Some scribblings that pass for poetry
Yes they bear style and symmetry
But very wordy and message thin
And however much you listen keen
There’s little or nothing to be drawn
Not a mind thrilled, not a soul won
Cheapening the art I work to uphold
As a custodian red hot and stone cold
I take after the order of the psalmists
Penning fantastic fantasies as real to realists
Aiming for indelible works worth filing
Piece upon piece they keep piling
And just as light is distinct from dark
I make shown the difference stark
For as much as God’s Grace is supplied
The works show by the skill applied
Poetry has told both history and prophecy
And is one with life an odyssey
If the present falters, the past will hold fort
Until the hopeful day when the future resorts
To uphold this discipline with excellence
As a way of according its giver due reverence
Then shall we witness how mastery tends
And among us reside living legends
K. Muitherero
Aren't I too young to burn,
here I am again, waiting for my turn.
Never knew this is what it meant,
trying hard not to let my faith bend.
Can't life be easy, like swift waves in motion,
tired of keeping my head high even in this commotion.
Shielding myself every step of the way,
I gazed upon the moon, its pallor in dismay.
A plethora of concerns, too much to endure,
Now, even caring seems like an arduous lure.
This ceaseless burden weighs heavy, never-ending,
how much my heart could take after every mending
Awaiting moments to transform into memories,
as only they possess the essence of eternity.
well! unnoticed by those around, I strain,
A human, I hear my own heart's wrenching pain.
Please just let it be, exhausted of laying fronts,
My fragments possess finite bounds
mindlessly yearning for someone to comprehend my lore,
I hope I never encounter the threshold, where mending exists no more.
Why should I
take after you
and be a sell out
when my heart and ethics
are better then that
Here's a new one for your ears to hear
But keep a keen eye out as well my dear
Cause somewhere within there's a coy little clue
In the form of a wink and a smile for you
To let you inside the depths of my mind
To give you a glimpse of a message, the kind
Of a message that's meant to convey
The fact that its meaning is clear and not gray
The meaning is that this recording is yours
I thought of you sitting with me on the floor
Our legs were crossed over each other's just when
I got a good take after trying again
I wanted to stop but you said it's okay
Just play it the way you would play on Sunday
Your eyes and your smile helped see me through
You know I'd do anything you asked me to
I just can't say no to my beautiful dove
Okay I admit it, yes, you I do love
And think about, think about, think of all day
And wonder, do you think of me too but don't say?
Talk of the barnyard today were Daisy Debbie and Darlene
Three piglets whose mother is rarely and not often seen.
They are as sociable as she is elusive, shy, hidden and quiet.
That she is the mother of these piglets is truly a riot!
They must take after their daddy, observed the cow and horse.
They are spiffy and jiffy, dancing and prancing, usually off course.
Their snorting is loud, and they make themselves known.
They are as loud as a 747 who is being crankily flown.
Daisy, Debbie and Darlene, take after their grandma Sow.
She was a showgirl, a high stepper, that sow was a wow!
Three piglets in the barnyard who keep us all on our toes.
Where they will end up is anyone's guess, said the goat named Boze.
...Even in our own subcultures
this pattern most people can see,
look at the endless dysfunction
that curses our inner cities.
A culture than has accepted
a lack of fathers in their lives,
a culture that thinks real success
is betrayal, they’re ‘acting white.’
With music that glamorizes
thugs who murder to get their dope,
is that the culture you’d embrace?
Is that what will give our kids hope?
Now if they have some good ideas
it is quite smart to learn from that,
but some stray ideas are much different
then embracing all that is bad.
You judge culture by its results,
the west brought freedom, prosperity,
so much that Asia imitates it,
and now grows more and more wealthy.
Why take after the dysfunction,
failed cultures make nothing of note,
some cultures are better than others,
and the west is better than most.
Let’s be real, it’s not even close.
I have tried to check the meaning of life in the dictionary and the irony is that I haven’t found the meaning yet. I don’t know what defines life but I do know you are the perfect definition of it and a couple more terminologies. Life without you is like being in a vacuum. Banks stash cash in vaults, soldiers hide in fortresses, but I’ll hide you in my heart. Beauty no longer lies in the eyes of the beholder; it lies on my chest. If beauty was a virus then I’ve just found my source. You are the S.I unit and the threshold of beauty. Just like the covenant, my kingdom will forever host beauty for I am the true keeper
Curves depict the framework of a chick. A photographer takes pictures, kids take after their parents but I want to take you out, do you agree? B comes before C how about I come before you and tell you how much I want you. It’s awesome how I can play with the 26 letters to form words like sexy, hot and Sharon. I don’t have an address but I can undress you.
Luna laughed as she leave the bar.
Sheila laughs too for she is too giddy to do anything else.
In other bars, her daughters are laughing,
Leaving with men.
For they are younger
And take after their mother.
The moon is too bright tonight Sheila thinks.
Shuddering at the impulsive thing she is about to do.
Leaving with two strange men for a private party.
She had a bad feeling about it at first.
Kept saying no, but they kept buying her drinks.
Eddie the bartender offered to take her home.
He was not even handsome.
Just a nice guy.
She did not like nice guys.
They were not dangerous enough.
Her daughters made it home in time
To get a phone call from their father.
Have you seen your mother?
No one ever saw her again.
poesie slumbers
quietly breathing
swathed in white noise
deep in reverie
poesie trances
in an English garden
picture windows
take after an Anglian sky
poesie rolls over
on freshly cut grass
hedged in by Japanese Quince
the color of wild things waking
poesie sighs deeply
someone's pestering
a spiny shrub grows taller
a pond furthermore darkens
poesie tosses and turns
throws back the covers
lavender makes its entrance
into a parasoled cottage
poesie shivers
someone's cuddling
icy rain babbles against the leadlights
like a lot of raucous stones
poesie comforts
between loud mirth
and crushing sadness
fluffy visions inquire
poesie is awoken
drowsily recalling
a dream of a nightmare
a downy rousing to alertness
poesie rubs her eyes
yawns an aspiration
and utters a fact
the dream's gone too fast.
You meet and shake hands
Things seem fine, real grand
You're married; so are they
You all work for your pay
He's a dentist; she's in social work
Professionals, not lowly clerks
Then you notice their kids. They're strange, a bit weird
One wakes up after noon; another has a full beard
Of course, your first two divorced; they take after you
The next two -- idiosyncratic: Are you that way too?
When you visit their home, their kids are all raging
Yelling and screaming, constantly upstaging
Their parents, who'd once seemed so engaging
And when they return the favor, your oldest just sits
He stares into space, picks at buttons and zits
As the other texts like mad, anything to
Avoid talking to friends of Mom and Dad
You view them as parents now, and what do you see?
A pair of losers whose kids run wild and free
And when they look at you, they see something similar too
A couple of failures whose kids drive them cuckoo
It's time to go; you smile and shake hands once again
Half-heartedly agree to another date, but when?
Who has time these days? "We'll get back to you."
As you silently stew: How'd it all come unglued?
Night Rider
I was riding around a pan- handle flat landscape
and as far as I could see it had millions of coffins, some expensive
others looked home-made.
The sun was forever going down but threw rays on white clouds
making them pink as a ballet dress on a girl painted by Edgar Degas
the ground was covered with sheets of black plastic which undulated
slightly in the mild zephyr.
The horse’s hoofs made holes in the plastic and up sprung bushes
that for long had been living in darkness; they were pale now but
would soon be greening by the setting sun.
I came to a small town where houses had false facades to make
them look imposing walked into a bar were Hollywood actors
was shooting each other take after take.
I found a bath-house after stabling my horse and in the tub
dreamt of crisscrossing this landscape of death till it became
green again hiding the coffins, perhaps then the night would
be full of stars and the sun that arose from the east
My Family.
My dad he is a champion
the greatest in his craft.
My mam is soft and gentle
and some times she is daft.
And i look at all the things we've done
the places we have been.
Dad's favourite colours red,
and my mam's was always green.
My brothers tuff and tumble,
my sisters sweet disguise.
I'm ever so humble an element of surprise.
Though I take after my dad
A champion that I am,
and often I do silly things
daft just like my mam.
What did I do,
To be in your life,
What did I do,
To have nothing go right,
What did I do,
For my thoughts to think twice,
Am I that bad of a person,
To stay to myself,
Maybe it's better for all of us,
Wouldn't seem to cause all the fights,
What did I do,
That's really wrong for you,
What did I do,
But only talk to you,
All I ever seem to do,
Is be a helping hand,
Maybe I'm to hard,
Or take after my dad,
Maybe I don't try hard enough,
To be who I really am,
I'm stuck inside,
And no way out everytime,
What did I do,
To have any of these problems,
I just keep trying to,
I seem to hurt others,
Even if I play around,
What did I do,
For anyone to be around me,
Guess those people just have tolerance,
I'll leave you all,
In case your day and night go good,
I'm sorry for everything,
Again and in due time....
Hattie gladly had a fatty patty.
If a bad fatty patty had Hattie,
That fatty patty would’ve made Hattie batty;
But, Hattie had a rad fatty patty!
The fad-clad Hattie is also a caddy.
“And gladly,” chatted Hattie, “I take after daddy.”
Hattie’s daddy, Mattie, was a caddy as a laddie.
But once Mattie had Hattie, a bad caddy was Mattie, and now the caddy’s Hattie.
But Mattie chatted, gladly, “Me Hattie’s a natty!”
All the laddies were gladly mad for Hattie, and turned caddy.
But Hattie’s chatty daddy chatted, now batty,
“Stray from me Hattie, laddies. Me Hattie is gladly a rad-fatty-patty-eating caddy
that took aft’ her daddy!”
I will have beautiful children
Who will take after me when am gone.
Their names shall be called grace and
Love shall abide with them forever and ever.
They shall bring salt and pepper to me
Run errand to me beside the silent doors.
Upon their hearts shaLl my names be written
Then shall I cover them like motherhen.
Even if money don't really come
They shall be my gold and silver.
My children shall be my pillar,
I shall have them on my bossom,
Kiss away their tears and pains;
Look after them in days of trouble.
They would be pride of jacob in joy.
Right in my heart shall I lay
The right mat for my children to lay.
None shall be barren, vangaborn nor wayward
Rather their tastement shall be of righteousness.
We shall work in the strret with joy.
Those on my arms and some on my back
While some walk beside me as a guide.
My joy and happiness shall we dwell in.
I will cook enough to feed them
Bath them under my nose and care.
In night shall I sit them down
To teach and educate them what
My life, their lives and our lives mean to me.
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