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The greatest minds are mocked and heckled,
but are usually right.
The greatest knowledge, is usually found,
in the simplest places.
Dreams if not a catalyst, to initiate the revelation
of truth; often contain the truth.
Look within for the golden chalice; the legendary
“Grail”; you’ll find it wrapped in the “golden fleece”.
Wisdom is gleaned in flight across the veil;
no soul, seeking light, is abandoned to the dark.
Mind comes from mind, returns to mind, lives in mind.
The enlightened never use the word, can’t.
If “ignorance is bliss”,
skeptics must be the happiest creatures on Earth.
The gift of denial never pays to light one single candle.
Light is provided free, to the open mind;
the greatest minds are the wires, through which,
the human batteries are charged;
universal mind initiates the transfer.
The light in the darkness, the dreams that come true,
should never be doused by the waters of ignorance.
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Birds sing freely from fallen trees
Demolished to visually express
Their power over firmly rooted
Expressions of universal rights
Inherent to all mankind
Yet, the birds sing freely
Able to disperse like water to
All who need refreshment
Many are waking up thirsty
The quenching has begun
Beware false flags blamed
On patriots, instigated by
Mentally ill patsies groomed
By gov't agencies
Do not believe these lies
True patriots only defend
And will never initiate evil
Against any persons
Our power comes from a
Higher Place, present in all
Living things
All life breathes
So truth is everywhere
Victory is legion
I am anonymous
12/21/14
© All Rights Reserved
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Endangered Trailblazing
by Odin Roark
Astride his father’s shoulders,
Like a double decker bus,
There was always what his father saw,
And the child’s gaze beyond.
They learned together
What their senses taught them of reality.
There were so many hills his father climbed,
The boy seeing what was ahead on horizons,
The father focused on firm footholds,
Following trusted forest imprints,
Relying on tradition’s habitude.
This father is long gone now.
This boy of shoulder wonderment
Has grown wise of rugged tracks
Leading to this day.
The day…
A stormy December afternoon
Staring through a digital lens
Atop a mid-town observation deck,
The boy now a man
Stares outs across a skyscraper landscape,
A winterous tundra his father never had to pioneer.
Realizing the Now of navigating
Relies little on the primitive tracks,
When plant,
Animal,
Rock,
Weather,
Parts of the undeniable whole
Determined shelter and food,
Life and death.
Wisdom,
The oft missing essence of success,
Impacts little of today’s aspiration,
Whose awareness respects not learned footprints,
Nor hardened determination
To stay true to a right direction,
Instead…
All too often
Success honors but bushwhacked obstacles,
The opportunity to conquer any and all,
The razed aside,
Inert and live,
Banished and dead,
Leaving many to query
What lens can sharpen that which isn’t there?
Today’s existence is but yesterday’s ethereal presence,
Once preceded by integritous footholds/handholds,
The resplendent oneness of nature’s vast inner-connection,
Now all but buried beneath
A stumbling culture’s duplicitous stepping stones.
Tracks lead precariously to penthouse suites
Where an eagles nest is but a Britannica reference,
A redolent library book of often ignored history
Reminding a father’s boy
Staring through glass-layered revelation
That decisions need pondering past momentary reward,
That Nature’s swirling white layering the once wilderness of discovery
May be foreshadowing avalanche forces
Unrestrained in their ability to bury man.
Pulling his eye away from the telescope,
He considers a wind gust
Lifting snow daring not to confront the ground,
Choosing instead to swirl,
To levitate with perhaps man’s exhausted currents from below,
Struggling to rise through waning memory,
Trajectories of so many devoted fathers
Trusting honest trailblazing would never disappear.
Fortunately…
Like the cyclic snows from on high,
Rising temperatures initiate their own revolution.
Endings return to beginnings
Nullifying load and weight.
Time’s undaunted sagacity knows
Once civilization’s latest aspiration expends,
Creation knows no better
Than to invent new trails,
New boys on father’s shoulders,
Tomorrow’s then and now…
Again.
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A poem is never merely still born,
It has its creator's eyes,ears and nose
Yet,unique it lives a life of its own
Independent,well able to stand alone;
On others it can,influence,affect
Energise,direct or initiate
A response,unforseen and immediate
Or lie dormant,yet not dead,but waiting;
Watered by another's mutual bond
resurrected,to live again,again.
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Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk?
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new
generation which skewer post present parental postulates
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions.
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it,
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize,
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil,
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder,
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx,
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued
prominantly with no recall references to problematic
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.
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Dull As A Disease
I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
Behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in apt flair
You look real as life, my amore mia.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
When I initiate to scribe sonnet,
I see you duly embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, lips as dry as a leaf
Your green blue deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither the death kills me, nor does the life,
Your very silence eats my soul and body.
Dull as a disease, I die of a thought,
Do not you fancy the same as I ought?.
============================
Date 21-10-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third place win
Contest: I Recall by Frank H.
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I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
And behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in the air,
You look real as life to me, “Amore Mio”.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
I initiate to scribe a sonnet,
And lo! I see you embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, the lips as a dried leaf,
Your greenish deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither death kills me, nor does lonely life,
But your silence eats my soul and body.
Numb as a disease, I die of a thought,
My love, don’t you sense the same as I aught?
=========================
A Shakespearian sonnet in Iambic Pentameter (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG)
Contest: Loneliness 7Th place win
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hanging from the foliage
in your hundreds
repainting the leaves
in bright shades
of black and orange
with your waterproof
gossamer wings
of four inch span
so fragile and
yet so strong
enabling you
to journey south
across america
from canada to mexico
breeding new generations
as you travel
thousands of miles
with unerring accuracy
to the exact place
of your birth
to breed
a new generation
that will initiate
the process for
the return journey
to the north
in due course
you are indeed
the monarch
of butterflies
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Darkness lays awake,
waiting upon her breaker.
The one that lies upon her and whispers to go,
leave behind nothing that you covered with your soul...
Yet she knows she does not need to hear these words
to initiate her departures; she could velvet herself
and ghost over the world so simply.
like a cloth dip in red wine; enveloping the color,
but not savoring the need of intoxication.
She stays
wanting to feel his warmth,
wanting to feel his glow over her body,
that truly in a way, makes her disappear,
for the world forgets her till she comes again.
and again
and again
torturing herself, for every ray of light cuts her skin,
but she is not masochistic.
Why does she stay?
Why does she endure?
He's coming, slowly over her...
He Rises.
Rises in such an ill manner, That you would think
he would give up an descend once more.
once more so he could ponder and wish;
all more to the dreamer that stays asleep in his wake.
How he wants to be one of these creatures that get to roam
inside her skirt, laugh between her legs, and rest upon her bosom.
Envy
so much of it heat rises, why he still feels the need to cry...
He feels her fleeting,
never ever seeing her, her known only by his touch.
His eyes stay close needing, pleading, seething,
just to see
just to see her
just...her
He stands fully now and the world is smiling,
but he is not.
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( A Shakespearean Soonet - with 14 syllables- rhyming abab,cdcd,efef,gg)
My balcony was covered by a huge sycamore tree,
My constant companion during the snowy Maple days,
Memories come as insects around a flowering tree
Turning my gloomy days into that of glorious days.
First candid approach in medicine to initiate,
Hippocrates sat under sycamore tree to explain,
As Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree to meditate,
Nirvana or the enlightenment of mind to attain.
Father Cavanaugh aptly called it ‘The tree of vengeance’,
Othello’s Desdemona sat sighing by sycamore,
Flying to Egypt Virgin Mary rested under once,
Known to be as crann ban “money tree” in Iris folklore.
To demystify health care and known to personalize,
My sycamore exists to socialize and poetize.
=====================================
Fifth place winner in
Contest: Shakespearean or English Sonnet in honor of John freeman
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Life Beyond.
Being in love allowed her to listen to her heart today and enter
willingly into the outside world that is full of life & love. It will allow
her to face her fate before its to late.
Being in love allowed her to create an imagination to initiate her
identity and appreciate her destined lover no matter how much
she`ll debate oppose engage or calculate she will rejoice to have
a life with him.
Being in love will allow her in the future not to refrain her
destiny allow it to move on its own rate as worry anger and hate
will not exist only joy with her worthy lover will allow the snow blow
them towards each other to embrace their effortless love.
Being in love will depend on how she will regain her
sovereignty nourish her heart to turn towards her
ideology idolize her creativity applaud and welcome an
appeal to become two persons of steel as she wouldn't
want to die alone around a fountain only with the sound
of the water drops.
Being in love will allow them to walk to the end of the
bay find a bank to stay distinguish the thousands of stars
watch over them as a life beyond can still feel
and look beautiful.
Being in love will allow her to ask herself if she can take the
chance to grow up fast have the power of their love lead
them to that mountain peak build that home to spend
their endless nights in love with the stars above.
Being in love will allow them to run towards their dreams
show everybody how powerful they become when in love
surrender to their souls throughout the night when they do,
they will never hesitate but long to belong to spoil each other
listen and feel how they could find a way to satisfy their needs
with yearning eyes and tremendous respect.
Being in love tenderly she will whisper what a gift they
are to one another they will adore each other they will feel
how they could discover each other and look forward for a
future together never to leave as both of them now cant
ever survive without one another including the blazing
stars straight towards them from above.
Being in love and not wait to allow their souls walk together
hand in hand during that long journey, talk words of love
words to fill their own desires words that can never be replaced
being in love will allow them not to leave a trace to be found
for a while to become lovers with a strong passion enlace
their bodies to live the beyond as one.
Once they get older they will give up their last breath
while breathing each others names.
Therese Bacha
21/2/2013
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Where Lud gave wing, Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old, gift Druid hand.
Shadow depth seek, sharp sable beak,
pierce psyche veils when prophets speak,
messenger calls through ancient halls
where Raven reigns the Tower walls.
Fey healer fly, the night-world sky
initiate Ovates nigh,
beckoning deep, iconic keep,
hark Raven calls to dreamless sleep.
Where Lud gave wing Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old gift Druid hand,
the Queens of old gift Druid hand.
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If (all) thoughts are words
To (easily) come by exactly
As internally initiate,
Believe me, no word thinks,
Will go un-remind.
- Abdulhafeez Oyewole.
For: Giorgio Veneto's
"Laconic Verse I"
Contest.
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Heat my heart I hear a hero
this soul soothed, stilled, and silenced
golden, growth, gave me a guru
within, wild, waiting to whisper
I inclined, initiate impossible
imagine infinite isn't so infamous
IMHO SMH serves no justice
TKO LOL no need omega
delighted to deliver dharmic direction
self-appointed steward of selfless
practiced not perfect, positive portions
critical for compassionate connections
we, world, will win, with unity
culture continues to counter crosses
mediated meeting my middles merciful
If you think you know then answers pass by
not one mind built this vision
landmine lands filled with landfills
minus minding multiple menaces
covet care cause its a rare case
corporate ladder, or conscious staircase
choices chastised, for coursing courageous
caring contagious, counting on cowards
evils aired aren't left faceless
sights for sure are sore from wayside
be the change to see a day is seized
stay cold-hearted and this place will freeze
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watch
I initiate
I give
Love
Lord
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An Alien Reports Human Contact
By Elton Camp
A UFO pilot informs his superiors
The planet with bipedal life forms teems
Their lives depend on an object, it seems
Which, in their possession, they keep
Except at the times when they sleep
As soon as they begin to rove around
It will emit a strange electronic sound
To their ear opening they will press
In speech sounds began to address
Although it might seem rather odd
It may be how they worship their god
They talk a bit and then there’s a break
Perhaps from their god instructions take
A signal, the life forms needn’t wait
But communication can also initiate
They enter numbers and press Send
Once more, their worship may begin
A planet with intelligence so low
Is no place that our race should go
To come here, no profit can bring
From them we can’t learn a thing
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I initiate
I give
You will back your work
Love
Lord
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I've been to many places.
Seen so many things.
This is where I'll stay, my friends,
Where the bell of freedom rings.
But let me tell a story,
Of bells in other lands.
And how they cracked and crumbled,
From the weight of tyranny's hands.
Built with truth and honesty,
Ringing pure for years.
The people were the sovereigns,
Their status very clear.
But then the tone was changing.
A few were quite upset.
Understanding government
Can be their greatest threat.
The servants said, "The tone is off!"
"We'll fix it if we can.
We'll initiate a bureau
To carry out our plan,
And tax you just a little more
For work that must be done."
The timbre slowly getting worse.
The process had begun.
The people were oblivious
To changes being made.
The bell was slowly cracking
And higher taxes laid.
A private corporation
Controlled the currency.
The gold was taken from them
Along with liberty.
Soon the people asked for help,
They could not stand the weight.
The bell was falling swiftly,
To be destroyed, it's fate.
And they became the servants
That swept up the remains,
Of the bell that fell on hallowed land
And truth that it contains.
The thought of being sovereign?
For a few, a memory.
But most do not remember
Of ever being free.
They struggle, and the simple things
Are now a luxury,
And those that pull the puppet's strings,
Control their destiny.
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Mandela In You
I scanned into your entire writ
I perceived an unremitting wit;
There’s a Mandela in You,
Oozing from your daring script;
Loaded with a spirit of sacrifice
To eradicate mundane malice
There’s a Mandela in You,
That resonates in your artifice!
A Fighter for Mankind’s thrall,
Equality for gender and for all
There’s a Mandela in You
Reprimanding: Divided We Fall!
Peace is in your daring hand
Which you staunchly defend
For, Mandela in You says
“No to Civil Wars in our Land!”
Women also need their space
Enough to powder their face
There’s a Mandela in You
Lending impetus to their pace!
Antipathy, aloud do denigrate
Which Warmongers do initiate
There’s a Mandela in You,
With a smile that doesn’t fail;
It intones when Spirit is weary
Shining when the Sky is dreary
There’s a Mandela in You
Painting Blue the Sky so bleary!
Write, write, your mantra write
Let revulsion be in your write
For, there’s a Mandela in You
Pleading for Humanity to Unite!
Dedicated to Zimbabwean Poet, Wilson Mapfumo upon being inspired by his Poem: Cry Africa.
JM
14th Oct’ 2013
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Do I dare?
As years passed, I continued to wonder
Haunted by a silent question
Buried at the back of my head, is a lifetime quest for answers
Lurking in my subconscious, Is a lifetime of shadows
Masked in deep shaded silhouettes
Caught up in a maze of illusions
A space were pieces of my life laid buried
Loaded with decades of uncertainty
What do I dare to call him?
The one I know only from memories
Like a ghost, he roams behind closed doors
Exists in a parallel universe
Masquerading in my dreams
Disappears and appears at random times
I had worshiped him, and his unwillingness to conform
Fascinated by his magic tricks
Abra cadabra, he vanished just as quickly
Snatched away by the world of the unknown
Never really knew him, acquainted only with his visage
He lives in my fantasy land
What should I call this man?
He remains a mystery
He with no care in the world
The first to initiate me into the grownup world of heartbreak
To teach me of unbearable sorrow and disappointment
It is he that brought me great despair
Partook in my bearing, but showed me no mercy
He wounded me, preparing my heart for a long battle ahead
Stealing my precious childhood
As I spend my life’s journey walking on splinters of broken glasses
Like a wounded soldier, I bore old scars
With bible verses, scripted on my soul
I now thread carefully through life, running away from all that reminds me of him
Struggling to leave his shadows behind
As I now embody his vile illness
With a heart that has turned to decay
Do I dare call him father?
He took advantage of my innocence, toyed with my vulnerable nature
He is the cause of my masked loneliness
Like a wet sponge, I had absorbed his ways
Floundering through life like a mythical creature
Blundered by his lies and broken promises
And all I was seeking was his validation
But in his absence he deemed me unworthy
For so long I kneeled as he ordered
Like a gospel, I followed his every command
Yet, he constantly broke the vows he swore to keep
Do I dare call him father?
The man whose heart had grown as cold as stone
He that watched me wither away to his very eyes
As I made my slow fall from grace
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She comes here to PS in between breaks
After carefully giving her carpets the shakes
She's cooked and cleaned and gone out to shop
Chased after the kids till she's ready to drop
Worked at the office, then watched kids at play
Now it has come to the end of her day
He pats her bum, then passes out on the couch
She's fuming inside cause he’s such a slouch
Then it’s off to bed where he gives a quick hug
She's wondering if she can give him a slug
She wants him to woo her, initiate sex
“Oh, by the way,” he groans, “Did you feed Rex?”
