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preservationman Dec 2014
A foggy night on the streets of London
A man full of bitterness and separation of boundaries
It’s business details being the flow
It’s the life of Ebenezer Scrooge being uncanny in go
Having no respect for life
Doesn’t even want any advice
Scrooge’s business partner Marley who died years ago
Mr. Scrooge’s curtain is a story in being certain
As Ebenezer was asleep
Mr. Marley’s spirit walks in his soul to keep
Mr. Marley awoke Scrooge and caught him by surprise
He wanted Ebenezer to arise
Marley shouted, “Ebenezer Scrooge and open those eyes”
As Scrooge awoke, he couldn’t believe it was Marley that spoke
In fact, he thought it was one big joke
Marley told Ebenezer tail and there would be three Ghost in his prevail
It would be the spirit of the Past, Present and Future
This sounded strange to Scrooge being peculiar
As Scrooge’s sleep went on, the presence of the first ghost being ever so strong
The wind that blow through the house and the voice that brought chills
Yet Ebenezer was trying to have a cast iron will
The spotlight was on Ebenezer being his still
The Ghost was at the house where he belonged
A Ghost of Christmas past of Scrooge’s previous beginnings
Life as it was and leading to the present
The thought on Scrooge’s business partner who died long ago
Scrooge having no care but a future of beware
The future having possibilities of Scrooge’s no more
His life won’t have any remembrance to explore
An open door with no floor
Yet words hidden in the fog you can’t ignore
The Ghost of Scrooge’s future to change his ways
Otherwise a tombstone that will bear his name and what it will say
“A man lays forgotten and dies being rotten”
Suddenly Scrooge felt asleep, asleep asleep
It was Christmas morning, and the sun was shining
Bells were ringing and Scrooge opened his window
A Young boy was passing by
Scrooge was happy with tears in his eye
Scrooge asked the boy, “What day is it”?
It is Christmas Day Sir
Scrooge quickly got dressed and went to Cracket’s house and gave a Christmas gift and Turkey
He marveled at Tiny Tom
Scrooge finally saw the true meaning of Christmas within himself
Those three ghost were not like anybody else
The Christmas bells were ringing and so was the caroling
Scrooge being a man from when and a man with giving on can
Snow starts to fall and it was Christmas with no stall
The Londoner’s say Happy Holidays to all.
He was an unknown Ebenezer stone
A stone he was, gloriously still
Cold, dull, ready to be honed
A symbol of help, if not for the lack of will
Others have told him he was useless
Of which he had no answer to reply
Ignorant that he was overly blessed
He lived like he was not God's eternal ally
Until the truth was revealed that he was but a stone
Which lies within the Potter's hand
A brightly shining diamond meant for God's throne
A shimmering gem of hope, he stood grand
This old Ebenezer of Israel and Judea
Discovered paradise out of the denial of a single idea
After finding out the truth to why Charles Dickens named one of his most famous characters, Ebenezer, I was swept away by the story of the Ebenezer Stone found within the book of 1 Samuel in the Bible.  Going off of the many underlying meanings found within this story, this sonnet is a different portrayal of Mr. Scrooge and other men like him found within everyday life.
Santiago Nov 2015
// A que huele un guerrero cuando viene de batalla

huele a victoria, huele a victoria//

Por que Jehová está con él.


// Somos como escudos, tres son los valientes

y con su espiritu venceremos siempre//

A que huele un guerrero cuando viene de la batalla

A que huele un guerrero cuando viene de la batalla

//Huele a victoria, huele a victoria //

// Si con Dios peleas esto sabe a gloria// Sabe gloria

// Esto sabe a gloria, esto sabe a gloria
Yo, Beremundo el Lelo, surqué todas las rutas
y probé todos los mesteres.
Singlando a la deriva, no en orden cronológico ni lógico -en sin orden-
narraré mis periplos, diré de los empleos con que
nutrí mis ocios,
distraje mi hacer nada y enriquecí mi hastío...;
-hay de ellos otros que me callo-:
Catedrático fui de teosofía y eutrapelia, gimnopedia y teogonía y pansofística en Plafagonia;
barequero en el Porce y el Tigüí, huaquero en el Quindío,
amansador mansueto -no en desuetud aún- de muletos cerriles y de onagros, no sé dónde;
palaciego proto-Maestre de Ceremonias de Wilfredo el Velloso,
de Cunegunda ídem de ídem e ibídem -en femenino- e ídem de ídem de Epila Calunga
y de Efestión -alejandrino- el Glabro;
desfacedor de entuertos, tuertos y malfetrías, y de ellos y ellas facedor;
domeñador de endriagos, unicornios, minotauros, quimeras y licornas y dragones... y de la Gran Bestia.

Fui, de Sind-bad, marinero; pastor de cabras en Sicilia
si de cabriolas en Silesia, de cerdas en Cerdeña y -claro- de corzas en Córcega;
halconero mayor, primer alcotanero de Enguerrando Segundo -el de la Tour-Miracle-;
castrador de colmenas, y no de Casanovas, en el Véneto, ni de Abelardos por el Sequana;
pajecillo de altivas Damas y ariscas Damas y fogosas, en sus castillos
y de pecheras -¡y cuánto!- en sus posadas y mesones
-yo me era Gerineldos de todellas y trovador trovadorante y adorante; como fui tañedor
de chirimía por fiestas candelarias, carbonero con Gustavo Wasa en Dalecarlia, bucinator del Barca Aníbal
y de Scipión el Africano y Masinisa, piloto de Erik el Rojo hasta Vinlandia, y corneta
de un escuadrón de coraceros de Westmannlandia que cargó al lado del Rey de Hielo
-con él pasé a difunto- y en la primera de Lutzen.

Fui preceptor de Diógenes, llamado malamente el Cínico:
huésped de su tonel, además, y portador de su linterna;
condiscípulo y émulo de Baco Dionisos Enófilo, llamado buenamente el Báquico
-y el Dionisíaco, de juro-.

Fui discípulo de Gautama, no tan aprovechado: resulté mal budista, si asaz contemplativo.
Hice de peluquero esquilador siempre al servicio de la gentil Dalilah,
(veces para Sansón, que iba ya para calvo, y -otras- depilador de sus de ella óptimas partes)
y de maestro de danzar y de besar de Salomé: no era el plato de argento,
mas sí de litargirio sus caderas y muslos y de azogue también su vientre auri-rizado;
de Judith de Betulia fui confidente y ni infidente, y -con derecho a sucesión- teniente y no lugarteniente
de Holofernes no Enófobo (ni enófobos Judith ni yo, si con mesura, cautos).
Fui entrenador (no estrenador) de Aspasia y Mesalina y de Popea y de María de Mágdalo
e Inés Sorel, y marmitón y pinche de cocina de Gargantúa
-Pantagruel era huésped no nada nominal: ya suficientemente pantagruélico-.
Fui fabricante de batutas, quebrador de hemistiquios, requebrador de Eustaquias, y tratante en viragos
y en sáficas -algunas de ellas adónicas- y en pínnicas -una de ellas super-fémina-:
la dejé para mí, si luego ancló en casorio.
A la rayuela jugué con Fulvia; antes, con Palamedes, axedrez, y, en época vecina, con Philidor, a los escaques;
y, a las damas, con Damas de alto y bajo coturno
-manera de decir: que para el juego en litis las Damas suelen ir descalzas
y se eliden las calzas y sustentadores -no funcionales- en las Damas y las calzas en los varones.

Tañí el rabel o la viola de amor -casa de Bach, búrguesa- en la primicia
de La Cantata del Café (pre-estreno, en familia protestante, privado).
Le piqué caña jorobeta al caballo de Atila
-que era un morcillo de prócer alzada: me refiero al corcel-;
cambié ideas, a la par, con Incitato, Cónsul de Calígula, y con Babieca,
-que andaba en Babia-, dándole prima
fui zapatero de viejo de Berta la del gran pie (buen pie, mejor coyuntura),
de la Reina Patoja ortopedista; y hortelano y miniaturista de Pepino el Breve,
y copero mayor faraónico de Pepe Botellas, interino,
y porta-capas del Pepe Bellotas de la esposa de Putifar.

Viajé con Julio Verne y Odiseo, Magallanes y Pigafetta, Salgan, Leo e Ibn-Batuta,
con Melville y Stevenson, Fernando González y Conrad y Sir John de Mandeville y Marco Polo,
y sólo, sin De Maistre, alredor de mi biblioteca, de mi oploteca, mi mecanoteca y mi pinacoteca.
Viajé también en tomo de mí mismo: asno a la vez que noria.

Fui degollado en la de San Bartolomé (post facto): secundaba a La Môle:
Margarita de Valois no era total, íntegramente pelirroja
-y no porque de noche todos los gatos son pardos...: la leoparda,
las tres veces internas, íntimas, peli-endrina,
Margarita, Margotón, Margot, la casqui-fulva...-

No estuve en la nea nao -arcaica- de Noé, por manera
-por ventura, otrosí- que no fui la paloma ni la medusa de esa almadía: mas sí tuve a mi encargo
la selección de los racimos de sus viñedos, al pie del Ararat, al post-Diluvio,
yo, Beremundo el Lelo.

Fui topógrafo ad-hoc entre El Cangrejo y Purcoy Niverengo,
(y ad-ínterim, administré la zona bolombólica:
mucho de anís, mucho de Rosas del Cauca, versos de vez en cuando),
y fui remero -el segundo a babor- de la canoa, de la piragua
La Margarita (criolla), que navegó fluvial entre Comiá, La Herradura, El Morito,
con cargamentos de contrabando: blancas y endrinas de Guaca, Titiribí y Amagá, y destilados
de Concordia y Betulia y de Urrao...
¡Urrao! ¡Urrao! (hasta hace poco lo diríamos con harta mayor razón y con aquese y este júbilos).
Tras de remero de bajel -y piloto- pasé a condueño, co-editor, co-autor
(no Coadjutor... ¡ni de Retz!) en asocio de Matías Aldecoa, vascuence, (y de un tal Gaspar von der Nacht)
de un Libraco o Librículo de pseudo-poemas de otro quídam;
exploré la región de Zuyaxiwevo con Sergio Stepánovich Stepansky,
lobo de donde se infiere, y, en más, ario.

Fui consejero áulico de Bogislao, en la corte margravina de Xa-Netupiromba
y en la de Aglaya crisostómica, óptima circezuela, traidorcilla;
tañedor de laúd, otra vez, y de viola de gamba y de recorder,
de sacabuche, otrosí (de dulzaina - otronó) y en casaciones y serenatas y albadas muy especializado.
No es cierto que yo fuera -es impostura-
revendedor de bulas (y de mulas) y tragador defuego y engullidor de sables y bufón en las ferias
pero sí platiqué (también) con el asno de Buridán y Buridán,
y con la mula de Balaám y Balaám, con Rocinante y Clavileño y con el Rucio
-y el Manco y Sancho y don Quijote-
y trafiqué en ultramarinos: ¡qué calamares -en su tinta-!,
¡qué Anisados de Guarne!, ¡qué Rones de Jamaica!, ¡qué Vodkas de Kazán!, ¡qué Tequilas de México!,
¡qué Néctares de Heliconia! ¡Morcillas de Itagüí! ¡Torreznos de Envigado! ¡Chorizos de los Ballkanes! ¡Qué Butifarras cataláunicas!
Estuve en Narva y en Pultawa y en las Queseras del Medio, en Chorros Blancos
y en El Santuario de Córdova, y casi en la de San Quintín
(como pugnaban en el mismo bando no combatí junto a Egmont por no estar cerca al de Alba;
a Cayetana sí le anduve cerca tiempo después: preguntádselo a Goya);
no llegué a tiempo a Waterloo: me distraje en la ruta
con Ida de Saint-Elme, Elselina Vanayl de Yongh, viuda del Grande Ejército (desde antaño... más tarde)
y por entonces y desde años antes bravo Edecán de Ney-:
Ayudante de Campo... de plumas, gongorino.
No estuve en Capua, pero ya me supongo sus mentadas delicias.

Fabriqué clavicémbalos y espinetas, restauré virginales, reparé Stradivarius
falsos y Guarnerius apócrifos y Amatis quasi Amatis.
Cincelé empuñaduras de dagas y verduguillos, en el obrador de Benvenuto,
y escriños y joyeles y guardapelos ad-usum de Cardenales y de las Cardenalesas.
Vendí Biblias en el Sinú, con De la Rosa, Borelly y el ex-pastor Antolín.
Fui catador de tequila (debuté en Tapachula y ad-látere de Ciro el Ofiuco)
y en México y Amecameca, y de mezcal en Teotihuacán y Cuernavaca,
de Pisco-sauer en Lima de los Reyes,
y de otros piscolabis y filtros muy antes y después y por Aná del Aburrá, y doquiérase
con El Tarasco y una legión de Bacos Dionisos, pares entre Pares.
Vagué y vagué si divagué por las mesillas del café nocharniego, Mil Noches y otra Noche
con el Mago de lápiz buido y de la voz asordinada.
Antes, muy antes, bebí con él, con Emmanuel y don Efe y Carrasca, con Tisaza y Xovica y Mexía y los otros Panidas.
Después..., ahora..., mejor no meneallo y sí escanciallo y persistir en ello...

Dicté un curso de Cabalística y otro de Pan-Hermética
y un tercero de Heráldica,
fuera de los cursillos de verano de las literaturas bereberes -comparadas-.
Fui catalogador protonotario en jefe de la Magna Biblioteca de Ebenezer el Sefardita,
y -en segundo- de la Mínima Discoteca del quídam en referencia de suso:
no tenía aún las Diabelli si era ya dueño de las Goldberg;
no poseía completa la Inconclusa ni inconclusa la Décima (aquestas Sinfonías, Variaciones aquesas:
y casi que todello -en altísimo rango- tan Variaciones Alredor de Nada).

Corregí pruebas (y dislates) de tres docenas de sota-poetas
-o similares- (de los que hinchen gacetilleros a toma y daca).
Fui probador de calzas -¿prietas?: ceñidas, sí, en todo caso- de Diana de Meridor
y de justillos, que así veníanle, de estar atán bien provista
y atán rebién dotada -como sabíalo también y así de bien Bussy d'Amboise-.
Temperé virginales -ya restaurados-, y clavecines, si no como Isabel, y aunque no tan baqueano
como ése de Eisenach, arroyo-Océano.
Soplé el ***** bufón, con tal cual incongruencia, sin ni tal cual donaire.
No aporreé el bombo, empero, ni entrechoqué los címbalos.

Les saqué puntas y les puse ribetes y garambainas a los vocablos,
cuando diérame por la Semasiología, cierta vez, en la Sorbona de Abdera,
sita por Babia, al pie de los de Úbeda, que serán cerros si no valen por Monserrates,
sin cencerros. Perseveré harto poco en la Semántica -por esa vez-,
si, luego retorné a la andadas, pero a la diabla, en broma:
semanto-semasiólogo tarambana pillín pirueteante.
Quien pugnó en Dénnevitz con Ney, el peli-fulvo
no fui yo: lo fue mi bisabuelo el Capitán...;
y fue mi tatarabuelo quien apresó a Gustavo Cuarto:
pero sí estuve yo en la Retirada de los Diez Mil
-era yo el Siete Mil Setecientos y Setenta y Siete,
precisamente-: releed, si dudaislo, el Anábasis.
Fui celador intocable de la Casa de Tócame-Roque, -si ignoré cuyo el Roque sería-,
y de la Casa del Gato-que-pelotea; le busqué tres pies al gato
con botas, que ya tenía siete vidas y logré dar con siete autores en busca de un personaje
-como quien dice Los Siete contra Tebas: ¡pobre Tebas!-, y ya es jugar bastante con el siete.
No pude dar con la cuadratura del círculo, que -por lo demás- para nada hace falta,
mas topé y en el Cuarto de San Alejo, con la palanca de Arquimedes y con la espada de Damocles,
ambas a dos, y a cual más, tomadas del orín y con más moho
que las ideas de yo si sé quién mas no lo digo:
púsome en aprietos tal doble hallazgo; por más que dije: ¡Eureka! ...: la palanca ya no servía ni para levantar un falso testimonio,
y tuve que encargarme de tener siempre en suspenso y sobre mí la espada susodicha.

Se me extravió el anillo de Saturno, mas no el de Giges ni menos el de Hans Carvel;
no sé qué se me ficieron los Infantes de Aragón y las Nieves de Antaño y el León de Androcles y la Balanza
del buen Shylock: deben estar por ahí con la Linterna de Diógenes:
-¿mas cómo hallarlos sin la linterna?

No saqué el pecho fuera, ni he sido nunca el Tajo, ni me di cuenta del lío de Florinda,
ni de por qué el Tajo el pecho fuera le sacaba a la Cava,
pero sí vi al otro don Rodrigo en la Horca.
Pinté muestras de posadas y mesones y ventas y paradores y pulquerías
en Veracruz y Tamalameque y Cancán y Talara, y de riendas de abarrotes en Cartagena de Indias, con Tisaza-,
si no desnarigué al de Heredia ni a López **** tuerto -que era bizco-.
Pastoreé (otra vez) el Rebaño de las Pléyades
y resultaron ser -todellas, una a una- ¡qué capretinas locas!
Fui aceitero de la alcuza favorita del Padre de los Búhos Estáticos:
-era un Búho Sofista, socarrón soslayado, bululador mixtificante-.
Regí el vestier de gala de los Pingüinos Peripatéticos,
(precursores de Brummel y del barón d'Orsay,
por fuera de filósofos, filosofículos, filosofantes dromomaníacos)
y apacenté el Bestiario de Orfeo (delegatario de Apollinaire),
yo, Beremundo el Lelo.

Nada tuve que ver con el asesinato de la hija del corso adónico Sebastiani
ni con ella (digo como pesquisidor, pesquisante o pesquisa)
si bien asesoré a Edgar Allan Poe como entomólogo, cuando El Escarabajo de Oro,
y en su investigación del Doble Asesinato de la Rue Morgue,
ya como experto en huellas dactilares o quier digitalinas.
Alguna vez me dio por beberme los vientos o por pugnar con ellos -como Carolus
Baldelarius- y por tomar a las o las de Villadiego o a las sus calzas:
aquesas me resultaron harto potables -ya sin calzas-; ellos, de mucho volumen
y de asaz poco cuerpo (si asimilados a líquidos, si como justadores).
Gocé de pingües canonjías en el reinado del bonachón de Dagoberto,
de opíparas prebendas, encomiendas, capellanías y granjerías en el del Rey de los Dipsodas,
y de dulce privanza en el de doña Urraca
(que no es la Gazza Ladra de Rossini, si fuéralo
de corazones o de amantes o favoritos o privados o martelos).

Fui muy alto cantor, como bajo cantante, en la Capilla de los Serapiones
(donde no se sopranizaba...); conservador,
conservador -pero poco- de Incunables, en la Alejandrina de Panida,
(con sucursal en El Globo y filiales en el Cuarto del Búho).

Hice de Gaspar Hauser por diez y seis hebdémeros
y por otras tantas semanas y tres días fui la sombra,
la sombra misma que se le extravió a Peter Schlémil.

Fui el mozo -mozo de estribo- de la Reina Cristina de Suecia
y en ciertas ocasiones también el de Ebba Sparre.
Fui el mozo -mozo de estoques- de la Duquesa de Chaumont
(que era de armas tomar y de cálida sélvula): con ella pus mi pica en Flandes
-sobre holandas-.

Fui escriba de Samuel Pepys -¡qué escabroso su Diario!-
y sustituto suyo como edecán adjunto de su celosa cónyuge.
Y fuí copista de Milton (un poco largo su Paraíso Perdido,
magüer perdido en buena parte: le suprimí no pocos Cantos)
y a la su vera reencontré mi Paraíso (si el poeta era
ciego; -¡qué ojazos los de su Déborah!).

Fui traductor de cablegramas del magnífico Jerjes;
telefonista de Artajerjes el Tartajoso; locutor de la Esfinge
y confidente de su secreto; ventrílocuo de Darío Tercero Codomano el Multilocuo,
que hablaba hasta por los codos;
altoparlante retransmisor de Eubolio el Mudo, yerno de Tácito y su discípulo
y su émulo; caracola del mar océano eólico ecolálico y el intérprete
de Luis Segundo el Tartamudo -padre de Carlos el Simple y Rey de Gaula.
Hice de andante caballero a la diestra del Invencible Policisne de Beocia
y a la siniestra del Campeón olímpico Tirante el Blanco, tirante al blanco:
donde ponía el ojo clavaba su virote;
y a la zaga de la fogosa Bradamante, guardándole la espalda
-manera de decir-
y a la vanguardia, mas dándole la cara, de la tierna Marfisa...

Fui amanuense al servicio de Ambrosio Calepino
y del Tostado y deMatías Aldecoa y del que urdió el Mahabarata;
fui -y soylo aún, no zoilo- graduado experto en Lugares Comunes
discípulo de Leon Bloy y de quien escribió sobre los Diurnales.
Crucigramista interimario, logogrifario ad-valorem y ad-placerem
de Cleopatra: cultivador de sus brunos pitones y pastor de sus áspides,
y criptogramatista kinesiólogo suyo y de la venus Calipigia, ¡viento en popa a toda vela!
Fui tenedor malogrado y aburrido de libros de banca,
tenedor del tridente de Neptuno,
tenedor de librejos -en los bolsillos del gabán (sin gabán) collinesco-,
y de cuadernículos -quier azules- bajo el ala.
Sostenedor de tesis y de antítesis y de síntesis sin sustentáculo.
Mantenedor -a base de abstinencias- de los Juegos Florales
y sostén de los Frutales -leche y miel y cerezas- sin ayuno.
Porta-alfanje de Harún-al-Rashid, porta-mandoble de Mandricardo el Mandria,
porta-martillo de Carlos Martel,
porta-fendiente de Roldán, porta-tajante de Oliveros, porta-gumía
de Fierabrás, porta-laaza de Lanzarote (¡ búen Lancelot tan dado a su Ginevra!)
y a la del Rey Artús, de la Ca... de la Mesa Redonda...;
porta-lámpara de Al-Eddin, el Loca Suerte, y guardián y cerbero de su anillo
y del de los Nibelungos: pero nunca guardián de serrallo ni cancerbero ni evirato de harem...
Y fui el Quinto de los Tres Mosqueteros (no hay quinto peor) -veinte años después-.

Y Faraute de Juan Sin Tierra y fiduciario de
‘I am pure, forever now,’
The words scratched on a skull,
That I dug up one morning
In a garden, back in Hull.
I didn’t know just who it was
Or where the skull had been,
The skull itself the only one
That knew what it had seen.

There were no other bones, they were
All missing, neck to toe,
Perhaps they’d gone on walkabout
And said, ‘We’ll let you know!’
The skull was left to rest in peace
Beneath a flower bed,
Where jonquils wavered in the breeze
Above this lonely head.

The bed was bound by sleepers
That were there before the time
My grandparents had owned the house -
Who covered up this crime?
They must have known, had surely known
Whose head it was, deceased,
Before they laid that garden bed
Hacked off the head, at least!

For someone scraped those five short words
Bit deep into the bone,
Had used the knife that cut its throat?
Or merely, some sharp stone.
I held the skull beneath the tap
To wash away the dirt,
The empty sockets stared at me
Relentless, in their hurt.

Was this a male or female skull?
I found it hard to say,
The teeth were young and pearly white
I called it ‘she’ that day,
Old Jeb, the gardener came round
And saw, and burst in tears,
‘I haven’t seen that pretty smile
In more than fifty years!’

‘Her name was Clementine,’ he said,
‘A little pantry maid,
Back in the days of service when
We all were underpaid,
When I was just a lad myself
And new into the fold,
Your crusty great grandfather ruled,
Old Ebenezer Gold!’

‘We weren’t allowed to mix back then,
We slept on different floors,
He took a special interest in
The womenfolk, indoors.
He’d stalk around at midnight, checking
Under every bed,
Would threaten us with vengeance from
The Lord above, he said.’

‘I’d meet with Clementine outside,
We’d use the potting shed,
She’d tease and tempt me daily, dare me
Sneak into her bed,
Then one day she came crying, but
She wouldn’t tell me why,
Just said that Ebenezer was
A sneak, a ***** spy!’

‘I thought she must have got the sack,
She simply disappeared,
And nobody would mention her
Their lips were sealed, I fear.
He really had a hold on us
He oversaw the plots,
And said I had to seed that bed
With blue Forget-Me-Nots.’

He died near forty years ago
So Jeb and I agreed,
There wasn’t any point to raise
A scandal, without need,
I told him to put back the skull,
He cried, and kissed it lots;
Pulled out the jonquils, planted seeds
Of blue Forget-Me-Nots!

David Lewis Paget
When Mother Teresa
Saw the Leaning Tower Of Pisa
She Knew that Julius Caesar
Would renew her visa.

Eating curried pizza
At a bar called Mitzvah
With ex-scrooge Ebenezer
And the Mona Lisa
All three did concur
That nothing defeats
Or beats her.
Best read out loud starting slowly in the first verse then speeding up for the next four lines and then back to slow to finish, preferably in a very public place.
Allen Wilbert Sep 2013
A Bizarre Czar

You can call me the Grinch,
stealing Christmas was such a cinch.
Went to Whoville, and stole the toys,
crying was all the little girls and boys.
You can call me Ebenezer Scrooge,
my bank account and ***** is very huge.
Bah humbug to all you poor people,
if you only could see the size of my steeple.
I am mean, I am vicious,
unlike you I'm very ambitious.
I'll take your home, I'll take your car,
make your payments or I'll leave a scar.
Some call me the new ******,
but I'm stronger and much bigger.
I love to see chaos and destruction,
pretty soon, I wont need an introduction.
I'm a genius, who is insane,
I cause suffering, I cause pain.
All of you, are so far beneath,
too rule the world is my belief.
I rule the north, I rule the south,
don't you dare open your mouth.
I rule the west, I rule the east,
I used to be a catholic priest.
Before I take over this pathetic world,
a thousand pounds I once curled.
Don't you dare give me a reason,
especially during the baseball season.
Before I take everyone as my prisoner,
I need your consent with a signature.
Be prepared to be my slave,
I have become the latest rave.
People follow just like fools,
I take their money and their jewels.
I'm the leader of a new cult,
death to you all will be the result.
Noah A Baker Oct 2014
There was a time,
A year into the future,
when we used to frolic and dance in the sand.
Usually, I don't like beaches,
I hate large crowds,
Hate 'em hate 'em
and I will 'till pigs fly.
Sometimes I think I'm not like the others
even though I desperately wish to be.
I'd like to donate my shoe collection
to the Salvation Army, or Goodwill,
for them to be put to better use
instead of sitting unused
surrounded by crumpled tissues and overdue books.
Or I could build a time capsule
to be opened the next century.
Hopefully the future Ebenezer Scrooge
finds the Ghost of Frolicking Past
and actually learns to enjoy beaches.
First poem in quite a while. College *****.
Bob B Dec 2017
Was Ebenezer Scrooge in Dickens'
Christmas Carol purely fictitious?
No, Scrooges live today,
Equally greedy, cold and ambitious.

They represent Scrooge before
He earned our admiration and saw
That human compassion came only after
His ice-cold heart had begun to thaw.

His transformation showed him his former
Cruel disregard for humanity
And let him see that miserliness
Was nothing but a heartless insanity.

Modern Scrooges fail to see
The light of compassion that brightly outshines them.
Their greed prevents them from seeing the moral
Bankruptcy that clearly defines them.

They couldn't care less about
The hard-working and struggling masses.
Their main concern is that each law
That benefits the wealthy passes.

Some of these Scrooges you will find
Working in Congress, eagerly serving
Wealthy donors who give them money
And feel as though they're more deserving.

Creating laws to make their pockets
Overflow: that's their aim.
To them the parasitical poor
Deserve bitter contempt and blame.

One wonders if these greedy misers
Find it hard to resist the temptation
Of saying, "Then why not let them die
And decrease the surplus population?"

“Aren't there workhouses?” and “Aren't there prisons?”
Are what these Scrooges appear to say.
“Concerns of the poor are not our business;
Why can’t they just go away?”

Ebenezer Scrooge was lucky:
His transformation showed him the light.
Will wealthy Scrooges running this country
Discover compassion and be less tight?

-by Bob B (12-28-17)
Cyril Blythe Nov 2012
(n) Ebenezer

1. Summer-Fall
The hands on the pews beaded in Summer sweat. The whiskey
whispers fall off the praising tongues of the Presbyterian choir
filling the sanctuary and beating at the stain glass windows
that a bird hit last week leaving a crack and when the congregation
saw it’s blooded feathers we said oh, dear and poor soul and then
climbed into our pickups and minivans and forgot and left to eat
a Sunday feast of Mexican food and rest, Sabbath naps are Biblical.

2. Winter-Spring
The robin rotted by November but the frost killed the ground too
soon for the bird to be laid to rest back beneath the protestant grass
and stones that the pastor claims are as powerful and rich of a blessing
as the stones the Jews of old inscribed with scripts wrought deep with
pleas for rescue and wails for salvation and scripted too with reminders
of trials and tribulations because trials end and Christ will reign so we drive
over the bones of robins and grass, tires kicking up our own Ebenezers.
Kris Aug 2015
it's 2.32am and i'm sitting alone in my room cramming advert notes into my brain for the exam barely 12 hours away
i can't remember anything, but it doesn't matter. i'll cram anyway, since it's the only thing i can do now
i've cracked open a fresh can of redbull for this ****, and i'll take it one step at a time
the raw panic when i thought about having to remodule was stark and completely gripping just a couple of hours ago
now, i have reached this zen-like calm and i'm not quite sure whether to be worried that i'm being distracted by the thin girls i see on tumblr

my stomach growls. i ignore it. it's far too late to eat. the can of redbull i'm having is already 159.75 calories
159.75 calories too many
i have never been good with numbers, i once scored 0/65 for a math test 2 months before my gce o levels
but for this, i will count
i will count like how ebenezer scrooge did. with great precision and scrutiny
i was never good enough for you. i never will be. but if there's something i can control in my life, i will make it this

less is more,
and i, will always be too much.
advertising exam at 3pm :')
Ebenezer is alive and kicking
stamping his brand of misery on my
Christmas tree,
picking the bones of last years lights
ticking the box for boxing day.

I wish the ghost of what is to be and what is to come would pick up a gun and blow him away,but
perhaps the ghost of the present will let that be,because he is the ghost of insanity.
I saw him once played by Lon Chaney or it may have been Charles Hawtrey putting a present under another tree
or maybe it was in the Wizard of Oz
I can't remember because
I'm old now.

Oh Dickens, how you shot me down with your insights into London town
there's a miracle to come on 34th street,BBC One, or so I'm told,personally I don't hold out much hope
so I sit by the radio braiding rope and drinking some dope kind of *****.

I suppose it's in the City and the people one knows that the miracles occur,
I sometimes wish I was there
an Ebenezer sticking it to the masses,
the thought passes
time ticks by.
Derik M Smith Jul 2013
I would try and describe her,

But the air around me gets colder as my heart moves further away from its purposeful place,
My prelude, oh muse, my dearest darling dancing in my thoughts,
Like Ebenezer’s ghosts she flies with me through places I’ve been,
And shares with me the places I have always wanted to find.

I would try and describe her,

But I only looked on her once,
Of all the time that I allowed,
I stole only one part of one second to fully fill my eyes,
Too narrow of slits to take in all the things I saw in front of them,

Like heat emits from the sun beauty pours from this woman,
Naturally there, overwhelmingly there, endlessly there,
As if beauty swiftly leapt from every cherished thing in this world,
To rest effortlessly within the eyes, the voice, and the smile of this woman,

I would try and describe her,

But description is impossible,
As she belongs in Plato’s cave,
Where perfection is bland and pleasure is boring,
Where merely the thought,
Of another stolen part,
Of another stolen second,
With my emitting sunshine love,
Is painted in rich oils on every surface.
RJ Days Jul 2015
I weep for the breakers of things.
I cry for the destroyers
I mourn for the burners,
the crushers,
the warriors;
My heart breaks for the breakers of things.

From some timid landmark of dawn
From some futile cry of a mother in morning
From one tired yelp at the breaking of day
Arising despising the darkness descending
From some sparrows soaring
Where mansions are shining
And we with the warmth of hellfire opining
Weep yonder, we breakers of things.

They bled their red, their lines drawn deep
They poured their pots to wine
They gave the evil lonely sun
some bricks to bake
some backs to burn,
They sizzled, swaddled, and in air remembered
what life means to the withered, breakers of things.

Tarry not longing for some Ebenezer
Tarry not healing and balming the wicked
Tarry not over these dreams of ash
forming cracking among the sickest
secret heros of these verses
Won't weep for you, you breakers of things.

We fly with the fortunate
We jet high on the vastest expanses
a geography of sorrow
charting the grief of the waters
We dive deep down among broken things.
We lament holy breakers of things.
Kari May 2017
We are living in a dictatorship, a tyrant is at large.
The Aristocrats are clawing on to their wealth and privilage
Ebenezer Scrooge pales in all spectrum
The Peasants awakened in anguish, brews a tempestous whirlwind.
Torches brought to life,
roaring ******* flames of justice
Torture’s a friendly foe,
the time for lamenting has been extinguished.
 
Directing their stubby fingers, master of guile,
stroking their overgrown stomach
“Leech the Swines!
Bury their bodies, all but their sham crown
Garlands of heads, draped on my wall.”
A source of warmth for the winter’s plight, A trophy
triumphing the seeds of abeyance
Desolating fate is sealed by this stern decree.
 
Free hand-reading; not requiring an oracle.
“Am I not a benevolent King?”
**** out the roots.
One by one,
**** out the roots of evil.
For the root of all evil is good.


