He is a good man with morals
He takes good care of his wives
He boasts about his wives a lot
Especially people's wives.
Our husband doesn't cheat says the wives
He's a responsible man with morals
Just but ten he married us
He promised not to marry again.
Our husband doesn't sleep at home
He said we scream a lot
He needs concentration for his work
So he sleeps in hotels of his choice.
What a wonderful man God gave us
He has seven secretaries for himself
Each tends to him when needed he said
Though we don't know what our husband does for a living. But we do know he works at night and doesn't sleep at home.
Car Handles
Car handles are
secretaries for
African National Congress.
What inspires us to write heart felt poetry
To divulge our innermost thoughts and feelings
It's certainly not to gain fame or fortune
Ever heard of a millionaire poet
Those two words are never uttered
In the very same breath
It's a proven fact poets don't write poetry
With the view of earning a fortune
Poets write poetry to satisfy an inner need
To create to inspire to motivate
That tug at the heartstrings
That bring sunshine to dullest of days
That express every day feelings
In a most poetic way
We know when the words just fall into place
That something special is about to happen
We don't need to wrack our brains
Our innermost being writes the words
We just dutifully record them
And sign our name at the bottom
We are secretaries of our soul
George W. Bush, so much maligned
for the economic collapse of 2008-09
Yet would that we today had his outstanding Secretaries of State
Colin Powell or Condoleeza Rice handling the M-E would be first-rate
___________________________________
'M-E' stands for 'Middle East'
Millenia sits within the golden round: generations in diamonds and a lineage in ruby.
Opulence, hand in hand with duty, flickers in candlelit banquets and the murmurs of treaties signed.
Noblemen and ladies in waiting, servants, secretaries and Beefeaters, swirl and meld together all,
Adding colours and contrasts, shades and hues to a timeless tapestry: a timeline regal and royal.
Ruler by blood, chosen by God - a hereditary right, role and responsibility shrouded in silk.
Conquering lands and chartering futures, brethren challenged by broken communions.
Head of vast nations protecting small villages, hands stretch over oceans that pat locals on the back.
Your history entwined with each Henry and Edward, James and Elizabeth both: a filigree ancestry.
Shut eyelids in duty-filled rooms
Instant graveyards make of busy offices:
A longing for robots to take over the brooms
Or complete the suspended notices!
Eyes are closed by wage-earners,
In their old jobs seeming accursed learners:
What, if their superiors’ sneaking visits happen?
Nearly all confidential files riskily open!
The secretaries’ bulging documents are sorting themselves out
And the bursting queues outside can’t repress a shout
Soon, angrily punching the air
Because the whole after is unfair
But only disfiguring the wind, not their problems
Staring back at the Christians and not sparing the Moslems.
They are all in there eyes courting deceiving dreams
And three or four waiters are about to beget a frightening crowd.
The sleepers’ snores betraying Satan’s hymns,
Gradually authority acquiring, progressively loud.
Sleeping on duty is detected,
When silence still answers the affected
Long after the bell for attention has been pressed
For the taker of neglectful rest.
One. Two Three.
Four Five Six.
Seven Eight Nine Ten.
Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen.
Go. Accommodate Groceries.
Solve Ill Trainers.
Go, Seal Obscene Modes.
Solve or Burn Therapeutic Affairs.
Im. Telling You.
Broccolis are good.
Yes I said that.
No I don't regret it.
Inspire! Intervene, Locate!
Goal System Definition.
Spiteful Harmonious Tidy Teeny-tiny.
Combine and Deserve Wealthy Secretaries
March 18 2020
In the lobby of the courthouse
People’s demeanor
Are such a telltale
Casual and comfortable
The secretaries
Determined and debonair
The lawyers
Focused and unperturbed
The judges
And then the others
With scowls on their faces
Nervousness and concern
The weight of accusation
The slow ominous pace
Of being led directly
To the slaughterhouse
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
If I could tell time that well I would be President, but wait!
Then I would not need to tell time.
If I was a doctor the nurses could tell me the time.
If I was a lawyer, I might need it but I do not want to be a lawyer.
The seven-year-old boy stared at his teacher.
You see, this telling time unit is a total waste for me.
I am going to be a self-made millionaire with secretaries for stuff like that.
She smiled at him.
As long as you are in my classroom, you are going to do this unit.
He resolved to never forget this.
To always hold a grudge.
And to shut down his mind to learning anything about telling time.
To this day he cannot tell time.
He does not need it.
Because he shut himself
off to other math units too
And reading units and spelling units.
He has sent out lots of resume’s, but
at forty-two, he still lives with his parents
who are glad to tell him the time.
Time to get a job.
Time to get off the couch.
Time to go to work.
"America will be great again" he always says
before his rallies and in the nasty tweets
How is that, me lord? Asked his secretaries,
by fingering the Pope's palm
And receiving the counterparts from the House backdoor
with no formalities to stage or hold,
Like stolen sheep never harbored unless they pay
I will build a great wall like the Chinese to make my name forever recalled
And banish the ******* states from the list of our subsidiaries,
non of such trash enters our White Great Abode,
And I'll do one more things all great men shrank to do
The gatherers look at each other; Oh Lord,
What's that big thing?
he winks at them; How do you want it?
A "Gentle Puff" or a "Releasing Valve"
A "Releasing Valve, me Lord" as the applause grows aloud
and all of a sudden his valve opens and his bang explodes
"I'll declare Jerusalem as the eternal capital for Jews"
The audience shouts out
Drown out the noise with a louder one:
A MAAAAZING GRAAAACE
A poem by Lateef Shareef Dhmayd
Trumpity Dumpity
sat on his Wall.
Dumpity Trumpity
had a Great Transitional Fall.
All the King's Secretaries
and all his White patriarchal men
couldn't put his sociopathological administration
climate health together
truly democratic again.
Why was Donald John
closer to his depressed Press Secretary
than his Secretary of Defense?
Because
he took his Press Secretary
as his best fake-news defensive offense
and his primary goal was to fool
all the bipolar fundamentalist monoculturing people
all our dipolar revolutionary cooperative Time.
And,
he thought
his Secretary of Defense
was his Secretary for Oppositional Offensive Defiance
against polyculturing Grace
and Positive WinWin karma of cooperations,
against love and health and multiculturing WinWin
ecotherapeutic sacred life
and secular healthy climates
of and for LeftBrain egotherapeutic
Yang downsizing
Original Intent
of Yin's WinWin optimally flowing
health defense.
And he remembered
he said he was against affordable health care
actions of predecessors,
so he must be for
pathological mismanagement.
glorious black cloud
met with glorious white cloud
a unique meeting it was
agenda did not exist
secretaries could not attend
as it was a meeting of the clouds
black cloud’s book was the heart
white cloud’s book was the head
meeting was without speech
they met and talked
things humans cannot know
but outcome pelted subjects’ lives
eternally the clouds are right
nowhere to appeal decisions made
subjects have to bear life of burdens
While I'm not so sure
I would go so far
as to exchange our WhiteHouse Prince
with our homeless shelter Paupers,
I would support
a matriarchal unlobbied petition
that our WhiteHouse Prince
could best reside in nearby resonant shelters
where he will find all the advisers
and secretaries
and counselors
he may need,
and more,
about what not to do
to further offend
those who could never afford
even a part-time lobbyist,
much less an ecopolitical therapist.
A Prince among Paupers
is what I patriotically seek
to relearn by listening
to Mother Earth's hard cooperative lessons
in what is a cultural climate of and for health
and what are failing economic landscapes of pathology,
disinvestment away from well-sheltered regenerativity.
We were jaunty children of God
not concerned for material possessions
for Spirits in Holy Trinity
were our Gods.
The Colonists were true savages without souls.
They disowned their own souls for gold
from which we made our large ornaments
for the glory of Great Spirit.
I Art have seen the Highest Priest,
The Resurrected One.
The Popes are his secretaries,
the apostles of mercy and love.
The Resurrected One calls his forgotten children,
each one by their true name of baptism.
Many were baptized by water
and many were baptized by The Holy Spirit.
Come to me, you tired and exhausted,
you grieved by other man.
I’ll give you new life as God the Father gave it to me.
You will repose in justice and love.
You will be my spotless lambs
forever and ever.
I am your shepherd the Lamb of God –
The Resurrected Christ.
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