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"exemplars" poems
What to do when you’ve got the blues Was it me or is it you My plans are simple To love life and be loved too Their must be some kinds of deception For you must love life and need one too Or be one of Billions of bricks in a grand pyramid scheme But where in the mirror thee one on top Is the one of thee ruse Whom is under all And who saves all fooled Is there one among you who is more Or less than precious you Come on you’all What would you be kidding me for Like my lies to and about you Like I could live without you And rather forget or shout rat at ya Have you scrounge through ******* that ye’ may you eat or wire tie tire scraps to the souls of your feet For we’ve come such a long way To be here today While it’s not been to long Or far to go with squabble, plunder, resource **** and plow it under That climates are for shifting Seasons without reasons Masses are off for the drifting Our earth without our gratitude we sure aren’t 'a pleasin’ Thee oceanic cradle of conception 'tis sewer now Like could I be without thee sky above me Would thee auto or truck eat the one last bean And every brick without a home Not a hunting ground Some tillable earth or seed to sow Toxic fish in the untamable sea And She will do as she wants She will do as she needs She’ll easily come and suddenly recede Upon her eggshell basin we drill siphon pump poison and bleed We blow holes in the ionosphere Magnetic shifts and solar flairs Does our wild kingdom wish us well Or rather see us off into exile from our hells Of dust bowls and Goodyear treads to save our souls Journey on wayward ones Is not a thing sacred not a one Holy  liars say anti-christ better hurry fast So saviors come to condemn our past And free us from, to us what’s been done Seven say there is the Savior And six are sick evil ones And we can not agree of the one Seven times to the nth degree is what we will need Till our actions are thee savings grace As Great Exemplars have professed Each of us must overcome And Holy Creature become In the stregnth of forgiveness We undo to thee and us done We are the ones to feel to see That Love is the fire Which is pure bravery You forge in the now Without the forgetting Tomorrows you desire Where love will rise And set as thee One in all
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Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
What to do
What to do when you’ve got the blues Was it me or is it you My plans are simple To love life and be loved too Their must be some kinds of deception For you must love life and need one too Or be one of Billions of bricks in a grand pyramid scheme But where in the mirror thee one on top Is the one of thee ruse Whom is under all And who saves all fooled Is there one among you who is more Or less than precious you Come on you’all What would you be kidding me for Like my lies to and about you Like I could live without you And rather forget or shout rat at ya Have you scrounge through ******* that ye’ may you eat or wire tie tire scraps to the souls of your feet For we’ve come such a long way To be here today While it’s not been to long Or far to go with squabble, plunder, resource **** and plow it under That climates are for shifting Seasons without reasons Masses are off for the drifting Our earth without our gratitude we sure aren’t 'a pleasin’ Thee oceanic cradle of conception 'tis sewer now Like could I be without thee sky above me Would thee auto or truck eat the one last bean And every brick without a home Not a hunting ground Some tillable earth or seed to sow Toxic fish in the untamable sea And She will do as she wants She will do as she needs She’ll easily come and suddenly recede Upon her eggshell basin we drill siphon pump poison and bleed We blow holes in the ionosphere Magnetic shifts and solar flairs Does our wild kingdom wish us well Or rather see us off into exile from our hells Of dust bowls and Goodyear treads to save our souls Journey on wayward ones Is not a thing sacred not a one Holy  liars say anti-christ better hurry fast So saviors come to condemn our past And free us from, to us what’s been done Seven say there is the Savior And six are sick evil ones And we can not agree of the one Seven times to the nth degree is what we will need Till our actions are thee savings grace As Great Exemplars have professed Each of us must overcome And Holy Creature become In the stregnth of forgiveness We undo to thee and us done We are the ones to feel to see That Love is the fire Which is pure bravery You forge in the now Without the forgetting Tomorrows you desire Where love will rise And set as thee One in all
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69
The ineffaceable stain Allegorical refrain Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane They hector from a distance Muted but militant resistance magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence Heterodoxy enters the stage Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage Succor sought, corporate media bought A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought I defer to dignified exemplars I confer with callous company at vapid bars Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success The articulations of divinity imply rigidity sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core omnipresent paparazzi deplores Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity Cupid and cupidity must be related because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep Redemptive powers yet articulated Should ease the prospects of being matriculated But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right? Must I swim to distant shores Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach. Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
0
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Begrudged at Every Tick
The ineffaceable stain Allegorical refrain Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane They hector from a distance Muted but militant resistance magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence Heterodoxy enters the stage Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage Succor sought, corporate media bought A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought I defer to dignified exemplars I confer with callous company at vapid bars Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success The articulations of divinity imply rigidity sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core omnipresent paparazzi deplores Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity Cupid and cupidity must be related because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep Redemptive powers yet articulated Should ease the prospects of being matriculated But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right? Must I swim to distant shores Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach. Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
Continue reading...
34
What is your story? What say you, curtsy, wile and whisper - You, the everyman, blank face in the crowd; You, the stranger on the streets, decked out and dapper; nay We, who exist in the life of the life gone, forgotten, that Time enshroud? What pictures do your eyes behold in visions past and present- drawn to memory in intangible ink yet indelibly lustre? From whence the dreams do you evoke in daytime quiescence or cascading phantasms painted on pitch-black canvasses unfurled in slumber? What paths have you taken, to gloom or glory and upon which pedestals have you stood in crowning echelon - when once upon a mountain peak, above clouds, you stood proudly - or taking solace in sidewalk shelters with no home to go to thereupon. What words should escape your lips in all manner of dictum or wisdom and deceit for all intents and folly? Words in coalescence like beads on strings, the essence of rhythm threaded by tongues in guile and unwitting poetry: What say you, as but a flower linger and wither in the winds of Time; a mere flicker in the lives of stars? What prose should speak your story, hither or dither in unwitting poetry - nay Unpoetry! - as the Everyman exemplars? Alas Unpoetic, the story of us all in bloom told in unwitting poetry and archetypal analogue. Alas so unique the lives we lead from conception in the womb should by perchance end with a humble epilogue.
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Unpoetry
Open arms of our ancestors were chained by salvation Imprisoned for their hospitality to wolves in white robes Exemplars of ideal piety in a sea of persistent savagery Anathematizing our ethnicity to centuries of slavery. A rich heritage was converted by ecclesiastics In exchange for a theology void of its vast history. Kingdom's senior to Rome birthed civilizations, agriculture and commerce. Yet its philosophy was condemned and baptized by brainwashers. Our fruitful Motherland and legends found wanting by their holy book, Genesis 9:25-27: "Cursed be Canaan! The lowest of slaves will he be to his brothers. He also said, 'Blessed be the Lord, the God of Shem! May Canaan be the slave of Shem." A poisoned doctrine arrested mentality of lineages To deprive and surrender self, seeking an afterlife eternity, To wholeheartedly fund false prophets n preachers of hypocrisy And remain blinded to our heritage and congenital blessings. "Africa must wake up, Sleeping sons of Jacob" In slumber we backboned empires enteprises and entertainment Still failing to grant our compensation and true valuation Cause we are now followers to their Chains of Salvation.
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Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
Chains of Salvation