The peasants thin and scrawny.
Hunger, their morning advocate and evening lover-
Lusting to sink their teeth in to Pride.
 
The Nobel robed in mulberry silk
making love to a ******* pastry, birthed by a coinless *******.
Ascended into the abyssal inner circle of Hell
 
Those armoured with royal blood adorned in leather costumes
-vagrants cannot discriminate-
slaughtered while Mercy slumbers.
**** the aristocrats, for they are selfish!
The abolishment of poverty, the bane of the Monarchical eradication
 
A diabolical scheme!
Says the soulless estranged with peace.
inspired by Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities"
just jabbering gibberish (A - I)

Again, another awkward ambitious
arduous attempt at alphabetically
arranging atrociously ambiguously
absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.

Because...? Basically bonafide belching,
bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,
bereft ******, bleeds blasé blues, begetting
bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,
boasting bougainvillea background.

Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap
chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,
chafed centenary, codifies communication
cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably
cheerful college coed.

Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,
doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood
descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring
dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,

deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor
Demento double, declaring depraved
daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck
derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.

Eccentric, edified English exile,
effervescent, elementary, echinoderm
eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,
etches, *******, effortless exceptional
emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,

eschatologically entranced, elongated
elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,
effectively experiments, emulates epochal
eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,
exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting
emphysema.

Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative
flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,
fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,
felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,
flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,
faceless, feckless, financially forked,

foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled
feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,
fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs
"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating
fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.

Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,
goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,
genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,
gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,
garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,

gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic
giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy
gewgaw gazing guy, geographically germane,
gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,
guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns
ginning gumpshun.

Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,
haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,
hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely
hackneyed, heady, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,
hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,
Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic
heterosexual **** sapiens historical heirloom,
homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.

Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,
idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,
irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,
ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,
insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble
itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating
immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted
inside igneous intrusions immensely
imperturbable improbable.
Wk kortas Dec 2021
Unlike the feted Ebenezer, our intangible visitors
Are not necessarily seasonal in nature,
Nor do they waft into scene
As the result of our direct malfeasance
(Sometimes the case, to be sure,
But more likely they are the stepchildren
Of our omissions rather than our commissions)
Coming among us not through wanton transgressions,
But the upshot of our mortality
And its associated failings,
And as they glide translucently among us
In this season where the darkness comes so early
(Yet the light clutching the western horizon
For an imperceptibly longer time each day)
Their presence may be somewhat more benign
If we are able to undertake the act
Of forgiving ourselves.
Ebenezer's got his knees under the table
watching movies on your cable TV,
Scrooge gets it all for free or didn't you know?

And we came down from the trees for this?

Fight for what we get and when we get
we get little or nothing and nothing's about the measure of it,
we're being treated like **** to be shovelled away
while the fat cats play us for fools.

Nothing schools you more than what you want and can't ignore,
I'm thinking the tide is about to be turned
time that we burned down the old order
and
bring in a much fairer system.

I see management wannabe's trying so hard to be pleasing, but they can't have it both ways
pick your sides and make sure that you're sure,
no cure for losers or baldness.

We wish you a merry Christmas get ******, make sure you miss us, we wish you a merry Christmas and see you next year.
And the world woke that cold winter morning
there was no light
there was no heat
vehicles were left where they stopped
not abandoned just worthless

We looked out the window
dressed in overcoats, scarf, onesie's
and double socks
trying not to breath on the glass

Neighbors shrugging shoulders
listening to a battery operated radio
fuming at the demands coming from the
private islands of the new world oligarchs

Across the way
smoke billowed form a house which still had
a chimney, we could feel the heat

I told the children stories of when I was a child
In the winter I had to get the coal from the
coal bunker at the bottom of the garden
chop sticks place them on top of old news papers
and light the fire for my brothers and sisters

The good old days I smiled to myself
as I found an unused summer barbecue
we huddled around it and toasted some bread
the children laughed
we will survive
Don't have to be Russian to be an oligarch.
Why do I need a reason to pay for your drink at a drink stand?
Yes, I understand that your name is unknown to me.
Yes I understand that I'm not going to see you in my home tomorrow night.
And yes, I understand that you're not my responsibility.

Why does my wanting of a smile during the autumn months need a catalyst that has been known to me for years before this season?
Why does the rain fall so heavily on the trees and plants that are begging for it's sustenance?

Don't feel bad or guilty that I'm not getting anything out of this transaction.
For you it means nothing, and to me, that's why it means everything.
Don't you understand that your lack of faith is what makes my kindness more worthwhile?

And before you start thinking that I'm doing it for the challenge of making Ebenezer smile near Christmas, I need to tell you that's not the reason.
It's the reward.

You keep shouting about how offended you are by my gesture, and by all means you have that right. I appreciate your standing up for what you believe and hold true. But at the end of the night, I want you to know that I understand how insignificant I (with my useless money) am.

I don't know you, and you probably wouldn't let me anyways.
So here's to being unfriends.
Now we know each other.
"Have a good night."
Aiyo I lay spells like my ***** Marley bars hardly ever weak once a master speak fools lose peak
Once I reach the pinnacle I a miracle flows so subliminal smooth criminal like Mike say I'm wrong? When ya know **** well I'm right fly as kite takin' heavens heights entice fright
See my careers excite an enemies fight so none can't shake me or break me cold with the cannons meaner than banner incredible with the hulk once I get a whiff of green mash things turn em into death siblings earned ya angel wings afterworld sings
Welcome to another phase where you see my name for days huh quoted in ****** like a scriptures snapped on ya memory picture so ya won't forget tha
Coldest brother to hold the microphone raised outta my coffin throne came from King Tuts Mother's Gut so what?
The **** ya wanna do I'll battle you and ya crew get you gassed like a Jew nuttier than a cashew got more trade offs than Vincent Askew bash you til ya face turn midnight blue still holding on strong spark up the **** mind goes on feel my flowin' marathon with no breaks spikin' heart rates with my rhythmic earthquakes it's a chaos in the make uhh..

Once inhale my power I'll devour like Rogue I'll shower ya brain til ya completely drained tougher than a coffee stains it's Yosef increasing the **** pains worse than mid aged ******* migraine sinister with the Cain as long as I'm able broke the sable of the cables that try to label me in this stupid society but my pyschology of ology to powerful g so some how they gotta bow to the uncrowned child destiny reachin' for the status of a King emeritus bars is golden touch makin' clutch
Like Horry critics bore me **** other rappers stories who can't out soar me?
Once I spread my vicious mentality over a beat a grit with telekinesis wit the hardest to spit in the pit my flows kin to a tsunami  wet hoes punnani shinnin' like liverachi carbon copies try to lock me but can't see me at the t-o-p
Top of the pyramid ya dig pop wigs like corks to wine bottles guns half throttle tryna sell ya out like lotto rowdy as Rallo Soo many wanna follow
The leader might become Ebenezer for past in the present but no futures
Ghost from other realms comin' to boost ya
Energy time for you exit the physical plantation off into a Black nation victimized of a Black Jason no times to be wastin' foes blood tastin'
Even in the afterlife I'll still be chasin' ya soul til it's becomes a mural painting
I'm a stand on top, while I'm at the bottom of the rock, my dock,
Of the bay, yo what they say, what they say, I'm a spit it like Otis,
Driving in a Lotus, yosef dont loose focus, magic ****, hocus pocus,
Who could out loc us, I'm Frank Lucas blaze my soul to the buddha,
Getting mad Goudda, that's cheese so just relax and breath,
So you can recieve, the deadly intrigue, empresses I breed,
Check the sights of my seeds, even could be felt in the afterlife needs,
My babies, it's so crazy, I'm off the head like JFK or MLK,
Wait excuse me for that say, mercy mercy mercy, Lord just dont curse me,
I know the hearses around me, sharks leeching for me,
But ain't blood to see, in the seas, I lay more rhymes than the trees,
To leaves, on the branches, sticking to my membrane, so insane,
Go against the grain, black Caesar, bruise a chick, cuz I'm a pleaser,
Ghost as Ebenezer, after im done, then I'm a leave her, leave her,
Make her a believer, its G O D status legendary, take sin to my cemetery,
It's all gravy, this for my lady, chicana loca baby let's cha cha,
Standin like the Godfather, haters kiss my rings, while I make a sting,
Selling y'all careers, while my money soak up ya tears, no fear,
I'm living by, how when I'm the pie, fools chasing crumbs only left to die,
Grimy source, mixtape corpse, but watch me bring back a life source,
Of course, I'm chilling in Belize low breeze, wife beater and my khakis,
No longer chasing keys, I got the master key, to unleash all of misery,
Company, cops cant even touch me, I'm free like Cosby, tried to rob me,
Causing I called dibs on NBC, black man crucified for the industry,
Shady me, I'm just another bear, stingy with the honey, word to the Commies,
Groucho Marx personality, so why yall cats tryna battle me,
I'll leave ya thoughts on E, that's empty that means bullets shooting freely,
Deliver like Mr McFeely, in ya neighborhood and there I stood,
Holding my black wood, cigarillo I hold so thoro, haters still gotta borrow,
Just to make it glow, yo I spit it from the soul, dig the divine vessels,
Yall taking steroids, but still got no muscle, trust I could out touch,
Any ******* on the beat, I could **** a beat, and not get charged,
On a repeat, thats double jeopardy bombarded ya legacy,
I'm a mic barbarian, following the gusto of wind, theres war up again, again,
time for me to position,
Catch Kyle listening, tell me when to snipe within, my range it's so strange,
How muthafuckas use ya name, but barely know ya name,
I could light a flame, of a frame without proper aim, danger man,
Mystical with the principle, I draw thoughts from the spiritual, homicidal,
Cant escape the visual, cover the issue, break bread from here to Brussells,
Fools I slide like Byron Russell,  watch for the MJ when I take the game away,
Its blood on the horn, watch for the thorn, circling in the eye of storm,
I walk straight, amongst the rap turbulence true artist, signed independent,
See the distance, got em breaking see em shaking, got em baking,
Ya bodies oven, 380 degrees which means, you caught the germs, of the deaths sneeze, please believe,
I'm climb to top like Clark, Expedition see these haters whispering,
Mumbling cuz they know I be crumbling, iron micz, blow like dynamite,
Beirut up on ya sight, it's like that, so be ready to fight for a might,
I battled shogun, with hoochie nuns, drink crown, and chew bubblegum,
I'm on a different drum, follow the voices that hum, slain a kingdom,
See the outcome, theres too many laying in the battlefield, best fights I've held, without raising my shield,
Yeah and that's real, 48 laws of original power, minds I devour,
A lion airing out these cowards, I draw more critics Stern like Howard,


