Predecessors Poems

RICEPUBLIC

Tell them we are working hard
They will soon afford to buy rice
Show them our graphic evidence
Of rice pyramids. We are self-sufficient.

When they complain of hardship
Give them rice!

When there is rising unemployment
Add some more rice, I say
There's plenty of cassava too to eat.

If they plan to protest
And the workers want to strike
Pacify them with mudus of rice, right away
I know my people, they will shelve it.

All subsidies are gone forever
Taxes all around have come to stay
And when those rabble begin to grumble
Let the Custom open their stores
Of foreign rice to them. It tastes good!

My people are understanding 
I have instructed them to tighten their belts
But if they questioned my extravagance
Give them state-sponsored rice
Sold at a subsidized rate.
Let them know we are truly empathic.

Not our fault about climate change
God knows why! We inherited banditry 
Herders-farmers' clash, from our predecessors
But be assured when disaster strikes
Our response shall be swift
To distribute rice in camps of the IDPs!

Doomed Generation

We are the doomed generation
Addiction runs through our veins
The burden of being the generation to solve climate change 
The tumors of self-loathing are embedded in our deepest parts 
We are the doomed generation 

We are the damned generation 
The seas of doubt stir within
The line between good and evil thins
Evil wins out 
We are the damned generation

We are the chosen generation
We were chosen for a reason
A compilation of all our predecessors 
We are the chosen generation

Doomed, damned, and chosen to die 
This is our generation

Revolution

   A myriad of steps we will take
     to correct our predecessors’ mistakes...

   So busy will we be
     our own foibles we’ll not see

Phenomenal Woman

screams and tears on a starry night
a child is born, a woman of light
celebration for she is a blessing 
given to the world to teach a lesson
innocent and pure she is 
obedience and love she breathes
loved by the almighty himself 
from her predecessors the savior himself
Some seek to cast her down 
others seek to tear her gown 
A garment of pride and confidence
They aim to make her like her precedents 
immortal she is not 
Sometimes life gets hot 
invisibility is not hers 
Silence in lots of jars 
She sees the time to be seen 
and hears the time to be heard 
She will not walk by you 
without a second glance like the color blue
Her confidence is contagious 
It makes some others delirious
She wakes up in the morning 
and the devil is mourning  
angry at her rise 
righteousness, forever in her life 
till the day she dies 
and leaves this world of lies 
seen she shall be 
heard she shall be 
her life a lesson 
Her existence a blessing 
phenomenal woman

Great Persons Think Alike

Steven Grant : “ Every idea is a juxtaposition of existing concepts.”

Wilson Mizner : “ If you steal from one author, it’s plagiarism, if you steal
                       from many, it’s research.”



        Great Persons Think Alike


       When I notice plagiarism
       I do not lose enthusiasm.
       I smile to forgive and forget
       being generous I accept.

      The proverb just to strike
      “ Great persons think alike.”

      I’m influenced by predecessors
      My followers are my successors.
      Yet New ideas are to evoke.
      Edition, submission to invoke.

      Musings roll : Me to dick,
      “ Great persons think alike.”
      

  02/10/23

 Strand Premiere No. 1192

Contest by Brian Strand

Embrace the Quill

Coward, you dare to hide and break the quill,
Instead of changing your ways, all your wrongs;
Arrogance yours, so you do as you will,
Perseverance theirs, so truth they shall long;

By luck, no doubt, predecessors escaped,
But time has been cruel, trust dwindled away;
Claim to be chosen by preponderance,
Pray investigation doesn’t show dismay;

But there are willful birds and trees, so steal,
Another awaits to be of service,
To spray your ink in papers far and near,
For masses to read aloud, exhibit;

So change your ways, unfrightened of reveal,
Embrace the quill as friend not foe, lest cheat.

Written in Iambic Pentameter

Stand With Texas

Proud brothers and sisters once 
again having to defend The USA, 
at its Southern Border. But, today, 
unlike threats of the past, the invading 
army are sick, hungry, destitute bands 
of migrants – who have been tricked 
into entering the Nation illegally. Tricked 
by evil, Marxist tyrants, our Present 
Administration, advocating for a far less 
free Republic than that imagined by noble 
and honorable predecessors. Will we let 
these Texas Patriots stand alone? 
Perhaps damning future American 
generations, to the hellish fires of
Despotism.

Spaceploitation2

Oh my God they’re carrying the soil..!
From my precious planet fertile 
It seems their homeland is of no use
Now they are at my home abuse
Thus their abode is full of pollution
Unfit to stay and survive in motion
After many a nuclear fission
Their planet has lost its fruition
Now hell-bent on my planet Earth
They’ve come to exploit the earth   8

Let me get into the action swift
By alerting my Interpol Hist …!
This is my earth and I love it
In no way I let aliens steal it
For it’s the land of my predecessors
And made fertile by my ancestors
We earth-dwellers are unique men
We live and let others live in den
Peace keeping has been our virtue
Violence and greed we hate true  9

The moment I want to dial a number
I woke up and amazed at the wonder
Thus it’s a dream and not reality
My earth is always my property
Now to protect it is my duty
And maintain its evergreen beauty
I understood I should be careful
Making my earth a clean place full
Let me plant trees in abundance
As there’s no 2nd Earth in distance..10

The Answers

The current affairs are similar to occurrences in the past,
so, the answers we seek are contained within the cast.

A history of the hypothesis and a solution,
readily available to pursue or set into perpetual motion.

Initial investigation of this knowledge base,
may prove to be the most beneficial case.

Resolution or a prerequisite to initiate the process,
provides an opportunity to attain success.

Whatever the situation in any given season,
practicality is preferred over no rhyme or reason.

Although the issue may be a futuristic event,
the relativity of the situation does not require one to invent.

Because the matter can be resolved by a desired thirst,
for the philosophies utilized to encounter the first.

Though egos may foster grandiose thoughts,
that the ideas today are produced and not sought.

Since the predecessors with ingenuity and foresight,
through the centuries have provided the insight.

We’re expected to continue to build for tomorrow,
but the framework for the answers are already here to borrow.

Open Arms

there waiting for me
on the other side
i like to think
of all those
before me
who have passed
and one day
will line up
by the light
with open arms
to welcome me



AP: Honorable Mention 2021

Posted on July 23 2020

The Seat of Justice

It's hard, stationary, 
 transfixed in place
 weather-worn, 
 badgered by reactive innuendo
a sculpted image of someone's admiration
 some hardened forgotten 
 deluded memory 
 recorded in a complicated untruthful history
focused on one failure or one accomplishment
 with purpose, intent 
 long-forgotten unforgivable
 now unfavorable, 
a remnant of time passed
 graffiti stained and bludgeoned change
 for what we reactively assume 
 it once or still represents
distasteful to some 
 a triggered interpretation
 honored by the presence of others 
 seeing it differently today,
the monuments of our unworthy ancestors
 the indignation of our self-righteous predecessors
 and the enlightened indulgent imagery 
 of who we are becoming today
in the future 
 hope is yet be written
 how will our children, 
 and our children's children
see us?
 Take a seat, 
 reflect, 
 plan,  
imagine seeing who you are
 see where you're going
 acknowledge where you have been
 and how you got here
where 
 will you be
 today
 and tomorrow?

My Lord You Brought Me To This Rich Land

My Lord, you brought me to this rich land. 
Your blessings overflow out of the hands of your people, 
the brains of your people,
the hearts of your people, 
the autopsies of your people. 
Wait for me 
to bring my best
as these brought their best.
To offer my self,
To offer sacrifice,
To make (in) awe and gratitude,
For the fat-land-oil-people you’ve laid out before me,
on repulsively seductively repulsive boards in vaults,
For the person you have made me to be, 
'cause God don’t make no junk,
But all I do, 
all I bring, 
all I have 
to offer is marred,
scarred by my Self-
Inability-
Flitting-
Distraction-
Consciousness-
Appraisal-
Failure-
Hunger-
Drought,
My Lord, isn’t there a blessing left 
in Milkandhoneyland
For me?

The Rivers and the Dry Spells

Tears can flow loosely like unrighteous gifts, curling, 
like good hair, around bags down under 
shaded lamps, taking with them manhood, 
makeup, and mistakes canned in l'amour or misery.
These tears are spirits, meeting at the Philtrum, 
gathering, as if to converse, then have the audacity
to pull strayed strands together, dripping
from the longest onto carved thighs, very close to
genitals. But they have no worries; they are safe,
in Boxers. This I can say of tears, they are lights,
illuminating places between Cheekbones
and Afflictions. Some tears have no river.
Their predecessors were young men, coming
ever so often. These are a thoughtful kind.

Foredoomed

foredoomed
with the same kismet
as one's predecessors
how can one
feel anything
beyond winter's chill

a time for giving
how can one give
when one didn't give
what was taken
again and again

a time to rejoice
how does one 
celebrate death

a time to gather
with family
around a body
stilled from life
dressed in black
as tears are choked
in shortened breaths
as you try 
to compose yourself
long enough to speak

another wreath
to place upon
another grave
as you feel
the chill
of death
in every breath
of december

how can one
find the spirit
of a season
in the voids
where darkness strikes
over and over
again

all while knowing
you could be next
foredoomed
with the same
kismet

Leaves Twirl

~ Fall's Frolic ~

Rudderless winds swirl on high
  Orange, yellow, red leaves
twirl as they fall from the sky

Form carefree circles
  before they touch down
on crisp-scented predecessors
  cushioning the ground

The day wanes; a chill is felt
  a bloom, flushed-red
O'er tingling cheeks overspreads

One last heroic leap into
  a leafy pile
Then skip indoors to the fireplace
  to warm up for a while

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