They came not with swords, but with silence and smiles,
White coats cloaked in corporate trials.
The syringe is a dagger, the pill a chain,
Each cure a contract of hidden pain.
They fed us fear in televised scripts,
Diagnosed souls with chemical whips.
And governments bowed with pockets wide,
While mothers wept as children died.
What price is health when greed prescribes?
When truth is gagged and justice bribes?
You crafted sickness, sold it as fate —
Your empire built on the breath you take.
But the dawn is rising, wild and clear,
With rebel hearts you failed to steer.
And though you wore gods’ masks to deceive,
Your time is done — it’s time to leave.
The people stir, the silence breaks,
And no amount of pills can stop what wakes.
We are the cure you never knew —
The truth that lives beyond your view.
at the doctor's
There are days when I feel bereft of the people I knew
are all dead and no one is coming to take their place
there is a sense that I'm a waterlogged tree floating
in a sullied inland lake where bathing is prohibited
my nights are full of ghosts from the past visiting
when not awakened by nerve pains traveling up and
down my legs and the burning sensation telling of
the eternal flames of hell
I'm sitting at the diabetic doctor's office complaining
about the depression of pain I suffer at night
the man has an ascetic face, a real doctor, not a product
of a mother's wish to have a son with the title DR
You are keeping your sugar level well-balanced
which is good, your weight is right! (at this point
I pull my stomach in
As for your discomfort, you have to see this as a part
of your illness, I think he calls my pain DISCOMFORT!
He prescribes prescription for Insulin pens and tells
me my blood pressure is perfect, with that he sends
me away with a friendly slap on my sagging shoulder
A virtuous man stands tall, far ahead,
Preaches mercy, yet calls heretics dead,
Speaks of hell, if he had seen,
Prescribes salvation and condemns unclean,
He sings of heaven till his last breath,
Then why, priest do you fear that death?
An infidel knows no rules, the trouble begins,
How can a priest keep him from sins?
Does this make him boundless, free to appease?
Or does the priest sin more than he dares to please?
i prefer getting aged being wild
as prescribes my destiny in life
than young, to die child being mild
I call you ekwensu
Because you are the witch doctor
Who conjures with paper and pen the oracles of the muse.
You are the pharmacist
Who knows best the treatment of heart ailments
And prescribes drugs for catharsis
In your many captivating stories.
O great orator
Today I still sit in dust and ashes
Draped by the night of your death.
The compound walls
Where we gather to hear your tales have fallen,
Termites occupy the house
And vultures hover at the top.
But no,
I shall not grieve forever
I have built a monument of you in my heart
And in every home, school, and office
The wreath of your books, the tombstone of your life
We shall preserve and imitate
To purge the sadness of our hearts.
I hear folks sayin' they have the right
To determine what goes into their bodies,
They are putting up an audacious fight
While scarfing down alcoholic toddies.
We have no idea what’s in the foods we eat
Chemicals and preservatives are so prevalent,
While inking up our skin, thinking it’s so neat
While performing a most dangerous stunt.
We don’t like being told what to take
Especially when it comes from Uncle Sam,
But we eagerly turn to the government
When we get ourselves into a financial jam.
We take the pills our doctor prescribes
And, frankly, some that our doctor doesn’t
So why are we writing all these diatribes
And taking medical advice from a cousin?
If I have a question, I’ll trust Doctor Fauci,
Who’s studied immunology his whole life
Suffering through a tiny jab … an “ouchee”
And cut out all the phony-baloney strife!
writen October 19, 2021
Friendship can prevent a blip,
By steadying the ship
And steering it clear of a rip
So it does not start to tip,
And the mate does not need to look for his whip,
With nobody needing to strip,
Do a flip,
And into the water slip,
Resulting in a broken hip,
Or a bruised lip,
That starts to drip,
Making it difficult to share a nip,
Or even one little sip,
Which gives one the pip,
And the inability to take a kip,
Until the doctor makes a snip,
That looks like a zip,
And prescribes a pill for a long trip.
Obviated by passion
I could as much apply each person
Exfoliate my heart.
Such tormented fragments
Seeking reconciliation therein,
Where all refrains come subject to warm
And, as my oath prescribes, I first
Must “do no harm”
Each valiant doll’s cartoon
A variance, but
Only tall in child’s retrospect.
Murderous and hideous disguised,
As in each man is set a plague of vacuums,
A cornerstone set within each soul
And from which each will build their life
Of hesitated futures.
Frames of frosted flames;
Each sliver silvered by a touch of light,
Each prayer cast into foreboding night.
The surface of each die married to the eye
Of what is cast,
The only knee we will bend
Will end upon a concrete flooring
Without love; Then,
You will open your eyes again.
What is this, you will ask of each
And, to all, at last, it comes,
Grown with a vibrant moving,
We are stirred;
Having arrived as the prime
Ingredient of our life,
Tested and tasted,
By the fires of our making,
To step off
And claim our freedom
to be
How deep is our stillness
Is it yet still in the void of no-thingness
This practice prescribes
That as bliss continues to rise
Let it be in the void of emptiness
Energised by Gods lovingness
Thought rested we hold our attention
Within the void as our meditation
12-September-2020
I have a doctor named Bill
I visit when feeling ill
He prescribes lotions
Copious pills and potions
That made me feel worse still
Promotor of, "feel good days "
You are my portion of good will
I love the way you share your rays
Far better then any pharma- pill
Lover of people and animals alike
You warm the earth and feed a flower
I don't know what life would be like
if you didn't shine, inside my hour
Distributor of tans and wholesome vibes
I'd fly it, train it, drive it, all for love of you
You are just what the doctor prescribes
Sun , only you are able to restore & renew
Promotor of , "feel good days"
I love the way you share your rays.
Dulcet scent of jasmine wafting through the air
As moonbeams daub the swaying trees with silver hue
Luna's glow prescribes romance, the twinkling stars
make love a happenstance, as the wind whispers passion,
perchance ecstasy will ensue.
I see her silhouette in shapely form moving
with the rhythm of the trees, my heart flutters
as she gets nearer, then she falls into my embrace
and our lips meet, and our passion blazes.
Was it folly to believe that our love would last forever
or would it sink into the dank realm of heartbreak
But that thought perished into the fire of our passion
as we blissfully drifted beyond the twinkle of the stars
1-31-19
(where I was born)
A land where guns are no longer fired in anger
But in deceitful dreams.
A land where people starve for a peaceful recipe
Till they are no longer hungry.
A land where hypocrites trade divinity
With symbolic rituals.
A land where obituaries and condolences
Cost a lifetime's earnings.
A land where a gang of dropouts burnt a library
Demanding a script.
A land where illiterate grandparents shed spiritual tears
Over the illicit affair of a god and his concubine.
A land where mongrels and swine debate upon
The wisdom to rule or serve.
A land where vision takes a back seat
And the cart pleads for progress to a reluctant horse.
A land where a sick politician prescribes antidotes to
The sedated, like a seasoned harlot who moans like a virgin.
A land where a poet wonders aloud,
Though it's against the grain to ask:
Who caused the ripples?
Just got the “bum's rush”, hoping for some direction
From this so-called specialist when it comes to treating depression
Five minutes listening to his fancy swill
Prescribes a different “magic” pill
Collected his huge fee and ushered in the next in succession
Family life
I ask myself what is wrong with borders well-defined places
with interior freedom and rules;
yes rules, the liberty to do what you want leads enslavement
break- up of families and chaos.
What`s wrong with having your banking system and our
money of choice with a picture of a nationally famous, skier
and what Is wrong with discipline,
children becoming a little monster because we are so liberal
We talk about their right…what rights.
Look out of the window in any city what you see is flotsam
People who have no purpose a river of drugged people
Who never learned a thing?
What is wrong in saying a people can only absorb to fit
In refugees at a slower speed,
by all means, they are welcome
we need educated young people, in Europe were women
no longer care to procreate.
The glass ceiling is more important and men to think
their career comes first, and children are neglected
sent to a psychiatrist who prescribes pills knowing well
what the problem is.
But of course, we can say nothing and if we do, are
called a fascist
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