Encounters: Selected Poems

By Armin Boko

To read on or to let go? Are you relaxed about the way things are, or are you up in arms, disenchanted with instant gratification of mass media? Have you tried reading a contrarians book lately? Are you in search of a bolshies poem? Do you dare to question, such as what, if anything, is correct about political correctness; what is level about level economical playing fields; what is rational about economical rationalism; how come 0.1 percent owns half of just about everything? Il caro compagnero, do you feel we are being had?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524678470

Book preview

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© 2017 Armin Boko. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  03/02/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7848-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7847-0 (e)

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Contents

Introduction

Encounters 1

Snippets of Inspiration

Not in the Mood to be unkind

Say it isn’t true

Scotland The Brave 2016

The Blue Grenadier

Start Anew

The Brine

To Memory of Helen

Uluru Magic

The Wave 2

Ballad of sober minded Neddy

- - - not a caring God, are You!

Bacillus Descriminatis

Files

Lady Gaga

(In)Humanity in Gaza

Big Pharma

Agnes Dei

A Not So Happy Limerick

Allons Enfants de la Patrie

The Machines 2

Attila the Hun

Recluse At Home

The Grandpa

Back To Front

Widow’s Last Son

Encounters 2

Lost Friend

Warm Tears and Red Gums Dying

For Millie

Somber Thoughts

Watery Underwold

Cliches People Come Up With

Keep on Textin’

Dreams I Have

Headache on Offer

Miror Image of Self

Skull and Crossbones

From Hawaiiki to Aotearoa

Consume No More

The Oboe

Without Me /circa 1992/

DE-MO-CRA-CY (Aust.)

Nostalgia

A Monologue

Anno Domini MMXVI

Collar White

How To Measure The Pain?

Raga of Seven Virgins

Quacks vs. Biters

The War

Agnes Dei II

Worn Out Mirrors

Fantasia

Shepherd Soldier Tim

From Kisses to Shrapnel

The Old Witch

Dyeing Sun

Writ by Whom?

A New Day

Nobody is Perfect

Steady As She Goes

Alice Spring Regatta

From Orphan Boy To A Man

Intemezzo

Negrito Boy Soldier

C 282

Geriatric Lament

Work Shy II

No more tears to shed.

From Mandy to Andy in Acts Three

The World shrunk and got uglier

Standing like a lone pine tree

Born Rebels

Attila forever

Mother Earth Gia

Retail Investor’s Ballad

Who Belongs and Where?

Those Who Made A Difference

Robots in Tanka

Ghosts of Oz Black and White

Departing The Land of Smiles

Silence

Return from The Dark Side

In Memoriam

Parting Note

Storm Symphony

Where Did Oz Humor Go?

Things People Come Up With

Encounters III. From Outside Looking In

Lord Shall Provide

Encounters #4

No Way

Master Craftsman

A Modern Ballad

Devil Encounter I

Men’s Tool Shed

The Clown

Populate or Perish?

Modern Economy Verses

Modern Eulogy

Devil You Encounter II

Think We’re Smart?

Let’s have a Peace Treaty instead

Where Does Evil Reside?

To Grieve

The Four Winds

Gestapo in Bloomers

Us and Them

Introduction

Dear Raeder!

To read on or to let go? Relaxed about the way things are? Or up in arms disenchanted with instant gratification of mass media? Tried reading a contrarian’s book lately? In search of a bolshie’s poem? Daring to question, such as, what:

if anything is correct about Political Correctness;

level about Level Economical Playing Fields;

rational about Economical Rationalism;

how come 0.1% owns half of just about everything? - - -

Il caro compagnero, feel we are being had?

Or why everything has a dollar sign in front and costs ninety-nine? And how is it the rich pay token tax and you cannot seriously believe what elected leaders and Economists proclaim with a straight face?

And yet, what a great time in History! If only it had a Future. Heretics like me can rant on all they like. Inquisition is dead hoorah (!), and Peace still holds up in the West for now at least.

Aye to any of this dear soul mate, then read on. Next, has all this a place in Poetry? Poetry after all is about Life and Life surely belongs to Poetry. The answer cannot be ambiguous. Except, intimidated by C18 and other Law fabrications designed to stifle critics one cannot blame writers and poets for being ultra-cautious and write children books or stick to saucy porn instead.

Encounters anthology for a good part deals with collateral damage inflicted by wars and degraded capitalist system. Men or iron ore? It seems there is no longer a difference to bean counters. Both mere commodities. Not much makes sense as it used to. Loyalty

it seems is for dogs.

Free flowing style does no more than serve as a messenger’s tool. Substance ahead of style and word play, that’s how it used to be. Critics deride it and label such output as Political Poetry. Let’s have a look at this.

Social issues at the core here are for most part studiously avoided. It must be said Modernists seem more at home in expanding abstract feel good notions stuck in nimbus clouds somewhere. And modern poems are not meant to make practical sense.. Meanwhile Public has been over-dosed to collective sleep on Political Correctness. Political Poetry derogative? What does that really mean? - - -

The author, Joseph Tomasevic, a retired scientist resides on the South Coast of NSW.

Published under Pen Name Armin Boko previously:

The Monsoon Drifter

The Fortune Seekers

Sector Seven & of Ares and Men

Sketches and Reflections of 2012

The Bitter Harvest

The Borneo Desert

Poetry of a Common Man

Lake Heights, 30-Sept.-2016.

Encounters 1

Tossed about float some in stormy seas

Ocean’s top loader washing machine

In darkness boat the only company; or

Made to motor in war time over land-mines;

One encounters face to face Lady Solitude.

On par, when countless names you meet

In the street if for a fleeting second

Fail to recognise a single one that fits,

You met black veiled Loneliness.

Light fags for something to hold onto,

Like a High Roller; sniff coke for a kick,

Double scotch for a downer and you have

Stumbled upon a mosaic with missing pieces.

Spend hard earned money on a drug fix

To suffer hangover, endanger health

And break the Law, sad to have to say

Bro, you sound like a thoroughbred loser.

But when toiled to the bone you have

Achieved some incremental progress

Never mind of infinitesimal importance

Feeling of good karma rushes over you as

You encounter Gate Keepers of Nirvana.

Snippets of Inspiration

Airbus 320 gaining altitude

Doing just fine

It’s me out of control

Heart left behind

On the ground

Of my old homeland

Those who shared

My smile and bread

When will I see you again - - -

More stars than grains of sand

Why lotus eaters still convinced

You are the flavor of the Universe - - -

Sad truth remains

Sweet sound of no psalm

Gets near the feeling

Of heavy golden ducat

Rolling in one’s palm - - -

Who consumed

The darkness and

Lit the horizon on fire

Fresh dew calls

On a rose bud

Let us celebrate - - -

In thermodynamics of life

The more you have

The less you are - - -

It’s not what you have

But what you do

With what you have

That matters the most - - -

Sugar ant hero

He climbed

To the very top

Of the grass blade

Studiously

Scanned the horizon

His own kind alone he saw

And no other

Kind around

Thumped his chest

And proclaimed boldly

We must be

The Masters of the Universe

Not in the Mood to be unkind

Li’lle Joel Mum’s pearl

Had numbers at school,

Or so he said.

Asked to give one! Nine he shot back,

Followed by quick-fire Ninety-nine.

Only to be caught out in truancy act,

You lying little devil Mum erupted,

Ready to go for the cane,

I know where you’ve been. - - -

                Not in the mood to be unkind

                Just happen to speak my mind.- - -

Some of us being more perfect than others

I knew not of a single one

Perfect in every way,

Until this single Mum moved in.

Every male’s a scheming bastard.

This she solemnly declared.

All after one thing.

Good Lord a male I presume

Sent down a blast of Antarctic air

That took her sexy lingerie frozen off the line

Para shooting it over the neighborhood. - - -

                Not in the mood to be unkind

                Just happen to speak my mind.

The best dream I had for a while

’t was a plain load of Banksters

Marooned in Saharan sands for weeks.

I auctioneered a ten liters water can

Half full of hippo piss,

Till Head of Goldman-Sachs

Bid a cool Billion $US and derivatives on future sales.

No complains not