Tilapia Poems

LOST IDENTITY

He grew wild fins
Spinning in the depths
Like a wild tilapia
Drifting further, losing his identity.

No sooner did the cool breeze  
Caress his tender skin
Than arrogance was unleashed
Breaking free from the roots of his kin.

He speaks with a tongue  
Sharp and unkind
A stranger, like an untamed soul
His true self slipping away, identity lost.

Once known as a Sierra Leonean
A product of a good home
Now his voice carries a foreign tone
His essence scattered, his identity gone.

Bait

“Better to shun the bait than struggle in the snare” 
William Blake

With a fragile earth warm, I lure my Labeo rohita.
Minute minnows manage many magical Mackerels.
Shrimps attract snapper, arowana, and tilapia.
Aren't baits also in the form of bread, biscuits, and bagels?

Best cows as baits to lions, fleshy fawns as baits to tigers
Live dogs lure the crocodiles, and greens charm the elephants.
Covets, cravings, wants, wishes, inclinations, and desires
Are poured into the human psyche to find their relevance.

We consume the bait. Baits consume us. Irrationally!
With their colour, form, shape, beauty, and lure, I'm imprisoned.
I enter this trap, this hole, and this grave casually.
I struggled all through my life as though fate had commissioned

The piece of butter and cheese, with bread and fish relishes
Which being, I do not know, enjoys each of these dishes?

There Phases of My Life Episode Two

A damsel looked at me , she said 
"Jerome hi," and I just said "hello"  but she isn't letting go her eyes lash off me. I don't know why she comes around  often,
Though am good at maths a little, Lola she is fondly called.
She made me believe I had tiny heirs on my upper lip, they call 
It mustache. Lola's father sterns at me, her momma smiles at me,
my momma frowns at her, my Dada smiles at her.

I thought I liked Lola, then Junior came and she left with him.
I cried a little then Momma said" forget about her, Nene will come."

So with bleeding heart, emotional tattoos inscribed on my neural,
I bubbled out like a golden Tilapia fish from the deep & dived 
into the third phaze.

 I found myself in a very big hall, no uniform like former times. "What! Why?" Rhetorics

Consecrated Consortium-

Isolated tilapia
Disintegrating Utopia
Unparallel  ambiopia, from the deserts of Ethiopia;
Depth of seas oceanography;
Please don't take no photographs of me;
Because I'm drowning and my stupidity;
While all that's left of me;
Is me and it's 10-year-old Twinkie ™;
That I purchased that Hinky Dinky ™;
And just why is the air so, stinky;
Cuz!  I can annihilate this world with my pinky;
Consecrated consortium


7/8/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021

Indesccribable Sea

In this indescribable sea discrepancy is the principle of inhalation and exhalation.
 Fishes are judged by the color of their scales and fins...
where tilapia and her son seldom perish like an ice cube melting in a glass of Scotch whisky.
In this sea, boundaries are created by ethnics and viruses, and types of mouth angles.

In this sea, tilapia explores sea surfaces with passport and dread.
Her son prevails through subtle picking between: shark, octopus, and whale;
a living pessimistic life as empty as cloudless day.

But, both young, old, weak, and strong bear this  common line of break of breakthrough in their national anthems.
Their backs, foreheads, scales and fins bear this common tattoo of morning star and companionship.

Fake Fish

Every where in the world
When you eat fish
In a restaurant

The restaurant owners
Claim it is salmon or tuna
Or other delicious fish

But the sad reality
60 percent of the time
You are eating fake fish

The fish may be fish 
Or may not be fish
But if it is indeed fish
It is probably tilapia

Or some other cheap 
Bottom feeding scumbag fish
Filled with toxins 

And possibly tape worms
And other parasites

And as you eat your delicious fish
You are eating the fake fish

And helping the fish industry
Continue this con game

But there is nothing you can do
Except for catching your own fish
And preparing it yourself

So, when you eat fish
Pretend if you must

That you eating salmon or tuna
While you eat your tilapia
And pay the salmon/tuna premium price

from my unpublished chapbook, "fake things" available on my web page https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com

Erinle

Erinle

Eventide.
Night unclads at the riverside
with her gown perfumed with silence
slowly droping on a mat of
clams and gasping tilapia.
Pillow of pebbles that turns into gold
when the morning sun kisses
the earth with Midas lust.
Her eyes searches every ripple
returning from errands unsent
to her bare thighs.

The exiled moon returns home
to inspire the chicken-hearted lover
on his thousandth unread love-letter.

An anthill poised like a forgotten god
standing on the border
of a lost territory
on whose sacred shrine
now stands the cricifix.

Invocations awakens
the river god sleep-walking to her bed.
She births the fishermen
fortunes on nets, fish hooks
and the praise of proud housewives.

Morning takes desperate strides
to take the glory of night
when the fishers bow before the black sun
that warms the heart of Africa
inconsolably mourning her sons
that were dumb at home
but now sings her songs in a strange land.

Freaking Out

Ms. Dolly has something with things
that a naked eye can’t see.
Once she went for dinner;
a charming date,
and a plate of fine cuisine.
A plate of tilapia fish was right in front of her.
She could see an eye looking straight
at her – still and unblinking. She felt as though
the fish was staring right at her.
She gasped in terror,
as though she had seen a ghost.
“Are you okay dear?” her lover asked.
“It’s the fish!” she said.
Her lover thought that it was the pepper;
he ordered her another fish,
this time without pepper. Another still,
 unblinking eye she saw – she gasped once
again. 
“What’s wrong now, honey?” he asked.
“The eyes!” she said, her face
flashing in terror.
Her lover then thought her eyes had a problem.
“I’ll get you the best optician in town,” he promised her.
“I can’t stand all what I’m seeing!” she said, amid
breaking whispers….



Date of Entry: 8/27/2016

Herzlichen Gluckwunsch Zum Geburtstag

With the gaiety of geisha girl
Like the antics of tilapia´s tail -
Left, right; left, right; left, right...

Omo o, eeipe e dagba 
Omo o, eeipe e dagba o
Kekere jojolo la bi tiwa 
Omo o , eeipe e dagba o

Holler, holler in our gorgeous lace
Chesting out our priceless jewel
Adoring Lord for his infinitive grace
His love is deeper than any well.

Omo o, eeipe e dagba ...

He has caused us to dance today
Our joy is full, our art is fun
March 17 he has granted our merry day -
The day Princess Amogemola was born.

Omo o, eeipe e dagba...

Ways may be rough, life may be tough
Still we shall exalt His holy name
Who has given us reasons to laugh
Whose gift to us is now a dame.

Omo o, eeipe e dagba...

Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag our baby girl
With you life is good and well.

Omo o, eeipe e dagba...

Massacre So Self Inflicted

A ripe body of Adolescence, nuzzled by beauty
on which hair is polished by crystals and sapphire
but lacks in the garrison of virtues and patriotism
becoming blind to the significance of its own felicity.
So gullible  is its owner, that Dorian Gray is her preferred suitor,
so false are her choices like bringing Tilapia to Canada to strive.
Protracted human disasters have not altered her Oestrus
yet barren even with the plethora of fertile males
she's an ignorant keeper and owner of a unique talisman
causing a huge surveillance from selfish sugar daddies.

In the midst of her turmoil, she stays ludic
inflicted with so much pain but cry so rhapsodic.
Swimming with the fast in pretentious avocation
entertaining in self deceit, through every dulcet move.
Well formed mouth without a beak and limbs with soft knees;
her metamorphosis should be complete, yet a chrysalis she remains.
A complete turnaround requires an economic Hasidism
for the existing gross mediocrity to be evanescent
then refined existence in juxtaposition between an idyllic present
to a radiant future would be once again fully established.

In the Moment

Only this moment,only now I have;
Lot of gaps between glass and lip;
Please add me another bottle,
More plates of tilapia pepper soup,
One more for me,one one more for my sweetie
And let the music play on,preferably that track:
I am a nowmania :
                                     Rock me , rock me, anyhow
                                     Honey baby rock me now
                                     One life,one time;rock me now
                                     Better is a nowmania
                                     Than tomorrow millionaire
                                     One life,one time; rock me now...



Kayod5,
26th Dec,2014.

Where Is Donna Jones

My feet are yearning for dance,

Wishing to roll like cone on its tip;

My hands too,wishing to swing

Like eagle taking a flight;

I wish to wind my waist,

Like Tilapia on a gaiety mission.


But where is sparrow?

Where has nightingale gone to?

Please come back sparrow,

Come now nightingale,

Come and sing me your sweet songs;

My feet are yearning for dance.


Your songs are my first aid,

Like mouth to mouth respiration,

They ignite and awaken my nerves ;

And when I  hear your lyric,

Like angels in morning service,

My feet yearn for dance.


My feet are yearning for dance,

Wishing to roll like a cone on its tip;

My hands are yearning to swing,

Like  eagle taking a flight;

I wish to wind my waist,

Like a Tilapia on a gaiety mission;

But where is sparrow and nightingale?

I say where is my Donna Jones?

Saint Peter's Fish

Soon after Simon and Jesus had arrived in Capernaum 
Temple tax Collectors came for the two drachma sum
In questioning Simon as to whether Jesus would pay
Responding "Yes He will" and that was all Peter would say

So as Simon entered the house where Jesus was staying
What do you think now Simon as Jesus began saying
In the simple knowing that Jesus has never been wrong
Of course His argument was persuasive beyond strong

Peter was quick to see and so he too did agree
Though Jesus said unto him to just allow it to be
For He then sent Peter down to the sea to catch a fish
Knowing about the Lord Jesus you probably know about this

As with that, as Jesus had said,  the first fish Peter had caught
There sitting in its mouth was what those collectors had sought
As is the sky and the land and this the ocean that He created
Let not His Power or His Glory upon you ever be dissipated

Tilapia

Terrorists

under cover of darkness,
while the oshanas were feeding
off the cuvelai
the men from the south came silently
disturbing the tilapia from its gentle sleep.
Suddenly they pounced, and the voices
of the women pierced the night
as they dragged our men
to our sacred places
where they tortured them.

Growing Up

Growing up that age,we‘ve grown out
  Of mothers bosom into streets,
  With sown leather that bounces
  Up and down among us,
  Gone far and wide, swimming in lakes
  Of Spirogyra green and tea brown water,
  Caught the silvery tilapia and slippery heels as game,
  And sold them for bread,

  Self inflicted hungered, afflicted;
  Though large ladles were waiting,
  The rowdy rascal would  returned
  With impunity and stumped to their leftover;
  And Shepherds echoed and neigh expressed
  Our wandering out and about.
 
  Now that we 've outgrown,
  We have left such things that made a lad  again,
  And looked toward the future
  When we would be father-like
  To little ones,
  We shall spit out and bellow nothing to naughty
  While to them the beds they would lay,
  And dose and dream of carbuncles, sapphire and crystal rocks,
  Floating oarless in the breeze of aquamarine riches
  And falling into bottomless abyss,
  Till  clock crow it is soon morning,
  And woke with tears all stick up to faces,

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