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Song one
This is a song about tarzanic love
That subsisted some years ago,
As a love duel between an English girl and an African ogre,
There was an English girl hailing along the banks of river Thames
She had stubbornly refused all offers for marriage,
From all the local English boys, both rich and poor
tall and short, weak or strong, ugly and comely in the eye,
the girl had refused and sternly refused the treats for love,
She was disciplined to her callous pursuit of her dream
to marry a mysterious,fantastic,lively,original and extra-ordinary man,
That no other woman in history of human marriage ever married,
She came from London, near the banks of river Thames,
Her name was Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill, daughter of a peasant,
She came from a humble English family, which hustled often
For food, clothing, and other calls that make one an ordinary British,
She grew up without a local boy friend, anywhere in the English world,
She is the first English girl to knock the age of forty five while a ******,
She never got deflowered in her teens as other English girls usually do
She preserved her purse with maximal carefulness in her wait for a black man,
Her father, of course a peasant, his trade was human barber and horse shearer,
Often asked her what she wants in life before her marriage, which man she really wanted,
Her specification was an open eyesore to her father; no blinkers could stave the father’s pale
For she wanted a black tall man, strong and ruggedly dark in the skin, must own a kingdom,
Fables taken to her from Africa were that such an African man was only one but none else,
His glorious name was Akhatembete kho bwibo khakhalikha no bwoya,
When the English girl heard the chimerical name of her potential husband,
She felt a super bliss in her spine; she yearned for the day of her rendezvous,
She crashed into desperate burning for true English love
With a man with a wonderful name like Akhatembete kho bwibo khakhalikha no bwoya.


Song two

Rumours of this English despair and dilemma for love reached Africa, in the wrong ears,
Not the human ears, but unfortunately the ears of the ogres, seasoned in the evil art,
It was received and treated as classified information among the African ogress,
They prevented this news to leak to African humans at all at all
Lest humans enjoy their human status and enjoy most
The love in the offing from the English girl,
They thus swiftly plotted and ployed
To lure and win the ******
From royal land;
England.




Song three

Firstly, the African ogres recruited one of their own
The most handsome middle aged male ogre, more handsome than all in humanity,
And of course African ogres are beautiful and handsome than African humans, no match,
The ogres are more gifted in stature, physique, eugenics and general overtures
They always outplay African humans on matters of intelligence, they are shrewder,
Ogres are aggressive and swashbuckling in manners; fear is none of their domain
Craft and slyness is their breakfast, super is the result; success, whether pyrrhic or Byronic,
Is their sweetest dish, they then schemed to get the English girl at whatever cost,
They made a move to name one of their fellow ogres the name of dream man;
Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha no bwoya,
Which an English girl wanted,
By viciously naming one of their handsome middle-aged man this name.

Song four

Then they set off 0n foot, from Congo moving to the north towards Europe abode England,
Where the beautiful girl of the times, Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill hail,
They were three of them, walking funnily in cyclopic steps of African ogres,
Keeping themselves humorously high by feigning how they will dupe the girl,
How they will slyly decoy the English village pumpkin of the girl in to their trap,
And effortlessly make her walk on foot from England to Africa, in pursuit of love
On this muse and sweet wistfulness they broke out into loud gewgaws of laughter,
In such emotional bliss they now jump up wildly forgetting about their tails
Which they initially stuffed inside white long trousers, tails now wag and flag crazily,
Feats of such wild emotions gave the ogres superhuman synergy to walk cyclopically,
A couple of their strides made them to cross Uganda, Kenya, Somali, Ethiopia and Egypt
Just but in few days, as sometimes they ran in violent stampedes
Singing in a cryptic language the funny ogres songs;

Dada wu ndolelee!
Dada wu ndolelee!
Kuyuni kwa mnja
Sa kwingile khundilila !

Ehe kuyuni Mulie!
Ehe kuyuni mulie!
Omukhana oyo
Kaloba khuja lilia !
They then laughed loudly, farted cacophonously and jumped wildly, as if possessed,
They used happiness and raucous joy as a strategy to walk miles and miles
Which you cover when moving on foot from Congo to England,
They finally crossed Morocco and walked into Europe,
They by-passed Italy and Spain walking piecemeal
into England, native land of the beautiful girl.

Song  five

When the three ogres reached England, they were all surprised
Every woman and man was white; people of England walked slowly and gently
They made minimum noise, no shouting publicly on the street,
a stark contrast to human behaviour and ogre culture in Africa, very rambunctious,
Before they acclimatized to disorderly life in England, an over-sighted upset befell them
Piling and piling menace of pressure to ****,
Gripped all the three ogre brothers the same time,
None of them had knowledge of municipal utilities,
They all wanted to micturated openly
Had it not been beautiful English girls
Ceaselessly thronging the streets.



Song six

They persevered and moved on in expectation of coming to the end,
Out-skirt of the strange English town so that they can get a woodlot,
From where they could hide behind to do open defecation
All was in vain; they never came to any end of the English town,
Neither did they come by a tumbled-down house
No cul de sac was in sight, only endless highway,
Sandwiched between tall skyscraping buildings,
One of the ogres came up with an idea, to drip the ****
Drop by drop in their *******, as they walk to their destiny,
They all laughed but not loudly, in controlled giggles
And executed the idea minus haste.

Song seven

They finally came down to the banks of river Thames,
Identified the home of Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill
The home had neither main gate nor metallic doors,
They entered the home walking in humble majesty,
Typical of racketeering ogre, in a swindling act,
The home was silent, no one in sight to talk to
The ogres nudged one another, repressing the mirth,
Hunchbacked English lass surfaced, suddenly materialized
Looking with a sparkle in the eye, talking pristine English,
Like that one written by Geoffrey Chaucer, her words were as piffling
As speech of a mad woman at the fish market, ogres looked at her in askance.

Song eight

An ogre with name Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya opened to talk,
Asked the girl where could be the latrine pits, for micturation only,
The hunchbacked lass gave them a direction to the toilets inside the house,
She did it in a full dint of English elegance and gentility,
But all the ogres were discombobulated to their peak
about the English latrine pit inside the house,
they all went into the toilet at the same time,
to the chagrin of the hunchbacked lass
she had never seen such in England
she struggled a lot
to repress her mirth
as the English
never get amused
at folly.




Song nine

It is a tradition among the ogres to ****,
Whenever they are ******* in the African bush,
But now the ogres are in a fix, a beautiful fix of their life
If at all they ****, the flatulent cacophony will be heard outside
By the curious eavesdroppers under the eaves of the house,
They murmured among themselves to tighten their **** muscles
So that they can micturated without usual African accomplice; the tweeee!
All succeeded to manage , other than Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
Who urinated but with a low tziiiiiiii sound from his ***, they didn’t laugh
Ogres walked out of privities relaxed like a catholic faithful swallowing a sacrament,
The hunchback girl ushered them to where they were to sit, in the common room
They all sat with air of calm on their face, Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
led the conversation, by announcing to the girl that he is Victoria’s visitor from Africa,
To which the girl responded with caution that Victoria is at the barbershop,
Giving hand to her father in shearing the horses, and thus she is busy,
No one is allowed to meet her, at that particular hour of the day
But he pleaded to the hunchback girl only to pass tidings to Victoria,
That Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya from Africa
Has arrived and he is yearning to meet her today and now,
The girl went bananas on hearing the name
The hunch on her back visibly shook,
Is like she had heard the name often,
She then became prudent in her senses,
And asked the visitor not to make anything—
Near a cat’s paw out of her person,
She implored the visitor to confirm
if at all he was what he was saying
to which he confirmed in affirmation,
then she went out swiftly
like a tail of the snake,
to pass tidings
to her sister
Victoria.


Song ten
She went out shouting her sister’s name,
A rare case to happen in England,
One to make noise in the broad day light,
With no permission from the local leadership,
She called and ululated Victoria’ name for Victoria to hear
From wherever she was, of which she heard and responded;
What is the matter my dear little sister? What ails you?
Akhatembete Khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya is around!
She responded back in voice disturbed by emotional uproar,
What! My sister why do you cheat me in such a day time?
Am not cheating you my sister, he is around sited in our father’s house,
Is he? Have you given him a drink, a sweet European brandy?
My sister I have not, I feared that I may mess up your visitors
With my hunched shoulders, I feared sister forbid,
Ok, I am coming, running there, tell him to be patient,
Let me tell him sister just right now,
And make sure you come before his patience is stretched.





Song eleven

Victoria Goodhamlet Lovehill almost went berserk
On getting this good tidings about the watershed presence,
Of the long awaited suitor, her face exploded into vivacity,
Her heart palpitating on imagination of finally getting the husband,
She went out of the barber shop running and ululating,
Leaving her father behind, confounded and agape,
She came running towards her father’s main house
Where the suitor is sited, with the chaperons,
She came kicking her father’s animals to death,
Harvesting each and every fruit, for the suitor,
She did marvel before she reached where the suitor was;
Harvested ten bananas, mangoes and avocadoes,
Plums, pepper, watermelons, lemons and oranges,
She kicked dead five chicken, five goats, rams,
Swine, rabbits, rats, pigeons and hornbills,
When she reached the house, she inquired to know,
Who among them could be the one; Akhatembete Khobwibo
Khakhalikha no bwoya, But her English vocals were not guttural enough,
She instead asked, who among you is a key tempter go weevil car no lawyer?
The decoy ogre promptly responded; here I am the queen of my heart. He stood up,
Victoria took the ogre into her arms, whining; babie! Babie, babie, come!
Victoria carried the ogre swiftly in her arms, to her tidy bed room,
She placed the ogre on her bed, kissed one another at a rate of hundred,
Or more kisses per a minute, the kissing sent both of them crazy, but spiritual craft,
That gave the ogre a boon to maintain some sobriety, but libido of virginity held Victoria
In boonless state of ****** feat, defenseless and impaired in judgment
It extremely beclouded her judgment; she removed and pulled of their clothes,
Libidinous feat blurring her sight from seeing the scarlet tail projecting
From between the buttocks of the ogre, vestige of *******,
She forcefully took the ogre into her arms, putting the ogre between her legs,
The ogre’s uncircumcised ***** effectively penetrated Victoria’s ****** purse,
The ogre broke virginity of Victoria, making her to feel maximum warmth of pleasure
As it released its germinal seed into her body, ecstasy gripped her until she fainted,
The ogre erected more on its first *******; its ***** became more stiff and sharp,
It never pulled out its ***** from the purse of Victoria, instead it introduced further
Deeper and deeper into Victoria’s ******, reaching the ****** depth inside her with gusto,
Victoria screamed, wailed, farted, scratched, threw her neck, kissed crazily and ******,
On the rhythms of the ogre’s waist gyrations, it was maximum pleasure to Victoria,
She reached her second ****** before the ogre; it took further one hour before releasing,
Victoria was beaten; she thought she was not in England in her father’s house
She thought she was in Timbuktu riding on a mosquito to Eldorado,
Where she could not be found by her father whatsoever,
The ogre pulled Victoria up, helped her to dress up,
She begged that they go back to the common room,
Lest her father finds them here, he would quarrel,
They went back to the common room,
Found her father talking to other two ogres,
She shouted to her father before anyone else,
That ‘father I have been showing him around our house,’
‘He has fallen in love with our house; he is passionate about it,’
Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya was shy,
He greeted the father and resumed his chair, with wryly dignity.


Song twelve
An impromptu festival took place,
Fully funded by the father of Victoria,
There was meat of all type from pork to chicken,
Greens were also there in plenty, pepper and watermelons,
Victoria’s mother remembered to prepare tripe of a goat
For the key visitant who was the suitor; Akhatembete,
Food was laid before the ogres to enjoy themselves,
As all others went to the other house for a brainstorming session,
But the hunched backed girl hid herself behind the door,
To admire the food which visitors were devouring,
As she also spied on the table manners of the visitors, for stories to be shared,
Perhaps between herself and her mother, when visitors are gone,
Some sub-human manners unfolded to her as she spied,
One of the ogres swallowed a spoon and a table fork,
And Akhatembete khobwibo khakhalikha nobwoya,
Uncontrollably unstuffed his scarlet tail from the trouser,
The chill crawled up the spine of hunchbacked girl,
She almost shouted from her hideout, but she restrained herself,
She swore to herself to tell her father that the visitors are not humans
They are superhuman, Tarzans or mermaids or the werewolves,
The ogre who swallowed the spoon remorsefully tried to puke it back,
Lest the hosts discover the missing spoon and cause brouhaha,
It was difficult to puke out the spoon; it had already flowed into the stomach,
Victoria, her father, her mother and her friend Anastasia,
Anastasia; another English girl from the neighborhood,
Whom Victoria had fished, to work for her as a best maid, as a chaperon,
Went back to the house where the ogres had already finished eating,
They found ogres sitting idle squirming and flitting in their chairs
As if no food had ever been presented to them in a short while ago,
One ogre even shamelessly yawned, blinking his eyes like a snake,
They all forgot to say thanks for the food, no thanks for lunch,
But instead Akhatembete announced on behalf of other ogres,
That they should be allowed to go as they are late for something,
A behaviour so sub-human, given they were suitors to an English family,
Victoria’s father was uneasy, was irritated but he had no otherwise,
For he was desperate to have her daughter Victoria get married,
He had nothing to say but only to ask his daughter, Victoria,
If she was going right-away with her suitor or not,
To which she violently answered yes I am going with him,
Victoria’s mother kept mum, she only shot miserable glances
From one corner of the house to another, to the ogres also,
She totally said nothing, as Victoria was predictably violent
To any gainsayer in relation to her occasion of the moment,
Victoria’s father wished them all well in their life,
And permitted Victoria to go and have good life,
With Akhatembete, her suitor she had yearned for with equanimity,
Victoria was so confused with joy; her day of marriage is beholden,
She hurriedly packed up as if being chased by a monster,
Sana Jan 2015
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave

Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
True, the brightest light casts the darkest shadow but it is in darkest that brightest embers can be found.
"Inside the womb, silence whispers;
Darkness wombs the light
Raging storms give birth to light"

Our fate is storm,
We are the light
We are the raging storm
Andrew Rueter Jan 2018
I'm a relationship engineer
Building engines to persevere
Through the loneliness I fear
That makes me panic
And seek out a mechanic
That tinkers
With my blinkers
But doesn't fix a thing
When I'm left with a sting
From what's defined as a fling

My pistons pumping
The way I'm *******
When I find a rocket scientist
That formulates the highest bliss
In his carefully calculated kiss

But I start to viciously *****
When our problems are subatomic
Because every decision
Creates nuclear fission
Which causes decay
And explosions of energy
His thoughts he relays
He sees me as the enemy

So I find a Christian
To pump my pistons
He has the morals of God
Which I figure can't be flawed
Though they may seem odd

But he doesn't love me
He feels he's above me
He acts like a martyr
Which makes me fall harder
But I'm left alone on the cross
He has forsaken me
He thinks I'm made of frost
He has mistaken me
I feel alone
In the brimstone
Of his dial tone

I found loneliness
In their phoniness
My engine needs trust
Otherwise it develops rust
But when everyone tries to act cool
Pain becomes my alternative fuel
Love once seemed like a jewel
Until my blood made a pool
I tried to get repairs
To find that nobody cares
I learned that science
Was of no reliance
And the pious life
Brought riot strife
So I find nowhere to turn
While my engine burns
David R Jul 2021
we told you so,
years ago,
we said we know
the weather flow

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


for several decades
we show'd graphs 'n grades
as world decayed
it's no charade

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


we gave you ample warning
of the global warming
of the storm that's storming
the troubles that'll come swarming

you said:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


and now it's here,
you see the fear,
the effect severe
for your near and dear

let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers


it's too late now to turn back
we're on a one-way running track,
humanity's tired of your wise-crack,
there's gonna be a counter-attack.

altogether now:
let's put on our balaclava
our ear-muffs and our blinkers
let's hear no more of this palaver
of know-alls and world thinkers
.
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#palaver
Why are you stretching around?
Like a crazy creature, stretching
And erecting at every bossom’s sight
Don’t you know this to be vile?
Behavior so uncouth and basest
That all men on earth dislike,

Leave me alone master, leave me alone
Show me a happy man without a ****,
I will show you the sorriest point on earth,
Which woman burst not with ecstasy?
On taste of my nature, which woman?

Shut up you sly creature
And manage you mandibles,
You always stretch and stretch
As if you want to lacerate my muscles,
Don’t you know that you put me in risk?
*** is all over and you stretch like crazy,

Leave me alone and let me stretch,
Don’t fear disease and risks,
For *** is now impotent
***** blood is now natured
Above any nonsensical vice
Like *** and his brothers,

Stop stretching or I chop you off
I don’t want any burden of next kid
I am not in any pocket fitness,
For one more mouth and one more ****,

You are a foolish coward
You fear even your success,
Who told you kids are a burden
And parenting a curse?
Beautiful liars taught you these,
Can’t you see china and Islamic State?
Declaring their muscles and mighty,
For no other reason but children
Surest quivers needed in your arch,

For sure don’t stretch, calm down
And stay balmy or I tear you off my torso
Where will I get land in this world?
To contain the useless proceeds
Of your raucous *****?

I am tired of cautioning you
Or I dare you and dare you again
That perhaps I am on the wrong body
Those who are few need land,
But those who are populous need not,
For their victuals come from tertiary means,

I am finally tired of your rudeness,
If you stretch again I will be irate,
As it will be uncouth act of mannerlessness,
For you surely know that my wife is aged
She shares not in your school anymore
If you stretch again know then that you’re vile,

Look again at your thoughtlessness
Who told you that I am condemned forever?
To be feeding on old women, harridans and *****?
I no longer want them on my ****** menu
Feed me on the young wenches in a polygamous fit,
For the elders like you and many others on earth,
will only renew their  old sinews
By merely feeding on the French chicken,

Then you persist in one line like the possessed
Are you possessed by the ****** devil?
I don’t have any ****** energy for your business,
You only put me into a desire for what I cannot eat,
Leave me alone by quitting your vicious *******,

Fear not at all for how you will eat,
You fail to enjoy because of your ego,
You focus on the finish line alone,
Remember  the process in coition,
Tighten you **** to delay *******
And here you will cogitate with gusto,

Negroes! Negros! All over the world,
Again you want me to make more Negros,
Be aware that your melanin is an eyesore
The world looks at you but in pain,
Suppliers of blinkers cannot quench,
The thirst for these wares,
With which the world can put on,
To ward off the pains in the look
At the skin of the *****,

Fear not Negros don’t create themselves,
They come from the supremo of deities
All creation is beautiful in wisdom’s eyes
Whoever that hates creation hates the self
No other act can then match the wickedness.
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)



In response to the United States versus European Union  deliberations on Ukrainian- Russian stalemate  that were concluded on 25th may  2014 at Brussels , in which President Barrack Obama looked at the Putin’s political  behaviour in global set up of the postmodern era as a weakness, I beg to take my position within my capacity as global citizen, to go contrary to this stand of Barrack Obama by positing that President Vladimir Putin is a fact of global urgency , but instead it is Obama who suffers from universal class intellectual deficiency often  observed as insensitive rhetoric but branded as unmatched eloquence.
Firstly, let me give the sequential enumerations of facts which validate my position and hence this discourse. Barely the facts are; Ethnicity, Islam, terrorism, Guantanamo prison, Sino-African relations,Arab-springs,politics and human psychology and American political culture as state and an international citizen.
President Obama has always refused and rejected his ethnic connexion with Africa, he always refer to Africa as the land of ancestors. This is a stand that has most irritated Africans. Both in Africa and in the diaspora. Obama never learned a simple pre-industrial wisdom that every man needs ethnic identity for positive reasons. Because as per now Obama still stands as a Kenyan and as well as an American. This connotes a political fact that he is neither a complete Kenyan nor an absolute American in terms of political emotionalism. The empirical position of all these abode in the fact that there are a thousand and one Americans who feel politically belittled to be led by a first generation African American. Thus, a leadership fact has to be indentified in this juncture by inferring that, their voter consciousness as Americans is not fit to be crystallized as emotional resource to be enjoyed by Obama politics. In a sharp contrast Vladimir Putin has acquired substantial political strengths from positive recognition of Russian ethnicity. Putin recognizes Estonia, Crimea, Georgia, Serbia, Moldova and all small and poor lands around Russia in terms of ethnic connection to Russia. He calls these lands as the dear burial grounds in which Russian military heroes were buried. In a comparison, America has a lot of racial connection with Africa, but president Obama has earnestly worn blinkers on this. He only looks at Africa skeptically as a land of injured civilization in which terrorists abode. He has been wrong. African folk wisdom has a lesson that, you may not need your tribe in peace, only to need it in war.
Why did president Obama masquerade as a Muslim when he was vying for his first term? Moslems feel that he duped them only to turn around and **** their leaders. In Islam it is a heinous sin to pose as a Muslim when you are not one. President Obama mobilized the plotting which had to occasion the killings of Muammar Gadaffi and Osama Bin Laden. These two incidents fuelled high strength in anti-American feelings among the societies of the Arab world. Reasons are that both Gadaffi and Bin Laden deserved fair trial the same way Henry Kissinger was not tried when he perpetrated macabarous mass killing in Vietnamcong war. Muslim community least expected financial and ideological funding of the political hullabaloo known as the Arab Spring, through which heroic Moslem leaders were killed, to come from Obama government. But the contrary was surprisingly a fact. The meaning of this is that , in this tussle of show of mental mighty between Putin and Obama, All African and Arab states are behind Putin, China is behind Putin. Maybe it is Tanzanian and Ghanaian presidents who are in Obama camp, but not the Moslems in Tanzanians and Intellectuals in Ghana. The perceived rationale for this positioning inter alias is that the Number of North African Moslems in Guantanamo prison is the highest of all the detained terrorist suspects.
China is all over Africa today; African schools are teaching Chinese languages with passion more than they do with English language. The University of Nairobi in Kenya, has established the most prestigious Kungu Fu tze institute. Students in this institute are more self-confident and hopeful than those in schools of English and literature. China has designed a special business city for Africans, known as the chocolate city. Africans are more dignified in this city than their counterparts in Chicago.Negroes in Chicago of today still taste a vestigial pepper of negative racism on daily basis. All these conditions have graduated into appalling status from George Bush high school to Barrack Obama state University. These at times confirm the Russian Joke that Barrack Obama is an avatar of George Bush without a Nobel Prize. A political condition not evident during the Reagan and Clinton administration. Obama did not benchmark the shrewd equation of Vladimir Putin; good politics is equal to putting people at center stage.
Psychology of politics has a theory that being eloquent is not a connotation of political effectiveness. It may be sheer rhetoric. This is not a necessary variable for effective policy formulation and implementation. History of politics also has a testimony in confirmation of the same. The French society goofed when it fell victim of Napoleon eloquence, same to the Germans when they became emotional captives of Adolf ****** due to the razor sharp garrulousness of Adolf ******, which he adopted when selling **** values to German voters. In Africa Tanzania is the poorest country without hope of initiating any development this century. And all this is a preposterous protégé of utopian communalism planted through eloquent tools of prosaic socialism wielded by the articulate Julius Nyerere. The American society has also gone into annals of history to have collectively failed in its political choices as a national society by succumbing to rhetorical but policy insensitive conference management knack of the one Barrack Obama. These have happened in a capitalist conduit in which capitalism is killed by its success, just the same way which ignorance is never murdered but at most commits suicide.


Alexander K Opicho, is a social researcher at Sanctuary Research agencies ltd., in Eldoret, Kenya.  He is also a lecturer for Governance Research Methods.
Leigh Mar 2015
Wincing at the light, I deprive myself;
Take in an uneven frame.
With lowered brows and interminable thoughts
I pass it all by,

Float and reflect on the detail
Never seen,
Convinced I experienced it all,
Scratching in the rest;

I tear in the blue sky and smear the
Breaking waves;
I become more an object of scorn as the greens
And greys of the cliff side are marred,

Framed in the corner of an eye.
I have a tendency to get stuck in my head while I'm out. I have trouble switching off and taking everything in. I call myself an observer but miss so much due to an over-active head. This was written about how much I missed the last time I took a long cliff walk near where I live on a nice day not so long ago. I gleaned nothing worthwhile from my absence that day, or any other.

.
CAR BLINKERS ALWAYS REMIND ME OF YOU BECAUSE I NEVER KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN I'M DRIVING JUST LIKE I NEVER KNEW WHAT TO EXPECT WITH YOU AND I SAY THIS BECAUSE YOU NEVER GAVE ME A ******* SIGNAL THAT YOU WERE GOING TO TAKE THE NEXT EXIT OUT OF MY LIFE YOU JUST ******* MERGED AND WERE OUT OF SIGHT
Samuel Apr 2012
there is no breath when
you join my world, only
snug bundles of air ******
in
   between smiles

one of these days, I'm
living here
             listen (for me) like
people once read and
found reasons to grow
another few inches

(and to know) you
are the (fire's silver)
heartbeat!

/

nobody is masterful
to the undoubtable "I
have a word for this", no
suggestion 
          someone should try

/

there is no breath, (no
pause) when you join my
world
              only a warped sense
of direction, a shift in gravity
joining, warming faces

do you feel me?
filled with verses, lost in words?

/

will we go together?

dream how the
days flame when you
join my world (and
    when you
            remember it)
warm and fuzzy feeling
I'm reeling this evening
in on a thread
of hope
Bathsheba Feb 2011
WOMEN

I cast you out for pandering your ***

WOMEN

You are shameful

On you

I gift this hex:

If you need to be the object of manly gratification
If you have no interest in the freedom or the liberation
Then your life will now be governed by the exploitation
A vessel pure and simple for man’s *******


WOMEN

You are worthless

**** upon my shoe

Read between the lines my friend

Figure out the *clue


For it is in here somewhere

Deep within this write

Nothing's ever as it seems

Nothing's black and white

WOMEN

Does a bloke walk round?

With his ***** hanging out?

Does he emphasize his testicles?

Does he bandy it about?

I think you know the answer

Just stop and use that brain

Then maybe in the future

Equality will rightly be reclaimed

But all the time you flaunt your ****

****** you ***** in their face

You, my friend

To the sisterhood

Are a ******* skanky **** disgrace

Wake up and smell the Costa

For conditioning is wrong

You need to understand

You cause The Cause to be prolonged

This is my stand

I hold my own

I’m never fazed

By stick nor stone

For I know deep within my heart

The value of my worth

I will never sell my principles

For merriment or mirth

*So … please …. just take a moment

To digest

The words within this write

Unharness faux benevolent blinkers

Because this is our absolute pre-emptive right
Amy Holmes Mar 2013
Dark were the days immediately prior to my rebirth.
It was at this peculiar time that I realized the potential of endless thought and kicks.
The strain of giving and taking and finding the time to be free within our minds.
Drink from the actions of others, and your reactions to things that may not be there at all.
And with this creation spirals.
Endless circles and boxes. To abandon expectation is to be free.
And to realize the notion that creation and trailing inspiration is free and easy and limited only to what we have not yet perceived for references sake.
I would rather live in pain than not live.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.

Reaching out for the time when love was not such a filthy word.
And when cities were undauntingly small.
I am not so saintly as to resist habit.
I have the same fantasies again and again.
This wine tastes like bile but I continue to drink.
And here I must face the sad realities.
The two great monsters and the ends of this town lay dormant, but present, and stare each other down.
We can exist above this charade within an insular dimension.
Blinkers on. Hats off to us.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.

A rare moment of absolute clarity, although I do not know the cause.
Is it escape from fear? Or the complete realization of my fear of death?
But its liberating.
A vision of all of the things that I could achieve.
Its not dark.
Its blinding light.
I plan to exist inside this.
And from each rebirth, this is what will save me now.

Feverish were the days before I lost it completely.
I strive to surprise.
I could never have imagined a reaction so pleasant and so true, however confrontation never did suit.
On the edge of a precipice, and a dark one at that.
The uncertainty concerning my own actions is tantalizingly distressing.
Maybe I'll go.
Maybe tomorrow.
In this rebirth,, I've lost what would once have saved me.

And so they're leaving me behind.
But who knew we could go so long without sleep.
And this insular spectrum is a quagmire of guilt and filth, Population One.
So maybe I'll fall.
Sink.
And ultimately, typically, drown.
Exactly like the specter that occupies my nightmares.
It was at this time that I realized perhaps I did not require solace.
From each twist of the spirit.
From each crisis.
From each glimpse into the face of the supernatural presence.
From each destruction and from each rebirth.
I do not wish to be saved.

Onward with a maverick as acting muse.
A Brave New World.
A brave new identity.
We drank poison for breakfast again.
It's the sound of the Bell's and feedback from before we were born.
After much argument, we arrive together.
As a single insecure unit.
A giant trembling insect.
And we both wonder if our voyage into the strangely familiar was worth our energies.
I fell.
And this was the fate that received me.
I asked for revolution.
I received only murmurs.

I often wish I were a caricature.
So I drink up like a ***** and call myself vain.
And now I feel like death cooled down.
It's rickety and transitional.
I need escape and asylum.
I Must Not Turn Around.
This state of flux is torture and consumption.
I will listen to the same sounds over and over.
Becoming completely self absorbed.
I wonder if I'll always remain the same.
Or if I'll substitute.
For once, a new universe.
There is only superficial light.
Mere crackles and cackles outside.
It was at this time that I came upon the realization that I am identical.
I could not tell one pig from another.

So I shuffle back behind the curtain.
It's safe here, for now.
Concealed by distraction.
Keep the screaming child at bay.
I collapsed on the bridge.
Four walls are stormed.
The absurdity of changing colour and the god-like relevance of this was like an electrode to the brain.
For a while we sat still.
It was at this time that I chose the most difficult avenue.
From this rebirth I'm putting myself in the hands of another. This will not save me.

I'm struggling, I'm scared, and I'm sorry.
If I expose myself, if I stick out my tongue would you do the same?
I am quite prepared to gaze into the eyes of the monstrous spider.
And accept one world over another.
Its the clambering back and forth I cant stand.
An ascent into Purgatory,
Chaos,
And finally, perhaps, Madness.
st64 May 2013
choo choo

next stop.....perdition

(no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity)


1.
look how Time doth ravage thee
look what it did to thy visage
in smithereens, lies youth
it so artfully takes away
what is held so dear

rivers and streams
valleys and hills

arching to ecstatic heights
plunging to abysmal lows

into the ravine of chance
stirred by the spoon of Time
slowly around the cauldron
brews the self-same mixture
then poured into chasms of forgetfulness

using the eternal sledgehammer
it
smashes the foundation of thought
grinds the nutmeg of speed
pulps the fruit of mentality
slows the pulse of sensation

and pardons none.


2.
what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips
now are merely two dry slits on your face

once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over
vitreous cataracts steadily grow, ****-like

toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch
away into forever, a pale platform to walk on

life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting
clouded and bedimmed by mists of age

butterfly's existence outweighs a man's
by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight

draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes
the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun.



3.
crimp
sag
limp
drag

mud cracks down a dipping dale
scalding pain sears sore half-foot

yes, time is but a disease
ravaging all
without fear or favour

sunken eyes
slower reflexes
tardier mind
scraggly body


hides not
condescends not
forgets not

the glimmer of ....
a time of ...


4.
cathedral invites the walker in
cool and calm recesses
sit silent
wait....

then *they
walk in, carrying
one who had but a lucky half-score lot

clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat
announcing the folly of stifling ego

now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour
beams of mercy cast a final look-see
jump the barriers of
time
to
carry thee off.



pipe *****-stops are pulled out



(art thee ready?  platform number 5)



S T,  9 May 2013
How age doth touch the brow of one and all.

Looking at pictures of and being inspired by the writing of esteemed Anglo-American writer W. H. Auden (born in 1907, York, UK - died in 1973, Vienna).


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
    doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Big Virge Nov 2020
Ya Know......

These Days I’m MORE Discerning....
When Studying My Learnings...

of How Some Minds Be Working...

Because To Me...
It’s Quite DISTURBING... !!!!!!

From TWERKING To Jerking...
Most Now Seem QUITE CERTAIN.... !!!

That SWITCH LANE Type FLIRTING...
Is Just A... NEW VERSION...
of ****** Type YEARNINGS... !!!!

Well These Days I’m Smirking...
From Things I’m OBSERVING...

Cos’ I’m MORE of A THINKER...
Than Those Who Wear BLINKERS... !!!!

And These Days TOO MANY... !!!
Are CLEARLY... UnSteaDy... !!!
And Seem To Be READY...
To... ARGUE Their Point...
Like Some Kind of OINK... !?!

By This I Mean... WELL...
Heads That Now SWELL...
With Thinking That Dwells...

Somewhere... UNWELL... !!!
And I DON’T MEAN Hell... !!!

Somewhere MUCH WORSE.... !!!!!
Because Their Heads HURT... !!!

From Thought Waves That SMELL...
of Somewhere Where THINKING...
Is CLEARLY Left... SINKing... !!!!!

... TITANICALLY TRAGIC.... !!!
And Harrison... " FRANTIC "... !!!

These Heads FOR SURE...
Just... CANNOT Afford... !!!
To Let Their Thoughts RUN...
Because Their Blades CUT...
Like Their Thinking Is DUMB... !!!

FINITE Like Tom Thumb... !!!!!
And FILLED With ***’... !!!!!
... BASTARDISED Sons...
CHIMPS With NO CHUMS... !!!

Whose Thinking Functions...
Up On... HIGHER LEVELS... !!!
Than These Thoughtless Devils... !!!

But TRUTH Is... THESE Heads...
Even HADES... REJECTS... !!!

Because Their DEFECTS....
Would CLEARLY INFECT...
... “ IGNORAMUSES “... !!!!!!

HOLD UP And Just... CHECK...
… What It Is I Just Said... !!!

If They’d INFECT THEM... ?!?
Then They’ve Got REAL PROBLEMS... !!!!!

BELIEVE IT Hell Yeah.... !!!!!!

You See THINKERS Present...
..... BETTER Arguments..... !!!

And Therefore RESPECT...
Is Something THEY GET... !!!!!

But NOT FROM These Plebs...
Whose Thoughts Bring DISTRESS...
To Them In Their Beds... !!!

And Cause Their Heads STRESS... !!!
Like Headz That Are... “ METAL “...

When They DROP Instrumentals...
Where Vessels Go MENTAL... !!!!

UNStaBLe... And UNABLE...
To Sit At Round Tables...
Where Rhymes Are Designed...
By Knights of DARK TYPES... !!!!!

Whose Mind’s ALWAYS PRIMED...
For THINKING To... SHINE... !!!

That BLINDS CRIMINAL Minds... !!!
CRIMINAL... “ Thinkers “...
Whose Blinkers Wear BLINKERS... ?

You See When You THINK...
You... DISMISS Weak Links...
And The Need To See Shrinks... !!!

Because You DEFINE...
A Mind LESS Inclined...
To Let Your Weak Side...
OVERRIDE How Your Life....
Is Shaped And Designed...

MY MIND Like Dark Knights...
Is... ALWAYS Inclined...
To Be On The RISE... !!!!!!

So DEFIES Those Whose Minds...
Hold Thoughts That Make STANDS...
Where IGNORANCE Lands... !!!

BELIEVE... I’m THAT MAN... !!!!!!
With BATMAN Type Vibes... !!!

My Thinking You’ll Find...
Delivers TIGHT Rhymes... !!!
That PROVE I DON’T LIE... !!!!!!

My Thinking DENIES...
DECEIT From It's Tries...
To POLLUTE My Mind...
With Thinking That’s TRITE... !!!!!

And Speaking In Riddles...
That TRY TO.... “ Belittle “....
Thinking That’s MIDDLED...
Like A Viv Richards SIX... !!!!!!

You See I FLIP SCRIPTS...
With Thinking Like THIS... !!!

And CLEARLY FLIP Heads...
When Thoughts I EXPRESS...
Leaves Their Thinking FOR DEAD... !!!

Cos’ My Thinking DIVESTS....
Like Bullets Do VESTS.... !!!!!!!!

With... HEAVY ARTILLERY... !!!
That RUPTURES CAPILLARIES... !!!!!

So You See My Mentality...
Will NOT COURT Insanity... !!!

And CALAMITIES GLADLY...
I BYPASS Like Bradley... !!!...
Cos’... LIMITLESS Thinking...
ENSURES That I’m WINNING... !!!
While Others Are SINNING... !!!

From End To BEGINNING...
So Are... Mentally Sinking............

INTO.... “ The Mire “....
of STRINGER BELLS... WIRED... !!!!!
To Be Soon RETIRED... !!!

Like... “ Spensers’ For Hire “... !!!!!!
When Facing The FIRE...
of Truth Cos’ They’re LIARS... !!!

Whose Thoughts DEFINE FAKE... !!!
Because of Their Ways...
And How They Relate... !!!!!

Through Things That They SAY...

It’s TRUE Nowadays... !!!!!
From OLD HEADS To YOUNG...
It’s CLEAR That Some Humans...
Have SADLY... Become...

A BREED Who Wear BLINKERS...
Who Are MOSTLY... NOT...

..... “ Thinkers “.....
We could probably do with a fresh breed of them right about now ....
Ciaran Treacy Oct 2012
Living by ideology must be comforting.
The freedom of constraint, the security of single-mindedness.

It gives one a sense of position; rooted
Behind battle-lines, clear division.

I always thought Marxists naive,
But not in the way you might think -
I was impressed by the notion that the ruling classes
Knew what they were doing.
Subjugation is at least part of a plan.

Humanism simply baffles me:
One might as well believe in
The primacy and potential of pigshit.

Even nihilism is ideology; its comforting
Sense of community: "We believe in one Nothing."

Ideological blinkers preserve order
By blocking out the surrounding chaos.

Perhaps I should find something to cling to
Before the rising tide sweeps me away.

(Not poetry.
I've tried that;
Too unstable.)
Mike Hauser Jul 2013
You may not know it by looking at me
But I live life on the edge
At any given moment on any given day
I laugh in the face of death

Why, just the other night I didn't brush my teeth
Before I went to bed
That may shock you beyond all belief
But that's just the reckless man that I am

And if that isn't crazy enough
I remember not so long ago
Going outside in the pouring rain
Without my galoshes on

Can life be lived any more daring
I know your dying to ask
When you live life on the edge like I do
That my friend is a simple known fact

So don't say I didn't warn you
That I live a wild and crazy life
It may put your head into a spin
But that's just how it is that I ride

When I'm feeling extra spunky I refuse to use blinkers
And use hand signals instead
That's how it is in the business
Of riding in the fast lane with death

Your probably thinking with all of this madness
How can one man even survive
I guess I need to clarify I'm very careful
With a lot of things in my life

I do wear my cars safety belt
I've read up on all of the facts
Speed kills even at the top end of twenty
Which I do to save on my gas

And anti-bacterial lotion
I don't do one squirt but two
Don't let that change your opinion of me
Being Mr. Daring to you

Cause one thing that I always do
And I know your going to say "NO WAY!"
I sometimes ride the city bus
Without having the correct change..
Desolation City
The streets seem to be empty of life in Desolation city
just the changing of traffic lights that flicker, looks pretty
that's when you know, you are back , back in Desolation city
what can a poor boy do, I ask no mercy for I need not pity

I will look for shelter from those whom I love
all that I call friends and know my kind heart
for soon flowers will grow where pavements crack
and the healing will begin at the end of this March

The people so trapped by fear
some you know close or near
when outside all they see is tragic cruel violence
and witnesses that are terrified and stay in silence

Make love and honour a duty
shine over the streets so gritty
lets make the people understand
all cry for freedom in Desolation City

No more intellectual repression
no more blinkers on our eyes
as we mean to give relief and charity
to our lost home called Desolation City


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
I am Amadioha the earth goddess  of Igbos,Ngai wa mugo wa gatheru
who created the nine daughters of mumbi ,and Gikuyu a man,
I am Wele of Dini ya Musambwa,creator of Elijah Masinde
I am  Katonda the creator of Kintu and Namiremeb hills at Makerere
I am eshu the god  of the  Ijimere and Achebe and Soyinka,
behold today  I stand in Egypt,where the sun comes from
where I similarly  stood billion and billion of years ago,
to create all the stars the moon and the universe
not even known to the son of man until today,
this is where i created my first born of  humanity;
dear Africa the generations of Negroes,
the beacon of my eye, i enjoy a look at you  minus blinkers,
i stand here a fresh to correct my creation mistakes
i formerly made, when creating my dearest son in Africa;
Kenneth Binyavanga wa wainaina, who hails at Nakuru hills,
he is the sweetest song to my heart, classical music of my ears
i contrite much , as i were not to create you a blended blood
from an  Omuganda  girl and  an Omugikuyu  boy,
i  was to create you a pure Muganda, like Okot P' Bitek,
or a pure Kenyan , like Francis Davis Imbuga,
i were to control your academic fortune , that you  don't start,
your maiden education  Lena Moi primary school,
an epiphany of a divorced woman,spelling curse of wifelessness,
on those that pass through the very  school , i was wrong.
had i known i could have not  sent Cleophas to work
in your fathers home , for him  to sleep in the horse shed,
cursed is the ******* memory of what he did in that quarter
as you preened  and eavesdropped outside like a hen
listening to the eagle's contralto,
why did i sent Wambui to be your nurse maid ,only to preach
the gospel according to the power of peasant ****** to you,
she tangled her buttocks before your **** eyes,senting
your young heart to sensuous extremities, Wambui ,a she devil,
Wow! Kalenjins are bad neighbour, they are dark and ugly
slow in the brain and sadistically malicious in the heart,
i  know not why i made them to abode with you within the
great valley of kenya, they throng schools and they cannot learn,
but i have now held them captive, i have made them your footstool
for ever and ever my dear son ,as you hold the scepter of power,
i goofed beyond  remedy by all ethereal to send you to Njoro boys school,
for you to meet Sigalla, that extra-masculine Sigalla , the ******* hunter,
i gave you wrong sisters, they made you put on your mothers dress
and her long hair,then you posed to the female public as an Americanness
your romantic number was fwive fwive fwive fwive , fwive at New-york,
i wonder why i did not give you enough power of languages
so that you generate a numberless fantabulousies and Goalies and so forth,
only to borrow from a young woman;Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
the  yellow sun's slapslap  slapslap slapslap slapslap slapslap   slapslapp!
Mangu Boys School to you was a blessing , had it not my fault,
of giving you a mutton headed faculty full of annentcy,
that went for the persiflagery and aesthetic phantasmagoria,
in the art and theatre prose and poetry; the Bigger Thomas Lawyer,
your only  misplaced  mentor  that gave birth to what i love in you ;
hence i am writting about this place now,this place kenya,
folly of folly is when i goofed to take a natural writter like you,
to commerce class in the land of apartheid, Nadine Gordimer's  front
that sired Brenda Fasie a top Lesbian, the song bird of my times
as you all know we the gods also jealously love,
she only charmed you with her naked ****
swinging like a pendulum on the  musical stage,
after her communique of being a top lesbian,she call it Africa,
o! no,  Africa never came from Lesbians, it comes from simple nature;
mother and father, in natural and collective  heterosexuality,
You only saw and revved in dope culture in the cubbyhole of Victory,
and hoped clubs from Dazzle to the rest , in hunt of  your boyhood,
sadly to be befallen by dark clouds  in victim-hood of optical nutrition,
abiding among the  tall, beautiful, smoking bunch of Lesbians.
My son, from  today and henceforth,  i the Africanus,
the god of African fertility,poetry and art,
humbly chose to recreate you the king of kings and queens,
of African story telling  at global status, to tell all African songs,
beyond sham fallacy that gay and Lesbian literature
are the begotten  apex of modern and Global literature
these are only white lies featuring a death bound imperialism.
aar505n Aug 2014
Don't rely on tunnel vision,
the ephemeral illusion.
Take of the blinkers
and see with peripheral vision.

There is more to the definitive space we occupy,
the small world we simply exist in.
I insist we be hurled from this world,
But we resist.

Unprepared to be thrown
into the cyclone.
Scared of the unknown.
Yet,
we yearn for it
for the obscure and foreign.
Yearning for more than this.
Questioning why be secure with what we know?

We think we know everything now,
Everything within the space
of this limited place.
Yet,
we reckon there has to be more than this,
waiting beyond the door.
Wanting to be explored
and not ignored.

You'll never know unless you try
to pry into the unknown.
You could find your identify
by looking at life in it's entirety.

If you focus straight, you might miss something.
Our planet is round, not flat.
So take the blinkers off
and blink in everything at once.
“I thought we knew everything there was to know, It feels like we may be less of what we were in a place we don’t wholly know.”

comments and criticism welcomed
Korey Miller Jan 2015
i.
caren forgot about her morning.  caren forgot it was wednesday.  caren had an event and she was not there.

caren is a shadow.  caren is an absence of space.  caren is a gap that people shy away from, women in black dresses sidestepping past her memory.

caren is a woman with a streetcar.  caren is a woman with an office job.  caren is a woman with a social network.  caren goes to functions.  caren is no longer a function, but a product of her own actions.

caren forgot herself.

ii.
shattered windshields. broken glass like triangle teeth. more monsters lurk in mirrors than in the recesses of the closet.  behemoths wait by water coolers, demons sit in sweaty three-by-fours.  the devil wears a motorcycle helmet and caren hasn't learned from her mistakes.

iii.
run a red light.  it's december and she's egging on the new year.  frosted features and blinkers hide hot flashes.  she's impatient for her age, a businesswoman at her best.  

a shift in gear. a change in mood.  road rage, road rash.  a few words from a dark knight on a whinnying bike.

iv.
lane changes and unintentional nudges. motorcycle launches the devil like a dove to heaven. caren stays earthbound, blood spilled to nourish the ground.  fertilizer runs through her veins, and vampire trees in city parks drink it up. bystanders drink it up.

v.
caren is a casualty.  caren is the victim of her own habits.

caren is a corpse in a coffin. caren is an elephant in the viewing room.  

caren is to blame in eyes and minds. caren is condemned in whispers, but caren is lamented out loud, so caren is proud.

caren got **** done.
i wrote this one when i was fifteen. it jumped out of my pen during a manic phase.
Revolute Jay Aug 2012
We are free to use our blinkers
Or maybe not, to switch lanes
We're free to lose, of course to gain
Most give less than they share
But we all have freedom to wish, and that of despair

I need some ******* space here, people
I don't care about the extremists in that Texan steeple
I need to think, I need to know
Because apparently we're all given a chance to succeed
Chances to grow
But that's some ****, I'll tell you, and the nation
Where there are chains, no one finds your liberation
You must fight for yourself
Unlike those ignorant to an outside situation

I live life as well as I can conceive
I come, and I'll go as I please
I have struggled, ****, and some things done with ease
But it's hard to accept things
Stop from beginning to plead

With life, dreaming of a non-failure tattoo on my chest
Freedom of denial and maybe of access
But dreams can be illusions, rather than reality
But it's on the individual to make dreams an actuality

I've seen so many live, and I've seen too many die
But I've found the freedom to laugh loud
And I've let myself cry
But sometimes it's easy to hear,
And harder to listen
For me especially
To act after having made decision

If I hold a gun in the war of revolution
There will be freedom in war, and freedom in peace
I guess we all have things to learn
Like when to start
When to cease
I wish we could all be free some disease
Chronically in perfect health
But that's a fantasy, unlike poverty
And manipulated, mishandled wealth.
An honest politician is an idea I can't conceive
If I'm ever that powerful
Well, it'll have to start with me, I believe
Americans will find freedom from greed
And maybe jealousy, we can keep some pride
But me, just me, I don't have anything to hide.
I'll never be free from space, but maybe from time
But there's things that will happen around me:
Hunger, and crime

If I can find freedom from my body and mind
Then I'll have found what I've been trying to find
To see true colors, looking ahead, forget what's behind
Maybe there's rebirth, being of the spiritual kind

Universal freedom might be nothing left to lose,
But fighting for my freedom is the path I look to choose
The rich old white guys keep driving their Benz's
While I look at my world, my freedom
Through my $20 lenses

v.xi.xi
Copyright © Jimena Zavaleta 2012
~
October 2024
HP Poet: Ben Noah Suresh
Age: 65
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Ben. Please tell us about your background?

Ben Noah Suresh: "I was christened Benjamin Noah Suresh by my parents but modified my name to Suri Ben Noah when I first started writing poetry. I later twisted it around and my pen name is Ben Noah Suri while I am Suresh to all my friends. My HP handle was Suri Ben Noah but then evolved to Ben Noah Suri. I now prefer to be called Ben Noah Suresh.

I am 65 years young. Still feel like I’m a teenager and wonder where the hell all these years have flown. I was born and grew up in the city of Madras which is now called Chennai and is the capital of the State of Tamuzh Nadu in South India.

I am just a simple wordsmith and my experiences have made me what I am today. I am an only child of working parents who are no more and my loneliness led to an overactive imagination. I am more of an introvert in real life and never had any close friends. School was a nightmare for I hated education. I still believe education is a waste of time though it ensures employability. I dropped out of school and college several times before I was finally persuaded to complete my Education by my Godfather. I possess a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science and a Masters in Public Administration.

I got into the habit of smoking when I was eleven years old and graduated to soft and hard drugs by the time I was sixteen. I used to get high on anything I could lay my hands on. I was finally able to wean myself away from drugs through Divine intervention when I turned 29. I later stuck to tobacco and alcohol until my 55th year when I quit that as well. I still smoke an occasional joint during school or college reunions but otherwise stay clean and sober all the while.

I have done many things during my professional career spanning nearly 40 years. I started out as a bottle washer at a soda factory at the age of 16 before the process was automated. I became a Tutor for school and college drop outs at the age of 19. After graduation I served as a Development worker - involved with various Community Development projects including but not limited to Non Formal Training in various Trades for school and college drop outs, Women's Empowerment, Micro Finance, Low Cost Housing as well as Media & Communication Development. I later became a PR & Event Manager; a General Manager of Alumni Relations; a Content Creator; a Newsletter Editor & Publisher as well as many other things with the common thread of communication driving all these activities. I have travelled to several Asian countries and a couple of European cities as well. Currently, I selectively undertake Ghost Writing projects.

I am happily married for 34 years to my wife Lydia who recently retired as a School Teacher and we have 3 kids; two Daughters and the youngest being a Son. The eldest daughter Tang is married and runs her own media agency and hopes to make movies in the future. The second daughter Dove freelances as a content writer for several agencies. She has inherited an interest and flair for writing poetry but is rather shy and does not post them anywhere. My son Steve who is the youngest is an IT professional. He also writes stories as a hobby.

I found the hustle and bustle of urban life rather oppressing with the heat and the rude crowds making life tiresome. Therefore after retirement I moved to a small hill town named Kumily on the Kerala – Tamuzh Nadu border and now spend a peaceful life there. I plan to travel around across the world now that I have the time to do so."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Ben Noah Suresh: "I have been writing since the age of twelve when I wrote my first poem for my School Magazine. I write both prose and poetry. I used to write crazy limericks during my college days to attract the girls and post them on the Graffiti Board of the College cafeteria. I have written a couple of collections of short stories though I don’t know if they are still available on Amazon. I stayed away from writing from the age of 24 until my 45th year due to my professional commitments when I was then motivated by a friend to write again. I am currently writing a sort of a biographic novel and hope to finish it sometime in 2025.

I have been on and off Hello Poetry from 2009."



Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Ben Noah Suresh: "I am inspired to write by almost anything and everything. Simple things and events make me ponder and I immediately scribble my thoughts down in verse. The process of writing still remains a mystery to me. It’s like a tap is turned on and the words just flow. It’s like an on off switch and I just write without even understanding what I am writing. Most of my poems happen within a span of 5 to 10 minutes. I just record the flow of the words spilling out and don’t even bother to edit them.

I’m a big Heavy Metal Fan though I love all kinds of music and most of my poems have been birthed while listening to some form of music or the other."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Ben Noah Suresh: "For me Poetry is the breath of life. Without Poetry, I would suffocate and die. Poetry has aided me in battling loneliness, depression, drug addiction and almost all trials of life. I keep constantly writing though I don’t post all of them on Hello Poetry.

Poetry is all about creation. Each poem is the author’s baby. I love all my babies (I have over 5000 of them) and also love reading all the babies produced by my fellow Poets. I believe that by reading a poem I am giving strength and longevity to the poet’s baby."



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Ben Noah Suresh: "To be frank, I have no favourites. I believe it is not right to discriminate. Each poet has a distinct style and no two styles are the same nor are they any better than the other. Each poem is a baby that must be nurtured and read. Even the poems that appear bad may have their own reasons for being created and it is our blinkered perception which makes them appear to be bad. So I try to shed my blinkers and try to decipher what went on in the mind of the poet when writing such verse.

I started reading poems in nursery school. Started with rhymes and limericks. In fact, one of my favourites still remains,

“Hey ******, ******
The cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such fun
And the dish went away with the spoon!” Lol…

The fascination for the imagery which this evoked as a child still remains. Later in School Textbooks I read Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelly, Tennyson and the like. The first poem I taught as a Tutor was “Daffodils” by William Wordsworth and this has a special place in my heart. A friend handed me a chapbook of Kerouac’s work when I was in the eighth grade and I was fascinated by his style which I could never emulate. This led me to read more of the beat poets. I have also taught Chaucer and Milton to college students. Among Indian poets, I used to read Nissim Ezekiel whom I admired as a young boy.

HP was the gateway to read so many contemporary poets. It has opened up an entire new world for me to dive into. I spend most of my time when I am not writing my own stuff by reading the work of as many poets as I can lay my hands on in the site."



Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Ben Noah Suresh: "I am basically interested in exploring human relationships & their connection with the Divine. I believe in God but do not believe in religion. However, I am a student of all religious scriptures and texts for I find that the common thread running through them all is love and faith.

I am also into what is called the alternative sciences or ridiculed as pseudo sciences. My interests also include learning Graphology (signature analysis and character reading from the study of handwriting), Physiognomy (character reading from the study of ****** structures, body shapes and body language), Palmistry (character reading from the study of the lines on the palms), meditation as well as philosophy and understanding Truth. I am also a student of Alternative Medicine and study use of herbs and plants for healing.

I believe Graphology & Physiognomy can be put to good use by HR personnel to find the right fit for the job and also ascertain character traits like honesty and maintaining confidentiality necessary for sensitive jobs.

I am also very concerned about corruption in all spheres of life as well as the gradual pollution & resultant destruction of the world and nature. This concern is at times reflected in my work."



Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity to get to know the man behind the poet, Ben! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”

Ben Noah Suresh: "Thank you for the opportunity Carlo..."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Ben a little bit better. I most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #21 in November!

~
Ben Noah Suresh: As mentioned earlier, I have no favourite poems of mine. All of my poems are my children and I hate it when parents play favourites amongst their children. I only share 50 percent of my work with the outside world and write mainly for my own pleasure.

https://www.facebook.com/BenNoahSuri/
Big Virge Feb 2016
Ya know .....

I'm down with … Problem Solvers … !!!
Not those … who use … Revolvers … !!!!!

By this I mean …. " Evolvers " … !!!!!

"Logical" … Thinkers … !!!
who … Don't Wear … BLINKERS … !!!

"Evolved" … like … " Incas " … !!!  
who … "Peruse" … The View …
"From" …. "Machupicchu" … hues …
to blues now seen ….
in …. " New Age " …. crews …. !!!!!

NOT SO … Evolved … !!!!!

NOPE …. would seem …. NOT …. !!!!!!!

"Problems" …. up top ….
"Evolution" …. dropped ….
for …. " Dropping Bombs " ….  !!!

"Inhumane" …. wrongs ….
as wrongs ……. move on …….
and become … " More Strong " … !!!!!

I Evolve … to belong …
where wrongs … " ABSCOND " … !!!!!
because what …. " Evolves " ….
are thoughts that … " Revolve " …
On ….. " Cerebral Planes " ….

Do you get what i'm … saying … ?!?

Higher levels of … " Being "
where there is … " No Ceiling "

A place where … " Believing "
that ….. " HIGHER ACHIEVING "
is something …. " ALL PEOPLE "
are seeing ….. Each Evening ….. !!!!!

and … Each Day … " Receiving "
"Within" … " ALL THEIR " … Teachings … !!!!!

"Darwinism" ….. Removed ….. !!!
and ….. " Eugenics " ….. Too ….. !!!!!

Instead …. STRONGER Movements …. !!!!!
are things I be …. " Choosing " ….
to be a ….. " Good Student " …..  !!!
who … " Evolves " …
with … MORE … " Prudence "
than … " Ignorant " … Tutors … !!!!!!

See … Evolution of … " words "
I put into …… " VERSE "
"Evolve' … where things … " Work "
Even if … they may … " HURT " … !!!!!

because of their … " Clarity "
Revolving round … " REALITY "

Reality …… where …… " VANITY "
Denies … so many ….. " CHARITY "

The type … where people
.…… RISE ABOVE …….  
These acts of … "Evil" …
and show …. " LOVE " …. !!!!!

Instead of …. All This ….

" Self-absorbed " …. stuff …. !!!

It's clear some have … " evolved "
just far … enough …
for them to …. " Absolve "
their acts of …. " LUST " …. !!!!!

LUST … for … Each Other …
ahead of their … Mothers … !!?!!

LUST … for … " Destruction " … !!!!!
of our …. Fellow Brothers ….
when we … NEED … " Constructions "
that … BUILD …and DON"T … "smother"

A way to …. " AGREE " ….
and … EVOLVE to be …

……. " FREE " ……. !!!!!

and find ……. " UNITY "
that bypasses … hatred …
in … Vapid Type Racists … !!!
with … " **** Type Beliefs " … !!!!

They NOW … have … " Evolved "
"Beyond" … their … White Sheets

It seems that …. Their Offspring
Now … " RUN " … companies … ?!?

where  colours are … " Mixed "
"Dissolving" … to … "FIT" …
in with …. " These Racists " …. !!!!!

NO ….
"Evolving" …. THERE …. !!!

because most … are … " Scared " … !!!!!
to evolve …. to that …. place ….
where they're … NOT AFRAID … !!!!!

to fear …. " Retributions "
for YES …. " Contributing "
to such …. " Revolutions "
that are …. " Evolutions "
to finding …. " SOLUTIONS "
that … INSPIRE … " Movements "

for …. " EQUALITY CALLS "
that … Benefit …… ALL …… !!!!!!

The Rich … and … The Poor
cos' … that gap … FOR SURE …

" Evolves " … to … Ensure …  
That …. We Can't …. " IGNORE "
These things ….. " ANYMORE " ….. !!!!!!

"Dissolving" …. The Void ….
where we have … " Unemployed "
Might Help … some … " Evolve "
from …. trying to …. " ROB " …. !!!

But that …. " Evolution " ….
is … Needed … " In Boardrooms "  

Don't get it … " Confused " … ???
to …. " EVOLVE " ….

THEY NEED …. TOO …. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Greed Driven" …. Villains …. !!!!!
who clearly … Aren't … " Pilgrims "
who live by a …. " Faith " ….
that … FEEDS … " Empty Plates "

They'd say that … "They Do !"
but … is that … " The Truth "

I don't have an answer ….  ?!?
That Question's … for … YOU … !?!

Those now …. " EVOLVED "
to think past … "Themselves"

who … do not … INVOLVE … !!!
"Pursuit" … of … Mass Wealth …
as part of the …. " Well " ….
…….. where their ………  
" BETTERMENT "  … Dwells … !!!!!

Knowledge of …. " Self "
that … " Uplifts " … The Mental

A form of …. " Self Help "
that … TRULY … is … CENTRAL
to …. " Human Infusion " ….
of what should be … loosened … !!!

Our hold of …. " Confusion "
that leads to …. " Contusions "
Persecutions …. " Exclusions "
and movements so … " GRUESOME "
that they seem …. " INHUMAN " …. !!!!!!!

The words i'm … NOW … Choosing
DO NOT FEED …. illusions …. !!! ….

" Upliftments' "…. BRUISING …. !!!
has left … MANY … Losing …

A hope for …. " Inclusion "
and some …. " Distribution "
of more than … Sweet Talk ...
from tongues shaped like … FORKS … !!!!!
that … KEEP … Fuelling Wars … !!!!!!

So ….
Here's My …. " Conclusion "

It's time for … " SOLUTIONS "
that … STOP … " Destitution "
and REMOVE … what's polluting …
Humanities' …. movements ….
towards some …. " Improvements "

where LESS … are … "colluding"
to seeing … MORE SHOOTINGS … ?!?!?

INSTEAD ….. " Resolutions "
that … Provide … " Solutions "
that … REJECT … Revolvers …
…… " Suicide Bombers " …… !!!!!!!!

and … Moods that are … " Sombre "

May see … " Problem Solvers "

be the ones who we choose …..

to … INSPIRE …

….. " Evolvers " …..
The poem says it all .....
Karen Hamilton Nov 2020
I am an addict
I am a mother
I am a daughter
A sister, a friend.

I am an addict
and I live under
The spell addiction sends
right through my bones,
my mind, my heart, my soul

I am an addict
and I have never felt so small
I am an addict
I told myself
As I held my head in shame

I am an addict
and I cannot live with all this pain
I am an addict
I deserve nothing but the worst
I am an addict and
I live under this curse.

Success
I cannot have it (I told myself)
The right to a good life
I am an addict
I’ve caused too much pain and strife.

Content
I cannot have it (I told myself)
I don’t deserve to smile
I am an addict and
I am at the bottom of the pile

I am a survivor
I am a warrior
I am a Queen
But
I had a habit
That dampened all of my dreams

I am a fighter, a writer
I am clever, kind, caring and strong
I am an addict
but under labels I do not belong

I am a women, a human
Who sadly had to break
To be transformed into
The champion she is evolving
into today

I am an addict and
although yes, I do lust
for drink and drugs
I now have a Higher Power
I can trust, who showers
me with strength, guidance and love

I trudged for miles but
with hard work,
The shackles soon fell off
and although yes,
I fell face first
deep into the mud
I wiped my eyes,
squeaky clean and
I truly felt Gods love.

I began to breathe, to believe
in myself, in all my worth
and dare I say it……
I was thankful to still have
two feet firmly on this earth.

I remembered how it feels to live,
to dream, to be free
To feel alive –
and just how beautiful
This universe really is
Through my new fresh eyes.

I am an addict
And I do not wish to forget
For that could do me harm

I will always remember
my loved ones, my friends,
my family
Who lost their battles
In this crazy search for calm
and I hold them here
Firmly within my heart.

They provide me with the fuel
When my internal fire
barely starts
But the ones who keep me
Strong, who really ignite
my light
Are the ones sat amongst us,
The ones who daily fight
to stay sober and clean

We’re not perfect but
We try, the survivors,
the warriors, the ones
fighting to the end
carrying a light for their
lost loved ones and friends

You’re the champions –
In my eyes you are all stars.

And you deserve every bit
of goodness on this earth

Addiction puts blinkers on your
eyes, but recovery removes the curse.

Please understand, it isn’t
easy, it is a daily fight
but with time, care and
a lot of love, I am grateful
to have been given another
chance to try at life.

I am an addict
But I am also a survivor
And freedom tastes so
very, very nice.
. © Karen L Hamilton, Sep 2020

A personal poem, written for the message rather than the format. I was asked to write and read a poem at Norwich Cathedral Sep 2020 for those who are struggling addiction and the families/ friends of those who have lost their lives through addiction/ alcoholism
TB Feb 2013
I left Florida for the weather.

Where summer pulses stagnant heat,
to the rhythm of waves crashing.
Today feels like yesterday,
feels like last year,
reminds me of that time five years ago
when thunder seduced my soul.

Ssshhh.
That's death rising from swollen swamps,
listening for the sound of prolonged blinkers.
Jurassic eyes ogle leather flesh,
cracked,
salty,
alien.

I moved north for a fight.

I jumped in the ring with scholars,
pennies clamoring in sidewalk cups,
applause.

A crooked nose now leads the way,
shadows take root beneath youthful,
sun-kissed pools of blue.
I'm still spinning.

I left Atlanta for the people.
Well, just one really.
The girl whose soul once kissed thunder in the rain,
and can't quit chasing storms
until they touch again.
REAL MUSIC

Real dope rappers
Who write good flows
Not those whackers
Whose IQ ‘s low

Real emcees
Not them fake gees
Whose violence fancy life they pretend to live
In their video scene
Make them obscene

Rap shouldn’t be getting kids trapped
In a ****** life
Imagining wrongly outside the map
Now most of these kids had swapped
Their real life with that rap-gee crap
Things need to be done asap
Before things get out of bound
Before these kids gets out of hand

Rapping should be about feeling
Happening and politicking
And how we take beating
From murderous policing
*
Rap should be a stencil
Unfading, unlike pencil
It should be a language, fundamental
That boots the mental
Coz rap music is special

Rap should be words arranged in rhythmic verse
To fit the beat and bass
Where the preceding rhymes
Fit the proceeding lines

Rap could be a war song
Against gunmen and war-thugs
To stop their inhumane wrongs
Like killing youngs’ and dropping bombs

Rap could be a love song
Song that keeps our vibe on
And become more strong

Rap could be an ornament
To our chameleon-like president
And those in the parliament
And other less-sensible personnel
In the government

Rap should be an inspiration
That helps you find solution
To war and destitution
And impact its contribution
as medication
To a mind filled with gruesome

Rap should be a resolution
To peace and revolution
Not the type that cause body and soul pollution

Rap should be about feeling
Not *** and drug preaching
Not fake-life flaunting
That leave the young heart bleeding

Rappers should be evolver
Logical thinker
Intellect ******
Who don’t just wear blinkers
They’re problem solvers

Realest cyphers
I’m talking real rap gods
Whose song do not preach hate
Whose line will all relate

How about those with silly way
Who’s supposed to be in jail
Coz their rhythmic way
And their wordplay
Preaches stray
And could derange the brain
Of the kids to decay

Let’s talk euphorism
Rappers whose rhythmism
Somewhat lacks euphemism
Whose art of lyricism
And rhyme algorithm
Lacks aphorism

I’m talking wu-tang pal
Not YMCMB clan
Whose art lack style
I’m talking 2pac
Whose rap never past

What about the music tycoon
Who make the world roam
Whose song gives the heart relief
And gives a warming beat
To a wandering lost soul

Real poetic wordsmith
Whose every word spit
Has a taste of God in it
And could make the world spin

But when rappers start displaying
An art that’s straying
And still gets to be known
That’s got to show
That they’ve bargain their soul
For fame, a chance to glow
Coz they’re rhythmic style is low
So, for them to blow
They’ve got to sold
Their body, heart and soul in whole

But rappers these day
Are just insane
Their lust for fame
Outlived their love for the game
thanks to Dammy Zuliha and Abdul Muhsin for the inspiration
gracia
type of Christmas lights
electronic turn signals            
active light, blinkers
Rob-bigfoot Jun 2021
Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise,
Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair,
Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise,
Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre!

Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life,
Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply,
Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife!
This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay.

Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder,
Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction,
Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger?
Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination!

A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting!
Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight,
Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming!
This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite.

Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed,
This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream,
No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists,
Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam!

My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer,
My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn,
My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter,
But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring!

© Robert Porteus
A bit more upbeat than most of my recent efforts.  Been a real struggle to get this written.  The darker stuff sadly is so much easier!
Alan McClure Dec 2011
I'll trawl the squalor, if you like,
stick blinkers on to hide the fact
that my life has so far been a charmed one.

I can conjure a face,
small, forgotten
black against a duststorm sky -
There's your poverty for you,
And yes, I was there

And sure, I smelt the days old sweat
and can remember hunger as a curiosity
The boy's name is known to me
but I won't share it

Because he was real
but I missed his reality
and I have no right to it.
***** hands notwithstanding
I was just a tourist,
a passing mote of dust
in his drought-stricken life.

I was there for me
collecting picturesque snapshots
which would inform my return
to an undeserved comfort
(but only slightly).

To say he was important,
totemic, symbolic,
is false.
I remember him, that's all -

My boys,
my clean, happy,
here-now boys
eclipse that shadow in every respect.
An honourable assertion
only in that it is true;
and a brief regret that I made no contact
flickers out before
a blaze of contentment,
a bedrock of good fortune
with little to offer
the vicarious seeker
of hard-won wisdom.
Stephan Oct 2016
.

Drizzle coated the billboard
sitting on that desolate stretch of highway
waiting for someone to read
or at least hide behind, parked car, back seat
steamed windows, sighs just above a holler,
a collar unbuttoned,
casual abundance with the radio on
seeking a Clapton tune
as nimble fingers
show the difference between a slow hand
and a destined position,
where rain doesn’t matter
because it I just as wet inside
though hotter than an August day,
perspiring in the friction
as love hits the four way flashers
blinkers accelerate, left, right, faster,
names are called, tears are cried
and the road home now beckons . . .
SiouxF Oct 2020
Disempowering
Negative
Malicious
Beliefs from him
Imprinted onto me
Manipulating and controlling me
Blinkering me from the truth
Leading me down rabbit holes of lies, confusion and brain fog
For years and years
Leading to defensiveness,
Aggression
Unhappiness
Sadness
Denial of my true self
And my qualities and passions,
Keeping me playing small
Insignificant
Unworthy
Undeserving,
All because he was afraid
Of my greatness
And my strength.
*******!
Blinkers off!
They weren’t my beliefs!
None of it was true!
They were lies!
Letting go
Of this distorted perception of self
To enter into a deeper understanding of who I am
What I stand for
And to embrace and
Love and
Accept
All of me
As I am
Nog net een trekkie
dan nip ek hom nou.
Ek belowe voor skemer
sal ek ook ophou.
Ophou wat?
Ophou bid?
Ophou smeek?
Ophou om die maan te krater
-te breek?

Nee man net nog ene
voor sy kom.
Die maan en haar blinkers
en haar pikgiet swart blom.
Die rokie streel my kolle
en strepe ,- my seer.
Dan kan ek lekker slaap.

Nog een tretjie voor
die nag my kom haal.
Nog net een tretjie
voor ek moet besin
oor die moeilike tye
en vir my sondes betaal.

Die nag wat ons almal op
die highway van die lewe kaap.
Nog 'n ou entjie
voor ek ook gaan slaap.
CV Apr 2015
I have never felt more beautiful
with mascara running down my face
when you drunkenly told me you wanted
to marry me with your head in the toilet.

In the morning,
you said "I shouldn't
have said those things...

but they are very true."

When you put your hand over my heart,
I swear that's when everything changed.

When you drive,
and you see cars
in front of you
with their blinkers on
and you wait
to see when the
blinkers will all
blink together -

that's how it felt
when I was waiting
for both of our heartbeats
to be in sync with each other.
neth jones Apr 2023
wake up pup
eager those linkers
blink your blinkers
unsink from sleep
and stretch
for a four year old human child
So, here's something, that I really thinks lame,
Put your blinker on if you're gonna turn or switch lanes.
And don't wait til the last second, that's just plain dumb.
Blinkers are pretty useful, and not just for fun.
Here's another, a crazy idea I propose.
If you're eating something, then chew it with your mouth closed.
Cuz I can see the food you're chewing, and that's just too gross.
That cow - grazing sound, makes me clench my toes.
Here's another thing, I see every **** day.
People littering when the can's a few feet away.
Is it too much work? Are you really that lazy?
The nerve of some people... I tell you, it's amazing.
There was a pause,
as ticking blinkers permeated the air
and our conversation dissipated.
We’d been running on fumes for miles, for days.

Rounding that starling corner,
the straight road flowed onward,
but twists were dead ahead,
waiting to shift our path slowly.

We knew there was no fuel
where we dared to travel.
The only energy, between us
and how we reconfigure the sky.

Yet sometime into our silence
that violent earthly spinning
gave way to tender caressing waves.
Your key in my hand, the rust of its metal:
fingertips on my chest, my foot on the pedal.

With great grace we gave chase
to that outstretched decadence,
stuck in our headlights.
A mystifying limousine
acting as an unintended catalyst
for living out that reckless dream.
So the drive continues on
and we laughed ourselves one dare closer
towards the love we’ve always shared.

Our dance never caught that golden
standard that carried the wealthy,
but the journey itself proved
to be our own prosperous excursion.

Mile after mile, with the utmost abandon,
and streetlights paced to heartbeats
our chariot slowed, our eyes glowed.
Smile, darling.
prevent horse spooking
they're electric turn signals
useful blinkers
Mike Hauser Jun 2013
There's a bus with four flats in the front yard
Greyhound written on it's side
Wondering how in the world it got there
And where in the world it was I was last night

It has all of it's blinkers a flashing
With the radio blaring loud
I'm getting a tad bit worried here
As it's slowing drawing a crowd

How lucky is it that it missed
My above ground swimming pool out front
Which I know would do better in the back yard
But it was to much trouble to move all the junk

As soon as the cobwebs clear my head
And my eyes cease their interpretive dance
I do what any red blooded American citizen would
And proceed to remove all evidence

I wish it is that I could remember
What it was that had gone on
From the looks inside the greyhound
It really must have been quite fun

The night had to involve Major Rock Stars
The way inside the bus was wreaked
If I didn't know any better I'd think
That Keith Moon had come back from the dead

The back window was smashed wide open
On the ground lay a big screen T.V.
Hard to believe but it was still running
With breaking news on channel 3

There I was in all of my glory
Whooping and hollering on top of the bus
Riding through downtown with lasso in hand
Like I was a cowboy rustling up some grub

I knew it wouldn't be long now
Before the Authorities came looking for me
Even though my head was still full of mud
I had to think lighting fast on my feet

So I jumped into the drivers position
And into first gear I slammed
Drove the bus straight into the junk of the backyard
And never saw that Greyhound again
Big Virge Aug 2020
In These Days And Times...
It’s Getting HARD To Find...

People On Whom...
You Can TRULY RELY... !!!!!

Because of The Mood...
That’s Now Defining Life... !!!

COMPULSORY Orders...
To... PROTECT Borders... !!!

CONTROLS For Souls.....
Now LOSING HOPE... !!!

Due To LOSING Their Jobs...
And... RISING Costs... !!!!!

So What Have We Got... ???
A... CORONA ROT... !!!

That’s TRULY SHOCKED...
And CLEARLY ROCKED...

The Lives of... MANY...
That Are Now UNSTEADY... !!!

In THESE Days And Times...
It’s Now... HARD To Find...

... TRUE Peace of Mind...

Which Is Why I Write Rhymes...
To... STOP My Brain...
From... Going INSANE...
In These CRAZY DAYS... !!!!!

Because Its All A Haze...
And Now The Type of Maze...

That May Well Leave Some...
Finding Themselves STUCK...
With NO Place To RUN... !!!

It’s... FAR FROM FUN...
Watching Governments...
Now DESTROY Freedoms... !!!

Because It Now Seems...
That They Want REGIMES...
That ALLOW Their Teams...
To DICTATE What’s Seen...
And... WHO Can Speak... !!!

But In Truth Isn’t That...
How Its... ALWAYS BEEN... !!!

Within Their So Called... “ Societies “...
So Now Theories... About CONSPIRACIES...
Are Those That Feed What MANY BELIEVE...

But The Sheople’ OUTNUMBER...
Those Who Refuse To Play The Roles...
of... DUMB And DUMBER... !!!

When It Comes To The Vibes...
of These Days And Times...
Where Racism IGNITES...
Like... DYNAMITE... !!!

And Is Causing FIGHTS...
All Because of Black Lives...
That Apparently MATTER...
Once They Have... DIED... ?!?

So Now There Are Countries...
That Are... FAR And WIDE... !!!!!

Where The Race Discussion...
Is... Reaching Minds...
Who Preferred To Stay Blind...
To How Ignorance Functions...
And STILL Affects Lives...

WAY BEYOND Police Lines... !!!!!

It’s... ALWAYS BEEN...
What Black People Have Seen...

But Suddenly... APPARENTLY...
It Requires MORE TALK...
Than... EVER BEFORE... ?!?

But In ALL HONESTY...
It’s Beginning To BORE... !!!

ALL This TALK of CHANGE...
From... FAMOUS Names...

Who’ve Played The Game...
of... Waiting For A Train...
Or... BANDWAGONS...
For Them To JUMP ON... !!!

When They’ve Been...
... " Playing Along "...
To Get To... The TOP...

of These Industries...
Where Racism BREATHES...
Quite... EASILY...................... !!!

As LONG As THEY...
Were RECEIVING MONEY... !!!

There’s MUCH HYPOCRISY...
In Times Like These... !!!

So People Should Read...
... BETWEEN The Lines... !!!

BEFORE They Find Themselves ALIGNED...
With The Types of... Figures...
Who Are Really... SHAPE SHIFTERS... !!!!!

Or In Other Words... GRIFTERS...
Who Are Known To Be TRICKSTERS... !!!

And... Societal WINNERS...
Who Are The WORST Kind of SINNERS... !!!

Sitting At... DINNERS...
With The Type of Thinkers...
Who Prefer To Wear BLINKERS...

Than To SEE THE TRUTH...
About... RACIST Moves...

And The Type of ISSUES...
That Now... Confuse... ?!?

That Are Fuelling DARK MOODS... !!!
It’s A... " WHOLE NEW WORLD "...
That Now... UNFURLS... !?!

And Has REARRANGED...
How The Game of Life...
Will Now Be... Played... !!!

Which Is Why I Find...
Myself Inclined...
To Sit And Write Rhymes...

About What Life’s Now Like...

In....

“These Days And Times”....
There's so much to say about them now, hence the poem....
Zywa Mar 2022
I don't want to be an object
of course, but human, a subject
not completely free perhaps

but also not in the hell
of other people's judgment
because I don't ignore

that I am an individual we
an individual love
that falls short

sometimes individual cruel
self-interest, short-sighted
by built-in blinkers

against my nervous fear
of the purgatory of the failures
of other people and myself

(Whoever wants more freedom
and does leave the herd, will know
to be in hell right then)
"L'enfer, c'est les Autres" ("Hell is Other people"), from the one-act play "Huis clos" ("Closed doors", 1943, Jean-Paul Sartre)

Collection "The drama"
Showy Christmas lights    
are used for turn signaling
horse blinders, blinkers

— The End —