Vassals Poems | Examples

Shamrock on the Shorts

a fairy tale of Camden Town

Clancy’s Gym, the same old sounds
a minute’s rest then two more rounds
I’ll jack this in (like Bobby Prewitt)
but where’s the one who made me do it?
He hasn’t come, he’s never here
by now he’s on his second beer
presiding in the Dublin Castle
surrounded by his navvy vassals
they’re calling me “the Tralee Tiger”
I coulda been … where’s my Rod Steiger?
the jolting jab, fast on his feet,
the bantamweight that no-one’s beat…
my bucket? Something-Saint-John’s-Wood
and scum from gumshields, spit and blood
I’ve learnt a word I like – “effete”
You don’t hear that on Albert Street
He knows I never wanted this. He
said he’d cure me called me cissy
he calls me Rocky. What a sham
why can’t I be the thing I am?
I want to dance like Nureyev
which might explain the fury of
the shellacking that this lad’s getting
Look at those losers busy betting
Sad old slobs with Patterson poses
ten-buck suits and flattened noses
come to think, though, who’s the fool
they’re not up here on this stool
back room Clancy’s Masculine Sports
blood on the gloves, shamrock on the shorts

BIBLE

BLOOD-coated 
discourse 
exposing 
features
of BASIC 
heathen hearts

INSPIRED 
INSTRUCTIONS 
for errant humanity 
executed by ordinary 
vassals served 
divine fountain pens

BOLD script 
prescribed
BEFORE 
our very birth 
that mortals should 
not turn to ugly fish 

LOVELY 
red letters
from the masthead 
author - Him - 
Jesus the Christ 
LEAVING ears 
news of hope 
and Heaven 
lightening the pilgrim's 
progressive load 

ENDURING
messages of love
Mary's virgin womb
a throne room 
for the everlasting king come 
among us        to this 
EARTH
a spinning catastrophe 
of 1000 miles per hour 
and a billion small lights 
on a journey home

Vassals Espinela

As I collapse on this pillow 
I find that place I can run to;
The hidden path I’ll always know;
Past the stars! Follow midnight blue! 

A step from the sea’s undertow
shrouded in dreams I build castles;
On my salmon robe hang tassels
that capture particles of sand;
Glitter in the palm of my hand,
I’m not one of the King’s vassals.

Ambition - in Kamalas own words

What if I can see it, smell it, almost touch it,
That gilded throne where I will proudly sit,
Would people think me mad,
Is my ambition so preposterous and bad.

And why not me, have I not earned this crown,
Someone not worthy of that queenly gown,
Bejeweled and composed for all to see,
My vassals all around, bowing deep to me.

Naysayers bleat I'm just an empty ship,
With lights and streamers pretending to be hip,
Without a cargo or destination clear,
Sailing in circles relying on the wind to steer.

But if we're given to analogies, what if I were a Trojan horse,
With clear intent and undisputed course,
Where guile and purpose rule the day,
The aim to soundly win not merely one to play.

Demean and underrate me at your peril,
I can pivot between angel and pure devil,
While my laugh is designed to be disarming,
It masks a side of me considerably less charming.

Everything I've wanted I've achieved,
A trajectory few would have believed,
Do you think I'll stop at this last jump,
And in so doing fully flatten Trump?

What Lord Krishna Said Us

Lord Krishna had told long time ago-
Grave words like the sea not hollow:
"In the time of industrial & modern age,
People would be the birds in a golden cage:
Where they'd born with the wings colouring
But they'd forget the tune of how to singing,
People of modern time would be heartless
They'd be the cause of blame, never confess!
Science & technology would touch the apex
But the root of it like the dead tree fakes,
All sayings would be inactive fantastical
As a hand contains bloodless & acute nail,
People during modern age would be the king
And wish to govern over vassals very tiring,
When all strengths would subject to ash
And blood would submerge into flesh,
Only a MANTRA would come sailing by-
Hare Krishna & I'd be there being the moonlike eye."

Avocado God

that was a rough day
with their aggressive cars
heavy sky of electrical threats
I came back scared from these thorny streets
I need friendly things
through the crack in the window 
I saw the static grandeur
of the avocado tree that reigns quietly near here
he watches indifferently as the days crumble
occasionally throws up leaves in the wind
and soon returns to rule the world
like a divine and green organic colossus
always blind I didn't realize
but today I know 
it's the trees that matter
and we are vassals viruses protozoa bacteria 
minuscule small nulls so don't be amazed:
we're here to feed the trees and nothing else
stop hysteria

After Shocks - Revised

It's after the 'landslide?' Thieves stole the election!
This traitorous scum bag's a Russian invention,
But 'Charmin' (1) for Putin (that's on a good day!)
For the dark side of Trump's just black art on display!

Who’s sure what this Russian prick knows that we don't know?
His strength, the weak worship, on knees (that's 'for damn sho!'),
So sad (though it’s clear), the worst blackguards have pride,
But Trump prostitutes children! He's vacuum inside!

There'll never be 'wall,' Trump's 'top picks' terms in prison,
Their blood fouls saint's thoughts when 'land crocodile' (2) eats them
(Reality TV's so juicy!) Although
The best part of Trump's boners, the rainbows clouds grow!

Rich folk's lives reveal to the world that they're vassals,
Suggest to some peons' life's harder in castles,
Rich thinking perhaps they meow like a cat,
But when reckoning comes: will they squeak like a rat?


Long Tooth
August 16, 2018
Poet’s Notes:

(1) For those in the know ‘Charmin’ is what ‘privileged’ folks use to wipe
their tush!
(2) In the Malaysian language, a “Land Crocodile” is the phrase used to
describe a man who molests women, i.e., a playboy! What fun!

Essence

At the table of wisdom
Knowledge will seek audience 
Vassals rolls out of creek
Paying homage to understanding 
Alas, unforeseen doom lurking 
Doom, even for the enlightened 
Patience the cure
Patience lead the realm
The conclave of the wise

The Phoenicians

The Phoenicians
Past

From turbulent seas
rise mighty noble Phoenicians
sailors and masters in commerce
twenty two constant warriors
ancestors of our language
four vassals, thriving Phoenician pride
furnished the Persian kingdom
from the mountaintops
tall cedars , sculpted to fine ships
humanity forever
sleeps in Byblos
ancient city bathed in 
supple cream soft moonlight
sea winds carry messages
ancestors whispered to me

Fragmented, listless
an abandoned seashell
split in pieces
like Phoenicia

Swift Arthur

King Arthur had a lightning rod. Guinevere found him trying.
His vassals though profoundly odd were far more satisfying.
In martial arts he did excel. At other trades his plying
Could never suit his ego well -- one often found him sighing.

Whenever he returned from war, he was the day's sensation;
But evening found him sad and sore, insensate to persuasion.
Sometimes he tried, and tried his best, to rise to the occasion,
But instanter fell back to rest. His queen must feign elation.

The thing that made it all so strange, he thought himself a charmer.
The king, it seems, a bit deranged, was fearful he might harm her.
She tried to be a faithful wife, avoiding page and farmer;
But Arthur would not, on his life, ever remove his armor.







"Swift Arthur" appeared previously in Fantasy & Terror 9, 1986. It will be collected for the first time in my forthcoming collection The Ocean's Tryst and Other Metrical Tales of Heroic Fantasy.

Old Masks

They never change
These vassals of venom
If only their cups could hold love
Instead of water
Then gardens could bloom in valleys and deserts
As the seeds of love traverse the oceans
Yet they chose to poison the wine
That spreads humanities love
Old men set in their ways
Lost, like fishermen at sea
Floundering for redemption

One day
We shall remove their masks
And rejoice

Love at long last


Notes:
Recently being in the hospital and not knowing if I would get out, I had dreams of both gardens and nightmares, I guess the best way to sum it up, is the garden of good and evil.

Romans 3:13
13Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit; the venom of vipers is on their lips; 14their mouths are full of cursing and of bitterness;…

Rainbow Colored Camouflage

They lined up in long queues, which never knew
the past, present or future. They lined up,
waiting to hear what the Oracle would tell them
about their future. The oracle acted as their brain
and time machine, telling them what they would do
every minute, second, hour, or for the rest of their
lives.
Their lives were simple, peaceful, and good;
their lives, children, dressing, houses, jobs, happiness....all
reflected the character of the oracle.
For thousands of years the oracle had siphoned out
emotions, uniqueness, and free will from their minds and bodies,
turning them to vassals for completing its mission.
None had the courage of asking it's purpose on Earth,
for it never spoke to individuals; it only knew control,
monotony, and uniform order, which many died trying to fight.

Own Reality

As soon as we wish, it becomes.
We live in gold and castles.
This is our god, we are his vassals.
We fly in a clear blue sky. 

You say:" Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Life ain't never a happy ending. This 
Isn't happening you know? Look
Straight at the burning reality."

So you, want us to see a burning sky
Where we are falling out of grace of
And where our only escape are the flames.
Now, who is going to save us, save us, save us?

Witnesses of Consciousness

"We are who we were" - Anthony Hopkins,
in the film, La Amistad.


Our bodies are vassals of our souls,
in this journey we call life. Bodies return
to nothingness in decay and burning,
but not the souls.

Souls are eternal….
The souls keep on inhabiting new bodies
in every rebirth, in diverse cultures
and races, seeing history unfold
before their eyes!

We are part of God;
God is the Supreme Soul.
Our souls keep yearning to return to God,
who is our Source.

When you realize that you are One with Nature,
you will become Enlightened.
You will never be reborn again.
You will return to God,
and become part of Him once again.
You will have witnessed your own consciousness!



Contest: Soul Consciousness

Sponsored by: Catie Lindsey

Themed on the Question: "Why is it necessary that Soul consciousness be achieved while in the physical body? Is this the purpose of our souls being encased in a physical body?"

Cloaked In Grinding Whispers

Cloaked in grinding whispers
Such inhabitants feel
Their way
Gallop the day
By thrusting, trusting
Emblazoned minds
Envious looks deflected
As the clan stays on task
The full-time preoccupation
And execution of self-expression
Daring risks trickling
The vacant gutters
Thirsty for adrenalin
And a satisfying gulp
Of shattered dreams
Fashionable product
Underserved and underappreciated
By the sanctimonious angels
Slinging hash in pits
Adjacent to the realm of man
Does thou hast remedies
For secrets and manipulations
Self-inflicted
The favored play of
Tenderlicious vassals
Who clamor for more
Than anyone truly deserves
The proven chorus
Decorated in colors
Beyond their years
Hum a distant buzz
Galvanized harmony
Textured strokes o' plenty
Count the measure seventy
Plus whatever is needed
No budget heeded
Because symphonies
Laced with street sugar
And turnstiles revolving by
The peeks and cheats
Sing the bling
And never stray too far
Given no better place
To go.

(8/7/06)

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