Business magnate and the world's second richest, Elon Musk.
Fathered soccer team; probably slaves away from dawn to dusk.
Reluctantly bought "Twitter" and reinstated banned folks outright.
Elongated debunked conspiracy theories by the Washington right.
Musk Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
Date written: 01/22/2023
A gong sounds again
Squalled with familiar war cries
Bringing me on my feet again
To pick the best tools, drop the fries
One more bite and I’m the next casualty
Picking military regalia, dress down to the task’d
My alert generals whine, pumping grit in my faculty
So I can dodge through the strictness unfrisk’d
Doing rehearsals amid fear
Just to stay put with the adversary’s whim
To never forget his tactful enticing tear
At the expense of my sympathy grim
Am not headed for perpetual fall
For I’ve made out the trickery and malice in lair
Yesterday’s battle for crown in virtuosos’ hall
Really confirmed how emeritus victory and flair
Counteth not at the status quo
And that we can change yesterday’s outcome
If only we could be termed as the trio or duo
Of our grit and purged frolicsome
Selves
And so, whether magnate in our seedy residence
Or cognate to the salient diamonds
We shun perfection decadence
To only unmask dazzling splendid diamonds!
Embroidery whose titan never gets credit
An empire whose founder is long forgotten
And exists only as an adage, whose tale relives
Long forgotten history
History that ministered hope to those dimming out
Shone paths to those whose itinerary was threatened by
Dark dusks and cloudy daytimes
A magnate whose reputation was the
Long run cup of poison, brewed enough to take his life
An army general whose subordinates conspired and unseated
Him, uncrowned him from glory with thorns
A trusted cognate who is declared illegitimate at the reading
Of a will
We all are victims of our previous milestones misunderstood
Fruitful efforts unappreciated and rightful places robbed
Once we were at the pinnacle but we only stare up at it
From the footstool we found ourselves suddenly
The peak of one mountain seemingly the bottom of the other
The tempting decision to drop off the pinnacle and grow wings
To land on the top of Everest or the slopes of Aberdares
Whichever the outcome let it be loud,
You were once at the top, and you are back there!
The sphere is just as daring manoeuvers
Skillful tactics making you mover
No matter the hardships more or fewer
Smartness is there to keep you cooler
Magnate, here, is a consumer
Using the world as a humor
Having every bit of exposure
Gets over to those in his closure
Ruling the world over and over
Conquering the whole and becoming the owner
This is the life to the controller
But how come this be the world of sober
He lives according to his own ruler
Who knows what life is going to be sooner
So he makes the world and himself newer
Because he knows what’s in near future
Dadi
Sitting on the doorstep,
She looks at me with her loving eyes.
So weary, I ponder,
They seem to be holding so many mysteries.
They abound with untold tales,
I wonder.
I vow to myself; these stories, I shall hear someday, as she cajoles me to sleep.
She shields me from Rani’s slaps,
Every now and then.
She now snaps at me in a language; melodious song it seems at first.
But quickly it reaches a crescendo of all too familiar words which my ears were accustomed to.
Coming from the magnate of our family,
the revered one; who toils from 7 to 7 and can hardly stands a sound when he is back.
I feel the two have made a pact of some sort;
Otherwise why would they use the same disgruntled mellifluous words,
When they were cross.
Bemused I go on with the task at hand
Oiling the silver-haired roly-poly Dadi’s threads.
Yearning for another round of discordant bitterly words,
Strange why I found them amusingly endearing.
Cheekily I pulled her hair harder this time
With clumps of it ending on my sweaty palms.
Here they come the shower of the much-anticipated jingling jingling words.
The slum
When I was born the manger was occupied
I got a cot at a Home run by the salvation- army
and stayed the until my step-grandmother committed suicide
by jumping out of the third-floor window, she was going
to join my grandfather
A funny thing about the window it kept opening up by itself
for years afterwards.
The home, the SA ran was called the slum, the flat we got
nearby, as was also the big white house belonging
to a shipping magnate, he was born in the house and was
not about to leave for a fancy building out of town.
For us children, it was just a name and had no connotation
of poverty or low life.
My best friend Alf lived permanently at the Home and later
became a chief train conductor in South Africa.
I met him once in Johannesburg entrenched in middle classness
big house and servants, something of a change from the slum.
Stew in the pot
Potatoes in the oven
It’s nearly six o’clock
The apartment looks like heaven
Flowers in place
Candle lights for two
Soft music on the radio
Of love we’ll sip its brew
The buzzer sounds inside of me
My heart beats to the door
There stands a beautiful woman
With a smile that I adore
Like a magnate pulls the clip
Our eyes locked in a stare
We kissed the kiss of Angels
And Deviled in the bed
Dead Aylan in this sprained beach of humane,
Embraces me but I've no
any guilt feelings!
Toll of knell is proclaiming all my guiltiness
but I'm in stillness of my job, I've
no guilt feelings!
No guilt feelings; no nightmare, I can
jeer at all your sacredness, cause I've no
guilty feelings!
no, no, no! I'm only true in world business!
Albatross of Mariners, the soul of Aylan!
No; I'm not!
Refugees, settlers are everywhere, can
die in my business pyre. I'm
the power, no guilt feelings!
Havoc morning of humanity I can bring!
Let them die in mourning song
of dwelling
I'm the trader, the business magnate
gear, guilt feelings in not in
my super power!
- October 15, 2018 Chattogram
We had life with total convictions.
Knowing very well of hopeless times.
Nothing seemed to bring joy,
Just to stay patiently for our hearts to be torn apart.
Making us find truth been undermined.
Where do we fall victims?
Awkward presented on the ceiling.
Draining the power of everyone's feeling.
Hello,cool down the tension.
You got to be casual sometimes,
Forget the secret surrounding your beginning.
It's the starting point of every magnate,
And telling you aboutg myself demands a smiling face.
The best scheme to help you stand as an ace.
Which would attach my soul to glorious days.
Happy is the seeker of tender affection,
Gracefully does the imagination swings within better imperfection.
Yes,the beauty of intention,
That's what we desire for awesome reception.
More lifeforms live on our skin than people on the planet
Are these guys jazzing me, do I seem like a sucker magnate
This really can't be true
It's like an invisible zoo
If they terminate this guy's position, they'd get my ballot
Villanelle: How much is how near enough and yet not much
How much is how near enough and yet not much
The measure of the cup is what the hand grabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Some take more than what is their share in one clutch
Most really take what comes trickling down for grabs
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Many such grow up never knowing what is much
Nor how the rich few make an art out of nabs
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Most make up the legions who for others march
Those who run the State run it for magnate flabs
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Big fish eat shoals of small fish all in one munch
And the bigger they get all the smaller nags
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
Yet everyone wants to dangle from the high hatch
E’en when there’s nothing much the Nation brags
How much is how near enough and yet not much
Must the common man pay the price or all go Dutch
(C) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Cynosure
Umm..cynosure... what does that mean?
Oh yes, I see...something supreme.
Like dignitary, celeb, sight;
a focal point, or nucleus.
A stunner, prodigy, limelight,
a treasure, magnate, omphalos.
A hero, luminary, ace,
centrality, big gun, big name.
A famous person, worthy place,
or major leaguer of some fame.
A star, a personality;
a spotlight, center of it all.
Exemplar and epitome;
an archetype, original.
Top brass, top dog, a spectacle,
a wonderment or quintessence.
An act of God, a miracle;
immortal, beauty, eminence.
Umm...cynosure...now understood.
To me, it means...superbly good.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest: Cynosure
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 07/01/2016
Great Caesar's ghost,
Hail dictating despot!
Overlord of Rome,
His soul still roams,
Big Julie's the magnate,
His motto still rates,
"We ain't dead yet!" Great!
All hail dictating despot,
Hail, great Caesar's ghost!!!
Villanelle : Those whom the gods disdain bloat tough in hubris
Those whom the gods disdain bloat tough in hubris
Vesuvius sank isle strung duckweed in Mid-Sea
Tectonic plates clash Zeus’ curse sinks Atlantis
Tough talk across Atlantic makes Olympus hiss
Triumphant magnate tandem with pale Yin on knee
Those whom the gods disdain bloat tough in hubris
No Plato to lament holy Lost Angeles
Split through Grand Canyon guts out at New Jersey
Tectonic plates clash Zeus’ curse sinks Atlantis
Meru’s father stomachs no campaign mudsling blitz :
« Stop the la-di-da now or I’ll make you float free ! »
Those whom the gods disdain bloat tough in hubris
« Let Minerva win or I’ll split Oval Office !
I’ll not say it again : You’ll lose Land of Free ! »
Tectonic plates clash Zeus’ curse sinks Atlantis
No curse worse than what shatters Olympus bliss
« Come to your senses now : Trump card will make you flee ! »
Those whom the gods disdain bloat tough in hubris
Tectonic plates clash Zeus’ curse sinks Atlantis
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
When war is all there is,
peace doesn't have a chance.
When soldiers are just pawns,
in his diabolical plan.
Who laughs at their suffering,
rejoicing in the game?
He's the tycoon of torment,
the king of pain.
When humans are inhumane,
inflicting torture and shame,
being pleasured by the insane.
Who is happy wounding souls,
who feels their loss is his gain?
He's the magnate of misery,
the king of pain.
When disaster strikes the innocent,
lives go down in flames.
Who hides behind God throwing stones,
slandering his holy Name?
Revelling in the game.
He's the baron of broken hearts,
the king of pain.
Know his name?
S ultan of suffering
A ffliction Emperor
T ycoon of Torment
A che King
N oxious substance
Now you know who is behind all the suffering in the world, the King of Pain!
John Derek Hamilton November 18, 2015
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