Agree to call a spade a spade
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The Left and Right today
Are like East and West,
Different worlds that never shall meet,
Or if they do meet
Won’t hear or understand much
Of the other anyway.
Each is in a bubble,
Comfortable and secure.
The difference is,
And it’s a difference that makes all the difference,
One bubble is based in LaLa Land
While the other is at least grounded in truth,
As dirty and ugly as that sometimes can be,
Yet a truth that can at least call a spade a spade,
And not have to nervously glance over its shoulder
To see if someone thinks that’s somehow racist.
Shovels matter after all
In fact where would our civilization be
Without them?
And yet in our world today
Only half of us are needed,
And it’s always, never
The other half.
(8/16/25)
In ghazal all my thoughts I pen cannot,
In plain palpable words explain cannot.
I loathe many a thing in this woke world,
All I dislike, detest, disdain cannot.
Yes, oft if not always I show feelings
But spell cannot, pretend or feign cannot.
I can call spade a spade, even shovel,
When it comes to pen, call it sane cannot.
It’s too late to change the man born long ere,
What God has given not regain cannot.
___________________________
Ghazal | 19.08.2025 | poem, pen, poet
Note: Let me add here: and whatever I well can, the poetry site let me cannot.
To hell with your hollow benediction.
Faulty.
Water shivers as the brass bell
just rings.
Drivel never comes from the soul.
Empty.
It’s blasphemy to be so utterly void
of fact.
I’m going to call a spade a spade..
Sinner.
Someone asked us how we began,
in as what was our truth search plan
and the path to which we were drawn
to perform a consciousness scan?
We sleep when we’re prompted to yawn,
awaking to vibrance of dawn,
table laid for joy readymade,
soul transforming as life flows on.
Let us then call a spade a spade,
saying God’s always at our aid,
which we know not, for we’re in thought,
assigning our ego a grade.
In strobes of love and light we’re taught,
recognised if heart be not taut,
for which if we befriend the void,
we’ll frolic carefree as we ought.
No longer then by mind decoyed,
childlike heart pure and unalloyed,
lighting the lamp of love within,
God’s grace ignites our head ovoid.
Life is a dream, know there’s no sin.
Breath by breath let’s anew begin.
God dwells in the cave of our heart.
He calls to us; plunge in therein.
I have a sweet friend,
I cannot see
Who has become so dear to me,
We have similar points of view
Share a sense of humour, too,
I admire her for her wit and charm,
honest opinions
Without causing harm
To those who disagree
She is compassionate and wise,
Kindness flows from her clear eyes.
She likes to call a spade a spade,
That is why our friendship stayed
And will until,
Time stands still.
Time is catching up with me,
I am much older than she.
If I seem to be going off the track
It is just a matter of fact
Age is just a number,
Not an issue,
My friend and I
Have never met
She is invisible to me
It would be lovely to meet
And chat endlessly over a cup of tea
Sadly, this cannot happen
As we live miles apart
I do not need to see Deb M's face
As I can see it in her Heart.
Keep on writing your excellent poetry, Deb. X
Sensing a threat, move not a bit
Work not with a fear of failure in mind
Take not anything for granted
Accept not ever your defeat, untried
Try something new, ignoring routines
Smile more, the whole world smiles with you
Life is a progressive vehicle
Solutions are not found readymade
Live a happy and blissful life
Hope is the secret of survival
Line 1: Wait Not For a Hero
Line 2: Oasis in a Desert
Line 3: Goodbyes Play Their Part
Line 4: Call a Spade a Spade
Line 5: Letter to My Children
Line 6: Spreading Happiness
Line 7: Think For a While
Line 8: Face It
Line 9: A Kiss in the dark
Line 10: Hope
A tribute to Heidi Sands
This poetess writes poems of few words,
till the last line she holds the rhythmic cards,
where the fluent essence of her poems unfold
the tale of abandoned hearts that needs to be told.
The lattices of finesse of a word artist,
that on her mind’s expressive canvas persist,
shine in our time’s tapestry, her poems display,
carry the connotation of what she has to convey.
Life is so complex, but she loves simplicity,
in its cauldron she holds on to dreams quietly
to transmit what she thinks, for she isn’t afraid.
In narration never hesitates to call spade a spade.
Her verses that rhyme or don’t rhyme,
reflect her keen sensitivity to our trying time.
Its travails she sketches with the rhythm of poetry,
conveyed convivially by the muse of brilliant brevity.
To submit or to quit, that is the question!
Let’s call a spade a spade, not to be rude,
Some contests’ stipulations are quite crude,
It’s time to learn from errors of the past
And slam the needy judges’ tricks at last.
Don’t get me wrong, to challenges I stand
With my poetic musing on demand,
Yet reading contest rules, thorough and deep,
Oft my quivering quill begins to weep.
While my head spins and ink’s eager to spill
I begin to doubt if I ever will -
Weave thoughts to words together on the theme
Upon the requisitions of extreme.
I do eulogize the creative sense
Of judges’ hopes from our mighty pens,
Just don’t impede too hard on muse in use,
Let the great meandering minds run loose.
Last not least, what truly boils my bile -
When it’s a must to add a YouTube file,
First open the link, then share to embed,
By then my literary mind’s brain-dead.
("Creation Myth 101", 2018, original encaustic)
Make Believe and Crazy
A world gone mad
Upside down, inside out
And if you don’t like it
You must be a phobe.
Gaslighting's nothing new
But today it’s all the rage
In the name of a new religion
Of which thou shall comply.
But if you don’t
Where does that leave you
Old and in the way
Or ready to slit our wrist.
It’s all make believe and crazy
No longer's a spade a spade
Now it's whatever you choose
A hoe or rake by any other name.
Maybe that’s the condition of some
But it used to be
It wasn’t the delusion of all
Till asylum walls were overrun.
Now in the name of compassion
Everyone must drink
The Kool-Aid of confusion
Or else…”The doctor will see you now...”
(11/9/23)
So the heart murmurs and the kidneys fail,
The lungs draw wheezing breath as tedious chore,
The joints in every limb - feeble and frail,
The mind doesn’t remember anymore…
Yet somehow, something, somewhere out of sight,
Is full of joyous, everlasting light.
Now it is time to call a spade a spade
With the last winning trump card to be played.
As the ailing body mocks with grim grin,
As aging organs pull the faulty strings,
It feels the battle’s lost, fragile and thin -
Yet stroppy spirit sings on soaring wings!
Ego, not love, seeks vibrational match
for love is simply an effervescence
like yonder sun, lighting up each dark patch,
being quintessence of our soul’s essence.
Is not fickle love, that seeks a caress,
being dependent upon an exchange;
which if denied, soon begins to regress,
succumbing to cravings, our soul finds strange?
Love that is pure, is of the agape kind,
non-judging, all-embracing compassion,
a sublime radiance, no urge can bind
but perhaps such love is not in fashion.
If endearment be reduced to a trade,
deludedly, we assign love a grade.
Deludedly, we assign love a grade,
higher, if it gratifies our ego,
which is afraid to call a spade a spade,
need to be stroked, unable to let go.
As life unfolds and our consciousness shifts,
we may find that our interests diverge
but elixir of pure love, all hearts lifts,
radiating at all times, a bliss surge.
What matters at all times, is simply this,
that we see in our partner, divine light,
ensconced wherein, both our souls merge to kiss,
drenched in bliss mists, heightening heart’s delight.
Where love pulsates, there can remain no catch;
ego, not love, seeks vibrational match.
You say I’m made to be a spade but that just curls my wings
I sit here ready to scoop up the widest range of things
Scooping apples off the ground and thrusting them all forward
To where the wheelbarrow awaits as I denude the orchard
They say to call a spade a spade is honesty at work
I do not know who said that but he was a total jerk
For spades can dig a tidy hole as that is what they’re for
But I can dig a hole and I can do a whole lot more
So if you call a spade a spade, it isn’t quite a sin
But please accept that if you do, you may invert my grin
For mixing sand and gravel in a mix of three in one
Is something for a specialist, and I, indeed, am one
So grab my handle, use your foot to push me in the ground
Make a hole that’s very square or even one that’s round
But when it comes to flinging all that soil to one side
Only I can do it best for I’m so very wide
Time was when a cellar-man would use me scooping coal
And industry employed me as its furnace feeding soul
I’ll always fight my corner and I’ll state my case real loud
For I am no mere spade; I am a shovel and I’m proud!
The seeds of hatred, who has sown?
The winds of intolerance, who has blown?
The two deadliest snakes, so far unknown;
Like weeds in society, now they are grown.
Beware of these weapons aimed at you;
To your own self, you always try to be true.
Think not that things will change on their own;
Analyse the insults to which you are prone.
Accept not ever your defeat untried;
Let not slide a bit your personal pride.
Wage a war against every evil unafraid.
Is it a crime to call a spade a spade?
The desired Anti-Christ will have disciples
followers who carry guns and rifles
It's not known if they believe the lies
though evidence is before their ears and eye's
No matter who says it's not right
they want their way or else they'll fight
Their minions cower beneath in fright
counting votes beneath the light
Fearing not the Lord above
But paying homage to what they love
Truth and honor cannot exist
as long as their will we must resist
sence when is lyng an art
sence when did judges set not apart
sence when are laws set aside
or our Oath no longer a matter of pride
When the call is made to call a spade a spade
Dispight concerns of parties praise
And true Justice we find delayed
By lame dicisions a court has made
History eventually show hero's and villians
Heaven judges the wills of those forgiven
They seldom repent and reguard "not now"
They will not relent or disavow
They follow their lord with supplies of lies
Even though Providence and truth are near by
Don't they know it's just a matter of time
And Hell will not wipe one tear from their eye's
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