I Am Jesus

 I Am Jesus

 

I’m a two bit punk

Who’s hooked on junk

I’m a pregnant mother

With no lovin’ father

I’m a homeless man

Dirty as a garbage can

I am Jesus, I am Jesus

I’m God Allmighty

Bow down and worship me

O okay

Right now today

 

I’m a man on death row

I’m a preacher on a t.v. show

I’m the sperm conceived

I’m the man who believed

I’m the president of France

I’m a girl at a dance

I am Jesus, I am Jesus

I’m God Allmighty

Bow down and worship me

O okay

Right now today

 

I’m a rock and roll star

I’m the guy who went too far

I’m ugly I’m handsome

I’m Charlie Manson

I’m the pope

I’m the fellow hooked on dope

I dance in a strip tease

I’m a fag with AIDS disease

I am Jesus, I am Jesus

I’m God Allmighty

Bow down and worship me

O okay

Right now today

 

I’m a child

I’m a little wild

I’m a queer

I’m a drunkard on beer

I’m a stud

I’m a virgin

I’m a commie

I’m a nazi

I am Jesus, I am Jesus

I’m God Allmighty

Bow down and worship me

O okay

Right now today

Check out this book of Xciting song lyrics!!!!!!!

At the End of the Road

                                                     At the End of the Road

by John Kaniecki

 

       Lamar twisted his foot, slipping in slick mud. He slid for a moment like he was skidding on ice. He extended his arms, stabilizing his body. Then in earnest, he resumed his running. His eyes swiftly adjusted to the darker light. A moment ago, he was running under the brilliant sun in the sands of Egypt. Then the runner morphed, and Lamar did too. It was an unprecedented tenth time this runner had shifted to a new reality. Lamar thought, 'this one has a passion for living.'

       To win the game was to make the kill before the end of the road. Lamar had a perfect record of thirty-seven kills. At the gymnasium, Lamar had gotten a reputation for the intensity he trained with. Now with his stellar performances, it was whispered that the elders had consulted the gods about Lamar. To the young man, such talk filled him with exhilarating hope. Perhaps he could rise to become a trainer and avoid all this bloodshed. Despite his skills, the hunter detested taking life. But Lamar subscribed to the policy better to be the hunter than the hunted.

       The tracker looked around, seeing he was immersed in a jungle environment. There was a small narrow trail consisting of nothing more than wet mud and leaves. Visibility to either side of the path was limited to a few yards into the wilderness. Lamar decided to slow down the pace of the pursuit. It was a priority to know where and when in Earth's domain he was. Survival depended upon it.

       Lamar considered the conversations he shared with his fellow trackers at the gymnasium. During training, there were times when the supervisors' observation was lax, and the opportunity to exchange hushed whispers presented itself. Rather than the official reason that the hunt was training for warfare, it was considered that the races were somehow entertainment for the gods.

       The runner's mind swirled, trying to determine where he was. His ears heard a flurry of sounds indicating a host of creatures somewhere out there in the jungle. It could be Antarctica during prehistoric times. Lamar shuddered; he dreaded the thought of encountering a dinosaur. Despite the highest level of training, little could be done to overcome such a massive obstacle except bow out of the race. Thoughts of defeat saddened Lamar. The presence of death was real as well. If Lamar was attacked suddenly by some fierce giant reptile before he could bow out, disaster might result.

       Or he could be in equatorial tropics. This was extremely more likely. The greater in distance and time the morph transverses, the more energy was robbed from the runner. Again, Lamar considered his secretive moments shared with his fellow hunters. It seemed unanimous that the skill level of the runner gradually increased. The prey would become both wiser and stronger. It was rumored that the runners, too, went through extensive training to prepare for the game.

       Lamar continued on the jungle path as it began to become an incline. His mind thought about the ultimate sin, purposefully losing the game. That is letting the runner reach the end of the road without using maximum effort. At first, as a young peasant upon Earth, when Lamar was approached to become a hunter, he was thrilled to attend the gymnasium. Any opportunity to escape the mundane life of farming or mining was most welcome. He surely lacked the necessary intelligence to be accepted into the university. But Lamar came to learn that there was something to offer in all paths.

       Lamar quickened his pace as he ascended the hill. Reaching the summit, he looked ahead through a clearing in the jungle. His eyes saw the massive stone pyramids. Without a doubt, he was in the realm of the Inca Empire. The hunter's mind reeled to just moments ago as he had just left the blistering sands of ancient Egypt. There too, were massive pyramids. Creations that were created with skills that mankind did not possess. So grand these towering spires were, surely, they must be the homes of the gods.

       Lamar paused to let the breathtaking scene sink into his brain's memory. Who were the gods? What do they want? Where did they come from?  Why am I running so hard down this path? The questions reeled upon the hunter's psyche. Down below in the distance, he saw his pray. Suddenly he was morphed. It was a common trick to morph after descending a hill as it created space. 'Where am I now?' wondered Lamar. An intense cold was the first clue. The hunter pressed on, hoping to attain some satisfying answers at the end of the road.

Check out From Chaos To Cosmos

Assassination in St. Louis

 Assassination in St. Louis

 

by John Kaniecki

Hello this is the police

We have gunned down

A brother

As if he was a dog

As if there was no humanity

In this creation of God

The killer just happened to be white

And the victim black

The killer just happened to be a police man

And the victim unarmed

How many times have we seen this?

 

Hello this is the police

We are investigating ourselves

Public relations are important

So Uncle Tom leaders can preach

Trust in the system

The system isn't broken

It is designed to perpetuate slavery and genocide

And it is working just as it is intended

Hello this is the police

Above all trust us

We are the law

We are Amerikkka

If you get angry and riot

Why then we cannot conduct commerce

As usual

 

So we'll make this investigation protracted

The tedious realities of life will pop up

You will get distracted

Your anger will dissipate

Eventually things will return to normal

Until we kill again

And again

And again

You get the idea

 

Somewhere a mother is weeping for her baby

enter the poetic world of John Kaniecki 

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Aleena Zahir Benefit Concert - Where Africa Meets Heaven

 WHERE AFRICA MEETS HEAVEN

ThE qUEEN Aleena Zahir

August 29^th

Click here for information

I Am Aleena

 

Hear my voice I am the advocate of the poor

I sing for freedom I sing against war

Mother Africa she will rise as before

Good times are near knocking on the door

 

I am Aleena from the Uganda wild

I am Aleena an African child

I fight for all yearning to be free

I am Aleena the champion of liberty

 

My hands are busy planting the seeds

We must work hard to meet our needs

I shall not go down without a fight

We are the generation to make it right

 

I am Aleena from the Uganda wild

I am Aleena an African child

I fight for all yearning to be free

I am Aleena the champion of liberty

 

I want you to sing this song with me

I want you to walk by my side

I want you to sing this song with me

Africa is our mother say it with pride

 

We shall build temples for the God of Love

He will answer with blessing from above

The Almighty will smile and turn the page

We are walking to a blessed age

 

I am Aleena from the Uganda wild

I am Aleena an African child

I fight for all yearning to be free

I am Aleena the champion of liberty 

Why she's da qUEEN!

Poetry

 Poetry

 

By John Kaniecki

 

 Poetry

Rumble, tumble, grumble

An awkward phrase on which I stumble

A street light shining in day

Clang, clang, the trolley comes our way

She has a yellow scarf shiny as the sun

And in romantic verse, she’d be the one

A savoir my soul to redeem

An angelic vision straight from a dream

Unless I was Edgar Allen Poe

Or Henry David Thoreau

The lass could be dark and grim

Or an elf of the forest nimble and slim

So I ride the trolley to where it would go

Slowly up the hill, slow, slow, slow

She smiles grand with love so real

Yet feelings are only what you feel

A quiver, a jump, a tremor of the heart

Poetry

Above all my friend is an art

poetic world of John Kaniecki 

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Johnnie Valentine

 Johnnie Valentine

 

Here he comes walking down the line

Much brighter than the sunshine

Like an angel singing simply divine

Who could it be but Johnnie Valentine?

 

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Oh won’t you come and be my guy

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Come on Johnnie give me a try

 

They call my friend Johnnie ninety-nine

One short of perfection so mighty fine

Every day I say he puts it on the line

Who could it be but Johnnie ninety-nine?

 

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Oh won’t you come and be my guy

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Come on Johnnie give me a try

 

Lea don’t you worry don’t trouble your mind

If Johnny left you he’d have to be blind

Because between the two you’re the better find

But rhyming your name would put me in a bind

 

See him in the church house kneeling in prayer

Every Sunday morning I meet Johnnie there

Hoping that someone will turn water into wine

Go give it a try Mister Johnnie Valentine

 

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Oh won’t you come and be my guy

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Come on Johnnie give me a try

 

He’s the real deal pure and genuine

That’s my friend Johnnie Valentine

Love and hate the two forces intertwine

We all decide says Johnnie ninety-nine

 

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Oh won’t you come and be my guy

As he walks on by all the girls sigh

Come on Johnnie give me a try

Check out my book of song lyrics "Without The Music"

https://www.amazon.com/Without-Music-Song-Lyrics-Kaniecki/dp/1985350645

“Sound Of Time”

 “Sound Of Time”

 

If I could hear the sound of time 

Or tell the next life’s rhyme

I would ever be ready 

To work & remain steady 

In this heavenly race

& avert the eternal blaze

 

If I could see what God holds next 

Or tell if he’s done weaving his nest 

I would cleanse myself 

& dust my dirty shelf

I’ll jump into this chance 

& worship my bones into a balance 

 

If I could gauge the length of my stay or tell

If I would soon become stale

& kiss the dust so early, with my name 

Burning off in a quick amber flame

I would spend my brief time having fun

Instead of working all my life under the sun

 

If I could hear from Cupid 

About how to fool in love & not be stupid 

In the sight of those who feign romance 

As a syndrome lovers choose for balance 

I would petal my wings over the woodlands

& grow a colorful duvets over my lover’s badlands 

 

If I could read the mind of wealth 

Or tell if it roots into the evil that’ll ruin my health 

If only I could tell for sure that this life is a dream

I would hurry my gait towards a nearby stream

& gather a handful of water to cleanse my sight 

So I can wake & see beyond this height

Biography:

Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan(he/him) is a keen writer of Izzi, Abakaliki ancestry. He is a Final Year Medical Laboratory Science Student. A Forward Prize nominee and the winner 2021, WAN--Cookout Poetry Prize. He is found of his poorly lit room where he tweets @wordpottersull1 and he believes that asking for a pact of light grows him into a greenhouse. He has works published or forthcoming at IS&T, The Shore, B’K Mag, Tilted House, Journal Nine, Sub-Saharan Mag, Analogies & Allegories. Wondrous Real Mag, Rulerless, The Deadlands and elsewhere.

Dear John,

Thank you so much!

This win is a huge one for me and I'm grateful for it.

 

Here's a linktree to some of my works and these works are the tip of the iceberg which I'm capable of:

https://linktr.ee/ChidiebereSull

The photograph will be posted if the nervous young poet can listen to simple instructions and send it as an attachment!

Dear John,

Thank you so much for the prize; I received it barely an hour of my announcement as the winner of the contest.

I can't express the joy I feel being rewarded a cash prize like this, but I'm forever grateful for this opportunity.

Sincerely,

Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan 

Dear John,

The genuineness of this contest is very commendable and it deserves much more publicity. Sincerely, I will love to contribute my earnest quota in ensuring that it gains enough publicity especially within the league of my fellow writers within Nigeria and even beyond.

I'm also urging anyone who's reading this comment to partake in this contest. 

I love the sincerity with which John is doing this selfless work of rewarding writers through cash prizes; of course, such a gesture will go a long way in motivating and encouraging the creative mindset of a writer.

Thank you, John for this beautiful opportunity.

Sincerely,

Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan 

Caramel Toned Woman In America

 

Caramel Toned Woman In America

 

By John Kaniecki

 

Tar baby?

Maybe, but if I slit your throat

That ain’t what Jesus wrote

Except that brown brother (you know our Savior)

Hip!?! WE Love one another!

But sweet Lord, a blessed reward

Would be an ounce of brains

Hey who complains?

Except the babies starving in anguished cries

And so America dies

I’m a caramel toned woman in Amerikkka

Is that coming in loud?

Is this a little 2 proud?

Come on sistah join the crowd

I kicked back with Susan B Anthony

She got a coin

And if I find a righteous revolution I’ll join

In fact, if it’s true

God bless the IWW

Sweet Jesus, molasses and honey

Church of Christ

And preachers charging a premium price

Hey, may I say, this poem is for free

Unlike me

CARAMEL TONED WOMEN IN the good old US of A

I pray

Sweet Lord Jesus on my knees

Crawling with the cockroaches in sadistic slimy disease

Please

Oh please, please, please

I ain’t joking in my pleas

Etc. etc. etc.

Turn the other cheek

Blessed are the meek

Think before you speak

Don’t take me as weak

I’ll humble myself to die for the cause

And as Paul, I recall, used all the laws

A Roman Citizen and pharisee of pharisees

Strategies

Like playing checkers with chess pieces

Munkeishia Jackson

She got the righteous action

Caramel toned woman in America

A black Israelite ain’t my delight

I see the light

I am the light

I will not fight

With fists and knives

Faith survives

Tested and tried

My Lord, My Lord!

Crucified!

No matter the color of your skin

You are guilty of sin

Understand every losing hand is a loss

Victory

Only in the cross

 

I walked on the edge of a Mountain

Baptized in the seas of agony

I saw the stars of glory shining pure

Crushed by the iron crucifix

I could take no more

No more

What’s the cents?

Billions for defense

And then, at the final amen

I was born again

And again, and again, again

The Lord provided the Lamb

The great I Am

 

Carmel toned woman in America

Just who you are?

A shooting star?

So clever falling forever

Never

To deny or shame

The holy name

Jesus above all

In the emptiness of the wilderness I scream the call

Jesus above all

And who am I?

To live or to die

In the whispery dream of the fanatic’s scream

In this poetic lesson I’m a coming to ya

Caramel toned woman in America 

poetic world of John Kaniecki 

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