"loyalists" poems
Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can find,
Your haste has filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, that highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership that hurts,
Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.
Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.
Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across
But with humility of nature,
leaving pieces of trace, to rejuvinate all again,
Than your leadership that is out to loot all,
Lending little to your loyalists,
Leaving none to the rest
Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can reach,
Your haste filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership
Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.
Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.
Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across and humility to leave a apiece, than your leadership that is out to loot all, lending little to your loyalists.
Better the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that
etter the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
*Gone are the days of yore
When intellectualism was a preserve
Of the privileged and distinguished in society
A family ‘heirloom’ passed on to succeeding generations*
*Over the years the human mind
Has morphed into a think tank of awe and bamboozlement
An object for advancement…and destruction almost in equal measure
A portal to self-destruction
*Political pundits passionately discourse in the corridors
Of power over an issue as mundane as food taxes
Am ****** if this aint a move to subjugate the populace
Whilst reveling in the guise of representing the best interests of the electorate*
*It’s a slap in the face of reason and logic
A soiling and tainting of mother earth’s unconditional benevolence
Extended to her humble earthlings as bountiful harvest
But a means of self-aggrandizement it is for the politicians and their loyalists
Apparently this is *political correctness
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
I've lived my life in search of the truth
Now I know I've searched in vain
From all I gathered is no truth
But just the truest lies avail
WHO is here, to tell the truth?
Is he the one being fed lies
Or those that carve some lies as truth
Maybe loyalty is the color of truth
If the truth is genuinely our freedom
Why are we still trapped in walls
I guess the truth is history
Or just some historical lies
I searched afresh in the house of God
The only place the truth should abound
Only to find that what they preach
Are the truest lies avail
In my recent search for the truth
I searched relentlessly without
It's not without but just within
The truth is what I say is
Trust and faith are the elements of truth
The claim that loyalists validate
The only ones that know the truth
Are those that see the truth within
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
I am still trying my best.
Stretching my legs to the coastline,
lactic shackles of inertia
are cast off.
I remember the ease
of animating these young limbs-
concrete strut, woodland walk;
it is hard to think of you much these days,
even in the confines
of unread books and filter coffee.
I have forgotten you, your blue dress,
your punting on the Thames.
There are harder habits
than caffeine and rich women.
As Ol' Tom Waits says,
“you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops.”
The glass roof of the arcade
offers translucent sunlight,
a high-street retreat from the nature of the sea,
all mankind's institutionalisation,
all these walls and closing times,
bigger names over bigger signs.
I am still a rare sight of youth
amongst the patient, ringed eyes
of those book-shop loyalists;
a choir of silver on their heads,
acquired wisdom of faded routines,
old laughter etched like the Nazca Lines
in their faces, lips eroded and pale;
sexless in the fluorescent lighting.
Breathing spaces where life exists
are always held closest to the fear of death.
I am still finding a clean way of living,
a way to accept my place, my face
in the mirror of my self-hate, anxious words
and half-conscious recollections;
the remnants and scars from asphyxiation – old drownings:
the sorrow that separated myself from others,
the sorrow that separated you and I,
you and I.
Your pursuit of a well-ticked time-sheet,
my love for sentiments that rhyme.
I have learned the patterns of the waves,
the way money is exchanged.
Oh, my dearest depression,
my ache for acceptance.
My endless, endless ocean of blue
can be sad, so sad,
but it can be beautiful too.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
A street, ruined by Council workers
Never to be repaired.
A church, the dominion and focal point
Where only Satanists laid claim.
Two shops, one sold rancid
The other, overpriced.
Five hundred people, bored and doomed
Loyalists, who took pride in their version
Of Pandemonium, of Lucifer's funhouse
Of this cesspool of glorified
Rubble, this wasteland
Where only those who had given up,
Or that knew they would die
Slowly and agonisingly should, or could survive.
One castle, where brave Normans
Would frown and disown such a place,
And leave, rather than stay in such a disgrace.
To this place and it's inmate's I say
"you are nothing if not ordinary".
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
We have never really talked,
But I think I can,
Knowing I am the son of the same soil that anointed you,
And I come from the same city you started it all,
Before I say something I would like to touch your feet,
Pay my respects
I don't know where to start from,
Probably, in school they taught your lessons,
I didn't know back then it was a blessing,
Instead I made fun of you,
disfiguring your picture in the textbook,
Now I think, How could I?
I hope you can forgive me
And you said "hate the sin, not the sinner",
But it was 2nd October and didn't miss your movie,
It feels so nostalgic to me,
My grandfather once saw you,
He used to tell me stories about you,
How a nation was saved,
And the struggles you braved,
They say your thoughts are obsolete,
But not for me,
What you have instilled in me is priceless,
Beyond caste, color and race,
I wish I could tell you face to face,
From shaking the empire to your fasting,
Time in prison to the Salt March,
I wish I could take a part,
Shaking the foundations,
To making us a proud nation,
Bringing to us that moment of Salvation,
From Indigo to salt to cotton,
You fought them,
To millions under starvation,
Making us think from a common man's point of view,
It was you,
From self reliance,
To defiance,
You did it,
And all that without use of force,
I wished you could have stayed longer,
Bless some of the lost souls,
Left some of us on crossroads,
And they say Jesus told us what to do,
You taught us how to do it,
Forgive me, younger me was stupid,
You paved the way for King Jr. and Mandela to aspire,
And many others feel inspired,
But the sad part is that,
Against you they still conspire.
Living free,
Not knowing you did it for us,
How a thin barely clothed man could do wonders,
You taught us to stand for injustice,
You don't need a Nobel Prize, the only true ambassador of peace,
And the loyalists still follow,
Your word is never leaving,
Words are not enough,
But I feel your sorrow,
You made me believe,
Anything is possible
If you stay focused and work for it,
There's so much more to learn,
Nothing but gain knowledge,
And I try to pay homage,
Statues around the world,
Left us true word
The legacy lives on,
No matter how much I say
It will not be enough
Nobody can fill your shoes
Even if they try to,
The world calls you Mahatma, I call you Bapu*
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
With each breath I breathe I challenge the status quo, be authentic, be imperfect, be honest. With each heartbeat I challenge the concept of time, in perpetuity in this moment, blessed and sacred, the past, the future, and all experiences.
With each step I challenge, the monotony, the indifferent, the cynic, be it by smiles, be it the silent observer, be it my open minded disposition.
With each thought I challenge, pseudo-complexities, faux friends, false alliances, spiteful relatives, fake loyalists, and shady lovers, be like water, powerful, assertive, submissive, and passive.
With each emotion I challenge, the indoctrinated, the subservient, the living dead, the disempowered, and the prosthleziers, by being kind, by expressing love, by displaying compassion and ceasing moments of opportunities.
With each savory taste of sustenance I chew in amazement and marvel at the texture and the sensation of uami, be it decadence, be it bliss, be it hedonistic.
With each choice made, I celebrate my free will, with every decision, I honor my freedom I challenge the unseen prisons, the culture of maniacal psychopaths, and the assassination of the sacred and cultural genocide.
With my constitution, I challenge those that dare to live, to thrive, to love, to conquer, to ascend, and to create.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
He that trod upon subservient Europe
with the imperial guards' fighting prowess,
did himself and his heartthrob the empress,
entrench thrones jointly owned by their hookup.
He that caused guns to rage on Europe's plains
and cannons to thunder on Egypt's sands,
sent hussars and mamluks to distant flight.
He usurped crowns for his dear siblings' gains,
and enthroned loyalists to head vanquished lands.
But was banished for good from France's sight
after a stunning loss on Belgium's plains.
May 27, 2021
May 27, 2021 at 12:41 PM UTC
I’m trying my best now.
I am leaving the house on occasions
and letting the sun sink into my skin.
I’m told that it is good for me,
and for once I’m willing to listen.
I’m wiping flakes of pastry
and powdered sugar from my lips.
Almonds collect on the plate beside me,
as I stop and think of you over coffee;
assessing how far we’ve come.
The folks in here are old.
They move slower than the usual
rush that is found in the streets
below; never thinking, never stopping,
but always looking for more.
I wonder what they think of me.
I should be out having *** trying on
loud shirts and sporting caps in the mirror,
whilst binge-drinking the fountain of youth,
and chasing it down with holy wine.
Instead I sit with them, frozen
in place with a notebook I don’t deserve,
sipping falsely on a macchiato,
whilst hoping I don’t get found out;
whilst hoping to become the furniture.
This death is approaching me.
I see it in the demise of poetry,
and in the grey hair of the book shop loyalists.
I see it in their ringed eyes,
as they look upon me like some species of bird
they’d long thought to have gone extinct.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
A lonely ship sails through a narrow sea.
It's torn flag raised for all to see.
A symbol of the crews heart worn on their sleeve.
Loyalists to the captain they bend the knee.
He holds out a map, "x marks the spot".
Lost in his own dreams that he almost forgot.
The distance isn't the issue he's got.
It's how far he must dig to earn A shot.
At forgiveness, redemption before all is lost.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
To pursue the Heart's true bliss, that is the purpose,
To which thou dost have immortal *******
Amidst the temptations of vicarious vice,
And the seductions of superfluous passion,
Made pale by deepest desire. To brood, to gestate -
like God's seed - by this impulse compelled,
To exquisite action. The devotees and loyalists of heart,
That to Paradise are heirs. ‘Tis reverential communion,
Rendered meaningful by Heart. To love, to give -
To love - and soar divine: that’s the knack.
For in Love’s dearth no immortal sheen,
Doth shroud the hankering human heart,
Hungry for passion. Alack the void that doth haunt,
And taunt the lovelorn. For who could deny,
The cataclysm of a cleft soul, bereft of another.
Who would not yearn to yield and syncopate with other hearts;
The perfect care of Love. Her benevolent palms beget,
Praised treasures worthy of psalms, rare and pure,
For her giving knows no church or nation, or ration,
That deprive a child or person from her warmth,
Which gives life, love, light, laughter, a truth,
For where is there protest? Who would laurels deny,
Blaspheme against her awesome beauty, take aim,
At her sublime stature that dost withstand,
A cynic’s trial, clinically executed, with cold, callow hand,
The Heart of God’s loyalists by shrewd scholar emaciated,
And enervated; Nay, no children of Paradise,
Imbued with glory commit offence against sweet lady Love.
Thus cynicism makes a ******* of anyone who doubts,
And thus twin hearts commit to paths that cross,
A truth that soars like albatross, to those who spy,
The things that are lesser seen, like Love,
Love is dove, she is peace and fire, on golden wings,
She aspires. Like one of nature’s dutiful bees,
Doing sacred work of Earth, committed to Life,
Be all her treasures honoured.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 9:18 PM UTC
World leaders met and Trump,
Who lives in various wonderlands,
Also had a meeting with Putin
And played right into the dictator's hands.
Trump admires Putin--a man
Who bullies targets to do his bidding.
If Trump's not aware that he's being played,
The neophyte has to be kidding.
A man who loves to undermine
Democracy and put down dissent,
Create chaos in the world
And pull the strings of our president,
Maintain control of a criminal state
Where greed, graft, and corruption hold sway,
And jail or **** opponents doesn't
Even deserve the time of day.
Yes, we know that power corrupts
And absolute power, absolutely.
Its hideous effect on a free people
Is something we're aware of acutely.
Does Trump just love the idea that Putin
Controls the country, controls the press,
Surrounds himself with loyalists,
And governs the people with fear and duress?
Not a pretty picture, of course.
Concerned Americans very much fear
That Putin-like threats to democracy
Are showing their ugly faces here.
- by Bob B (7-9-17)
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
A Note From Exile
I cannot go home.
Rather I cannot go where my family lives - that place ceased to be home some time ago.
I was a soldier during the Cold War and my neighbors there have become more like East German loyalists than American citizens.
They surrender their rights without question
They are eager to call out community members on social media for ‘social distancing violations’.
They use shame and ridicule to control others
They applaud the police for keeping children from playing in gigantic public parks
They trust politicians who ignore public defecation and drug use to look out for ’the public good'
They allow themselves to be labeled ‘essential’ and ’non-essential’
They carry ’traveling papers’ in the event that they are stopped by the police
They propagate the most inflammatory statistics without ever validating their veracity.
Because…
They heard it on CNN.
So I will remain 1098 miles away
Zooming
Skyping
Facetiming
Until the contagion subsides
And then I’ll return
To a completely different world.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 12:21 AM UTC
Conflicts, exist in life.
Many of us is lost and many won't get it right.
Even not in the house of love.
They preach love mixed with off slighted hatred.
Concerning certain life styles within the world.
