Short Pound Of Flesh Poems

Damned when we do, damned when we don’t,
the end works out the same

As love demands its pound of flesh
—the lion never tamed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
‘Inspired By Daniel Turner’
...

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To forgive
is divine so
they say,
and if asked we'd
not have it any
other way.
But when
wrong is done
to us
then we fuss.
Instead of
forgiving others,
keeping our friendships fresh,
we
want our pound of flesh!


09/19/2018
Human Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh...

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I do not want to work no more
The taxman knocking at my door
He wants his pound of flesh
But I want a life afresh

I do not want to have to do
Something I dont want to do
Half my life for someone else
The other half left on the shelf

I do not want to spend my time
Being on the old bread line
I want to do the things anew
Dont you...

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In a distended reality
  the Buddhists were right,
  but pointed they were wrong

A metaphor chosen
  to soothe and delight,
  but our choices a different song

Transcendent revelation
  a spiritual ideal,
  as today takes its pound of flesh

The totality of being
  the noblest of causes
  —when the moment demands no less

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2018) 
...

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The social curiosity on display
A pound of flesh becomes the pray
I rather swing from the gallows,
Then be sold like a pound of beef
Fat and plump from all this wealth
Thy corpse displayed in this filth
Flies and maggots wait for thee
Justice is hungry for people of greed
Supply and demand shall decide my fate
Yes, a wealthy man, without a need
Burn thy flesh and cleanse thy soul, 
Indeed, I was consumed by greed
...

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From friends to filigree
They all agree
You shattered my heart
I played the fool
And did my part
I allowed your games 
From the start
A pound of flesh
In hopes of a new start
A chance to refresh
For all the cupids in heaven
Could not bring us back together
Or settle the score and make it even
All in all I forgive you not
You stole my dignity and left me in a knot
For that I hope there is a special place in hell
For you to rot...

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How can I say I'm ready to work
When with each tick of the clock
On my head sleep will knock?

Making efforts to be productive
Yet nothing to achieve
'Cos the senses are restive.

How can I say I'm good to go
How I wish so though
When sleep rocks me so?

Sleep has come for it's pound of flesh
An idea my body parts relish
'Cos it's lack is making me feel feverish.

But how can I sleep 
When in work I'm supposed to be deep?
How I wish from this sleep I can slip!...

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Angolan Shipyard
Portuguese Courtyard
Slaves
Indentured servants of
Black seed

Sadist sovereignty 
Dutch property
Animals
Herded into a treasure chest
Of disease

Shackled humanity
Shipwrecked Christianity
Excess 
Baptized on the bottom
Of the sea

Altered Destiny 
English colony 
1619
Stock on a manifest
Of greed

Work your land
Savage not man
Bartered
A pound of flesh for
A crown overseas

Sold by brethren
Held by heathens
Caimile
Your daddy was 
Born free
...

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No more tears for that which has departed
No endings for that which has not started
The knife is in the skin, yet no bleeding
Why shed tears? When tears we are not needing
Drinking her bath water tasting so pure
Using your vice, as her bait and her lure
Drugs not taken, is the rapture of death
In evry tear, evry laugh, evry breath
No passions to give, no feeling to show
Bottled up emotions, never let go
A pound of flesh for a trip to heaven 
No more tears, since nineteen ninety seven...

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