I found myself in Japan,
somewhere on a highwire-bridge,
balancing two feet in a haze.
More than two feet above the solid ground, way up high.
My eyes dart to and fro. Where I started from, I don’t know.
In a country, not my own. Travelling with eyes shut.
I’m with someone - my spouse?
In a dream with forgotten baggage,
it seems - do I remember this clearly?
Clearly not, as I’m told to roll over,
and by the way I pressed the snooze
button half an hour ago, or
I’d not progressed over that bridge without rails and eyes.
Somewhere in Japan - having no idea where I am.
I woke up thirty minutes later, back at home.
I roll out of bed, instead of onto my side,
pushing the sheets, pillows, my spouse
aside for the coffee cup, wondering why
I remember this dream where I left my feet and my eyes.
Is there really a bridge of this sort - how can I find it?
Where did I leave my baggage? Back at home with all my clothes?
Who needs more clothes when you are who knows where?
My mind seems topsy-turvy, as if I’m three sheets to the wind.
It is not a puzzle worth solving; stirring cream in coffee. The end.
Trapped within the soil
Told stories filled with turmoil
Carrying the weight of black history
But it honours their memory
By always remembering
By never forgetting
Soaked by the tears of the enslaved
Waiting, hoping, praying to be saved
The ground an unknowing witness
To them being worked to death
But in awe of their perseverance
Throughout the years
One thing that remains clear
To the soil is that just because things have progressed
Doesn't mean life for black people is perfect
Racism still exists
It went from slavery to incarceration
To it being prevalent throughout the system
Racism just evolved through each generation
We the soil see everything
And hold the key
To untold black stories
Once we were hunter-gatherers
tribes grouped outdoors
before the days of yore
now we're hunt and peckers
each cooped indoors
on personal computer keyboards
and way back when
we'd communicate
banging on the drums
yes since then
we've progressed
today we're all
fingers and thumbs
The mantle gleans a life,
all your friends are ochre in moods
A picturesque while too imminent a grasp,
loyalty burns many gone too soon
This ramshackle house,
hidden beneath recondite changes
A picture of the trendy girl from ‘65,
a telling smile amongst sages
You keep music closer than family,
every note reads your mind
I wish you were real again, a waking picture
Reminding me ‘’it costs nothing to be kind’’
Your rooms are estranged,
phobia fills all questions
Has the television static conversed?
Will your broken piano learn its lessons?
Mother, life has progressed in shapes
I am a fading place without a right
Blood of your mantle knows its safe,
to be ‘65 in sages light
So go to them. Find your friends.
Don’t keep them waiting
I will clean the house that is passing
Mother, your name is blazing.
In Your Shadow
you have
progressed and I
am in the shadow of
your eclipse. I am not sure I can
recover.
I watched you walk away that night
Then later had a dream
We were sitting in a sauna
Wearing robes while enshrouded in steam
Then one thing led to another
And soon it all quickly progressed
'Til we were only left standing enshrouded
I think you can figure the rest
I came to know how eternity feels like,
Oh!Darling!The day I saw you.
I have seen infinity like a never ending fall,
scared peepers following me everywhere,
as they don't know how binding your eyes are.
Someone as similar as you is none,
as if pledging you are one.
Still my senses keep playing me false,
I see so many of you almost uncountable,
let it be a secret to who's lying.
Those artistically sculptured hair of yours,
look like falling cherry blossoms on an enduring river.
Unknowingly I fell in an abyss,
as deep as the creation.
Oh!My lover!Words are used by mere creatures,
I find it impotent of giving my heart to you.
How far i fell,I loosly forgot the entirety.
Without you even the mighty moon,
showers glass shards on my bare soma.
How enchanting you are,
My divinity madly progressed to love.
A young man was walking on the beach
A bottled lamp washed up on shore
The young man was somewhat hesitant to touch
Yet curious was running on the young man’s mind
He picked up the lamp and started rubbing on it
Suddenly, a Genie popped out saying his name was PRESTO
The Genie stated he had been locked up on the lamp for years
The Genie also stated that the young man has three wishes
The young an didn’t know how to respond, and what wishes to make
Was this Genie genuine?
