"herders" poems
Corpse dangles from tree by snapped-twig neck,
innards spilled out from stomach like rotten raspberries,
nothing but stick-figure hang man.
Simon Iscariot's tears fall beside blood and water
that pours from your abdomen,
similar to the emulsion
from the spear-wound in Jesus. Christ
gave you the highest honor:
that of making all
ancient parchment
statements true.
They were then hidden away for centuries in dry clay pots
in musty caves of sheep-herders.
Father lowers you down
the greatest of care
to the arms of
Pieta' Mother.
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
alt. i.e.:
never give a monotheism to
the egyptians -
those ******* pseudo Nubian
camel herders know
jack-shit about
the value of encoding
sounds (can't match the mandarin,
their pictographic
became extinct like
the neanderthals) - or to put it
for a milder palette: here's
Ra's rhubarb... and here's
Gengen-Wer... now
match-up the rhino horn
to the donkey's tail
and the elephants trunk
with five blindfolded men...
they should be happy to have
a logic named after them,
happily dancing into Egyptology...
you get the picture,
i know the Mamluks defeated
the stinking horde of Genghis...
but i'd hardly think it necessary
to export Islam into africa to
get some sense on the matter -
look what happened when
christianity was exported from
egypt (the nag hammadi library
found by a shepherd in Osama's caves);
exporting Islam into north Africa
and hence further west
created the Shiah schism where
Islam belonged (in the east);
beware the setting sun;
believe me, it's personal, i'm not
******* on or burning flags
for the Cairo taxi driver to mind...
this is bedroom secrets' anathema.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Electron herders,
that's us. It began
earnestly late 20th century.
The first organic computers
using polymerase and ADP
came later. Weaponry
via numbers, words
magically appearing,
telepathy. Measurements
in which the last significant digit
is the Other. However
immediately depleted
our resources were,
antibiotics were always at the ready.
Forgetting what we knew,
reverting to austerity
because in times of prosperity
we forgot to be austere.
It's the uncertainty principle
taken to the nth degree
where the bad god resides,
Zeus, passionate, confused, obtuse.
Yes, we are electron herders
matter gatherers and shapers
of our time. Cancerous
cysts, irrational exuberance,
collective experience, experiments
gone well or wrong,
we were trying all along
to last forever. Flood and fire
saw to that.
Prospero was our answer
who threw his book
into the sea and wanted to be
mortal, meditative.
Find himself. We found
the world without the self
cornus to oxalis
orbitals and calculus
waves and particles
equally likely to be
within us as without us.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
Dark is the Well to the bottom of my heart
Deeper than Joseph's cistern in Dothan
Should you try to fetch a water for a drink?
Where moss and mosquitos give life and live.
Shepherds and Herders pass by and spit
Said "its a curse and empty abyss"
Yet mosquitos live and form there families
And other lifeforms here they sleep.
For them its "The Well of Life"
Though its stinks and useless for your needs
Your spit and curses can be there food
Forming new life and birth.
Foul and useless this Well maybe
But someday a Living Water will be fetched
For I heard a One Shepherd who drank and bathed in this pit
He said "I will reach this abyss and pour Living Water in it"
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
Pastries of the mind
Float like hollow driftwood,
Indulging the self-serving bind
That makes us think we are good.
It's a feasting born from birth,
"Inter urinas et faeces nascimur,"
They say, "it's the greatest shame we all endure,"
And the ******** sure won't lure with a pure cure.
They expose the submerging life preservers,
The hero of our name: the one that flips the burgers,
Fights the herders; causes, calls, and solves the murders,
All the infiniyy I could ever build and to make Her's.
With a diaper full of bricks
We are given humanity's paradox,
For in the ethereal plane we fully exist
Until the ****** bricks turn us sick.
But it's not so black and white,
Nor is it so yellow and brown.
The human creature can be beautiful
And the mind made delusional.
If we can repress our mind to find meaning,
And we can open up the chakras we're feeling,
But the world is just Black Sludge creeping,
Then why trade Protection for the real thing?
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
Nigeria my beloved home is under siege:
A death trap I see in her third mainland bridge.
The crying blood of the slain in the North-east
overwhelms vicious politicians with guilt.
Humans with hearts of beasts ravage her North-west,
outgunning her corrupt weakened armed forces.
Catacombs of mass graves quantify losses
incurred from incessant farmers-herders clash.
Darkness looms as stupendous amounts of cash
are cast in an energy sector like trash.
Her healing centres are no more than health morgues,
and her institutions breed intellectual dogs.
Her oligarchs of the six zones unify
to plunder, **** and line their pockets with filth.
With peanuts they entice poverty stricken
youths, just to have their sit-tight bids guaranteed them.
Indulgences from the gullible gratify
custodians of faith endowed with seducing lips.
My beloved Nigeria has failed to hearken
to the values of the elders before them.
With priorities misplaced, we go seeking
for stereotyped reputations in our trips
to foreign climes for filthy lucre to acquire.
Good Lord! When will values my mother-land require?
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 8:18 AM UTC
You
are a dancing
dandelion
lioness,
lounging lovely
in the liquid
sun rays,
licking power off your paws.
An audience stands
awestruck as
you
parade through town
picking primroses
to make them all
their own crowns.
Tell me
tenderly,
as we sip blackberry wine,
about tearing up
the space-time continuum
and jumping,
cannonball,
into oblivion.
You,
miss maestro,
make marvelous
mountaintop melodies,
collaborating with the
yodelers and the
midnight goat herders
as the common man
in the valley
bites mouthfuls
out of your music
to warm his belly
and bring him to bed.
You
are a fantastic
flying
fingerling potato,
finding your way
deep in the ground,
growing
outwards and beautiful,
towards the surface and the center.
Your eyebrows could level lava spewing volcanoes!
Your laughter leads lambs back to
their loving homes from
the fertile fields they roam!
You,
vivacious Venus,
waltz in from the kitchen
calling out harmonies to the song birds
and slingshotting kisses
to all of your faithful
misters and misses.
Your bag may hang heavy,
but you have so many hands to help carry it.
You,
my dear,
are the sun
beaming magnificent.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
mischief is made by those who hate all peace
and want us all within hard walls and gates
with loudest words and after harsh debates
they'll order silence and demand we cease
turbulent thoughts that challenge their caprice
command each soul into narrow estates
and keep each heart distinct from its best mates
just so that love and light may both decrease
they call it summer when they see it snow
mistake the cold for some redeeming balm
and bid us all accept the freezing rain
out of the north claiming they see it glow
with ready warmth they tell us all is calm
that all is gentle that we're past all pain
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:25 PM UTC
When I was a kid
And the family walls were falling
I remember thinking it would all be okay
If I could just learn to wall kick
Stick the landing, while the world was crumbling,
I look for applause for still standing
But the truth is they don't see you for standing strong
Just enjoy the scene when that strength is gone
Disgree, I'm asking you to prove me wrong.
Show me the story of your high school friend who made it
Not the hundred that stayed in the mould and faded
Show me the car crash that was evaded,
The hero, who's past wasn't completely exploited,
The victim that didn't end up on that stage desserted,
But no, that human nature is too perverted.
Forget the man saved, here's more on the murderer
News casters will give you the gritty details like sheep herders
Maybe your world isn't simple to fix,
Just keep working, this life has no tricks
At the end of the day, you know what makes you tick
But before the world came crashing
I learned to wall kick
So while the struggle is as real
As the wheel you steer,
keep screaming until the deaf even hear
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Light years from help, we were lost in another world called the ****
Our split-second decisions meant the difference between living or dying,
and out here, out here on the fringes, we were the law, the lions.
We had the power to end the synapses called life, it was our occupation
& it was a simple-process, the hardest part was making up your mind.
Once done, it was just a click to autopilot to slit a neck & watch the blood flow.
Goat herders & shoe shine boys, farmers & elders, all were potential enemies,
but the consequences of media could disrupt your decisions & many times it did,
it cost warriors their own lives to make clueless-others think war is bed of roses.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Society Society Society Gladstone Here you mentioned it, she met the woman, sitting at the right hand of the robot & life being the Jinn and Bob in England, our light; Offer for itself, ignorantly unknown to the knowledge and customer service of the female bobbysocks who have computerized angels of the leaves and coming into the garden are their sacrifices, prophets, to eat, in the middle - on the development of companies to enter the Star of Park, the wife of Asia, has focused on being the best revolution and Christian children near Bettie to take in the world's dining center at the heart Dumuzid [and] ancient materials to make vegetables for the first human herders Manuel, Manuel (later Ishtar). Old English, Sumerian, Dumuzid Geshtinanna and woman and goddess of the earth. The size of each of the footsteps of the Sumirian kings listed in the city of Dunezid, which was futile, and early in the morning by walking on the representative of the Prosecutor, Manuel Sumerian like Handmade Dumuzid with his hand, Manuel pees. This manual of Hell Hell blinded Doozid's death while undermining the brain, which allowed the demons to slip into small levels.
Ishtar Tammuz Canterbury Canterbury Epic 6 from the past image in the bird from the bottom of all is thrown into action. In the eyes exposed to grass in the last summer summer Dumuzid Dumuzid died, in one year. During the summer and the middle name of all the people in our state in Iraq, the noise of grief. Last year, experts have thought that you have the right to use the Summitian Old Age holiday or fall into the practice of saving a boy when Dumuzid Manuel wants to be part of the wedding.
Has a course of education given the Sumerian opportunity to be given.
