"minions" poems
1
It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days
That summer and man delight in.
Never had Heaven seemed quite so high,
Never had earth seemed quite so green,
Never had the world seemed quite so clean
Or sky so nigh.
And I heard the Deity’s voice in
The sun’s warm rays,
And the white cloud’s intricate maze,
And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen.
2
I looked to the heavens and saw him there,—
A black speck downward drifting,
Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed,
Nearer and nearer he slid through space,
In an unending aerial race,
This sailor who hailed
From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting,
On billows of air
And the blue sky seemed never so fair,
And the rest of the world kept pace.
3
On the white of his head the sun flashed bright;
And he battled the wind with wide pinions,
Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud,
Clearer and clearer he came into view,—
Bigger and blacker against the blue.
Then a dragon of cloud
Gathering all its minions
Rushed to the fight,
And swallowed him up in a bite;
And the sky lay empty clear through.
4
Long I watched. And at last afar
Caught sight of a speck in the vastness;
Ever smaller,ever decreasing,
Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day;
Finally ceasing.
So into Heaven’s vast fastness
Vanished that bar
Of black,as a fluttering star
Goes out while still on its way.
5
So I lost him. But I shall always see
In my mind
The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free;
The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing,
Trailing behind,—
And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors,
And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing
Into far skies and unknown harbors
40.4k
I wake as your friend You wake as my lover
I speak as your lover You speak as my friend
I act as your possession You are my possesion
I rebel as your cover A means to an end
I hurt for your compassion You live for my acceptance
I injure for your respect Though it's never been withheld
I confide for your emotion You crave my direction
I give and you collect Never will you rebel
This is madness This is Sparta
This is insanity This is the price of exellence
I can't be everything for you I am your everything
You can't be everything for me I am magnificence
You treat everyone the same I am fair and righteous
As a friend, yet as a lover And yet you seek more
And it's a cruel, cruel game Dare you grow capricious
From your twisted love, no one recovers You'll become one I abhor
I am done You are confused
(I am never done) And I will not calm you
I am sick *As I am amused*
(But I'm not tired) As I drop little clues
I will run You'll never leave me
(I won't run) But I'll abandon you
Because I love you You'll always need me
(A better word is 'desire') And I'll never need you
Let me go! My grip is vice-like
(But you're not holding me) I'm not ready to let you go
Bring me back! If I lose you, 'my dear'
(But I never left) I must find yet another 'beau'
Love me only! And I've not the time to put effort
(But you love equally) In little minions like you
Push me away! I've not a care to give for
(Or bridge this rift) You insects I never knew
Please, disappear I am your torture
One day you'll understand But I am your salvation
That the twisted way you love I am your executioner
Could coax death from any human And I am your redemption
Please, disappear! You'll wish me dead forever
Though I'll weep when you're gone You'll wish me dead I know
I know sanity will return And you'll wish yourself deader
And I'll eventually move on. When away I finally go.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
His army perched above in trees,
Watching the front become a feast,
Who wins, care not, in the least?
"The cawing clan of Koronos..."
The thousands black they view the fight,
Staying late for supper -feeding at night...
Picking tender morsels in illumed moon-light,
"Swarthy minions of King Koronos!"
Corvid follow Man wherever he may go,
Feathery tomes of knowledge their treasure trove,
The messengers in the House of Jove...
"His static barbizon Aves; Koronos!"
There are many kings who come and go,
Becoming part and parcel in a wicked show,
But none of them will ever match the Crow...
"Engrosser of the dead; Koronos!" *
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
She may be ******
And she may check my fingers-
Slam her hard metal pole down on them-
Each time we practice lacrosse.
And she may roll her eyes
At
Me.
But I don't hate her.
I feel sorry for her.
Because I think I'm the only one
Who pays attention
Through the laughter and fun
That
He touches her.
And she makes a joke out of it
So her minions snap out of their dazed state and
Chuckle a little bit.
But his crawling fingers are greedy
And her words are scarce.
All of the brain-dead minions
Laugh when she jokingly screams,
****
Except me.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
are we so unloved........in this the very day
that holds together all of creation?
wonderous sight!...eachother!
freely coming unto what we know to call
"the sacred door"
weeping and moaning in sheer lonliness
hating our abusing friends
who we then so gladly abuse
thankful for "justification"
we stomp our own poor face by face
we'd re-lynch negros if we could
get the rag heads YES WE CAN...HURRAY!
while the deadly oil spill
SIMPLY ERASED
IF NOT FROM THE WATERS .....THEN
FROM MEMORIES
we hate our lovers from the day we meet
and when he's gone
we want him back again!
so very unloved
but wait!
when a true friend appears
we just call him "nerd" or "geek"
lonley loveless
yet so safe
from the overwhelming reality
loving to be unloved
the power trip that never fades away
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:53 PM UTC
A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,
From my lips broke a cry,
Such as anguish may wring,
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
By Wealth's coach besmeared
With dirt in a shower,
Insulted and jeered
By the minions of power,
Where — oh where shall I fly?
Who comfort will bring?
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Life struck me with fright —
Full of chances and pain,
So I hugged with delight
The drudge's hard chain;
One must eat, — yet I die,
Like a bird with clipped wing,
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Love cheered for a while
My morn with his ray,
But like a ripple or smile
My youth passed away.
Now near Beauty I sigh,
But fled is the spring!
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
All men have a task,
And to sing is my lot —
No meed from men I ask
But one kindly thought.
My vocation is high —
'Mid the glasses that ring,
Still — still comes that reply,
Chant poor little thing.
9.5k
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Mr Grim Reaper
DON'T YOU KNOW?
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
As a uniform, he always wore
the grey ironmonger's coat
immaculately pressed and bore
clipped hair neat as well as a
close shave.
Mr. Cornthwaite (all of us
minions called him only Mr.)
was no "Do It 'Cos I Say So" boss
but with patience would teach
and preach retail folklore:
Cooks' staples stored well inside
our mini-market shop advanced
for its 50s' existence; shelf-stacking
to re-arrange for early use-by at the
front; fast-moving lines checked
hourly if not sooner; trusted staff
becoming the Tasting Squad for
new fresh produce being considered
for supply - The Cornflake (never
uttered in his hearing) circulating
to ensure not only that his ever-clear
commands were reflected in full shelves
but also that staff were coping not
rushed or overwhelmed.
The best Warrant Officer cares
just as much commands as
my de-mobbed Warrant Officer
father used to tell me when I asked.
(c) C J Heyworth
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC
The heart works for the hard work,
beating constantly as targets are acquired.
Shots fired, money wired and payments aplenty.
Contacts signed, terms and conditions defined,
it could take time, but the ***** rolling.
Touch base as we reach for the stars,
customers in charge, their business is ours.
We roll monthly, comfortably in our own domains,
renew them annually again as the pattern remains the same.
Some days, it's a struggle to get out of the pit,
feeling burnout, lack energy for my daily workout.
The wage ain't great but the dividends could add up to millions.
Some are cynical but I won't listen to those opinions.
I treat my staff as people not minions.
No need for incidents were a team of individuals.
Passionate and driven creatures,
hidden features and secret keepers.
Let's get money and lets get paid,
Theres a million ways we can earn more than the minimum wage.
Let's raise the bar, the city is ours and the worlds not too far away...
Dream tomorrow and live today.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Who's comb-over looks like *****
Donald's comb-over looks like *****
Who scared us shitless election night?
Donald scared us shitless election night.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump
Who's got a tie that's long and red?
The Don has a tie that's long and red?
Who pays hookers to **** on beds?
The Don pays hookers to **** on beds.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got hands tiny and slight?
The Don has hands tiny and slight.
Who spews lies out day and night?
The Don spews lies out day and night.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got a vocab small and trite?
The Don has a vocab small and trite.
Who whines Fake News out of spite?
The Don whines Fake News out of spite.
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD?
The Don likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD.
Who likes a spanking when he's bad?
The Don likes a spanking when he's bad.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
How many minions leave today?
So many so far went their way.
Comey, Priebus, Flynn and Bannon,
Tillerson, Spicer, Hope and Ryan.
Leave today. Gone their way.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
*Swift as a cheetah
On its way to destruction
A great dark swirling mass
Of water,
Accompanied by the small minions
We call rain
And thunder
Lighting up the dark sky momentarily*
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
ALLAHU-AKBAR, (TRUE)
GOD IS GREATER THAN THEY KNEW
Or why would they do what they do
And then pervert al-Islam too
BISMILAH – (IN THE NAME OF ALLAH)
They plant bombs inside of cars
To blow up strangers near and far
But they take things too ******* far
AL-HUMDILILAH – (PRAISE ALLAH)
But not by giving Islam a scar
Who the hell they think they are
Shaytan’s minions? They’re on par
ASTAGFIGALAH (MAY ALLAH FORGIVE)
Those not cursed by how they live
Chopping heads off especially with
A rusty knife known as a shiv
INSHALLAH (IF IT’S ALLAH’S WILL)
Those who maim and also ****
Will soon be presented with the bill
And their ambitions will get them nil
ALLAHU-ALUM (ALLAH KNOWS BEST)
The sins they will have to confess
To get those sins up off their chest
While facing hell fire nevertheless
WALAHI (I SWEAR BY ALLAH)
Hell will find them wherever they are
In their homes near or far
Because they have raised the bar
YA-HAMUKALAH (MAY ALLAH PROTECT YOU)
From those ****
Who constantly beat their war drums
And take advantage of the deaf blind and dumb
Copyright © 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Lucid, abusive
Tongue in cheek divine
Stupid, elusive
Lost soul of mine
A snap of orchestral fingers to summon the suave illustrator
Mohawk punks and minions to smash the limp masturbator
Loveless, acquiesce
Arpeggio flutter ripples
Convalesce, Fancy dress
******* with perky *******
One or two drinks, make it three then five
Keeping the blood warm and love alive
Visceral, peripheral
Dark raven hair
Liberal, scriptural
I couldn’t even care.
I adored her all, her everything, her gleaming demeanor
The subtle wink of her eyes, the glow; even greener
Exotica, ex machina
Street amazon of desert glass sand
No drama, rural karma
Flesh sweating like the heat of Sudan
Dead singers like Cole and Morrison sing of paper moons and Crystal Ships
The mixed CD segues to U2, Pulp, and then a full disk of The Flaming Lips.
"Nightingale", minor scale
The saxophonist played under the street lamp outside
Folktale female
“Another drink?” she abides, two glasses and wine supplied
On her balcony we watched and listened, to the call of urban passion
The wordless music we adored, a testament to our mutual attraction.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
I would rather sleep with a breathing sun
than with his blinking minions.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Conformity kills your self-expression
It only leads to deep depression
Conformity grows and never ends
True things that exist are labeled as trends
Inside the system, the machine presses on
Conformity kills as I recite this poem
Conformity kills all the human opinions
Everyone wants to be too much alike
Conformity releases millions of minions
All of us suffer as we lose the fight
Can't we just stop and try to be different
Ending this crap is so far out of sight
Conformity kills
Drains
Steals
All the clothes from off our back
CONFORMITY KILLS KILLS KILLS KILLS
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
Every night the Dark Shadow comes for me,
Taking away all my hopes and dreams,
Leaving me in despair.
He sends his dark minions after me,
Clawing every happy memory i have
Until there's nothing left.
Until i'm nothing but an empty shell.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
An Amish elder named Mullet,
And some of his ****** clan,
bore hatred deep in their gullets
for their Amish fellow man.
****** seemed out of the question,
It’s rare among Amish, folks say,
(It may be that a horse and a carriage
doesn’t make for a quick getaway.)
So Mullet and some of his minions
Invented a new sort of crime:
Shaving their bearded opponents
one Amish man at a time.
Losing one’s beard among Amish-
A disgrace before God, it’s been said.
Mullet spared no woman either
choping the hair from their heads.
His victims are speechless with anger,
denuded of both beards and hair.
Leave it to someone named “Mullet”
To offend using a Barber’s chair.
Mullet’s in Federal custody;
charged with a crime, not a sin.
He refuses to answer the charges
By the hair of his chinny chin chin.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 8:29 PM UTC
*Soft underbellies of corruption, impropriety and moral decay
Blatantly masquerade as societal bulwarks to aggression and disintegration
Minions fine-tuned to dance to the tune
Of godfather functionaries champion
Progressively retrogressive causes that follow
The course of destruction.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Reason and logic persuade otherwise
It’s thus “safe” to conclude that
A compassion filled individual
Quintessentially embodies a positively radicalized individual
Wielding immense unbridled power
To impact society in ways unfathomable
Whilst in complete understanding of the fact that
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely”
Are you that compassion filled individual??*
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
Please take this as truth
That this is how it is done
If you see someone as enemy
You cease to see a human.
The fact that they are armed
And don’t like who you like
Is enough to create words like
**** **** ****** and ****
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Line up the opposition forces
Against a bullet-riddled wall
And shoot them many times
And see how many will fall.
The ones who do not die
Must be minions of the devil.
They are the enemy, you see.
That’s all. That’s on the level.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
And those people that don’t
Believe in your own form of Jesus,
Like Aerabbs and Jews and such,
Shoot them as much as it pleases.
Because they won’t go to heaven,
And are just heathens anyway
Like them Buddhist dingdongs
Like them ****** lesbians and gays.
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
And people in foreign countries
Well, you can guess how that goes;
Take a look and easily compare
Canadanians to them from Mexico.
The French are Frogs, Spanish spics.
None as good as us Americans.
And nothing good can come out
Of any **** place that is African.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
Now if you find some of this offensive
And if this is revving up your motors,
Just bear in mind, this is what goes on
In the mind of the average voter.
Want to change this, make life better?
Drop your representatives a letter.
Tell them you are on to their villainy
And see them as supporting the REAL enemy.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
**Drop your Grudge Rants
by the door
We Will Not Tolarate
This Anymore
Edit and toss Distasteful Rhymes
Ugly Poems with Vain designs
Haughty thoughts and
bitter words
Childish petty accusing verbs
Who did What to Who and When
Will this Clusterfuck never end?
Selfish actions, Spoiled Children
We Refuse to be your Minions
Like CNN
And Drone Fox news
We've had enough of
Self Serving views
Hurting hearts, far and wide
tender Poets with
tenuous pride
Yet, Strutting and Indignant
for who I ask?
All those involved,
A Donkeys ***
Not a home for
Egotistical Zealots
Nor a place for
flinging pellets
We come in Peace, HP to share
Not get caught in ugly snares
And to the few that
have the gaul.
"If you have nothing decent to say,
say nothing at all"**
**YOU CHOOSE TO USE
HP THIS WAY.
GO AWAY. FIND SOME
WHERE ELSE TO PLAY.**
●HELLO●HELLO●HELLO●
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
Who's comb-over looks like *****
Donald's comb-over looks like *****
Who's scared shiteless on election night?
Donald's scared shitless on election night.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump
Who's got a tie that's long and red?
The Don has a tie that's long and red?
Who pays hookers to *** on beds?
The Don pays hookers to *** on beds.
*** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got hands tiny and slight?
The Don has hands tiny and slight.
Who spews lies out day and night?
The Don spews lies out day and night.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got a vocab small and trite?
The Don has a vocab small and trite.
Who whines Fake News out of spite?
The Don whines Fake News out of spite.
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD?
The Don likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD.
Who likes a spanking when he's bad?
The Don likes a spanking when he's bad.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
How many minions leave today?
So many so far went their way.
Comey, Priebus, Flynn and Bannon,
Tillerson, Spicer, Hope and Ryan.
Leave today. Gone their way.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
The Anger within me is boiling
The situation seems out of control
The fight or flight responses
Is as primal as it can be.
The amygdala, kicks in
And takes over for me.
But why blame it on primal
Cause religion teaches another
Created by the Father
Born of free will are we.
The choice of being noble
Or primal is in my capacity
So I decide to test my confusion
And see who lives inside of me
A person of free will or
A carnal nature of me.
So when I encounter situations
Which would otherwise anger me
I'd like to bellow in rage
I'd like to make believe
Here my animal is taking over
I can feel his grip over me
The struggle within me is stronger
The ground I'm loosing steadily
I laugh! Where are you free will?
See whose got me now in his grip
And then in the flash of the moment
I see the irony!
Suddenly as if the scene's changed
The reactor becomes the actor
Letting go of a long sigh
The drama comes to a halt.
For in that moment, free will kicked in
My freedom I realized
Yes we are carnal beings
And it's not surprising
Because animals behave just as we
But we are armed with an arsenal
To be infinitesimally good
To be heavenly
If only we listen to our inner wealth
Telling us to above all rise
When we give vent to our free will.
It's that moment to decide.
Anger is worst of the lot of monsters
But alone he's usually not.
He has a lot of companions
His minions are all about.
This matter is not simple
Don't get bogged down in psychiatry
Practice makes one perfect
Tackle your fears and threats
Handle each one steadily
Before long you'll know the signs
Arm yourself with humility
His minions will try wreak havoc
And wound your ability
So stop the amygdala from taking over
Ask yourself is it worth?
What is the worse that could happen
if things didn't go your way.
The answer will be astonishing
When you've discovered your treasure
You'll find the demon's flown
What a relief it will be
You'll feel blessed abundantly
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
The King of the World is on his way now,
he always shows up when the chips are down.
Everyone just loves The King of the World,
he always arrives with his banners unfurled.
The King can be a loud chap,
or The King can be quite a quiet mime,
he even puts his pants on
one royal leg at a time!
The King might eat breakfast,
or The King just might not,
he is everything you are,
yet is is all that you forgot.
He's a musician of sorts,
with a very big band,
his arrival is in herald,
throughout every land
-with brass trumpets a-blare,
and snare-drums rat-a-tat,
he makes everyone aware,
that he's now where you're at!
The King marches his forces
through the cities and fields,
assure of his courses,
lying flat beneath his heel.
He revels at the sight of deterioration,
fills his belly with the joy of nations in extinction.
The King grounds everything down to things he scrapes off his boots,
he topples the governs and poisons the cultural roots.
The King's fixations are splashed with spatters of blood,
turning kingdoms into crumbles of ashes and mud.
He bulldozes the bodies into toxic pits of ****
contaminates by obscenity, wringing his hands at the wit.
Lionized by his minions in the empty empires he wrought,
The King's elite ruling class is dictated with rot.
In the aftermath of the bile
of his genocidal, sweet plight,
The King celebrates with great style,
turning the daylight into night.
With bonfires a-blaze on the wicked, windy wasteland,
The King of the World strikes up his big band,
and once marching again will torch and ravish the land,
dropping massive, beautiful bombs for the sake of the thrill,
melting the people and villages and eroding the hills.
The time for The King
always is nigh,
for he is surrounded by
the conjurations of lies.
Some say he is evil,
(but, he's not the Devil, you see)
-He's The King of the World,
he is you, he is me.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
Read, watched, Listened for snippets
Wore the buttons,
Devoured anything…
Apartheid
Had my own personal
Bedroom Revolution...
Jumped high…In place… with the best of them
Little balled up fists…
Pumping…
Chanted the chants
Sang the song
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
And I meant it!
Oh My God I meant it from my
young revolutionary soul
Cried adolescent girl cries
For our South African brothers and sisters
All of the martyrs
Known and unknown
STOP APARTHIED!
STOP APARTHIED!
Free Nelson Mandela!!
To this very day
I love me some Nelson Mandela
Love the man he is
Mourn the man he was
Big Fine Educated Pugilistic
African
Man
Passionate
Compassionate
On that serious mission
Who, though technically still breathing upon his release, in reality
Gave his life
To promote the cessation of
An idea more merciless even than the Rwandan genocide
In that Death
Seldom came quickly
A system more sadistic even than the African Slave Trade
In that it was not based economically
Therefore ALL the
“Kaffers”
Could be maimed or die
And it wouldn’t cost a thing…
Monetarily speaking
A society wherein
Each Black death
Someone’s Job… or
Someone’s Entertainment
Every atrocity’s purpose to serve only to
Douse fuel on the already
Brightly burning fire of
Hate and torture and hate
I love Nelson Mandela
For making like David
And having the *****
To take on the Goliath
Apartheid
Satan is creative
His minions resourceful
We will never know the indignities;
Can only imagine the violations
My Nelson was forced to endure
Imprisoned for 27 years
I love
Nelson Mandela
For having the strength
To keep living
When so many others couldn’t
Still able to put
One
In front of
The other
Albeit gingerly
But still locomoting
Out of hell
On his own two feet…
That alone makes him a hero
To me
In my heart he will always be
The
Big
Fine
Educated
Pugilistic
Passionate
Compassionate
Hero
That the young revolutionary in me
sings about…
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
By Joseph Childress
“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.
All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom
Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless
The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire
Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future
Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare
Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers
Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America
Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ass-kissing will ever be in option
They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins
They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society
The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC