Long Warlords Poems
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(for: those who fell on the hills of Liberia)
I hear a song from my hills
I hear it sound from afar;
And towards my homestead
Near those aging banks of the Niger
I feel the disturbing songs
Of drummers announcing with cannons
The ravages of Monrovia
Like ancestral funeral men
But these drummers are different:
A shadow of their ancestors?
Is it something beautiful
For Doe’s ever-haunted soul
That Sulima should breathe of
Blood-fouled air?
Does it touch the heart of Taylor
That St. Paul’s river should mirror
The dying souls of pregnant mothers
On forced premature delivery mats?
The guns are eating
New diets in broken skulls
Everywhere!
And all my kins
Are traded for the mean
Prosperity of war
The smell of their black blood
Slapping the face of our dignity:
And does this dunghill of skulls
Touch on the human side of Johnson
And those other warlords?
How long would the orphan’s bones crack?
When would a man walk freely
Across the streets?
Tell us! you noble warriors, tell us:
When the guns would stop singing;
When would fear stop celebrating?
Here as I sit in my hut
Fully fed-up with homicide news
Of thousands and countless of my kins
Dragged into early and tombless deaths
I dreamt of slow-walking hunger
Load-bend of the souls of my kins
Like ants in a dry season:
Would you tell me the number
Of black skulls cracked
On the top of every hill?
Tell me the quantity of black blood
Spilled each day along those currents
Of Mao and Sherbro rivers
And the quantity of children’s bones
And ribs ript open near Monrovia:
Would you be brave enough
To tell these and more atrocities
To the deaf ears of the world,
O! strongmen of noble Liberia?
Form:
O Self Righteous Mew Martyred Lost
unto
Dragons breath, and roasted lots
amongst the spit and gradually heated pots
crows, counted among the cost,
counting zeros,
onesies and Aftermath of Astral Thoths
Line by line
into perdition we go deeper into the plot of plots
Into
Penitance, no
Penance, yes
Lusts succulent-grows
In laboratory tests
We
Like Moths to a drain
Of
Energy unsleeved
Perceived
Of misconceived pipings; insane; synergy;
creams never veined
Of suave salves, dealings of those
that have only vain, not the have nots but
half wicked flames
Unwritten names
half hooved of Baphomet and the
Long-Toothed of his stage and scream
The storm born, we shall ride
that dark ride
In the precipitation of filth,
catching mud in our eye
Rebirthed, stalled, aborted by skanky sway,
of breastly milk
of I am soaked wet in a dream
Of the Worlds reasonings why Apathy and Pride
are foolish runway brides
of souls Holiday-Window faux scene;
dressing-undressing after the honeymoon
of ignorance, arrogance blessing
Design upon design our Statement of Mission creep O Ord
Ordinance
O Self Righteous Mew Martyred Lost
unto
Dragons breath, and roasted sheeps,
crows, counted among the cost,
counting Warlords, drones left with money packed.
helicopters and jeeps
onesies and Aftermath of Astral Thoths
To self, a barrier in microscopic scop
A true Virus inbred by DNA STD of
a sinful nature and closed mind
To all but skeaze
Are we rebirthed anew, awry
Eating our own tale of condensation carriers,
pack mules
on the trail of compensation trys
Death Terriers of the ratio of phi
Like our smartphone powers us through our day
We have to learn to put God into play
In the most powerful way
He is in our hearts to stay
So we must start our day
Asking God for his protection when we pray
Against life's worst kind of infections
That trips us up allowing us to lose our direction
Our Lord with all his loving affection
Gives us a suit of armor to shield us from evil
We constantly feel that is ever so real
Knowing in Gods deal
He provides us with his holy seal
A suit of armor made of unpenetrable steel
Bearing the breastplate of righteousness
Allowing health happiness and good fortune
To make its way into our lives
Giving us a helmet of salvation
So we can be saved and redeemed
Throughout our duration
Of our time here in his creation
Learning and cultivating in his ways
Providing his mighty sword for our protection
Against satan's demons and warlords
When we put Gods armor on every day
We ensure satan will never take our soul away
Because we keep our faith and give God our trust
So all satans plans will be reduced to dust
Loving God is always a must
To stay far away from Satan's lust
Everything he promises is a bust
God is our moral crust
Whom we should never distrust
We are warlords
Furnished in armours of gold
We fought with words
In many battles untold
People think it's just an error
When we raise our hands in worship
That our adversaries won't lie in terror
Except we sail in a warship
As a matter of fact
The walls of Jericho actually fell
With no single attack
I hope you've been listening well
I've seen the dumb talk
After a worship session
But so many can't walk
After a warship tension
So, the truth is
Life is more than the physical
And you find your peace
When you go deeply spiritual
A lot may disagree
But this is just my concept
More so, the world is actually free
You can focus on your mindset
Choose to battle with a warship
And lose your soul
Or stand and praise with me in worship
And keep your soul
Sponsor : Constance Le France
submitted : 6/7/25
Placed : Third
——————————-
lovingly she opened a tungsten gate to his Heart quantum lasers sharp, her ordained healing art
penetrated a gossamer of silver spider-webs
drew slightly aback to allow patu marplesi to ebb
ghostly armoured soldiers wandered within
from Constantinople fields to Berlin yields spin
filling spirant space with unearthly eerie sound
mighty rainbow light had much to gently unbound
grave were crested captains and kempt kings
strategically planned to destroy men with rings
ages of teary traumas they marched to destroy
humanity’s bounties, dear heavenly bows of joy
godforsaken armies toyed with swords
guns, grenades, rifles until nuclear bomb boards
angelic realms sang in fear, egos refused to hear
dismal throughout these ages of little heart cheer
grief-stricken mothers could not calm
wilful warlords of wasteful weathering charm
programmed to flex muscle in massacre ways
mind had to practice Arts of Dark in many bays
groaning has to end so instructed Divine Light
time to unloop cycles wretched, rampant might
clear Heart Spaces with conscious awareness
melt gates of tungsten or gold, nothing careless
~~~~~~~~~~~<<<<<~~<<<~~~~~~~~~~
Frustrated, fiery, forceful fighting.
Also additional anger at all atrocities.
Fleeting fire furiously following fast.
Soldiers soul’s senses, seriously smouldering,
of onward outrageous oblivion.
Splintered shrapnel spears so silently,
and ashes ascend angrily amid artillery.
Frightening fire flashes feverishly forward.
Suddenly silence surrenders solemnly.
Perpetual peace permeates progressively,
bestowed briefly beyond battles by bated breath.
Contrition captures calm collectively.
Selfish superiors summon senseless slaughter.
Every enlightened ego exudes estimated esteem.
Instantly intentions increase industry's interest.
Profits pushed promoting political power.
Seems soldiers suffer sacrifice so senselessly.
Onward observed obeying ordained orders.
Dutiful dying, deluded, disoriented, defenceless.
Wondering whether war was worth while.
Observed obscene onslaught over.
Emphasizing every ego exerting evil extremes.
Were war, worth while, we would willingly watch
worldly warlords with weaponry wage wars,
bringing best blueprints being bade barbaric, bloody battles,
performing practical parts prescribed plots.
Each entity enlisting ego, entering eventual elimination.
There's little or nothing to do,
it's a February rainy day,
Danny molds Batman out of brown clay;
snow is melting after Saturday's blizzard...
I spot a hopping lizard
chase a scary hoopoo...
that has a broken wing and fears to be prey!
I strum on my steel guitar
a new melody unique and sad...
who knows it might be a symphony
with the simplest melody;
I'll add lyrics, thinking they are swords
that scare and defeat vicious warlords!
I play it on a snowy night in January
when no sounds are heard
and thoughts aren't muffled...
by the presence of a gentle wind
that doesn't scatter the snow and goes far
to caress with its cold breath a jealous star!
There's little or nothing to do
on this rainy February's day,
this guitar keeps me company
and strumming its strings,
it gets me through this long Saturday's blizzard;
nobody will wake up: they are chasing dreams,
nobody will see my monotony...
but Jessica who listens sends me a Kudo!
The Winds of Wars
The winds of wars have shorn the shores where children once had played,
revealing bones of dead unknowns for whom the faithful’d prayed,
to no avail beneath the veil of death where rockets strayed,
for tit-for-tat is where it's at when war hawks’ eggs are laid.
The winds of wars destroy the moors, strew corpses’ burnt debris
which stains the staves that mark the graves (blest signs of victory)
where somber moms are sighing psalms while staring wistfully
upon the past before the blast that doomed their destiny.
The winds of wars clog corridors with folks in search of peace
because, outside, the genocide is giving no surcease;
‘But what the heck, it pays the check’, so say the world Police –
beneath the sky, they slice the pie, each hacking off a piece.
The winds of wars have wiped the floors with foes who won’t obey
(the bombs that fall are meant for all, the bodies ricochet) –
‘The carcass count may sadly mount’ the vanquishers will say,
while hiding facts of heinous acts neath verbal lingerie.
The winds of wars (soon metaphors for hellish deeds, though deeper)
have flattened schools (allowed by rules as written by the Reaper),
and brought despair beamed through the air (beware the booby beeper)
and, when they slay so faraway, make human life the cheaper.
The winds of wars have spread the spores that taint and mangle minds
with doublespeak and hide-and-seek that closes eyes and grinds
the passive pawns (once mowed like lawns) with servitude that binds,
and while the blight is holding tight, the wider world unwinds.
Postscript
The Wins of Wars
The wins of wars fill warlords’ drawers (some call it charity)
with yellow gold for weapons sold to kill the enemy
and purloined oil from conquered soil and tankers seized at sea –
the poor are billed to fund and build the wartime industry.
The wins of wars are won by whores who sell their souls with glee
and run amok to spend a buck (for killing’s never free)
and more and more they’ll arm for war (a spiraled spending spree)
until at last the warrior caste’s deposed and forced to flee.
(Africa) What They Would Have Us Believe
They, this Cabaal,
subversively insist - alas,
That Africa's problems
are merely inherent - thus
Note: Warlords abound
in that Continent's mass,
Enamoured and recruited from poverty - to assist..
Then paid to make genocide
coincidentally..though
Millions have died
Child soldiers captured,
then sold, drugged and raped
Sadly of course,
not able to resist,
Tho many have tried
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
To murderous villainy through
mind control,
brutal machine with
- machete and gun
An innocent child torn from parents - a son,
unseen evil elements
are rejoicing the pain
fomented Rawanda complicit UN
Parents and children
no more comfort again
though long since - these cretins prepared..
elite 'Bloodline' WWF illuminati
Cabaal,
Feeding on innocence, as they simply have none.
to feed Deep State
a Chaotic deep hole
fiscal ruin FIAT money
towards intended fate
And yet that is what,
They would have us believe
- it's coincidence only..
'Nothing to see'
Blood soaked Diamonds collected..
- Sierra Leone
sold through Belgium,
New World Order
- Luciferian throne
after all this time, 'Democratic' Congo is still,
- so under the thumb
Herewith and henceforth collision in war
Angola, Sudan torture,
and the paid for, terror
the UN sit watching,
by default they are - erasing the poor
Western nations, general public,
are fickle and numb..
*Image of Tennyson Cross, Isle of Wight provided by Pixabay.
Forlorn Hope
Poetic Form: Sonnet
Divined amassed, thinly advance their scope
bloodlines warrant one soul's intended quest
persuades enhanced history, constants hope
pastoral guides sculptors essence is blessed
Readiness spurs insights, smoothing passion
unforeseen tests that fool-hearted, not them
their unbidden stare on death's face, cash in
pushed e'er determined, tensing a rose stem
Unchecked horses, intrepid horsemen burst
barrage relents as foe feared those affirmed
lurked rears castle shadows most accursed
chance lights an afront darken all confirmed
Bold few opinions charged submits warlords
fruition won swords gained Heaven rewards
2021 May 08
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (May 18): Judged 2021 May 18
~~Brian Strand
*2nd Place*
This or That, Vol 2
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 May 13
*HMS checked 10 syllables x 14 lines.