"benefactors" poems
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
Every self defeating metaphor anyone has ever birthed
A mug of orange juice in a giant’s hand
Three tablespoons of soil that you will misidentify as dirt
A motif specific to the reader
The sound of a tree falling alone in a forest
A manual titled Insects in the Garden of Today: Pests & Benefactors
Three redwood seeds in a row without pause
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.
Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not minors and invalids in a protected corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors, obeying the Almighty effort, and advancing on Chaos and the Dark.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
Mind,
stabbing at trauma,
so digusting.
But escape,
recognise the trauma of
the earth.
Given such devalued matter
to feed on
its whole existence,
yet
it always makes
something beautiful.
Blooming flowers,
lofty trees,
stormy mountains,
seven seas.
All the beauty in the world
created by
unappreciated benefactors.
Maybe
the repulsing brutes
that taunt me so
will grow into
something beautiful.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 3:27 AM UTC
House plants are hostages
we take while we rob
the bank of life for
all the experience notes we
can carry safely away.
We are using the funds
to build our vivarium
homes, microcosms of
the world beyond our walls
where we first glimpsed
the scheme.
The machinery of the world,
greased by blood and sweat,
remains beyond our control
while at large, yet
under our close supervision
we coax submission
out of our captives for
our own enjoyment:
selfish, ambivalently cruel
benefactors, dispensers of
our plants' waters of life.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
I celebrate this journey in the desert -
I am but a traveler in my time:
in this pasture of my fathers, land,
where stands this miracle of glass
now calling manna down
from the high home of eagles:
I am but a helpless everyman, lost
in the desert, on a journey out
from the clutches of misery, and pain;
The world is making progress.
As I see the oases running farther
away from my sights: on
elevators to the skies, numbers
of the young call on benefactors
across the seas, for a ropeway
across the quagmires: a home, a car
and the family life; saving for a
better day, in the future, while
my home went from mudbrick
to thatched grass, then out on streets
by the gutter with the dogs;
I am a cleaner, cobbler, janitor
in the land where I was the tiller.
Wiping the sweat on my brows
as I loaf on the lawns, awaiting
labour days hyphenated by mealtimes,
there is no witch-doctor now, and
no money to pay up at the hospitals
that the wealthy from afar line up to,
but to die helpless a wretched death,
I celebrate my helplessness!
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
They say beggars can't be choosers
And truer beggars there never were
Blessed with able minds
Bodies
Souls?
Lively and lithe, blessed by chance
Complaints for your coil;
an affront to existence!
Breathe easy, it's what we have
Stardust and daydreams,
pandering --
benefactors of infinite fortune
The stars have graced you
(once!)
with immutable form
So find grace.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
.
There was a time
when a poet was the bane,
a thorn in the side of fathers,
seeking to protect their starry eyed daughters,
to keep their virtue intact and pure,
from the menace of romantic verse,
and the lure of a handsome wordsmith.
There was a time
women would queue to be his muse,
pray to be the next broken hearted tragedy,
in rhymes penned by his stroking fingers,
the fulcrum of an adventure in love,
to fulfil their private fantasies of destiny,
being the plaything of word woven desire.
There was a time
ladies in lace and fur and of status
raided accounts of rich and flaccid husbands,
to bestow favour and gifts,
upon the man who turned them on,
with *** for their lust starved bodies
and soft words for sensitive emotional need.
There was a time
and now its has long gone,
the poet barely catches a beautiful muse,
hardly ever breaks a heart,
nor seduces a benefactors second glance,
leading her to book and bed,
as the world offers her distractions new.
© Pagan Paul (25/04/18)
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 5:49 AM UTC
In the battlefield of my benefactors
it is easy to die but so hard to live
oh this March of dark
my month of Hell
Watch me friends and haters alike
watch what is left of myself deconstruct
for silence is golden
I wish I never fell from heaven
This purgatory you left me in
please let me leave this place
it's twelve a clock
and all is lost
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
When they taught me I hardly paid them a heed
now I know my teachers were benefactors indeed
I regret the curses I held in my mind for them
their punishments were blessings not something to condemn!
Sadly those days they seemed to point their gun
on me for unlearned lessons homework not done
for such small lapses the teachers made a huge fuss
pulled my ears made me stand outside the class!
Some of them more zealous went a little far
caned hard on the back plucked out my hair
it appeared so barbaric at my expense their fun
they only knew it wouldn't harm me in the long run!
Such punishments I did never willingly embrace
ran around the room sending them on a chase
in fueled fury with faces in anger red
often flew their duster toward my head!
In life those torments have borne fruit
the running around standing on one foot
they have made my leg muscles quite strong
helped me hold my balance without support for long!
My ears too have still remained intensely keen
my hairs for my age haven't grown too thin
the pulling and plucking had done me no harm
but made my hair root healthy and firm!
*The teachers for sure were prudent and wise
punishment they meted out was blessing in disguise
so if you ever cursed them make amends and repent
say, thank you dear teachers for all the punishment!*
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
He comes out of his house, off into his ****** limousine,
The pride and glory of American handicraft,
Drives away past his main gate, guarded by a Luhyia national,
The nation from which watchmen are mass manufactured,
The gate is banged closed with a sharp emblem dominating;
tafadahli umbwa kali, please fierce dogs are in don’t dare enter,
when no piece of a dog is in, hen pecking husbands perhaps,
He drives away in low spirit, like the tail of a snake,
Sharply contrasting his tiger thoraxed debates in the parliament,
In defence of state corruption; Anglo leasing and her sisters,
The wife has chased out our state officer, his sole Succor,
of the night and chilly loneliness so nameless ,in the streets of Nairobi,
Is the epiphanous street of koinange, after Mbiu Koinange
The colonial orchestrator of intellectual globalectics,
He sired political immorality that sired social depravement,
To rove his avenues as the state and money capitalist
Convert beautiful daughters of the poor peasants
Into defenseless protégés of class misfortune
Roaming the back streets minus
Any lingerie in their bosoms.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
He stands mighty, glittering in the sunlight,
Majestic he seems, the tales do him no justice,
Forth from his lips come the sweetest voice,
“Is it not power and gold you seek,
Behind me in this cave treasure to shame the Aladdin tales,
So much lucre to color you pale,
All this is yours just for a favor I do gain,
Cadavers are all men so put them in their rightful place,
Spill their infidel blood and in God’s eyes be great”
In my mind I ponder,
Paradise lay a yonder,
From within me a still voice saves me from temptation’s fodder,
“Who are you to judge and point fingers?
Have your hands not reddened puddles,
Resist his lies for you have the treasure that all men need,
In you is great abundance,
For in that cave is a bottomless pit,
Where evil’s benefactors dwell in heat,
Therefore my dear boy resist.”
Now I know who stands before me,
His ugliness begins to sink in,
From him I turn triumphantly,
Deaf to temptation’s plea, he cannot stop me,
For he is powerless before men with roughened knees,
So from this fabled hill I descend,
Renewed and shocked by my ever present riches,
The real treasure has always been within me,
The power to love all men I see.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
A dangerous tool to grasp, some used it to break some to mend
Its been said that it goes back way beyond the beginning of time
Of course if someone was misusing it you'd know
The victims bear the scars whilst benefactors bear the smiles
Are we all just cursed? Do we all suffer from Shakespeare's Syndrome?
Couples get married and then divorce
But the love never dies, Shakespeare was right
The love is converted and transfered to the kids
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
One grain left my smile
identical twin of yours
didn't see it's mystery timely
my unwritable wrong
like me friend not foe.
Followers and sweetpie poets
did I ever tell you how I love you
grace, love is my other name.
In whatever bittersweet
circumstance stranger as I am
trustworthy like you I am,
giftedly understanding.
If not too intrusive of me,
find my heart of gold.
for your comfort it beats
for your eyes skips beats
any kindness is measured
priceless I won't judge you
dear poet friend or covert enemy
take another piece of me but look me in the eye tell me why I got no clue.
I am only human make mistakes, hardly a poetess a nobody
a mocked hero Mom
a surviving hate crimes fool
blind for love.
A lost and found sad clown
a mess in so many ways,
and all is my fault.
No I don't deserve none
of my ancient benefactors,
shameful defeat is deserved.
Poor Mr. triumph weeps
shivers shricks hides playing
hide and seek to love, to hope
to my intrusive gold
even my last dime.
~~~~~
By; Karijinbba
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 8:43 PM UTC
Tuffy skinned a cat
Behind Walker Bros. Stores;
He was probably in on
The sand-girl's situation,
But no one believes her;
Yet believe Tuffy capable of such.
He wrestled ostriches and kangaroos
At Jungleworld,
Real ones.
Some say the animals were old and drugged,
But Tuffy pinned them all the same.
Margo's house burned to the studs
Following her sex-driven ******
That was thirty years ago,
The same time Jungleworld,
With its spiders, snakes and caged bear
Died off with Tuffy and his peacock,
And the secrets of his take downs and holds.
I never saw Tuffy perform
His flaming knife-throws,
Destroying balloons between lips,
Slicing straps with his swordplay.
He would've thrived in Venice with Leonardo,
Dazzling Popes and Princes,
Who would be benefactors and patrons.
Tuffy would have lived in a villa,
On a mountainside, overlooking his audience,
And applauding them for their attention to detail.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
May in Kemah's new
dimension
May a girl be planted
and there she shall bloom
a Texas queen of song
of name and country
may a girl be reborn to grow
to play the game of canoe
with a cute little ruddy boy
by the Galveston's lake's shores
May the two bloom right
where planted near by
a boy and a girl living
perfectly safe childhoods
divine cherished and adored along with many brothers
and sisters
aunts and uncles cousins
all well to do educated gifted
talented society's best
of benefactors to humanity
famous among the elite most prestigious and highly intellectual entrepenours
So that boy and this girl
may grow up living
life to the fullest going to
same schools
loving the out doors under
the starry sky camp
marry and live happily ever
after in another life
In Kemah by Galveston shores
a cute boy and lovely girl shall find each other again
beautiful inside twin smiles outwards
as were in this lifetime
twin souls found again and again
both shall bloom where
planted intitled
timeless spaceless two as one
twin flame twin souls
~~~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
All rights reserved.
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 1:54 AM UTC
First off, let me start by saying I don't like you
Scared of you, but I'll be ****** if I don't fight you
Problem is, I've never seen you with a losing factor,
You and defeat really aren't benefactors
I remember Uncle Junior and his fight with you, *******
I remember as they put him under, the air filled with your laughter
It was maniacal, but final, another win in your column
And I'm waiting for the day that you'll hit rock bottom
It won't happen, it's saddenin', I'm realizin' what is happenin'
You're already winnin', your hold on me has been tightenin',
It's like you never miss a beat, even worse, you play for keeps
When I think you're figured out, your mask is crawling with deceit
But I hope you get this and memorize every line
Just know the war isn't over, my spirit's still shining bright
I dare you to write back, you're simply an enemy
I'll pray for your defeat...
Sincerely, Me
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Solemnity foreshortened--the press
of limbs...hence, the wide smile of
the enacted.
Our meeting ground shimmies
toward an eternal density...as to
alight the spiritual workload of its
benefactors.
A floating people, we...dead-stopped
by the ends of our living.
Lucidly signed away we progress
our will...no intervention dissuades
lesser or greater action/inaction.
Something's come, a brazen head,
revivified--its definitions alien
and wide open...wide open.
Eyes don reality as a membrane
just to conceive it--as there are
days when a flower of unspecified
genus is a terrible offering.
Our overcompensation precedes
us...it is our passion anticipating
itself.
For once fire knows of itself, it is too
settled to recall ash.
As...he/she lit their bastion of faith
without provocation.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
Waves of life
To moral roots
are beautiful
Treads of knowledge
healthy in reaction,
avoids negative stealth.
the Core
erasing unknowns
Gifting benefactors
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 10:50 PM UTC
Coming into this world with nothing, save for the benefactors who receive us
Slowly multiplying in an amalgamation of felt experience and ancient conditioning
Do we know the proliferation of thought?
A gradual awakening unfolds, with no beginning or end
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
Power-lines pulse over-head
easy streams by our quiet lives
the unarguable benefactors which
caress each man they touch
soldiers waging war on insurgents
with power-lines along the boarder
In this narcotic drip submergence
we lose our peace in the name of order
the egotists shout with their power-line minds
thoughtless words of each and every kind
At the promise of peace, wise men can see
the greatest peace springs from a tap into thee
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
The leaves first healthy and green
Reaching up to eternity
Then turning red, then gold and rust
And falling, translucent in their glory
Only their veins showing, organic lace;
The tree's honest history.
Only their slightly different shape
Remains a mystery,
Remembered by those who might've seen
As if in a fog, mistily
With just the few days of it's life
Lived blissfully.
These are the children, the ephemera
Of our trees
Giving, sharing, growing, expanding
Repeating generously
To populate our world with breath
Suffering death constantly
Being reborn silently to us;
Sentinels of majesty.
These are benefactors of life
For all of you and me
Casting themselves up from dirt
To our reality
Whether we believe it or know it.
They give voicelessly,
And that is what it means to be a tree
If you are leaves set free.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
If this is drunk,
please hand me stronger.
This body may be slow,
but the mind races ever harder,
an attempt to out run...
...sorry, caught myself thinking,
can't be my own enemy,
I've quelled this war once
and civility has a strained grasp
of these two pieces,
body conquered mind to conquer body,
failing to see benefactors true checking
the co-op abysmal...
the **** am I saying...
...now where'd I put that drink.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC