Blue as it was,
as blue as the sky, such a big blue, like a marble blue
in the clearest of day's the bluest, blue some day's.
Hearing have I, heard some say to turn our blood into profit.
Polar bears and their mind set and their blood thirsty ways.
The staff unfit guards commuting thirty miles a day to have their republican
way.
Cell extractions in isolation where no widows are allowed to exist.
Justifying it all in claiming their need for control.
While urine stained walls conveyed what they sought.
To render individuals
from being able to function or being mentally stable.
Glacier blue eye's
where razor wire hides from the top what the bottom will do.
There are no black icebergs here they are all in prison.
The rationale by the cruel,
they reason away, that what doesn't kill you
will make you stronger.
This system, these people, know while they prey on the fear
of the uneducated ignorant people,
people that are unqualified to tender up our vote's.
Children to young, born to unfit parent's,
mental illness not caught early that is latter on triggered.
When people leave prison and after being traumatized
cannot function, seeing people raped and brutally murdered.
How can any reasonable individual expect them to function.
While you knowingly condoned and through your silence,
allowed their abuse to continue.
helped hurt them.
The psychology of your doom is now known to U.S. all.
HIDDEN AGENDA:
It's on record,
Stripping naked in a rainfall.
A prelim lost of freedom,
Heddled by a downfall,
Highlighted with boredom.
The journey is so wrong,
And the prelim wants to hold on.
His soul is crying 'oh Lord'.
Time to time feeling appalled.
The challenge seems so tough.
He wish his life is prolonged,
So he don't demise too young.
The mind is guilty at a cost,
Yes, the prelim is terribly at fault.
But the time is gradually passing out,
And still can't breakout,.
Pressurised by pals,
For him to join their camp,
Indeed he joined them at last.
Later he's realised it's bad,
After the wealth he has amassed,
Can't satisfy his life.
Sacrificed the one he loved,
Only to succeed easily and fast.
Now that the deal is done,
He don't feel so fine.
Surrounded by numerous restrictions,
Gradually getting him diminished.
Always saying he's been foolish.
Figuring out he will soon perish.
Non of his family benefits from his wealth,
As the family's state is not well.
No one understands that tale .
It's a secret that has failed,
Tagged with a notion,
Described as the paramount conclusion.
Surrounded by his cohorts,
Who are also in the same pot.
Hooks up loose ladies,
Uses and troubles them.
Plans carnally to chill at unqualified columns.
Gestures he shows, he ahem,
Anytime questioned about his solemn.
Since he showcases a stealth.
He acts strange,I can tell.
Even his own people,he can't gel.
And their insinuations about him can't be dispelled.
Never doubting words regarding his spell.
This perfidious act proves who he is,
Someone fastened to mortal sin.
Lost from good morals, backslidden.
He didn't get it forbidden.
Buried in devil's riches,
Fifty-fifty sooner die or go mad,
Traded a good soul for vanity, so sad.
Drastic move,Damning not a canard.
A reality to pick a lesson,administered.