"godfathers" poems
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
We live the life
pined with sores
battling the battle
in a defeated
hope
out of lacks
we've known
plenty of yawns
in a helpless
battle where
none prevails
but travail
the future of the
youth of the land
is but buried in
the arms of
corruption
we run,more
haste less speed
the ambitious
youth becomes
enslaved to
unrewarded
efforts
but clothed in
gowns of
discouragement
we want to learn
we want to read
we want to write
we want to
speak and be
heard
but the road to
learning is
blocked
by them that are
known by
godfathers
who shall lead
us by the hand
to cross this
ocean that
opens its mouth
wide
to swallow all of
our effort,all of
our zeal.all of
our enthusiasm
which hope lie
for us?
When shall we
know reward
for our efforts?
When shall
success
breakforth to
harvest us all
that searched
diligently?
When???
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Blood-dark days and lilies in bloom,
the knife, the gun, the operatic end—
all goodfellas and grandfathers,
all godfathers and millionaires
at yet another Sicilian funeral.
I was young and arrogant,
I dared to walk behind a Mafia boss.
I could have taken the long way
around the circle of captains he sat among,
but I didn’t—he felt my presence.
He turned, slow, deliberate.
The look he cast my way
haunts me to this very day.
It was as if the dead man’s eyes
opened in the boss’s stare,
and I was staring at a cold, dead soul,
staring back at me,
and at another funeral—my own.
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 2:57 PM UTC
Dictators topple like dominoes
tombstones taunt contemporary caesars
godfathers hut tilled dough bro’s united against
inalienable rights of life, liberty pursuit of
happiness, mushroom left for overthrow
sans oppression from pepper spray
minor deterrent whence tyrants *******
keyed up, high strung Bouzouki plucking
commoners coalescing into commanding
communal cascade overturning ramparts
memorializing despots egoistic fiefdoms
whereby fealty forced from feckless fiends
fleecing freedoms forcing fake obeisance
until recently when contagion to overthrow
more than a coup pull of heinous henchmen
in tandem with their supreme leader
whose brutish nasty reign of terror
shortened from lengths of courage
displayed by humble beings fed up
with deprivation of basic democratic filaments
pollinating regimes thumbing nose at human rights
suddenly caught in cross hairs of barreling madding crowd
thwarting heart of darkness with native sun shine
seeking revenge against injustice heaped against innocent
populace which near global spontaneity
serves well-deserved just desserts!
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
A Poem On A Failed State
......
Do you know my country
Where the leaders of tomorrow
Are wallowing in perpetual sorrow
Where the rulers selfishly borrow
To make our future hopelessly hollow?
Don't you know my country
Where "light" is never available
And potable water is not achievable
Where good roads are not sustainable
And security is woefully unattainable?
Tell me you know my country
Where corruption is applauded
And lies and failed promises lauded
Disregard for the rule of law is flaunted
And oppositions are relentlessly haunted
I am sure you know my country
Where hopes and aspirations die
As they feed us with this rotten pie
Cos today's failure sits on yesterday's lies
Chained to a bad system we cannot untie
Now you must know my country
Where we build places of worship
Rather than developing entrepreneurship
Where those who do not sow reap
While the suffering masses weep
What's the name of my country
Where education and health suffer
To satisfy the avarice of law makers
And past leaders continue to plunder
Under the guise of being godfathers?
.............
© Max Ese Anderson 17/06/2020
IG: www.instagram.com/maximo4real
FB: www.facebook/maxeseanderson
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
metal music, notably a genre most effective
at brain massaging, or easing
a headache... pardon me, though,
through all the screaming i am sure
I misheard something, notably on
<slipknot's> eyeless...
not that i'll actually check the lyrics,
but I'm pretty sure they're not:
**you can't see California without
Marlon Brando's eyes**...
there goes playing music backwards
trying to find devilish messages
in the godfathers of the 70s,
there it goes, out the window
with the piano and the pianist still
playing it (yes, the piano) -
*you can't see California without
Marlon Brando's eyes*...
it would make sense, coming from
a bunch of Iowans;
as I'm sure that some would call
that masochism, id est:
easing a headache, conjured by
a strained bladder from
a decent night's sleep...
massaging the brain with
music by a cohort of banshees;
hell, whatever the original lyrics,
*you can't see California without
Marlon Brando's eyes* sounds a lot better.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC