Poetry

October 10, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Ryan Holloway photo

 

By

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

 

 

 

The Civilized Savage

 

 

Beauty’s what Nature fully bestows,

And with her original hand did paint,

Not artists’ skills, dyes mixed on brows,

What Nature herself gently made unfaint;

Stirred by other art’s bastard signs,

Whose fairs bear youthful with’ring flow’rs,

Arts in truths like moon in sun dimly shine,

Soon fall from the tops of the happy hours,

Swollen with beauty pride of crying shames,

Now their gilding hours soon must go,

For forging sable into Causcacian rhymes,

Beauties fade as arm-paints do grow,

Artificial beauties decay natural beauty free,

Let be the beauty Nature did lend thee.

 

 

 

 

Beginning of the End

 

 

Between classic mountain books o’ bloody moon,

(Immersed in unguilty blood, on sea pyramid),

Milky moons red like hell bleed blood,

Sweet poisons on dyed seductive eyes humid,

Trading lost souls vomited on white blackboard,

Celebs art slaves, thou watch’st too free so praise,

Dark powers erupt illusional magical miracles,

Nights hide ugliness bright days oft show,

Chicks sleep, hawks come with the Oracles,

Stones from clandestine corners sling, so throw,

Pelican hearts in moments they devour,

Times are stale, hell’s empty, doomed this hour.

 

 

 

 

Angel Sword

 

 

A barefoot Angel holds a man’s skull:

His face graver than that of a judge,

His cloth dangles as if a transfigur’ng cult,

Actively alive is his sword, double-edged;

Rais’d above his head, soon cutting someone,

His wings planted behind him, both rais’d:

The conceited heart of the man swells alone,

Cloth’d in silk; weeds smell roses in praise,

Forests of food and wines flood before him,

Golden wears jingle, makeups gild beauty,

All these blind him, seest he not Him,

All mortal cravings he longs to satisfy,

Worms are happy, man will soon decay,

Stars, moons, suns, roses perish that day.

 

 

 

 

Wines of a Fool

 

 

Always toss your zoomed breasts in my eyes,

Toss ’em most when I want to see ’em least,

And win my purse to receive thy full praise,

Hang ’em like ripe pawpaw at thy own safe risk,

Hoot your horn if you see me in a street,

Wines of a fool oft finish with repeated taste,

Pull cosmetic smiles to haste my idle feet,

Cut outs ins upon pants; my legs they haste,

Floral sweet scent of painted skin too cheap,

Temptress, my temptress, spoil thy sitting styles,

I sing you song of a whore-in-chief,

Hold smoking cigars, dress naked, then whistle,

Always toss thy wooden ass to lure the sheep,

A thief steals, ruins and kills in dark too deep.

 

 

 

 

The Potter and the Pot

 

 

A pot is never mightier than the potter,

Nor are big ears bigger than small heads:

He that molds the pot remains its master,

The streaked breast of the pot nicely shap’d,

Wild patterns beautify the pot suppos’d,

A well burnt pot never dreads hot fire,

Whose cold waters the master purpos’d:

Sweet wines in divine wineskin so rare;

A pot half burnt doesn’t fully gleam,

Till the master pours in his living water,

So will the masterpiece ceramics brim,

A pot must be mendable by the potter,

Or else like dough form another form,

So do we men mere clays for worms!

 

 

 

The Haunted House

 

 

Blessed are those in sleep of tranquil peace,

Than the living laden to death, moaning,

Every passing hour under Cursed Fortune’s fees,

Summ’ng rhymes at every comely line’s ending,

That comfort the troubled barren earth,

O this haunted house of bloody hands,

Jointed skeletons stalk his heavy breath,

Weary cries bow for change in the bleeding lands,

Guilty innocence lets blood in his walking eyes,

Phantoms bang his dislengthening dark days,

Flaming sword in his bleeding tongue stabs skies,

Voices in the dark plead vengeance in praise,

Seventy legions stalk, shadows stalk the bearer live,

Haunted house lays for vengeance afterlife.

 

 

 

 

The Rusted Coin

 

 

Bubbles are the truths beneath water depths,

Under eagle-shadows lie black snakes,

Out there as bubbles appear on water heights,

Cowering cracking sudden popping beaks,

That swallow the frogs that make ’em swell,

Swashbuckling their swastikas go diseased,

Frogs slay snakes in wrestles where they dwell,

Green palms hidd’n in ashes come out black,

Golden silvered coin; one side more loved,

Golden silvery coin rusts sideway dark,

Blacken in the pot of African herb,

The only good snakes are the dead ones,

Troubled waters blow out bubbles at once.

 

 

 

 

Watch The World Go By

 

 

Bright nights go all the dark days,

In love torn, in hate born in pleasure,

Watch the world go by in blame praise,

In haste marriage, in repenting leisure,

Watch the anger burn in the eagle eyes,

In lewd pants, in false tongues,

Only the future repeat the past lies,

In betraying hours, in the bitter songs,

A spear that kills animals sleeps outside,

In hot coldness, in the beating rain,

Watch the world go by where ye hide,

In dim distance, in pursuing pain,

Where there’s love, there’s life,

So my love of thee’ll ever be alive.

 

 

 

 

 

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st is a Ugandan Poet/English and Literature teacher, born in Kitgum, an Acholi by tribe, aged 26.

He is from the land ruled by Idi Amin Dada (1971-9), then by Museveni (1986-present), invaded by LRA/Lord Resistance Army under Joseph Kony(1986-2006).

Thus, he comes from a dirt poor family background, a nation where life is at stake.

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