"reformers" poems
Rebels are dreamers
Leaders are reformers
And dusty attic boxes are always full
Lovers are concealers
and Musicians are redeemers
I guess that makes me a
Believer
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
How shocked was I when my mistress, Filthy Fiona,
Told me one summer's day she had one up the spout;
After all, the silly ***** was on the pill (and in any case
Half the time my seed had gone up the lesser used route).
But, accidents will happen when you least expect them:
Maybe her recent attack of diarrheoa had upset the apple cart.
O, how relieved was I when she told me she had booked herself in
To the Marylebone Abortion Clinic for a good old pump-out session;
And, even better (much better), I wasn't expected to foot the bill
As her private health insurance would cover it nicely,
Thank you very much indeed, God bless you, my darlin';
The excessive premiums were clearly a fine investment.
Like the gent I am, I offered to drive her there in my pink Porsche 911,
But she insisted I need only pick her up after the remedial session
As she had made other travel arrangements to get there; and
One cannot argue with a dame under such trying circumstances.
How I would have relished the amusement of those who saw the ****
Arrive in one bloke's car, deposited caringly with a consoling hug,
And collected by a different chappie, with a kiss on her plump cheek.
But, after all, 'twas only fair I found out later (with a gay grin)
When she told me she really had no idea who the father was
Although her two selected chauffeurs were the best two bets.
How I laud the foresight of the percipient abortion law reformers:
Our sad world has more than enough unwanted ******** as it is.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Bored living in the tombs
Those turned to names of cities
Where we live and visit until
Too many of them are carved on stones
Openly standing books
Echoing our names on the bills
Sent by devil or in Dave's name sometimes
Street signs, silent police?
Scary if you know they were those
Underground names now holding posters
Directing you to your tomb home
Until a square-meter palace is sold to you
These revolutionary thinking reformers
Who called themselves gravediggers
All names have to be digged out now 'cause
They are running short of lands to continue
Urbanization. Hear what they say:
You could die eternally but this cemetery
Can only be used for 70 years, legally
Your cinerary caskets will be displayed
In sky-high buildings, closer to the heavens
Lucky if yours is made of sandalwood
Carved and painted as Red Mansion where
You could have wonder-ful dreams
Your friends and enemies could smell
The phosphorous glowing in the wind
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
1044. BC
King. David. Writes. On the. Run from Saul
". Keep me. Safe. O. Lord in you I take. My. Refuge."
The. Year. 1338.
A. Pestulance. Lies. Untouched. for. Hundreds. Of. Years. Suddenly. Awakens. .
China. The once. Great. Mongolian. Empyre Finds. a. Gateway to the. West,
Only to become. Ravished by. Sickness. ,.
Cappas. Catapult corpses. ,
Cappa. S. Merchants. Flee. On. Death. Boats. Set. For. England ,
Prosperous. England's. Green fields. ,
A. Monks. Prayer
". Dear. Lord. Keep. This. Sickness. Away from these. Green fields. "
Yet. Flanders. Ships. Sailed. ,
Port. To. Port. The. Merchants. Sailed .
Fear. Stalked. the. Deckhands. ,
Stay away "
Stay. Away ". Cry. After. Cry. , untill
The. Ghost ships. Deadly. Cargo. Of. Fleas. , and. Rats. Sailed. Into. The. evenings. Sun.
Airborne !,!!!
Boils
Fever,
The. Spewing ,
Dead. In. Six. Days.
They. Danced. The. Macarbra. , ..
Mothers. Abandoned their children. ,
Fields. Lay. Empty. Of. Harvest ,
Death. Stalked. England's. Green. Fields. Like. a. Table. Cloth set. For. Tea .
God. Is. Love. ,
God. Does. Not. Condem.
Those. He. Loves. To. Damnation. For their sin.
All. Will. Be. Well. do not. Fear.
For. All. Will. Be. Well. ""
Julian of. Norwich. Had. Seen a. Great. Vision
Burn.
Her. Manuscript. Must. Go. To. The. Flame"
The. Reformers. Came. .
With. Pitchfork and. Intent.
Yet. They. Found. Nothing.
Nothing but. An impenetrable Fortresses of. Love.
Ashford. In. Middlesex. Twenty. Sixteen.
Dudley. Road. Sunday. Morning ,
God. Forgives our sin.
and. Heals. Our. Deseses. ""
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
You are a media
A pride of the world
A means to an end
An accurate accessory
The social in the media
It welcomes it's user
An epitome of ideas
Where education takes place
Education is part of socialization
The social media educates it's user
It grants many the ability to know
It serves without delay
The social media is humble
It has accommodated a lot of junks
To produce a Juarez
for jubilance
The social media joins parties together I would have not had poems to gather
Hello poetry has become a father
The social media is indeed the mother
The social media is patient
It has been denied by penitent
But their accusations are pending
Untill they get understanding
Let's develop love for the social media
There is nothing not found in the social media
Reformers need social media
For clarification come to social media
For education come to social media
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 5:00 PM UTC
When she was born,
the sky agreed with her eyes
And changed it's shade of blue.
Beneath the earth
gems heard her cries
And took on this tactic too.
Dug out
Cut out
Polished and cleaned
Rubies reflect her brilliant blush
Upon the crowns of kings and queens.
And who ever called it condensation,
Set this notion to retire;
For when she walks upon the earth
it proceeds to perspire.
All enchantment
All delight
All beauty
All splendor
All field of sight
Are echoes of her reflection I see,
That paints the world surrounding me;
With colors comprised
of her soul's winter white light.
And scattered by her summer frame.
She is the prism
that divides into color the white
And there is from where
all painter's paints came.
Like antics of actors
And play of performers
She simmers the spur
that gives rise to reformers.
Resolving the nature
Of earth, moon and sun.
She
is from where
All colors do come.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Since he fifth century, the feast of St Nicholas was celebrated December 25th
little is known of his life except that in the fourth century he was
Bishop of Myra( in modern day Turkey )
Legend has it that his wishing to aid people in need and do so anonymously, he would throw small bags of gold in their windows
The bags would land in the stocking hung by the fireplace to dry
Other stories from Germany of a
Man and his wife who had a toy shop
The poor children would look in the window of the storefront
at all the beautiful hand made toys their parents could not afford
so on Christmas Eve the couple would
Put a toy on the porch of every child’s house
Legends of generosity encouraged others
to give gifts at this time of year
But in the 16th century some reformers felt Nicholas was too closely identified with the Catholic Church and replaced him with other figures in Germany and England’s Father Christmas
The name of St Nicholas survived however,
through adapted to various languages Sinterlaus in Dutch,
became Santa Claus in English
It was Clement Moore in the famous poem
“The Night Before Christmas”
who equipped Santa Claus with
a sleigh, reindeers,a pipe,a bag
and an entry through the chimney
The true reason for the season is the Birth of Jesus
It’s a Birthday party
We need to give Jesus gifts
as well as others
My Gifts to name a few
The Gift of love, faith, belief
Well you get the idea
What do you have for Jesus this year!
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC