"slothfulness" poems
Reinaldo was the name they gave the great white elephant
Who came to clear the jungles around Sao Paulo
A clever notion that because Reinaldo was born in the jungle
Any jungle would do just fine, Brazilian or Siamese made no difference
Just as clever was the notion that because I was a black man, educated
I would do just fine directing other black men to do work, English or Portuguese made no difference
Was I truly so much a fool, twice over?
Reinaldo occasionally was afflicted with slothfulness
Some of the men thought it was from lack of **** and whip
I was of a mind that it was due to lack of companionship
It was costly enough to ship one giant beast across a great sea
I left a wife, in Maryland, whom I never loved and who never loved me
I admit before the plan was in motion I never considered that Reinaldo could have a family
Sometimes, I wonder, did he have a wife who never loved him?
Loneliness became a common theme in our new home away from home
And Reinaldo and I became friends, at least I thought of him fondly
As far as I could say, of all the men he responded best to me
At times it seemed a load of lumber was hauled as a personal favor
For the handler too soft to handle with fear and anger
But as much as loneliness was a theme, so was change, and death
The lifespan of an elephant compares to the lifespan of men
Were this scheme of mine to have worked as desired
I could have sent for a cow, and made Reinaldo a sire
Soon it was revealed that slothfulness was a symptom of an elephant young, healthy and wise
Who sensed not his own, but a friend's imminent demise
Now I am left to wonder how Reinaldo will fare in a world stranger than I could have known
His softest handler and only friend bedridden, waiting for my disease to take its final toll
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
you are my biggest sin
wrath
greed
envy
slothfulness
pride
lust
gluttony
rolled into one
simply because i want to be the one that decides your fate
want to shove all this poetry into your face when you reach the pearly gates
make you read about the greed that overcame me when i realized that you are all i want and all of you is something i will always be envious of in the arms of another girl
i want to laze in your gaze forever- is it prideful of me to think i am deserving of this, your kiss and the way your voice carries through the darkness when we sit in an empty parking lot with nothing but our words touching, the sentences rolling into each other and tumbling in perfect rhythm like a slinky down the staircase is it wrong of me? to have the need to stuff myself till i'm full of the million and a half things i will never be able to choke down and handle and that's why you are no good for me but i still delight in indulging in you anyway
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
In the pasture of moonlit dreams
they sought the music and the seams
of realities caged by beams
of light hidden in a tomb of sins...
With brush
and pen
they strove
again
to awaken a long-lost friend
Humanity's aid, the devil's ruin,
a savior beyond what's worth pursuing,
for all are judged by saviors awakened
cast in iron
cage awaiting
time unwrought from plans abating
devil's deeds no longer
contemplating
their yields and wicked whims
now dating
cobwebs conjured
by idleness, hungered
schemes distorted
abandoned plunder
salvation came to the sleeping world, hence
for the devil's slothfulness made pence
duplicity broke itself in twain
devils freed and angels made
war in heavenly realms abound
demonic trickery, no longer purchase found
light shone down from truth above
o'er horizon, burgeoning sun commanded its wake
cast its sight upon the world
devils expired as does smoke unfurled
as do shadows in all-consuming light, unmade
and what became of that world then?
When the sun may set, we shall learn again...
What darkness shrouds, we forget, so too the pain,
for what the light sears, the darkness cools,
and what the light frees, the darkness feeds,
what the light starves, the darkness protects,
what the light feeds, the darkness drains,
what the darkness drains, the light protects,
what the light protects, the darkness hungers,
what the darkness hungers, the light favors,
what the light favors, the darkness despises,
what the darkness despises, the light understands,
for well made plans cannot thrive in darkness alone,
if the light should reveal the plans to be tainted
the zenith of sun shall burn the plagues of satan...
Dec 18, 2023
Dec 18, 2023 at 9:52 PM UTC
Ignorance quashed the feline,
Rashness foiled the canine,
Cowardice cost the equine,
Greed consumes each swine,
Slothfulness traps the bovine,
But me? I'm doin' just fine!
Jun 20, 2024
Jun 20, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC
perched,
on a tendril whisp,
of a synaptic vine.
the half formed
thought,
chirped and chirked,
as it chipped away
at the ovipidal embrace of
sleepy, slothfulness....
sublime.
it wanted freedom,
to fly and sing....
no longer,
sleeping or,
being held within...
no longer,
hiding away
from the sun.
no longer,
fearful of becoming...
undone.
influencing,
nada and no-one.
just happy to be,
a small, but clear...
clarion call.
now, standing strong
singing out it's
life embracing, life renewing
song.....
this thought, now has,
substance ....
bright coloured wings
and pride....
in the joy, it brings.
it has grace and grattitude.
a name so wonderful....
to go with,
this bright and energetic
attitude...
meet my new, paridigm...
all bursting with love.
his name..... brio
and he is the bringer
of my new zest, zing
and vivacity......
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
in the chaos there is room for interpreting things as they are,
there's barely a glimpse of hope that we're actually still alive, yeah- the hearts' beating and one may seem attentive to their surroundings but the artistry of the mind is so complex that when so many events get thrown at it all at once it is only natural for it to react in defense mode. yet, multitasking never was, is or will be an art but a false justification for getting things done all the while, things are falling apart. in the mind of one that has been wholly separated and made new- it is an obligation i would dare to say- to depart at once and flee to the arms of the everlasting Father. receive His divine listening ear and pour out our chaotic storms before Him only to go away in abundant peace. yes, it may sound so simple yet the cure is but that easy yet complicated all at once for the pilgrim. hence, we need the reality of our pilgrimage to be ever set before us so that we may therein never equate ourselves with this fleeting world and find a place to rest our head here, no this is our battle ground. oh precious kin- if you were to but merely glance up and see your ever triumphant Home- the Lion of the Tribe of Judah then, and only then will you find rest. but even at that, do not let your comfort lead you to pride and rarely approach the throne of grace just as much as you shouldn't let His never ceasing mercy lead you to slothfulness disguising itself as rest. nope, holy war and peace are hand in hand. learn this oh weary heart of mine.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
I had my fortune told
By a drunk girl
At a masquerade ball
She stank of sweet liquors
And spoke even sweeter
Dulcet divinity
In her blood red lips
Dreams which leave me breathless
And ******
But give me ideas
To push myself beyond
The world of the living
And immortalise my written words
Etch them on side walks
With pink and gold stars
Bored with a Ouija board
Tarot card symbolism drawn
On the back of a pizza box
Spirits and stars
Illuminate secret desires
In the constellations of my mind
And it comes with such strange musings
Penned in a book of shadows
Café crème cigars
Capnomancy on a lazy lakeside
Notebooks and noteworthy slothfulness
Swirls and curls in an azure sky
Modern mythology was thick in the air
I could feel the smile
Of the sun
Little lover on a hallowed eve
No miraculous kiss
Just words that meant something
But mean nothing now
Outside of a delayed fantasy
To tell wistful stories of
Fragile city streets
Cluttered with contemporary art
And gorgeous people
From all walks of life
Walking through mine
They seem to transient
For my liking
Compared to the dusty highways
That I’m used to worshipping the world at
Rock and roll radio
Two-dollar earrings
And fourteen-dollar sunglasses
Denim jacket bought expensive
With patches bought cheap
Licence plates dated from the eighties
And stated from the States of America
Stud the walls of a small-time pub
Graffiti on the bricks
Poetry and lyrics is how I get my kicks
I can feel it in the hot air
In the summer sun
Where I bask in imagined limelight
Just like I felt glory in her lips
And glory in his music
And glory in those cards
I can feel it within myself
My glory
My story
And it is a claim I shall take
It is my destiny
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC