"goliaths" poems
Can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? The waves have been a teacher with more wisdom than any I have ever had before. Something so constant, so committed, so unflappable as the lapping or crashing of the waves upon the shore. If you need any evidence of her relentless nature, look no further than the foreshore, great boulders and cliff faces worn down to grit. A true mechanical entity, with precise surety, well versed in engineering, mathematics, weather patterns and fluid dynamics. Who would have thought a philosophical question would have an engineering solution? The answer is no, but the question lacks precision, it doesn't quite paint the picture as it happens. I dive into the crashing waves, stretched out long, offering no resistance, the wash thunders around me but still I glide forward in the water like a shark, no resistance. I am the immovable object. Suspended weightless I overcome the unstoppable force by holding ground, offering no resistance as it rages around and past me, trying to capsize me or push me backwards. The way of the seas, the ultimate peacemaker.
The parallels to life do not need pointing out thus, especially to those who fight for justice, the Davids versus their Goliaths. History's great peacemakers have been here before, the art of war is in passive resistance, principled adherence coupled with civil disobedience, your silence is considered tacit acceptance, so be not silent but give unto Caesar that which is Caesars. The fight is an uphill playing field, you must play by their rules, or the game is over, but you can win by their rules if you know where they bend. So stand peacemakers, face rows of riot shields, plow fields as Te Whiti did, collect salt as Gandhi, be not silent, tip toe that fine line between real change and hard time, wherever you see injustice speak, and seek conciliation. Peace is not achieved when nations put down their guns, peace is achieved when people embrace their neighbors as their brothers and sisters. It is achieved when people no longer speak of peace with longing in the same breath as cursing the person that parked in their carpark. Be peace and you will see peace, wish not to see it in the world if you cannot be it in your world. Change yourself and the world changes with you. So can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? That much is up to you.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
The sun, a heavy spider, spins in the thirsty sky.
The wind hides under cactus leaves, in doorway corners. Only the wry
Small shadow accompanies Hamlet-Petrouchka's march - the slight
Wry sniggering shadow in front of the morning, turning at noon, behind towards night.
The plumed cavalcade has passed to tomorrow, is lost again;
But the wisecrack-mask, the quick-flick-fanfare of the cane remain.
Diminuendo of footsteps even is done:
Only remain, Don Quixote, hat, cane, smile and sun.
Goliaths fall to our sling, but craftier fates than these
Lie ambushed - malice of open manholes, strings in the dark and falling trees.
God kicks our backsides, scatters peel on the smoothest stair;
And towering centaurs steal the tulip lips, the aureoled hair,
While we, craned from the gallery, throw our cardboard flowers
And our feet **** to tunes not played for ours.
2.6k
I am not a carnivore
but a ****** man eating
the flesh of the baboons.
Colonies of monkeys in
awe watching David in
enterprising exploits slaying
Goliaths in heroism of liberty
for equity.
It'll not be long when the night'll
break into day of freedom when the baboons will leave the bananas for the monkeys.
Till this ugly night of injustice turns a summer day of freedom when all sieging clouds are cleared, it's war!
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 2:48 AM UTC
I was there before the beginning
Before the conception of time and space,
when nothing was everything
and everything was nothing.
In vain I waited for you to materialize
from the ether of emptiness
But you never came.
So there I stood, waiting...
I was there at the beginning
At the conception of time and space
when everthing came from nothing.
I saw the sun, or that condescent
swirling cloud of dust that was
to be the sun.
I saw the earth, a miniscule ball
of molten, boiling, writhing anger
I was there when everything, but
you emerged from nothing.
So there I stood, waiting...
I was there at the edge of an
undulating mass of the pimordial ooze,
that sea of everything and nothing.
I saw pleaseasaur ribbon its long,
shiny, black body through the fathomless
depths of the sea
Searching, as was I, for something.
I saw stegasaur, that lumbering
hulk of muscle and scale
take its first precarious
steps onto land
looking, as was I, for something.
Every creature, but one-the one
I wanted, stepped forth
from that roiling soup.
But you never came.
So there I stood, waiting...
I was there when neanderthal
first discovered fire.
I saw that temptress dance
across the contours of his rough,
wind hewn face.
I saw his eyes sparkle as
he and I gazed longingly
into the yellow, red dancer's lair.
Both searching for something
or someone.
I stared and stared hoping
to catch the slightest glimmer
of your eyes.
But you never came.
so there I stood, waiting...
I was there when Egypt and Rome
first peeped their heads
from the cold ground surrounding their feet.
I was there as those stone goliaths, pyramids,
grew block by block
layer by layer
stretching, reaching, longing for heaven's basement.
Just as I longed for you.
I saw Rome's aquaducts,
seemingly endless terracota snakes,
slicing through the eons
blindly feeling for something.
Just as I searched for you
hoping you were searching for me.
But you never came.
So there I stood, waiting...
I was there when we almost killed
the human race, for the second time.
I stood at the entrance to Auschwitz
scanning the multitude of
worn, sullen,destitute face
hoping, praying you weren't there.
Thank God you weren't there.
So there I stood, waiting...
I am here.
In a cold place made of lifeless,
emotionless steal and glass.
I watched as heartless obelisks
devoured the cozy bricks of ancient
neighborhoods. Signaling the undaunted
march of father time.
His harried pace, defies his antiquated frame,
drains my fortitude.
but step for step
night and day
day in and day out
I will wait for you.
So here I stand, waiting...
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
*He lets me get broke...
Just to make me richer
He lets me get weak...
Just to make me stronger
He lets me look foolish...
Just to express His wisdom.
He crushes mighty-warlord Goliaths
With a shepherd boy, a sling and a stone!
He frightens entire Syrian armies
With four lepers, no RPGs, no riffles!
He teaches kings "Humility For Dummies"
By making ***** out of Nebuchadnezzars.
I ponder some of the things He does
Terrible! But I find them amusing
And while I chuckle at His wondrous works
I'm reminded that He loves me dearly
And He added a touch of humor to the bible
To express His lovely smile on my unworthy face!*
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Somewhere beneath the broad darkness
and the landslide, there’s a pocket
of nothingness, like the air bubbles
that oxygenate red wine. And somewhere
inside that, there I am,
mime-hands loving Stevie Smith
and all she stood for. A void
is just a void, and a poem
is just a poem, no matter how
you read it. You can bring this
into the church and line it up with the stained glass,
looking for a hidden meaning,
but I know this nothingness intimately,
like I know soft skin and the taste of *****
and there is nothing to be found in there
that isn’t already inside you, except
maybe warmth and candlelight
and the idea that nothing is too far gone
to not be saved anymore. Sometimes,
I think people intentionally obscure what they mean,
like they’re not good enough for a line break,
and like it’ll be easier to rationalise being left behind
if they were limping from the start of the race
anyway. Anyway. Sorry about this;
sorry about all of this, I just really like how it looks
when you try to work any of this out.
Because it looks dismal. It looks like a pregnant
sundial churning out another day,
another day that might be Sunday,
but it also might not. It’s not like I know.
I think this stopped being a poem a few lines ago
and started being something to burn, instead,
but you can take the smallest of lighters
to the mightiest of Goliaths and they’ll scream
all the same. I heard that lobsters scream
if you put them in boiling water whilst they’re still alive.
I feel like that sometimes.
I don’t know if I’m the lobster or the water,
most days. I think I know now.
I think I know something, now,
at least.
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 7:10 PM UTC
On late the by-lanes one night,
unusual spot I green, a bottle
like any, but for words, may be,
on the label printed:
'Old wine. Hamlin. Best before: the future'
Scarred, the mouth, to fire
a rocket used, ringing in a day
when celebrating, a hero,
Goliaths thumped by a David new.
Hope, on the horizon, the word rising.
Threw it away, almost I, when
reversed comes, rolled up a parchment,
by ash burned, from the ******* a part:
a mix strange of clippings and retort.
Marked, astonished, the date, I: was it
from today, even of TV, a listings part;
'...mesmerized by the language of hope';
'Parks fill up as people gather to celebrate';
'Our democracy is alive and how'.
Of proportions messianic, news frothing
how new born, a leader is. Familiar all :
myself now, from one such, returning.
But curious, written, the words indeed:
*'Monuments wear and rivers thin,
as boatmen sing the evening song,
miracle-workers and peddlers of
honey and mead, pipers at the gates
of dawn, not men of mettle and deed'*
Of a piper, suddenly, as in a fantasy
a song, and heard I, helpless, wails
of mothers, a hundred .
Strained, to read, further my eye,
when tore up the piece;
Broke up green, a bottle on the street.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
The night they shot Dr King, Stokely Carmichael pulled the pin out from the grenade in his heart and made ******* sure the world knew he and his brothers would never be weak again,
The night they shot Malcolm X, the liberals shook their heads, clicking tongues about how "violence begets violence", and sometime later they put his face on a stamp, taught his corpse to dance, taught their children that this is the fate of a man who never gives up trying to change the world
The night that Missouri burned down they sent in the tanks, steel goliaths prowled small town streets looking for anybody black, or angry, or conscious, or any combination of the three, and every time their guns went off a new revolutionary was born in rage and desperation
Who are your comrades gonna be when the cops kick down the door?
Who are your comrades gonna be when the drug raids come?
Who are your comrades gonna be when the crowd control rounds turn to live ammunition?
Who are your comrades gonna be when the talking heads condemn the martyrs to hell on a twenty four hour newsreel?
Who are your comrades gonna be when the streets split open and the riot swallows everything in its wake?
Who are your comrades gonna be when the prisons crumble brick by brick?
Who are your comrades gonna be when it all burns down?
Who are your comrades gonna be when we rebuild this world from the ground up into something beautiful?
When they tell you, "Do not resist"
Resist
When they tell you, "Your methods are too extreme"
Tell them, "By any means necessary"
When they tell you, "This is the way things are"
Change. Everything.
When they tell you, "You can't change the world alone"
Tell them, "Solidarity, forever"
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 3:29 AM UTC
We're just becoming adults.
We're on the cusp of the rest of our lives.
Only two more months before we can leave this town and never look back,
Or to make this town our own and rule it how we want.
We can be unstoppable, pursuing our greatest passions and never giving up.
Do what you've always wanted to do now; they will be great stories in the end.
Do them today or else a year from now you'll be wishing you did.
Never forget where you came from.
There will be hardships - Goliaths trying to knock us down - but we will rise stronger than ever.
We may lose touch down the road, but remember it wasn't by choice.
Life just got in the way - university, careers, family are in store for us and they aren't bad for coming between us.
We've had many good adventures together, and all adventures must come to an end sometime.
Remember that you will always be on my mind; I love you now and forever; I will be hoping that your childhood dreams came true.
The next chapter of our beautiful story starts now.
Our future is here.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
glass goliaths steal food from the poor without voices
to feed fat pockets.
eat the rich.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
I want to plunge into the azure sky
And bathe in the dawn's light,
I'll disperse like a mist of vapors
Vanishing into the ocean's mirror.
I want to sit on the roaring goliaths
Of volcanoes and towering sierras,
Cradled by a stream of clouds
Serenaded by mysterious hums.
I want to dance in the breeze
Of frigid winters and blazing summers,
Play with the flickering bolts
And sing with the rolling thunders.
I want to sleep under Luna's *****
Beneath a blanket of a million stars,
As I dream of storms in the Pacific
Or the Auroras in the Arctic.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
In the crisp of morning, does edge of rest approach. For in the tents of great men do the warriors awaken in preparation for battle.
Sharpening their swords, fortifying their shields, girding their spears and dawning their armours - a crest for honour. Though amid the steadiness, do they await the word of their beloved monach.
"Sar-Shalom!" be the cries heard, echoeing upon the voices of the wind. Reaching even beyond the battlefields. The name of the monach, adored by the great men, anticipating the words to come.
Alas, wisdom comes on the voice of the wind: "In the vallies, will you victories come". Bewildered they stood, asking themselves "why?" But, their monach adorned in their love does their loyalty stand.
So, to the vallies do they march. Upon the word do they stand, anticipation honoured by their trust. For a hard battle will they fight, yet a grand victory will they know - a relief from their beloved.
