Poetry: Be Attitudes (Beatitudes) | R2BsL


Whenever the sun was high up staring at the ground,
I was in between its warmth and it’s coldness
it took time to chew the air
but it’s attitude didn’t hurt me.

When death visited the darkness that lurked in its name,
I was in between the hyphen sitting between two dates
the day the day was born
and the night the night died.
It’s attitude was as cold as the light reflecting before dead eyes.

When the unknown God sat his wisdom on my feet
he asked me to pick one for a kingdom,
but he would use dust to make it
lest leathery locks will lurk as my plot.
So I wrote stories of a man on a mountain
his ways were stiff as a weathering rock
his words were swords piercing the wind,
he knew where death lived
but didn’t know the house.
So he spoke in ‘chanting poetry’
He tick-tock time
when he slipped sleep a peep.
He gave ten fingers
with each a commitment.
He cajoled doubts and squeezed into faith.
He would die he said
but on his grave I must write
This is my farthest journey ever
but I would bring these back –
The beatitudes of attitudes.



Today I dress in religion
In the voice of Christianity
On the mountain my poem will speak
Of nine brothers

1st,who married the earth.
2nd,whose poverty the kingdom only can afford.
3rd, that only sees comfort during his lost
4th,who on righteousness alone he feeds.
5th, that will never stay away from mercy
6th,is him whose pure heart sees just God
7th,admires peace and detest trouble
8th,got himself into trouble for righteousness’ love
9th,always smiles at the beauty of persecution.

Today in religious dress
My poem spoke
of nine brothers on a mountain.


I read the good book with caution
Dotted lines connecting its spines
Each word that birth another
All are ciphers to who want to decipher

I read the good book with caution
It changed my life’s shock absorbers
Sparked a paradigm shift to shift
My strikes and thrust cut more than a knife

I read the good book with caution
It spoke of Job and storms that came
Peter and Paul martyrs all maimed
When sorrow hits mourn, comefort will come

I read the good book with caution
It never contradict the, ‘rule your world’ syndrome
Just be meek and have
Only the spiritly poor owns the kingdom

I read the good book with caution
It emphasized the need for sons
Blades to throats, bullets and cuts to ears
Crest  your chest with badges of peace

Off the good book take this with caution
The world revolves viruses to kill conscious
Blend positivism with attitudes
Never lose your guts blessed are you.



Blessed are scripts
for their letters shall be read, fed to eyes and smooched by fingers
Yearning to knowledge caress.

Blessed are readers,
A thousand minds shall see through your eyes
At the throne of ancient kings their wisdom shall you steal

Blessed are teachers
For every line taught
Is a planted seed growing to this earth protect

Blessed are writers
For they shall write into existence
As if it were,that which threatens imagination

Blessed are singers,
The teeth with which they bite their notes
Shall they tear the flesh depression wears

Blessed are Libraries,
The shoulders of their shelves
Shall themselves fall not before ignorance

Blessed are diaries,
For they shall be best friends
Who can forever take your mess.

Blessed are Poets
For they shall write nights into daylights
And make noon hide the evening shame.



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