"samson" poems
*I will love you till the birds give up flying
Till eyes give up the habit of crying
I will love you till the cats make a truce with mice
Till probabilistic algorithm needs not a dice
I will love you till the Nile pours water into Victoria
I will love you more than war is cherished by any warrior
I will love you till Butterflies become caterpillars
And even if It's samson pushing the pillars
The pillars of my passion will never crumble
I will never change course even if I stumble
I will love you till the Doves stop to sing
Till entangled bees cease to sting
I will love you till the Sun grows cold
And the moon burns hot and grows old
I will love you till it snows in Hell
I will love you till Ants stop living in hills
Because I need you just as Snail needs her Shell
I will love you even when human heart no longer feels
I will love you till all African states unite
I will love you till old age steals my sight
I will love you till roads cease to have potholes
I will love you even after my destiny calls
I will love you till poems no longer rhyme
I will love you till the end of time*
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
I want to love you like the 90´s,
back when making a playlist
meant dubbing you a mixtape
I want love you like cassette,
the kind of love that even when it gets tangled
we just have to stick a pencil into the spool
and reel it back to normal
I want to love you like portable Sony CD players,
the kind of love that even when it gets scratched
we just have to blow wipe it on our sleeves
because, love,
love just needs a little touch to make it move
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
I have shorn the hair of Samson
And the tiger's claws unsheathed
I have spit into the hurricane
And defied as fires breathed
The minutest one is fastest
And the closest one to me
The largest is the strongest
The most likely to break free
The middle is most cunning
Spits and growls at my resolve
Yet I face the fearsome challenge
As should one the more evolved
I have bravely fought the battle
To triumphant victory
As I fiercely clip the claws
Of not just one cat, but all three
Cori MacNaughton
20Mar2001
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Samson-bound between book shelves,
in the New Aeon Section,
a pale youth nourishes his ego on
bombastic conjunctive adverbs.
(An imagined sea lion balances a
striped ball on the tip of his
snout & slaps his fins in
frenzied approval. Arf. Arf.)
Though absent, the ring master
smiles from the realms of irony.
He holds the bearded lady by the
burl & orders a reception for
the new act.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
December, 1870
After the beef was gone,
after the pork and the lamb,
and the fowl and the fish
and the dogs, and the cats,
and the rats in the gutter,
the butchers turned to the zoo.
We ate the wolves.
We ate the wolves
broiled in sauce of deer,
the antelope truffled and terrined.
We ate the camels
with breadcrumbs and butter,
and when they were all gone,
we sharpened our knives
and primed our guns
and came back for the elephants.
The gunsmith Devisme did the deed,
hurled an explosive ball
through each of their docile heads.
They fell like mountains,
like the pillars of Dagon
pulled down by mighty Samson,
and then we hacked them up
and carted them away to the kitchens,
to feed the wealthy and the rich
in the clubs of bright Paris.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 4:51 PM UTC
me? these days?
i have to bribe bonsai tigers
to fall asleep by giving them
excess treats,
drink myself to a limit
and then take insomnia tablets,
glance at the stars
and gag up a bolshevik black hole,
think about russian
newly-wed millionaires
spending so mcuh the taxes go up,
testifying: well when the full circus
with elephants and missing acrobats
comes... and there's no french revolution
versace... we're in bigger crap
we thought we were...
so i took to peddling, keeping heart
rate with feeling rather than
a heart-rate keeper on the wrist known
as apple / iWank...
you'll never believe the amount
of creativity that comes from Onan...
it's like that story of onan and samson
like it's that story of cain and abel...
you'd have to be a mozart to find a creative
continuum in women rather than
beethoven in the hive of being deaf...
say rich and thus say spend...
say poor and thus say like a primate
with two flint stones... what the hell is this?!
japanese crow reduced their beak for
nut crushing purposes into a car tire.
FIRE! FIRE! PROMETHEUS!
so came the world favouring thought
from prometheus' liver
when in diaper-shelter postman pat delivery
by a stork... but each of us that got the slit
of liver never claimed origins in the apple
adam ******* out when eve forgot
that satan's singularity was expressed in
a pluralism: eat this apple, depilate,
and you and adam will be like the gods...
but then the metrosexual emerged
with shaved legs and a shaved chest...
down the drain that dream went:
as long as you eat the apple and know
you have hairy legs... i'm sure whatever you
say he will be ordained with pleasure to perform...
eve - i need a hammer
adam - here babe
eve - i need a nail
adam - here babe
eve - i need five planks of wood, four legs one like an abdomen
adam - here babe
eve - mash it up
adam - hey babe, what's that?
eve - a ****** table, tapestry for porcelain!
adam - woah! that's great!
eve to god - this adam is a ****** robot!
satan to eve - well... get ready for ******
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Sometimes I catch myself thinkin’ about you with my fingers crossed.
And my eyes closed, like I’m wishing for something.
This is funny to me, because I learned recently
that my brain does this weird thing where it’s incapable of feeling superstitious.
I have always wanted a black cat.
You have always been a wishing well begging for the famished to come and dip their hands.
You wear a sign that says
“Take something, or leave something, doesn’t matter, just leave feeling won”
Leave feeling like you won.
This is how you will leave me.
When my fingers are crossed. Because then the promises don’t matter.
When my eyes are closed. Because it will hurt more to watch you leave
than to wonder if you crawled or if you ran.
When my teeth hurt, from all the chatter, from all the shake, from all the wisdom they extracted.
You know I’ve been leaving bite marks in the crust of the earth,
trying to find a wormhole that will take me to the moment you thought,
“hey, this girl’s gonna write poems about me every Friday” and
“hey, she won’t win me, but maybe she’ll win something”.
I'm the award winning heartache, I'm the pain they thought would last forever.
I'm my grandmother's years of Elvis & Jack Daniel's coming to the surface
and passing themselves off as vertigo.
You're the sum of the times you and the earth were in disagreement over your leaving.
You're the only thing that will shine when the sun dies.
We are Samson and Delilah. You are so sunshine.
I am grateful to the doctors that gave me second chances, I am grateful for the opportunity
that someday is engraved with.
This is how you will leave me.
I pray with my fingers crossed.
and my eyes closed, like I'm wishing for something.
I don't say Amen. I say thank you.
Thank you.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Relaxing peacefully on her lap
Her fingers ran through his hair,
And,speaking soft, soothing words
Waves of calm caressed him there.
Delilah used her feminine wiles,
Honeyed words dripped from her lips,
A sense of serenity enveloped his soul
From her tender fingertips.
The secret of his amazing strength
Was reluctantly revealed to her ears
Leading to open the floodgates
Of times of sorrow and tears.
On her lap he continued to rest,
Unawares of her subtle scheming;
Carefully his luxuriant locks were cut
With scissors sharp and gleaming.
Little could Samson have known
The intentions of her black heart,
Her cunning and overpowering charm
Hit him as with a poisoned dart.
Samson’s strength suddenly left him,
As weak as a kitten he became,
Delilah had truly duped him,
Although it seemed to her a game.
As hard as granite was her heart,
No true feelings of love were there
Else, why would she hurt him
With no chance of any repair?
His life had a very sad ending,
Of this most people have heard,
It’s recorded for our perusal
Within the pages of God’s Word.
The lesson to be learned
From this ghastly episode
Is that disloyalty is as acid
That the heart can corrode.
Like a wilting yellow lily
Under the sun’s searing heat,
Samson’s strength melted
Into a pool of utter defeat.
Remember this we should
And be careful how we act
Lest our deceptive hearts
This drama we re-enact…
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
Set the cheetahs on the loose
There's a thief out on the move
Underneath our legion's view
They have taken Cleopatra
Run run run, come back for my glory
Bring her back to me
Run run run, the crown of our pharaoh
The throne of our queen is empty
We'll run to the future
Shining like diamonds in a rocky world
A rocky, rocky world
Our skin like bronze and our hair like cashmere
As we march to rhythm
On the palace floor
Chandeliers inside the pyramid
Tremble from the force
Cymbals crash inside the pyramid
Voices fill up the halls
The jewel of Africa
What good is a jewel that ain't still precious?
How could you run off on me?
How could you run off on us?
You feel like God inside that gold
I found you laying down with Samson
And his full head of hair
Found my black queen Cleopatra
Bad dreams, Cleopatra
Remove her
Send the cheetahs to the tomb
Our war is over, our queen has met her doom
No more she lives no more serpent in her room
No more it has killed Cleopatra
Big sun coming strong through the motel blinds
Wake up to your girl for now, let's call her Cleopatra
I watch you fix your hair
Then put your ******* on in the mirror, Cleopatra
Then your lipstick, Cleopatra
Then your six-inch heels
Catch her
She's headed to the pyramid
She's working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Working at the pyramid
Working at the pyramid tonight
Pimping in my convos
Bubbles in my champagne
Let it be some jazz playing
Top floor motel suite twisting my cigars
Floor model TV with the VCR
Got rubies in my **** chain
Whip ain't got no gas tank
But it still got woodgrain
Got your girl working for me
Hit the strip and my bills paid
That keep my bills paid
Hit the strip and my bills paid
Keep a ***** bills paid
She's working at the pyramid tonight
You showed up after work I'm bathing your body
Touch you in places only I know
You're wet & you're warm just like our bathwater
Can we make love before you go
The way you say my name makes me feel like
I'm that *****
But I'm still unemployed
You say it's big but you take it
Ride cowgirl
But your love ain't free no more
But your love ain't free no more
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
All it took was three steps up
Doors swung open before me
I approached Him, who sat still and unmoving.
unaffected by Time but ravaged by the pain of doubt and ignorance
All it took was three steps forward
Then, strength and courage left me
Worn-down
Beaten by life’s merciless hand
My knees sank as Life’s hand grasped my shoulders and I felt his burden
My whole being collapsed upon the marble floor
The sound echoed and cruelly dealt a strike to my ears,
My senses and my soul
As if Moses struck the rock with his staff
The water came forth
Flowing freely from my soul against sallow, weary skin
Hands trembling
Body aching
I closed my eyes
I saw darkness but an image appeared
****** and bruised
It took all my strength
To utter three questions:
Why (to the Father)
Why does the grass grow, rich and fertile
only to provide for those that destroy it?
Why does my neighbor strip me bare and steal my coat
To leave me unsheltered from the cold wind’s bitter punishment?
Why must I walk this lonely and sullen earth
While the black crow pecks violently at my flesh?
Why? For I have loved but have been despised in return.
Who (to the Son)
Who is the snake that lies?
The brother that prays and the brother that kills?
The husband that beats and the wife that endures?
And the ****** Mother that reigns over all, even you?
Even me.
Who? For I know none and all of them.
Where (and to the Holy Spirit)
Where does the sky end and the Earth begin?
Is it where the body ceases to be and the soul takes over?
Is it where I made my first steps
And tumbled right after?
The indeterminable line between sea and sand;
Truth and lies
Where? For I have looked and looked.
My lips, salted and mad, trembled
Pain pierced my soul
I felt it all
And felt it again
My body began to thrash
I felt it upon me
Misery, sadness, death, despair
I became Samson, tearing down the pillars upon the accursed Philistines
I raged and roared
For hope, wisdom, strength, and faith
I opened my eyes
And Light filled me
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
The first time that Delilah saw Samson
she said to herself,
“That man will be mine.”
she said,
“Yes.”
He laughed when she first begged to bind him,
“I cannot be bound.” He declared,
“I have brought one thousand men to their knees.”
She replied, “So have I.”
and on her knees
she showed him how.
Their favorite game to play was Pagan,
he would act as sacrifice and she, the priest,
teaching him to worship
at her temple,
teaching him the best death
was deathless.
Long before she cut his hair,
she made him weak.
Long before they gouged his eyes,
he was blinded.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
On almost the incendiary eve
Of several near deaths,
When one at the great least of your best loved
And always known must leave
Lions and fires of his flying breath,
Of your immortal friends
Who'd raise the organs of the counted dust
To shoot and sing your praise,
One who called deepest down shall hold his peace
That cannot sink or cease
Endlessly to his wound
In many married London's estranging grief.
On almost the incendiary eve
When at your lips and keys,
Locking, unlocking, the murdered strangers weave,
One who is most unknown,
Your polestar neighbour, sun of another street,
Will dive up to his tears.
He'll bathe his raining blood in the male sea
Who strode for your own dead
And wind his globe out of your water thread
And load the throats of shells
with every cry since light
Flashed first across his thunderclapping eyes.
On almost the incendiary eve
Of deaths and entrances,
When near and strange wounded on London's waves
Have sought your single grave,
One enemy, of many, who knows well
Your heart is luminous
In the watched dark, quivering through locks and caves,
Will pull the thunderbolts
To shut the sun, plunge, mount your darkened keys
And sear just riders back,
Until that one loved least
Looms the last Samson of your zodiac.
2.7k
All night the army came up from Gilgal
To get to the killing field, and that's all.
In the ground, warf and woof, lay the dead.
I want to die in My own bed.
Like slits in a tank, their eyes were uncanny,
I'm always the few and they are the many.
I must answer. They can interrogate My head.
But I want to die in My own bed.
The sun stood still in Gibeon. Forever so, it's willing
to illuminate those waging battle and killing.
I may not see My wife when her blood is shed,
But I want to die in My own bed.
Samson, his strength in his long black hair,
My hair they sheared when they made me a hero
Perforce, and taught me to charge ahead.
I want to die in My own bed.
I saw you could live and furnish with grace
Even a lion's den, if you've no other place.
I don't even mind to die alone, to be dead,
But I want to die in My own bed.
2.6k
This is a place on the way after the distances
can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
raveling courses to stop in a single moment
and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs
some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads
to the end and never touched each other until they
arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left
until they could be repaired some that went only
to occasions before my time and some that have spun
across other countries through uncounted summers
now they go all the way back together the tall
cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings
of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's
manure cart the year he wanted to store them here
because there was nobody left who could make them like that
in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels
that Merot said would be worth a lot some day
and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson
that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass
behind the old house by the river where he stuffed
mattresses in the morning sunlight and the hens
scavenged around his shoes in the days when the black
top-hat sedan still towered outside Sandeau's cow barn
with velvet upholstery and sconces for flowers and room
for two calves instead of the back seat when their time came
2.7k
the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries pulled a warm
comforting silence around
us and read separate books
i remember the first time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a three room
apartment on burns avenue
mommy always sat in the dark
i don’t know how i knew that but she did
that night i stumbled into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve always been
a night person or perhaps because i had wet
the bed
she was sitting on a chair
the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through
those thousands of panes landlords who rented
to people with children were prone to put in windows
she may have been smoking but maybe not
her hair was three-quarters her height
which made me a strong believer in the samson myth
and very black
i’m sure i just hung there by the door
i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady
she was very deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father to come home
from his night job or maybe for a dream
that had promised to come by
“come here” she said “i’ll teach you
a poem: i see the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the pains
Nikki Giovanni, “Mothers” from My House. Copyright © 1972 by Nikki Giovanni.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
FOR Mwima Zubair Naser
*(Gone too soon,when still in bloom
In the line of duty,what a pity)
In memory of you I'll always cry
I won't stop no matter how hard I try
Why do you have to promise
And then just pass on like this?
Especially when you are all gone
Leaving us in this world on our own
Did you have to leave this young
When I lack any beautiful speech
On my saddened tongue?
When the ball is still on pitch?
You had Samson's courage
Like a car with shocking milage
Did you have to go when I need you
Did you have to evaporate like morning dew
From the fragile petals of our youth
Did you have to join the boots?
It isn't fair to go when I cannot send you off
When I haven't condolence,not half a loaf
Did you have to go so soon
And leave my heart out of tune?
Say hallo to Wilber and the others
The thought of you all really bothers
I've never been one to say goodbye
And saying it will all be but a lie
To me you still breathe and live
That you're gone I cannot believe
I hope you made it through
And all these rumors ain't true*
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
The mirror, mirror lies
Reflecting back at me
All I see is powder
Where could I be?
Numb from the Columbian
A new national war bond
A roman hierarchy
Bang their drums obscenely
To One Right Wing God
The dragon took the towers
But man, it’s happen before
It’s been real hard to ***** all these drugs
To crush all over my mirror
And hide my ugly mug
When did I change?
I think I know who’s behind it completely
Samson’s in my blood
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
You are God sent
You are a walking church bell and every time you take a step you ring, and I swear even atheists stop what they're doing just to praise you
I look into your eyes and watch as the lamp of your body illuminates your soul and understand what Matthew meant when he said you were full of light
You speak the language of angels and the vibrations of your voice cause me to go so deep into meditation that it causes an imbalance in all 114 of my chakras, and you always wonder why I only speak to you telepathically
Every time our lips meet I go 6,000 years back in time and relive the moment Adam and Eve took a bite out of the forbidden fruit and the taboo taste never fails to be worth it
I know that you're God sent
because you have God's Scent
I know that you're God sent
because you ascend into the sky with wings as strong as Samson
before he was tricked and deceived by Delilah
I know that you're God sent
because you're bound to betray just how they all betrayed our Messiah
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
A baseline that you feel in your chest,
Humming thick in your ears,
And your mouth,
You just want to live in their blur of impactful words,
That you don’t understand,
Because it’s just a baseline to you,
But have you ever felt so proud of someone?
That what they’re saying, or what they’re playing or who they’re being,
Becomes the only thing that’s keeping off the rain,
And you can see every tooth in the room,
Every heart that becomes unbroken and
every heart that breaks,
Well it’s a shooting star,
Baby it’s gold dust,
Because his gaze is tattooed on your body,
Under your sweater,
Under your skirt,
Yours is a crime scene littered with his fingerprints,
But you’re no ****** victim,
Jackie,
Jane,
Joan,
Wife,
Mother,
Daughter,
Survivor,
Protector,
Warrior,
Woman,
Know when it’s dark,
And subtle shadows are all that remains of your bodies,
Finding all the bones in your shoulder,
The piano strings that move your fingers,
And each indentation of your spine,
Is a bible,
But God won’t give him strength,
It’s your skeleton that is fortitude,
You’re the dragon protecting the castle,
You’re Rosie the Riveter,
You can hold up the world with perfectly manicured hands,
You will listen,
And you will care,
Let him breathe in the fractions of your soul that you exhale,
That way,
Every standing ovation and
every wound that heals,
Is saturated with the influence of you,
Though you don’t understand,
That baseline you can feel in your chest,
It is your to be proud of too.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
*che turns in his grave
and lumumba sheds a tear
to think of the things they're doing
these absurd modern types
rebels without a cause
freedom fighters with no clue
what it's all about or the reason
to forego all luxury
till your colours flutter in the wind
meanwhile all you can do is
dream about pizza on a neon-lit evening
a girl sitting on your lap
a nonchalant scowl on your face
and the inevitable fizzy a-bubbling
this man who has never been oppressed
spots a mane of hair done like samson's
seeing my interest he puts a business card on the table:
freedom fighter, the card says
how different today's struggles are!*
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
Samson fell for Delilah while being the enemy of her
Philistines people, but the gods chose her to take
his power.He tried to make her be a good woman.
Delilah wrestled with The Lord, in fact, using her powers
of seduction and deception against the man.This way, she
found the Samson's secret. She could subdue him to be captured.
For sure, she felt sorry for what she did, when she understood
what real love means, but it was too late to change anything.
For Samson, love has been senseless. He sadly ceased to
continue this fight with her. He ought to love God more than
he loved the woman. He ought to know that faith involved the
sacrifice of sinful love. He became a simple , blind man.
He destroyed the temple of the Philistines, all their idols and
the people being inside it, after demanding the divine power,
when only God's love and the Holy faith became important
in his human life. Probably, Delilah cried for doing what she
did to him ,but she had to fight against the enemies of her
gods. In fact,she has never really loved any man,because she
didn't meet The Lord while loving Samson,while trying to find Him.
She would know that Lord means honest love, truth and justice.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
She fills her head with tales of love and tragedy,
In war-torn cities and rival families to ancient melody,
Tossing and turning, on her bed
She lives the lives of lovers so young and foolish and sweet.
She dreams of Orpheus, his melancholy and his music.
Of Seigfried and his journey to the damsel he seeks.
Then Samson who fell twice in the hands of a woman.
And Romeo who no longer felt the need to run.
Now,the morning light urges her to wake up.
The dreams disappear and the longing suddenly stops
For she knows that though tragedies may happen,
She still looks forward to that day she will meet him.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
"Your eyes are my weakness"
I see right through you
Exploit the fact you're blind without me
"Your scent is my pronesness"
My humanly aroma can turn you off
So I mask it with axe after shave and Gucci guilty cologne even when we home
"Your lips are my vulnerability"
I understand when you ramble on you want me to grab you by the face and kiss you like our first date.
It reminds you why you fell in the first place.
"Your hair is my susceptibility"
So like Samson let Delilah cut it off. A man of God blinded by she who he called his third wife. Became a weak for sin so legs I grabbed like pillars and let them fall on me.
"Your touch is my humility"
I know where to feel to bring you back to me. The power of being your first and only. As my hands run through your body like a ship in an ocean.
"Your lust is my inferiority"
Bring you to your knees when the tides are high. Tell you that I love you right before I....
"Your love is my superiority"
Cheat. The fact that I know you love me gives power to the lies I feed... you. Stories I tell that can't be disproved even if you looked well.
Love blinds the eyes, since one thinks with the ***** that beats. Led by impulse all it does is repeat. Witness my parents split after 25. For the last ten only kissed on New Year and valentine's.
Why we live a lie, we can fall in and out of love over night. So I rather lay with you her, and her in these hotel sheets and avoid being heart broke like my father is. Smelling like great *** guided by lust. Is what a good stroke does.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC