they say …
you cant take it with you
but you took so many little jewels
when you left -
your smile
your pure, unqualified love
your creativity and expression
your engaging mind
your kindness, your empathy
and your extraordinarily limitless patience …
but what I miss the most is
our talks …
about anything and nothing
and everything …
there was ne’er a doubt my heart was yours
and yours, of course, was mine
the truly ironic thing is
that we conversed SO much -
for many hours on end
when not a single, solitary word …
was ever needed.
I miss you, Mom ... like a clown misses tears.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art taken by my sister Terrilynn Dubreuil and filtered copyright-free by the author at Prisma )
They crowd around their leader
unqualified, unfit
Vying for some action
all chomping at the bit
They’ve given-up democracy
their morals are all gone
Instead they honor Donald Trump
a two-bit, traitor con
They don’t want an America
with those who aren’t White
They’d rather burn it to the ground
and threaten that they might
They’re homophobic bigots
and condemn those who are trans
Scared of life, scared of love
they punish them with bans
Like preachers, they quote scripture
hang crosses from their chains
But then deport small children
far away, alone, on planes
The MAGA base is poisoned
hating all that’s not the same
Then praise an unfit moron
who’s a fool and has no shame
We won’t give-up our freedom
our vote, or right to talk
Together, we will march as one
resist, and walk the walk
I am pretty much unqualified
To judge poetry contests
To draw cartoons
To paint canvases
To use a chainsaw
To write a book
Yet I do all of these things
Without certification, license or diploma
Because no one has demanded my qualifications
Next sound
Miss tick
Teaching you through like adu
Eat the line
Crawl up the vine
Inside your water, no wine
Code and color penal
Cashing under the welfare
Biggest duty push
He haw hackers purse strings
And dockers
Superfly newspapers
Wrapped around certificates like knockers
Your still here, hear with your eyes
Get it out of your mouth
Put publicity on silent
Give me 5 to 10 years no profit
Let it all fall, burn in to the problems
Noway y’all is progressive
Jazz aint today
Last night novels can’t eat eggs
Leader need an audience?
When wasn’t you borin?
Flapping aunt jackson
Face some sit down time
For once become not obvious
Because i know you think
But you respond to the dropper
Knew medication like diapers
Unqualified speakers too magnet
Flipping sausage like complaints
Deaf and defended
Clerically too many missing
Number one number, how many died
While you walk, no guard
Open and jawing
Looking at a paper journal , good news for the nations , hard for the blinds to see, easy for the mute and deaf people to read silently.
Quote by poet.
In a televised Kenyan journal,
the story line concerned a young kind-hearted and genial,
a young great lawyer who were blackmailed by others.
many lawyers were panicked by a so called fake lawyer
As he already won twenty six cases in his career.
Brian Mwenda got arrested by the state
and now behind the bars.
So young and
brilliant lawyer in the country who wished
to be given chance to defend
himself in front of Kenyan law lords.
he was accused to be unqualified lawyer
because he did not study law at any university
which continues astonishing many folks worldly
as he won many lawyers with doctorate
and masters degrees in criminal and civil courts.
If he comes to win some state lawyers,
he will be making a big record wide worldly
which will push many folks to doubt
some colonial education systems.
they argued over nothing
as if there was no tomorrow
unqualified feelings of rejection
reciprocation hurt and unbridled anger
alcohol infused the situation
amplified anxiety and fearful desolation
terrorized emotions and reason
eventually they looked at the bleak picture
they were presenting
and it looked surreal in deception
until splashes of black resolved
for colours of the rainbow to remerge
over trials of a difficult year
they had forgotten themselves
had looked after everybody else’s needs
misplaced the key to their hearts
but they kept on talking
in honesty
without reservation
and were rewarded
to find out that their love was infinite
and the fire of marriage eternal
as they renewed their vows
She wanted one last verse,
one more night of love affection
I did further than that, reverse
and I showed her my disaffection...
She looked at me sidelong
as if she lacked food,
I made love a survival
Bed Sheets were not even wrinkled
Our almost away kisses
and our separate bodies ...
Our story was left behind,
while live, it was even voracious,
But, It died standing,unqualified
...!
Dear Lord, the Giver of excess
We invoked your name at the start of this assembly
We have sailed safely to the shore of the meeting
We have poured our thoughts as unqualified mortals
Seeking to be of worth in your hallowed presence
In our meek manner, we are limited in diction
To present our boundless gratitude
We beseech you to accept our plea on your sanctified precinct
And now as we move into action
In your fullness of providence, and grand plans for us
We pray and hope to keep the faith
We bespeak our love and honor
To you our Master in time and spirit
We are assured of your company for we ask as your children
We speak through your edict
As tabled to us
As it was to Corinthians
In the fourteenth verse
Of the seventh Chapter
Of the First Book
That if we, these mortals
Who are called by your name
And you our Father
Present our heart in words to your ear
You grant us the promises
This then we ask, in Jesus Name
Amen
Wait,
is to stretch the moment now
beyond its curvature
dimensional...
Now is synonymous of absence,
wait is presence symptom
even if water passed, river running
melting snow, molten metal
to make a future not belonging...
tô the prime dreamer !
Wait is voidness of life,
unqualified aftermath
of the great tragedy...
Wait is search
of partnership for personal pain,
and summoning spirits
so that they suffer together
with the sufferer...
Waiting is a delusion
endless of the ethereal
that will never be concrete...
Is vapor of memories,
is source fulcrum
nonexistent,
is the sanity of madness
and the dreadful dream
of the unfortunate...!
how earth measures unqualified success ~ survive global extinction
By
David Kavanagh
Nothing else but pure consciousness
With a singular is-ness of blissfulness
No time or space or body or mind
Every aspect of i-dentity left behind
Singularity in Absoluteness
Unqualified fullness of being-ness
Mind-body vaporised, how do we then return
We transform becoming bliss on this sojourn
Not as separate identity experiencing
Actually transmuting by so becoming
The truth is we ourselves cannot reenter our body
A divine power steers us back so we breath easy
No translation of this transcendence seems possible
Being a transitioning beyond thoughts analytical
We affirm it as a singular energy field true oneness
Beyond void or manifestation interconnectedness
Here there is neither space nor time nor any measure
Nothing else save consciousness in blissful rapture
30-July-2020
McGee was needin' a drop you see
So he headed on down to the pub
But as he arrived, he heard a small voice
Say " Don't go into that club"
Turning around there he had found
A Nun with her fist in the air
Saying "Don't you know that drinkin' a sin,
A sin your soul can not bare,
And besides that too, it'll rot you guts
Your liver, your teeth and you brain
And if you were smart, if you'd walk away
And never touch it again".
So, McGee then asked the little bold Nun
" Have you ever had even a taste?"
The Nun replied "Of course I've not!"
" Then Sister you haven't a case,
How can you judge, if you're not tried,
You're unqualified, That's what I think"
"Ok "said the Nun "I guess I try one,
But, as long as you go get the drink"
Ok said McGee," What shall it be"
The Nun said "I only know Gin"
McGee said fine, I'll be back in no time.
Wait here, and I'll just pop in"
McGee walked briskly up to the bar
Where he order a pint for himself
The asked for a cup of Gin to go
And make it the best on the shelf
The barman pulled the pint for McGee
Then gave his chin a rub
Said, "Now, don't tell me that drunken Nun
Is still out in front of me pub!
The havoc of poverty
Is the undisturbed terrain
Of the vain unqualified.
Who live in distress.
Sitting on the recliner
Speaking about the poor
With the glass of costly wine
And there is nothing to offer.
Only talk and talk about them
The one who lives in the lane
Sleeping on roadside poverty
Eating the dirt filth of variety.
The life of the poor
In the way never to prosper
For us who want to change
Run far away from garbage.
We are show stoppers
Of the change makers
Who wants the village
For a powerful image.
We curse the poverty
Do nothing for parity
It is our disgusting outrage
In the social media age.
-Rohan Dhabade
While I do not doubt
God has chosen to use imperfect people
as powerful leaders
throughout history,
I also do not doubt
imperfect people have chosen to use god
to justify narcissistic
degenerative
supremacist
predative purposes
throughout history,
And I also do not doubt
God has not chosen to use
many imperfect people
unqualified for effective public office
for furthering a healthy
democratic
multicultural
non-violently communioned
global history.
Though justification may be in faith,
And hope sustain us through all trouble,
Greater still than either is agape,
The love that comes from God,
The concern for our fellow creatures
Which acknowledges our oneness.
We call it love or charity; in fact
It transcends both those words.
It is at base an unjudgmental affirmation
Of our shared human nature; unlike
Ordinary love, agape flows untrammeled,
No strings attached, no conditions stipulated,
A free-bestowed outpouring of compassion
Unqualified, and seeking no reciprocation.
When we open ourselves to God’s love
And freely yield us up to be its instrument,
Then love’s paradox is plainly seen:
The more we give, the more it lives in us.
October 14, 2019
Written for Regina Riddle's "1st Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Contest"
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