Then you read the scriptures and realize many saintly loyalists.
Wasn't exactly living perfect.
Most men has multiple lovers.
And they talk bad about Jezebel and the woman that manipulated Samson into the secrets of his hair.
Yes, in the house of love.
Sinners, spots pretense in saints.
Saints, spots wrong in sinners.
While forgetting what point they wanted to change?
Love, adapts and adjust.
But the house of love has a lot of mess to change.
Then they in various ways don't see this.
Which is why many still lives in pretense.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
I believed Anita Hill;
So did all my friends.
History repeats itself;
We know how it ends.
Watching makes my stomach turn
For loyalists won’t budge
And thus the Court will have on board
Another suspect judge.
It really isn’t a surprise
When those in our regime
Distort the truth with consequences,
In this case, Supreme.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
Love is a realm is of experience that must not be repressed
By the dictums and strictures of Reason
On Love's planes the luscious light of passion manifests
The flower of mutual care in perennial season
O'er the planes on cantering hoove
Go the loyalists of Heart
By emotion stirred and feelings moved
Perceiving compassion's exquisite art
Towards setting Suns they rove and rage
A torrent of torrid blisses
Love knows what is best, she is sage
Her percipient insight never misses
On what distant shores or sands
Does Love work magic of her hands
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
I cannot go home.
Rather I cannot go where my family lives - that place ceased to be home some time ago.
I was a soldier during the Cold War and my neighbors there have become more like East German loyalists than American citizens.
They surrender their rights without question
They are eager to call out community members on social media for ‘social distancing violations’.
They use shame and ridicule to control others
They applaud the police for keeping children from playing in gigantic public parks
They trust politicians who ignore public defecation and drug use to look out for ’the public good'
They allow themselves to be labeled ‘essential’ and ’non-essential’
They carry ’traveling papers’ in the event that they are stopped by the police
They propagate the most inflammatory statistics without ever validating their veracity.
Because…
They heard it on CNN.
So I will remain 1098 miles away
Zooming
Skyping
Facetiming
Until the contagion subsides
And then I’ll return
To a completely different world.
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
Justifying a thief
Looking for a Redeemer
Yet selling one's soul for bargain
Sale of one's conscience
Giving room for imprisonment
Doing away with the inconvenient truth
A line-up of forgotten heritage
Accepting the long spoon
Cornering the dividends of abandonment
Losing one's entitlement
Giving betrayal a new name
Crowning loyalists king of the land
Upholding truth
A forgotten culture
Making lies their way of life
Truth at the cross
Dying for it's belief
A martyr no one wants
Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
(Do you know the 1958 Sheb Wooley song "The Purple People Eater"? Here is a poem/song version for 2024.)
Well, this strange phenomenon came walking our way
With a deep orange glow. Boy what a day!
'Twas the weirdest creature you ever could see.
It looked like an orangish freedom hater to me.
It was a big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
(Big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.)
A big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
NOT so fun to see! (Loud mouth?)
So he came to this land to spread all of his hate
And he told people here that he would make them great.
He also said he's the chosen one!
His first time here was a mere dry run!
It was a big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
(Big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.)
A big ol', foul-mouthed, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
'Twas so weird to see! (Big old?)
We asked the orangish freedom hater, "What's your plan?"
Then HE said, "Doing what it takes to be a moneyman.
But what's more important is to meet my goal:
To kick out non-loyalists and be in control."
Well, boogeyman, Putin fan, lyin' orangish freedom hater,
Addled-brained, unrestrained, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
(He wears golf pants) lyin' orangish freedom hater.
Looks so strange to me!
He said he HAD many friends who could help him succeed,
And he asked us why we had a problem with greed.
He said that greed's a virtue and it must be clear--
That the government shouldn't stop a profiteer!
Well, boogeyman, Putin fan, lyin' orangish freedom hater,
Addled-brained, unrestrained, lyin' orangish freedom hater.
(He loves golf pants) lyin' orangish freedom hater.
Strange? You must agree! (Freedom hater?)
There's a problem with him, and, yes, it's sad to say:
It looked as though he would be here to stay.
"Move to Russia," we said--"a perfect country for you.
Let the Russian dictator make all your dreams come true."
-by Bob B (9-7-24)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67tKNEsJjTI
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 10:50 AM UTC