P
Wk kortas Nov 2017
My admonition to my erstwhile business partner,
Delivered in stentorian tones,
Augmented by gnarled, bony finger
And a cacophony of implements of imprisonment,
Was, in truth, primarily theatrical in nature.
Indeed, what leviathan of finance, what learned philosopher,
What nimble-minded barrister or incumbent of a bishopric
Can say precisely at what point
Mankind begins and his commerce ends?
If I was not a wise steward of the currency,
If I did not act in such a manner
To assure a strong and stable rate of return for the honest investor,
Instead letting pound and penny fluctuate
Like waves on the great open Atlantic in a November maelstrom,
Then how many, great and small,
Would be washed away, lemming-like,
By the great tide of fiscal panic?

Perhaps the rationale for my caution to the good Ebenezer
Can be called into question, but none can doubt its effect;
His deeds were lauded, celebrated in story and song,
Although whether that reflected a true change of heart
Or simply the speculative seeking of indulgences
Was never subject to any degree of scrutiny;
Yet I (who, to be fair, played more than a trifling part
In his reclamation and illumination)
Remain fully encumbered
With a hodgepodge of iron and ignominy
For no other reason than a minor disparity in our timing,
That minute degree of light which divides white from gray,
And, as such, I can do no more than ruefully note
How problematic is this business of rehabilitation
Yo I get a high off of cuban cigars glisten my thoughts like nightly stars faces get scarred
Leave a  carve of my barbed wire to my malice desire to the set the game on fire
Burn through the industry **** all theses wannabes rappin' itty bitty
Button their mouths shut like Hello Kitty I pity fools
Who don't know the rules shed bullets through ya wools
Of ya head every particle bred from my led
We soul survivors watch me revive tha
Towers of Babel climbin' ladders to heaven on a stagger
Awaiting my throne I see the black faces of ancient Rome shined in gold and chrome
I'm Solomon's own written in the forbidden tomes
Of the Bible it's survival of the fittest the wittest leave a kitten wet stuff their minds with a Kotex of my rhymes that flex
Like bumps under cold pressure rhyme'll stretch ya triumph like D Trump makin' a runaway leave presses with nothing to say as I pave my way
Into the golden arch not Mickey D's
I'm sittin' at the purgatory guarded by three headed dogs breathin' in smogs
Stiffenin' souls like a wooden log suckas jog
Once the see my presence magnetize souls with no hesitance
Hang with cons who broke vagabonds violence upbringing with the Don
Italy mobsters quick to squabble ya hang ya body in a freezer til ya frozen
Invoke the ghost of Ebenezer please believe the
Stories shared for legacy to better me see me
I be a ***** from the fifth dimenison raising tensions
Til necks pop like chickens with no head tops
Keep my blunts wrapped like shoes laces scattered ya skull til ya the see black face

My rhymes periglacial slash through foes ****** leavin' corrupted maxillofacial stay laced with the coco
Til my nose blow out nothing but deadly keys makin' monopolies at ease see my desert ease
Could make the devil freeze with the beautiful ephipanies laid though my flow cinematography ain't no fictions here G
My pedigrees been deadly since the age of three
First sips of Hennessy pictured a glare of my enemies stories of me biblically
Born a David killin' Goliath's society defiant
Knock down the orders in the cornered borders
Of the Jesuit I'm the black Pope
Elope to the celestials gods that rope
My mind hanging on to the highs of the ****
Better yet the marijuana sneaky as an anaconda
Once I tighten cells begin biting
Fighting tryna stay alive like Bee Gees
Fiendin' for my lost dynasties kin to Nefertiti since I ****** on *******
As a baby I got a taste of the universe thoughts deeper than a hearse words hurts exciting flirts beating all perks through my vengeful works
My alias an archangel leave the game triangled Titan mentality dribble like Cousy so you might loose me?
Sick with the tracks axe minds like Moses to the red sea  knockin' down Rome legacy
Back on top like the greatest plot dimensions traveler like Bishop
Capitalizin' land plots I be the Black Wienshaupt
Move to a faster blade, swift ears, catch the musical, serenades,
It's like dollar stand lemonades, prices laid, we being played,
Amongst the *****, of confusion enrolled, out the institution,
So many using, the youths mind for their, own boosting,
Soft society, eyeing me, but what about the, forged legacy,
The boomers, setting the degrees then, blame the economy,
Millenials and Gen Z, but I see the pies, of piece, cold release,
Shots of fire, see the flash of a Messiah, am I reaching higher,
My conscious desires, the better things in life, void the strife,
They say, I was born with three strikes, slash like nikes,
Take my bike, every where I go, to take a look, at the globe,
Sun, looking like a fiery disco, as slow sip, the mojito,
Feel the stings in my mojo, soon to be in slow, mo let the cycle,
Break every, evil scenario, ice cream seen, a blind man cling,
Onto the sights, of happiness, and there I planted, fist, so crisp,
It's hard to break, a wishlist, drink malt liquor, til I ****,
Out the verses, viva la worses, bella bella nutella, rock modellas,
Helter skelter, put on the face of map, bold words all caps,
See victory collapse, thought the world, was gonna relapse,
Perhaps, I'm just in my own destiny, the pains, dreading me,
Carefully, watch the swiss watch, ticks n tocks, see the stocks,
Of heartbeats, getting ready to drop, corona, still at the top,
Never ending, folks pretending, Dean Koontz, gave ya an incision,
Brains is lynching, folks claiming they, players but benching,
Stings, of the golden bronze, honey blondes, sitting under cons,
Rebel X, my rolex, I thought the world, was involved round ***,
Mic check, see what's next, too many folks, guilted plex,
It's too much, stress , to be going round, around downtown,
With julie, yeah she's a cutie, babygirl, knows the duty,
Cant keep a chick, if she's unruly, sounds of the toolie,
Streets of rage, so many feelings in a cage, outrage, crazed,
By the medias, black propaganda, take a deep, gander,
Amongst, the seas of chaos, squids leeching, a coin toss,
Equals rights, ain't nothing a but a plight, to ****, civil rights,
Man down, stand down, hold my *****, with Ebenezer crown,
Six feet in the ground, there I lays, keep my legacy, in stays,
Twenty guns, salute with the liquor to finish,the final scoop,
Rejoicing, with the demons and angels, in every angle,
Of light, to darkness heights, saw Michael and Raphael,
Holding chariots of hell, see how the earth fail, ahhhhhh hell,
There I stare, with a cigar lit, waiting at the gates, of jail,
Am I still alive, even in the perdition, or is just another fairytale,
Babatunde Raimi May 2020
You came, saw and conquered
I'll tell your story to the world
One of our greatest Ambassador
How did you even survive?
While putting Nigeria on the world map?
This is the story the Ajala, The Globetrotter

Life in itself is a journey
At one time in our soujourn
We have been caught by your bug
I'm sorry if you are of the indomie generation
We all, at some point have cauht it
The Ajalabug, amplied by Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey

Mashood Olabisi Ajala
Rest well with your ancestors
We have not stopped our "Ajala"
That makes you larger than life
Evergreen in our mind and soul
But "Sha", you can pedal for Africa
40 countries, 9 months, 30,000 miles
Give it up to a man of the people

In your soujourn you met principalities and powers
Men and women of timber and iroko
Penned great memoirs first hand
You browsed different inter-continental softwares
And deposited droplets of yourself
And insignia of a world citizen
Then landed "White Witch Doctor" by Fox
All, for the love of Ajala

Did you actually meant to end it
When you mounted that 80 footed mast?
Faraway in God's own country
Or was it just a ruse; "a lamber?"
Thank God you were deported to England
Not to your nation, so rich, so poor
That you may continue your escapades
And your name linger forever

As a man of ink and paper
You inspired my generation
Hence I wanted to appreciate you specially
Your feat, none in this generation has surpassed
Lest they gas out before they start out
You were even imprisoned
In faraway whiteman's land
But it never supressed your zest
Today and forever, "Ajala still travels all over the world"
Wait, aren't we all "Ajala?"
KENNETH LEONG Oct 2018
The old man,
like Ebenezer Scrooge,
lives alone in a drafty old house.
But his house, unlike Scrooge’s,
is stocked with books.
Hundreds of them,
on all kinds of subjects--
philosophy, science,
history, religion,
also art and poetry.
He acquired them,
for a pittance.
through used book sales.
A dollar, two dollars each.
Books published decades ago.
Products from a different era.
Pages yellowed,
weather-worn,
but nicely bound
and scented with soul.
Some with dedications.
Perhaps a gift from one lover to another.
Others with handwritten notes
written at the margins.
Records of the previous owner’s
remarks, questions and pondering.
What does he see in them?
Don't they belong to the junk pile?
Perhaps he knows
that on a cold winter night,
these books will serve
as his only companions.
Books other people discard,
are his protection
against old age and loneliness.
He acquires them,
not for knowledge,
but for warmth.
They are his substitute
for the lost human touch.
They are his sustenance.
Break out the chapstick, before I kiss, the second pair, of my girls lips,
Freaky is I, caress slowly then **** on her inner thighs, yeah I'm sly guy,
Why lie, let's keep it real for the lyrical ties, I keep ya eyes, baked to a fry,
I get a love jones, in my bones, reigning back on top of, hip hops throne,
Mack more than Jerome, lets get it on, til I see a crack in the horizon,
Moonshine glares, cold heart from these bears, witnesses Genesis,
Turned into exodus, folks still scented off the bloods mist, hard to digest,
Only stay true to the realist, true lyricist, take ya best shots at me, only to miss,






Came off of my cloud, as I cover love over the hate shroud, talk loud,
Without saying nothing, lips is button, once a god, breaks into something,
What you holding, critics folding, tryna shuffle life to an everyday molding,
Slash ya third eye, once I line up in the I, formation, begins a cremation,
Assassination day, prepare for doomsday, from the Sunday to Sunday,
We play with darts, that hits like gun plays, voluminous slays, with no delays,
****** war games, listen to what these critics say, I got my soul, with no price to pay,
I see many souls up on layaway, tryna chase away dreams, for optical themes,
Back in the days, we use to shout cream, the more the money, the more to intervene,
Too much wisdom,so I had to redeem,
Took from Solomons rings, silver scrolls and portals, of an immortal shadows opening,
Destined to ring, Liberty bells but the fat lady can't even sing, see angels to demons bring,
Chaos amongst the human being, universe sight seeing, who do you believe in,
Still teething, on the flavors of the space age  family, twilight I'm just a baby,
To the mice galaxies, Azreal the death angel, warned me, my time is infinite,
I won't see death like Elijah, consumed by the heavenly fire, whirlwind hitting like pliers,
What about the higher,
Deeply resonate with the Messiah, got the torch to the ****, to fly right buy ya,
The Christ slayers, laying with the undertaker's, they taken under,
Sounds of thunder, darkness blooms, now feel the wraths of the Gods, under,
Can't stop, now you stuck in the blunder, on the sevens seas I wonder,
How many scabs on the ram?, How many playing the sacrificial lambs? ,
Heavy weighs the crown, on those who, get drowned, I never seen forth down,
Sho nuff, up in yo town, the villain master, that cause much disaster,
Plastered like I'm drunk, rap thesis like Van Gogh, midnight summer pieces,
I can move, immovable forces, bring life to over a billion corpses,
Got the light from Jesus, suffered from so much, pain through amnesia,
I'm not hear to please ya, I stick to the script, limited life of an Ebenezer,
Nobody to visit me, throw in my tombs, and put the rocks over, to comfort me,
Three days later, I'm feeling greater, angels rolled stones, I'm here to cater,
Satellite ya mind, works em everytime, channel to a higher, state of mind,
(if alive...though way up in years,
the cherished divine endearing gent,
would nonetheless captivate ears
of all colors with hearty, gracious cheers,
yet though long since gone to dust,
his posthumous belated birthday still registers blares.)

Two score and eleven years ago come
April fourth, two thousand nineteen
father of civil rights movement the,
Reverend Martin Luther King Junior honored
as benevolent demigod figure to the

oppressed African American population
without whose bold risks and subsequent
assassination April fourth
ninety sixty eight at the hands of a crazed
gunman (James Earl Ray),  

wrought empowerment advancing dreams
of slaves recent descendents
allowing, enabling and providing
once attainable aspirations
only bestowed upon the self anointed

masters and early settlers
of the virginal North
American contiguous land mass
yet…generations prior to this
prestigious public personality

Abolitionists pitted themselves against
the institution of slavery
incrementally raising awareness
per the abomination
forced servitude incurred

on those shackled
thus setting the stage for this
grandson of A.D. Williams,
a rural parsonage, who
ministered spiritual support

for the small congregation
(initially only thirteen members)
comprising attendants at Ebenezer Baptist
Church in Atlanta Georgia
setting precedent for freedom

(at risk of life and limb)
against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grand parents
whose objection to racial segregation based

on an affront to the will of God
whereby the young
whip smart precocious lad,
(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise,

when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned eminent King
came under the influence

of theologian Reinhold
Niebuhr, a classmate
of his father's at Morehouse College
who became a mentor
by exposing his protégée

to liberal views of theology
planting the seeds of ardent
activism that gave rise to
The Southern Christian
Leadership Conference (SCLC)

an initial platform hoisting his status as
thee most articulate orator
spelling binding the listeners
with his soaring metaphors
about his emphatic march

to a promised land
where all men/women
could be brothers/sisters
and no person will be judged
by the color of his/her skin
raising morale of many dirt poor ebony
(and lighter skin toned) masses
to feel a glimmer of hope!
Born five score minus seven years ago
minus attaining age of centenarian
father of civil rights movement,
the revered Martin Luther King Junior
honored as benevolent demigod figure
to the oppressed African American population

without whose bold risks
and subsequent brutal assassination April fourth
ninety sixty eight at the hands
of a crazed gunman (James Earl Ray),
whereby all the King's men
and all the King's horses...,

still aghast at tragic event
while reverberations felt forty two years later,
where embedded white privilege
begets continued racial strife
analogous to uncorked raging tempest
saddling people of color to human *******

(no matter ponying up excellent equestrians),
nevertheless wrought empowerment
advancing cherished dreams
of slaves recent descendents
allowing, enabling and providing
once attainable aspirations
only bestowed upon

the self anointed masters and early settlers of
the virginal North American contiguous land mass
yet…generations prior
to this prestigious public personality
Abolitionists pitted themselves
against the institution of slavery

incrementally raising awareness
regarding the abomination
forced servitude incurred on those shackled
thus setting the stage
for this grandson of A.D. Williams
a rural parsonage,

who ministered spiritual support
for the small congregation
(initially only thirteen members)
comprising attendants at
Ebenezer Baptist church in Atlanta Georgia
setting precedent for freedom

(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,

(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned

eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology

planting the seeds of ardent activism
that gave rise to
The Southern Christian
Leadership Conference (SCLC),
an initial platform
allowing, enabling and providing acclaim

hoisted up by petard
invariably only heightened
(his) posthumous status
as thee most articulate orator
spelling binding the listeners
with his metaphors about his emphatic march

to a promised land where all
men/women could be brothers/sisters
and no person will be judged
by the color of his/her skin
raising morale of many dirt poor
ebony masses to feel a glimmer of hope.
Bo Tansky Nov 2018
I’m a vindictive *****
And I know it
Revengeful, self-referential
Must I settle each perceived injury
Not done to me
Why can’t I let it go
I know it’s not personal
Maybe this is terminal
Till death do us part
Married to my Swinehart
But I’ll be ******
Whenever I get the chance
I’ll settle the score
At a glance
If my confessional is not very professional
If this is the spiritual path
Must have taken a wrong turn
Into a wrath bath
Bathed in bloodbath
My embers stoked
I go up in smoke
Why do I spew venom
Wrong way to heaven
This way to hell
Do tell
Of my own making
No use faking
I want to be in awareness
Then my demon mind takes command
And Demands
Vengeance.
Yes, I fancy myself some evolved person
While I’m cursing the driver
That just cut me off
I try to be like Eckert Tolle
Instead, I’m Ebenezer Scrooge
**** I thought I left it all behind
Said whatever came to mind
No matter how unkind
What is wrong with me
What ******* road am I on
I’m sure I’m the princess I imagined myself to be
Must in a parallel reality that I see
Or my insane mind sabotaging me
I tried blaming it on my parents for hundreds of years
Had the backing of my siblings
They often brought to tears
Nothing like a gang mentality
To bolster your insanity
That didn’t work
When I realized
I was the only ****
I choose the whole ******* thing
What was I thinking
Totally lost on a one way
Going the wrong way
I’m sure I’ll see the light soon
But it won’t be white light
Right light
Red light instead
Sirens of insanity
Barons of humanity
Come to right the wrong
While my slightly out of tune song
Blares obliviously
Unconsciously
Along.
When will the anger be gone?
Eventually vices will witness me crow king
cough'n affliction caw hearse courtesy
smok'n since me yay high,
hence appellation (mountain) wheezer
natural set of adult teeth (rotten to the core)  
easily plucked out courtesy tweezer,
this har nonestablishmentarian,
never prevaricator nor crowd pleaser,

whose barreled chest attests quantity
maximum grog, which equals capacity of keezer,
or analogous to quaffing
amount stout beer downed by yours truly
(rough estimation by dickens)
equivalent to hinted wealth of Ebenezer
Scrooge, who could hypothetically
purchase abundant amount of ale.

Above fabrication nonsense yay
figurative hook to grab attention my way
ain't one applicable factual word written,
cuz I take poetic license
with no intended off fence touché
harmless figurative foil
as usual trademark innocent word play
geezer who sports brown golden locks
employs good humor as keyway
to unlock mine mindscape entranceway.

After posting poem comb what may,
drink'n like vichyssoise floundering fiend,
I reluctantly brush aside
male pattern baldness without dismay,
cuz patrilineal genetic trait
shows no happy shiny pate
rather paternal ancestry
somewhat thick with strands
turning sixty plus shades of gray.

The following recounts true account
one hundred purse cent
actual bonafide certifiable event
attested to courtesy one germane gent
badinage represents laughable intent
as he deeply inhales cigarette brand Kent.

Though no physician,
this aging baby boomer
former long haired pencil necked geek
absolutely, intuitively, erroneously, and
unequivocally sensed hair loss (mine),
at first a speculative rumor
not simply rooted in my (ahem) head,
no matter a minimalist groomer

nevertheless, thinning follicles,
upon dawning realization, sans medical
sought relief thru good humor,
though within this balding cerebral noggin
became repulsive as if my scalp
pulled pate rendered as a tumor.

Thus an unexpectedly present surprise
when in private consultation in the guise
as out patient client (early afternoon
December 19th, 2018),
where I did fraternize
and kibitz with the medical assistant

(old enough to be my...sister),
aye did exercise
mild mannered mien mean, aye do patronize
before doctor Rudolf (dearly
reigned) Roth, a practicing
Dermatologist told me no lies

his instant karma knowledge - mainly his
thirty seven years expertise
sought to excise
a prominent non cancerous mole approximately
centered middle of back
a small patch of skin,

he needed to anesthetize
nonetheless, a reassuring persona,
yours truly did lionize
(not merely, cuz
he received a five star rating,
specialist under auspices

of Penn, Medicine)
in Radnor Pennsylvania),
his modest calm did neutralize
any uneasiness, as did his pronounced
humility earn kudos to idolize
such rarely present gentility, and

unwitting capacity did harmonize,
and maximize significance to me,
asper my thinning limp
hair logically rationalize
identified underactive thyroid gland

(hypothyroidism) tubby,
which didst legitimize
no hair brained rooted concern,
hence...less reason to catastrophize',
which for no reason I
wanted to mildly emphasize,
hence choice to apostrophize...
It was old Ebenezer
Who sent me to seize her
And send her to Caesar
Who would ultimately release her
If she would cease her
     Seditious ways.

She refused to comply,
However, and he was forced to apply
Means he came to rely
On over the years that would supply
His demands with positive results,
          and imply
      An agreement worthy of praise.

She fought off his attempts, though,
And refused to acquiesce so,
And remained obstinate in a manner
          thorough
That would've made the American
          colonists glow
In a blushing red from head to toe
      For days and days.

He finally relented
After his garb he rent it
And allowed her passage back to her  
           tenanted
Community where her fame was
           cemented
In the minds of each person there
           who  assented
      To her winning forays.
DElizabeth Feb 27
the sun
kissed me
as the
night's knife,
unsympathetic, honed, & deafeningly-silent,
took me...
took me
to the headstone
like ebenezer
on christmas eve...
i knew what
i was getting myself
into
but i dove in
anyway. . .
Five score minus eight years ago
January eighteenth two thousand twenty one
father of civil rights movement
the revered Martin Luther King Junior honored
as benevolent demigod figure
to the oppressed African American population

without whose bold risks
and subsequent brutal assassination April fourth
ninety sixty eight at the hands
of a crazed gunman (James Earl Ray),
whereby all the King's men
and all the King's horses...,

still aghast at tragic event
while reverberations felt forty two years later,
where embedded white privilege
begets continued racial strife
analogous to uncorked raging tempest
saddling people of color to human *******

(no matter ponying up excellent equestrians),
nevertheless wrought empowerment
advancing cherished dreams
of slaves recent descendents
allowing, enabling and providing
once attainable aspirations
only bestowed upon

the self anointed masters and early settlers of
the virginal North American contiguous land mass
yet…generations prior
to this prestigious public personality
Abolitionists pitted themselves
against the institution of slavery

incrementally raising awareness
regarding the abomination
forced servitude incurred on those shackled
thus setting the stage
for this grandson of A.D. Williams
a rural parsonage,

who ministered spiritual support
for the small congregation
(initially only thirteen members)
comprising attendants at
Ebenezer Baptist church in Atlanta Georgia
setting precedent for freedom

(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,

(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned

eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology

planting the seeds of ardent activism
that gave rise to
The Southern Christian
Leadership Conference (SCLC),
an initial platform
allowing, enabling and providing acclaim

hoisted up by petard
invariably only heightened
(his) posthumous status
as thee most articulate orator
spelling binding the listeners
with his metaphors about his emphatic march

to a promised land where all
men/women could be brothers/sisters
and no person will be judged
by the color of his/her skin
raising morale of many dirt poor
ebony masses to feel a glimmer of hope.
Hard to cope these memoirs of
war
I see the families in pain soar
galore
As my thoughts brush to the shore in the core
Of my brain cells
hard to shake these memories seem like its just a fairytale
Livin' this life ain't nothing but hell as society fails
**** wish they could help my brothers financially
And I can't forget about the sisters either
Feelin' close to the Ebenezer puffin' **** that's a creeper
see visions of the
Grim Reaper
Demons closin in cuz they
leechers
To pain understand I where I done came
From fightin' for political freedom some
Die over suicide or homicide but real soldiers hide
They feelin' in the dark
light a spark
To a candle drinkin' alcohol til I can't handle
My self no more
and it hurts the most
When ya gotta bury someone ya love who's close
Treat my comrades like my own family
some of them made a man out of me feel me??
But either way they destiny was made for that day
**** I wish I could
take it back
A dust rust sizzlin' like the sounds of crack
And it ain't about white or
black
just us veterans under attack
Now I'm livin' in a slump
with a pump
Under my pillow starin' at moonlight through my window
Yeah.....

— The End —