The Laws of Attraction
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you believe in the laws of manifestation
When I started writing poetry
I visualised being the best version of:
John Duffy Poet
I could be
So
Look up
John Duffy Poet
On your search engine
Of choice
Will you be surprised if I'm the first name you'll see?
The question is:
Did I manifest a top ranking via Poemhunter
Or do people like you, still like and explore poetry, and use it as your own regular form
Of self-psychiatry?
And sometimes enjoy
sitting under my supernatural vocabulary tree
And reading these strands and whispers
I conjure out of The Great In-Between
And label them as my version of inspired
Poetry
(C) Copyright John Duffy
The ship of dreams
Opulent surroundings
Fancy bed linens
Luxurious dinner plates and tablecloths
Gleaming virginal utensils
Dazzling crystal chandeliers
Polished walnut woodwork
Gold gilded fireplaces
Wardrobes ready for furs and dresses
An experienced captain
Eager staff
Bustling activity
Musicians, artists, businessmen aboard
High ranking officials, wealthy industrialists, celebrities
Cruising flawlessly in clear blue sea
A haven and heaven during the day
Easy sleeping and dreaming in the evening
J.P. Morgan was disappointed to have to cancel at the last minute
Four glorious days of sailing
Around Midnight April 15th, 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg
The chunk of devilry slashed a three-hundred-foot gash in the hull
Haphazard evacuation ensued
First lifeboat could have held sixty-five people
It left with twenty-eight
The dream ship broke in half after filling halfway up with water
In two hours fifteen hundred people died
The majority of them froze to death in the North Atlantic
Charlie was a gentleman
yielding to her wants;
always first to eat
jumped ahead in line.
Felisha was her name;
first, before he joined.
Ranking ruled her mind-
so he must obey.
Letting her steal treats
and his favorite lap;
passing him in halls
while bopping his head.
She died at thirteen.
He lived until twenty-
missing her so dearly.
Charlie was a gentleman.
Such a fate we all share, yes, every single one.
Set in stone and sealed, awaiting Kingdom Come.
However you may enter, each differential circumstance, the difference made is none.
Hands of a ticking clock strike the hour, declaring that time Living here will have reached its end, and our final day be done.
Resting besides those unfortunate less fortunate souls.
Riches remain within rich pockets of inheriting soles, unlike others whose feet are bare and are cold, stand firm on the earth you now lay beneath.
Families of both either benefit or wealth, share eyes the colour red as they heavily weep, the same sadness and the same feelings of heart-aching grief.
Blood bled and bleeding red, layering cuts skin deep, choosing one's self-choices, and ranking bestowed upon by society, mean nothing once we sleep.
To Kingdom Come, shall our destination be ironclad, placing our final sitting seat.
Opposite living and separated by morality.
Yet each for a loved one is waiting to reunite with, and again cross paths they will meet.
One would wonder how the West came to the interiors
of Africa:
For whether it was the first time or so many a time in the
past.
And if it was true about the former, like the West would
almost carter for another view of the world, another views
yes, it seems like the world is ranking of hierarchy from
the top to bottom, somehow like a blossoming flowers,
somehow like a very active elements?.
Now, is it not at least a legacy or political whims or
monster or dragon or willy-nilly?.
Farther bend down the history is a view or wish or hope
strange tonight or how are these things sigh or doth
ballad? somehow like the world will echo in memory
and love and something?.
Yes, imagine somehow forget- me - not or rose or her
bosom, even a merer, merer, merer whims.
High ranking General George S. Patton.
His mission the enemy to flatten.
To his troops he exclaimed without blinking,
If everyone is thinking alike, then someone isn’t thinking.
Take a church full of sinners with issues galore,
each needing profoundly the grace of the Lord.
Some trapped in addiction, some weighed down in sin,
some struggling with faith, some who tried but gave in.
Some filled with anger and some with regret,
some who cannot forgive, but there’s one group I fret -
the judgmental crowd. They make it so tough,
thinking they have no sin or that they’re good enough.
And I wish that were all but it’s not for I find,
they poison the whole for they’re willfully blind.
Doing all that they must to protect the charade,
ranking sins amongst others and handing out shame.
Handcrafting a culture that turns out to be,
in direct opposition to what sinners need.
A place to be open, a place to confess,
a place to find comfort, a place to find rest.
A place to find Christ and the healing He gives.
A place to start over, but somehow this lives
in the culture of church after church I observe.
I guess human nature just can’t be deterred.
For it seems to be common despite where I go -
the part poisons all, no one stops it and so
the judgmental crowd wins and history repeats
where they end up the only ones… left in the seats.
China has two martial arts-styled Mantis,
--just a form. A Morphinae enchants us,
a mammoth butterfly, a pearlescent
spirited blue, bewitching, heaven-sent.
Menelaus blue morpho's induced hues
are by the wing's backs wee mirrors that cues
acquaintances of its presence. Aura
is genteel though acts like a Pandora
for its natural foe, the Jacamar
that shares its habitant courses. All-star
of its genres ingrained constitution
made weak, threatened by human expansion
that misstates the authentic ranking of
the whole world down, to our floaters of love.
With their high viz jackets
And size 12 boots
Custodial hats
And Neatly pressed suits
From high ranking officers
To the men on the beat
Who all took an oath to protect the streets
With honour and without malice they swore to serve
but some abused these vows by being perverse.
