"canaan" poems
Christian, seek not yet repose,
Cast thy dreams of ease away;
Thou art in the midst of foes:
Watch and pray.
Canaan has for thee been won,
Christ triumphant led the way;
In His might possess thine own!
Watch and pray.
In the heavenlies see that land,
Satan would thine entrance stay;
Thou against his wiles must stand:
Watch and pray.
8.4k
At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,
And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,
Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,
And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,
See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,
The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?
Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,
As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,
A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.
For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
597
It always felt to me—a wrong
To that Old Moses—done—
To let him see—the Canaan—
Without the entering—
And tho’ in soberer moments—
No Moses there can be
I’m satisfied—the Romance
In point of injury—
Surpasses sharper stated—
Of Stephen—or of Paul—
For these—were only put to death—
While God’s adroiter will
On Moses—seemed to fasten
With tantalizing Play
As Boy—should deal with lesser Boy—
To prove ability.
The fault—was doubtless Israel’s—
Myself—had banned the Tribes—
And ushered Grand Old Moses
In Pentateuchal Robes
Upon the Broad Possession
’Twas little—But titled Him—to see—
Old Man on Nebo! Late as this—
My justice bleeds—for Thee!
2.9k
Are you that Stone-Edged as to penetrate
Which even Donkey's Ears refuse to sound?
And on that Bed, that White Sheet's Cry debate
Useless Tears as your Ring boasts your Account
Which of these Ways, Sir, must you Stark-Rebel
And addle yourself carelessly to Sin?
Your Canaan - burnt - to Red District's Level
Selling yourself in Circles for a Fin
Unthinkable, your Role upturned thereof
Though many Blinded Eyes considered Cool
All to solicit Pink Ducklings whereof
Plucking Wily Snails their Poison to Fool.
No-One has asked you for this Flipped Request
Save to drink this Tonic and do your Best.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
The Israelites (/ˈɪzriəlaɪts/; Hebrew: בני ישראל Bnei Yisra'el)
were a confederation of Iron Age
Semitic-speaking tribes of the ancient Near East
inhabiting parts of Canaan during the tribal & monarchic periods;
Modern archaeology has largely discarded
the historicity of the Jewish religious narrative;
re-framing it as constituting an inspired national myth:
The Israelites & their culture according to modern
archaeological accounts,
did not overtake the region by force,
instead branching out from the indigenous [Canaanite peoples
long inhabiting the Southern Levant, Syria,
ancient Israel, and the Trans-Jordan region]
through the development of a distinct _monolatristic_—
[_Monolatry_ (Greek: μόνος (monos) = single,
and λατρεία (latreia) = worship) is the belief
in the existence of many gods but with the
consistent worship of the one deity; the term
"monolatry" was perhaps first used
by Julius Wellhausen;
Modern scholars of Israel's religion have
become much more circumspect in how
they use the Old Testament; not least
because many have concluded the Bible
is not a reliable witness to the true religion
of ancient Israel and Judah; representing
the beliefs of only a small segment of the
ancient community _centered in Jerusalem_
& devoted to the exclusive worship
of the god "Yahweh": Monolatry is
distinct from monotheism,
which asserts the existence of only one god;
and henotheism, a religious system in which
the believer worships one god w/out denying
that others may worship different gods with
equal validity]; later cementing as a monotheistic religion
centered on Yahweh, one of the Ancient Canaanite deities;
the outgrowth of Yahweh-centric beliefs
along with a number of cult practices
gradually gave rise to a distinct Israelite
ethnic group setting them apart
from the other Canaanites
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
Maybe men labored under a yellow sky
bent under barley sheaves they’d cut,
returned behind limestone walls and leaned
to splash water on each other at the well.
You can see its crumbling curve today, in one
city as old when Cheops' pyramid was built
as pyramids are to us right now.
Jericho, not so far away from Egypt and,
our archaeologists tell us, likely really didn’t hear
the blare of Joshua’s trumpets shuddering down
old Canaan-cursed by-Noah, coaxing walls
to shudder, teeter, list from Israelite raids.
You see one barley-bearer shaking dry,
descend stair-tunnels to his flat to kneel
before his hungry daughter, hungry wife,
waiting for evening’s barley bread to cool.
He joins as they resume their business of the day
to gently set the cowrie eyes in Grandma’s face,
two priests removed the rest of her last year,
but left the precious head to decompose at home
scented in the wall with sweet Netufian herbs,
And now the family gathers near small fire,
desert nightbreeze filtering through the cracks
tenderly to soften Mother’s bony head
with daubs of plaster re-create her nose,
and gaping eye sockets, softening too
those black orbits with white plaster.
Slowly her death’s head touched tenderly
by younger finger tips becomes
something like a human head again,
If not quite living, cowrie shells complete
this vision of a vacant queenly stare
befits a family shrine. When things are done,
small granddaughter now squeals with delight
her own dark eyes reflect the fire-light.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
Being silent was best
Ham is strong and he threatened me
with a fatal accident
Then there was a child
Oh, my dear husband
the tireless
naturalist of the fermented juice
of sweet grapes
His old age has been tarnished
by that made-up anecdote
which hid the rapes
under a moment of shamelessness
But the punishment betrays it
anyway, the eternal curse
from the first scream
of the baby, innocent
Canaan, my youngest son
His generations to generation
subjugated and squeezed to death
in the purple lowlands
Jun 19, 2022
Jun 19, 2022 at 3:55 AM UTC
I'm going to write a sonnet
About love, desperate attempt and jealousy
He walks like wind, wind from Grand Canyon
He talks like honey, honey sweeter than Canaan
His brows spread like hawk
His eyes streams like spring brook
What do I love about him?
Oh, nothing particularly
Maybe it's the way he listens
How his face glows with glistens
Maybe it's his passion
Enlighten my dark age prison
O captain My captain, sail me through tempest amid my heart
Guide me through the time we are apart
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
When we last saw Noah,
He was about to embark
On a long, stormy journey
Aboard his mighty ark.
For forty days and nights
The heavens constantly drained
Their waters upon the earth,
For it rained and rained and rained--
Covering the towering Mt. Everest,
And the great Kilimanjaro.
Noah exclaimed, "It's raining
Like there's no tomorrow!"
Ham and Shem said, "Dad,
With our small, measly crew,
Feeding one million species
Is kind of hard to do."
Noah pointed outside
And looked at his sons and said,
"I suppose instead of in HERE,
You'd rather be out there--dead!"
That shut up the boys
Who attended to their tasks,
Saying, "We're feeding the lions
In case anyone asks."
Shem whispered to Ham,
"I like that lion, but she
Is always licking her chops
Whenever SHE sees ME!"
Ham said, "That kangaroo,
Who looks so calm and mellow,
Has a nasty kick.
He's not a very nice fellow."
After many days,
The waters receded; then Yay!
They were back on dry land;
All could go their own way.
The Bengal tigers went east;
The penguins headed south;
The skunks and beavers went west--
According to word of mouth.
Noah grabbed an animal
For a sacrifice quick and succinct,
And turned to his sons saying, "Oops!
I JUST made one species extinct."
Ham, Shem, and Japheth,
Had little time for mirth,
For now it was up to them
To repopulate the earth.
Growing grapes for wine
To Noah was time well spent,
Until he got drunk and naked--
All sprawled out in his tent.
Walking in on his father,
Ham saw a sight not so splendid
And ended up with a *** deal--
(Silly pun intended)--
For Noah cursed poor Ham
For having walked in on him.
So what if a guy saw him naked;
Hadn't he been to a gym?
Actually, the curse
Was more on Canaan, Ham's son.
How had poor Canaan managed
To be the guilty one?
I guess that's the nature of curses;
They don't always make much sense.
There also wasn't a lawyer
To come to Canaan's defense.
To live to be 950
Requires a very strong ticker.
But Noah had a weakness:
Trouble holding his liquor.
- by Bob B
*Sequel to "Noah's Dilemma"
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
The ability sincere to not in faith
Waver, to never for once cave in
Like Abraham to Sarah's chocolate
Gift of Hagar--
For by her Midas' touch, she
Turned her own maid to a mistress:
The genesis of a prolong distress--
When God's promises look lingering
Like a night dark and weary,
As pressure like tides keeps rising, but
To tarry still in hope and be decidedly
Waiting for heaven's bright day of reality
Like Joseph when folks, as the but-
Ler chief, are
Excelling in life, marriage and career--
Is verily an uncommon genre of grace,
Especially in this world of rat race.
For man, for comparison and jealousy,
Is no sooner despaired than he'd be
Seeking for an alternative in Ishmael, in-
Stead of waiting more for the blessing
Of a great child Isaac,
Who is the promised son and the only
Inheritor of the land brimming with milk--
Canaan--and dripping with honey.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Baby blue cushion with the fabric ties, painting rocks with orange and blue on newspaper, got a glob on the wood only rain can wash away. Clean the glass out with q-tips, squeaky clean, tap remains into ceramic bowl made in 3rd grade, medium blizzard with M&Ms; and Reece's peanut butter cups, a burger at that hotdog place featured on Martha Stewart with bacon bits, colored pencils, Barbie coloring books, Jeep keeps stalling in front of my house, don't eat my burger, Ellie and Duncan, full bag of mini peanut butter cups, South Park, Heavy Metal, The King of Limbs - eh, JWoww, Cupcake Wars, the Big Dipper, aqua colored bikini with a magazine full of pictures, videotape my monologues, short hair, sundresses, Nike shorts and tank tops. Mini with a pen in parking lot in Norwalk, feet in the pool water, ants, smelly dog, big house in New Canaan, white Audi A4, drive with the Mosley Tribes from Loehman's for $75 -- a steal, scotch tape on toenails, purple, blue, and green polished stripes, church parking lot on Duck Farm
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
There is something within the heart
of western society
a voice of sorts
a frothing, thrashing, screaming voice
which knows only one word,
west,
for some people it's god,
the west is the American holy land
a brand spanking new Canaan
it reeks of hard work
and tastes like the dust
kicked up from an eternity of tires and wheels and spokes
it smells like fresh prairies
and feels like a worn leather belt
and emaciated happy xylophone rib cages
and it looks like how adventure feels
the west, the endless west,
spurs and sunshine and simple life
always calling
always howling away in the warm humid south eastern nights
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
168
If the foolish, call them “flowers“—
Need the wiser, tell?
If the Savants “Classify” them
It is just as well!
Those who read the “Revelations”
Must not criticize
Those who read the same Edition—
With beclouded Eyes!
Could we stand with that Old “Moses”—
“Canaan” denied—
Scan like him, the stately landscape
On the other side—
Doubtless, we should deem superfluous
Many Sciences,
Not pursued by learned Angels
In scholastic skies!
Low amid that glad Belles lettres
Grant that we may stand,
Stars, amid profound Galaxies—
At that grand “Right hand”!
1.1k
Under the tree
Under the shade
I sat me down and wrote my poem
In the heat of noontide
The braze of summer
Reminiscence of my trials
Under the tree
Under the shade
I stood and sat
Stood and walked around
Aimlessly in heaviness
Wondering how, why and what for
Under the tree
Under the shade
I sat with my pen
And wrote my song immortal
Recounting my quondam thralldom
The genesis of my exodus
The Numbering of my lapidation
The Levitical ministry of providence
The Deuteronomic prospects of victoire
The Joshua-like expeditions and vigils
That brought triumph on enemy
And lead my feet to Canaan
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:32 AM UTC
As John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)
Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.
So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.
On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.
Witnessing
His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)
Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.
Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
*creepy night river awake like a fever
as fireflies glow in furtive morse code
the eerie evening commands silence
in the hollow empty spaces yielded
in sonorous silences by a yawning dearth
of everything that's sacred, pure and sweet
once there was raw laughter and joy here
and weavers wove rich tales of fat worms
for their pampered nestlings afloat on air
once there was life and presence here
but now small spaces abound in this vast absence
of sunshine smiles and catwalk swinging
now it's plovers, owls and night jars galore
as their apocalyptic cries smite the night
like a plague in New Canaan where glory
is never too far away from the surface gloss
of a loveliness kidnapped by the salacious gods
of lewd desires and morbid libidos alive in tales
that are forever testifying to the loud presence
of envious divinities on a free ride upon our egos
everything is gone now but the thunderous silence
and the smiles that lit up our days are now but a memory
of wan looks and faded joys clad in the hollow feelings of pain
and that's all that ever remains when our futile antics are done*
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
The instant you know God
You will realize that all-
Every one else even the
Creatures know as if they
Were only waiting for you.
The last shall be first and
The first shall be last. The
Shepherd is behind the
Sheep. Consider this: to
Be in the kingdom is to
Be with all that you love
Even all that you have
Been charged to love.
The kingdom will always
Be completed with you
In our sleep we dream
Of coming home, to
Wake here where we
Have lost no sheep.
I have known this place
But still I ask why does
The eternal moment not
Last but ecstasy seems to
Be born dying, now almost
Forgot like the night of the
Shooting stars in Canaan
We knew not that dying
We were being born again.
For Barbara
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
I remember when we lived in Paradise
I remember dwelling with God
I remember walking with the Father
I remember talking with the Son
I remember conversing with the Spirit
I remember the beauty that God had made
And I remember the fruit that was for us
I remember the animals that I named
And I remember the perfection there was
I remember having a relationship with God
I remember that day
And we left the garden
I remember being against God
And ourselves, and our children
I remember the sin I fell into
I remember telling my wife we had to go
And I remember leaving
I remember the tears, the pain, the regret
And I remember the blood
I remember this curse I brought
I remember my son
And how he killed his brother
I remember my son
And I remember his sons
I remember how they perverted God
I remember how they were pagan and wicked
And the flood, when they were destroyed
I remember my son, Noah
And I remember his righteousness
I remember the iniquity of even Noah, the righteous
I remember the sins of Noah's sons
And the pagan worship they began
I remember my son, Abraham
And his son Isaac
I remember the sacrifice
I remember Isaac's sons Israel and Judah
And the iniquity of their nations
I remember Egypt, and their god
And the slavery of my sons in the land
I remember the sins of my sons
I remember my sons in the desert
And the 40 years of sorrow
I remember them entering Canaan
And the beauty of the land promised
I remember the promises of God
I remember the promised King
And the seed of the king to come
I remember Judah and Israel
And warring among themselves
I remember the iniquity of my sons
I remember the sins of my sons
And their people scattered
I remember the pain and sorrow
And the exile they were given
I remember the loss of a people
I remember my final Son
And His gift given to us
I remember His death
And how He paid my debt
I remember the guilt
I remember the Father
And his assurance to me
I remember the Fall
And I remember the Spring
I remember it all
I remember that all deaths are mine to bear
And I was the founder
I remember the sin that comes with my name
And better yet, the grace that comes with His
I remember the name of Jesus
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
a Miduri
ring that
squat for
him and
tell members
it'll save
their souls
while attacks
on democracy
increase in
the land
as this
prosperity gospel
spreads without
central control
yet Operation
Canaan probe.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
Cut my tongues from the scriptures and on blank walls I'll draw pictures because in a room full of lonely there is only myself.
I read Romans and the Acts came before them,
talked with Ruth who knew all of the bad men,
So
In this land of Canaan I'll be slain then?
and what of Goliath?
Samson's got him in a headlock,
Delilah's going to give him a haircut
and the Baptist will read all a sermon.
A bit fanciful to suggest Beau Geste, but a young fräulein from Mannheim calls for the check
I think what the heck,
Geste
can stay in.
it's a walk on the plateau and you know we all want too
some do
some try
some don't even bother
and I don't
want to know why.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
The efik/ibibio people might call her ADIAHA
THE IGBO'S calls her Ada
A true born African
her hips seals lips
for a thousand words are wrapped around her waist... And
Her chest carries a mountain
A canaan of its own
Flowing with MILK AND HONEY
even Israel can't compete
for her mind has won more battles than JOSHUA ever did with a sword..
Her dark skin tell the tales of her originality..
She is the African salad.. Every man wish to taste..
The young ones look up to her while their mother's reminisce
She feed lord lugard and Nnamdi Azikiwe even before they knew how to spell their names..
She was there when Ojukwu declared war on her sons and her daughters were made barren..
She is the mother of poets and the inventor of poetry...
Stories were like poems in her mouth even before Hollywood could master the art...
Her tongue had painted more pictures in the heart of her children
so Her HISTORY they never forget
#MAMA_AFRICA
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
We sit see and yearn from afar
The landscape pride-flock'ed-people
In grid gift grieve, We cry 'Argh!'
Jealousy and envy make us enfeeble
We know our bus can get there
But our drivers are drunk
We know we shall get there
When our drivers aren't longer drunk
Our road to Canaan is unclear
Our bingers should rest on bunks
Less, our ignited bus will orb on a spot
Until the drunkards eyes is tears and clear
And alcohol in blood is no longer conk
Our bus to Canaan will orb on a spot.
Poet: Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
Open arms of our ancestors were chained by salvation
Imprisoned for their hospitality to wolves in white robes
Exemplars of ideal piety in a sea of persistent savagery
Anathematizing our ethnicity to centuries of slavery.
A rich heritage was converted by ecclesiastics
In exchange for a theology void of its vast history.
Kingdom's senior to Rome birthed civilizations, agriculture and commerce.
Yet its philosophy was condemned and baptized by brainwashers.
Our fruitful Motherland and legends found wanting by their holy book,
Genesis 9:25-27:
"Cursed be Canaan! The lowest of slaves will he be to his brothers. He also said, 'Blessed be the Lord, the God of Shem! May Canaan be the slave of Shem."
A poisoned doctrine arrested mentality of lineages
To deprive and surrender self, seeking an afterlife eternity,
To wholeheartedly fund false prophets n preachers of hypocrisy
And remain blinded to our heritage and congenital blessings.
"Africa must wake up, Sleeping sons of Jacob"
In slumber we backboned empires enteprises and entertainment
Still failing to grant our compensation and true valuation
Cause we are now followers to their Chains of Salvation.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
Memoirs in Diaspora…..
The Egypt I miss;
Had bread basket filled, bottled butter
Mouth watering sliced salted spiced snacks,
Vast garlic gotten from government grocers,
Onions, olives and countable orphans,
Gracious graduates donned in fitting gowns.
No pick-pocketing pirate police……
Even though we wailed upon Pharaohs’ whips
Stomachs were stuck with solid meals.
Is Moses’ Canaan carrying a curse?
I can’t help wondering.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 3:48 AM UTC