From the peaks do they descend, and to the vallies do they arrive. The battlefield marked for honour by their seeing eyes;
Unsheathing are they ready, for the accusers come - but unexpecting are they, for the assurance declared in the meeting of blades.
The divines surrounding their accusers, is the battle endorsed for the victors. As they cut down even their final Goliaths. In the praises given up on the voices of the wind, does Sar-Shalom hear the chants - His great men, now the victories of Eden.
Now the journey do they cherish, in returning to their home. The tents of great men, now victories on the heights. What more shall be done? But to sing in glee. For the enemies borders are lost in the restoring victory.
Their wounds shall heal, and bruises shall fade, but the songs of glee shall ring out through time, eternal;
Oh, the voices of the winds chant forever "Victory in the Vallies!"
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 8:36 PM UTC
I should eat
a cake to celebrate my victories
over inherited Goliaths.
Instead my face is gaunt,
stoneless and lacking heroism,
while my mind starves for nutrients
I should eat.
Because this was my dream,
a house no one can enter
filled with unshared favorites.
I stare into the stove
yearning to climb in and sleep
I should eat.
To stop the searing in my chest
the quaking of my hands
the static in my ears
as I stare into the stove
yearning to climb in and sleep.
I should eat.
How long have I been here?
Shoulder bruised on linoleum,
cooling as I lie here
staring into the stove
yearning to climb in and sleep
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 4:17 PM UTC
*Hour of terse movement and ambiguity
Gales rushing to secure their invisible voids
Anchored Goliaths pressure their manacles in turbulent , leaf -
revealed vortices , white feather cirrus highlight the blue crown of
Mother Earth as Elven cool day chant and witchcraft mock
the dying salvos of Lord Summer* ..
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
i live in a helicopter over the city
everything too ***** to land
i see crimes from here
and i dont care
who lives
or who dies.
i see horses running races.
winners resemble losers.
the ocean is sewage
the sand is termites
the streets are drains
draining the victims.
wives and families.
the people are bobbers
to catch goliath beasts
from underneath.
they sell their bodies for *****
filthy
clothes.
to cover up
their shameful ashes.
deep down
they want what i want,
me and the goliaths;
they want to crash
and choke
and be eaten.
someone to set a fire
to clean up the mess.
a fire to clean itself.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
Use the correct perspective,
based on God’s spiritual view-
for there will be Goliaths,
standing defiantly before you.
Know that you’re His child!
Anyone can be strong, when leaning
on his relationship with Christ.
Run into the battle speaking…
against the hostile opposition,
when the situation appears grim.
Acknowledge your sacred covenant
and your divine identity in Him!
Though the enemy comes against you,
your weakness in the time of crisis
can be transformed into holy strength;
use your God-given, heavenly license.
Never allow yourself to give up;
with endurance, outlast the devil.
Pray right away- without any delay.
Don’t stoop to his character’s level.
Despite mental and physical attacks,
overcome any confusion or failures.
Now finish your divine assignment
from our triumphant and blessed Savior.
Stay focused and confess The Word!
Ignore the claims of Satan’s rants.
Remember all of your past victories!
You can confront and defeat the giants!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
1 Sam 17; Neh 4; Eph 6:10-18
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
..consequently, I do not see
the human in
Humanity.
Before I. saw what I no longer see
my mind uncluttered
my thoughts running free,
before the birth of humankind when
man and his plan
destroyed the trees,
wiped out the bees
polluted,
rerouted the ocean tides.
I no longer see the desolation,
desperation, or
see children play.
I wait for the day
I wait for the day when
I no longer hear
when the sound of the fear fades away
and when Goliaths would fall, I
won't hear them at all.
I won't hear
I won't see the
human in
Humanity.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
Here come the spitter machines
see the toxic goo that surrounds them
stand back, don't get too close
they have a tendency to spit at you
See those goliaths over there
they are The Great Manta Backs
watch the speed of their claws
they have won us many a war
I think we might need to plug up
download our next duty data receiver
I think I need a oil change
my machine is slowing down
I will recall it back to base
pull another one out of the hunger
I will download my data
then off into the big blue again
My eye implant is playing up
I can't bring my drone home
she's going down
god she's going down
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC