Long Up in arms Poems
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...Then working with the government,
who always liked more western cash,
they set up an agreement that
they hoped could contain this backlash.
Two scientists could see the arc,
and work to verify its age,
one from Harvard, and one Cambridge,
and to Axum both made their way.
The American, an old man,
Professor Hammond was name,
the Brit was a young grad student,
named Alice, with a genius brain.
As they settled into their work
neither of the scholars could know
that in neighboring Somalia
an evil man plotted a blow.
He went by the name Ibrahim,
whether it was real, no one knew,
established as a terrorist,
an Islamist, quite tried and true.
He’d built a name in civil wars,
the kind that always racked that place,
made a reputation with force,
he left death, and people displaced.
And though the man gained followers,
he was frustrated by his land,
ruined and lacking resources,
Ibrahim was an ambitious man.
When he heard the arc had been found,
an idea grew up in his mind,
Christians and Jews worshipped the thing,
a route to more money he found.
He took with him one hundred men,
slipped the border, went to Axum,
keeping his people outside town
until shadows of nightfall had come.
Then they attacked St. Mary’s Church,
stormed the building with guns blazing,
killing priests, security guards,
anyone they found resisting.
Quickly they sieved the old relic,
took Alice, Hammond, and four priests,
hostages until they got paid,
at which point they {might" be released.
Chased by police they all fled east,
back into the Somali state,
where they hid amongst the chaos,
where all involved did celebrate.
A scheme pulled on the infidel,
they would now pay to arm their foe!
They had no choice, if they did not
then to hell their relic would go!
Ibrahim put out a message,
a video, as such types do,
demanding millions for the arc,
it was seen by more than a few.
And there was a bunch of chatter,
amongst talking heads on TV,
talking of how such a relic
just found, could soon be history.
Religious types the world over
spoke of how it would be a crime
if such a thing would be destroyed,
the loss of a wonderous find.
All knew some action would come soon,
too many folks were up in arms,
talk of commandos, and or raids,
to Ibrahim it raised alarms...
CONTINUES IN PART III.
It was a time of great and exalting excitement,
Until the country was again up in arms and agitation.
The war was on,
Indeed tough and elusive,
Era has made it way;
The melody of birds singing in the trees,
Had been converted to the rhymes of guns and violence.
Faces begun wet,
Flooded with river of pains and sorrows,
Sleep departed the eyes.
The state of peace became an alien,
Hunger and thirst inherited the land of milk and honey.
Liberia had lost herself.
The early morning of December 24, 1989;
She felt the weight of the flight of foe,
The toy pistols popping,
The bunched firecrackers hissing and,
Sputtering her air, dislocating her peaceful citizens.
After many weeks of persecution and starvation,
Thousands of her citizens were found dead,
Thousands flee in to exile,
Thousands made rebels of which,
Hundreds were child soldiers.
Their ways were watered with tears.
The land was stained with the blood,
Of the wounded feet and dead body,
Of family and love ones.
Creeks and rivers were colored,
In the blood of the innocent,
And pregnant women.
On and on it continued;
Until a large group of citizens of growing eyes,
And bleeding heart,
Tired of tumor,
Gathered at the American Embassy,
Headed by great and devoted men women of God.
Together made request and supplications,
To God above.
Spoken and unspoken.
Together they said:
Oh! Lord our father, the protector of our land,
And flag.
We have witnessed our love ones lost lives,
Raped and fleet to exile.
Our hopes blasted, our lives blighted.
Help us survive,
Help our land find peace,
Let our blood not be waisted.
Let hunger and thirst disconnect us.
Pains and sorrows flooded with the remedy of peace,
For our sake, who adore thee O Lord,
Blast the hopes of our enemies,
Make heavy and slippery their steps,
Water their path with self tears.
Bless the arms of those fighting on our behalf,
Bless every foreign aid,
Long live mama Liberia.
We asked it,
In the spirit of love,
Of Him, who's the source of love.
So dearly we pray seeking your aid with humble and
Contrite hearts.
Together they said:
Amen!!!
Oh! Lord,
Our God, we thank you for mama Liberia.
I heard you talk with your girlfriends
over mai tais the other day,
I heard clearly from the kitchen
the sorts of things you had to say.
You said good things about me, yes,
but then you started to complain,
and talked about all of the things
that you say you’re going to ‘change.’
You don’t like that I own some guns,
or that I sometimes watch NASCAR,
that I will not vote for lefties,
and prefer trucks to tiny cars.
You don’t like that I think Broadway
is a torture to be endured,
and you think that your influence
will somehow make me ‘more cultured.’
As if the things that I enjoy
somehow will leave you demeaned?
You even said that,”He’s so close
to being the man of my dreams!”
And when I brought it up later
you didn’t seem to understand,
said,”But babe, why wouldn’t you want
to grow into a better man?”
You got mad when I pointed out
the truth of the words you had said,
that it meant you didn’t really love
the man that you lay with in bed.
You love a hypothetical,
and not the person that you have,
that I’m somehow not good enough,
and that your presence is a salve.
Now imagine the reaction if
I went and said those word to you?
You’d be furious, up in arms,
the whole internet would be too.
To think that a man could somehow
demand a woman become more,
we’d have psychotic feminazis
come and explode right thought our doors!
Yet when women want to ‘change a man’
we just nod our heads and smile?
You such double-standards just
leave most men feeling defiled.
I don’t love you for what you will be,
No, I love you for what you are.
I don’t pretend I can ‘fix you,’
treat the imperfections and scars.
So I will be what I must be,
and I will like what makes me glad,
even if that involves some things
that you don’t get, or think are bad.
The vision you have in your head
is a dream and will remain so,
such ‘perfection’ is fantasy,
and that should not come as a blow.
I’m a partner, no a project,
so please accept this if you can,
I can’t be the man you dream of,
only the best of what I am.
Last time it rained was in April.
It did not rain that much,
but it was enough to dirty everywhere.
You see, it was a south easterly wind
and the clouds arrived laden with sand from the north African desert.
That was nearly five months ago, and the farmers are already up in arms,
bemoaning lack of water as they till the arid soil.
dust flies in the air
the sun blazes overhead
sweat drips profusely
Prayers have not gone unanswered!
Dark clouds creep from behind the hills
fast multiplying, ominously, obliterating the blue.
The calm hot air is ruffled by a timid breeze which soon turns
to gusty wind. A sudden horizontal flash followed by drawling thunder
precedes a few big drops of rain which testily hit the ground.
increase of tempo
deafening cymbals clash
erupting deluge
Water gathers then flows steadily down the streets;
thirsty fields drink greedily; trees bathe in delight, relishing
heaven’s kiss of life on their moribund leaves, roots breathing in relief.
Then, worn out, the wind slowly abates; so do the thunder and the rain.
The clouds shyly disperse, permitting an unobstructed view of the sky above.
Satiated, the sundrenched land savours the afterglow.
sensual appeal
petrichor emanation
veins pleasantly throb
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Rain Rain Come My Way
Sponsor: binibining P.iNk
8th June 2016
Vape Puffing On
The verdict or rather, the decision has been made…
Concerned Malaysians, sit up and take good heed..
The higher authorities has decreed that vape puffing is ok…
After all the publicity over its growing popularity, it is here to stay…
After all that smoke and fire, hooha and publicity about the need for control…
For many a concerned citizen, this new addiction is bound to get out of control..
All those involved in this new craze which is the latest lucrative enterprise….
They are all feeling jubilant and the business ones are feel energized…
The vape smokers are ecstatic they get to continue their new habit in peace…
Comes as no surprise there will be many new converts to this habit with ease…
Never mind more kids as young as 12 are getting into this habit…
Who bothers teachers are up in arms over children into this habit…
Never mind vape puffing was in truth a dignified way to cut down smoking addiction…
Who remembers this is a gentle way to wean hardcore smokers from nicotine addiction..
Some families are incorporating vape puffing as part of their daily lifestyle…
Like having the latest smart handphone in hand as a symbol of living it up in style….
Having a son or daughter puffing vapour and having aromatic smells in the home…
Well, what is your gripe? The Health Ministry has already given its ok to vape….
Here, would you like to try? Here I have this latest flavor, its aroma is something else…
Don’t be shy, nothing to worry, this vapour liquid is not poisonous and free from nicotine..…
A word of caution, before you take that sniff with that new fangled contraption…
How can you tell that vape liquid is safe indeed, unadulterated and drug free for certain..?
birth, devotion, how i feel, little sister, mirror, mother, together,
Who do you think I am - Poetry Contest
Birthed special as twins
From a shared womb
We were made to feel special!
My twin was first to let go
She broke our love knot
Hurrying to her new freedom!
She waited for me crying
Until I was laid alongside her
In an identical pink warming blanket!
It was my turn to be crying now
Her abandoned cry made silent
Knowing I was with her there!
Inseparables we grew to become as before
Our new home was very 'safe' for two
Twins were to be an indulged oddity then!
So alike and special side by side
We were coveted and blessed
These babies who came from one womb!
We were cherished and adored
Always up in arms side by side
And fed together with spoonfuls of love!
Our sibling sister did follow soon
But shared her blankets alone
She was ‘loved’ for being only one!
We thought her an intruder
She was the star, sun and moon
And selfishly pocket our time-shares!
We needn’t have walked as early as her
We were up 'in arms' for show and tell
And only spoke in our secret tongues!
We were still twins but so spoiled
She walked and talked much earlier
And she was quick to spark on her own!
She learnt survival tools to get on with life
Our security was faulted built out of smoke
Dissipating at its now 'mired' core!
We were on our own and naked
Our identity apart was thin
Time came to us late in hard knocks!
A twin is only birthed as one
Apart and special on its own
Each born to make its own identity!
Twins will be together after death
When their love knot again is twined
And two twinned hands clasp once more!
Is Donald Trump a saint or a sinner?
This question hangs
in bars and in corridors of power
This man, Trump, is habitually torn to shreds, by political editors representing the opposition, while some
people point out the country was in good shape under
Trump's leadership and middle America applauds
Donald, let's see him as a golf-playing human is criticized for his tie, which appears too long, he is also obese, he was but is not obese anymore.
The daftest accusation is that Donald doesn't drink, which should be an example for all politicians, did they think a Donald- drunk, like Yeltsin but funnier.
When the intellectual class and the Washington elite are
up in arms over our Donald, it is time to ask what the ordinary workers and the small shopkeepers think about
him; to the elite group( those who drink French red wine for lunch) surprise Donald, the man, who is admired.
Yes, the people of middle America, the flyover states
who supply the army with soldiers to wars called to free
the local of the wrong tyrant, who will be replaced with one they say is a true friend of democracy
They are the people badly informed by the mass media
endlessly lied to; Donald enters and tells his audience the untarnished truth, and the wind of hope sweeps over
Minnesota, Idaho, Indiana, and Kansas, at last, a man who cuts through the waddle in Washington and cuts to the chase. They are the people Hilary Clinton, called
the deplorable, well, they are back and bit her ****.
I don't think Donald Trump will win, the black cabal of Washington will see to that.
If something good has to come out of this sorry saga it must be not to take people for granted.
When iconic lines in classic
movies have been changed
And our world feels a bit
upside down and rearranged,
When all you thought you knew
seems wrong in memory,
The stars have moved to places
where they shouldn't be,
When you look for certain things
you can no longer find
"I don't think we're in Kansas
anymore, Toto" comes to mind.
The lion's become a 'wolf' laying
down with the lamb (in the Good Book)
You don't need to believe me,
with your own eyes (have a look)
This is what happens when CERN
messes with our Time lines
Even our names can be changed
in what reality defines.
Sally Fields became Sally Field,
now just how can that be?
Nelson Mandela effects can
change ev'ry possibility.
Mirror, mirror is now
magic mirror on the wall...
But it doesn't seem to bother
some of you at all.
Well I am up in arms at all
the changes being made.
Soon, from our minds, the
original words will just fade.
Land masses can move, and
some islands can disappear
They have changed on all the
maps, and that's quite clear.
Your memory has not failed you
as you might believe
We must stop CERN now or
regret the wrath they'll achieve.
© Connie Marcum Wong
I know Curious George had a tail because my kids
used to love his adventures. His tail is completely missing now.
The 'lion' and the lamb has been changed to a 'wolf' in Isaiah 11:6
King James Version (KJV) and in NIV...all versions I found
along with many other disturbing changes to other scriptures.
I believe there have been something like twelve thousand changes
(don't quote me on the exact amount). Check out the
"Mandela Effects on google
A dash from the door,
and i felt my heart throbbing.
Your occurrence definitely,
meant the worst to happen.
I never knew what i could have done,
to experience your cruelty.
When i only needed a papa,
to love me like his only daughter.
your yells bloody murder,
shook the whole neighborhood,
spreading smacks and hacks,
up in arms for no reason.
Made scrub the whole dwelling,
as if i was a house help,
or a bustard from the shanties
who was an intruder to your whole being
"For the love of money,
is the root of all evil".
To no doubt,the video of the proverb,
was loading in front of me.
That money is thicker than blood,
And i can go to hell for all you cared.
I wondered why?
The olden poor days,
why they did flew away.
Then it was simple and joyous,
Although it was hard to get all,
i could see your struggle,
i could see your care and anxiety,
to my well being,
Now i find it hard to plaster,
A smile to my face.
You told me,
Education was the key to a better future.
And when blessed with required resources,
You were going to offer me,
Your promises bored no fruit,
I only see your hatred and anger towards me.
From a lovely daughter,
Now you attract my attention,
Via a little devil.
From a joyous girl,
Now am always mourning.
From this deep sleep you put me in,
keep me wondering,
to where my earlier papa went?
All and all,
I could not forget the virtues,
you taught me,
Safely i saved like a print in my mind,
To always pray and have faith in God.
To believe in what we do not see,
And like a 'pap',
my best papa in the world was there.
Together yawning from the long deep slumber.
Janet Muthoni
11-27-2012
BOX OF CHOCOLATES
My heart aches for those who vanish —
a variety like chocolates, melting
into vanquished existence.
First and farewell - those lucky
who have died, without having
their names besmirched —
the young and old, the hospitable
and the sweet character of a spinning
song, twirling on a record player
charming like a little girl’s dress
spreading with happiness. But
others leave us up in arms
they tug and pull, like Cinderella’s
stepsisters, leaving our lives
in tatterdemalion squalor.
Some vacate seats in our pews,
we feel their smiles floating,
fleeting and their hugs — incomplete.
Our workplaces like a revolving door
bringing in presents, leaving with bows
and my heart bobs near the shore.
Often it is the way people let us down,
chasing away the way we want things to be,
leaving us with a sore muscle, entangled
in hopeless chains, with slender fingers
reaching for the wispy-mist of life and love —
and endless raging river of serrated waves.
So long and farewell but know this, I
for one miss...you and you and you
for somewhere lies a perfect life,
with golden names and trellises, pearls
like lampposts, vivid-red apples, a
fairytale come true in degrees of hue.
A box of chocolates, recaptured, brought to
holy knees — taught by God to be friends
of a lasting succulent kind where death’s door
can never open or close, roses kiss our lips,
lovely robes touch or hearts, and hallelujahs
with wings perpetually pump agape life into our lungs.
12/26/2017