She kicks the covers and jumps out of bed
“Turn out the light,” he yells; she just sees red.
She goes to her laptop to escape the scene
Words speak to her heart, the ones on the screen
"These men Soupers are... in love with words, too
They know how to please and be nice to you."
Their words are romantic, they seem larger than life
She continues to wonder, “Is HE nice to his wife?”
Or is this a world where nothing is real
There are no boundaries to what one can feel
Hubby’s in bed, and she shuts out his snore
But the guy on PS makes her heart soar!!
How can a man be expressive like this?
She wonders what he would be like to kiss
Such chivalry, charm, and such pure delight
Before she knows it…. she's up all the night
Got to get going, breakfast can’t be late
Her halo is slipping; no longer a saint
She wonders, "Why is hubby not into you?
The pressures of life have made him so blue."
But right before he walks out of the door
“Tonight, sugar plum, going to let out a roar!”
So she smiles and then giggles, “PS can wait..
Oh please God…don’t let hubby… come home too late!”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
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Spinning in endless misdirection and
holding steady on a collision course with
oblivion
Reaching beyond the fallacies of a mundane existence
where there appears to be a
chaotic freedom
a time now to initiate a purpose
Heading full throttle into uncharted waters
But now
In total control the words echoing
Loudly through the passageways that
The Captain is on the bridge.
There comes a time in one's life when we need to be in charge of our own
destiny, when we look back and put it all into perspective.
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SAPPHO’S FALLING STARS (Part one)
I am descendent of Odysseus
Hero of the past
Have I kin—I know not—I may be the last--
The Trojan War and Helen made my family's blazing fame
Thus magnified by Homer was made our honor and ancestral name
I stand this day the General of the fallen men that the Fates have tossed
across the Siren Sappho's way—
now foolishly slain-- my Fallen Stars
such a ragged few
in this paltry breath of a moment
of mere delay--
Inconsequential time in history
forever lost—
at their honor’s cost
for Mine, a Mighty Name
excuses easily such inconsequential blame
I cannot weep—I cannot pray
Such sacrifice of brave men
Lifeless , While I stand whole
Due to my folly
Sucks the breath stark from my soul
Yarns and lore of Heroes—I know
Babe……. to youth……… in manhood……..
Each far-flung hour, day upon dew-kissed day
Nurtured ever cherished in the sweet talk of the female-breast-kissed way
Absorbed sensuous tactics laced with salty woman taste--so learned
Intimately known as my manhood blossomed
Intimate Initiate—once
You, Sappho, sought my need –-
Intimate follower once—
I ate your passion delicious sauced with greed
(part two posted)............................................
Victoria Anderson-Throop 12/18/12 ©
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My only love each day I rise up
My only love I class a prize
The only person I can implore
The only human I do adore
Like a promise of love I see
Those eyes they initiate love in me
For in those eyes there’s only love
Which I think echoed from above
My only love is locked inside
My only love my ecstatic bride
So it goes it will accrue
Never ending for only you are true
My only loved one may I please
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David is small teenage boy from Israel
A son of Jesse whose king named Saul
He carried a slingshot on his side for protection
Used it for work with a matching pouch of stones
There’s a war between Israel and Philistine
Takes forty days for them to initiate how to begin
David knew about the giant called Goliath
Not afraid to fight him without any mask
He only carried with him his faith to defeat
The mighty giant whom every man is afraid
One day David saw Goliath at the battlefield
Ready to fight, so he closed his eyes and prayed
The giant move forward for a great kill
David reached his bag and used his skills
The stone hit the giant straight in the forehead
He fell face down on the ground and really beg
David took Goliath sword, killed him and cut his head
He did it finally and triumphantly makes the giant dead
I compare this story of faith and bravery to our dear David the poet
With his powerful poems makes us inspired even if we didn't meet yet
Enjoy your long vacation together with your beautiful wife
I know you are happy sharing unforgettable moments in life
October 24, 2012
By: Maria Paz
For Cyndi's "A David For David" Contest
1st Place Winner
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