Remembrance Day / Veterans' Day - 2

Would You Like a Downgrade?

I.  
“Everything I own I’m carrying on my back,”
A shipmate said wonderingly that last day
In the recruit barracks.  And it was so:
Two sets of dungarees, one pair of shoes,
Two sets of Undress Blue and then one set
Of Dress Blue B, one pair of sneaks, one pair
Of this, more sets of that, a ditty bag
Of Personal Hygiene Articles,
Officially and carefully approved,
All in a new seabag.
                                       It was enough.
How much does a man need in order to die?

II.
And now we carry mortgages, jobs, books,
Televisions, cars, hunting rifles, clocks,
Lawnmowers, bills, Sunday suits, Monday shoes,
Plastic boxes that light up and make noise,
Fences that need repair, cats to the vet,
Air conditioners, chainsaws, queen-sized beds,
Closets that need sorting out, chests of drawers
Of things we never needed anyway,
Cameras, clawhammers, pens, reading lamps,
Scissors, and writing paper.
                                                   It is too much.
How much does a man need in order to live?

It's a throwaway age for one and for all.
Nobody wants to hear the heart's call
Society around us is falling apart,
Things just go wrong right from the start.
Friendships appear to be a disdain,
Instead we use others for personal gain.
Running for cover, from  storm rain,
Feelings for others slaughtered and slain.
Already the price is being  paid.
Society gone and relationships frayed.
It will only get worse as standards downgrade.
Are we numb to the slide, or really afraid?
We can change it all, its not too late.
Bring on the love instead of the hate.
All is not lost if we'd communicate.
Destruction should never be our final fate.

Dragon* – a reference to government or a leader with such great powers.

Economics can determine the future?
The decision making, which can force millions to abide to the law established by government, can determine the future. *That’s it.

An extension of affluence for all,
But where is the long term?
Poverty and high unemployment,
Now an argument?
With two years to educational progress,
Juan Dela Cruz drew back and recoil.

Humankind’s race,
With such declining economies..
A need for taxation of the working class –
To stay number one, or should I say, the Top 10?

For those capable to success,
No full-time salaries.. No livable wage..
A further education..
Would it be worth it when a full-time was offered?

For the move of the dragon,
Is there a downgrade forecast for the nation?
GDP has been calculated, water dragon may not be drown..
Meagre realm’s tyro – for their incomes deduction.

(4/2/12 @xirlleelang)

Universe we know—
God's one grey hair on black head,
All else, dark matter.

We have been invited to a masquerade
We take a moment to halt this crusade
In life There are ups and downs, side to sides, like plaid
In order to find the good inside of us, we must get through the bad

We have been invited to a masquerade
Even though we may feel as if we are being betrayed

Rivers that separate rich folk, poor folk, your folk, my folk
I think it’s time the world finally awoke

We have been invited to a masquerade
We stare, never moving, without a choice, like the milk maid
Dance, sing, anything! I shouldn’t have to persuade

We have been invited to a masquerade*
This is not a time to maim, blame or downgrade
We no longer spit our deadly lines
These life lessons should be taken as signs

Be careful what you think, because your thoughts are not your own
“Where did you get this inspiration?” You ask,
Well dear, from my home

I read the book of Samuel
I read the story of the Israelites
Of how they rejected God
“We want a king!” they demanded
“We want to be like other nations”
Rejecting God’s kingship.

The same God who brought them up
Out of the ******* of Pharaoh
Out of slavery in Egypt
The same God who gave them victories
Over many nations and wars
The same God who had fed them
For forty years in the wilderness
Same God who had proved
Beyond reasonable doubt
That He is the King of kings
A Lord above all lords
They chose to downgrade!

I was swept away in a mind journey
As I thought of how it must have felt
To be rejected by your own children
Repudiated by your beloved
Disowned by the very people you love.

My heart bled!
The heartbreak was unimaginable
The pain was excruciating
As my mind pointed fingers of accusation
I couldn’t find befitting words
“Foolish Israelites!”
“Unrepentant idiots!”
“Stubborn generation!”
And as my mind went awry
Heaping insults on God’s people
Raining accusations on them
Judging an imperfect people as myself…

His still small voice whispered
“You are all the same”
“You have done worse”

Then it struck me
Like a lightening of a million volts
I am the Israelites
I am the very people of God
I am the same ones I condemn
I have betrayed God repeatedly
I have chosen sin above my maker
My iniquities know no bounds
I have trivialized His blood
I have made a mess of the cross.

I am the “foolish Israelites!”
I am the “unrepentant idiots!”
I am the “stubborn generation!”
My heart melted into tears
Shame covered me like a cloud
My head was bowed in ignominy.

Unable to speak or move
I lay there, weeping at my wickedness
No words were spoken
But I felt His arms embrace me
In acknowledgement of my repentance
I never deserved it
But He loved me nonetheless.
I pointed one finger at them
But three pointed back at me!


© Raphael Uzor

Universe we know—
God's one grey hair on black head,
All else, dark matter.

I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast
while my father built me a bassinet
of series circuits with high, motherboard
bars.
I've got that artificial baby glow.
But Mom put my ****** on Facebook
at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended
(forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months,
but I want my downgrade now
'cause all I get are social invite excuses
from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack
our lives into little boxes that we're
not even allowed to open.
We drink to technology, keep our lazy
eyes on our news feeds, and recycle
ideas like their owners would even
want to see what we've done to them.
We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves
with mangled Robert Frost stanzas.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think
it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue."

Reblog, revine,
retweet, FaceTime.
Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn.
White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden,
and write John ******* or Tom Whatever.
We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD
fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed
aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks?
S
   B  
       U  
            X
B  
     S
The cooler's too ******, music's too shy,
and the sugar, no, not just the sugar.
THE PEOPLE are too artificial.
The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing
on has pencil lead, sock lint,
and receipt shred lapel pins.
Even corporations play dress-up.

But what happens when Y2K kicks
in tomorrow?
Lives will be lost even before
the missiles **** us.
And the planes that drop
from the sky won't even come close
to when the bough breaks your little
girl's heart, baby, because your phone
can't raise her anymore, so you have to.

And based on your search history,
tweets, and recorded dreams,
she's better off in the warm
embrace of a hard drive.