Blue flashing lights illuminate the sky
as women walk home alone at night
weary of the officers that pass them by,
frightened and nervous,
haunted by Memories of their horrific crimes.
Crimes inflicted by the hands of evil
men who are narcissistic, twisted and deceitful
the likes of
Adam provan,David carrick and Wayne couzens there’s many more like them in fact there’s still dozens
Who signed up to the force to use these laws
For their own personal gain
and to take advantage
Wreak havoc on society
and cause untold damage
with no remorse shown for their victims or family’s.
A force people are now worried to trust.
With a public opinion close to eruption.
Because of the sinister acts of officers,
Who used their warrant cards
to assert their corruption.
Continent of Africa has
More best green cities
As other continents
And some of African cities
Are ranking in the world.
You always welcome
To any African country and
You will not be disappointed.
Don't mind about how some media
Portraying Africa badly
to paralize African tourisms.
Don't mind some negative people
Who keep speaking bad About Africa
here and there
As they found challenged by
its natural beauty.
June 21st /2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
The end of the year.
The pope is dead, no, not him, but the old one
who liked wearing red hats
There he was, driving his VW around the alps
advancing slowly through the clerical ranks
and suddenly, he was a pope.
Many things happen at the end of this year
a famous Haute Culture woman died a dame
Surely, she must have been surprised so much
fame unasked for.
Don’t mention the war!
A low-ranking officer in a secret service end
up a leader of a big country, powerful
like a dictator going to war against windmills.
Not his plan when as a spy walking the night
in Amsterdam.
A very aged man becomes the president
of the USA, going through the political ranks
showing us that mediocrity always pays
and lies win in the end.
Tonight, millions of people will fill the streets
watching fireworks lit up the night sky
Anodyne, you say, I’m not so sure if in doubt
ask the people of Ukraine
So, hold tight let the new year commence
wishing a happy birthday to the unborn year.
Oooooooh bagels and bread by golly
Rumors and ramekins, fools folly
This attitude aggregious
But a knick knack fecicious
Hold a tick, did you say napkins?
Not for glass jars and captains
A twist off jammed and stuck in a rut
Threads on a screw doing all the scut
A nail has it easy
All smooth and goes in easy
But time and hammer gave a chance
As long as it was done in baggy pants
So a squid with a quiver
Full of arrows did deliver
Down the narrows did they float
But on a paddle not a boat
So he ate his breakfast fast
And wiped the ink off from a blast
Broke open the container
It's no crazier than saner
Built the shelter speedily
With headphones on greedily
Balanced atop a wooden oar
A raft, no no, just such a bore
Not very analytical
But we won't become political
Since it was a higher ranking tenticle
Who made the inky wooden popsicle
A little poem nonsensical
Where sense is reprehensible
the valley of horror
On my way to the shops in the charming one horse
town called Benafim, I took a shortcut through
a narrow valley like a mensur scar in a high ranking
German officer’s cheek
When down, I regretted my rash idea, airless and still
no birds sang there, and no rabbits crossed the path
sharp floret bushes ominously murmured veiled threats
The trees were pale and long since deceased.
The sun didn’t reach fully here; deep shadows were
dark, murderous spooks waited, the soil was rusty
the blood of those who didn’t find the way out.
I froze and sweated, the track appeared endless and
my dog had disappeared.
Finally, at the exit, I ran the last 50 meters, the dog
waited for me, sensible she had taken the old road.
I was told by the villagers no one walked the there
a massacre from a war forgotten the evil continued.
I was Number One who fell for Jazz,
Other Genres ranking Razzmatazz
No finer sacrifice in Hard Rock;
If you demeaned Jazz, my gun I’d cock…
I laud the Great Lot Yanni’s Jazz has;
Bob’s keyboard that conveys one to Mars:
Waiting for me sweet complexity,
The path to it A Perplexity!
Rhythms from Experimental Minds:
Their demands The Gifted Player finds…
Rather American African
Than ‘Thought African American,’
US Citizenship not acquired
By players quite sure not required…
Jazz for announcing Tough Movies,
Romance promoting more than Grooves;
To Bad War Films A Salvaging Hype,
Each one of them made to seen one’s type…
Time to herald the sweat of Bob fames
By me rated above River Thames.
??CHAMPION AGAIN!!!
Common oath with the Gold,
She's two decades old,
Browny hair, tough skin dark toned,
Tobi's horse-wheel pull a two wheeled cart,
Breaks another record and grease our heart.
Some placed a bet before it starts.
Good wager wins if played smart
Cos Tobi's stare told me of a driving force within,
An undiminished thrust to always win
And with an urge not just to take part,
She ran like Sonic right from the start.
Before this tournament no one gave her the nod.
Reasonable humans adapt themselves to the world:
The unreasonable ones persists
in trying to adapt the world to themselves.
Tobi Amusan adapts the world of Commonwealth to herself.
Fills with quids, laurels & accolades her account & shelf.
This Nigerian Speed Queen achieved the unreasonable
And boost our ranking on the medal table.
Champion again, as she keeps bursting our bubbles,
Won Gold again in the Women's 100m Hurdles
With a record 12.30secs in the Birmingham 2022.
Now she has conquered the world & claim laurels too!
Congratulations ???? ???????????
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Copyright©7thAugust2022.
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