the opprobrium of humanity at times
has a sweetness to it that sours nature
time leaves it in shambles
on an unforgivable foundation
let his death be upon our children and us
fade into burning crosses
where in the dying embers
stand in shadows of the gallows
where hatred had triumphed
and the stark realism
the flood did not remove the vermin
the lioness will devour the lamb
doves will scatter in the church bells
and as the world turns
the bats are free of the belfry
Oregon 8/26/26
Tandoori or Tangerine Tan?
Mister rich lister Blister
Sinister Mandarin Minister
Sin..Spin & Chagrin Talisman
Jaundice scrotum prejudice totem
Prime time Pantomime
Podium pandemonium
Needs Imodium...clearly feeds Opprobrium
As this git dearly did his bit
No boom just bust
To ensure the sh*t really hit the fan
Just one more time!
Perhaps you think I’m sitting here, amazed.
Egregious as the test you set me is,
the truth is, I am utterly unfazed.
Desultory, to me, this kind of quiz.
Of course I like a challenge. Don’t we all?
God’s chosen one? The lawyer. He gets his.
Concupiscence I’ll use (I have the gall):
attendant difficulties, I ignore.
Tough polysyllables? The merest squall
before the sunshine. What I most adore,
objectively, is playing with your mind:
you throw me junk, I somehow make it soar.
So do your worst. I thrive on rotten rind.
Opprobrium I effortlessly flout,
neglect embrace: contumely, leave behind.
The rancour’s like the Russians, put to rout,
or North Koreans, tied up, tamed and tazed.
You’ll try, but you will never catch me out.
The ancestral savannahs of my people
Are still alive in the unseen horizons
Our grandparents have told us many
Wonderful things about our tribe
Before they arrived, we were here
On the banks of the rivers and streams
We stood and saw their ships
North, south, East and West
Your blood flows in my veins; Only we
Can irrigate the fields without profits
The sick mentality of favour doing
Need to be hang or put in the electric chair
We are not anyone boys or lessers
Our ancestors were kings, queens, and nobles
There was so much to eat and drink
The blood of our sweat, the sweat of our labor
Elements of stability; Rise Up Africans
Like a corpse, bury the weight of opprobrium
No more trembling, red blemishes
Shine in the middle; go nowhere
Africans, wise, and strong
Young and old; be a stimulating tree
Be part of the newfound springing up Africa
Amid the pale and faded flowers, we rise
Deliberately, and earnestly, we rise
With Habakkuk Kargbo (Rabbi)
©Poem Makers SL (18/04/24)
When man becomes
the man's dog ...
When the clear appears
the dark...
When the authority acts as
injustice ...
When the law lives on
the disorder ...
When violence establishes itself as
the truth...
When the ideology admitted as
the religion...
When all love is
the pain ......
When love then
weaken...
When to defeat instead
to touch ...
Then this world will be
close to extinguish ...
Then our blackout will be
imminent...
But it won't be exactly
so if, man does not
disappear in the opprobrium,
in barbarism ,,,!
Trying to express horrifically unsavoury and odious acts of heinousness,
such unspeakable repugnant opprobrium packed with horrendousness
is a test stacked with specific unfavourable hopeless stress,
seen a crying fuzz of the weakened redundant mental mess.
You will find,
when telling of the mad,
you're unkind,
and seemingly bad.
People will treat you insanely s*it,
but insanity is you when you tell of it,
in short: if the stories are mad
and the people in them are mad
but nobody knows they are mad
when telling others you look mad
*because sometimes the simple words
better the poetry
with regards to simple minded herds,
that's what life is showing me
Half a Century
Fifty is not old if you are a tree and the oak tree holds acorns
already planted in waiting for the wheel of life to continue in
sentient beings on time weathered paths one step at a time
I used to be the little child with budding flowers spreading
branches wings for leaves and restless roots pruned with giant
secateurs of what the tempest’s norms held in store for growth
Youth no opprobrium no graceless ignominy’s dishonour but a
rebellious tentative and necessary premise for fulfilment and still
today mere age is no achievement and tree rings not a triumph
At times the reaper has ignored the oak tree fruit and had a go
with ropes and chainsaw poisoned water nails in bark and acid
rain and yet this seasoned sapling stands its tiny ground in time
It is a tree because of branches and without them it is just a stake
some of them withered some are supple like the child I used to be
and somewhere in boughs and twiglets lies the youth of ageing life
I've been misled by my opprobrium again
Stuck in this continuum until the bitter end
Elysian fields beckon me like a moth to flame
Halcyon days gone like 15 minutes of fame
Coal black devil in a pinstripe suit
and the suicide king are in cahoots
To strip me of every last fiber of being
until it's all over but the fleeing
Girded by the phalanx, but still just one man
I wade into the gore as far as I can
Herded like a sheep to its slaughter
I'd fight back but why bother
Miscreants and mendicants, magi and infants
Orchard full of the skulls of dissidents
Juxtapose a joke within the jeer
Somewhere amidst the ennui and the fear
Go to church and lurch forward in your seat
Bring a casserole for the meet and greet
Pixelated images and a distorted voice
mouth full of marbles garbling about choice
Parading about with the éclat of a Broadway actor
while actually looking for the next benefactor
Truth be told, water does come from a stone
As long as the glory is given to God alone
Limerick : Once a Cadre in a Revolution
Once a Cadre in a Revolution
Took strict lessons in elocution
Saw himself on podium
Safe from opprobrium
Ai ! Missed lessons in execution !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Clouds hover over fealty's
splendored domain
Grey patches our devolving
relationship stain
Dark shadows of doubt stride our
weather vane
Jading wind of indifference; eerie,
dolesome refrain
Thunderous echo of despair from
distant, careening train
Lightening's serrated edges strike
our exposed terrain
Duplicitous motives weathered bond
doth strain
Torrential outbursts cannot all the
opprobrium drain
Icy pellets laced with malice
bombard each, desolate plain
Soaked psyches now bleached with
residual disdain
From all rational discourse spent
minds abstain
Penitent tears cannot cleanse the
mildewed brain
Flooded tributaries flowing from
fidelity's bulging vein
Eroding the final links of fealty's,
tenuous chain
The panels faded o'er time earlier creativity constrains
Yet the material value of past visions maintains
Canvas now tinted with darker hues; youthful vigor restrains
But each, underlying tone, burnished with yesterday's dreams, remains
Once gilded strokes now meaningless, paternalistic strains
Yet the meandering pattern an innocent quality still contains
Each, delicate, insecure swab the grainy picture retains
But on the brash backstrokes the forgiving eye trains
Every callous blot each year more opprobrium drains
But every thoughtful deviation the quilted fabric ingrains
Glossy pictures of green pastures corroded by earthy stains
But ephemeral beauty from burgeoning fount surrealistic vista still feigns
The counterfeit copy the brokered ideal even more disdains
But the bartered images serve to rationalize nominal gains
When life on this planet seems cumbersome
and weighted with serious magnitude,
delight dragged down by deep opprobrium,
I pad into the kitchen for some food.
In front of the refrigerator, I
see tacked with tacky magnets your sweet face ,
in the photograph taken last July,
and what was crushing becomes an embrace.
All the gravity of Earth seems flimsy,
it’s unyielding force demonstrably soft,
when refrigerator magnets’ whimsy
can anchor cheerful memories aloft.
Cold comfort may sound like a paradox,
but nourishment’s on both sides of this box.
In loves harbor moored in the dock of regression
and anchored in the quicksand of incontinence
as briny waves of inconstancy wash over my jaded bough
scouring my white-washed deck over and over
leaving the silty residue of bartered romances
tarnishing the fibers of my brigand hull
peeling back the glossy facade that coated my proud vessel
the drift wood of jilted lovers floats all around
shrouding my leased yacht with the residual chaff
of once fertile fronds that bloomed with romance
then were blighted by the cankering disease of insincerity
tides bring in the brackish seaweed of of salty flings
that never rooted my wandering eye or planted my wavering feet
which were tossed to and fro by a truant wind
constantly moving in a listless, uncharted direction
bandied about by the restless currents of change
barges of opprobrium clamor about in my choppy waters
tugging at my corroded conscience pushing the dross
of my intemperate, impulsive dalliances into my feckless psyche
Sacral veil that shrouds bright hopes, dark fears
Screening altar that christens so deep a bond
Scrolled with the innocence of carefree years
Sacrificial shutter signifying all self-serving interests will abscond
Separating from the corporeal ties that correspond
Shade shielding truant desires from the dawning light
Mantle that merges burgeoning stems into fertile frond
Curtain hiding fawning beauty; maiden's honor not to spite
Mysterious tapestry woven to purposely slight, then seemlessly delight
Universal symbol sanctioning fealty, consecrating fidelity
Satin awning whose placid eaves opprobrium doth disquiet
Temporal cloth lifted; two souls span the bridge to immortality
Ceremonial threads relegated to the scrapbook of blanching time
Cherished patent that spawned a new love in it's prime
Dark shadows stalk the imaginary paths of my brain
Mirroring conscience reflects the torpor of my anguished soul
Black clouds hover in every dark corner of my jaded psche
Raining doubt and fear on the canvas of my jaundiced mind
Brackish tears of penance but soil the pores of my fever-soaked face
Flowing into a convoluted whirlpool of shame that constantly recycles my depraved actions
Emptying into the recesses of my vacuous inner being
Stagnating pools of opprobrium surround my bleached heart
Nauseous fumes of pride from my murky depths smother all good intentions
Stranding my drowning soul in the quicksand of intemperance and overindulgence
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