Saturday, February 28, 2015
Poetic Verses: An Unjustified Slaughter (Tribute To Trayvon Marti...
Poetic Verses: An Unjustified Slaughter (Tribute To Trayvon Marti...: How many times have we been confronted with a fear that engulfs us from a knock on our door. How many times have justice been misdirect...
Thursday, February 26, 2015
WHILE WALKING
The disparity among the city dwellers
were obvious as I walked along the
corridors of bright and dimmed lights.
The different levels and styles of music
were distinct. The conversations ran it's course
from university masters to street doctorates.
The level of dress was worn by a mixture of
high class hookers, college kids, the hip and the heavy,
those in the know, eager to show brand names, self
style and body culture.
Their rides were message senders, sleek and daring,
expensive and style setting Their daring colors were
trendy,stylish and meant to catch the eye.
There were no evidence of racial division along these
corridors. All different ethnic groups were holding
hands, talking, laughing and dancing to the beat
of soul music.
Drinking the same drinks, sometimes drinking out of
the same glass, eating the same foods, doing the same
drugs. All wanting to belong to this community of souls.
This is a different generation, trying to forget the
history that haunts them. They are willing to bend
one's will to the desires of the street vendors that pushes
corruption rapped up in fool's gold.
In a differrent part of the city, the lights were few.
sad music played, mostly blues. There were very few
cars on the streets. The homeless were competing
against the rodents for food.
Dwellings that were once filled with laughter, are now
filled with the weeping of children and unwed mothers.
Apartment are scarcely furnished, very little food
or clothing.
The pimps and drug pushers on every corner draining
the life that is left, taking the innocence from the
mother's daughters and sons, age don't seem to matter.
Replacing hope with dope.
In a different part of the city, the lights were bright on
every corner and at the end of every driveway, and doorway
of it's camouflage private clubs and homes.
There are majestic homes seeking separation from the
slum lords, deseased communities. It is the same people
behinds these doors that are responsible for the quality
of life, that they seek to avoid
They play their music from sound proof rooms,
smoke their long pipes from ventilated closets, drink
their imported wines, beer and liquors, taste their pure
cocaine. Exchanges sexual favors for political leverage.
In this setting, they make political decisions that are
destructive to the community and it's people in which
they are not visibly a part of.
This community of bright lights, perfectly paved street were
totally silent from the streets. There were no visible pimps or
drug pushers, there were no signs of hunger, no loud music
there were no children crying.
But you can still sense the pain.
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009
were obvious as I walked along the
corridors of bright and dimmed lights.
The different levels and styles of music
were distinct. The conversations ran it's course
from university masters to street doctorates.
The level of dress was worn by a mixture of
high class hookers, college kids, the hip and the heavy,
those in the know, eager to show brand names, self
style and body culture.
Their rides were message senders, sleek and daring,
expensive and style setting Their daring colors were
trendy,stylish and meant to catch the eye.
There were no evidence of racial division along these
corridors. All different ethnic groups were holding
hands, talking, laughing and dancing to the beat
of soul music.
Drinking the same drinks, sometimes drinking out of
the same glass, eating the same foods, doing the same
drugs. All wanting to belong to this community of souls.
This is a different generation, trying to forget the
history that haunts them. They are willing to bend
one's will to the desires of the street vendors that pushes
corruption rapped up in fool's gold.
In a differrent part of the city, the lights were few.
sad music played, mostly blues. There were very few
cars on the streets. The homeless were competing
against the rodents for food.
Dwellings that were once filled with laughter, are now
filled with the weeping of children and unwed mothers.
Apartment are scarcely furnished, very little food
or clothing.
The pimps and drug pushers on every corner draining
the life that is left, taking the innocence from the
mother's daughters and sons, age don't seem to matter.
Replacing hope with dope.
In a different part of the city, the lights were bright on
every corner and at the end of every driveway, and doorway
of it's camouflage private clubs and homes.
There are majestic homes seeking separation from the
slum lords, deseased communities. It is the same people
behinds these doors that are responsible for the quality
of life, that they seek to avoid
They play their music from sound proof rooms,
smoke their long pipes from ventilated closets, drink
their imported wines, beer and liquors, taste their pure
cocaine. Exchanges sexual favors for political leverage.
In this setting, they make political decisions that are
destructive to the community and it's people in which
they are not visibly a part of.
This community of bright lights, perfectly paved street were
totally silent from the streets. There were no visible pimps or
drug pushers, there were no signs of hunger, no loud music
there were no children crying.
But you can still sense the pain.
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2015
"I HEARD A VOICE FROM NOTHING SPEAK"
I heard a voice from nothing speak,
summoning me hither.
Oh! The boldness of
this creature to cheer.
Who has allowed this creature to speak?
For it hastens the tears
in mine eyes.
Over the pangs of death, I agonize.
You shall not be my doom;
For I shall not despair
my soul espies you,
from the darkness of my room,
from the shadows cast by my tears.
Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death,
I shall not fear.
For I shall join my spirit with the light.
