Long Warlords Poems
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O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
Can't help but to recall this famous quote from Sir Walter Scott...
When one reads the latest revelations on the financial scandal that is 1MDB...
Touted as a sovereign fund to help the economy of the Malaysian Nation...
What has been revealed so far is a tangled web of deception for the nation...
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
At the onset of of the saga of 1MDB, it was a sovereign fund entity....
It sourced for billions and billions in cash money for seed capital initially....
Taking out monstrous loans using guarantees from the government...
No red flags were raised, despite reservations from the management...
When the numero uno signatory is the Finance Minister himself...
And it being so he is also the Prime Minister, who is to question...
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
The wheels of international justice are turning, investigations are revealing..
Convoluted money trails of obscenely huge amounts to the tune of billions..
From Singapore to Switzerland to Luxemburg to Australia to the United States..
And a couple of other countries with highly principled banking standards...
Are seeking to unravel the this global money scandal with the highest stakes..
Wall Street Journal expose is churning out scandalous information of the investigations..
While in the home country of Malaysia, political warlords brush off all revelations..
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
A single plea of innocence was well propped up with tales of donation...
As gifted from individual or individuals, ultimately from a dead Arabian King..
Stalwart political warlords were nevertheless resolute in defending...
As a much tainted political leader wisely maintains a eloquent silence...
Even as political foes and the knowing public cry out their frustrations...
Horrified and anxious over the repercussions from this 1MDB financial cancer..
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-buck-passes-on-to-malaysian.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/leaks-show-how-bank-used-by-1mdb-jho.html
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.my/2016/05/1mdb-wonderland-saga.html
POETS ARE POOR
Omawumi birthed venom yesterday
She won't marry me again because
I am a poet, she said poets are poor
Is my pen not worthy to buy her make up?
If poetry gives no money I will still be one.
When the arrow of folly is carved
Wisdom back off to the gallaxy of stars
Poetry can't be broken easily like sticks
Poets live beyond the rivers of warlords
Poverty is not in the secret of lexicon of poets.
Mother sent me out of the house
Because I told her I want to be a poet,
She cursed my generation to come
Then wrote a note to my future never
to favour me in my desperate journey.
When the eyes of stupidity is begotten,
When the mouth stand taller than the nose,
When the scent of a madman becomes pleasant,
Check the nose that picks the aroma well
Poets are the million airplanes in the sky.
"Poets are poor" my teacher screamed at me
"Can't you be a doctor or lawyer than a poet?
You will sing without song in your mouth soon,
There won't be bread on your table to eat
And you will measure yam before you eat it"
Let the perceptive of a saint be kept,
Musical artistes are not idols to worship
I can also be praised in my own corner
Please your eyes with your sinful thought
Poets are the lust in the eyes of the saints.
"How many houses do Wole Soyinka have?
How much does Chinua Achebe have?
You will just die and perish without worth,
Nothing but a bitter tears and sorrowful blood"
My sister barked at me this morning!
It is not my tale to tell of a house and money!
Not my business to know those in their covens
All fingers are not the same as all men are not
My tomorrow have been written favourably,
I only water it through the idea of the gods.
"Go get a life, poets are sick with words!
Poets are poor! Poetry is no treasure to keep
Go and join Ekene in his business at Onitsha
That would keep bread on your table not poetry"
Father buttered my ears last breeding night.
What is my business with business
Poetry will keep food on my table soon
Poor poets are not my cup of tea to drink
Everyone have a different mindset and vision
Soon, poetry will be commercialized and we earn
Much more than Dangote and Mike Adenuga.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Mankinds actions are motivated by status or money,
we're not hunter gatherers that kill in this society,
people take chances on advantageous circumstances,
grab it in a glance through vantage and see advances.
Call it selfish or intelligent but these ways are relevant,
the powerful elevate through the system,
others don't and fall down becoming the equivalent
of a pet rock, alienated victims.
The thing to remember is a lot of our knowledge is theory,
some can be proven but most can't be,
theories with unavoidable flaws are theories less likely,
but still believed as fact, by many, not me.
In history nearly all were uneducated, mankind has never had a clue,
this allowed stories to spread and in time they became "true",
through their age, tradition, or heritage now still believed by quite a few,
motive created these stories and with time their strength grew.
1% believers ignorant to basic mathematics,
Lucifer, and religious believers tell tales most emphatic,
theories with flaws yet people devote to this septic,
but all these ideas are man made as a tactic.
Fear equals control,
control equals possessions,
possessions equal wealth,
wealth equals status,
status means power,
and power makes mean,
some call this status "elite".
As in untouchable, above all and living the dream,
historically an elite there definitely has been,
Emperors, warlords and Kings and Queens,
now mostly dissolved the elite can't be seen.
The pyramid structure or the leader of the pack,
humans live in a way that sees layers stack,
the elite lead the way and we all follow through,
their greed and selfish power actually benefits you.
So maybe that's why ignorance is our natural fashion,
things we've no idea of we tend to believe with passion,
but we are told knowledge the same as those in the old days,
stories, theories or ideas, taught and accepted in the same ways.
Ignorance is the balance to curiosity,
unlike the cat, we climbed out the tree,
curious enough to leave the caves,
these two the key and lock to how we behave.
This poem is full of ignorance, I do as we do,
I could be right, truth is, I havent got a clue.
Living in dark days
of the last generation of Noah
Evil beast animals now rule the Earth
Peaceful human beings
are perpetual moving ark targets
In constant danger from the archers’ grip,
the meek souls pray always to God
that the deadly, hunter bullet arrows miss
Walking by faith
in the Land of the Gun ...
the vast American wasteland
Death metal warlords rule
in the desolate Land of the Gun
Pale shoguns
got the last peace rebels
on the run
Running from the violence
High lead mortality false profit driven,
the dry ground is flooded
with innocent blood corruption
Leaving morgue debris of souls bereaved
Constant siren wails
follow the fallen bodies on the
smoking barrel trail
Some say we’re living in a technological hell,
others believe in the cursed power
of never-ending, multiplying weapon sales
Trafficking on a perfidious path;
allured to the firing, silencer sound
of the damning, fiery chiming brimstone bell
Carved handles, death laden metal idols
bolster ammo-filled holster security
On scarlet satin beds of gunpowder pyre,
sleepers crypt rest with “No Trespass” ease
While wicked watchers lust for more,
as they voyeur revel in the exit wound bleed
Still, a remnant walk by faith
in the Land of the Gun
A chosen few peace outlaws
on a divine run
Running from the ceaseless violence
Seeking higher ground
from the blood flood below
Bearing witness of so much sorrow;
orphan tears flow
from closed coffin eyes
of weeping widows
These be the last dark days of Noah,
violence fills the Earth with a flood
And the levee broke in the Land of the Gun,
where fear moved
in the twilight direction of the falling sun
Oh, so much violence in the Land of the Gun,
the Wild West badlands
Where blood justice is dispensed,
executed by bullet judge and jury Americans
But the brave peace rebels
seek safe refuge,
by following the lowering path of the Son
Soon to be Resurrection rainbow returning
on the horizon —
Once the heavenly trump blow;
and the overcoming cleansing flow,
letting the Water of Life run ...
Washing away forever
the final end time Reign of the Gun
Object to crave
hands off me
i find myself
looking at the keys in the stars in my space
warlords of times of slavery
tortured innocents
never ending labour for underpaid children
smelling burnt flesh
because someone taught her how to swim
he came
we forgot
we are not fooled again
early bird gets the worm
7am red balloons on free sucker day
not my fault you slept through ypur own surprise holiday
from the outside in
the mess and the twins
wasnt me it was him
then it was us it was them
then look what they did to eachother
sinnersd and saints
same blame game parade
hands clean holding a spade
burrying the evidence
and were all on the train
ladies and gentleman theres a cow on the tracks
there is going to be a slight delay
the trains got guardrails now
soo everybody drink
christmas is saved
but the cows name is jesus
cant stop the train
so im gettin drunk
looks better on paper
thank goodness for the words of the wise
the only truth i can hold onto
is this world hasn't admitted to one of its mistakes
or the fact its addicted to its own dose of lies
and before i teach you how to prepare for your last supper of judgement day
heres the perfect lie
to cheat your way through the exams of the after life
artsy fartsy smarty pants party
buying and trading stocks of barbies
free trade economy
feeding the starving
pictures inspired for mouth to mouth
and split second life saving situational ironies
I'll pay for you eat
eat together all for one day
it might take three days to get the feast going
and when its set up
send mwe the bill
and then blam partys over
god is retiring
and just as predicted
freed the slaves from the wars
to free the burning victoms
of those being tortured
and now no one knows
just wars iof our fathers
wars of our fathers
alice whos is alice?
what was wonderland really about?
wasnt me
it was you
it was us
it was them
on and on
blame game campaign
seperating boys from the men
the shipmate made capttain
mutinised the island
sold the ship and robbed the bank
so now whose laughing
Form:
"PreOccupation"
spiced
cut up poetry
divides
numbers
intentional
drivel moved
to the side
on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up
a much loved
addiction
novel and short
Pre Occupation
of all the glossy
shrouded shrouds
minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed
the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls
blow it all
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up
gladiator
brides
are us
sucking it
all up
like sweet custard
vampire voices
puck shot
through goal posts
cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not
baptised virtuous
scrabbled
war torn pilgrims
the lecherous
with nothing
better to do
watch all
bride defectors
sign language
look into the mirror
your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers
all wisened
move through,
or move
through not
they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away
Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost
buried, wearing
their shrouds
poetry in lines
black and white
cut up neatly
divided
on a blank page
the sucked up
read all the
time wasted
lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be
merry
“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors
In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops
Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths
Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”
...
"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
Destiny demands that we be the debtor
that we sacrafice for the skin of our future,
We left the cradle of the Caucasuses to explore,
to plant the dreams of our Creator,
venturing into the virgin chaos
where the tiger tears apart the trespasser
We made the way, we made love with our Cause,
following the highway of the emerald pasture
from the Euxine to the shimmer of the Yellow Sea
finding war and wealth in the weight of adventure
subduing savages with frightening ferocity
managing frontiers with a proud mercy,
leaving behind our blood's legacy
trading safety for salt, vanity for victory,
Trading safety for salt, vanity for victory
coming home to the Black Sea
introducing steel smelting and a taste for head hunting,
scalping Cimmerians with glee
assailing the Assyrians
extorting Egyptians
respected by Hellenes
dominating Asiatic Indians
cabletowing Celts
and pouncing on Persians,
Phoenicians filled their boats
with exotic Scythian goods,
We were collectors of civilised throats,
our empire needs no roads
Our empire needs no roads,
Saka, Sauromatae, Massagatae, Tocharians, Scythians
We are One, ancient craftsmen and warlords,
our women were the Amazons
Cauterized breast and soldier slayers
Tomyris taught Cyrus
that bloodbaths belong to the losers,
the Scythian wilderness of war jeered Darius,
Zopyrion was made carrion
Alexander wisely just carried on,
to the Romans we were Sarmatian and Hun
Scythes being ancestors to the Gothic Confederation,
a culture canvassing the breadth of all civilization
migrating ever westward into the echo of the sun,
Migrating ever westward into the echo of the sun
bringing our wagons, warcraft, and women
custom of the blood oath quietly open
the wine, and honest blood spun
the two of us swearing in between a lifelong stare
will you be there
when I'm scared,
will you care
when death is there,
will you wait for me
when the war barks near,
will you honor me
when the fire becomes just a whisper,
our oath is our soul keeping
J.A.B. 2020
Only read this if you have a good understanding of the English language, because it is all about how word spellings differ but for no particular reason.
This write is quite right in that it highlights the height and weight of the great language of English which is no sandwich and not straight forward mate.
(This right is qite wright in that it highlites the hight and waight of the greight langwich of English witch is no sanduage and not strate forward meight.)
We now know that "K" has special powers but not with knot or knock.
(We now K-now that "k" has special powers but not with not or nock.)
And people say Nike-y but they don't ride a bikey, so it's Nike like Mike.
(and people say Nikey but they don't ride a bikey, so it's NIKe LIKE MIKE, or mic.)
While they're unable to get their head around there,
they sit in a chair and stare like a bear, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where near, but like fare which is also like bare.
(While there unable to get they're head around their,
they sit in a chere and stair like a bere, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where nare, but like fair which is also bere.)
Far away cars on Mars are not said like wars, which for sure is more like bore and I'm assured that board is different to ward.
Warlords have been found to have had people drowned, not dround as it could sound, as the power of their throne has grown to fit their waist and they do not waste their God placed authority or make the mistake that the steak with cheese one grates quakes.
On the whole my soul is on a roll to score a goal with this write, because though words are spelt a different way they are spelt the same when these words we say.
I think I'm done and I've won like the Holy Son, or am shining wholly like the light from the sun.
And to think I had special needs, was labelled dyslexic and had ADHD, oh and as well as that I failed my English exam, twice.
Form:
You hear voices in the bar room, making merry, making a toast
They have offices and homes, but here is where they laugh most
Men from all walks of life, united under the banner of strong drinks
Here you can be yourself without caring what the world thinks
When God made the world and everything in it
He knew without alcohol it would not be complete
He gave birds wings, and waved them as they flew
Then he gave men, the knowledge to brew
Men have conquered the world drunk on spirits and wines
Drinking men have grabbed pens and drawn crooked lines
Dividing the world into nations, printing it on fancy maps
The borders are crooked because warlords were drunk, perhaps!
Poor men and beggars have known what it feels to be kings
When they drink, they get drunk, and poverty no longer stings
Unmarried women and maids know what it feels to be a lady
When they drink, they are beautiful, for they can’t hold the mirror steady
If God had made man out of clay and wine instead of blood
He would never have had to send mankind the great flood
Men would have obeyed his word and Noah would not have built the ark
Wine is good for the heart; no one would ever die of a heart attack
Or if God had filled the oceans with wine instead of water
The world would be a place of great and endless laughter
Men walking around with jars full of wine and hearts full of love
Singing songs on sailing boats, no landlords and oil barons to serve.
Now here we live, a world where they trade the wines and spirits
Chemically induced, cleverly marketed, to bring in more digits
Still we flock to bars and liquor shops, if our time and money can afford
To partake this strong drink, in pursue of happiness that is fraud.
Has it caused more harm than good, the alcoholic beverage?
Are there more accidents, than men with forgotten rage?
When they drink, they may not be socially coherent
But they are happy, so alcohol must be God sent
Warlords love the crack cackling sound ...
faint vapors smelled worldwide,
when twine toking on the choking peace pipe
Lying lips huffing and puffing,
blowing smoke out the barrel rear end
Frontal sphincter holes
open and close ...
Pre-negotiated spoils fanning the wind
Rub two cancer sticks together,
to start a third global forest fire blazing
Twin Smoky Bear false witnesses,
like Pilate and Herod —
Duo hardcore sworn enemies
becoming so Maryjane best bud friends
Truth is a menthol breakdown,
a Kool summer breeze on a hot, Camel caravan night
Warning of mirage oasis whisperings
filling the Death Valley desert air with nuclear fright
Warlords love doing the iron lung Scorpion crawl,
passing the slim peace pipe inside of the toilet stall
Flushing nicotine hope down the porcelain drain;
huffing and puffing,
with covetous tar face delight
Singing with ember glee in the Inferno dire reign
Smoking jacket pleasure
fills talky polluted atmosphere
with syrupy cough pain
Paranoia beyond measure,
empties womb palpitating fear:
Tick tick puffer insane
Warlords love the milk poppy urn sound,
silent nods heard worldwide ...
when dumping vow ashes from the peace pipe
Truth is a menthol breakdown,
a Marlboro spring breeze on a cold, Salem witch night
Warning of hibernating pyre whisperings
filling the Negev autumn air with nuclear winter fright
Warlords love the crack cackling sound ...
vaporized air felt worldwide,
when chain toking on the cranium choking peace pipe
Lying lips huffing and puffing,
blowing idol smoke out the gunny shark rear end
Sphincter jaw Pinocchio nose
open and close ...
Fungi ‘shroom spittle spores make the sky darken
Warlords love the crystal meth blurb sound,
LSD plan heard dark web worldwide ...
Life-Stopping Detonations
be brimstone smoke coming from a broken peace pipe