"discoverers" poems
As my letter must be brief,
I'll at once state my belief,
And this it is -- that, since the world began,
And Adam first did say,
"'Twas Eve led me astray,"
A woman hath more patience than a man.
If a man's obliged to wait
For some one who's rather late,
And if something can't be found
That he's sure should be around,
The listening air sometimes grows fairly blue.
Just watch a man who tries
To soothe a baby's cries;
Or put a stove pipe up in weather cold,
Into what a state he'll get;
How he'll fuss and fume and fret
And stamp and bluster round and storm and scold!
Some point to Job with pride,
As an argument for their side!
Why, it was so rare a patient man to see,
That when one was really found,
His discoverers were bound
To preserve for him a place in history!
And while I admit it's true
That man has some patience too,
And that woman isn't always sweetly calm,
Still I think all must agree
On this central fact -- that she
For central all-round patience bears the palm.
2k
In those hopeless nights i am sick of doubt
Confused child, will i go north? Will i go south?
Who has summoned the servants of the night?
They stir and wait, dead stones, ghosts in the light
Death comes uninvited, though god is lost
Smile child your sins will be washed
I believe i can reach your mind deep
The magic and the colors, the lust and the dreams
I want something, someone new
Someone to be there when the night is through
Discoverers and searchers stop wasting time
Redemption is a lie
Hidden connections and a forbidden trance
I summon you to pray and dance
Because all your sins are gone
Unless you waste the dawn
Words Of Harfouchism
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 5:06 PM UTC
And the knowledge of the hedgerow plant, I found embedded in leaf veins ... like in mine, etched along blue lines of a notebook. In the ripples on the remnants of water that pooled, before the mudflats claimed them are the striations of ol'butot near Naivasha. His stories tell of caves, a gleaming obsidian of a pre historic introspection. Do forty day fasts suffice to exorcise the springs of sulphur or the forced baptism of a flash flood washing six souls to Hades ? The sun glinted at me through a narrowness of fate, a gorge of interminable seconds and I marvelled at the strata of time in a warp, for it blurted out a moan.
Love spoke in nuanced layers of molten flow that crawled to stillness. Can I not say that stone speaks? A couple of hundred years back in time, self titled discoverers had seen land that had not been unseen by the thousands who lived for thousands until then. So yes, the strata spoke to me, like the striations in the leaves and the lines that were everywhere telling stories of interminable seconds. Time grooves like a death valley in an engraving, etched like a memory of that which has never been, ripples on sand, circles on water,
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 10:49 AM UTC
Once upon a millenium
I scrawled in awkward letters
Straining for an undiscovered profundity
Not so different
From an upright creature
Some ages past
Who stroked upon
An empty page
With what he thought
Were poignant truths
And monumental metaphors
Like uprights love to leave
So as to titillate
Their future discoverers
While stretching unabashedly
To be a candidate
Future philosophers will doff
With certain validation
For unique truisms.....
I am recorded here
Wow, I said admiringly
To myself
In my true language
Hey, dat's sump'm
Eat ya heart out, Aris
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 6:39 AM UTC
I found a new way
of being misunderstood
all the while
looking for the opposite;
arriving at the shores
of the wrong land,
so my discoverers
and your natives
immediately went to war;
thus worlds collide
at the hands of words
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
Did I printed my ligacy without
any wrong? I wonder'd, as my trot
what thou and I may have did?
Or! Had been just disgrac'd,
to her life;
All ever done is disillusion'd
to disincentiv'd her confidenc'd
Her heart completely disintergrat'd
by my deeds;
Had I been disobient;
leaving us, our hearts dismay?
MY ONLY CHANCE IS NOW!
Feeling, like I disdain'd her
Disempowering her completely, ever did;
Discriminating all thee care's, love's
her had to grant me;
Or! Had my face disguis'd,
My heart completely heartless'd?
Had my mind ever disclos'd, who I am?
Now thee portion of me happy with her;
Thee rest of me just in sorrow, regrets ever made,
her heart, in peaces!
And now my only chance to our waking souls;
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For our love all love of other sights controls;
And makes one little room an every where
Let her - discoverers to new worlds can offers
Let herself close to me, trust she shown before
Let us possess on one thing, love which, thee
most precious thing we'd ever possess'd in life time.
That's my only chance
Thee chance I'm to nagging
That I'm to begging
Thee only chance for me
That chance to do right by you
MY ONLY CHANCE!
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
merciless genocide
slaughter of native peoples
wrought with (super) wanton zeal
feeble ability to thwart
"discoverers" rapine wicked onslaught
merely ratcheted wrecked webbing
wrenched tribal unity,
violently rent asunder
vibrant indigenous linkedin weave
rendered sacred weltanschauung
decimated "noble savage"
woke wretched nightmare,
sans pock marked worsted weal
the Native American holocaust
shrouded in whitewashed veil
tragedy trampled truces
triggering tearful trail
scoped scattered remnant
snuffed out via surveil
futile sympathetic remonstrances,
viz rant and rail
hermetically sealed
***** deeds done dirt
blunted, cheapened,
and deadened
lance armstrong to quail
most definitely coloring faces
of captive
American Indians deathly pale
into figurative coffin
got hammered
rusty nine inch nail
subpar critical population mass
for survival, plus storied "red man"
bereft of ample potent male
off limits to original proprietors
forced to hightail
happy hunting grounds o'er hill and dale
becoming desiccated bleached bones
devoid of awful, pitiful,
and sorrowful fait accompli
and roaming spirits
like banshees bewail
grievous shadow a blot doth cause me to ail!
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
Sardonic savory armors against midnight shift,
Scrapbooks made from scrawny writings,
Wherein science is religion,
Some are hit and miss!!
Scowling, surely overcrowds happy intentions,
Noone mentions the fetal positions overthrow!!
Window peepers gaze between one another,
Serpent sermons drumline strong to song's of shipment sufferance,
Where thine utterance is grieved more than thou has ever felt!!!
More than the fall membrane beneathe your feet you shall blow!
Doth thou roll amongst forge stone?
Amongst the shows that made thou the mime thou art today../
A smile upon your cloak,
Yet thy finest of coats is in all disarray...
Perforaters try harshly to subdue our mother like peons,
Formulaic bringons,
Or turn one to sickened ones alike!!!!
Chasers of cognizant, bringers of fatality,
For doth thou chooseth to have life?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
L'afrique
Home of giant eagles
Land of short monsters
L'afrique
Rubies, oil, cowries
Trade route for ivories
L'afrique
Gold, Blood, Diamond
Cold blooded demons
L'afrique
Story for discoverers
Magic for sorcerers
L'afrique
Mother of green earth
Oil goddess of black liquid
L'afrique
Beauty of a map
Fast trampled forest
L'afrique
Milk cheese honey
Rich vast & sullen
L'afrique
Home of the dead
Land of the living
L'afrique
Home of abundance
Land of starvation
Of pains
Of tears in the rain!
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.
First come the discoverers, then the mercenaries, followed by the soldiers to "protect" us, for we know not what we have.
They come to "protect" and "civilize" us.
To save us from our wild savage ways.
Be it 1492, 1851, 1975, or 2016
The goal is all the same.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
We're still thinking we're seen as that man,
But THEY are all part of that clan.
We are The Humans, The Protectors, we are The People, just as all of our languages remind us.
We are the children of the Earth.
Now the cycle has come again.
First came the discoverers,
And we prayed.
Then came the mercenaries,
And we reasoned.
Do more than just dance this time my people...
The soldiers are coming.
The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.
Mni Wiconi
-KB 2016
Cante Waste Mani Kici Win
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC