"gaddafi" poems
Dear Gaddafi
I was hoping to be
One of your female
Body guards
So I can tease you
With my AK
Against my self
Be your play thing
And by day protect
You my sweet
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
The
Decider-in-Chief
made
another
hard
decision,
rebebilitatin
a debilitating
Gaddafi.
The
Agog
Decider
sleekly
peeked
into the
bleak
soul
of the
master
Bedouin.
The
Pious
Decider
peered
pretty
deeply,
so its
hard to tell
what his
arcane
rebelations
revealed.
Some say
The
Jaundiced
Decider,
saw the
desert
bleeding
deliciously
malicious
sweet crude
onto the
scabby
tongues
of
Halliburton
Executives
while
Big Time
Vice
Dickey Boy
******
a petrol
nozzle
dry,
licking
the dripped
drops
that
drizzled
from the
shoot
hole,
so as
not to waste
a precious drop
to satiate
the black
viscous
goo
coursing
through
the ebony
veins of his
chingling
heart.
Others
say
The
Condoning
Decider
sized up
the man
and saw
a brother-in-arms
in the fight
against
The Evil Doers;
yet failed to
see the
revolting
obscenities
his new
comrade-in-arms
inflicted
upon his
own body
politic.
The
Forgetful
Decider,
blessed
with amnesia
forgot
Lockerbie and
applauded
BP's royal
court of
justice
for
pardoning
all perps.
The
Oblivious
Decider's
near
sightedness
failed to
foresee
a brewing
blow-back
amassing
in the
desert
winging
its way
home
on the
blasting
sands of
a blistering
Saharan
sirocco.
The
Pollyannish
Decider
envisioned
grand
spectacles,
only happy
visions of
Beyonce,
JZ, Usher
and the
Def Jam
Buddha
Russell
Simmons
yodeling
filthy
lucre
tunes,
sending
giggling
tweets
while
partying
down
with
Muammar's
posse
of martinets
and
way cool
far out
crazy
execs
drunk
with the
power
that blinds
the eye to
all discernment.
The Decider
decides.
Music Selection:
Lady Ga Ga
Beyonce,
Telephone
Oakland
3/3/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
It is the last Tuesday of March in 2011
Two months ago, Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali
Prime minister of Tunisia, was forced into exile
Twenty three years is enough
He needs that time in Saudi Arabia
It does not feel like it has been two months
Because the world, right after that January
Has been shaken up
Egypt has since forced Hosni Mubarak
Their dictator of thirty years
Out of the country and onto the shores of the Red Sea
Democracy by will of the people
Popular uprising
A violent revolution perhaps
But yes, revolution in freedom, ideals
These countries will be different
For the better I hope
Now the people of Libya are up in arms
Crying and fighting for their freedom
And because there is so much oil in Libya
And because Gaddafi is letting his troops fire on civilians
The UN is sweating and threatening to take action
Aside from the awful earthquake in Japan
I blame the people of Tunisia for doing the right thing
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
I love life, because in living you get all problems
I love eating because you can constipate if you eat a lot,
I love women because they reduce pocket giants to beggars,
I love children because they instill economic tension to parents,
I love trees because green snakes derive poison from them,
I love poor people because their life is pure experiment,
I love rich people because they snobbishly love themselves
I love motor vehicles because they depreciate in a decade,
I love Americans because they have drones for Gaddafi,
I love Americans because they know nothing beyond their borders,
I love the British because they have a monarch in their democracy,
I love Europeans because they were perfect in colonialism,
I love Africans because they are natural stooges, but very showy
I love the Chinese because they are all short, young and commutalists,
I love the Catholic Church because it has liberal piety,
I love Muslims because they are not intellectually tolerant to Rushdie,
I love young girls because they rarely sense danger,
I love Germans because they made a beetle car; Volkswagen,
I love the Japanese for honesty; they declared me Shinto of poetry,
I love my wife for her spendthrift culture
I love my son for his disgust of school and books,
I love myself for being a poetic rapscallion,
I love everything for in love you display your folly,
I love music, wine and money; they expose you to the robbers
I love short people for their mediocrous thought pattern
I love tall women; they are dull, honesty and rarely divorce,
I love English hunchbacks for they are famed for being erotically strong.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
Now I’ve...
Already Done Said It... !!!
Some Peoples’ Work Ethic...
Is... TRULY PATHETIC... !!!!!
And YET THEY...
Seem To Want CREDIT... ?!?
For The Way That They...
Choose To Work Away...
In Their Day To Day...
But They Need To REFRAIN...
From Making CLAIMS... !!!!
That Their Ethics SWAY...
To Having NO DELAY...
In Being... GREAT... !!!!!!
I’ve Said It BEFORE...
And … I’m Now SURE...
That I Will Say It AGAIN... !!!
The CLAIMS Some Make...
Are Those That Display...
... A Crying SHAME... !!!
That DENIES BLAME... !!!
Or Morals That AIM...
At Doing The Things...
That They’re QUICK To Say...
That Their Work Ethics...
Display In Their Ways... !!!
Like... MORALITY...
That I Have To Say SADLY... !!!
Defines Well ……….
... TRAGEDIES... !!!
WITHOUT Gaddafi... !!!
Or Morals That Gladly...
Choose To Be MANLY...
In... How They Move...
Like Doing EXACTLY...
What They Say They’ll Do... !!!
Instead of Move BADLY...
Like The Moves of FOOLS...
Who NEED Ethics School... !!!
The Type That INFUSE...
Being Able To PROVE...
Rather Than INCLUDE...
The Type of ETHICS..
That Should Be REFUSED... !!!
BELIEVE Me It’s TRUE...
of These INDUSTRY CREWS... !!!
Like Those Who CHOOSE...
To Make Those Tunes...
And QUALITY GROOVES...
In... Studio Rooms...
And Those In Booths...
Where Their Voices Croon...
Or Drop Rap Tunes...
I’ve Seen It Here...
I’ve Seen It There...
In Places Where...
The Caribbean Sun...
Makes Working HARD...
And... FAR From FUN... !!!
When Working OUTSIDE...
When The Sun Is HIGH...
Can... Burn Ya HIDE... !!!
That’s Right Ya BACKSIDE...
When There Are CLEAR SKIES... !!!
I’ve Also Seen THIS Stuff...
Run In... ENGLAND... !!!
Where Moral Codes...
When It Comes To Work Zones...
Have INCREDIBLY... SHOWN... !?!
That... RACISM...
Doesn’t Even Get SHUNNED...
When It Is... BLATANT... !!!
Because Moral Ethics...
Are A RARITY... !!!
In ALL KINDS of Scenes...
Where People Now Be... !!!
It’s... AMAZING To See...
That HUMANITY In TWENTY TWENTY... !!!
Has The Type of … Ethics...
That Are WORSE Than Testy... !!!
Deserving NO CREDIT... !!!
Because They Are MESSY...!!!
And Winning NO TITLES... !!!
Cos' They're NOTHING Like Lionel's... !!!
Whose Ethics Have Shown...
How They REALLY Should Roll... !!!
Barcelona Now KNOWS... !!!
That His Ethics Are Those...
That Are Worthy of GOLD...
Just Like RONALDINHO'S... !!!
Cos The Ethics HE Showed... !!!
ALSO... Did AMAZE... !!!
In HIS Playing Days... !!!!!
And Those Are The Type...
I Display In The Rhymes...
That I Now Sit And Write...
In Volumes And VOLUMES...
With Ethics That Choose...
To Yes REJECT NONSENSE... !!!
Cos My Ethics... HOVER ………..
... WAY ABOVE Problems... !!!
Because My Form of Soccer...
Shoots Just Like Revolvers...
And Drones Used As Bombers... !!!
And As For These Coppers... !!!
Their Ethics Are SHOCKERS...
That Require NO WORDS...
Because They’re ABSURD... !?!
UNLIKE Spoken Word Verse...
That Comes From Big Virge... !!!
That Yes DESERVES CREDIT... !!!
For NOT BEING PATHETIC... !!!
Because It's EXPRESSIVE...
And Somewhat Impressive...
Because It's... INJECTED...
With HIGH MORAL Values...
And Being AUTHENTIC... !!!
Which Is Why It's ALIGNED To...
...... DISCIPLINED.....
........... “ ETHICS “.......... !!!
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 3:14 AM UTC
there is nothing more abhorrent from a teenage girl binge drinking on a saturday, than a repentant alcoholic... hey, you signed up to it, you pre-planned the whole thing like w. burroughs advised (plan your addiction), there's no point feeling better about being sober again to please institutionalism of some kind, going down the anonymous route.
in england people stress the need
for a garden, but seldom use it,
they buy a house in want of a garden
(preferably a semi-detached
to add to the heating costs),
although they do use it, perhaps once
in a while, in the summer,
as a luxury with the barbecue
as if an australian in swahililand;
god what terrible frosts this autumn,
all my vines shrivelled up and took
to being wrinkly, which meant i didn't
end up making the usual yield of 12
bottles of wine like last year.
p.s. plus london is going to the highest
bidder, some arab or rich african
family member of colonel gaddafi's
ancestry... which means a third of my
generation end up flushing money
down the drain / pocket of some landlord,
or end up living with their parents...
but as the newspaper headlines read:
CHEAP HOMES UP NORTH BUT NO JOBS,
ONLY THOSE EARNING £100,000 A YEAR
CAN AFFORD A HOME;
added to the fact that not enough houses
are being built, the best council houses
in west london go to muslim hate preachers
with seven kids and two wives;
**** up went the world... but i get the
perspective... the polish nobility sold off
the land during the three partitions of poland,
in england the nobility are just selling
bricks and carpets, and in this weird
way say the things that jews said
when they were in poland: was(z)e ulice,
nas(z)e kamienice (your streets, our stone masonry);
thank god for global warming,
i might just end up sleeping under a palm
tree should things get really serious around here.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
The young guy turns
towards Bill
in the single bed;
his blue eyes
are as innocent
as cheese.
I thought you
were a gonna
back at that bar,
the young guy says.
Bill sighs, moves up
in the bed, getting
the young guy
into focus.
But you took them out
before I could blink,
the young guy adds.
One has to weigh out
the ends and means,
Bill says.
But you're an old guy,
I thought that was it.
Bill reaches
for a cigarette
from the bedside table
and opens it
and takes out one
and offers,
but the young guy
shakes his head,
so Bill lights up
and puffs away.
You **** good.
The youth blushes,
looks at Bill,
then away
at the room.
Small, Spartan,
few bits of furniture,
few belongings.
You live here?
Now and then.
Where'd you live mostly?
Out of a suitcase.
The young guy
stares at Bill.
What was your job?
Government business.
C.I.A or FBI?
Can't say
or if I did
I’d have to **** you.
The young guy
begins to smile,
but Bill doesn't,
the youngster
stops smiling.
Something like that,
though?
Something like that.
The youth
nods his head.
Did you meet
any one famous?
Bill exhales
and stares at the kid.
I knew the Kennedys,
met Saddam and Gaddafi
and other creeps like that.
The youth opens
his eyes wide.
Really knew them?
Bill nods, looks away.
I knew them;
now they're all dead.
Who killed JFK?
Bill smiles;
can't tell you,
but you'll
find out one day.
Did you?
Bill shook his head;
no I was just
a young novice then;
I met Jack K
in a passage way
in the Big House,
back in 1962;
he tapped my shoulder,
had a nice smile,
liked the dames.
The kid looks
at Bill deeply.
Were you sad
when JFK died?
I don't get sad
about things,
I survive
and move on;
now no more questions,
get me a coffee
and then
we can get back
to bed work again.
The young guy
nods his head,
gets up and goes
to the small kitchen
and makes two coffees;
on a wall,
pinned by a single pin
is a picture
of a blonde girl
and underneath
is scrawled in red ink:
innocent or guilty:
what do you think?
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
They say we free but are we really free or modern slaves in a plantation tied with invisible mental chains, prisoned to the golden fantasies of a spiritual dimension encoded in a book of light
Our ancestors are demonised in the name of
And our God given dark magic is victimized
As a spiritual sin to an invisible alien sky God
They enforced brutally on the true God's of Alkebulan
Are we really free when spiritually we are still conquered
Will the God who created us fight for us or against us
They took our land
They ***** our women
Took our wild stock
For themselves
And killed our men
Sailed some of the boys
To the new world
Through the altantic
Where some of them were served
As food to creatures of the ocean
Some drowning themselves
For freedom in the spiritual world
Our mother we're left
Widowed & pregnant
To innocent souls
Committed painful sinfully
Tell me are we free when we went trough such
Without reparations
The Jews got it for Hitler's genocide
And others they managed to rebuild
Tell me are we free
Are we free when the DRC is still being exploited
For her minerals & it's war all over
Are we free when the Arabs claim Egyptian history as theirs and opress the true dark pharoas
Are we free when Sudan is in the mist
Of a religious war
It Muslims v Christians
Brotherhood no longer matters
Libya is involved in slave trades
Nigeria is troubled by rebels
South Africa is involved in Afrophobia
Tell me Africa are we really free ?
In the Dispora you had Garvey
Malcom X
Dr Khalid
What did you do with them asks
Dr Clarke ?
They took out Nkrumah
Assassinated Lumumba
Victimized Mugabe
& Exiled Zimbabwe from the world
Destroying our bread & basket
Hunger became a ghost that haunting
The people of Zimbabwe & still does
They Killed Machel
& So died the future of a prosperous Mozambique
They silenced Gaddafi
& Libya became a war Zone
So died the dreams of a United Africa with him
lied about Idi Amin
Shaked Ethopia
Failed in Somalia
And institutionalized the most
Punishious & brutal regime
To the people of the South
Tell me Africa are we free when heavent really dealt with all this trauma
Tell me Africa are we free ?
Tell me are We free ?
Or are we still in *******
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
language has to remain
a medium of escapism...
the world is already an
Alcatraz...
and you don't hear it
loud enough, these days:
otherwise we'll all be
procrastinating before
a hierarchy led by a crown,
and diluted ditto-heads...
we are, actually, living
in times of a non-existent
authority...
i'd have more freedom
if governed by a Gaddafi...
everyone these days seems
to want to overlord the world...
i can't pardon
this authoritarian circumstance
of the individual...
i can't...
we'll not even meet
at the local grocery store,
and here we are,
gang-fucking the medium
of albino,
this canvas was once
a circumstance of surrender...
these days it has become
a laceration...
a testimony
forwarding grief,
and a dozen gobs leeching
a smacker from baron knuckle;
should arithmetic be forgotten
when it comes to counting to four grooves
scandilising the pampered cheek.
and yes: that's violence,
but that's not me: strapped to a suicide vest
crying out ummah! in Istambul.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 11:10 AM UTC