"embassy" poems
On a New Year's Day in Reykjavik
I stood at the very top of that old city,
intending to visit the Cathedral there.
All at once, there it was. And it was in charge.
A gust of wind so strong that it grabbed and
slid me, speeding across several metres of ice,
only to slam, face first, into the broad chest
of a resident British Embassy staffer.
Genially, he smiled down and introduced
himself with gentlemanly aplomb.
No wonder they had an empire. At least for a while.
Oh, that wind! Ever seen snow moving horizontally?
Or felt a hole being drilled, in one ear, almost out the other?
Deep in the ancient countryside, on the way to the sea,
is a lonely valley, held captive by the power of a brutal
Gigantic troll. There, this wind has its greatest rival.
Even if you can't see them, just tell me you don't feel them...
In Reykholt now, that bullying wind buffets a cozy house,
but to no avail, for angels watch over a newborn baby girl.
Her mother, just a girl when we first met,
now sings tenderly to her own new daughter.
Both are princesses of this beautiful island country.
Finding kindness, that tough old wind has sent
Halldora's lullaby across the open ocean,
over wide blue skies, and onto this snowy prairie
where I hear it and cradle it softly, and so gently, to my heart.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
Baby I've got a six-pack
of Coke
We're gonna have a good night
Goodnight
Don't you think that we should
give up
Don't you think that we should
start a fight
I was born and raised
on methane
I was always taught
to never profane
Green and yellow grass
were my best friends
I was always taught
to make amends
All I've ever been
is full of ****
and I wear it proudly
with a grin
All I've ever done
is plug myself
and I wear it proudly
on my chin
You told me you could do a back flip
then ran away when I asked your name
I've never felt as sad as that day
I took a course on lust and relay
I took some pills that looked like diamonds
Readied myself for a life of staring
How could I be so bold and daring
Guilty of sin before preparing
You know, I should at least TRY to take over the world
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY
YOU SEE MY FAMILY WERE A GOOD CAMPING FAMILY
AND WE HAD THIS BIG ORANJE TENT, WHERE THE
FAMILY BROUGHT TO CAMPING GROUNDS, TO
ENJOY WEEKEND CAMPING, I REMEMBER CAMPING
EVERY WHERE AROUND NSW AND THE ACT
AND AS A WAY OF EXCAPING THE NORMAL LIVES
ME AND MY BROTHER PUT THE TENT UP IN THE BACKYARD
AND HAD OUR OWN CAMPING GROUND, AND I HAVE
SO MANY GREAT MOMENTS, LIKE NEW YEARS EVE PARTIES WITH LYLE
AND YEAH, I WAS LIKE A NORMAL TEENAGER, WITH SLEEPOVERS IN THE TENT
AND HAVING AN ESKY OF DRINK AND SAUSAGES AND OTHER THINGS LIKE
CHIPS AND I GOT SOME GREAT PHOTOS ME AND LYLE ARE HAVING A GREAT
PARTY FOR NEW YEARS EVE, WE CELEBRATED WITH POISON AND DEF LEOPARD
AND LYLE BOUGHT AIR SUPPLY, OH MY GODFATHER, I HATE THAT BAND
I REMEMBER WHEN ME AND MY BROTHER WENT IN THE TENT, WE WATCHED TV
AND WE TALKED FOR HOURS LIKE ME AND LYLE, WE HAD A HEAP OF ****** FUN
YA SEE I REMEMBER LYLE SAID HE WASN’T SCARED OF THE OLD BOOGIE WOMAN
AND I AM NOT SCARED OF THE OLD BOOGIE WOMAN EITHER
AND MY BROTHER LOVED TO JOKE AROUND WITH US
YA SEE, LYLE WAS ENJOYING PUTTING THE TENT UP
AND WE BOTH HAD OUR STEREOS, AND WE PLAYED GREAT TOP 49 HITS OF THAT ERA
YOU SEE, MY DAD WAS A GREAT CAMPER AND BUSHWALKER, AND BUDDHA’S SPIRIT
MADE ME INHERIT DAD’S ADVENTURE BLOOD, BECAUSE, OF MY LAST 2 HUMAN LIVES
BEING GREAME THORNE, AND PATRICK DUNBAR, BOTH KILLED AT 8
AND BUDDHA MADE ME AN ALLAN, TO KEEP ME SAFE
BUT I WAS A KEEN BACKYARD CAMPER, COOKING ON GAS BBQS
AND EATING CHIPS, AND HEAPS OF CHOCOLATES, AND ME AND LYLE BOTH WATCHED THE CRICKET
ON THE TELEVISION IN THE TENT AND NEW YEARS EVE, WE WATCHED THE GREAT
BICENTENNIAL NEW YEARS EVE CONCERT IN 1987, ME AND LYLE HAD FUN DOING THIS AS
WELL AS WATCH GREAT MOVIES ON THE VHS RECORDER,
BUT THAT ALL ENDED, WE RAGED A BIG PARTY IN THE TENT, WITH MUSIC AND GREAT FOOD
I CAN’T REALLY HAVE *** I AM NOT THE *** TYPE, I TALK ABOUT ***** DONORS
BUT ONE THING I WAS GOOD AT, WAS TALKING, WITH LYLE, PATRICK MY BROTHER, SCOTT,
AND MANY MORE, AND THE BIG ORANGE TENT WAS FINALLY BOUGHT BY A FAMILY
I THOUGHT I SAW IT AT THE ABORIGINAL TENT EMBASSY, IT COULD’VE BEEN
IT LOOKED LIKE IT, AND IT’S GOOD THAT, IF IT IS, THAT POOR PEOPLE WITHOUT A HOME
ARE ENJOYING THIS TENT AS A HOME
GREAT ALLAN FAMILY CAMPING OVER
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Still today
Danang. Saigon.Tet.
Mi Lai. ** Chi min trail.
All and more on reverb
The unwinable in black body bags.
Dam.
Just like Cronkite's musdtache goimg on and on
Drafted into the wood chipper
The buzz saw. for what.
Then the embassy buggie.
Choppers listing into the sea.
Half baked. Blood on ground.
For what.
Visit Vietnam. A travelers paradise. Half price
now with great accomodations.
Cambodia too.for the price of one.
Kamir Red.
How many dead?
For what.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Welcome To Egypt
You want to know what a military dictator ship is?
Checkpoints at every crossing,
police disrespecting the citizens,
guns gripped tightly in the hands of teenagers,
bleached white suits with fake brass stars.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what becomes of fallen empires?
Dusty streets of broken dreams and failed endeavors,
uptight men in loose jellabiyas hawking Chinese made junk,
descendants of kings catering to the whims of ignorant tourist,
and a once pristine river now so ***** it’s dangerous to swim in.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what irony is?
Here denial is a double entendre,
it’s a river and a state of mind,
where the people can’t see they are biting,
the very hand that feeds them.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what it’s really like here?
Well I was just harassed today,
accused by the police of trying to pray,
because in Egypt it is illegal to pray or even meditate,
I had to threaten to call the US Embassy before I was allowed to go on my way.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what the real atrocity is?
The States gives this country over a billion dollars a year,
but the people that really need the money don’t see a single pound,
the money is used to further oppress the people,
and anyone that tries to stand up for their rights is beaten down.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what happened to democracy?
The Muslim Brotherhood won the election,
then the military staged a coup,
kicked out the democratically elected government,
and assassinated anyone that dared to speak the truth.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what the real Egypt is about?
Come witness the horror for yourself,
mothers dying in doorways children eternally crying,
horses beaten to death in 106˚ heat,
then left for dead no burial for the dying.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what equality is here?
What equality woman have to cover everything up,
wearing all black in a torturing heat,
and if I man tries to hold a woman’s hand,
then they both get rounded up by the Moral Police.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know how bad it really is?
People die every day on boats trying to escape,
desperately attempting to flee this god forsaken country,
what a travesty and shame it all is,
how poor this country’s become that was once so wealthy.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know the truth?
The oppression is so bad in Egypt,
that anyone that says anything about that,
can disappear courtesy of the secret police,
seriously it happened to my dear friends dad.
Welcome to Egypt.
You want to know what?
Luckily I am not Egyptian,
so I can escape this country that’s become a prison,
leaving in a few hours and to anyone that’s considering a visit,
I’m leaving behind this welcome warning here that I’ve written.
Welcome to Egypt.
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1 available worldwide 11/11/16
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:35 AM UTC
My name is Rajabu Al Islam, an African Muslim
Born in Africa, Black Muslim not Arabic,
I am now in the solemn city of Mombasa,
Standing on the pinnacle of Tahir Sheikh Towers,
Looking at the land of Likoni and Motonkwe
Beyond the deep blue arm of Indian Ocean,
Behold the Muslim terrorists, lynch fierce terror
On the innocent human beings, in ramshackled church,
They are shooting women and young children,
The pastor at the dais, wielding the Bible,
Also succumbs to a bullet in his ***** capacity,
The church choir master has also dropped dead
And the rest of all humanity in the church
Have no where to take cover from terrorist,
As Moslem terrorist ********* bullets on them,
Poor humanity wail in the agony of death
From the injurious bullets, of AK 47,
Auma Otieno drops dead her son Osinya falling away,
Osinya is not dead, but a slug stuck in his skull,
In glorification of Al shabab the Islamic terror wing,
Baby osinya is young boy of six months,
Without selfish piety of Middle East in chest,
When you shoot him, is it n’t it super terrorism!
To shoot a child of six months in the head
In pursuit of your religious ecstasy?
Who said that Islam is the way of Godliness?
He was a beautiful cheat full of brawnish frivolities,
Islam is total darkness, as its overt organs are ;
Al gaeda, Al shabab and Boko Haram.
I hate Islam for its ***** reasonless ignorance
I hate it with my full passion and my entirety,
Indeed I am prepared to die in stern defense
Of my antipathy for Islam; a piety so uncouth
When I recall, the Twin towers of America,
West Gate of Kenya, American embassy in Kenya,
And the stubborn Boko Haram, that condemned human life
Foolishly in the north of Nigeria to be foul divinity.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Tuesday's wallet brandished its spoils
National Express to Stoke again
to partake in oatcakes and
dreams of smoking Embassy No 6 ****
as tall as bottle kilns.
On Wednesday we will meander
to Trentham Gardens
next to Monkey's World
for a roll of cheese and pickle,
washed down with English Breakfast Tea
and later by the canal's edge
unearth some seasonal pottery.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
you were born in Denver
during a white out blizzard
like all round babes,
you had no clue, what was in store for you
you couldn't have known...
you would be
the last nickel to ***** through
a five-cent coin phone box,
in El Paso, Texas
or that you would sleep
for a year in a piggy bank,
of a boy named Felipe, who would die
of white blood cancer, before
he could spend you
and who would have thought
you would be in the linty pocket
of a serial murderer named Ray, when
he was captured in Santa Fe, a sunny day
on the ancient square, stalking
his next victim
a jailer used you that very night
with a twin of yours he found in
another picked pocket, of a drunk drifter,
to buy a Hershey's bar, from a machine
that would have taken a dime as well
your face began to show the fingered
signs of age by the time the choppers found sky
above the Saigon Embassy, where you had spent
an aching April night in the Ambassador's pants
when you turned a half century, you were tossed
into a gallon jug, e pluribus unum, no more special
than others a third your vintage
I finally met you today, only because chance landed you on
the top of the heap, waiting to be saved from further folly
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Saudia Arabia
Protectors of the Islamic Faith
Is kingdom that’s not safe
Whose behavior makes one chafe
Under MBS it’s anybody’s guess
Who’ll be killed or at best
Locked away in a hotel
Until their wrists and ankles swell
Although the evidence is murky
In a motion that was jerky
At their embassy in Turkey
They killed Jamal Kashoggi
Before he could light a stogie
And chopped his body up
So as not to interrupt
Their plot to cover-up
How about the war in Yemen
That has no predictable ending
Seems to have ‘em hemmed in
And what they cannot hide
Is that it’s clearly genocide
Which the US is complicit in
In the name of King Salman
Look at the weapons that we send
What we can’t ignore
Are their actions we abhor
Which they must answer for
Or is it business as usuall?
Because of our refusal
To make them conform
To accepted norms
Which should set off alarms
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
Ever given an apology
when embarrassment
was your true feeling?
Is there space between them?
Or is one the wrapping paper?
Silverskin on coffeebean.
Parchment.
Ornate half mask on a dancer in all black
Between Pointed nose and chandileier
Same infastructure as churches
Decorated to make others look to god.
Up, with gargoyales and bells
If embarrassment is the root of an apology.
Does it ring?
What time of day?
Embassy of embarrassment is your apology.
It is no secret, it is kevlar.
Harder to break.
If you are never embarrassed.
You cannot be sorry.
pride and abandon
As honest as they are to a man
Who loves to love
Strike offensive on ears set
To red at your past.
Own the honesty like a magic shield.
You will not have the kevlar of apology
If you do not have the embarrassment.
You'll need to fake it.
This takes delicate work.
Convincing the world you are not selfish
When born in america
Is not easy.
Loving your own failure seems proof enough
To learn from mistakes
But intellect.
Is not the opposite of selfishness.
In abundance you carry both as a burden.
People see you as a man, honest.
People see you as a man, who was not honest.
People see you as a man, selfish.
People see you as a man, who would rather be wrong and manic than human.
And people see through sometimes the armor
Of your ********
And magic armor of your smile
Because you talk too much
When all you want is too be heard,
Your biggest weakness is when someone listens.
You are so powerfull when no one hears you.
And you are so seen when you never open your mouth.
But the second you do.
You are ugly.
Underneath the ornate white mask and pointed nose
Without the smooth pleasentries of a nirror for a face.
You are seen a bulbous boiled blemmish.
A red infected wound for an ear.
It hurts to hear their testimony
Wittnessing you when you are without protection.
This is not embarrassment?
You are not embarrassed to be seen an ugly thing?
And no.
It just hurts.
And the pain callouses, making it more ugly.
Until we got to where we are.
Indestructible in all this broken.
Untouchable from all this infection.
Unlovable from all this attention.
A greiving suit of armor
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
I am back yet again
in Tripoli, reading
Arabic street signs and
on an evening look
to find that special fish
restaurant of old.
Al-Jameheriyyah
al-Arabeiyyah is and
has always been for me
the land of surprises in
this storied life.
Already, I have been
kidnapped into a long
adventure, taking me across
the Sahara into the rarest
of lands, filled with ponds
and fertile green beauty!
Today, I accompany
contacts from the fishing
fleet into the port.
On the far side of which,
below the British Embassy
is an old black submarine!?
My main contact is
handing me on board a
vessel, when he ages
slack and shakes.
Then, I am pulled back
to be led away.
Hot and held firmly,
we don't waste words.
My jacketed guards walk me
briskly into the harbour,
towards a squat building.
Each alert and thinking - I,
that I'm in the arms of the
Libyan Secret Police,
as each jacket conceals
my confirmation!
On entering their blockhouse,
I am led and followed up the
stairs to confront a facing cell,
wallpapered entirely in
the heavy folding scissor-ed
steel closure of the Souq,
jewelled in locks!
The first jacket stoops to unlock
my cage. Likely, sharing my confidence
that once in, I'm here to stay - I
drift slightly left. Thence, to roll
left, behind and around a second jacket,
to swiftly enter the office to my
rear. A man stands, surprised!
Shaking hands, I greet him warmly.
I am asked to take a seat and
the audience at the door
to give explanation!
I am now the honoured guest
and have no intention of
leaving my seat! Afraid,
the chairman and his shocked
staff are invited also. Four
hours later my past involvement
in supplying the Libyan Tunisian
Fishing Cooperative with eighty
eight marine propulsion engines
is confirmed.
I leave them last, as
one might part from friends.
.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 11:54 AM UTC
Followers of Sfera would be glad to know that the Spanish fashion brand recently launched its Fall-Winter 2016 collection at its flagship store in SM Makati.
The event, held in partnership with the Spanish Chamber of Commerce in the Philippines (La Camara Manila), had the local Spanish community and members of the diplomatic corps among the guests.
They were treated to a fabulous showcase of the collection, along with cocktails and an exciting shopping experience.
In attendance were Maria Jose Carrasco, wife of Spanish Ambassador Luis Antonio Calvo, Pedro Pascual of the Commercial Office of the Embassy of Spain, Alfredo Roca, vice president external of La Camara Manila.
Sfera, part of Madrid’s renowned El Corte Ingles Group of Companies, opened its first store in Asia in the Philippines in 2014, on the second floor of The SM Store Makati. In 2015, it opened more branches—on the second level of Building B in SM Megamall, and on the upper ground floor of SM Seaside City Cebu.
September 2016 saw its first department store corner at The SM Store in Aura Premier.
This premium fast-fashion brand offers men’s and women’s wear, and is known for its ability to stay on-trend every season while maintaining good-quality clothing and affordability.
From SM, heading to the opposite side of town, we were treated to a gastronomic symphony at one of our favorite restaurants, Salvatore Cuomo.
The six-course dinner, prepared by chef Salvatore Cuomo himself, served as a sneak peek of his new dishes on the menu.
The Italian culinary titan has narrowed the boundaries between innovation and fine taste. The meal was a roller-coaster of dynamic flavors and textures—an array of small bites paired with light aperitif for starters, washed down with Italian and French medium-bodied red and white wines.
In true Salvatore Cuomo fashion, the ingredients used in the entire dinner were thoughtfully selected and sourced from the best producers in Europe and Asia.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
The scents
the smokes
the spices that singe to perfection
I see my reflexion
A tossing ocean of blues and greens
the glidings of an embassy
unbeknownst to the bright world
the sea. I see my ocean
the sands approach and
island girl climbs
from shimmering lights
bright as sun reflexions
off the water.
Long tresses with thistle
and grasses
she passes the palms
Bare ankles soft pedals
Of padded feet on sand and stone
Roam
Just enough and not too much
time and quiet and space and the roar of surrounding
Survive the fruits of
strength and the climb
the herbs
the healing
scents
smokes.
the spices.
Island
companions
and treetop
roofrock
sounds
of night
healing leaves
grasses
and herbs.
Sweet drips
of fruits
that uncurl
in prying
palms.
Seeded beauties
with beads
of sunset
pearls.
Shells of milky
rainbow and
clashing
slate
and the
kick back
fire sky
night side
beats.
The beats
of
roaming clouds.
En-route to
the buttermilk
moon.
Purple
Arabia of
the Horizon.
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
They walk—no, more likely, they saunter,
Embassy functionaries, associate profs at G-Dub,
A smorgasbord of polka dots and vitae,
Leopard-print and Linkedin pages,
Sufficent and necessary in their presents and futures.
I occupy a bench in my own shambling manner,
Denim-clad most days,
Perhaps affecting a less humble khaki
If I am feeling particularly grandiloquent,
Redeployed here from more rough-and-tumble of more avenues,
Among the bar-and-concrete hosteled llamas and coyotes
(Probably closer kin, if one is being honest)
Simply an ornamental thing, overgrown garden gnome
Or bowdlerized lawn jockey, unobtrusive and unnoticed
By those who would coo at the macaos and mandarin ducks
Or shudder at the offal left uneaten by black bears and maned wolves.
And so such days proceed, from my convenience-store coffee arrival
To such time that something approximating dinner
Must be conjured or cadged from somewhere,
My thoughts tend to stray not to the lionesses
Nor sleek Catwoman-esque jaguars,
But to the unpretentious turkey vultures of the fields of my youth,
Circling warily, inexorably in threes and fours above
And I know there is neither ennobling nor annihilation to find here,
No outcome but to simply await.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:36 AM UTC
I've baptized myself in you,
You've not just freed my body but the deepest cry
My soul could ever muster.
Thus creating an embassy of revolution.
In you, this holy sanctuary.
I felt the chill of water overlapping my face.
Born anew in the spirit.
Becoming a total embodiment of "US"
Wandering in the current of everlasting bliss.
Acquiring a part of you, a part of me.
Wisdom of the most high bestowed upon "US"
Granting logic outside of ourselves.
Understanding that love has a multitude of different level.
The inner child now mature in the manifestation of calm.
Learning that not every action requires a reaction.
But instead
Listening to the growth of everlasting stillness.
Laying flat in it's natural state.
No longer formed in the disturbance of it's ripple.
In a true understanding that everything external has depth
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
Closing time.
Cold marble steps, brisk evening air.
Small cappuccinos,
hot chocolate with cream you didn't ask for.
The Canadian Embassy
casting glittering lights across the fountain waters.
Faint indigo sky,
laughing about the Renaissance,
falling asleep on the Bakerloo.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy;
Until life’s composition be recured
By those swift messengers returned from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me.
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.
1.1k
All of the shacks and houses and double
fronted mansions
lie in the vicinity
of a town no-one’s really
heard of which in turn lies
there because of the shacks and houses
and double fronted mansions.
Neither would exist without the other
and nothing would happen without them,
the people are insignificant... there’s no politician
no diplomat or embassy worker here,
there’s no world leading bio-chemist or
any line of royalty behind the slats of wood
or the red brick and bay window fronts.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
fall out boy is always
in season
rain or shine
sweat or tears
i honestly get
tired of having
problems but
doesn't everyone?
i'm escaping
stumbling into some
false reality on the other
side of my mind's eye
sometimes i get to thinking
about alcohol and
cigarettes and i get scared
for who i'll turn into someday
and sometimes
when i can't sleep i play
what a catch donnie
on repeat until i cry
"said i'll be fine
til the hospital or
american embassy"
gets me every time
leaves an actual pain
in my stomach
the ache of something
i want more than anything
to die
or leave
to no longer be
choked
convulsing on the
scratched wooden floor
legs twitching and
forehead sweating
i can't breathe
and it's not just
the humidity
it's the thoughts
it's the scars that are
too new to talk about
and the ones
too old to care about
eyelashes are
scraping irises
hands are
always sticky
how pain
is normalized
and anxiety
just happens.
the song is over
play it again
shuffle and repeat
until sleep
i should have stayed home
i always should stay home
but i don't like
home anymore
i never did like home
and it's mostly because of
who i find there
when i'm all alone.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
Fluttering weakly in the breeze
Left in the wake of the train's passing,
George's proud flag hung limp
From the pole,
Weathered and worn,
Like a tired old soul.
It's procurement no doubt,
was a misplaced, ill-thought out
statement of pride,
A belligerent shout
At the fresh-off-the-boat,
Here for the so-called ride.
The flag was once clear,
But Britannia's grey skies had
Poured down their drink,
Washing the colours,
Calming the passion,
From red into pink.
The train swept past,
It's multicultural seats
Brimming in rainbow hues,
As the punters sped
To the proud parade
Of the minority few.
They saluted the flag,
Laughter from lipstick,
Teasing it's impotence,
As the hated flag
Unexpectedly praised
Their innocence.
The train traveled on,
Past gardens like embassy roofs,
Displaying flags in retort;
Their bright bold colours
From every shore
Joined in support.
No tears for poor George,
Confused in his ways,
Run up a flagpole to fall and decay.
So sad to see, thought Union Jack,
As he flew with his friends
And waved at the track.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
Invaded
I walk toward the embassy, your stars and stripes fly high,
When you came here seven years ago, we kissed stability goodbye,
You came in with your tanks and troops, behind an aerial attack,
Your deliverance of democracy, ripped a hole in our Iraq,
Now you patrol our sandy streets and harass us everyday,
All you've done while in our homeland, is take our rights away,
You arrest so many “suspects”, playing out your little games,
Like the story, of my father and how he was found in chains,
His blood is on your hands, leaders of the West,
He never even raised his voice to you, or spoke a word of protest
We plead with you and beg you to leave us and yet you stay,
Waiting, in the shadows to pounce on us like prey,
Ever since your troops arrived, they've caused nothing but trouble,
With your tanks and troops, you've turned our homes to rubble,
I see the gate in front of me, and have no doubt,
This I must do, this to drive you out.
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 2:25 PM UTC
Get me a ticket flying cargo
Sweep me to Columbia, to Mexico
Desserts of ancient sands
Bring me enemies and friends
Take me in first class
And back again
Steal tears, take everything for me
Every need is a want, every want is a need
Riots at the embassy in Mexico
Carry on we’ve places to go
Take me by coach
You already know
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
From Princess Esther Fatouma,
The future queen of lies and deception
Dear ALLAH Elect, the most high,
Who blessed me with the powers to cheat
My luciferous pleasure to have contact with you,
Based on the pathetic and critical condition I find mine self,
Though, it's not financial problem,
But my health you might have known
That cancer is not what to talk home about,
Though I don't know you, but your are my sweet victim
And my contact with you was not by mistake,
But by the divine favour of ALLAH the maker of I the prankster
I am married to Mr. Mohamed Sule, I love him dearly,
My husband worked with Tunisia embassy in Burkina Faso
For nine years before he died in the year 2008.
We were married for eleven years without a child.
He died after a brief illness that lasted for five days.
Since his death I decided not to remarry,
When my late husband was alive
he deposited the sum of US$ 2.2m, waaa!
Two million two hundred thousand dollars,
in a bank in Ouagadougou the capital city of Burkina Faso
It is a wonder why all this sonnetic fortune,
In west Africa Presently this money is still in bank.
He made this money available, minus chains
for exportation of Gold from Burkina Faso mining.
Recently, My Doctor told me some thing new;
I am yet to visit the land of my ancestors, my husband
That I don't have much time to live because of the cancer problem,
Having known my condition,
I decided to hand you over this money
To take care of the less-privileged people,
You will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein
I want you to take thirty Percent of the total money for your personal use
While seventy percent of the money will go to charity
Helping the orphanage and all those that are homeless,
And I pray that you are foolish enough to provide your bank details
You would have converted yourself in to over parented orphanage.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC