Open your ears and mind, before you open your eyes ' Be informed of humanitys dis-guise..As the Greeks
Gave gifts to Troy, you will notice the
Same old hackneyed ploys, food parcels
To the dissposessed, bulk bought could
Cost? ten to fifteen dollars, certainly no
Less.. Yet the mirrorless action of giving
Billions, to fund wars destruction its in
The trillions.' Of course no bankers would
Be involved in such, or non profit orgs..'
Now should that read organ-isations.? I
Wonder much.? Yet should i not wonder?
Just bow my head, hunch shoulders and
Shrug.? With no-thing said.? Untill I am in
Truth; null and void' quite dead.!
Amazon's delivery prime
Anything to anywhere your choice
Key to success always on time
FedEx an international voice
Been around for many a year
Reputation of being Rolls-Royce
D H L delivers far and near
Commercial opportunity founders sussed
Parcels will arrive have no fear
United Parcel Service a must
Another outfit comes into play
U P S organisations trust
Millions of parcels worldwide every day
Delivery logistics work come what may
'Buy land as they don't make it anymore,'
Samuel said, 'and be among the have-gots.
Purchase a plethora of parcels of property,
then you'll have a whole lot of lots.'
Therefore, as nought but an investment,
bought a house in Dickson, Tennessee,
renovated, remodeled and rented it out,
'twas the first time as a homeowner for me.
Over time, paid about twice the price,
for, with the lot of an absentee landlord learned,
when the tenant absconded with every appliance,
and yet, never again would I be burned.
Gifts arrive with yuletide
Lights wrap warmth in winter
Snow softens every corner
Trees cradle patient parcels
Candles hold quiet prayers
Gifts speak love without words
Sharing becomes celebration
Hearts rise through giving
All gifts echo grace
Written: October 28, 2025
I press my palm against your shoulder,
dust-streaked and aged
You unfold before me.
Heat rises from the folds
between the tendon and the tender dough.
I savor a bite of the dough.
reminiscent of the stars I once folded,
now scattered,
akin to lost receipts
in a tempest.
I arrive with my stained skin, as a flyer
marred by hurried typos,
hastily printed
by a restless intern.
Here, I consume you wholly.
A vendor presents grief in palm-sized parcels,
with you wrapped in sensational headlines
That twists the truth.
I swallow every piece of you,
even the mustard staining the captions.
But then the rain begins—my likeness of you blurs,
my ink a wing in flight as a winged creature.
A man in uniform smiles and brushes
the sugar from my scalp
casting it into the tide, a final farewell.
I found a bunch of letters
Dated 1993,
Which were written by my son from camp
And forwarded to me.
It was his first time staying there,
For one month, in a bunk.
He was away, with new routines
And he was in a funk.
His letters said he missed us
And was homesick just at night.
Aside from that, it seemed that he
Was managing all right.
A theme that was recurring
Mentioned we should send him stuff.
It sounded like, to him, our parcels
Weren’t filled enough.
This summer, his own son’s at camp -
First time, a different place,
But now in photos sent
We see his mostly smiling face.
His emails sound more upbeat
(Just a tiny “miss you” cloud),
Though he can’t request a package
Since today, they’re not allowed.
A Handcart and a Ring
A man I knew had a handcart and became self-employed
I often saw him in the town with a load of parcels and sometimes furniture
He was a contented man.
One day, on his way to the railway station, the wheel of his cart came off
four suitcases fell into the street.
So, what to do?
He traced his steps and soon found the missing pieces that kept the wheel
on the axle, but he also found an expensive diamond ring
he put it in his pocket as he was occupied with fixing the wheel
and get his load of suitcases to the railway station
In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring
he contacted her via the paper, and she was happy,
she didn’t give him any money because, as she said, honesty has its reward
The people at the paper thought this was too mean for words
made a collection and handed the kind man the money.
A Picture of him and his cart, the paper, and a nice story for the paper to sell.
when too old to push his cart around, he became a poet of the small things in life
and not about the life of aristocrats
Beanie
When you see a
cracked AD on
your letters or
on small parcels with no
address that’s my
beanie who did it.
In England it is almost twelve o'clock
I just saw Santa Claus in his red smock
He left parcels galore
Outside of my front door
Asked him in, but he said his lips were sore.
Happy Africa day ,
You are always welcome to Africa
Africa of millions of happiest people
Who understand better their lives conditions
And stop buy things
In credits.
Happy Africa day ,
Comparison is not reason
It is always good share with brothers and
Sisters of the World.
Allow me to tell you about Africa again
And again.
When some people
Sing daily ," Africa is Poor "
Investigating their lives,
You find out that they live with credits
Of so many things.
Imagine getting credit of
A car,
A house,
Some food parcels,
Eyelashes,
Shoes
Cloths
Shoes polishes ,
Even Underwears
And so on
But they still calling,
"Africa poor "
If it happens to lose jobs,
And finding themselves on the roads
Due to more loans.
Do they have a good lesson
To teach majority Africans?
Happy Africa day,
In many African countries majority people
Buy things in cash :
- Luxury cars
- Houses,
- Farms,
- Aeroplanes,
- Ships,
- Boats
- Cloths
- Foods
- So on
When they losing their jobs
They will still remain
In good comfort places.
May 26/2023
The one thing you can count on,
Is that knowledge will inspire.
And it put us on the path,
Like the early quest for fire.
All the answers that we sought,
Would advance the human race.
From the sculpting of the wheel,
To our journey out in space.
We strived to build pyramids,
Today's structures reach the sky.
Wright's flight was from Kitty Hawk,
Now our jets go flashing by.
Parcels were bound by hemp,
Using fibers from the stems.
We now help those disabled,
With prosthetics for their limbs.
Finding ways to split atoms,
And cure some forms of cancer.
Through many years of research,
We came up with the answer.
All our struggles over time,
By the people we relied.
The best hope for the future,
Is we learn to coincide.
At the Depot
As the snow flies, on a cold and grey December dawn
to waiting homes no mails are borne
from the depot.
Phil Bloggs, a mailman, scans the news
but his screwed up tabloid gives him the blues
saying 'To compromise both sides refuse,'
at the depot.
Hark! Foxes, stray cats, rats, critters all.
though humans languish, have a ball
in the depot.
On letters, parcels and Christmas boxes
little mice play, as do foxes.
Such a sight you never saw.
as stray dogs chew and rodents gnaw
in the depot.
What fleshpots in sealed parcels beckon
hungry vermin, who can reckon
in the depot?
What meaty dish, what luscious pie
teeters in a box stacked high?
No robber cries 'stand and deliver'
though many freeze and many shiver.
Phil Bloggs turns to another page
and what he reads puts him in rage
in the depot.
For guns and rockets billions go through
but for impoverished nurses barely a sou
in the ghetto.
SHENANIGANS
Shenanigans and hullabaloos of the Westerners worsens our sins in this societal ruins,
washing-in it's wastes and wildness with unrest
just like Amazon delivering parcels with its crest.
The thief with the aim to survive hunger got an arrest
but corrupt wealthy well paid politicians goes for free,
Others hoard or pilfer treasure troves from every tree.
Neither envy unknown affluence of any type
nor thrive in the glory of other people's hype.
Don't live in the prison of other people's opinion.
Or meddle in their false esteemed & established union.
In all fairness, let the world handle it's business;
And despite life's shenanigans, show finesse.
You're one man army just as the people to the world.
The unpredictability of life got the world enamored.
Let the world face and stifle it's own thorn,
Don't be the bunch, but in your own sphere be the one.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © December2022.
We would French Burgundy sip,
Hands of intimate ones grip,
Up the flaps of trousers zip,
Together documents clip,
Through borrowed newspapers flip,
Buckets into rivers dip,
Good waiters in hotels tip,
Open promised parcels rip,
Penniless The Costly skip,
Ideas we think okay quip;
Across Big Waters things ship
We would from seen danger slip,
Try not to over stones trip,
In the bud the hurting nip,
Roofs patch up that waters drip
For the quite clearly familiar
Not a single thing peculiar.
Between us now a big dam:
When one weighs it: big gram!
I've just declined his fat ram;
Today, returned his fat yam
And it was a blow - A Bam!
No more his sweets in mouth cram
Arab against Uncle Sam:
On his high ways: Traffic Jam!...
Demanded parcels he'd got
To a friend buffet in court:
Tenant nuisance out to harm
Show The Law's Punitive Arm.
And they all went up in flames;
To me lips pushing the blames...
When I meet him, it's eyes right:
From tomorrow Eagle's Flight.
No doubt, I'd crossed mere Sawyer
While searching for a lawyer
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