OBSCURE LIFE CHARACTERS
Hero
Your terror is palid..
fear is your greatest gesture!
Soldier
your loneliness
is greater than death...
smaller than an enigma,
a data..!
COMMANDED
The bigger the well
from the horror,
more exposed to
subordinate...
THIEF
eternal processor
of other people's gestures..
overeacting prophylaxis
poorly provided,
usurper of
compromising crumbs,,,
NOZZLE
verbose word
among deaf...
brilliant gesticulator
among blinds...!
Home computers arrived out of the blue.
They had been travelling through mind-space
for many years,
Most of us older personages had not a clue.
They came with other free magical packages
these were called 'software' and 'games.'
We diligently spent many long hours
fooling abound with such electronic trickery.
When (somewhere just before middle-age),
I began to type incoherent and
semi-illiterate poetry onto a gray-blue screen
I knew that I was destined to be a genius,
but of course, I had underestimated
the power of the Internet
to both flatter and shatter
the innocence of all humankind.
Esteemed personages and jurists
let the oral arguments begin.
Sir, the legality of your position on this
most serious of matters
limps like a drunken duck.
Madam your logic has diminished,
it trips over its own dung,
it bleats like a flea bitten nanny-goat.
Sire, your robes make you look fat.
Madam, your mother resembles
a demented Pitbull.
Sir, your ass requires two chairs.
This case is flawed.
This flaw is the case!
The floor is wet madam, are you incontinent?
Your flapping mouth is toothless Sir.
Gum me !
Go dry your nuts in a microwave donkey breath.
“My respected colleagues,
decorum please,”
pleads another pillar of the law.
Together – ‘Shut-up fish face!'
Long thoughtful pause,
while giant legal minds deliberate.
A deep disembodied voice intones::
"The Supremes have adjourned for lunch."
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;griot
Griot, jali, jeli
You’re a storyteller;
Singing, telling your tales;
Words songs in harmony wails;
Poet or musician;
Oral repository tradition;
Seen often as leader;
Advisor to royal personages;
Kings and Queens
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
Sometimes called a bard;
Lyrics and words taking charge;
Peoples of West Africa;
Captured into bondage;
People of the kingdom;
Chained placed in boats to be shipped to a new far land;
I am a Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
Griot, jali, jeli
Composer, Diplomat;
Historian, Interpreter, musician;
Peace maker, praise singer;
I am
Poet, spokesperson, Teacher, translator;
Witness, warrior
Griot, jali, jeli
I am, I am
Jali, jeli
African historian
You’re a storyteller;
Praise singer;
10/17/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Outline of the Book of Revelations
Introduction and Apocalyptic Christ, Ch 1
The 7 Churches, Ch. 2-3
Heavenly Liturgy, Ch. 4
Scroll and the Lamb, Ch. 5
Seven Seals Ch. 6-7
Seven Angelic Trumpets, Ch. 8-11
Seven Apocalyptic Personages
a. Mother Mary, Ch. 12
b. Father Christ
c. Michael
d. Dragon
Satanic Trinity
a. Devil, Ch. 12
b. Sea Beast, Ch. 13
c. First Angel against Devil
d. Second Angel against Sea Beast
e. Third Angel against Land Beast
14,000 Virgins, Ch. 14
Seven Bowls of Wrath, Ch. 15-16
Fall of Whore City, Ch. 17-18
Marriage Liturgy of the Lamb, Ch. 19
The Millennium, Ch. 20
a.. Judgment of the Beasts, Satan and the Dead
New Heaven, New Earth, New Jerusalem, Ch. 21
River of Life, Ch. 22
Written: 10012018
Poetry Form: List
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Put me in a binbag
When I pass away
I really don’t mind at all
‘Cos where I’m put I’’ll stay
They come on Thursday morning you know
In their Phoenix truck
So throw me up in the back
I’ll be undiscovered with any luck
It’s reassuring to know you see
That nobody cares at all
In this time of monetary cutbacks
To economise with the funeral
If the council should complain
Saying “ it’s not our job mate “
To cart away late personages
T’is a job that we really hate
The journey out wasn’t too bad
The truck was in fact rather cosy
The in-flight meal was garbage though
And the pedestrians are rather nosy
And now the sun is going down
Over this council tip
It really is quite nasty here
I don’t think it was worth the trip
It is inspirational
to read and watch people
heroes, stars, saints overcoming hardships and trials
and not succumbing to the darkness.
