"forewarned" poems
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern, be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen
they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls? do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?
my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 23, 2018
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
#
A lively debate
that inside I create
A seemingly
simple state
But this state
of affairs
Is like a ****** affair*
The details
I wish not to share
Please,
don’t stare
For inside
I’m scared
Am I prepared?
Do I have
the ***** to do
what I really care?
Or am I going
to stay on this ship
of self-despair
Where
I can scream
my lungs ******
into the air
But does anyone care?
Do I even f@cking care??
Maybe a life spared
but ***spare me the
retched bullsh@t***
of self-pity
I’m self-giving
It wreaks up the air
It’s noxious scent
is not one I care
to ever encounter
or fair
Let’s “clear the air”
and take on
what I want
from now on
No longer a pawn
who is living the tired
joke
of some *pathetic
love song*
No, THIS
is my “Swan Song”
Where I belong
This sh@t is ON!
Climbing the mountain strong
Bellowing a chant
a song
That’s been so deep within
for so long
It can only come out
Right
Because “wrong”
does not belong
**This virus
is airborne**
No longer forlorn
All the darkness
is gone
You have been
forewarned
Are you ready?
Because it’s coming
Sounding the horn
Sacrificed
the firstborn
The “storm”
Once icy and cold
Now simmering warm
Going to bubble into
volcanic ash scorned
This Oath
hath been sworn
Tattered and torn
**** cloth
all that is worn
But forward my path
What’s behind me
**My ***
The past
*Worn out,
decayed,
and shriveling trash*
All that
is gone
as I head
towards the dawn
Through the darkness
I’ve trekked
The Sun rises ahead
And with it
My song
My Swan Song
I am reborn
withered and worn
But still strong
I belong
***I am one
with the Universe***
The path before me
is brightly lit
with happiness and joy
No more patheticness
All the grit
and the spit
Broken teeth
All that sh@t
It all meant something
It was THIS
*Every bruise
Every break
All the “wrongs”
and “mistakes”*
Are what it takes
You can call it fate
or simply short of fatal
but since
neonatal
through this day till
Every day
I thankfully say
“Thank you”
for showing me the way
Because now I have
A love that stays
A true love
One that can’t
get away
Because I value Me
One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’
But like a house
Each brick is laid
Onto the next
Foundation made
A sturdy house
Can’t blow away
Hard work put in
Made it this way
The same for me
The price I paid
But end result
A saving grace
#
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
“When we hand down
This flag to posterity
Paying prices of life
To the country's
Age-old sovereignty
It is with a word of caution
'This generation
Should accord due attention
To handing down
To the coming generation
A new Ethiopia
To fruits of development
A cornucopia!' ”
“Yes, grandpa
Working day and night
We shall take Ethiopia
To a new developmental height!
Once Ethiopia was great
How could we that forget?
The country's renaissance
Firm we shall advance!
For common growth
Resources we
Shall harness,
Allowing the region
Soar with wings of success!”//
I am happy to announce the birth of my poetic drama
In the Vortex of Passion's Wind
By United P.C-publication without risk and quickly (Austria)
ISBN 978-3-7103-2109-2
Release date09092015
GBP14,90
About the book
Shock treatments that attend the wrong turns of life reshape people's mindset anew and nudge them out of their slumbers. On the other hand, as forewarned is forearmed, the sagacious learn from the lapse of the trigger-happy than indulge in the vortex of passion's wind. Miss not this page turner and cliffhanger mainly dealing with HIV/AIDS in a campus of a country worst hit by the pandemic.
Please buy and read the book.You could also get your collection of poems published by www.unitedP.c-publishquickly and without a risk
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
We are never free of our Demons
We learn to ignore them
We learn to drown them out
We learn to live with them
Or we get drowned by them
And don't live at all
Our Demons only want one thing
They want to see you squirm
They want to see you give up
They want to see you fail
But you must not
There comes a time you must face them
When you face them
It seems like you against an army
It seems like you against the world
It seems like you against yourself
Because you are fighting yourself
You are your own fiercest Arch-Demon
After you accept this
You can finally conquer yourself
You can finally conquer the Demons that come from without
You can finally conquer even the world itself
And make it tremble
Before your awesome might
But be forewarned
These Demons are powerful
These Demons are smart
These Demons are adaptable
They are all of these things
Because you are all of these things
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
The sun shines on us all, as well as the rain
Torrential downpours of pain, we lose and we gain
We veer into cliched territory to verbalize our response to more tragedies that a lost world continues to offer
The signs of the times the Holy Text forewarned becomes ever more visible...except to the blind and the Scoffer
Why does the blood of the innocent and unknowing continue to shed for the next man’s awakening of his own imminent flatline?
At times I, picture myself in someone else’s fate, how would I have handled myself in that same place?
How would I have responded with bullets suddenly flying around me as potential dead bodies surround me, in that unexpected moment of truth...which characteristic would have ultimately found me? cowardice...or courage?
I find myself at times discouraged by my struggle with self-assurance in knowing that my demonstrating answer would have been in the latter rather than the former
How many times have we entered into a school, mall, concert venue only to have a passing or pressing thought enter into our conscience only to ask “what if I’m not supposed to make it back out alive”?
I often wonder if Rachel Scott struggled with these internal inquiries in the years, months, days, hours, final seconds before she stepped foot on that columbine soil destined to receive her call to became a maytr for the Gospel she lived...and died for.
What exactly are we dying for? Are we dying to self? Or because of it?
Whether our final earthly breath is due to a natural cause or one unsuspecting...what are we dying for?
Many people will not be able to answer that question…until it is forever too late...
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
Consisting of grown, persisting as shown and unknown. Insisting entities, rivalries and sworn enemies! Deformed, forewarned, formed, informed, mourned, performed, reformed and scorned. Dates of great storms! Family tree of hate, horns and thorns. My family tree of gore, horror, more, poor and sore. Perhaps of mishaps galore. Briefly sit
back! I’ll roughly take you back… Heck! Back to a time of attack,
blacks, slacks and whacks. My family tree of practical, tactical, methodical Aztec. Some beckon and reckon in seconds. A family tree of crime, grime and rhyme. A nation of communication, dedication,
dissemination, motivation and procrastination. The splendor of sin
of my corruptive, disruptive kin. They rely more on the color of one’s
skin. My family tree of abuse and misuse that misuses and seduces! Family tree of warfare and welfare legalities, moralities and family-prodigies. Picture this scriptural twist! Some assist on a kiss. I insist
some are idealities in social technicalities. Alcoholics, diabetics,
****** exotic, fantastic, Catholics, eccentric, horrific and poetic. I persist… some gnomes, some roam, some in poems, some with no homes. My family tree of adventuresome, awesome, handsome and troublesome. My family tree of beautiful and bountiful! Some are a
handful some handicap some locally and vocally-rap. Some slap,
gift-wrap and yap! Some are snuggly, pretty, witty or ugly. In my family tree, some crippled, some with pimples, some with freckles
and some that heckle. Some belittle and little, some wrinkled and old. Some are bold and pray to the lord! Some are Frio, meaning cold we
were told. Some I say, are poor with no Amor. Some are here no more, in my family tree of Amor.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
He was one of those guys who marry money.
And you can grok that in any sense you desire.
But be forewarned, my friend,
I am well-versed in a multitude of
Marry-For-Money manifestations.
Take, for example, marrying the Boss' daughter.
Come with me, for illustration's sake,
Join me in one such dis-functional household:
George & Martha's place on campus--
A classic Tudor-revival home,
Ivied & plushly-appointed,
A coveted faculty perk
Which goes along with the gig.
And the gag, for that matter.
I speak, of course, of Edward Albee's
Two perversely miserable humans,
Married to each other, to wit:
George & Martha, leading lives of
Pubis-scratching desperation, in
"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"
She's the only daughter--
Daddy's precious jewel--
Only girl-child of the President
Of a small, rural college.
He's the middle-aged professor
With no great pedagogic or research prowess.
His working-class perspective,
Viewing the quiet academic life to be
A significant step up in genteel existence.
Except--and there's the rub:
Mere existence is a far cry from
Living the good life Dan Draper &
The rest of Satan's Mad Men minions
Taught him to take for granted.
So George & Martha,
In terms of core values,
Have little in common;
More like opposites, in fact:
His starvation diet as a child &
Her helping out Mom at the
Food Bank on Saturday mornings.
It's those formative razzmatazz years,
He lacked the behavior blueprint,
The overwhelming fatigue of acting.
He's perpetually memorizing lines,
Practicing ****** expressions &
Physical gestures & phrases.
Guard up, another Oscar-worthy performance,
Burton is superb & Elizabeth Taylor
Showing us precisely why she is &
Will continue to be revered as an actress.
George knows she has his number.
The thing about the play is the
Intense malice the couple feel for each other.
For the audience, an experience in stage drama
Best classified as an intensely painful morality play.
A good thing to remember: Live Theater
Adds value to a community.
Give generously, please!
But I digress.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
Dedicated to all my Poet Friend, as I wish them a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year - 2019 ! Kindly read the footnotes too. If you like it, do re-post this poem for wider circulation please! Thank You, - Raj
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM !
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Travelling west guided by a Bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the 'uncrowned
King' one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolised His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume ! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life -
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolising His sorrowing, suffering
and crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children
and bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
Of His kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
……………………………………………………………….......................
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD Manuscript says that these Three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne !!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC, which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes, & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming , - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
ALL COPY RIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
,
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
Dedicated to Ms Valsa George & my Poet Friend, as I wish them a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year - 2017 !
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM !
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Traveling west guided by a Bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the uncrowned
King one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolized His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume ! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life -
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolising His sorrowing, suffering
and crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children
and bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
HIS kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
………………………………………………………………...........................¬..
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD Manuscript says that these Three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne !!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC,
which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes, & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming , - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
,
Edit poem
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
If you do use me
Without your safety glasses
Be forewarned, I'm sharp
I cut to the quick, and swift
I don't mean to but I hurt.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM!
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Traveling west guided by a bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the uncrowned
King one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolized His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolizing His sorrowing, suffering, and
crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children and
bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
HIS kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
………………………………………………………………..........................................
A Very Happy Christmas To All My Reader!
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD manuscript says that these three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that
King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC,
which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes , & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming ; - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
,
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust
All these bones that carried
Once gold now only rust.
Why pick up
a dented thing
when it is no more use
for you?
Why pick up
a broken being
when it sees no safe place
or the difference between false and true?
Throw it away,
it's nothing good.
Go on your way,
as you should.
There are thorns here more than roses,
neither a bud or bloom to be seen.
You, traveler, should best be on your guard
Go back to the road where first you have been.
Blood boils not
to a heart that no longer beats;
that no longer sputters life
that was never in the place for keeps.
Keep away, good man;
your sweat is aimed for greater things,
your time for the one who beautifully sings;
your heart for the better and light winged.
Cuts and edges are all I have,
dark eyes and silent lips to give you no grace.
It is a colorful heart you seek - yet mine is shattered,
burnt and black;
I believe I am the wrong one to replace.
To feel you softly,
wholesomely,
that seems to be a dream
made not for my tattered self.
I am too afraid
of breaking you
or being too selfish of the thought
of having you
or taking for granted your life
when I say I do love you -
When you could have been:
better off,
or good without,
maybe even better -
someone else's.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
I used to compromise often...
That's why I've been so hurt,
Always giving a man just what he wants
Never getting what I really need.
So, I'm done being a pushover...
From now on,
I'm getting what I want first
Then possibly giving in
You know what?
From now on,
I'm gonna be a *****
You've been forewarned...
❤
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Be wary, be intelligent
don't lose hope
and
don't forget
that though you
believe in death
marking the end of your
problems
and while it certainly is
the key
to your problems
it certainly isn't
Looks are deceptive
It seems, and virtually feels
as though it can lead you out of ALL
the ****** misery in your life
its kinda.. untrue..
because after you die..
you are to go to the Underworld..
and please, lets not talk about it
I dont have a personal experience about it
but seriously
You will face just the same problems again
is it worth it to leave your progress right now?
You are doing great,
and death has doors
which you,
aren't required to knock on
for a while
A REALLY LONG WHILE
so please, enjoy the season of christmas
meet people under mistletoe
yes, I am serious about that
and live
and see the brighter side of things
and also watch Sherlock
season 3..
I like that show,
you will too
Just live and let bygones
be bygones
If this is too cliche
well..
Sorry about it.
I am trying to convey a point
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
The drop of a needle sounds like the falling of an anvil; In the center of my existence. I was forewarned and forbidden; Oh, but it made the fruit from the Garden even sweeter. It had an edge; How ever sharp or dull the knife. It made me feel daring and alive; Now its smothering me. All of It. Now, Some sad sort of creature who can't get a hold of its being sits in the mirror before me; Its has an inhumane existence to trundle on with. Its dying of an addiction no rehab can cure, however hard they try. Falling; falling to the void. Deep into the withered hearts of those long before who suffered and lost. Aye; It has suffered and lost. No humanity left in these cheap wine like bones. With sunken lips and bruised hope. No love to live on and none to give away. Come join it in it's bleak and tragic existence; Wallowing in the dirt of its grave. Crowned and dug it lies with no prospects to forgive. How wise it thought itself to be. Stinking of sunshine when really it was rotting to the core. Vile imperfection and false intentions. Knives and daggers to those whose crossed it's path. Bleach bones and beach whales in its wake; How unforgiving the cold to the man who has been cast out; Rejected? How dead a bird whose wings have been clipped; Broken? With bleeding heart to match. Not even It could fly with broken wing and painted snarl in the fashion of a grin. With sharp teeth and empty longing. Oh how it longs for just a whisper on the wind from the old country.But so it will trudge; Broken with a head of false hope on it's hunched over shoulders.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Rumpelstiltskin caught the clap
Miss Muffet got a slap
Breadcrumbs leading to the gap,
Indicated on Grimm’s map.
The Magic mirror’s spewing crap
Helping the Huntsman continually fap.
The Third Little Pig, stripped of his red wig.
Booked a new gig, on Cinderella’s oil rig.
Snow White fell back asleep.
Creepy dwarves tentatively creep
The Big Bad Wolf’s known to weep.
Staring regretfully at the flock of Lil Bo-Peep.
Mother Goose’s gone years without a peep.
Recognizing that royalties shouldn’t come cheap.
Humpty Dumpty forgot the wall, forewarned of the inevitable fall.
Beauty left Beast at the mall, said kind words, but never did call.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Annoyance is such a hideous thing.
It blackens the heart.
Making it sting.
You say stop.
Do as I say!
How can I?
When you do it anyway..?
Annoyance...
Such an Ugly thing.
You can breathe..
But never have glee.
Remember the fallen..
Queen of hearts.
She roams within the darkness..
Of the humans heart.
I do not care.
Leave me be..
Be forewarned.
I might just..
Scream...
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
"Good morning," says 5:06
This is your gentle reminder to arise
Be forewarned that the sun is waking
On the brink of dawn or disaster
We all have failures to atone for
And this is your gentle reminder that
No matter how many times you climb
Your feet will never stand upon holy ground
"Good afternoon" says 1:15
This is your gentle reminder to venture forth
But this is a place that you have no claim to
So be off like the nosy brat you have become
We all come here to escape someone
And this is your gentle reminder that
The someone who pursues is quick
Running on cylinders that you don't yet possess
"Goodnight" says 11:49
And this is your gentle reminder to evanesce
This is a place that preys upon your weakness
So close your eyes and dissolve into dreamless sleep
We all survive our own mortality
And this is your gentle reminder that
To bring favor upon remaining days
You must release the grasp on the ones before
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Troll be leery, troll beware
Troll we'll find Thee anywhere
In the toilet, neath the stairs
Anywhere Thee's rancor glares
Troll be leery, troll beware
Troll we'll find Thee anywhere
Laughing at Thee's haughty airs,
Boastful words… but no one cares
Troll be leery, troll beware
Troll we'll find Thee anywhere
Faced with words where talent flares,
Leaves Thee startled, unawares
Troll be leery, troll beware
Troll we'll find Thee anywhere
In Thee prate or in Thee prayers
Be forewarned, our patience wears
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
The cryptic missive
Written in ink ancient
Eloquent quill scribbles
Old English vocabulary
Unfamiliar etymology
Unknown writer
Chronicled messages unclear
For whom, none known
Yet to be deciphered
Papyrus survived
And words of yesteryear
On a time travel to future
Wonder, if anyone had read
Back in olden times
Or, was it a prophecy
For the future to unravel
A seer with vision
To foresee the future
Should we be forewarned?
Lest the truth was known
And we are living a lie
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester, .
How many funerals must we attend
Before the genocide is brought to an end
How many families must be left behind
Before we regain our presence of mind
How many times must it all be repeated
Before the enemy is finally defeated
When will self-love become our sacred trust
See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us
What good are the candles or the cardboard shrines
When it’s apparent that we’ve lost our minds
What good is a painting of the deceased
When the violence is steadily being increased
When will self-love become our sacred trust
See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us
This ain’t a lecture I’m not here to preach
So let’s call this a form of social outreach
The message is urgent I’ll try to be brief
While sharing insight as to my belief
We are the problem and we are the cure
So we can’t go on blaming others anymore
When will self-love become our sacred trust
See I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us
How did we get here is open to debate
But I think you’ll agree the root cause is self-hate
Before another brother or sister is harmed
To be forewarned is to be forearmed
We need to return to our original state
Where we loved one another before the hate
I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us
I’ve seen the enemy and the enemy is us
Cedric McClester Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
Awakened and running from the tomb,
I held what was dear, intellect and groom,
The grooming of intelligence and common sense,
At one point I thought there was no difference,
How could all of humanity be this insane?
I try to help, I’m no hero, in vain.
-
Running wild, I found the path
The winds and turns, cornering so fast,
I got lost within its woods,
Until I stopped, lost, and stood
Aside a trunk so broken and old,
I caught my breathe before a cold,
The breeze picked up and kissed my cheek,
I pulled my collar and felt so meek,
At some point, I started to endure
The path again, walking once more,
I thought of everything today had brought,
The lesson, the woman, the thoughts they wrought,
I thought of old times and hating things then,
Not knowing in time I’d hate like a man,
Pre-determined, with knowledge and ability,
To make the judgment with further virality,
In contempt I held all that I’d known,
A willing sacrifice upon a stone,
I walked with venom until it struck,
A visage so wrathful, it had me stuck.
-
Speechless, I paused and looked,
I stood there agape and almost mistook,
It for a leviathan, it was that grand,
A massive tree that surely there stands,
It must have been a thousand years old,
Seeing true tales of stories unfold,
Its grandeur surpassed all before
I’d seen or heard of in stories of yore,
Its beauty was a roaring wave,
Its white, dead bark and leafless branches depraved.
-
The dead, white Sycamore stared at me,
A bench underneath it beckoning,
When I sat, I knew nothing but dark tranquility,
I felt my blessed suffering,
I’d only ever known what agony,
Had life ever had in store for me,
But sitting under this guardian,
I could have slept soundly and quite solemn,
The chill in its bark warmed me inside,
I shared something with something in mind,
Its arms lingered over me and forewarned all out,
That I was not to be touched throughout,
My journey here, or ever again
Would the dead infest in me herein.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Despite what even the most may modest say,
there is always an element of narcissism in art, the vanity of preference.
Be forewarned the parts of myself I want to show the most here are meticulously vain.
There is a whole lot of preference in my language.
In the way the carpenter is with his tools
I want to carve into you with some hardened truth.
Taking lines, forming letters, producing sounds and pictures
touching a place in people that exists
before words.
The closest thing to us being all
right here,
feet planted, on the same world.
Of course, then there is the sad reality of countries.
Borders for what you belong to.
Tourist! Do not bother,
only the homesick may enter.
You won’t find this sort of thing on any map.
Pens aren’t so precise, our hands too clumsy
all our tools right down to the thumb incapable of enumerating glory.
What with all of it’s digits
tightly wound around it’s bigger stick
the only kind of glory that is heard of
simply because it kills.
But my kind of glory is dying to meet you
somewhere inside, under, between, around, outside,
after, during, before my language..
With that said,
Here is the mission statement;
I pledge to be right with this moment.
To cast myself out the furthest a mind can carry one in any given
instant and bring back more of the goodness that serves
instead of white noise that moves nothing
or clutter that just makes it hard to move.
As I realize we are objects being moved by all that is around us,
for instance;
thinking of the same person every time you enter a particular room.
Romance does happen to those who know how to look.
You do not look by containing anything with separation.
The walls must heave and collapse like lungs
because my body is mostly dead things that are just now
learning.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
1
dearest readers online
be forewarned
when you read a poem
there may be irony ahead
and if you don't look out
yes, it can be like you've
run against an iron pole
smack bang against the forehead
(which may not matter if you're Ironhead)
but if you're anything like me
flesh and blood and heart -
Ouch! It can more than hurt!)
2
be forewarned also
when you read a poem
it can be like
driving in a school zone
when the kids are going home -
so watch out:
*irony may be walking with persona
and the literal with metaphor
and maybe a figurative pig round the corner
and sarcasm hand in hand
with opposite-of-what's-being-said*
3
so do drive alert
eyes open, mind open
when in Poetry Land
O most intelligent reader
for you never know
in the thoroughfare of poetry
who you might
just bump into:
*Mr Alternative;
Mr So-in-your-face;
Ms I-Want-to-Talk-About-God-Yet-Again;
Vicar There's-No-Bloody-God;
Mr and Mrs Moralist;
Mr and Mrs Hey-Let's-Have-Sex-While-at-Poetry
like-they-do-in-the-back-seats-at-the-movies* -
and so on, you know:
It can be like being Alice in Wonderland
with the Mad Hatter
but you got to keep your sanity
for company
yep, stay alert
or you might just crash your Reading
4
An Afterthought
and I know
wise reader
all the above might make me sound
like Mr-know-all
but hey! - modesty's never been
the poet's professional trait
(you must think about that -
cos even the poet devoted entirely
to Subjects Divine and Holy
and of Such Lofty Things
and exuding sweet humility
is ****** arrogant -
cos they do implicitly or explicitly claim
they know what really matters,
while you or I don't)
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC