"jonah" poems
i
give me my lifes´
the day crowded bright
and the night sumptuous..
give me my pretty wife
where love at first sight
bind us..
give us two souls blithe
fused as light within light
sweet bounteous..
let us soar and dive
like content swallows might
time in lost happiness..
( and let trouble and strife
bind-us the more tight
like our first kiss..)
give then to two one life
white to white
whole as stars
as love unto death
might break apart
and ride the cosmos..
ii
the jonah by james herbert
a heist goes wrong and a colleage
is shot..
just another debacle for our hero
in a long list
that has him transferred to the
drug squad and east anglia..
to live in a caravan..
keep his eye on the locals
and drink strong beer..
ellie his partner
makes him eat
and they fall in love
though various tentions rise
due to his troubles..
some flash backs
a left baby in a toilet
sadistic stuff at the orphanage..
bullies and dodgy collars
his step father is strict
he is an ornothologist..
there are drug related incident
a dead vole
a us pilot bites the farm..
some little boy thinks he
can fly..
the water supply
some pilfering
some heavy knocks
some bad lies
some kitchen
small potatoes
but all part
of mr herbert´ s charm..
a huge storm
the spooky old mill
a wild trip..
and regression
bad men
bad men..
lot´ s of struggle
the raw products
towed in by trawler
assembled by the knights
torn
and a lost twin..
a monster in the flood
where others die
a maitre d..
a ***** salesman and
his girl in a caravan
the fishermen..
helicopters and
victory for
the forces of good..
and the jonah
gone and all
is light..
the end..
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
Some women marry houses.
It's another kind of skin; it has a heart,
a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
The walls are permanent and pink.
See how she sits on her knees all day,
faithfully washing herself down.
Men enter by force, drawn back like Jonah
into their fleshy mothers.
A woman is her mother.
That's the main thing.
14.7k
Mr Jonah was sent to Nineveh
He head out but took a detour
Now in the belly of the beast.
Mr Jonah cannot change things overnight
Says his town's men
Who will Carry or move anything
Without power?
Obviously no one, so we need power
They also said;
That's not possible overnight.
Our palm oil is dry
No groundnut oil to fry
Nobody is buying our powerful oil
Yet we have to sell before we boil
If we don't sell something
We will not eat anything.
Our children are misbehaving
Is this the future we are saving?
Will Mr Jonah build a place
Full of tutors?
Well,that's not possible overnight
Cows everywhere
Is there no one to check these cows?
Mr check cow is busy
Burning our farms and farmers
Mr Jonah cannot stop Mr check cow
Not overnight.
365 days make a year
How many years make an overnight?
The writer coughs;
6 years makes one night.
Wait o, is 6years overnight?
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
(Genesis, xxii.14)
The saints should never be dismay'd,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect His aid,
The Saviour will appear.
This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, "Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."
Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.
When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.
Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
6.7k
Manning up in Texas
Geldof overdose
needles at the bed stand
starlet comatose
California dreaming
killer meets demise
hurling in a taxi
puke fee on the rise
Fighting in the Gaza
Jordan's holy war
rebels on a mission
Jihad underscore
The North Korean riddle
pales in grand design
crisis on the border
planes fall from the sky
Cooking on a deadline
tempting tapenades
herbs are in the spotlight
wines that give a nod
Google maps the body
DOW at record highs
Uber comes to market
corn is on the rise
Apple on its earnings
Caterpillar dead
European sanctions
banks have **** the bed
Clippers threaten boycott
Longhorns follow purge
Lynch is out of training camp
James is on the verge
Leinart taking *** shots
coughing up a lung
lions take a licking
fans are throwing dung
Another day in Vegas
Primm from A-Z
rolling out an ankle
a flying SUV
Quiet tempting spaces
made better by design
multi color pea coat
silence fuels the mind
Stabbing in the subway
goat caught in a well
apes are selling tickets
(but leave behind a smell)
Puberty on trial
a man without a head
teachers feel alone
lets take them to the shed!
Jonah's tomb destroyed
wreckage in Mumbai
Sugar Daddy sites
Freedom 85
The immigrant debate
Russia's mounting toll
unions on a mission
heads are gonna roll
Beaches for the nudists
hotels on the cheap
the best generic brands
a list you have to keep!
Planning your estate
questions from the camp
a mansion up for sale
where once they filmed The Champ
Midwives threaten action
aboriginal act
truckers want concessions
that train has left the track
Sharks are found in Fundy
a prized but perilous catch
food we love to hate the most
an irrefutable batch
A family on the brink
I want my kids to fail!
politicians drains all hope
a ban on Israel
Follow out each headline
let the columns be your guide
all these things did happen
the day that Newhouse died
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
Lone walker,
In the midst of the crowd his heart was always alone.
Sank into the belly of tribulations,
Unlike the missionary journey of Jonah he was vomited into
more woes.
Like how a beautiful mountain in a wilderness thirst for tourist
So his heart was hungry for love.
If loneliness is synonymous to poverty then he deserved this cross.
Lone walker,
He lonely walked on thorns, struggled with everything, sweated blood.
He lived a life of trapped miners in a cave miles below fresh air.
Lone walker,
Rain of respite barely shower on his path.
Sun bit his skin, dews often united with his tears,
For there was no even a free den for him to rest his head.
His days were worse than the trials of Job,
For he had not even a wife to encourage him to curse God and give up the ghost.
Like an eaglet without a falcon, he was accustomed to crying for his dying talents that was hidden too deep for any scout to discover.
To him the world was empty and void of helpers
Until a moment came when he decided to abort his worries, fears and his ugly past.
In a flash he recalled the parable of the talents,
In a speed of lightning he stood and put his hidden gift into use.
I key my mind into the eyes of the reader of his biography,
As I stood in the midst of his children offspring in his burial ceremony fit for kings,
With the assurance that he is not walking alone to heaven or hell indeed
And surely his once lonely heart would be filled with merriment and peace.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
#*Ugh!
they cut
half my tree down
the one closest to me
where the birds made their nest
which became my shelter too
screened and swaddled by boughs
so i'm mourning a myrtle today
as Jonah once grieved for a vine
appointed by God to grow up
and ordered by Him to
go to remind
us there are
things more
important
than plants
like poetry
and people
and maybe
its one of those
i'm really missing anyway*#
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
What should we have expected from new ascents?
You think there is simple safety in messages sent?
Melancholic waves descend, lonely veins sink in,
If I was simple before, you'd be able to see,
See through the extremities that bounded me.
But how could a flower begin these internal spins?
Bounded by piety to seek love away from sin,
Destined, we hope that this one will sink in.
If life's a play then this one is just pretend,
And the toil of tragedy, revealed at play's end.
But if this life is an Odysseun ode,
Then oh! the wonders to be told!
For each new ascent, a heroic tale,
On the way down, purified hail.
For we have cast Circe like Jonah's whale,
And fly alongside a dove's tail,
Whose wings spread in glorious white,
Revealing Leila, mistress of the night.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
On the first day, he was pushed
robust in his stance, the other forced,
this boy down the spiral staircase
of the Catholic church, the school
had renovated, the Spring before
Isaac had begun his studies,
at the high school.
Ballet was his passion, Latin was the
language that so effortlessly, fluently
was spoken from his lips in class
as he smiled at his Professor, another
victory accomplished in academia
so proud were his parents, of their
blue eyed boy.
Jonah was the reject, the older brother
he had been kicked out of school,
not once, but twice, and was often
found with a joint, his unshaven face
wrapped around one of the girls,
from the all girls school that ran
alongside Isaacs all boys.
Issac was hurt, a further blow to his
stomach, rendered him broken
as a waterfall of tears ran down his
bruised and cut face, so ashamed
as other pupils laughed, staring, pointing
until the final bell rang as they fled from
the high ceilings and narrow corridors.
Wrapped in a ball, he waited for all
halls and students to clear, and as
he rolled over, picking himself up
he took to the washroom, knowing he
needed to be presentable for his mother
waiting for him at the school gate
brimming with pride, at her boys scholarship.
All his dreams, mystical and serene, Romeo and Juliet
fluid streams of poetry of Elliot, Poe, Hughes
and of course Wilde and those love letters of Beethoven
math, biology, all paled into insignificance
he was born a writer, a dancer, a drawer,
sketching and typing his heart to a page,
prose a future love would read.
Johan saw his mother's car pull up
as he raced and giggled with Saskia
leading her astray, he promised her all
the things those boys always did, and of course
not to break her sweet sixteen heart, unlike other boys
as his mother smoked another Camel, the two lovers
jumped into his truck, Johnny Cash blaring from speakers
laughing hysterically, the world at their feet.
By 4pm, Isaac was ready to leave school,
tentatively walking out the main door, down
concrete slabs as steps, no predators in sight
he couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes
that formed as bruises, knowing he was fortunate
to have not been damaged further
by the haunting before last period.
Walking to the gates, he listened through
headphones; Tchaikovsky
his release
his home
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Don't use ****
To get what I need
**** em up
**** me up
Dyslexia *****
Like I **** you off
On my best friends floor
Behind the bathroom door
While they're dead asleep
Our secret to keep
Turn off the TV
Making sure they can't see
You right on top of me
Fingertips trace along your sides
While you're meeting my insides
Get to know me even more
Can't hear our moans over their snore
I can barely keep my eyes open
Swim in me like I'm the ocean
Getting seasick everywave
A life I can't help but save
Swallowed like Jonah and the whale
Pause and we both exhale
Collapse in exhaustion
After our little excursion
Your heartbeat puts me to sleep
Your breathing is still deep
Didn't even need ****
To get a good night's sleep
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
IF I should pass the tomb of Jonah
I would stop there and sit for awhile;
Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark
And came out alive after all.
If I pass the burial spot of Nero
I shall say to the wind, "Well, well!"-
I who have fiddled in a world on fire,
I who have done so many stunts not worth doing.
I am looking for the grave of Sinbad too.
I want to shake his ghost-hand and say,
"Neither of us died very early, did we?"
And the last sleeping-place of Nebuchadnezzar-
When I arrive there I shall tell the wind:
"You ate grass; I have eaten crow-
Who is better off now or next year?"
Jack Cade, John Brown, Jesse James,
There too I could sit down and stop for awhile.
I think I could tell their headstones:
"God, let me remember all good losers."
I could ask people to throw ashes on their heads
In the name of that sergeant at Belleau Woods,
Walking into the drumfires, calling his men,
"Come on, you ... Do you want to live forever?"
2.5k
The city of Bongwater was a city of sin,
An epic journey of the man who did the bins,
All that binning at 5 am made a terrible din,
Monday mornings in Bongwater's city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!
The epic of the bin man in this city of sin,
Driving into parked cars made a terrible din,
"Told you not to park near the bins."
The callous bin man yelled in the city of sin.
This is the epic of the bin man in a city of sin,
Past the schools, he ran over some kids,
"Told you not walk in front of bins!"
Our hero yelled at the rest of the kids,
Drive down , bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low.
The epic journey of a bin man in a city of sin,
One day, he hit the water mains with the bins,
Fountains erupted in this city of sin,
Bin man's demolished Bongwater, city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip the bins down low!
An epic journey of the bin man, in a city of sin,
Driving into light poles in this city of sin,
"Who needs power?" he yelled above the din,
Driving around Bongwater's city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!
This is the epic of the city that didn't pray,
One day the bin man rolled their bins away,
That was the epic of our hero of the bins,
Driving round Bongwater, that city of sin,
All that binning made a terrible din!
Drive down, bin man.
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!!!
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
After being whale vomited, did Jonah swear off eating fish?
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
He laid waste everything in his way.
The fierce smiling gentle giant.
Ball in hand and try after try opponents brandished him a freak wishing he'd go away.
Crowds did gather to bear witness to his talents as he lit up the world taking rugby to a whole new level.
Hailed an All Black great and a global phenomenon.
I will never forget you Jonah Lomu.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
I go mad that I might see the world around me anew
Growing up and being taught everything even the things I fear
Yes the things I fear, love and hate… we are all first taught it all
What to fear, what to love, what to hate.. this is my understanding
Of the madness I encounter everyday…
I go mad that the world around me may accept me for a sanity’s insanity
Dressed in naked’s flesh and being glorified as the highest fad in vogue
For even my flesh feels no more shame, as Adam and Eve felt same
Oh! I go mad for the love of Steve rather Eve becoming Adam’s ribs
How beit? “From the beginning it was not so” why make it so now
Will Jonah’s good luck bill save our nation’s repulsive ills and acts?
How long will mercy deter us from the brimstone exodus of the Gomorrah’s?
I go mad for loved ones that show love for the personal preferential from loved ones
How much of this personal preferential love actually makes the world go round
Brothers killing brothers, how cold our love has waxed...
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations
guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.
one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.
my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.
i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did
oh
said i
you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african
childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows
what you'd
look
like
tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family
who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls
wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love
well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep
hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another
but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone
this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood
why
why
why.
the cruelty
but
yet
still
and
for
ever
(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)
you always make me laugh, still
the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives
the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.
siblings
be strong the
good kind of
dangerous
is
the
fire
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Try your best to escape and free
Your mind is not your identity
Your genetics, your family tree
Your looking glass eyes can see
Through the window an fatefully
Change your perception of reality
And redefine who you are to be
My new persona is in a coma down in Barcelona
Now I'm Jonah in love with Mona from Arizona
Drinking corona with Fiona in the streets of Verona
Creativity is a proclivity that unshackles our identity free
Journey with me far from the vast sea of mental captivity
Exclusivity of proactivity creates a glorious life of festivity
Consent to your dreams to the absolute umpteenth degree
Augment your schemes and forget about the no guarantee
Reinvent thee extremes, and you will never be a life absentee
Remember as you read that we are all connected eternally
On this marble together spinning we are all just guests
Wandering around trying to solve our personal quests
Humans being we happened to be, but only temporarily
May as well attempt and squeeze life to death and manifest
All your aspirations and ambitions should be put to the test
All so blessed with a mind, and a beating heart in our chest
So why not invest the rest of our time to aspire to be the best
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
Christ and Satan walks the earth
Between three and six am
when drunken minds wonder their worth
And the powers that be possess them.
When its come to me and them
I am more in between
Than the seem down your jeans
That splits your *** in two.
The black **** in between your tiles
That you can not clean.
I do drugs
But I am far from a fiend
I am drugs
The one the people crave
And will always love
I am the rising son
Brighter than
The morning sun
From a place where
the heroes run
And the ******* children
Are always shunned
And made fun
I am the rising son.
The Nephilim
Keep your eye
to the rising son
For my light within
Is far from
The darkest dim.
I am Nephilim.
Far from the normal
Yet close to the insane.
Enlightened thoughts
swim through my brain
As big as Jonah's whale
Covered in flames from hell
and from above.
Those that are blind
Would say that I've gone mad.
In reality I'm just sad
And depressed.
Because in this mad world
The brightest minds are oppressed.
I am obsessed with the thought
If I am blessed by Jehovah
Or have I turned over possessed
By Satan and his aura.
When it comes down to this
Wicked **** that I've spit
Upon this page
You don't know ****
I am the rising son
Brighter than
The morning sun
From a place where
the heroes run
And the ******* children
Are always shunned
And made fun
I am the rising son.
The Nephilim
Keep your eye
to the rising son
For the light within
Is far from
The darkest dim.
I am Nephilim.
Four *******
And a third eye.
This is the answer why.
We need more before the end
Draws nigh.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Chastized me, how dare I want.
Your insignificant dilemmas,
The crisis queen has selfishly kept my heart
As I fester in this corner.
I, the jonah, vicariously burning,
I, the ungodly freak, fed your masked scraps.
I, the fool, bathe in your false hopes.
I, the ***** am entitled to no affinity.
Yearning for a place, a moment, une amie.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
My God, my God, what queer corner am I in?
Didn't I die, blood running down the post,
lungs gagging for air, die there for the sin
of anyone, my sour mouth giving up the ghost?
Surely my body is done? Surely I died?
And yet, I know, I'm here. What place is this?
Cold and queer, I sting with life. I lied.
Yes, I lied. Or else in some ****** cowardice
my body would not give me up. I touch
fine cloth with my hand and my cheeks are cold.
If this is hell, then hell could not be much,
neither as special or as ugly as I was told.
What's that I hear, snuffling and pawing its way
toward me? Its tongue knocks a pebble out of place
as it slides in, a sovereign. How can I pray>
It is panting; it is an odor with a face
like the skin of a donkey. It laps my sores.
It is hurt, I think, as a I touch its little head.
It bleeds. I have forgiven murderers and ******
and now must wait like old Jonah, not dead
nor alive, stroking a clumsy animal. A rat.
His teeth test me; he waits like a good cook,
knowing his own ground. I forgive him that,
as I forgave my Judas the money he took.
Now I hold his soft red sore to my lips
as his brothers crowd in, hairy angels who take
my gift. My ankles are a flute. I lose hips
and wrists. For three days, for love's sake,
I bless this other death. Oh, not in air --
in dirt. Under the rotting veins of its roots,
under the markets, under the sheep bed where
the hill is food, under the slippery fruits
of the vineyard, I go. Unto the bellies and jaws
of rats I commit my prophecy and fear.
Far below The Cross, I correct its flaws.
We have kept the miracle. I will not be here.
1.6k
Took a trip on the Belafonte,
Bound with Cuba to forgotten Sanz.
Dinning on tin canned Del Monte,
A glass of Suntory always in hands.
Lloyd Faversham gifted salacious devices by John Cleese.
Used as props in Mike’s next gin stained showpiece.
The drum-line seemed irksome to J. Jonah.
He’d heard Zach Hill before.
Given limited time, despite the persona.
Interstellar fault found in a **** metaphor.
A swift change to an even more marketable sound.
Sparks didn’t fly when trying to appear profound.
Tiny teen dreams tending to tiny skirts.
Fidgeting with the hem-line.
Their just unintelligible flirts.
Stripping to avoid the breadline.
Dystopian fiction led to dissolution of fact
Can’t seem to see their world isn’t intact.
Atwood to Collins, Collins to a stupid ******* maze.
Alternate choice being a criminal thrill.
Simplistic fantasy whose only benefit is praise.
Popular opinion seems to be well over the hill.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
In God's breath he waits,
the candle dimming as the
clock ticks and hours are slate,
his heart's echoes losing the war
As his hands bridge the abyss
of his fate while his mind
catches faith's miss;
fortune has a length to climb
With the strength of string
and no true grip
or able grasp to ring
the tower bell of Heaven's kinship-
And to his back tied this pail,
of needed pride sinking him
to the depths of Jonah's whale,
unable to release the whim
Of something delegated to sin;
the inability to call to the power
and make true his acceptance of Him,
even as the shadows of his final hour
Creep upon his flesh-worn frame,
burdened with the punnet of age,
no fruit able to let him know youth's flame
nor his frailty an answer to sage
Wisdom that has been boast
to descend upon those of change,
with answers that are host
to those within death's range.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
My shaft-craft docked I with hers
As in orbit the space shuttle Atlantis,
Before it was by NASA rested:
So up she swallowed of for three
Inexpressible minutes, my darling dilly, --
Just like a shark swallowed up stiff Jonah
For three days in her belly, --in Havana,
Where I was locked in tween her hot thighs,
Heaving out we both extraterrestrial sighs
Upon the green with amours encrusted.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
A small sip won’t sink the ship, no need to walk on water Peter!
Even a dark spot on a light skin is called a beauty spot,
A bottle a day keeps an uncle awake.
My drunk uncle rewrite history in his confused stories
“Moses built the Ark, Jonah ate the fruit, and Eve raised dry bones”
Maker of miracles always have a penny for a bottle
Like he turned the ocean water into wine
He never gets sober.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
God came one day to Abraham
Saying Abe my son I have this plan
See all these stars up in the sky
To your kin folk I will give life
So Abraham being a righteous man
Had two sons all in Gods plan
But being old he and his wife couldn't wait
So he laid with a female slave
Miracles from above
Ishmael and Isaac grew up
But a test came for his love
God had asked for his trust
Hagar was left behind
As father and son travelled the dessert
Where he had been called to testify
How he could pioneer and turn to right
Bring civilisation to God's light
Now we all know the test was passed
Or we wouldn't be here today
Speaking of the saviours who brought us to God's way
From Abraham came his sons
The messengers forever honoured
In Christianity, Judaism and Islam
Jacob, Moses, Elijah and Jonah
Zechariyah, John, Soloman and Noah
From them came Jesus and Mohammed
So we say peace be upon them all
And peace be upon this world
United we stand
For our ancestors were one
From the same blood we began
For the same Lord we bow...
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC