Long Word for word Poems
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We often look at the person within the walls as the breaker ,
not the broken
the relentless evil that exists in this persons free will
The horror this person was willing to create
how they bruised societies ego
How then do we look then at the breakers
We look with sad forgiving eyes
We understand why the family is scared to sleep again in there own house
We understand why the victim escapes into opiat related bliss
We understand why they cant go back to yesterdays routine.
When is it that we decide to place the time stamp
Why must it begin then
What if we looked at everything
Why do we value one free will above another
Lets move back and see
Let your forgiving eyes relate and empathize
The brain signalling reflex and pain
receptors act as puppet strings that hopes to move one out of harms way
Move from everything that hurts,
some stronger than others
To isolate a lonely human is only to further the hurt
Hurt very quickly to desperation
Desperation to obedience
Obedience to “conditional acceptance”
Problem Solved
No
Looking head on into your own script is the only way to find your story
Read your story well, don't skip a line
It all comes together,
what led your brain to release those choices?
If you read my book,
word for word
you would get to the same page in the same chapter
your next sentence would be the same
where my choice is simply a result-
A choice to rid the pain
Remove the fear
Lift the prejudice
Do I run or dare I confront
Do I feast or make love
Is my machine well oiled and assembled for the job
Does the neglect of my maintenace not matter
Is my warranty the 12 decedents of men that choose whether I shall be rebuilt
Or is my justice sitting right here in my book.
Is my forgiveness in my manufacturer
or is forgiveness in the pressure that all my parts are constructed to work a certain way
Am I to be assembled in a way that produces the end product wanted
Then why isn't the best engineer on my case
A lawyer to make decisions the law
a captain to navigate a ship
yet an amateur is sent to rebuild what is broken
an amateur assembled us in the first place
The answer is to understand the book
The answer is to understand the amateur
My Justice is the past
My Justice is my past
My Justice is your past
My justice
Our Justice
Nine lives removed from royal dignity
Five days after
getting acquainted with darling cats
pampered like queens courtesy
thee eldest daughter
and her partner acquired as kittens
reminiscence occurred regarding
one particular four footed feline
my late mother doted over.
Lion eyes hide predatory wage
sharp retractable sharp claw
never did the late Sage
exhibit talon nor ferocious jaw
even when getting his nails clipped,
said gentle cat infrequently
sunk daggers into soft human skin,
but upon completion
of aforementioned onerous task,
he voicelessly, soundlessly, passively,
manly, joyfully did withdraw.
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
(as well mine eldest daughter's beau)
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives
a handy dandy clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued and Atlas
shrugged off kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nicknames)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humongous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Inuits accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek), he knew
practically every detail
incorporating page number, punctuation
plus citing word for word
never truncating, omitting,
nor jumbling... any lines,
and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files
would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour,
cuz yours truly off
in a huff to bang a lore.
Word for word your obituary was read
everyone was there just like you said
mostly enemies they weren't happy
glancing at the photo you chose for
the viewing ma was so brave too
knowing full well that casket was
empty thanking everyone for the
flowers she felt so guilty she had
them all donated to hospice each
and everyone she spat on the shoes
of on lookers demanding no one take
any flowers she said it was bad luck she
didn't need she said she felt like she
would suffer greatly for this grand
scheme oh look how the Knights of
Columbus nearly dropped the handles
alerting the crowd that the coffin was
empty ma began blowing her nose so
hard into the rose embroidered hankie
damn right he's in a better place try
Oklahoma for starters she said she
hated her card buddies were there
just watching waiting on her to lose
it even a few kids you frequently yelled
at in the shop were there peeking behind
the pews asking for cake a few of your
old girl friends arrived in pairs whispering
it should have been me he was so good
that's when your buddy Barry kicked
the seat out right shouted whose ever
funding this funeral needs to settle his
debts with me before you leave this
church that limo ain't free like him
I thought oh my is he serious yes he was
the funeral director wrote him a big fat
check on the spot I couldn't figure out
why so many people lined up to view
your photo it was clearly a life size
portrait ma kelp squeezing my hand
this was all stand up for me really we
just had coffee then you give us an
obituary and catch a flight to the Midwest
shh they want me to say a few words
I can't take it I release this uncontrollable
laugh bringing me to tears naturally wait
wait I would like to thank everyone for
coming out he just called me he missed
his flight he say's will one of you imbeciles
drive the hurst get out to Ohara midway
airport right away pick him up like yesterday
before somebody sees him and you all know
what that means for Christ sakes he needs a ride
misprision of Treason the contemporaries are they to infect defect dissect or to redirect an offense of then treating them to high treason as critics drug them to gallows of literacy hung them cut them down alive entrails be taken out and burned while he is alive head be cut off that his body be divided into four parts that his head and quarters be at the king's disposal but new mintage is still milled out artistic expression is encouraged but as then even so now you have your crickets some for support others would kick it like stylen whimsically Williamisms styley words to find define refine and mine That which is inalienable cannot be bought, sold, or transferred from one individual to another God given rights to express or newly express words by the Word for Word say what you will better for poet to hang on the gallows than say nothing at all but now not some one's treasure or favorite term but He who knows will know
and some day far away the words you shared by-and-by may bring a smile
I'm not usually the type
to stray from structure
and just write down
all my thoughts and feelings
word for word
with no fancy frills or clever metaphors
but every time i put my pen to paper
i realize that no strained rhyme
no set number of syllables
can begin to hold all that I'm feeling right now
so I've decided to write it like I'd say it
I need you to know,
I love you
and i wish that we lived in a perfect world
so that just saying it would be enough
and we'd ride off into the sunset
to live happily ever after
but I know life doesn't work like that anymore
love's become less of a fairytale
and more of an adventure novel
the slipper never fits
none of the princesses ever come down from their towers
without battles and grueling journeys
and even after you get the girl,
you have to fight for everyday of your 'happily ever after'
I know that
but I'm still here
with my sword drawn to start the battle
and I'll never stop fighting
I just needed you to know that
I know that in the stories
the prince is always strong
and he's courageous and valiant
but sometimes I'm afraid I can't be that strong warrior
because right now,
I miss you
so much it makes me tired and weak
and each day it gets harder and harder to fight
I've not your voice to reassure me
that you're right here fighting beside me
so sometimes I just feel so alone
fighting this battle by myself
I wake up in the morning and they tell me
that I was talking to you in my sleep
and I check my phone 100 times a day
even though I know that you can't call
But I'll never stop fighting
I love you
and I miss you
and I'll never drop my sword
even when all I can do is lay here in the dark
and try to picture your face in the cracks of light dancing on the walls
just to keep from going crazy
I'll never stop fighting
I guess I just needed you to know that
In the streets of the pen, poems are scattered
Some of the poems I can greet
Some of the poems I can feed
In the streets of the pen, poems are scattered
Some of the poems I can greet
From the mountain of immortal love
Where flying the happiest white dove
Some of the poems I can greet
From the mountain of immortal love
The poems come like an endless stream of fountain
There all verses feel happy artlessly the poetic brain
From the mountain of immortal love
The poems come like an endless stream of fountain
Where the love and dream live together
Where the heart makes a heaven of care
The poems come like an endless stream of fountain
Where the love and dream live together
There the poetic world paints a peaceful canvas
There, truth implores the righteous law onrush
Where the love and dream live together
There the poetic world paints a peaceful canvas
Where the poems help to teach me truly
Where I want to live spontaneously
There the poetic world paints a peaceful canvas
Where the poems help to teach me truly
In the streets of the pen, poems are scattered
In the thoughtful wisdom, lies are shattered
Where the poems help to teach me truly
In the streets of the pen, poems are scattered
Some of the poems I can greet
Some of the poems I can feed
In the streets of the pen, poems are scattered
-21.12.2020 Chattogram
****
Note: - This is Catena Rondo (a form of a poem)
The poem is comprised of a variable number of quatrains
Each quatrain has a rhyme pattern of AbbA
The first line of each quatrain is also the final line of the quatrain
The second line of each quatrain is the first line of the next quatrain
The final quatrain should repeat the first quatrain word for word
There are no rules for meter, syllables, or subject matter. Just a lot of rhyming refrains.
I can tell you a story
I have enough living to do so
But interested perhaps hardly
I’m sure you have better things to follow
I will tell it for myself then
You can stop reading at this point
Disinterest only mean you won’t understand the end
Or did I spark an interest in you to join?
Do you remember words?
A time when spoken bears it heard
To tell and be genuine about
Not claimed and be sky-rocket proud
When lying can be for good honesty within
When lying in modesty can adhere truth therein
So much said that weren’t meant to be
So much words in the air we can never see
I pick I choose I chose I used…
Somehow… transpiring words today I no more knew
How do words simply stray beyond?
To no more bear its meaning to once belong?
I can speak of truth you wouldn’t believe
You can lie and I listen and receive
Do I not grieve yet… we become the part
Those leaving words that could melt our hearts
Is it the world today… is it you up to date?
Are we too inward away… or is it simply me too late?
How can we speak with chosen words?
Upon words that no more commands to be heard
Have the world change or have I?
Did you let it change… or ask why?
Leaving minds for when words you transcend
The hiding thoughts where aspiring words will lend
I know what needs be heard
To play the language word for word
And there is no need for you to listen
Because already… we are forever broken
I no longer have the word to describe who I am
Have you that word to describe who you are?
Guess you are still reading this to the end
My guess… you haven't already known you have come so far
Do you know what I mean with my story?
Or have you a story I’ll be with interest to follow?
I think your story I'll understand too… barely
Have we really enough living to do so?
Fan Fiction
The Gospels and Acts, fan fiction for all,
Written decades after the epistles of Paul.
Paul knew nothing of Jesus’ life.
Not his birth, his miracles, his disciples or his strife.
So decades after he supposedly died,
Believers craved more backstory, applied
To the life of Jesus to make him seem,
As great as any other god’s meme.
Mark is the oldest, scholars agree.
With Matthew and Luke using a tremendous degree,
Of Mark’s tale of Jesus and we can see,
Because Greek syntax is as fluid as a language can be.
After Mark came Matthew and then came Luke.
Only fundamentalists care to rebuke.
So in reality we do not have three
In the Greek it’s plain to see.
Word for word, anyone can see,
Only hard core believers will disagree.
Matthew used ninety five percent of Mark,
And in his account, he will embark,
On adding to the tale, his own events,
Making Jesus more divine as he adds his contents.
Seventy five percent of Mark is in Luke,
And of course, some want to refute
This, but once again it’s in plain site,
Accepted by most without a fight.
Further what is seen in Gospels one and three,
Is that even more of the words in those agree.
About a quarter of Matthew and Luke’s two books,
Are only found in these two, gadzooks!
This means that Matthew and Luke,
Are mostly the same and this is no fluke.
Their goals were to add to each previous tale,
And in their goals, they did not fail.
So in the end it’s important to see,
The synoptic gospels really aren’t three.
Mimesis and additions, no matter the way,
Just make our god the best to pray
To.
And keep in mind, this is all after Paul,
Who says nothing of Jesus and Jesus’ cabal.
So in the end, for all to see,
It’s just fan fiction amongst the three.
A world of question's
puzzles and riddles
That day of the 7th black moon
it was a typical
Ahpla response
When returned
I could sense him dancing
" tell me brother , the message "
After a word for word account
Ahpla howled ,
" I would pluck and devour
such sour pride would I "
He then went into a pacing frenzy
I , Agemo , know my brother
soon to settle
eventually compose and collect
We've learned together
skills necessary from each
how we problem solve
what we teach.......
At present moment ,
the cool morning breeze
bringing my mind back
I looked at Ahpla ,
smiled inside
remembering that day
" Ahpla , is it too soon
to inquire of the stone ? "
" Agemo , my brother
how many time's
it is not our's to ask
only to serve "
I thought ,
yea , for what prior knowledge
would do to help now
if most
can't understand the simpler
Ahpla then suddenly
cocked his head
with a wry smile , asked
" tell me , Agemo ,
fore knowledge such stone
beneficial , yes ? "
He was testing...me again
" Ahpla , brother , I realize
other's are long questing
curious , aren't you ? "
Sneeringly , Ahpla remark's
" curious you ask , more of a curse
this infinite battle continues worse "
Ahpla suddenly solemn
" curse myself this anger
our duty is no curse...
Agemo , leave me this moment
I need time to myself "
I , Agemo , know my brother Ahpla
he would confront
hundrend's of our hate enemies
to preserve the way
I understand his anxiety......
Ahpla once counciled me , saying
" it is better to die with honor
than to live in disgrace...
life is a celebration even in death "
Laskrizon ,
where we'll cry
the final tear
strength and honor , no fear............
Dear Lord Byron
Please don't be upset
I wish to call you George
With affection and respect
The "Destruction of Sennacherib"
I was introduced to your poem
I learned it word for word
As I sat home all alone
You see George the meaning
Is much more than you know
In school I had no success
I was considered quite slow
Empowered by your words
Assyrians coming down
I spoke with true emotion
For once I wasn't a clown
When I spoke of your steed
With his nostrils all wide
Within the deep of me
I experienced pride
Like the leaves in your forest
When summer is green
You provided inspiration
I now travel where you've been
With a pen held in my hand
My destruction I escape
Within my troubled mind
New ideas take their shape
I'm gifted with freedom
Words of power do supply
Whether reading or writing
They provide me with my high
So George, I humbly thank you
You're truly the reason why
I travel within the words
They're the gift that help me fly
With anticipation
I know one day we'll meet
Beyond the gates of heaven
Please reserve for me a seat
The Father of all poets
Will speak in splendid tones
We'll marvel at his spirit
We will feel it in our bones
For poets are connected
In very intricate ways
Time is not of consequence
Our words are a form of praise
As a child when I committed Lord Byrons poem to memory,
I had no idea it was a story from the Bible. Being he was a
believer I wanted to honor both him and our God. Thanks
Monterey, I think this is a great topic for a poem. I also
chose to write in the same form as he had for "The Destruction
of Sennacherib". This was the first and only form I wrote in
prior to coming to the soup. I thank all the poets here who have
helped me grow, yourself included Monterey.