The truth is
there are so many, a multitude of unsung, unknowns
awe inspiring, ordinary, everyday people and personages.
Heroes and Saints.
You have met them, know them,
been blessed by their presence
lived with them
in your everyday life.
Their stories, their lives though not publicized
or on the daily news
are known and seen by you
Inspirational struggles blessed.
Think about it,
you know them well those heroes and saints
they may even be
one of you.
(from novel “Elinor Rigby”)
Why we have loved England?
Not for the Hide park,
ancient castles
and first class evergreen grasses and pastures,
not for Big Ben, Beatles music and other luxurious,
but for the awkward “puppet theatre”
gamed right on the centre of London,
that horrible and hellish perfomanses
where deformed bodies and figures
of famous politics, majors, prime–ministers
queen members and other up-to-date authorities.
shown as personages of harshly sardonic drama.
That popular and profitable business
in Albion – creating and selling monstrous shapes of theirs excellencies
on the open exhibition,
so sharply contrasted with our own preferences
and quite other way of arts perfomanses
practising by our narrow minded artists
deformed sculptors, wicked painters,
enslaved writers and other arts dicreators
survived by creating innumerous golden statures
of our “purest” top governors, “idyllic” leaders,
“angel like” thefts, cleptocraties
and others political idolatories
from our autoritarian idiosincrazy.
Old poems/new posts inspired by recent articles on PoetrySoup
All forms relate to the word
So from the beginning
They carried their ideas
In their minds eye
Shaping symbols
A dimension of spirit
The eye that underlies eyes
Vision makes the flash seem longer
In one blinding flash I thought I saw I was
I said
All forms relate to the word
Being based on a set of words
Also forgotten parts of yourself
Evocation and reproduction
Of the things of life
As strange factory-born personages
Words very mysterious
Every process of Creation begins with
Also with Imagination
Of past ways
Of seeing and experiencing
Detached from life
Finding a way back into it
Breaking from time
Fracturing the sense of balance and place
Where past and future are interchangeable
Achieving synthesis of time and space
One can literally pass the time
Cut loose drifting slowly through
Slowed down space of next to nothingness
Detached from life until
In one blinding flash I said I thought I saw I was
The word falls on its face on the floor
There are eminent personages among the enlisted grades,
Who deserve the utmost in respect and well-earned accolades.
These are the dedicated Sergeants of whom I speak,
Who guide the strong and encourage the weak!
Steadfast leaders whom commanders rely upon,
When they need to get the tough jobs done.
Never-bending sturdy oaks in the face of adversity,
Possessing traits held by few - loyalty and integrity!
Sergeants descend from a long and distinguished tradition,
Following those who faithfully served with great distinction.
Proudly wearing chevrons bestowed upon a privileged few,
And setting high standards for generations that will ensue!
From time immemorial through the present generation,
Brave men and women were led by Sergeants with dedication.
Dreadful loss of life and limb was, alas, sustained,
To ensure that our precious liberties were maintained!
I'm a proud member of this elite fraternity and brotherhood,
Ever marching arm in arm for the nation's common good.
Molding young patriots to defend our glorious heritage.
All serving this great nation with indomitable courage!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I could not tell the two of you apart.
even when i tried to squint you just
grew narrower
and these words are slender stalks in a field
seamless yet sperate, unrhyming yet punctuated.
i remember sitting in the kitchen with poor
posture misspelling the word absence.
you collected a few of the absract moments
to form are binary convoluted past personages.
who spoke in the third person and misdiagnosed
the moments before leaving only shades of
gray pathologies for us to follow.
niether light nor dark.
i tried to gather a little from the two of you
to trace an opinioned outline of you on
some paper, but the opinions fell down.
so i used instead a magnet off of your refrigerator.
you said something like..... what are you doing
or i think im thirsty.
a half empty half full glass sits on the
counter across the room.
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