A thought on the young man’s mind
The young man wished for a designer suit
The Genie granted and a suit from a wish appeared
A wish that came through
The young man said he has two more wishes
He wanted muscles and be muscular
The Genie progressed another wish, and the young man was totally built and big
Now the Genie stated, “You have one wish left”
What do you wish for Master?
The young man wished for a large Mansion
Let us hope it is paid for and no taxes attached
A magic lamp having all magical possibilities
Do you believe in such magic or myth?
Pristine the canvas displayed before all
Begging color and stroke, a master's mind
Brush kisses pallete, intentions will fall
Pulse soars, paint flies, never leaves her behind
Lifetimes he progressed, alone and some not
Longing and barking for a soul his kin
Hunting and seeking, heartsick, for his lot
Familiar she is, something sharpend within
Teeth gnashing and gnarl grasping at his skin
A wild reunion, fangs gift, blood running
Embracing carnage and in love again
Hunter's moon, super, alive and howling
Never again part their fierce wilding ways
On mountains they rule in most just of days
So conservative the wild animals habits are
And the birds are behaving traditional
But there’s a one animal who’s gone too far
To show off he progressed from original
The results that were reached are impressive
No one dares to deny the Man’s genius
Man was destined to become progressive
Self-boasting and often fastidious
Though his tastes can be fickle at times
He owns one or two constant traits
He kills other men for the reason he likes
To get what he deserves, then he bates
So a Man seems a bit contradictional
In comparison to other animals
Whose behaviour still goes like traditional
Withing their own kind, they’re not enemies
Hear the Orangutan speaks to his son:
“Seen a man, then rush quickly to hide
They spoil what they touch, and they cease everyone
Man’s a killer, who haven’t yet died”.
Beta and the VHS
Could not be beaten years ago.
A childhood of watching tapes...
These were standard video.
Then throughout my teenage years
The DVD was made.
The quality was noticeable
Because of this upgrade.
Discs progressed over more years...
Along came the Blu-ray.
Evolution yet again
Of picture and display.
Ultraviolet and 3D...
Digital copies too.
Many ways to watch a film...
These are just a few.
These days, resolution lies
In glamourous 4K...
Up to four times better than
The typical Blu-ray.
From what I've heard of resolution
8K is the best.
I wonder how when the time comes
It compares to the rest?
Sunlit Windowpane
Is warming up
On words
One by one
As they progressed
With nature
On sunlit leaves
Adjacent bogainvalia
Petals. Leaves
Heavenly
There were some blue patches down below, swimming pools,
of course, I should have guessed, where the white man rules;
so dropping into nirvana - someone threw me a banana,
from the South Afirican jungle, that was Jo'burg not Ghana.
They wanted my expertise - how many times disputed,
invasion, theft, but maybe was before bias was rooted;
I know, things have changed but maybe for the worse,
and it might have been better if left with a wet nurse.
Progressed, armed with so-called understanding, landing,
in other 'plastic' places, all races but still misunderstanding;
I settled for usual where the backpackers panned and stand,
or rather bend under their load with invisible grains of sand.
A word of advice - deviate your position from men and mice,
take stock - about your plans because Blackpool may be nice.
He felt the Spirit dwelling in him in all its fullness.
Father had anointed him as the priest, and the sacrifice
He was to bring healing to those suffering from illness.
For the sins of humanity, he was to pay the price.
Is it not vital to save the humans who have not sinned?
Shouldn't those who have been born blind and gone blind gain their sight?
Should anyone, in body and soul, ever be enslaved?
Hearts liberated, shouldn't humans live in divine light?
As a prophet, he willingly heard the call of the times.
Though he witnessed red moons and blood scenes, he didn't back out.
Knells should end, he thought, and temple bells should peal with new chimes.
With valuations, values, like seeds in good soil, should sprout.
Convinced of his career, like a silent sage, he progressed.
Even the thorns that wished to pierce him, stood as though perplexed.
God made the Earth
the scriptures tell,
as day by day
and just as well.
For although he
might well have made
all his creations
in a day
A purpose there
most surely was,
in taking time
I think because
He wanted us
to understand
the principle
behind his plan.
For as his work
progressed in time,
each thing he made
was more sublime.
Thus, we should see
and comprehend,
as we consider
in the end -
Of all God made
both great and small…
a mother made he
last of all.
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