And the songs for Greece Dumuzid turned to East, the West Semitic name.
And the land was, and in many parts of Mesopotamia, to the end of the nine hundred and twenty years. Many worshipers worshiped the gods Tammuz, Ezekiel, from the Hebrew Bible, and whether he moved to another position. is at the point of death. This is "death to the East, obviously that the scholars and cities ... Glorious ******* was done because of the failure of the First Way of Direction, starting from the house, which has a white throne at the bottom of the intestinal luster and his eyebrows see an example of an example that would be a pair of towels on the opposite side to pursue those who fought, showing that both of them were Wolff's writers, women, gods, by example, as it has always been a new way to increase the rights of children on the Lord's shadow, on the right hand of one who sees the image of a part of the air.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
Common instincts to us all, occurrences as we live on
rolling rrrs an' 'idin' gdhs, f' grins and grunts
'uman 'umor ta
Harvesters, Hunters, Herders,
Makers, all. That we had no war,
or none this we can imagine.
Our war is so far past
wars reasons in pasts
called
right-used, good for the goodness made
in
founding of this bubble of national pride we re
side in;
so
that we feel com
pelled - driven as a nail
to say…
Wait-- new voice
fessorial, it fesses this is fact:
ligation in obligation is samesame
ligion in religion,
okeh. a liege oath was never valid, no free re
involved entity may be ligated for a fief,
no soul sould to rock and roll promo **** crossroad
' make y'famous
moonshine story teller bribe
'bout
no spell
I don't care why, just how, for now
words picked as gem facets
flash a flection re
count
the times you've seen things
you
could would
not lieve be true, until
it happened to you right, and yeah,
it was no big deal,
like waking under a bo tree in Asia.
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
*a poet of the id
i am shame
dishonoring myself gladly
a disgrace to clean thinking people
deconstructing the ramparts of a fake me
an obsessed child
desire without conscience
an ignominious plague
a broken bower
humiliated by holding back
the knot of obedience
and the abstinence of true will
this vile canker wants a kiss
i am mortified by nobility
why aren't people ******* in the streets
piling on like dogs
squalor in heat
evoking tender squeals and howls
like ear bleeding sirens on fire
oh genitals on a dais
a new spirituality
Aeon to come
myriad of divine liberations
and a new class of powers
wrend and weary afraid
while desolation pulverizes spirit to ash
my ******** tank is full
instead of taking my life
taking back my life
from the soul herders
ghouls of liturgy
i am
high minded
about being low minded
my scurrilous badge of courage
the middle finger salute
spells freedom to flourish
have you seen death?
in the end
are we not all equal ?*
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
Ahead railway crossings boom,
I see flashing gates lower.
Tyres graze a rhythmic loom,
circles towards lie slower.
Here semi trailers ghosts sigh, overpass galloping horses
in a hurry moving sources, raised loads slashing by.
Stare into warehouse blocks,
chessboard light strangle.
Dark windows inside clocks
pawns to bishops angle.
Concert of steel links girders,
brass and horns mingle.
Grinding and noisy herders,
crows arc, voices tingle.
Night shadow, clouds we toss,
froth sputters in train
Below arc of Southern Cross,
distant on hills my aim.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
can't beat
the SS grey kicking the
SA khaki silly...
in terms of fashion?
no one can beat
the nation-sozi...
you wired into
the upcoming affair
of nationalkapitalismus
of america?
am i so ******* dumb
as being the only person
to notice this trend?
**** i'm dumber than
i had reservations
for expectation...
to mind...
don't you think the naxis
had the best attired
army?!
me too...
the **** are these
rags to ritches Bolshevik
goat-herders doing
in Versailles?!
***** **** as hell
i wish i am deemed a ****
at least i'll be fathomable
donning a dolce & gabbana grau;
**** **** **** i'm itchy
to be demmed a ****
easier to spot a quack
and the capital nationalist
breadcrumbs... leftovers...
****** bargains on what's
considered a brain...
can someone please get me
a **** uniform!
i am dying a buddhist death
rummanating
the concept of an
"anti-clockwise" ********
die grau dolce & gabbana...
pristine, crisp, fold of a dying swan
imagining an origami....
and a shirt to boot...
death is almost near impossible,
when attired
to a **** inclusion
membrane bypass of an
army osmosis...
hey... nazis had style...
which, with or without
anglo punk anarchy...
could do very little...
thanks to the nazis grey never
looked so cool,
when revising pale brown
of... mustard / diarrhoea;
herr Flagenshtein ought
to know...
what precursors the hybrid,
in reviving a time as past
history, imbued with a "nostalgia"...
cameos... imbued in
the pursuit of purpose,
that actual, actors, should
be allowed centre stage.
can't beat the **** army in terms
of fashion...
crisp: is but one word
that solidifies their
pursuit of eternal fame.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC