There is more at:
OPEN MIC ENCORE I
OPEN MIC ENCORE II
OPEN MIC ENCORE III
Learn to walk with my shoulders back
learn to talk and not care if someone hears.
Like to dance when no one else will
learn to laugh 'cos laughter is free.
Boo! How do you do -
better wake up and start loving it
'cos this might be the only life you get.
So throw your funky shoulders back
and boogy like you've got a purpose.
A girl said she'd noticed a change in me.
In this world there ain't no prophecies,
there's just the life that you make
and nothing besides, so I'd rather smile.
I am a Man, from Momma’s right hand.
My father is the man, the one
From whom I am shadowed a man.
My baby fro’, I am Man;
Guns on my biceps, pecks and tecs on my chest,
I am Man; stubble on my chin,
Broad chin, I am Man; second son of Ma’,
Many sons of Sam, I am Man.
My name is Ibadan, Iroquois, Cherokee, Hindi, Tripoli, Galilee, Chocowinity,
My name is man.
Man a’ bad man, rasta’ man, brotha’ man,
White man, the man…man I am.
I cry, lie, fly, style, I’m so fly, I die, she’s wife
Damn I try! I am one and one’s half. I am man of woman;
Woman is mine. I am Saddam, Bin
Laden, Washington, Bush man, Mia Hamm.
I was the first to talk, the first to walk,
the first to be chalked. My name is Adam, my brother is Cain
Eve is my pain, she who pours this rain.
You came and took from mine, a rib to place in thine,
I look in the mirror but I do not see
my father, or even a Pharisee, for I am man.
I was man, the son of Him.
Yes, I was Abraham the Man, but
You made me lesser a son of Sarah;
You stole my shadow.
Once I was everything, for in his image I was Man;
The God. But a fruit salad changed that,
and you wrought about Man. I shame to be whom
I am, this man; I don’t want to remain this man, son of Sam.
Can anything in this world take us back to when I was I?
When Sampson slid from Delilah’s eye?
I don’t want to cry. I want to die, lie, and rise.
Make me man again.
Make me wise.
Look outside reality for answers.
Though I question life...
Why are we meant to exist.
I don't see our propose.
I don't understand the meaning to live.
What's wrong with me?
Why do I question the boundaries of the cycle..
Life and Death.
Heaven and Hell.
God and Satan.
What am I looking for?
What's my true answer.
To look outside reality
And find out that only we can
Rely on faith and trust?
No I think there are many more answers.
Only to be answered by he himself who knows all.
Not me, not you, but someone so powerful.
Who knows more than what the world has come too.
What are we meant for?
Who are we meant for?
Its the question that drives us wondering and questioning.
Til the beginning of a new destiny.
As I wind on down the road.
I question the laws of nature.
Its the question that drives me.
WHEN THE ROOSTER CROWS
In the morning the rooster will crow,
And I want to be ready, when it does.
I want to be awake when the Rooster crow’s.
I don’t want to be awakened.
I’ll already have plowed my fields,
And pulled every weed that grows,
For when the Rooster crow’s,
Oh when the Rooster crow’s.
I’ll be dressed, and up and waiting,
For when tat chest puff’s out,
and great wings flap that wind of change,
The announcement without words
That a Sun is rising,
A new day, a new Light.
And I’ll be there,
Standing on the front porch of my house,
Waiting, as I wait now
for when the Rooster crows.
By David Lee Ward
Motorcycles of all types,
Inspire me to take flite!
Flite as in 180 on the speedo,
Cheat death, live higher creedo.
When I hear that tuned exhaust,
The sound invites me to get lost,
Lost in the sound motion of speed,
Until I am guaranteed.
My blood pumping in my veins,
I feel the pressure to restrain,
Still, I push my speed further,
Daring fate to not recover.
Then by some miracle of sense,
Either common or intelligence,
Control returns to my brain,
I back it down before the pain!
Sitting by the light of an open flame,
Thinking back on mist-tipped days.
Six strings have become my gods.
Worshipping each as I choose.
Will anyone ever hear this song I now play?
Only my long-necked friend and I will ever know.
Softly I pick the night away.
Talking with my friend Scarred Guitar.
TRUE LOVE, THE BEGINNING
What do you know of love?
You know nothing but the glove
Give her the world?
You just might let her pain unfurl
Frowns and downs are a way of life
Holding her in your arms might just cause the both of yours nothing but
Promises and kisses gently made
can be the devils ace of spade
Beware, be forewarned, tip toe through that path in life
Do not, do not I say, gain a wife!
I beg of you and all your young kind
With so spirited of mind
Do not speak of love and youthful follies
Give heat and love to your aspirations,
To your dedication and devotion.
…a higher education
A LETTER FOR LIFE
So long, love, farewell to You
Unbinding is sore to do
Never have I felt so flushed
So touched by love, but in your touch
Hope you felt this, little girl
In the middle of my whirl
Now it's time to let you go
Even if I'll miss you so
Believe me - I do believe in You
Let yourself just turn into
Everything You dream to be
Someday your soul will be free
Shall You take my words? Please do.
You recall me if there's doubt in You:
Only you can take your ride -
Unleash the love that lives inside.
It's flurrying outside, the trees are bare
and I wonder why has life brought me here?
Should I just sit here and let life fly by
or should I do something before its too late?
No friends, no shoulder to cry on...
is this why I left my home and family?
I ask myself and I sit to ponder...
why am I here?
No aim, no clue, 23 and I still don’t know what to do.
Thought I was in love, so I tried it for a while
and now I sit here with a computer by my side........
I know I can fight this, I must
for I have so much to live for and so little to lose
I can’t, I won’t any more- sit here and lament
First thing tomorrow I will go out and conquer the world
That's what this kid needs
You know, like they do in LA.
Or I don't know,
I've never been there
I'm a southern girl
So I guess he just needs to chill
Like they do down in the south.
Sit against a Magnolia tree
Wise with the hot summer heat.
It will speak to you
of history and sorrow and joy.
There lies the secrets,
Underneath the brown dirt and the earthworms
I used to play with as a child,
Name them, keep them for a few hours
And pretend they were all that mattered.
Listen to the fireflies
Hovering around you in June with love
you've never tasted.
Let go and fly with your arms spread out
Clouds of promise
Not philosophical jargon
meant to confuse someone even more
than life already does.
What more do you need to know?
And then knowledge will find you
Unexpectedly but satisfying
With hummingbirds and watermelon seeds
Reminding you of a time
of sunshine and laughter
Cute boys hiding behind the swings
Waiting to chase the girls as they in turn
And catch them…. Sometimes
The snow comes d
to earth. At first sight, the children cry out with joy. The kids
run outside to catch the first flake on their tongue. They build a
snowman, build a fort, and always have a snowball fight.
The people ski on the first day of winter. They T
N down the run in the new fallen power. Feeling the breeze on
their face they feel a new freedom. The feel of the snow under your
skies is like your gliding on water makes you think of when you will be on the
Spring comes to warm our souls. The sun melts away all the snow.
Although the snow is gone the memories of the perfect season will be cherished
in our hearts for ever and ever.
La surface de la Mer est Placide.
Is this an incantation?
Then add a dragonfly, blown skittering over the gravel by the Ancient
Wing of the Louvre;
Rainsodden Winter Walnut Leaves, the color of Susie’s hair;
and the airborne lilt of an accordion, playing a tune older than its Gypsies,
sung without words even, by voices, sung before that by the wind;
A Tune so old, older than the Atlas Mountains,
Sung unknowingly in the cloistered gardens of Saint Severin
and thought to be Christian.
AN EVANGELIST'S 30 PIECES OF SILVER
by Marcia Schechinger
And a burst of energy he blew
starting the quiet of masses
And he reveled in his sainthood
as he roared in his pompous crusade
And the shekels were removed from the pockets
and the room sounded with the clinking of loot
And still the evangelist cried even louder
"Save us from our material doom"
And the green paper became more abundant
as teary sinners pounded their chests
And the multitude left depleted yet lifted
for they were lighter with their pockets suppressed
And the evangelist was exhilarated
as he counted his own worship in mirth
And the devil whispered "isn't it good to be Christian"
at least while you're here on this earth
And the heavens wept for their children
and God hung His head down in shame
For His bible was used in a pillage
to betray in this sinful exchange
Freda J. Mooney
Another starry eyed Messiah
taking to the streets.
Telling of his wondrous gift
to all he meets.
Listen to him cautiously
Do not let him rape your soul.
He will spin his tales and seduce
then demonically reduce
You to an empty shell.
In your own private hell.
The powdered dust he sells to you
Will surely make you fly.
When you crash and burn
Will you want to die?
Save yourself and stay away
This gift will surely kill
Do you want to live another day?
Learn to be still.
In the night sky I saw Orion
Jupiter and Mars
Venus was inconsolable
hiding behind an Oort Cloud
In May or December I wished upon a star
Betelgeuse or Rigel
Pleiades was obscured by Hubble
some satellite or such
I was making love beneath a full moon light
when caution blew a hole in the wind
a meteor shower was burning nightingales
from the sky
some fate took hold of constellations
and brought a black hole near
time was stood on its tail
space became a menace
as the sun spun out of control
CAN WALLFLOWERS BLOOM?
Rheeta-Lou (Rous) Roepke
They stand and wait for the attention given roses and tulips
They don’t seem to shine as brightly
They can clothe themselves in brighter clothing,
Change the color of their petals,
But can they bloom?
They wilt in the presence of indifference
They pale in the light of disregard
They fade in the shadow of callous words
The world moves around them
Swirling in its eddies of selfishness
The wallflower looks on, dreaming
Dreaming of belonging, of joining the roses and tulips
The nourishment they so crave is denied
The wallflower wilts, pales, fades,
Eventually dying of loneliness
Can wallflowers bloom?
Show me how to reach my true denial,
Show me how to strangle my own soul,
Show me how to reach my deepest darkness,
If only so that I can make you whole.
Teach me the meaning of true hatred,
Teach me the meaning of true love,
Educate me in the ways you live by,
I'm near the edge, give me a little shove.
Force me into deeper depths of madness,
Show me all the demons that I hold,
Wrap your arms around yourself dear,
You're going to need shelter from the cold.
Blatantly destroy all my perceptions,
Shove the dagger deeper in my back,
Cleanse all the feeling from within me,
Hold me as I slowly fade to black.
I'm drowning in the sea of your creation,
Choking on the lies you let me hear,
Clutching tight to my complete damnation,
I have become everything I fear.
BORN IN AFRICA
By Itumeleng Motuba
it is all a question of who and why
clip my tongue to suit your needs
as I watch my dreams go by
for tis my nation I try to feed
It is not an easy task to go past the sun
and run to touch the horizon
But my happy, chubby, pretty face
is amongst the few in my race
I chose not to distress
I look for the silver lining
motions of emotions I've learned to suppress
and even end up not minding
After all I resemble the soil
And go around fixing turmoil
I was born not From Mecca
But was well grommed in Africa
"Sure I can"
Silent and discreet, vigilant and sweet
Torn up undercover, parted due to heat
Forget the dazing sun, think of then and now
You left her back behind, you lasted anyhow.
Rise again and bleed, her face should slowly fade
In a world of sinners, you have found your place
Now just try some more, bright eyed in the wind
Turn and face it all, there's a chance that you could win
But now it rains again, pathetic fallacy
You have fallen off your stance, you have slipped on grease
There stood a man
playing bag-pipes on the hill
He just stood there
playing by his own will
That man stood there
full of content
and people started to stare
wishing he'd give up the bag-pipes for lent
That man returned
day after day
The people asked for a court injunction
and the judge said nay
One day the local news crew
spotted this man
they broadcasted him live
then everyone was a fan
The man liked to play
but for reasons unknown
scientists were already planning
to save his brain in a jar, or clone
One shining morning
there was a bright sound
a drunk man sang in the street
this weeks new star was found
Our bag-piping friend
however still stood
playing his bag-pipes
as loud as he should
oh no not this time
but he wasn't disheartened
he was just fine
He played cause he wanted
and not for the fame
If he played for anything else
he'd just be lame
That man still stands there
propped up by a stick
The man is dead
Yeah, its a little sick
So what if its creepy
the point is still there
he played for the love
and people still stare
Afolabi Michael Sylfad
Let me to the minds of writing hands say:
Poesy is not a passing fancy which
Changes when changes it grates on its way
Or bends when at a bend it itself finds.
It's true; it is not marauding man who
His faith could forgo. When a halt it finds
Along its long eclat stream, still it looms.
It looms moving tempests, tornadoes ... . To
The hearts of heavy men I'd say: hear well
Those bibulous words brewing in your soul,
Forage from the fountain, spring! frugal, yet
Arcane, plain; beaming to bittered John, joy
Fallacies nor mirage which comes not from.
Poesy is poesy when poets pound on sheets
Life as it is, kind and cruel, and ... will be.
When you look at the sky, you just want to fly.
Every day i'm on time, to write another
When I write I see, I'm another
The things I see, are not a mystery to
Its just another day, I'll be happy like today.
When I could write and read, and not see my culture bleed.
When I look at the sand, I feel so grand.
When were on our last piece of grain, Its another step that we have to gain.
I look at the ocean, But not my Promotion.
Seeing the things I have to gain, but its all pain.
Right from the beginning, i could see you winning.
I could become the biggest of the biggest, but I wont be the richest.
You can take my roll, but no my soul.
I may look blue, but i'm no through with you.
I may fall down, but I wont stay on the ground.
I will get up, but you wont live with much luck.
I don't want to play, so move out the way.
I could feel the air, but not my hair.
But my writing is a Fantasy, even though i'm writing Poetry.
By Jane Sehl Johnson
In the early morning, long before I rise,
the wind screams down Red Canyon, I hear its mournful cries.
It presses round the cabin door begging to get in.
It howls and moans in low sad tones as round the rocks it spins.
It misses you my darling, you've been away so long,
when the wind can't find you, the rocks sing out your song.
Blow him home oh canyon wind, blow him home today.
Wind races down the mountain and out across the plain.
It shakes our little cabin and then moves on again.
I picture you beside me, I'm wrapped within your arms.
The howling wind is like a friend, we're sheltered safe and warm.
Blow him home oh canyon wind, blow him home today.
I fear your cold and lonely, no shelter from the storm.
Blow him home oh canyon wind, keep him safe from harm.
How I Feel
(Samuel C. Bennett)
Baby I think about you everyday
And I want to please you in every way
I just need time cause I'm a little slow
But when I catch up I'll let you know
I'm like Selena cause I'm always "Dreaming of You"
Hoping in the end we make it through
I'm here to talk if you ever have something to say
I'm like Chingy I'm "Only One Call Away"
I know sometimes when I talk it makes you shiver
But baby I would never make you "Cry Me a River"
I think of you as more than a friend
I'm like Ginuwine "my whole life has changed since you came in"
When I'm with you it's hard to get mad
Guess it's cause I'm like Usher "I Got It Bad"
I had never thought about you as more than a friend
But now I'm like Eminem "I'll be your Superman"
This is how I feel about you
Guess it's cause I'm like Fabulous "I'm so into you"
When you're by yourself and you don't know how to feel or what to do
Remember I'm like Aaliyah "I Miss You"
I wonder if my love for you is true
Until I found out I'll be like Kci&JoJo an "thank God that I
finally found You"
I am talking of Delhi and not Moscow
Cloud cover ominous and low,
Not wake-up calls from the sun
Bluing the blue through wooden slats
In suburban San Francisco,
Not even dappled sunlight
Up Yosemite way.
A painter would have caught
The scraggly light between the pines
Beautiful slanting morning light
When everything is soothing,
Nothing is bright.
But poets have no vision you see---
They just write poetry.
I AM POEM...
I am a confused girl
I know I have to make a decision
I wish that him and I could be together
I hate that he holds back
I miss the things he used to tell me
I fear that one of us will get hurt
I hear his voice
I smell his cologne
I regret the day I started feeling something for him
I take back everything I let him know
I dance to the music that reminds me of him
I don't want him to stop feeling something for me
I confuse him with all of my feelings
I am happy because at least I have him in my life
I love the way he makes me laugh
I am a confused girl
Otis aka NotReady
SANTA CLAUSE, EASTER BUNNY, FATHERS
THINGS LITTLE CHILDREN USED TO BELIEVE IN…WHEN THEY WERE THERE
FOR THEM TO SEE, YOU SEE
A TREND BECAME APPARENT TO NOT BE A PARENT
RATHER THEN FARTHER CHILD SOME BROTHERS
WOULD RATHER WORSHIP PRODUCT.
AND THOSE TEACHINGS TEACH
THE CYCLE, THAT’S RECYCLED THAT STAYS RECITALED IN LITTLE BOY’S HEADS.
THE LESSONS OF DIGNITY AND INTEGRITY ARE REPLACED
WITH GLORIFYING MOVIES AND IMAGINARY VIDEOS OF HOW TO BE MR. BIG.
WALK WITH A BIG STICK TALK WITH A BIGGER STICK.
HAVING YOU VALUE AND REASON TAKEN FROM YOU BY YOU!
AND YAH THE USUAL RESPONSE IS THAT’S THE WHIT MANS FAULT 400 YRS AGO
WERE THE LESSONS I WAS TAUGHT, WELL THE LESSONS I SOUGHT TAUGHT ME OF
FATHERS WHO FOUGHT AND DIED FOR THERE SON’S AND DAUGHTERS HAVING THERE
BODIES CASTED OVER INTO LARGER BODIES OF WATER IN HOPES… OF BREAKING
THEIR SONS VALUE AND TRADITION BUT INSTEAD IT STRENGTHENED!
IT SPAWNED A CLOSER AWARENESS OF WHAT BEING A MAN AND A FARTHER IS.
SO I LOOK AROUND & HOLD MY HEAD DOWN IN DISGRACE WONDERING WHAT
HAPPENED TO OUR RACE IN THIS PLACE.
(WE HAVE LOST VALUE-N-TRADITION)
SEE I HAVE A PROBLEM WHEN YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO TELL HOW YOU HIT THE WALLS
COULDN'T STAND UP TALL ENOUGH TO TELL THE TELL OF HOW YOU STAID THROUGH
YOU CAN TELL ME THE LATEST LAKERS SCORES AND STATS BUT CAN YOU TELL ME
WERE YOU’RE CHILDS GRADES ARE AT,
I THINK NOT,
SO THIS TREND HAS TO STOP! FOR YOU BROTHERS THAT LIKE TO TAP THE BOTTLE
AND TWIST THE CAP HERE’S A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE OF A SAD REALTY AND TRUTH
OF WHERE WERE AT!
Poe's Knight Revisited
Not too bright,
that valiant knight,
in sunshine and in smog,
too hoarse for song
in hopes of Eldorado.
He'd been made a fool
that knight so cool,
but oe'r his head a star
shined though he found
no sight nor sound
of promised Eldorado.
Lost at length,
he begged for strength
from a fallen star,
"Star," begged he,
"Where might it be,
this dream of Eldorado?"
"O'er the hills,
of the neon lights,
Down the Alley of the Stars.
Ride quickly, ride,"
the star jut sighed,
"Tip the girls well at Eldorado."
There is more at:
OPEN MIC ENCORE I
OPEN MIC ENCORE II
OPEN MIC ENCORE III
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Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2004.
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