This is a haiku
Trying to make a monkey
Out of me and you
Who’s being unkind
When pandering all the lies
Thoughts that fossilize
No one has any
Transitional evidence
Is it common sense?
All we know is that
When we find bones in the dirt
Is it died some time
We cannot know if
It had any offspring that
Lived because it died
Evolutionists
Confuse all the evidence
We all see in time
Assumption gumption
Has no real conjunction
It’s obscurity
Assuming also
Makes a monkey’s ass out of
Us all in the Fall
But which faith saves face
It seems there’s a commitment
Yes we all have faith
Faith in God Who saves
Or in a chance blind process
That ends in the grave
There’s no hope today
Evolution kills all grace
When God’s plan is aped
But there’s hope today
From this monkey heresy
Jesus sets us free
P.S.
Are we nothing more
Than a monkey's uncle, or
A carbuncle's lore?
Rhetorically
That's not who you and I are
Or dust from a star
P.S.S.
Satan is the sieve
To sift all those who believe
Jesus reprieve us
Let me ask you man
Are you an orangutan
Sir, I don't fling so
The struggle within
The struggle with sin
The world, Satan and the flesh
Behind the parapet is where they mesh
So I ask to all those
who have been sinning
How can anything be before
"In the beginning"?
So I ask rhetorically what's older than
the Judeo-Christian narrative?
Is it the Hammurabi text
or some other imperative?
We are our own enemies
We all bring things preconceived
But there can be only one truth
For sure the Trinity can be believed
We are not all Clark Kent
running for the booth
But we should all be looking
(as a sleuth) towards The Truth
As the world stands on its giant feet
To give support to the earth
I wonder why the world is always difficult
Every day, new acuity upon new acuity
And each struggling to be the bona fide one
What a world we are living in!
Sometimes, I rhetorically asked myself
Is it a world of burden
Or a world of peace and tranquillity?
Why can’t we come together as one?
Alas! My beloved people
Why are we striving so hard
To besmirch one another?
Why can’t we live in solidarity
And avoid all this segregation?
As we are civilised human beings
Boon companions we should be, but not foes
Or even to abhor one another
So happy and agog I would be
If the whole world amalgamates as one
To stop the mayhem, the shooting and the looting.
Oh ye mighty hurricane, storm, or gale,
I cannot say, that I can e'er endorse
the means by which you make your will prevail,
depending as you do upon your force.
Indeed, you just destroy the young and frail,
as your wild, brutal tempest runs its course.
Young tender saplings grow into strong trees
'neith the sun, swaying in a gentle breeze.
Youth mentor with a message to convey,
do you find that your voice is growing tired?
Your heavy-handed tactics will not sway?
The odd way we human beings are wired,
it's joy to help a child find her own way,
and so, I've rhetorically inquired,
"What's more effective than a harsh command?"
- the gentle guidance of a helping hand.
“Why is it called a toothbrush?”
(he asked rhetorically)
as I use it to brush more than one
it makes no sense to me
surely 'teethbrush' would be correct
for dental care and gums
so from now on that's what I'll use
to remove food residue between my teeth
while I still have some
Dearest reader, I have many secrets
But I wont tell you now, I'll wait till you're older
Heavens know I have many regrets
But I wont tell you now, please wait till I'm bolder
There are many things about me you dont know yet
But I wont tell you niw as you rhetorically cry on my shoulder
There is a version of myself you havent met yet
But I wont show you now, for she's angry, much darker...colder
I dont know if I'll tell you when your tears have dried
Or when you no longer cry
I'll tell you my secrets but maybe when you're wiser
Though it might take a little longer
For I dont want to be a bother
Till then you can cry on my shoulder
While I pretend to be stronger
i am cupid of ireland
i came to ridicule women into the grave
to be rhetorically relevent to juliet is not plausable
you are tly the last of america, the confident mailbox of your ass
gets passed, like trash beneath my sheets, hoodat?
thats a poser, white trash ballet, think so?
gimme nothing like udder against, my title, bout less
kickers in the mules acres of disease
con't grow out you face, enough laid
brittle pickles, her daddy's lies
This is your Garden of Eden
It’s a garden that needs weedin’
And it needs seedin’
To get you Heaven ready
This is Satan’s offering
Offering you to sin and skip the drossing
(He offered Christ a shortcut to His crossing)
To get you [not Him] Hell ready
Once able to choose the good or evil freely
Now only able to choose the evil freely
With Father, Son and Spirit completely
We will be Heaven ready
This will be your Garden of Eden
It’s a garden (no need of weedin’)
No need of seedin’
You will be firmly planted in the good freely in eternity
P.S. Where was Adam he should've led her
Do you think you could've done better?
(Not metaphorically I ask it rhetorically)
Of course no one could've done better
Only one Man and for our sake
Can save us from (not Bob Seger's) Fire Lake
Age has taken a sobering toll
On my imagination
I no longer think illogically
Just logically, and rhetorically
I never have an answer
A rocket never reached the moon
By dreaming About the cost
And wars, I'm sure, have been fought
For logical reasons
Of course war, in a sense, is illogical
Because who wants all that loss?
I want to think that anything is possible
I want to believe in super men
Cause maybe if I do
Or you, and everyone else does too
It could become the truth
she was literally
a literal being of
poetic history a
true muse if ever
there was one be
cause hang on
let the ride
begin but i
was beg
ging like a pig
eon just give
me something
scrape your plate
for scraps even
a bread crumb
then a
camel
stepped
through
the eye of
a needle and
poof
she
gave me
everything
There have never been a day
as dark as yours
There have never been a night
as sleepless as yours
Let those who mourn mourn aloud
For this is a time to cry
Let those who weep weep aloud
Till their voice are dried
I heard some strangers killed your sons
I heard your daughters are been raped
I heard they've blackened your suns
And left you in a sticky mud of pain
I heard your husbands did not return
Since they went to their farms
I heard your wives were been stabbed
Trying to save their own yams
I heard you died for cows to live
Conjugated into a shell of death
I heard for a single cow's head
Nine or ten of you go down the earth
Yet I heard your were beaten by a stick
I wonder what stick it could be
Oh! its the new herdsmen sticks
That has bullets in it
Curse be the strangers that killed you
Prophetically I speak
Why have they chosen to kill you
Rhetorically it seems
Like a river flowing slow
My body is growing old
Metabolism slows, energy is
Getting low where did my
youth go
It's been said wisdom comes
With age though I don't consider
Myself a sage
I do try to share with others
What I've learned And I've learned
this one thing for sure
Like a river flowing slow
My body is growing old
And I ask myself rhetorically
Where did my youth go?
Chewing on Mid life's gooey taffy blues
I stand in my mid-fifties wondering where
My youth has gone
Looking back with aging eyes
Pondering how time so subtly
Slipped by I realize growing
Older has its own set of joys
The cherished memories I retain
The precious moments I now walk in
Oh how blessed I am to have
Made it this far in life
So like a river flowing slow
Through my later years I'll go
Smiling happily while I grow old
Thankful for each new day I behold
I remember when
we asked about the quality of schools
before buying a house.
Now we know,
whether house shopping or not,
the educational outcomes will not be good
however better some than most,
yet now we need to ask about the quality of the local police department
before selecting a house
where they might prefer battering rams to open doors
over a more civil knock,
might prefer shooting to asking questions.
I remember when
we asked how liberating from wars
and violence
and oppression
our political candidates could imagine
and rhetorically explicate,
hope to promise.
Now we too seldom hope
for such vision of lofty and deeply rich heights,
and we need to ask the Government Economic Analysts
how many more will lose basic health and safety care-receiving,
because we cannot choose to care for all
in the latest version
of the virulently fascist anti-health bill.
Rosette tapestries of unparalleled glamour
Embroided thoroughly by the wittiest clamor
Magnanimously amorous in grace and wonder
Bewitching and charming though so yonder
Rhetorically out bounding my frugal thoughts
To be "irresistible", my flawless pure cause
Starlight's amiss your ornate romantic spell
Driving me sweetly to madly deep to compel
Handful of metaphors and highfalutin words
Illuminating. Inspiring. Invigorating.
Incubating anyone with one unique style
Wonderful, beautiful, matchless, they foretell
Vividly inventive and bombastic with each stroke
To hardened hearts, you can surely start to stoke
Erratically tender enough to adagio break the silence
Drawing anyone for more and more to your essence
by:
olive eloisa
2:54 pm
Revised April 24, 2014
CONTEST: ANY POEM #24
Sponsor: POET DESTROYER A
3RD PLACE
On the table
The candle sputters
Flame flickers
Almost guttering
But does not die
At the table
A heart yearns
Tears form
As hope fades
She cries inside
At the table
A rhetorically thought
He’s not coming
How cruel
She dies inside
At home
Her heart aches
Her spirit breaks
She drains the glass
And she dies
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