The brightness of truth prevails.
Of my life you shall be deprived tonight.
I wrestled with the demons of hell,
but they have no power over me.
For I dwelleth in the spirit of the light,
power I will not give unto thee.
For darkness is your throne,
but my throne is bright.
In the waking hours the chase begins anew,
and then who stalks who?
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyritghted 2009
summoning me hither.
Oh! The boldness of
this creature to cheer.
Who has allowed this creature to speak?
For it hastens the tears
in mine eyes.
Over the pangs of death, I agonize.
You shall not be my doom;
For I shall not despair
my soul espies you,
from the darkness of my room,
from the shadows cast by my tears.
Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death,
I shall not fear.
For I shall join my spirit with the light.
The brightness of truth prevails.
Of my life you shall be deprived tonight.
I wrestled with the demons of hell,
but they have no power over me.
For I dwelleth in the spirit of the light,
power I will not give unto thee.
For darkness is your throne,
but my throne is bright.
In the waking hours the chase begins anew,
and then who stalks who?
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyritghted 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
IMPERFECTIONS
How soon we forget the good they have done,
as they struggled with the demons of adversity.
What gives us the right to demand perfection.
For the greatness of humanity comes not
in it's self imposed strength, but the acknowledgement
of it's weaknesses that the divine strength maybe forge,
and the will of our creator maybe manifested.
As we struggle to stand alone we will fail.
Those who walked by our side when we stood tall,
will redicule and disown us.
How soon we forget how fragile we are, how
imperfect we are.
By what authority do we render ourselves perfect.
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel Harvey Gooding
Copyrighted 2009
Monday, December 29, 2014
PICKING UP THE PIECES
As I walked in the cool of the evening,
picking up the pieces of a shackled mind,
a fractured heart, broken dreams, a vision
of turmoil, a future without any expectations,
a body wrecked with pain, a world without
a friend.
On this journey without a guide. A door
way to my answers open. The voice said walk
no more, your walk is finished, you are whole
again. The most important phase of your
life is now complete.
Out of your defeat, came triumph.
The realization that only the Creator can
complete the circle. I was always with you
on this journey.
Always remember when you feel consumed
and betrayed, on a road without an end, try
walking in the cool of the evening picking up
your pieces.
Allow the Creator to assemble them.
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009
picking up the pieces of a shackled mind,
a fractured heart, broken dreams, a vision
of turmoil, a future without any expectations,
a body wrecked with pain, a world without
a friend.
On this journey without a guide. A door
way to my answers open. The voice said walk
no more, your walk is finished, you are whole
again. The most important phase of your
life is now complete.
Out of your defeat, came triumph.
The realization that only the Creator can
complete the circle. I was always with you
on this journey.
Always remember when you feel consumed
and betrayed, on a road without an end, try
walking in the cool of the evening picking up
your pieces.
Allow the Creator to assemble them.
Poetic Reflections By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009
Saturday, August 9, 2014
A FRIEND
How often we forget,
from whence we came,
with all our earthly trappings.
When our house was filled
with worldly goods and
bundles of Christmas wrappings.
The dark days came and
the thunder roared, and
the goods we had no more.
Of those who came and
shared our home,
no longer knocks at our door.
When all was well and
the future seemed bright, and
of plenty there was end.
The one I seldom saw at my table,
or making constant demands,,
I discovered was my friend.
Poetic Verses By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2003
from whence we came,
with all our earthly trappings.
When our house was filled
with worldly goods and
bundles of Christmas wrappings.
The dark days came and
the thunder roared, and
the goods we had no more.
Of those who came and
shared our home,
no longer knocks at our door.
When all was well and
the future seemed bright, and
of plenty there was end.
The one I seldom saw at my table,
or making constant demands,,
I discovered was my friend.
Poetic Verses By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2003
MY BROTHERS
Unchained ankles,
unchallenged minds,
opportunity beckons
The fields of degradation,
replaced by future anticipation.
For the void is no longer
shapeless or deep,
that which once restricted,
no longer binds.
The shape of our futures
are woven by the golden threads
of wisdom that have always been
a part of our being. Created by
that which created all things,
Atom for Atom, for we are truly
a part of the universe.
All that supports us and sustains
us, are being provided by he who is
omnipotent and omnipresent. Hold
our heads high, for we are from
a great source, a great people, a great
pass and we have a great future.
And always remember, we are
BROTHERS!
Poetic Verses By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2003
unchallenged minds,
opportunity beckons
The fields of degradation,
replaced by future anticipation.
For the void is no longer
shapeless or deep,
that which once restricted,
no longer binds.
The shape of our futures
are woven by the golden threads
of wisdom that have always been
a part of our being. Created by
that which created all things,
Atom for Atom, for we are truly
a part of the universe.
All that supports us and sustains
us, are being provided by he who is
omnipotent and omnipresent. Hold
our heads high, for we are from
a great source, a great people, a great
pass and we have a great future.
And always remember, we are
BROTHERS!
Poetic Verses By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2003
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