Long Wailings Poems
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the Pit of Hell
I had dream
a broken thoughts
Of strange nightmares
darkened my dark
Lighted by thick darkness
no rules no responsibility no order
beautified by darkness melody by wailings
Coloured by horrors,
horrors you have never never seen
In the fragility of my dreams
The last of hope is lost there
even the dead prefers the grave
in the grave is RIP
In the pit hell no peace is found
and calmness is noised by voices
Of wailing, weeping men
No corrections there ,no promotion
all insignias are melted all ranks ground
In the fragility of my dreams
all Pride is powdered
mixed with the fire to the boil
no recommendations ,no respect
no reprimands
No injury time ,no first half no second half
no penalties, no referees, no timing
the game keeps on playing, the ball keeps on rolling
rolling and never stopping~~~~~~~`~````~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~````~~~~~~~~
No day, no night no air,
no breath, yet no death~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
your enemies become your friends
no contention only one common goal
;Pains pains pains with hands like darks fangs
deepened down the brain emmmmmmmm~~~~~
The greatest mystery;
burns but never ashes
only strengthens
worms feed ease
death is sent parking
pain is the foundation
The cries of wailing men
like the roaring of millions
of lions
Be warned
Behold He cometh
In His wings of Glory!!!
I bubbled out my sleep
to remain whole again
In the fragility of my dreams
26/4/2020
“Remember that funny joke I played on Louise in college? “ Mouse asked me.
She was in full-blown laughter mode now. She had hiccups and tears when she finally almost stopped,
Mouse, my jokester friend, has been my best friend since we were 7, after I accidentally gave her a black eye by twisting her swing too tight when the teacher’s back was turned.
I love Mouse’s jokes, and I’m pretty sure this is going to be hysterical, so I cannot wait until she shares it.
“Louise was so mad at you,” Mouse said. “Boy, was she mad at YOU!”
Now, this I did remember as Louise and I were really great friends in college, and suddenly she stopped talking to me and refused to tell me why, breaking my heart.
I spent many nights sobbing to Mouse about it. Mouse, my college roommate kept telling me to stop because she could not sleep over my wailings. But I was heartbroken, because Louise and I had been really good friends, and now she preferred spending time with Mouse, not me.
“Why was she mad at me?” I asked Mouse. “Did she ever tell you?”
Mouse chuckled a few more times. “Remember how Louise was afraid of cats?”
I had to admit I never knew this.
“Well,” Mouse said, gulping for air as she tried to get it out just right. “I found a dead cat on the street, so I boxed it up and sent it through the mail to Kate.”
I was absolutely and utterly repulsed, horrified, and angry. “Why did she think it was me?” I asked her.
Mouse was looking at her covers now. “I may have told her it might have been you,” she admitted. “Boy was she mad!” Then she went off into gales of laughter.
I lost my “best” friend that day, but she was not left in the dark. I shared the why.
*Image of Pendulum by Pixabay.
Of Fatalism
'Tis past the eleventh hour,
As time ...,
Here in the bunker,
I walked away from the Atomic Clock whose pendulum terminated its sway,
Walked I, away from expressionless gazes of our hereafter,
Longings tethered to massive cement deterrents laden with steel rods that point every which way,
It encompasses us, hanging as fitting sheaths insulating our newly acquisitions -- swords of Damocles,
Each of us has someone whom we treasured still up there,
That would justify the emptiness I see,
They're benumbed by internal seething pain,
Tormented by their incapacities to help,
Haunted by incessant wailings,
And then, of course, the little ones,
Oh, my sweet Jesus!
What have I done, what have I done,
There were protection elements everywhere,
They were set up at every point,
Outside, beyond the perimeter,
Ubiquitously, near primary targets,
However, also, everywhere,
... was uncompromising resistance,
After the inevitable played out,
They, too, joined the vacant masses,
I guess that is how good old warriors just fade away,
A newly carped floor in the War Room where lies my rejected arguments,
it is under the dismissive course of action,
and that's shoved neath disappointing occurrences involving hypothetical possibilities,
How do I overcome these unforgivable mistakes and missed opportunities?
[He sees two-armed guards at their post]
He mumbles, "Coward!
Well, Mr. Speech Writer, since your first debate"
There is the disoriented,
the miss-connect,
the heartbroken
the lonely
and me,
I'm the one left holding a piece of thread,
Gentlemen,
Let them in,
for it is time for us to begin,
... Year One.
2022 August 08
The house looks so imposing and majestic from outside
With a wide yard and a porch surrounded by ornamental railings
It was situated on a hill with pine trees partly covering it from view,
Rumour runs, at night from there, people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
I was so eager to prove the irrationality of it.
One night I ascended the hill leading to that cosy mansion.
Close to the house but safely distant, I noticed a narrow pit.
Though I walked around, nothing seemed unusual about it.
When I was about to leave as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on, like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch.
I question myself
Every moment of every day
Am I worth anything?
Soul-crushing devotion
Does it exist for me?
Or am I just a piece of meat
To be fed upon by wild dogs?
To be torn apart
Until my carcass screams in agony
Disfigured and destitute—my soul
Pleads for a more rainbowed life
One that never existed
Ever for a girl like me
Oh how I wish I was shallow
Devoid of feeling
Numb to worldly wiles
But I feel the depths of the oceans
Of those between heaven and hell
Pandemonium and false paradise
Enveloped in my chest
Sinking in my despair
I long for a more kindred spirit
But are wilted flowers still fragrant
Once choked by senescence?
Loss of a childhood
And a sea of venom
Twenty two years gone gasping for air
But each year I sink a little further
Until all of me is extinct
I think I am being rescued
But they push me down a little more
They take a part of me
And leave me for dead
To drown with blood in my mouth
I am the writer of my own tombstone
One that lacks words
Speechless it will echo
But their deafness will ring louder
Drowning me once more
Carved into stone will be
The muted wailings of a woman harrowed
By teeth reckless and unforgiving
Topped with terra cotta- tiled roof
the house stood on a hill with pine trees,
partly covering it from view,
with its turrets opening like watchful eyes.
Rumor runs, at night from there,
people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
eager to prove the irrationality of it,
one night I ascended the hill,
leading to that cozy mansion.
As I paced faster and came closer,
the house looked so imposing
with a wide yard and a porch
surrounded by ornamental railings
with a winding driveway
lain with marble squares
and leading to the entrance
Close to the house but safely distant,
I noticed a narrow pit hidden among shrubs
Nothing was unusual about it.
I walked round and round.
Couldn’t see anything to rouse suspicion.
When I was about to leave,
as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging
from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on,
like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch
and soon shape shifted into a man.
Fancy or Fact, never looking back
I took to my heels as fast as I could.
A tale of pain.
A tale of regret.
Bundles of weeping.
Bundles of sorrow.
Cries of agony.
Cries of despair.
Death of Joy in autumn.
Death of hope in spring.
Wailing in the West.
Wailing in the East.
Tears of death at dusk.
Tears of death at noon.
Alas all hope is lost.
Alas not quite.
Upon my journey's in Rome.
Upon my heroics in Greece.
I fall short of words.
I fall short of courage.
The psalmist sang.
The salmon mocked.
Where at that pillar of strength.
Where at that gifted in all.
But wait, up in the mountains.
But wait, bellow the valley's.
I hear shouts of Joy among the Jews.
I hear wailings in Babylon.
The crier proclaims with Joy.
The crier sings in excitement.
"Here ye sons of Lucifer".
"Here ye daughters of Babylon".
"Grinch your teeth's in anger".
" Drown yourself's in regret".
Burn ye cursed of the Lord.
Perish you children of chaos.
For you had touched the anointed one's.
For you had slain his prophet's.
But rejoice son's of Israel.
But rejoice daughter of Zion.
The day of Judgement.
The day of rejoicing and merriment.
The day concentrated by the Lord has come.
"The Day Of The Lord" has come.
Let us celebrate
This is not time to denigrate
Nigerians rise and jubilate
Cause we are poised to rethink and meditate
Let us roll out the drums
This is not the time to keep mum
Let the air be filled with fun
To drown the wailings and guns
Democracy has come to stay in Nigeria history
Let us celebrate a hard- won victory
A milestone in the country's trajectory
Prophets of doom remain confounded and desultory
Nigeria the hope of the black race
Rise up and keep the pace
Exterminate corruption without trace
And give the country a new face
You are destined for Leadership
A rallying point for African Fellowship
Do not be deterred by the present hardship
From claiming your divine kingship
What gain is reaped in war's cruel strife?
What honor does it truly crown?
When lives young and old, precious, ripe,
Stooped, silenced—dreams torn down?
In ruins, wailings, someone sobbing,
Loved ones lie lifeless—tragic loss,
Wars waged by kings of greed,
Hungry political grues.
Dominion, power pursuit,
Wealth, pride, and prestige,
Autocracy, they boast,
Cost peaceful lives' carnage.
Selfishness—the color of their love,
Clad in strong political will,
Torn weak nations, they grabbed,
Incite wars for their fill,
From national pride to world command,
Hawkish kings seek domination,
Enslaving others, for their brand,
Expend others in desolation.
Their greed can never meet—
Satisfaction with material wealth,
God will come, their dreams are killed,
Judge their debt long unpaid.
Their arrogance, they dare claim,
To be gods, rulers of all,
But when God Himself returns, proclaims—
His kingdom on Earth will sum it all.
Patience prepares us for salvation,
Avenge the oppressed, grant their plea,
God, the only true God, and King of creation,
Settle the world's controversy.
last night i tried to sleep
but each time i went i failed
i heard the wailings of dead poets
who begged me tell their tales
their tales were very scary
i tried not to listen
but their pleas were very strong
i said, i'd listen on one condition
who could tell their story short
but make it very strong
who could rhyme with skillfulness
and not be very long
so i asked the poets
Please; just one at a time
and when you've finished your story
tell us who's next in line.
starting with you ms. carolyn devonshire
(tell us your tale and pass it along to some one who will answer within 24 hours. if they
don't answer; it's your responsibility to choose someone else. ) happy birthday carolyn.
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