Poetry of the Fifth Ape

By Ardi Krum and Denise Saleh

Ardi Krum wrote poetry to express emotions and thoughts during her years of earnestly seeking God. A God who, through a congregation of evangelicals, she grew to fear yet sincerely begged for his love. Her inquisitive mind needed answers concerning doctrine yet the church demanded a life based solely on faith and questions were discouraged. So, even with the threat of a wrathful God, Ardi began reaching outside her circle to professors and scholars. Ardi encountered people who could answer her questions based on scientific facts. Over time both the stories and the poetry change from a defeated young woman pleading with a deity for acceptance to a woman brazenly stepping outside the shadow of the cross. Through an unquenchable thirst for answers, supported by facts, you see the transformation from a humiliated fallen angel to a primate rising up and awakening as the Fifth Ape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781665507806

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© 2020 Ardi Krum. 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 11/19/2020

ISBN: 978-1-6655-0779-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-0778-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-0780-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020922641

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views

of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982

by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

CONTENTS

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Introduction

Preface

Before The Poetry

Stronger Still

Stronger Still

Sin No More

Sin No More

He Knows

He Knows

Hope

Hope

Really There

Really There

Shards Of Glass

Shards Of Glass

Trinkets

Trinkets

Angels

Angels

I Prayed For You

I Prayed For You

Learning To Relearn

Embrace

I Stayed

Silent Echoes

Working Dog

Finally Free

Finally Free

Empty Pews

Empty Pews

Crimson Shame

Puppeteer

Amid My Storm

Amid My Storm

Waltzing To Screams

The Chosen One

With You In Spirit

With You In Spirit

London

London

Prison Of My Soul

Creating Your Hell

Creating Your Hell

Cloak Of Damnation

Clench Jaw

Cradling Humanity

Cradling Humanity

Black Waters Of

Melancholy

Black Waters Of Melancholy

Anxiety

Horse Drawn Hearse

Hollow Black

Red Rage

Tears Of Black

Armed With Reason

Armed With Reason

Sister Of Mine

Sister Of Mine

Edge Of The Nest

Forging Heaven

Listen

Apostle Of Facebook

Progress

Gerald Cooley

She Is Risen

INTRODUCTION

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I can recall the precise moment I began my journey of critical thinking, the moment I began to question my superiority to the other animals on this planet.

I was left in a childcare facility while my mother participated in an upholstery class offered at a local college. My age must have been very young, as my head did not even reach the caregiver’s waistband. I was in a room with more than twenty children from ages four to fourteen, yet among all those children, I noticed one boy across the room. He was about thirteen years old, and he was watching my every move very intently, as though he were a predator stalking his prey. He made me feel very uncomfortable.

I notified my caregiver several times of the situation, only to be told to Go play, and Stop being silly. After a while, I began to settle into play, yet every few seconds, I would look up to verify the location of my stalker. Finally, I looked up and he was gone. My eyes glanced about the room, trying to find his location. Abruptly, a force tackled me from the left side. He pinned me to the ground and wildly began pounding my chest. After the ordeal was over, all that kept running through my mind was I told you so. I told you. At that moment in my life, I began an obsession with behaviors, not as a fearful victim, but as a passionate spectator of these intriguing primates called humans. How did I know he was stalking me? What inside me let me know I was in danger? Why did I need this ability when I was sure I was not an animal? My name is Ardi Krum, and this is my journey to awakening as the fifth ape.

PREFACE

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In my youth, I was a tomboy; I stayed in the trees, played football, dismembered the swing set to make a cannon that shot 4ft arrows into the neighbor’s yard, which the police promptly made us dismantle. I did everything my older brother did and was determined to do it better. Every bruise was a point, and every broken bone was a trophy. I was curious and possessed a determined mind that raced with questions, yet any answer I discovered almost always led to another question. My racing mind often gave adults the impression I was not paying attention and I guess, in a sense, I wasn’t. I was busy investigating my world.

My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Truevine, was a tall, distinguished, yet imposing black woman. She was very kind, though her presence demanded respect, which she indeed received from me. I was one of her white children, and she treated us no differently than anyone else in the class. In our fourth grade Christmas play, Mrs. Truevine strongly suggested I play the part of the Virgin Mary. I did not want to participate in the play, and when I asked why I should be Mary, she answered, Child, you are white, and you have long, black hair. Now don’t make me call your mother.

End of conversation. I played the Virgin Mary.

My task in the play was to sit in the manger scene while holding Baby Jesus, and when the music stopped, I was supposed to gingerly place Baby Jesus in his make-shift crib and exit the stage. Now allow me to explain how the scene played out.

I was holding Baby Jesus and began to notice how his crib was constructed. Then questions started flooding my mind: Why is that bolt there? Is that real hay? I wonder where it came from? I wonder how much cows weigh? And on it went. The music stopped and jolted my mind back to reality. I got up and started to exit the stage, still holding Baby Jesus. Mrs. Truevine was behind the curtain frantically motioning for me to put Baby Jesus in the crib. In a state of panic, I turned, held Baby Jesus by his feet, and flung him about six feet in the air toward the crib. He landed with a resounding thud as Baby Jesus hit his head on the side of the crib. It wasn’t pretty, but Jesus made it from point A to point B and settled in the crib. In my mind, I thought, Nailed it! Cool! Then, I turned to continue my exit. As I stepped closer to my exit, there was Mrs. Truevine, hand on her hip and lips pursed. I became frightened. I turned to run away from Mrs. Truevine. I ran around the stage with my towel on my head, searching for different openings in the curtain to make my escape, yet had no success. The audience was booming with laughter as Mrs. Truevine came on stage, grabbed my arm, and pulled me off stage, ranting something about going to Hell for throwing Baby Jesus.

This memory always brings me joy, yet it sets the stage for my lifelong struggle with conformity. As I became older and began earnestly studying scripture, my questions kept many preachers busy and agitated. Slowly over time, I began to realize they used indoctrination tactics to silence me. They attempted to hush me with trite saying like, Just seek God’s will, or You are called to live by faith, not by sight, or Satan makes you question. For many years, I was made to feel evil for even thinking those questions. Looking back, I realized they didn’t like my questions because they had no answers. They attempted to cover their ignorance by placing God in the gaps where they lacked knowledge, then implemented fear to keep me quiet and obedient. My inability to believe without question once led me to believe I was somehow flawed and sinful, but I later learned it was natural. This quest for answers is how humans discover and navigate the world around them. It’s essential for human survival.

BEFORE THE POETRY

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Growing up in East Texas, it was incumbent on everyone to attend church, and if you could not participate in one, you must at least believe in God. At an early age, I was unaware some people did not believe in God. The church my family chose to attend was Christ Rising Assembly of God, a full gospel Pentecostal church. As a woman, you were discouraged from cutting your hair, and you were to dress in modest attire (long dresses) and no makeup. Women were also subject to the husband’s rules as they firmly believe God gave man charge over women. Pentecostals were known for becoming