#anthony
Shhh.
Silence.
The red robed supplicants
Are sequestered
Inside the Sistine.
They speak
In silent supplications
To the spirits
To pronounce a Pontiff.
The stewards are set
To send the smoke.
The smoke
That must be white.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
* Only fools try to control time.
* Consequentialism should first deal with subjective rather than objective definitions of good and bad.
* The truth should not be silenced because it gives some people goose bumps.
* The issue of choice does not arise in abortion. People should not have choice to or not to commit ******
* In life poetry is replicated, in poetry life is explained.
*Applause is the best prize for an artiste.
*One who has greatness recognizes greatness.
*Justice is blind but does not bite the fingers that feed her.
*People get rich by working hard to create wealth and also by working hard to keep it.
*Most Laws Are Anti-Poor Because The Poor Do Not Become Law Makers.
*Do not throw stones at the other person because you would not know what the other person would throw in return.
*Freedom without the necessary restrictions is Absolutism. Absolutism in freedom works both ways; For and against you.
*The concept of Royalty is antithetical to the universally accepted maxim that; All men (and women) are born equal.
*How would gays contribute to continuity of humanity since there would be no conception?
*Apart from courage, you must have a good dose of stupidity to be a writer. You must be stupid enough to think that you can change the world with written words.
*There is always a confluence where idealism and reality meet.
*Laws are made and enforced by the conquerors for the conquered.
*The relevance of a writer should be measured by the number of ordinary people conversant with the works of the writer.
*The complacency of today will loom large like incubus and summon us to repay debts incurred, the time will be tomorrow.
*I will speak to generations after mine. Mine is almost irredeemable. The ones before mine are irredeemable.
*Any man can be controlled by a woman who knows how to use her natural instruments of control.
*Power protrudes from the brain, biceps and ***** albeit in variations.
*The toughest person can be softened by a loved one.
*Literature remembers the past, memorizes the present and imagines the future.
*The surest route to greatness is to help others to achieve greatness.
*The pen may be mightier than the sword, but the sword handles issues faster.
*Money may be preferred by many to intellect, yet money remains one of the least products of intellect.
*The concept of formal education was developed by illiterates.
*Equality of all before the law is part of the hypocrisy of law.
*Founders of major religions started by "blaspheming".
*People who consort with oppressive regimes always end up being victims of such regimes' oppression.
*When a child is abused in any form, society is distorted, because the child's adult life will in some ways manifest such abuses.
*News reporters should be both pro and anti establishment, depending on where truth and justice are found at any given time.
*Decency means adherence to at least minimum standards of civility.
*I believe in the universality of arts and literature. I believe that they should appeal to all persuasions.
*Humanity is one in diversity.
*The first King was not a Prince.
*Writers who write for the future do not usually win awards in the present.
*War is an unnecessary instrument of peace.
*Unconditional makes love unreasonable, motivating conditions make it reasonable.
*There are two categories of people we respect, those we love and those we fear.
*Loyalty is a major requirement even in hell.
*The rule in a rat race is that there are no rules.
*War mongers need peace to plan wars.
*It takes more to protect wealth than it took to create it.
*Anything legitimate, including selling crayfish is better than being a poet. At least, you would not be a poverty stricken super star.
*Christianity and Islam, both owe their spread to terrorism in its broader definition, what they preferred and still prefer to call "holy wars". The difference is that presently, Christianity is in control of the important spheres of power namely: political, economic and cultural, while Islam is fighting to balance the terror.
*Literary Critics should be the least of writers’ problems.
*Literary Critics are not gods, they are humans, so their appreciation of literary works are a function of their beliefs, etc.
*Critiques are not and should never be taken as holy writs. The best judges of literary productions should be the consumers, not the producers and/or the professional literary critics.
*Literary Critics should be placed in the category of consumers of literature where they rightly belong and not in the category of gatekeepers of Literature, because Literature have no gate.
*Every human have two personalities; The public and the private. The two are largely different.
*There is a disconnection between Christ and many Christians.
*Pentecostal Preachers in Africa would become irrelevant if there are no more notions of "all woes are from witches and wizards".
*No writer is rated appropriately. A writer is either over rated or under rated.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 8:38 AM UTC
He stood
Atop a supremacist podium,
Handsome in flesh
But hideous in spirit,
Delivering hideous messages.
Hypnotized humans
Huddled
At the foot of the podium
Listening to his hideous messages.
Humanity is one,
Yet Charlie Kirk divided humanity
On the basis of skin colours
And stained the skin colours
He didn't like with inferiority.
The sound of gunshots,
The pandemonium,
The yell,
The splash of blood
And the security show off.
A horrendous human
Holding a gun
Kicked Charlie Kirk to hades
And kicked his hideous messages
Off the supremacist podium.
None deserves violent death,
Reincarnation is real,
Charlie Kirk will reincarnate
To make amends.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 11:25 AM UTC
(1) Nelson Mandela:
Madiba's humility haunts
Haughty hooligans
Huddled inside hideous
Houses of mal-governance.
As Madiba celebrate
Decades of struggles,
Strident grateful voices
Singing songs of salute,
Rendered in sonorous voices
Reverbrated
And resurrected souls
Of subdued citizens.
As Madiba stood
To celebrate and unveil
Statues of struggles,
Erected in city centres
And in the minds
Of grateful humanity,
Nelson Mandela stood,
Grey haired Madiba stood,
wiped out by age and struggles.
(2)Fela:
Sounds of saxophone,
Drumbeats,
Stage walks,
The baritone.
Tongue lashing looters
Of the people's wealth.
Strange incense,
Smokes spiraled.
The shrine
Filled with worshippers,
The priest
Presided with afro beats.
Fela
Fanned the flame of truth
To free the people
From the pangs of timidity.
Persecutions.
New brass hats
Bursted onto the scene
And burrowed
Into the people's wealth.
Fela sang,
They struck,
Persecutions persisted.
Body infirmities,
Surrender,
Farewell,
Afro beats reverberate.
(3)Our Civilization Collapsed:
A new day
Without the sonorous
Songs of songbirds
And the bustle
Of busy humans and animals.
The sun struggled to rise,
Struggled to shine,
Weighed down
By the dark couds of July.
The clouds unleashed rain,
The rain drenched and drained
Our knapsack of knowledge.
The iron birds
Could no longer fly,
The medicine men,
The medicine women
No longer know
The cure for our illnesses,
Our civilization collapsed.
The rain
Rained in torrents
And drenched our earth
Devoid now
Of our knapsack of knowledge.
(4)Loud Murmurs In The Land:
The healers
Diagnosed the wrong ailment,
They applied the wrong medications,
They insist
On applying the wrong medications,
Their hailers hailed.
The patient relapsed into coma,
Loud murmurs in the land,
Silence,
Silence of the graveyard.
The healers strut,
Pretending to heal,
Their hailers hailed.
The loud murmurs prepare
To erupt into a revolt,
A ****** revolt,
A bloodbath.
The haughty healers
Strut
Pretending to heal,
The patient remains in coma,
Their hailers still hailing.
Dark clouds
Gather over our land
Like Damocle's sword,
Threatening to slay
The guilty and the innocent.
The healers still strut
Pretending to heal,
The patient remains in coma,
Their hailers are still healing.
(5)I Am Poet Of The Streets:
I am piqued
When I am profiled
A protegee of prominent poets.
I am pained
When I am pronounced
Just a poet.
I am poet of the streets.
I walk the streets
And sing
My strident songs of protest,
Giving succour
To the indigent indigenes
Of the streets,
Impoverished
By the scoundrels who rule over them.
Mother muse
Mills my inspiration more
When I straddle the podiums
And sing for the streets.
The scorn,
The sneer
Of the scoundrels
Give flip to my resolve
To sing
And sing for the streets,
I am poet of the streets.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
It was another day at work
filled with pain and hurt
looking for ways to shirk
my responsibilities
because of the loneliness filling me
I wasn't that way willingly
and I saw constant reminders
so I started browsing Grindr
looking for comfort
or at least attraction
to get out of the dumpster
of my own inaction
then I saw you on there
like a solar flare
in which I was ensnared
your beauty had me impaired
so I wanted to take you to my imp lair
sending a message "Hey how's it going?"
and you actually responded
now the onus was on me to be showing
that I wasn't too despondent
so I tried to focus on the conversation
which was actually pretty nice
but then you maximized temptation
by mentioning my favorite vice
asking me if I smoke trees
I responded with ** please
you should come to Kentucky
we'll smoke until there's nothing
then turn into men *******
to which you agreed
and I was relieved
leaving work early
with different thoughts swirling
between love and ***
or a ****** hex
I hope you're not the latter
although I'm just flattered
you'd pitch to this batter
who wanted you so badly
I was willing to gladly
drive to Cincinnati
to take you back to my place
after taking a blunt to the face
this isn't a hunt or a chase
just a request for grace
which I definitely needed
after a cop pulled us over
the speed limit wasn't heeded
and oh yeah we weren't sober
made clear by the pot's odor
so I was hoping I'd just get a ticket
and then be sent on my merry way
but then you added thorns to the thicket
by mentioning you have a warrant in play
I didn't know what to say
about the likely arrest to be made
and our total time that would wane
the cop approached and asked your name
and that's when I first heard it
Anthony
I didn't think I'd get served it
answering
a cop who would pull you out of my car
and put you away like an old guitar
I had enjoyed our time thus far
but now it seemed like a scar
so I couldn't let it end like that
in the lonely car I sat
waiting for bond to be posted
so I could be hosted
and we could get toasted
I called around for advice
but was only told to slice
that out of my life
which I couldn't accept
so I went down to the jam up jail
I hoped you hadn't left
because that would mean I failed
and could've just slept
never meeting anyone I like
because of the threat of adversity
never trying to figuratively fight
because of the depression hurting me
so I wanted to see you certainly
posting a meager bond
to give the pigs their slop
hoping I'd see the dawn
and the night would stop
they let you out
while I was in
we won our bout
and now could sin
kissing and smoking
after all the hissing and coping
you going missing had woke me
making me feel alive
for a much smoother drive
back to the Ohio side
where we got into bed
exchanging head
you rocked me to sleep
your secrets you can keep
we don't need to talk too deep
I'm just glad you got me to leap
back into my brain
I eagerly await our refrain
but don't want to be a strain
on where this is going
I have no clue
all that's worth knowing
is you erased my blues.
May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 4:36 PM UTC
My dream was to ship my relation to the mark on the map.
Unimaginable when my treasure; Cleo, marked our love as Anthony.
A relationship of lush, love and power.
Heavy drinkers just for fun, we called ourselves "livers".
Your liver collapsed by the poison caused by our lavish lifestyle.
Our power together was unbeatable but failed miserable when you made my heart stop beating.
But our love was forever so you decided to meet me in the life hereon after.
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 5:56 AM UTC
In the middle of the Roman empire
And under the Cesar's throne
No one thought of a story bein overblown
As Pompeii lost his wife and hated Cesar
Cesar got betrayed, killed Pompeii
That was common tragic teaser
But what unfolded the truth?
As the words came out of Cleopatra
Cesar ****** and hooked
But that was too mainstream no?
She was just bound to love him
Cuz she had no support for her own
Cesar, killed by politics and forgotten
Anthony his commander
Took the survey and went Egypt often
The women that he ****** had no honor
A devil in form of a *****
Just some good clothes and venal
Anthony put on the Egyptian antimony
Found love in Cleopatra
Left that ***** filled with insanity
Then as he was hated for loving foreign
Octavian lost faith
And headed for killing the fallen
Anthony didn't wanna die as a traitor
Stabbed himself
Wore the king's robe as dictator
Cleopatra saw that and cried
She bit herself by snake
And later died
Chaperones picked both up
Sat them on their thrones
Romans came and were blown
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
My smile masks a thousand lies
one thousand lies hidden behind my bellowing laugh
A laugh that fades when your eyes cast away
Your eyes fail to notice my darkness leaking out
My darkness is translucent but swallows me whole like tar
I’m drowning but I continue to live
Living while suffering while pretending is a battle
A battle I can’t confess because I fear to disappoint you
You’re disappointed I didn’t speak up
I can’t speak up or out or talk about my demons
My demons are choking me while my brain betrays me
You feel betrayed while staring at my corpse
I stare back blankly with a smile on my face.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 6:56 PM UTC
How do you describe
I'm not sure that you can
Truly find the words for
A Renaissance Man
I woke up this morning
Saw the paper, he was dead
Renaissance Man
Popped into my head
Rebel against the standard
Rage not causing pain
Live a life worth living
Like Anthony Bourdain
Teacher, writer, critic
Chef, student and man
Philosopher and cleric
A grown up Peter Pan
Question those around you
Learn, and share the wealth
Be a Renaissance Man to others
Don't keep your knowledge on the shelf
Demons, we all have them
Don't feed them, for they breed
Doubt into existence
Dark demons need to feed
Live life, avoid the shadows
Share and then go share again
Don't end up on a headline
Fight the urge, count to ten
Today, I read a headline
A Renaissance Man out of pain
I guess we never really knew him
Rest gentle Sir Boudain
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
When looking for people,
you'll always find food.
So look for food,
and you'll find friends.
Cause that's how it always ends :
with good food on their hands,
a table surrounded by friends.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
you are the Austin to my Uniqua
you meet me in the backyard
Pablo watches from inside the house
Tasha cries in the corner
and your still here
but Anthony's not
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
*the sun swallows me whole
i dance around inside her mouth
i realize her rays only shine upon you*
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
I am fragile,
Yet I have known a sturdy heart.
And because I've had to carefully piece my heart back together in order to love you,
I know I am mendable.
At first, I was near positive I had only magnified your love for me because of my insecurities
But now I am everything except apprehensive.
My love feeds on your love
And that is how I know it exists.
This is how I know love exists:
Because one dark sky,
3,000 stars,
88 magnificent constellations,
and an extremely uncomfortable park bench told me so.
That night I walked barefoot through the tall grass until the feel of your warm breath on my neck lifted my heart so high I swore I might never find the ground.
And since that night,
I still never have.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
I never liked writing about beautiful things like the way your voice echoes in my ears when you come over in the morning to wake me with soft kisses. Or how we used to hold hands at 3 AM trudging blindly through December's icy breeze and how worth it the bitter cold wind was just to spend some time alone with you. Or how in the spring time, when the ice and sleet melted away exhaustingly into the ground, flowers would sprout up following your every step. They, too, knew your beauty. You're a 'worth it' type of person.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things because I never really knew how. My mind was a grave someone dug up and pushed me in and I could never find way to climb out. I would sit there, my body cold and full of rage and I would stain the walls with dark words. Destruction was the only form of creation I knew until your singsong voice lifted my heart so high I was dancing on the clouds.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things but you have features that every artist looks for in a muse. Your voice sounds like my favorite poem and if our love was a treadmill and the only way to keep it alive was to run, I'd never stop, even when my legs become heavy and shaky.
I never liked writing about beautiful things but I know how you whisper 'I love you' in a sleep daze and I adore your mouth when you lean to kiss me in a sleepy daze. You are beautiful when you are innocent. You are the only beautiful thing I've ever written about. And I will not be afraid of you or your scars as I know you don't fear mine. I will write a dictionary of all the words I've ever thought to describe you. I will write a novel about the scar under your eye. I will write poem after poem telling you, telling the world, that you are beautiful and I am not afraid to write beautiful words anymore. I will make sure to hold you on your bad days, my arms will bandage. I will take every photo you dislike of yourself and tape them to my mirror to show you I think you're incredible. I will brush every fallen eyelash off your cheek, wipe your mouth when it's ***** with crumbs, assume the role of caretaker when you're sick. I will do beautiful things for you because I can.
I will love you like I was never broken.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
My little Arizona dreamer,
You're the thinker for the world.
Your magnificent light draws me nearer to you.
But your arms push me far.
My little brown eyed bug,
Every element breathes in you.
How lucky I am to know that.
You crawl through the grass with ease, examining everything around you.
Learning.
My little runaway,
Your problems are merely an illusion.
Your heart is bigger than you think it appears.
I know it most of all.
My little glimmering beauty,
I can only hope I can one day be big enough to be the holder of your thoughts: the listener.
You, my dear, are above all else.
To me.
My little praying mantis,
Someday you'll take note of your rarity. You're so calm, appearing everywhere without invitation.
My heart, my mind, my dreams.
But when you appear, I stop to watch you.
Every time.
How selfish am I to call you mine?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
I know some things are better left unsaid but I'm having a difficult time cutting the transparent rope that tied my heart to yours.
I keep thinking: Should I call? Should I write? If I show up at your doorstep with a handful of feelings would it somehow make you want me again? I never knew that a heartbreak was something you could physically feel. I find myself curled up in bed with both hands over my heart as if I'd been shot. Because I know the arguments felt we were digging broken glass out of our palm lines but I've never known a pain like this. A pain so surreal I can feel it everywhere; it stings my heart, it sends throbs throughout my entire body, it pains my mind.
I dream of you every night. In my head we're dancing through open fields full of sunflowers. The sun reflecting our smiles, so bright and miraculous. That's how I know, deep in my core that I was happy with you. I've never known a love so magnificent it lights up a room full of nameless people. I've never loved a man so fully, to where every inch of my body screams his name.
Our hearts are connected in the most beautiful way: an invisible string. It can wrap around trees, buildings, and stretch across oceans and that string can never be broken or severed. Because the love two soul mates have is endless. They remain connected no matter the circumstances and their love lingers on
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Ten miles per hour, with smiles smeared onto our sweaty faces, we drive in silence, thinking.
Go.
Speeding through a yellow light, at twenty miles per hour, you turn the music up loud and glance at me. Wind whipping through the cars windows, tossing my hair every which way. Nothing else exists, just you and I in this timeless moment.
Thirty miles per hour. Screams of laughter and song lyrics spew out of the windows and into the night. Our singing voices bellowing through the warm Spring air. This very moment, I love you platonically. My heart bleeds emotion for you alone, I grip the steering wheel, and you grab my face and pull me in for a kiss.
At forty miles per hour,
we are in love.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
Hazelnut eyes,
Your smile is my morning coffee.
One shot of espresso, one kiss is all I need.
And I could go for hours upon hours talking about the way the thought of you holding my twists and turns inside my brain.
The soft sound of your lips curling into a smile across your mouth, barely audible, plays on a loop as I sip
My coffee, sweet as could be!
Your sleepy morning yawns are my sugar,
Your giggles, my milk.
Your delicious voice, carefully, speaking slowly
'I love you'
You say, and I know now why
I abandoned
Tea!
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Objects in life they call to me, To tell their story that eyes can’t see. Feelings too, ooh how the heart bleed, A long silent travel of a tumble **** Treasures and trinkets, Gods creatures and land, When pen meet paper there’s never a plan. Shall I shock, or keep safe, with words of charm, Be political, maybe cynical to all those that harm. Bring some light to a soul, Too dim to let go. Or inspire a dream with a promise to uphold, Or an adventure…exciting With all the things that unfold. All the time they scream At poor ole me, To be the first acknowledged By these ABC’s. In Ink, lead or computer screen.
By: Anthony BamBam!! Thomas aka God’s Monsta -
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
There were millions of other people that could have been here on this Earth in your place, but it was you that made it. It was you against all odds; blind and in the dark, you chased Gods Love and won.
We all love to be Winners and Champions. It breaks our heart to be called a Loser; that's why God made the beginning of our Existence a big race against millions, a race like you'll never be involved in again (millions entered, one (you) and only one (if your not a twin), Lived on, while the others perished. No one can or ever should call someone else a loser (we are a World of Champions)...because no race is more important than the race to Existence, and nothing won is more Valuable than the reward of God's Air, His Water, Grass, Mountains, our Universe, the Ability to and be Loved, but most of all and more importantly...God's Gift of Individuality and Choice.
We all are Winners, Champions of a Great Race Forgotten.
To call some one a loser is to call Our Great Creator and the manner in which we became to be, a lie.
By Anthony BamBam!! Thomas
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC