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"gratia" poems
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
END MONTHS CONSUMERISM
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
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30
Thank you everyone for an amazing year, to all my followers, friends, and fellow poets/poetess! You guys are all real poets to the core, and just awesome overall. You have always made my day, and gave me something to look forward to after every tiring and shtty day. So this is my thank you so very much to all you fckin sympa, incredible, and marvelous colleagues! All you're words mean a lot and have helped me everyday. Thank You! Dankie! Shukran! Do je! Hvala! Dìkuji! Tak! Aitäh! Vinaka! Salamat! Kiitos! Merci! Danke! Efcharisto! Mahalo! Toda! Shukriya! Terima Kasih! Grazie! Domo, Arigató! Kamsa hamnida! Gratia! Achiu! Xie xie! Takk! Aguije! Dziêkujê! Obrigado! Hvala! Mulþumesc! Gracias! Asante! Tack! Khop Khun Krab! Cam on! Jerejef! Diolch! A (shaynem) dank! Maita Henyu! Dhanyabad!
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
THANK YOU AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Was this His coming! I had hoped to see A scene of wondrous glory, as was told Of some great God who in a rain of gold Broke open bars and fell on Danae: Or a dread vision as when Semele Sickening for love and unappeased desire Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire Caught her brown limbs and slew her utterly: With such glad dreams I sought this holy place, And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand Before this supreme mystery of Love: Some kneeling girl with passionless pale face, An angel with a lily in his hand, And over both the white wings of a Dove.
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Ave Maria Gratia Plena
II Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora L’herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco, Ben e colui d’ogni valore scarco Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora, Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora De suoi atti soavi giamai parco, E i don’, che son d’amor saette ed arco, La onde l’ alta tua virtu s’infiora. Quando tu vaga parli, O lieta canti Che mover possa duro alpestre legno, Guardi ciascun a gli occhi ed a gli orecchi L’entrata, chi di te si truova indegno; Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti Che’l disio amoroso al cuor s’invecchi.
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Sonnet 02
my eyes, too blind from the light of hell to see pray for you to choke the blasphemy out of me ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae you misread my plea and loosen your holy grip and more sins spill from my ****** lips ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae my tongue is heavy with heresy but still i babble hypocrisy ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae amen
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
angels and demons
We were west of the Azores, Five days out of New York, when we spotted the Mary Celeste. She was listing to Leeward But still under sail with no obvious sign of distress. Briggs, Her captain, I knew as a man good and true And his shipmates were capable men. We hailed, but no answer, So I send men aboard To find out what had become of them. Her cargo intact, just one lifeboat gone And a rope that trailed aft in the sea. Something had caused them To abandon their ship but why was a mystery to me. There are storms on the Ocean As winter draws near; A sea grave was their likely fate Or else they were drifting Ever farther from shore with nothing to eat on their plates. I gave thanks to God’s grace that cold, indifferent Fate’s bony fingers had not touched on me and I wept for my friends of the Mary Celeste who would never come home from the sea.
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Dei Gratia
it is nothing I could begin to say to you for it came to be without words without sound but not quiet it was with the sound of something as you look upon it The hum of tiny waves shadow not shadow and the space beneath, that is to say, between life without a need to be without purpose, failure and not failure so close together because (finally I saw) they are not separate it was steps that unfolded to infinity around the block and around again (sic transit gloria mundi) it was arms swinging like pendulums past ribcage clock faces waving away the concept of time In this small corner of the world it was saying thank you for handing me over to solitude and meaning it dying in order to let me heal you it was following the jet trails with fingertips touching them like you taught me to it was letting the poetry come in and pass through and move off not holding it in, anymore When I learned for the first time, to write. it was when I heard something behind me it was I am. it was when I drove on the freeway and the cloud broke and we passed out into the sunlight at 67 miles per hour, even though I was alone when I was disturbed with the thought today (dei gratia) I am happy to be alive. Green was your favorite color.
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Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 3:23 PM UTC
green.
Christmas Eve mass The Ave Maria begins to play Images start to run through my mind Some of now and some not of this time Ave Maria I see the Manger before me with our dear Lord as a babe It quickly switches to a stranger letting her babe be aborted away *Gratia plena Maria, gratia plena Maria, gratia plena* I see our Lord speak of peace Then see our soldiers defending another's keep *Ave, ave dominus Dominus tecum* I hear the mortar shells as they fly through the air I hear our soldiers whisper their prayers *Benedicta tu in muli eribus Et benedictus Et benedictus fructus ventris* I see Jesus take someone in Only then to see someone not give a second look at the homeless man *Ventris tuae, Jesus Ave Maria* A mother and child searching for shelter Dressed only in thin clothes in a harsh winter *Ave Maria Mater Dei Ora pro nobis peccatoribus Ora pro nobis Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus* I see Him hung upon the cross To now seeing a man beheaded for proclaiming his Christianity is not lost *Nunc et in hora mortis Et in hora mortis nostrae Et in hora mortis nostrae Et in hora mortis nostrae Ave Maria* The song has now ended and my eyes are wet The tears I let fall all for remembrance Lest us not forget
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Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Ave Maria
I cut thee so much ******* slack ex gratia and yet, as a reward, I know only of thy bitter indignation. What virtues hath thy Mother instilled in thee; Abuse? Contempt? Entitlement? If so, she did a job second only to none How do you sleep? Do thy injurious ways simply go unobserved by thee, or doth thou rather play a Politician upon the Stage that is thy Mind? No longer is ex gratia an option; however, this ex animo writing doth indeed seem inevitable. Were thy conscience again to be my Jury, I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for a fair verdict.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
Ex Gratia
Je te chante A toute heure Religieusement Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame Je te les chante en latin à matines Ave Maria Plena Gratia Je te les chante à laudes Tota pulchra es amica Je te chante en latin les petites heures, les heures de pucelle Je te les chante à prime Regina caeli letare Je te les chante à tierce Benedicta es tu filia Je te les chante à sexte Obsecro te domina sancta Maria, Mater dei, pietate plenissima Je te les chante à none O intemerata et in eternum benedicta Je te chante en latin les grandes heures, les donzelles Je te les chante à vêpres Alleluia Hosanna Musa Benedicta tu in Musis Je te les chante à complies Salve Regina Mater misericordiae vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve Et dans le silence de ma cellule Noire et blanche Je te renouvelle Après l'office des complies Sans antiphonaire et sans graduel Mes voeux d'humilité, de pauvreté et chasteté Ecoute la prière grégorienne De ton moine cistercien, ton baryton orthodoxe, Ton serviteur, ton esclave, ton Musc Nu et sincère sans habit et sans scapulaire Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:31 AM UTC
Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame !
the next great poet walks among us without a halo or unearthly glow she might post daily or he might write in bursts they might be ringing up your groceries, or making your non-fat double decaf latte with splenda (smiling to themselves and saying "why bother" under their breath) mostly they stand bodies distracted by making a living and watch so their poet's eye can record life in a way that makes some sense to their souls
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
Ars Gratia Artis
Light steps commence at sun’s first ray, And thus begins the dance today. Your presence beckons me from sleep In perfect step, I try to keep. —— And though you lead me soft and slow, Missteps, each, begin to show, The little lie, the lustful glance, Reveal the stumbles in our dance. —— But though I trip with every fall You keep me spinning through it all. Behold my flaws! There is no trace! For all are hid in perfect grace.
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Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
Chorus Gratia
Ave, Maria, gratia plena. Oh ! votre oeil est timide et votre front est doux. Mais quoique, par pudeur ou par pitié pour nous, Vous teniez secrète votre âme, Quand du souffle d'en haut votre coeur est touché, Votre coeur, comme un feu sous la cendre caché, Soudain étincelle et s'enflamme. Élevez-là souvent cette voix qui se tait. Quand vous vîntes au jour un rossignol chantait ; Un astre charmant vous vit naître. Enfant, pour vous marquer du poétique sceau, Vous eûtes au chevet de votre heureux berceau Un dieu, votre père peut-être ! Deux vierges, Poésie et Musique, deux soeurs, Vous font une pensée infinie en douceurs ; Votre génie a deux aurores, Et votre esprit tantôt s'épanche en vers touchants, Tantôt sur le clavier, qui frémit sous vos chants, S'éparpille en notes sonores ! Oh ! vous faites rêver le poète, le soir ! Souvent il songe à vous, lorsque le ciel est noir, Quand minuit déroule ses voiles ; Car l'âme du poète, âme d'ombre et d'amour, Est une fleur des nuits qui s'ouvre après le jour Et s'épanouit aux étoiles ! Décembre 1830.
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À Madame Marie M
Todo en ella encantaba, todo en ella atraía su mirada, su gesto, su sonrisa, su andar... El ingenio de Francia de su boca fluía. Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría. ¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar! Ingenua como el agua, diáfana como el día, rubia y nevada como Margarita sin par, el influjo de su alma celeste amanecía... Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría. ¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar! Cierta dulce y amable dignidad la investía de no sé qué prestigio lejano y singular. Más que muchas princesas, princesa parecía: era llena de gracia como el Avemaría. ¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar! Yo gocé del privilegio de encontrarla en mi vía dolorosa; por ella tuvo fin mi anhelar y cadencias arcanas halló mi poesía. Era llena de gracia como el Avemaría. ¡Quien la vio, no la pudo ya jamás olvidar! ¡Cuánto, cuánto la quise! ¡Por diez años fue mía; pero flores tan bellas nunca pueden durar! ¡Era llena de gracia, como el Avemaría, y a la Fuente de gracia, de donde procedía, se volvió... como gota que se vuelve a la mar!
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Iii. gratia plena
she gave me rueful look in a pretty dress a spirit i couldnt escape sitting in a place of honor springs bubbled among jumbled boulders headed west on a rutted road we sat in silence for a minute i took a breath and said nothing silence i stared i recalled a gleam below dreams a small flame perfectly warm we were silent i picked up a piece of twig architecture without glamour ars gratia artist tiny butterfly serene and stunning traversed the main route traced the curving line of the mountain deliberately she had met me on the backporch as if it were the center stage of a theater she hovering nearby tracing lines landmarks
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Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
heaven and earth
Exampli gratia: Here, in the sun, looking straight forward over the green lawn onto the bacciferous frondescence The space between the building where psychopathology was taught and the building where our intelligence was tested – buildings made unsafe and marred and subjected to presence – Here, I just am; there is no absence As far as my eyes can see, the “where” is here and the “when” is now and I am alone, listening in to today A bee flies by and draws my eye to the peripheral timescape Inside the dark window to the left we sit in silence and wait for a pre-school class to walk past so we can continue a lesson that ended a year ago Behind me looms the auditorium where we partook in curiosity Beyond this greenth, you own the space But on this bench, there is no absence Here, I can breathe, lone as I am
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May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
Finding New Spaces Where There is No Absence