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Modern Verses

Updated on March 28, 2016

A Celebration of the Day

The sun rises peach on a clear morn

I have been gifted to witness

Quietly I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving

It is good to be alive.

My daughter wakes with a mighty yawn

Immediately she bellows for food

Her bottle is ready, her Mom stirs not

It is Sunday, I am caregiver today.

The music on the radio is praise and worship

During the week it would be Hip-Hop

I ask my teen son to go to the shop, beg him not to stop

Singing he sets off with a trot.

The cocks are crowing on every farm

To me they say “Ra’s Star for I”

It is fitting to me this call of theirs

Since Ra’s star dominates the sky.

The beauty of existence is simple and clear

Just be who you want to be

The love I have for all creation

Brings out the best in me

As I cook bacon and eggs and make chocolate tea

My lady emerges with a lazy smile

She sits at the table and declares her love for me

I believe, she has been saying such for a while

The sun has now become rather hot

My son returns huffing warm with sweat

“Did you run?” I ask, he smiles and nods

“Good boy, you’ll be a man yet.”

Thank you my father for giving me life

And the wisdom to find joy in the simple things

My children, my duties, my work, my wife

And the contentment that they bring.

It is Sunday, the day that is special to me

Because I get to be all that I should if there was no job

I love this day, this wondrous life

My achievements! All of the above.


The Sun of the Morning

(For Sero)

Beautiful you are my love, your eyes shine and glisten like the brightest stars

In the midnight sky. The cocoa butter you use is rougher than your smooth satiny skin

When you smile joy erupts within. From crown to toes you embody perfection,

You are grace incarnate in words and action. Bluebells are impressive, crotons are colorful and

Roses can stop wars, but you outstrip them all, with how beautiful you are.

Graceful you are my love, like the large cat prowling, or the gazelle in flight

I feel rejuvenated once you enter my sight, I am filled with joy! My hardships become light.

Royal are your poses, like a creative dance. Your gestures are gentle, and your crime is complete civility.

Your demeanor is difficult to describe, beyond my base ability

Do continue to give our love a chance, your stock my seconds with serenity.

Powerful you are my love, similar to a force of nature. You are like a hurricane, an earthquake

Very much like a tornado, as a tsunami you overwhelm all with your indomitable passion.

From century to millennia you flow undisturbed, in your own unique peculiar fashion.

I find it impossible to be angry around you, as this runs contrary to your will

If you were to die I would continue to be happy, the memories of your love would buoy me still.

Intelligent you are my love, your wisdom is as endless as the universe itself

Your knowledge is like the ocean depths and as imposing as Mons Olympus

The reason that I’m quiet mostly around you, is that I am in awe of your all-encompassing intellect

I have yet to see you incorrect, or hear you apologize for a real, honest mistake

If you teach me love, I will help you to create.

Yes woman, I do believe that you are divine, I see our love lasting till the end of time

So today is the day I put yesterday behind me, and create a future worthy of you

Filled with affection and appreciation, I will ensure that you love the view

Of our tomorrow, oh wise, witty, beautiful woman! I sincerely and totally adore you.

Contributed by: George A. Clarke aka Tributiol Skabem Elmarey aka Aliam I aka Corey S.

Holy Thursday 2016

Being kinda irreverent, I am on my way to my favorite watering hole to get "nice". Thanks to Shantel Palmer who snapped this scene.
Being kinda irreverent, I am on my way to my favorite watering hole to get "nice". Thanks to Shantel Palmer who snapped this scene.

Holy Thursday

As we look forward to bun cheese and Easter eggs

And we will kiss our crucifixes and tell Mother Mary that we have sinned

As we go to Mass and listen to the Pope pontificate on our guilt

For causing Christ to have to come and sacrifice himself

Do we know anything about the truth of it?

What is the truth? I don’t know. No one does. I know a truth or two,

But I know of none who can claim knowledge of the whole wicked wanton story.

I know that Christ isn’t the first savior nor is he the first Sun. Scriptures like this have

Been around since time begun. God has been called many names,

And seen in many different ways, it is a song those in power continue to play.

Horus was killed and sent to the land of the Dead. But death couldn’t

Hold him down, he was resurrected. Krishna had twelve disciples and healed

The sick, he taught and was reviled, mocked because he was a virgin’s son

And had and earthly father who was a carpenter. Mithras raised the dead

With the same story as Christ to us, Horus raised AZAR check it! lAZARus.

These stories are not funny, they show an underlying theme

The clergy’s contract is to control the plebian, on this dream they forever scheme.

Do you really believe what they teach is actually real?

Perhaps you are not as intelligent as you have been told to feel.

Perhaps you have inculcated in yourself far too much zeal…

I wrote this ditty to make a point, instead of going to Mass,

Consider smoking a joint. Instead of all that self-flagellation

Get a dominatrix to whip your gullible ass. Prove to the Creator that

Your brain is working, maybe you could drink something perhaps even curse,

And laugh at the pundits preaching and trying to pull the latch of your purse.


My friend Lorna

I like the girls of my culture because the are so "down to earth". Nothing gets to me more than a high-strung woman. The idea offends!
I like the girls of my culture because the are so "down to earth". Nothing gets to me more than a high-strung woman. The idea offends!

The Closing Argument

(for the diggers of gold and other worthless metals)

Mayhap you protest too much lady! Did I say that you loved another? Surely not you,

I simply asked where do you go on so many, many nights. The children cry inconsolably for

Their Mother. Dinner is dearth of laughter; we wear wet pillows for a bedtime story,

Even if they allow me to read, their sadness makes my heart and eyes bleed.

I too feel your absence like an abscess in my mouth. Acutely and insistently painful

I still don’t know where we went wrong… or perhaps I do. I should have been born into money,

Or sought a woman with wealth lower on her list. Your harsh words wound when

You get frustrated with my penury, but for fancy frivolities I have no money.

You used to hug and kiss me passionately for remembering to bring flowers home.

Our dinner, although it was not steak was staked out in thoughtfulness,

You used to make love to the sound of the rain drumming on our roof…

But don’t get me wrong, it is not the lack of sex. It’s the lots of vex.

You claim that I’ve changed, it is true. I have come to see the manic massive material lust in you.

And really, I am not attracted. It’s not that I’ve been better and then became worse, when I met

You, you were a nurse. Now, I have to work hard for the kids and you. Plus, the kids are not that

Small, if you wish you can work too, but that’s not for you, you want to be kept up and slept ‘nough.

Well keep on going to the greener grass, obviously you are a cow, you’ve made your choice

Don’t you dare stop now! You wish to laze and graze. Why am I amazed? I should have seen it in you

After a little while, Sylvene will not even recall your face, I would spare them the disgrace

Of having a Mother without faith, and to be connected to one who prefers Mammon to affection.

You would have given them wrong values, it is a favour that you are doing for us…

I will send them as far as they want to go; I’m the one working, so I know what is possible

When I don’t have to pay bills to Vanity Fair, go on to heaven! I have a family to care.

The universities will have your share of my paycheck; I bet you Dave gets a doctorate.

And mind you, don’t you return when the crap blows up in your face, when the shit hits the fan,

I guarantee someone will be in your place. If you think I’m gonna die, then guess again

With you I’ve seen much pain, with you gone it will not remain, my Mom made me a man

You know, I think I knew it all along. Trust me I’m good…I’ll live! Believe me girl! I am strong.

Contributed by: Nicholas Correno Heller aka Noreen Prudence Datsun aka Carlee Apwan Makk aka Raffael Remario Rattee aka Seano –Paula Hitchmann-Wright aka Camelita Annalee Jobson aka Ogunna Charisma Pyle aka Al Lan Holder aka Carlos Berinto Estrada aka Corey S. Jobson.

Asses that you are (for Kaye Starh)

Because we did not know, we were fooled, tricked, bamboozled.

You said that the land that you would show us was rich,

You said gold was plentiful and food was unlimited.

Gold and food for you, as it turned out. We were forced into slavery

Told that we were inferior, we were shown and introduced to a God

That hated us, and commanded us to love oppression and fawn and pander to our

Oppressors. It happened because we did not know.

You seemed so helpless, so innocent, showing us your trinkets and pots and pans.

The clothes you wore seemed so ridiculous. We thought that your habits were

Disease inviting and uncivilized. Our ways dictated that we show you the right —

Introduce you to the light. Instead, you whipped our sons into brutishness

Made our daughters into whores, forced us to work unintelligently and

Inefficiently, embedded death into our reality. Realistically, you are the disease!

It is your disaffection for the true laws of life that has made this place into misery made real.

Don’t you see that with all your vaunted achievements and wealth, you are unhappy?

You hustle and bustle daily in search of what is right in front of you.

But because you are bright and we are dull, we can’t tell you anything.

Damn asses! You already know. But what you know is NOTHING, and it is that which

Eventually eats you alive. You make probes to go to Pluto, Voyager has left

The system. Yet your system can’t solve the hunger of the children, and the mathematics

That predicts the weather can’t predict that single moms with no income will whore.

At first Marijuana was a dangerous drug. We knew it was because it made us think.

Now it’s medical because your nuclear power plants produce cancer like how filth

Produces flies. We watch and wonder at the Tell-Lie-to-the-Vision speaking of the virtues

Of what used to be reason for an aggressive arrest. Oh! And the police officer who used

To be plantation overseer… he is to protect and serve the public by giving us the beatings

We so dearly deserve. You destroy us daily to encourage the undertaker’s industry

And lock us up for harming no one so that multi-nationally owned prisons can profit.

We are just numbers on a page to you; we neither have faces nor feelings.

Statistics we are for civil servants to crunch. You institutionalize poverty so that

Hellfare has something to brag about. Giving our children poisonous cheese and apple juice

And then complain about crime. YOU MADE US CRIMINALS! Before you came

To our continent, no one had to enforce civility, you told our children that their skin

Was inferior, when we don’t need milk to make Vitamin D. Our muscles, brains, bones and dicks

Are bigger, so smaller is superior — the asses that you are.


Business Wedding (the day before the INS interview)

For the immigrant refugee to the U.S.A.

Given that we are together, can we be civil? Even if it is pretense.

Love may come, perhaps it won’t. This is a marriage of convenience,

But that does not mean it has to be hellish as if it is a life sentence.

I know that for us there is no passion, damn we hardly know each other.

We have been thrown into a relationship to sink or swim alone or together,

If we can’t or won’t be willing to be lovers, could we sleep under the same cover,

Like sister and brother, it can be thus I promise; I will not be a bother.

When I came to this country, it was for work and a better life.

Conditions constrained me completely; I was forced to seek a wife.

You were my rescue, my life-jacket, woman you literally saved my life,

Were it not for you I would be sent back to that hole of darkness, poverty and strife

It is my intention to honor, love and protect you with my word, gun or knife.

In the country that I am from, there is the grave of my Mom,

She died in that accursed land, because of an exploding bomb.

I cannot forgive that politician, who caused the contradiction

Of loving my native nation, over the love of decency and civilization.

Compared to that my reluctant wife, this foreign place is Paradise,

I feel as if I have arrived in Utopia, with every trip to the college cafeteria.

So perhaps you will understand when I say, “You’ve made me an honest man.”

Contributed by: Oliver Mark Jobson (Oliver) aka Tributiol Skabem Elmarey (Tribby) aka Corey S. Jobson (jAbo)

Serena (a beauty)

Serena and beauty go hand in hand. If you can see the picture then I need not comment any further.
Serena and beauty go hand in hand. If you can see the picture then I need not comment any further.

Beauty (for Serena)

A yah so nice…Sonia!
















Contributed by: Coralynne Ayellin MakShubi aka Corey S. Jobson

Bye bye!

I teach a student enrichment class in the evenings. All ages are welcome to the class. Education is (is my opinion) the only legal way to escape poverty.
I teach a student enrichment class in the evenings. All ages are welcome to the class. Education is (is my opinion) the only legal way to escape poverty.

Brave New World

(for Ramon Sean-Oliver Jobson – R.I.P.)

Love is fleeting and shallow these days,

It’s lost like a glass of blue Cool-Aid thrown in the sea.

It comes and goes like the El train at peak hour,

Love is lost like talcum powder in a bag of flour.

Honor is cheap and insignificant these days,

A man’s word means less than bird shit.

There is no value for virtuous ways,

Sometimes I feel so old-fashioned that I’m tempted to quit.

Integrity means nothing to no one these days,

Politicians have made this virtue cliché.

What is the point in being true and upright,

If you can’t buy the favorite dancer at Shades tonight?

Forget about courtesy my friend this word is obsolete,

It is might that’s right and money that is concrete.

What is the point of good behavior and manners?

If I can buy anything whether in silk or tatters.

Humility is not just out, if fact it is wrong!

Like rapping some Pac while the choir sings its song.

Try as you might, not even the baby buys humble,

Every guy is on the tip of making the deepest rumble.

So let us try and discuss if anyone is nowadays kind,

Listen to the Lady, “Boy you must be out of your mind!”

If you try to influence your Mom to sympathy and benevolence,

You are sure to end up in traction because of her violence.

So let’s add the sum, remember to forget about virtue,

Big brother is watching and he’s sure to hurt you.

Put on the whole and entire armor of the Beast —

You won’t be at Peace but at least at nights you will feast.

Contributed by: Raffael Remario Ratee (RE) aka Radam Imina El Shaka (Adam) aka Corey S. Jobson (jAbo)


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