"banding" poems
A body and soul stretched to extremes
Yin and yang
The most and least of both worlds
Opposite sides of the coin
Cleansing and pure
Tainting and pitch
Light and dark
Of the purest white
And the most tainted black
Earth and air and fire and water and aether
Sun and rain
The brightest and hottest fires of sun
Beating and firing heat from the bottomless flames of hell
Breaking into a cold sweat without cease
The flaming evil of health
Rain and sun
The darkest and iciest rain of clouds
Pouring and drenching from the endless pools of heaven
Chilling into a cleansing soak never long enough
The freezing good of pain
The contradictions, the back and forth
The intelligent confusion
The stupid direction
The leather and biker tough guy
The shy and bookish sweet girl
The false realities and true lies
Love in strangers and indifference in close friends
Hope in troubled times and loss in peaceful
Banding together the unlikelies
Separating the probabilities
Pain in love and happiness
Contentment in fear and despair
The sound of one hand clapping.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
The film starts with narration from Mother Nature herself,
discussing an experiment with Father Time
that went horribly wrong; On the fictional island of Wongo
she has created a tribe where the men are brutish & ugly
& the women exceedingly beautiful.
She then creates another tribe on a nearby island called Goona
where the women are repulsive & the men are strong
and handsome; For years the two tribes lived unaware
of each other's existence, until ape men from across the
ocean attack the village of Goona. The tribe sends the son of their
king to seek help against the invaders.
The son finds the island of Wongo
the day before the village men are to pick their brides &
the women, seeing the handsome prince,
begin questioning their life among the ugly brutes
that dwell in their village. The men growing jealous
of their visitor, plan to **** him. The women of Wongo,
finding out about the plot, risk their lives to protect
the handsome prince, in doing so offending
the crocodile god of the Wongo people
[portrayed by stock footage of a crocodile
and rubber model]. The women are rounded up
by the village men & sent into the wilderness
until the reptile god has drawn blood for the slight;
The women banding together, watch each other's backs
until the ape men arrive at their village &
the women dispatch the invaders to their god,
the women then leave in search of the men
that had abandoned the island of Wongo.
In Goona, the men begin their rite of manhood,
in which they go into the jungle without weapons
for a month. The women of Wongo coming upon
the weaponless men, decide to take advantage
of their helplessness & one by one, claim them in marriage;
The film concludes with all the beautiful men and women married & the ugly men with the ugly women.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
1) (insert dessert name for skin here)
2) mysterious hair goddesses
3) the back wall of a hip hop video
4) temptresses of your own design
5) the entire land ruled by drama queens
6) your lowkey fantasy
7) your direct blame
8) the subset of a subset of a stereotype
9) the loud and proud
10) the celestial bodies walking through your neighborhoods
11) the only magic act you can see again and again and still not know how it works
12) not the Madea or the Precious, but somehow still the Madea and the Precious
13) trees banding together for the sake of their own leaves AND to sustain the forest
~~a.s.f.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
The Moon is a great actor
He plays many roles
A skilled magician
He can make himself disappear
He can be round and fat
Like he swallowed a cosmic balloon
Or so discrete--crescent shaped as a pastry
An angel seated upon his lap, lazily lounging in the night sky
He can be faint like a ghost
Filmy and smoky, most mysterious
Among the wispy clouds
Or as a big brother to the stars
He is an inspiration
A glorious night light
To awakened dreamers
And lovers gazing the heavens
He becomes a teacher
To various artists
Painters, poets and such
Immortalized in print, canvas and stone
He is an orchestra leader
To the howling wolves, banding in song
An icon of beauty to the human tribute
Towards him in musical rejoicing
He is a master of madness
Maybe in anarchy
One who takes much of the blame
For our odd and crazy behavior
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC
Will it ever truly be
Overboard? In my head?
Probably not
But surely in this vessel
I see the ships sails
They are a different color
Then when I was aboard
They've set new course.
Brash pirates of the mortal liquid
Banding themselves with inebriation
Been aboard I have
And in this life
Never again
When the fog clears
And the wreckage settles
I will gather the pieces
I am on my course
And my compass
Points true north
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Two hawks aloft
crows anxious banding together
neighbor comes over to my croft, likes the warm weather,
November
a California Christmas and maybe species will migrate to reflect that,
paints watercolor ornaments, gentle Jewish lady
how far from her past is she now? or is she quite aware just
not talking about it now
I wonder what she thinks the solution to Israel-Palestine might be
ask her sitting around the pool next summer
almost always disappointed people haven't given the single
state solution more thought
we discuss Thanksgiving, the cleaning and cooking before
and the cleaning after, then the insane Christmas potlatch
deciduous trees have a special winter beauty, conifers among them.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
Funny how it is.
A bright light, morphing through the clouds
The soft touch of droplets, melting into shingles
The only time you're really able to look.
Wandering along the roads and banding together, they are everywhere at once!
a political movement--libertines, belligerent against the rule of continuous airs
The princely stream that does not love them
Raised into fists, falling to bombard a defenseless floor, the poor baby of collateral
In it there is hope for the cloud
the ground does not mind being wetted again
Halfway around the world the deserts are still empty and warm, where the sands of oceans taste wind
On islands the land is a pinprick between a cloudy sea, it is green and bleeding and drinks in the light
All the baby birds of earth look up into the raining sky, asking for?
And given no answers with godly warmth.
I dream to show you this world of mine-- the one all too unreal and divine
You are a moment of rain, rapidly becoming Ingrained within the concrete
Lost in the forever of this place
I am greedy and wanting to leave my mark, I invent hydrocarbons to build smarter oxygen drops
they one day become us
They always become us
I am an early storm, violent and unkempt-- I seek immediate retribution,
I ravage the lands
With no further to go, I will dissipate
Precipitate
And give the light space to show.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
If you blame it on the rain
Better hope your not in pain
You'll get the thunder and lightening too
High winds and floods
Comming after you
While politcians court their lobby mistresses
They drown themselves in a lot of mischief
No banding together to get it passed
"A Health Care Bill"
We the people want at last
Many folks need it desperately
Now and in the future generations will seek it
From an illness to close to deaths ear to call
Blame it on the rain to surely fall
(upwc) 2009-by: Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 17, 2009 at 7:09 AM UTC
When one of your own is taken
It is natural to take someone In return
However when you scream race hate and turn around and burn down a town
You will never be treated as people but at as a problem
Now is not the time to riot, it is the time to reunite as a people
It is time to seek justice through a noble cause
It is time to make your voices heard without using fists
It is time to stand as one
Don't perish a boys memory with misdeeds and greed and burning violence
Honor it by banding together and offer a solution by peaceful means of absolute candor
Don't riot
Reunite
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
I look into the void that fills the halls of power and I get all confused. I look for distinguished statesmen in fine attire, but all I see are the animals running up and down a spire. There are old lions who have seen their better days with dingy coats and teeth that have bitten off more than they can chew. I see packs of wolves banding together giving anyone who challenges them an icy Arctic stare. Then there are Zebras that are constantly trying to change their stripes, as they prance to and fro trying to avoid any one position. I look on and see packs of Jackals with microphones and cameras. Hissing and growling as they snap at each other to get a word in edge wise. Then there are the Ostriches, who stick their heads in the sand or at least under their desk until what ever problem they are facing has passed. Such is the life in the halls of power also know as a Political zoo.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
The world is a dark and complicated morass,
Wherein countless lost children pass
In and out of the shadows and greet each other with a smile or a nod.
Isolated, lonely little hearts playing
With complex emotions in a word staying
Abreast of all the troubling events for better or worse.
Light and laughter dwells but a moment
In tender unions just before fears foment
A cascade of ****** worries filling up the eternal halls.
Then a single flame at first finds another
Huddling in the dark over scraps Mother
Left for kindling a fire in the depths of destitution.
At first the two but soon three and more
Shelter the faltering fire taking hold for
Reviving communion among the distanced souls.
As more join a bonfire starts and talking
Not just of pleasantries you hear while walking,
But of sincere connection between scared children discovering they can conquer the dark.
Some children still pass in the dark hall,
Knowing not the darkness nor how small
They really are in the scope of the full extent of the world.
But every once in a while, more often as it grows,
A child stops and really sees what the others chose
In banding about a fire fueled by the scraps of a difficult time.
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 8:01 AM UTC
Cats strayin’ high on Canal Street
Gangsta Grillz feelin’ tha beat
Open air market on Sunday night
African Bootleggin’ sellin’ alright
Sweet dreamz were set on fire
Life’s on tha line, if dats wat ya desire
Coming back to life, from deep down inside
Jesus hung with me, he waz on mi side
Let’s all do tha Whoolywood Shuffle
Don’t get in tha way or you be in trouble
Humpty Dumpty is back together again
Delivery is nuts, no buts, Amen
Drop tha bass, like a hot sorta guy
While white lab boys, be makin’ ya buy
99 cents, where’s tha beef in mi vege burger wrapper
Rubber-banding out so loud, **** dat mad hatter
Mi baby mama could neva just sit
Let tha hood hear just a wee lil bit
Crack it on up, in tha main trap house
Blue magic for real, like Mickey tha Mouse
East coast flow, wid a Southern kinda drawl
Come in or move on, just don’t crawl
Queens n Bronx, echoed down on Canal Street
Dum Dum Dum it was such a bubblin’ beat
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC
I pray the lord my soul to keep if I were to end up under a white sheet, hoping I don't get shot, pull out the glock, killing my people off because our melanin pops. Brothers and sisters banding together seems to shake you to your very core; terrified that we could be so much more; positive role models, with our beautiful excess pigmentation. We don't fit into your back drop; your white frame, we thought we had changed the game, escaped the chains but everything remains the same. Now we remain target practice for your racist game, you are drunk with power now, believing you are in control, ignorance is bless; but our indignation is the fist that will knock you out of your ignorant bless. I'm not saying they're all bad but the violence has to stop. #blacklivesmatter
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
~
The swelling brooks, so clear toned,
Rolling rounds over musical stones,
That unveil the rushed veins of May,
Race in wide cool stills, freshnesses,
Of the moistened soils overturning
And the chimes in the belled leaves,
Before they shout from buds keyed,
To syncopate in sun by bopping bees
Who buzz with jazzy pillowing waft,
Of daisy downs, in mid air to reeds,
Lips newly sprouted, banding green,
Groove myriad symphonies of colour
And the roots of trees tempo tapping,
Into waters plucked, earthy sounding,
All voice, with woodland birds, in joys
Do trumpet, O what new life to come.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
.
The swelling brooks, so clear toned,
Rolling rounds over musical stones,
That unveil the rushed veins of May,
Race in wide cool stills, freshnesses,
Of the moistened soils overturning
And the chimes in the belled leaves,
Before they shout from buds keyed,
To syncopate in sun by bopping bees
Who buzz with jazzy pillowing waft,
Of daisy downs, in mid air to reeds,
Lips newly sprouted, banding green,
Groove myriad symphonies of colour
And the roots of trees tempo tapping,
Into waters plucked, earthy sounding,
All voice in joys with woodland birds,
Do trumpet, O what new life to come.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
I was shattered completely within,
My eyes went off control;
I split into tears still relieved the treachery,
He* then provoked, “Eh girly men don’t cry!”
Then a squabble ran onto my mind;
Why don’t men cry?
You distill within, you calm thine down:
You hop, you break, of course you frown.
Tears just roll down, to calm thy within,
Banding the aid that you got to fit.
The purity lies in the tears,
They wash off one’s filth, soothe and revive;
Gives you the fortitude and a roar
“High time to break the concealed fear”
Don’t rub off thy moisture
Let it remind;
You are a pow than the people behind
Your soul soothes, thy mind blows;
Fade the horror your life shows.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 7:47 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
In a room full of sinners , there's girls , and there's boys, and there's false leaders
Planning and preying on all of the people,
People are starting to wake up and realize what's going on because of the misguided teachings,
Freeing your mind in this cruel world don't make you any less of a person , man it only gets lethal,
Banding together is the only way in this life , Maybe we should call a meeting.
Times are hard you see,
Suicidal teens , slowly increasing,
Into the furnace,
Brutal memories,
Clashing of teeth , hands out , say please,
Down into the furnace.
I never thought that we would make it far in this condition,
I never thought I could determine what this means,
I never thought that I would see the light of day again.
I never thought that I would kiss like what they did in movies,
I never thought that love would really deceive me,
I never thought that....
Everything would fall into place, at the wrong pace.
Times are hard you see,
Suicidal teens , slowly increasing,
Into the furnace,
Brutal memories,
Clashing of teeth , hands out , say please,
Down into the furnace.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 1:14 AM UTC
The world is ugly, and brutal,
but we can’t believe our attempts for change are futile.
It’s time for change, for better things ahead,
but we need to change together, too many have been left for dead.
Too much hate, and at this rate
we’ll all suffer the same fate.
Banding together,
we can form an unbreakable tether.
We need to take a risk, take a chance,
there’s so much to improve, so much to enhance.
It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen overnight
but this violence, this hate, won’t win this fight.
So I ask you to join me,
to hear this plea.
We want the same thing,
and we have to stand hand in hand for what change will bring.
We can make a difference,
we just need some assistance.
Together we’ll make it,
no matter how hard we get hit.
We’ll get back up, and keep moving
because this world is worth improving.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
Since the dawn of time,
Man has striven to understand
Why we exist and
How we were created.
We have formulated various
Answers to these burning questions
That are scorched in the minds of men.
An omniscient creator who lives up above,
Powerful beings that run everything from
Weather to fire to death to doors;
An explosion that created all that is known.
It is hard for men to comprehend something other than what
Has been taught to them;
Even those who believe in near indistinguishable concepts
Argue about the little details rather than banding together.
It is the duty of a government to allow this
Despite the unpalatable aspect of it.
We must allow individuals to have their own teachings;
Personal attachments must not come in the way of equality.
We must turn to our neighbors and voice,
"I do not agree with a word you say,
But I will defend to the death
Your right to say it."
We must embrace each other like distant relatives,
We must come together when the sun goes down,
Until dawn comes once more.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
"In this wilderness your bodies will fall - you will suffer for your sins and know what it is like to have me against you."
The guilty do NOT go unpunished!
Punishing the children to the third and fourth generation.
The promise remains - blood was spilled.
You will suffer for your unfaithfulness,
until the last of your bodies lies to rest.
Yes, you will suffer for your sins
and know what it is like to have me against you.
Banding against me you will meed your end,
Here you will die.
How long will you treat me with contempt?
I am slow to anger, abounding in LOVE - in your presumption,
I will beat you down.
Do not despise my word - follow me wholeheartedly and salvation will inherit the generous promise I made.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
never thought the day would come and I'd be out of the teens so soon. Everything just flashing back to when I was in elementary school,
to middle, to high school and up to now, I never seen this far into my life. I'm not ashamed of it, Nor am I afraid, I did not know what to expect. Being the youngest of the fam and going straight into the jaws of fate,
I've learned a great many views and perspective on life,
not saying I dramatically changed, but overtime things will begin to shed away, and a new skin will embrace the toxicity in this air we breathe.
My say for the past 12-ish years;
I've grown soft and plump and weak as a plum,
but I know I have the strength and courage overall.
Gutsy feelings that raged inside me when I was younger,
simple mistakes turned to tragedies and solved with a lecture.
With strength and resolve I've done things alone,
With my friends, family and also my home.
Things have changed and we have made our ways,
Yet still ignorant I still wish for better days.
Time speeds up and I follow along,
Leaving behind all that was that was one
One to change the ways of our days
Days that went away in one frightful sway
Swayed to stay afraid
Afraid of life and it's little wonders
The little wonders which were blurred by the illusion that we were destined to follow the great mission,
Yet my eyes have changed the day I saw The ideal.
Though reality and creativity are two separate things
One cannot exist without the other
Combined you have a greater ideal, a bigger path.
Conflicted, time waits, as it polishes the piece that will change the world,
For it is not the person nor the physical body that will always continue the mission,
But the ideal that continues to live on, passed down from generations and still recognized as if it had happened yesterday.
But all things can not be done alone, as time continues to stall
I begin to learn;
being alone is the beginning, banding together is the next step in my life.
This not a cry for help nor is it a stand for individualism,
This is my expression.
This is my love.
This is our world.
This is my say.
Just another day~~ soon!!
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
I'm hurting inside for the world we inhabit
We protest, burn flags, but ignore every homeless rabbit
When will we notice that we aren't the only ones fighting back?
That Nature is retaliating against us and planning to attack
We won't even give Her a voice
She has no choice and can't scream Her warnings and pleas
Soon we will be banding against not war but disease
What will it take for our nation to understand
Why can't we work as a planet and outstretch our hand
To rejuvenate the few salvageable pieces of land
Because what's the point of calling for change when we are losing our homes to our Mother's fists of rage
It brings me to tears and it breaks my lion heart because I can't come to grips with the extinction of our natural art
Law makers are seeing what we're doing with our signs and parades
Now it's time we understand Nature's game of charades
Because as the volcanoes erupt and tectonic plates shift
Our nations grows more divided with a widening rift
It's all we have left as a place to call home
Animals are going extinct and in a few years won't be known
Soon will the human race fall from the earth
And our daily phenomenon won't transpire like birth
We need to see what our own world is doing
With each passing day Her anger is brewing
We ripped Her to shreds and broke all Her limbs
Then we polluted Her waters with our oil seeking whims
We aren't looking with our eyes
We aren't heeding Her signs
When will the world stop being blind
Pick up the trash bags and leave the old ways behind
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:47 PM UTC
.
The swelling brooks, so clear toned,
Rolling rounds over musical stones,
That unveil the rushed veins of May,
Race in wide cool stills, freshnesses,
Of the moistened soils overturning
And the chimes in the belled leaves,
Before they shout from buds keyed,
To syncopate in sun by bopping bees
Who buzz with jazzy pillowing waft,
Of daisy downs, in mid air to reeds,
Lips newly sprouted, banding green,
Groove myriad symphonies of colour
And the roots of trees tempo tapping,
Into waters plucked, earthy sounding,
All voice in joys with woodland birds,
Do trumpet, O what new life to come.
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
felt, have you ever,
a world without fingers
,grooves,
or
edges of roughness?
it does not feel of anything
expect feeling more deeply
than hands ever have been.
Coming at the backs of your
eyes with peculiar easy intense
banding of unbroken shades
of light, it does not emit
a single colour instead
it fills with brief singular
tingling of being
a texture more wordless
in words uneasy to say
a poem of trite inevitable singing.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC