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The poetry of Robert L. Jones, Jr. Part 6

Updated on March 30, 2017


Bomani-edited version


robert l. jones, jr.


enough is surely enough of those wickedly

storming tempests and wildly contentious gusts

of blustery chaos, as they, (for the longest time),

have been angrily blowing and violently bum-rushing

at my peacefully discreet island of quietly sacred

refuge, and with the crazily hostile threat of some

madly vicious disdain they hurry on through so

tumultuously with a mightily thrashing agenda to

wholly uproot and to demolish [into utter oblivion] my

uprightly postured dimension of highly defining

selfness, as i still be strongly managing to

remain proudly steadfast (like the monumental

posterior of egyptian pyramids) in that humanely

sustaining ease of uniquely being the optimistic

embodiment of peace, be still; so there would

positively be no evident question wasting up

precious space within my wary psychology of

deeply mindful integrity, as i, [with that tenaciously

esoteric pondering of some calamity-resolving

insight], persist on bombastically with the

discernibly concerted assertion that i have

simply gotten just about enough of them wretchedly

scattered flurries of falsely impending disaster-and-

ruin, which be in the stupidly presuming attitude

of vainly predicating their raunchy raucous of

trash-talking pessimism, just so that they could

consciously bulldoze my ever-battling cipher of

keen sensibility with those mentally tender

entrapments of enrapturing intimidation and

child-likened fear, but i abundantly possess

that indigenous inheritance of some naturally

conquering esteem, which has been so blessedly

dispensed into my crimson riverbanks of

hotly circulating life from the regally endemic

veins-and-arteries of anciently powerful

kings and queens of yester millennial fame and rulership,

and within the modernistic era of some urban-

luxuriant soulfulness, i am justly expressing my

radically professing extensions of fitfully uprising

combat, wherewith the ceaseless fighter-in-me

be boldly hip to that inconsolable impulse to just

keep on scuffling and a’tussling throughout the

negritude hours and nigrescent minutes of sorely

encompassing nightfall, and these quickly swinging

fists of fireball(ing) defense will be swiftly

landing them heavy-hitting blows of jawbone-

busting destruction upon the bruised-up face and

blackened eyes of minority-oppressing pain

and suffering, and this ali-inspired overcomer of congo-

alarming awe-and-fierceness will be getting so

courageously together with that fanatically enduring

virtue of knocking out and punching into absolute

defeat that stoned evil contender of outrageously

atrocious harm and brutish maltreatment, and in the

championing spirit of boom-ba-yay i shall hear

the supremely elating cheer of hip-hip-hooray

as a dynastic right hand lead would

suddenly kill the perversely perseverant

evilness of that wildly antagonistic loser

(from the abyss), as he will immediately fall

hard and would humbly succumb to the

unfavorable descent of laying cold and lifeless upon

an off-white canvas floor of abhorrent

desolation, and with the greatly manifested

stance of a heroic soldier after he returns on home

with the opulent spoils of ever-prevailing conquest,

i will certainly be having more than enough of

them heart-aching situations and those problematic

antics of psyche-crucifying agony, to the

point where i may encourage myself to lift up a

victoriously upraised arm to the observant

heavens as a beneficial witness to the prestigious

testament of how this here righteously defiant

boxer done fought long and extremely struggled for

that divinely prizing recompense of some richly

rewarding honor, respect and brightly magnifying

regard as a truly phenomenal male with all of

the perpetual potential in dominating-and-ascending

above all of the many effectual woes and agonizing

sorrows of this utterly flawed and short fallen

environment, and now is that amazingly celebrating

occasion to step right on up and to boldly take

back my heavy weight belt of relentless triumph

like an undisputed vanquisher standing so vividly

superbad and charismatic before the worldly

masses of both endearing supporters and cynical

critics, and finally, my protagonistic image of

vindicated grittiness will fearlessly leave

the rope-a-dope(ing) confines of a bloodied

boxing ring, and with exceeding gladness i will

continue inside of that shonuff irrefutable

groove of being a newly successful master

of my happily favored future, until the

eternally cordial portals of a celestial exodus

call me on home…


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