"christo" poems
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
But I remain a believer in my ancestral religion
Whose God is wele but not the Germany world, it is a religion,
Like most of universal ancestral ones,
With appalling moral threshold,
When Elijah Masinde of dini ya Misambwa
Despised those who condemned man as notoriously religious
He meant human religious approach to life is absolute in nature
However diverse religions compete for human ears
Rich ones glorified in the luring away of modal ears
But all are devoid of spiritual impetus
Disappointing the progenitors of religious imperialism
These short-cutters in matters of sanctimony
Will not come to our heaven
They will get me sharing a cup of tea
With my sister- in-law; Mary, the mother of Jesus
And I will shun them, I will not know them
I will not invite them to a heavenly cup of tea
They will be suffocated by cadaverous appetite,
For we honor our religion with ancestral regard;
The Faith of Our Ancestors
But in ridicule they call us kaffirs, pagans, christo-pagans,
Animists, atheists, gentiles, non-believers, mediumists,
Rebellious rebels or whatsoever they call us;
The anti-muhamedan-mis-christologists,
Let them delude themselves,
If they disparage us with sick contumely
Abreast the dumbfounding development in sciences
Plus so fortuitous humanistic awareness,
Humanity in Religion has to adjust optimally
Religious masters have to help
Interpret the religious Books, bible, gita, quran
All Written or verbalistically in the glory of epical orality
In tandem with the best centered
Life extant,
Otherwise selfish religions becomes an old wine bag
With its old and stale wine,
You will persuade Russian carousers to drink
But to your chagrin, none will condone, your stale wine
Do not seek to sell your faith
Because every human community
Has an ancestral faith
Respect them all for that is gods in their accolade of
Omonipresecence,
Any man or woman without religion is dangerous
But do not advantagize yourselves
At the expense of people of other faiths
It is good you reciprocated
Planet earth is our only sure and known abode
If we lived well here, and there is another world
For those who will be good, we hope the conclave of Gods
Would all sit in judgment for their credit
And reward those who helped humble humanity
Of their religions as well as those of other religions
As for all the Gods love humanists.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
cracked nose &
watching moose beside the river,
on video,
he cocoons himself
in room and drug elementals.
boy pupa.
boy biking thru fog
& urban light.
city mystics, city-wet faces.
primates.
he works the grill and grins
in back. lollipop jar.
he pours grease into trap or teeth of great beast.
bucket cathedral.
corpse of bird,
decomposing in the alleyway ravine.
he packs luggage for the exodus
to northern california.
wicker owl
burning in the woods on a solstice
drunk, or moon.
the fire & the girl & his tongue to her neck.
bathe;
drain the dirt and blood of weekend off
to porcelain.
combed hair.
to appear in the lawn of withered fruit.
he wheels his father to the zoo. the old man
is bent beneath a blanket and tapping his fingers
for elephants.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
A time cuando todo el surfimiento ceases to exist,
Donde dolor es just a dream,
Y el amor is truly free and truly felt,
When we are hecho completo en Christo.
Mañana,
Cuando tenemos time to finally stop and actually ask each other,
Cómo estás haciendo?
When we have el tiempo a cocinar,
And to finally have a meal together.
Hasta Mañana.
Aug 9, 2023
Aug 9, 2023 at 9:19 PM UTC
If ever you think religious tolerance is at its nadir
Inter-religion integration or world religion a utopia
Stand before the sunned domes of the Christo Mandir
Where the Christ’s name mingles with Hare Krishna!
*Call it anything a temple a church
No different is our walked road
The church’s spire or the temple’s arch
Cannot be God’s encaged abode!*
Christo Mandir the Temple of Jesus
In many veins stand out one leaf
Hollows my perceived faith and class
At its door I cast aside my belief!
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
Don Quixote's
defunct
who once
mounted a stale
stallion
and pontificated theimpossibledream
Christo
he was a ragged hombre
and what I have to say is
how do you like your conquistador kid
Mister Muerte
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
I had a dream in the wee of the yester-night,
I was sleeping a lone on a reed wick-work of a bed
In my late grandmother’s ruffian thatched hut,
On the bed which she passed on,
On the day of her death,
She had earlier declared the bed a heirloom and memento,
To run among the grand children in her family,
Thus I was a sleep on this bed and began dreaming;
I was in a strange city, I don’t knew it
May be it was Jerusalem or Wales, am not sure,
I was walking on street, ***** and full of garbage,
Each person I met was not concerned with me,
But one woman who showed concern was mad,
She was carrying a grey cat in her arms
She asked me if I were headed to the church,
Before I responded with my awed yes;
She ululated before my eyes in her full feat of madness,
Then a huge building emerged from her red headscarf,
The building swallowed me, inside was maudlin and dull music
Like the one usually sang by christo-pagans
When attending a burial ceremony in Africa,
It was replete with irregular sounds,
Of church! Church! Church!
Riff-raff of human hordes flocked in
All of them looked different from me
Their skin was not smooth, it looked rubicund
Some were laughing, other were making nasal sounds
Not clear to me at all, at all, other made funny shouting sounds;
We are the kingdom of psychopomps, we are psychopompous,
One shot a lightening slap at my cheeks, he snarled at me;
Black discoboli! Jump and fight with our bulls.
I saw two bulls dashing at me; I was at the center of the circle
Formed by my foes, the human oats that came in,
The bulls attacked me with an aim to gore my tummy,
I kicked the bulls with one other kick of a man.
The bulls turned into cats on every kick I threw
Instead of mewing, they went melodramatic,
They began talking to me in Queen’s English,
One of the cats duped me that; I better **** before we fight further,
I followed command; I pulled out my **** from short my trouser,
I micturated till my bladder was fully empty,
Then I suddenly woke up from sleep,
Only to find out I have terribly wedded by bed.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
and there is, and always will be:
the highest bidding,
of all mortal men...
in latin it is phrased -
mort omni videre
*mort omni videre res,
*** absit deus.*
but in english it's simply -
death watches over all things;
death sees all.
hard to imagine an omnipotent
power,
with only death, attaining
such excellency,
and that reigning prestigiousness,
to question,
and override a bearing:
of a god;
death has a bearing, a totalitarian
concept of freud,
it is but Σ, the totality of all
things as necessarily crafted:
to only amount to as things:
needing to pass.
death sees all,
even though god is sought after in
the dimension of all things
inevitable, so mishandled in being
understood,
death sees all,
god, but a fraction of
the cherished events,
laboured over to surmount
to nothing but prayer,
and the languishing concern
of doubt...
death, in mortality's terms:
the ever pristine goddess -
that one animation sole animation
of the feminine in the godly scope
of things,
as mother upon birth,
so unto us the mother upon death...
mort omni videre -
death, all seeing;
mind a man's tear: in an ocean;
mort omni videre res,
vel *** absit deus -
death sees all things, (even)
with an absent god.
the mortal man has to understand
the other format of gravity:
as that, which has the necessary
"aspect" to: pass.
prior to **** sapiens comes
the **** mortalis...
**** mortalis est gravitas -
ad omni forma fama - primo tere.
freudian is just cheap christo to me,
with the divisioning via
sub- & un-,
freudianism is just
the jew reinventing the jew...
and that's about at imaginative
as talk of a wheel, employed to
reinvent a ******* carousel.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
Queen barista ***** on retreat yo
Mobbing fashionista smokin' reefah
Bro
Think you Christo?
Some bueno vista preyista?
goddess garlica antagonista?
I hate oregon
It hates me
Chomp bite chew bleed
Repeat
Chomp bite chew bleed
Sep 1, 2023
Sep 1, 2023 at 2:35 PM UTC