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abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
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angel anger
angst animal
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chanukah character
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child child abuse
childhood children
chocolate christian
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color columbus day
community computer
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cousin cowboy
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death death of a friend
december dedication
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funny funny love
future games
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girlfriend giving
god golf
good friday good morning
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gospel gothic
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grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
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horror horse
house how i feel
howl humanity
humor humorous
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hyperbole i am
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immigration independence day
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inspiration inspirational
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leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
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metaphor middle school
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missing missing you
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motivation mountains
moving on mum
murder muse
music my child
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rights river
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rose roses are red
rude sad
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Long God Poems

Long God Poems. Below are the most popular long God by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long God poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Gaia Out Speaks

Queen Gaia
of Earth's Shabbat
is here to speak today.

she can only sign,
and the only way she can see
is through our DNA/RNA fractally-balancing syntax,
so she has asked if she could respond to your questions,
as she understands them
within Time,
who are her TransParent Gender Memories,

YangGod, of Physical Convex Special Case Universe,
and Goddess YinYin,
of metaphysical RNA-temporal syntax,
both bilaterally and bicamerally-reiteratively balancing
Earth Tribes of organic ecosystemic processors,
and planters and dialectical planners,
with interdependently balancing consumer and production functions,
exegeting iconic communication
about natural-empirical facts of Earth's nutritional life,
with Zero-centric dialectical neutral tone and energy
and spacetime,
+/(-,-) neural-synaptic/aptic
ecotemporal balance of Time's transparent memory.

Wow, go Gloria,
you optimize my Mother's BiCameral Pretensions
with such dense summary
of WinWin's PolyCultural HealthCare and Safety CQI 
CoOperative Agenda!

About which we are facing some increasingly climatic issues
of ecosystemically pathological trends
throughout our full RNAcentric EcoLens,
and through our DNAcentric AnthroLens,
where correlational trends
of human political and economic and nutritional systemic ends
of all paradigmatic cultural dialects
are now at both high and deep levels of pathological risk,
as well as polycultural and cooperative health opportunity
to mutually embrace this Transitional Time,
remembering our Golden Rule applies
through both our AnthroLens
and our EcoLens.

Thank you for that background summary
of your unfortunately limited synergetic flow power
during this Yin-recessive moment
within YanGod's precessive, evolutionary transition
toward full-balancing Interior with Exterior,
Ego with Eco, DiPolar Identities
of Time's polycultural diversity.

I don't know how many questions you will invest
with all your climatic signing
necessary to be heard and seen right now,
trying to gently calm all the "Loser!" angers and fears
within critical-transitional, revolutionary change,
so I will ask my personal favorite
because I find it so curious:

"Queen Gaia, don't you think it would be Bodhisattva Warrior timely
to come out of your bisexual agenda closet?"

You know, that is one of my favorite questions too,
in part because it took me so long to hear it.

It is difficult to hear and comprehend climatic questions
that you are confident you have already responded toward,
signed with sufficient redundancy
as to be ridiculously ubiquitously flying in obviousness.
Of course our RNA and DNA memory embryonic strings
are full dipolar-engendered,
so how could Queen Gaia of Shabbat's historical-cultural Creation Story
be anything other than TransParent Yang/YinYin as WinWin
evolutionary co-gravitational thermodynamic revolutioning balance
of BiLateral-Reiterative Genetic Time?

Species of systems,
like any possible imaginable metaphysical use of the word "system,"
must have Yang/Yin balanced-governance economics
to interdependently sustain synergetic dynamics,
positively healthy regeneration trends
capable of consumer and/or producer systemic function.
Neutrally (0)-balanced ecosystems,
sustained in RealTime cooperative interdependence,
are Positive-PolyCultural trending
and Negative-MonoCultural trending
dipolar BiNomial Balance of at least outsideness
as appositionally equivalent double-binding insideness,
cogravitational boundary of surfing BiGenderative Time.

So, yes,
Queen Gaia is BiGenderal
and therefore Shabbat signs
with DiPolar Syntax language,
with normative-neutral
ecosystemically BiGendering 
positive/light OVER negative/dual-bound transparent
equi-valent 4-seasons
of dialectical reason and co-intelligent in-formation
eco-flowing optimized,
nutritional flow of healthy resonant resolutional wealth,
celebrating Yang/Yin Golden EcoBalancing Rule
of Love/Synergy 
as co-arising Presence of mutual gratitude
for my Gift-It-Forward
ecologically evolutionary politically inclusive economy.

See, I knew we were sisters!
I mean,
how could the root nature of Time's Positive
equals Negative
climatic energy Shabbat
not continuously and confluently declare your BiGenderal
EcoConscientific Beauty!

Thanks. That means a lot,
especially right now
as we have arrived together
at such a critical moment.

OK, next question?

Well, perhaps I would add,
in defense of our timing
on this transgender balance of nature issue,
you do realize, I hope,
that millions of people
throughout Earth's ages
living within some level of transgender identity,
other than BusinessAsUsual missionary crusading hetero-anthro,
have understood "Queen Gaia of Shabbat"
quite deviantly from a Jewish concept
of a Queen Bee?
There are diverse nuances for "Queen"
which do not easily translate across dialects.

I can't tell you the number of times
we have looked in a lake or a river or a mirror
and imaged Queen Gaia in drag.
Imaging possibilities is how we recreate together,
usually within our own subcultural dialects.

Just as mutually therapeutic responsibility
is how we regenerate
as cooperative individuals
and as a species
and as this entire Shabbat Paradise-Potentiating Planet
of Earth's RNA/DNA ReGenerative Trees,
InFormating EcoMemory Rivers
dipolar rooting FireGod's transparent compost
of LoveLight to WinWin,
articulating (0)-centric 4D
endosymbiotically cellular
diastatically optimizing natural growth trends
toward just-right Yang/Yin balanced exchange atmosphere
for Queen Gaia of Shabbat
to rise and shine sustained.

You do realize that you can sign what you just said
a lot faster than all the redundant nuances of my language
can capture,
trying to mono-transculturate polycultural regeneration?
I'm having trouble keeping up with you.

Well, try slowing down
looking at trees,
contemplating their root systems,
noticing how under-standing revolves 
eco-normics of a political integritree.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

The Old Dark House

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

God's Return Ticket

God's Return Ticket

Did you ever wonder about the Almighty’s criteria or selection process for reincarnation of souls back on Earth? Just think some famous politician, movie star, sports figure,criminal, dictator, and so on could use “God’s Return Ticket” to appear once again on our earthly plane one day as another person in body and spirit. Yet, how would you react as a transient soul in God’s Kingdom if you found out that your return options would be perhaps as an elephant, a gorilla, a lion, a toad, a snake, a bird, a dog, a cat, a fish, a whale, a snail, an octopus, a flower, a tree, an insect or even some type of inanimate object. The possibilities when one thinks about these options could be practically unlimited!
Now that I’ve maybe captured or at least heightened your attention to this spiritual possibility (even if just for the sake of conversation), imagine for a moment in the reveries of your mind and imagination of what it might be like to return to Earth as one the following:

A Former Man as a Woman: This time around you might have a definite edge since you subconsciously know how men think.

A Former Dictator as a Peacemaker: Historical first-hand knowledge of having been a brutal leader may enhance your efforts in negotiating peace in the world. (One can only hope!)  

A Former Hobo as a Wealthy Person: You’ve got a man now who may be respectful of those who are less fortunate. Such a wealth person may become a budding philanthropist. 

A Former Criminal as a Man of God (priest/rabbi/minister): Well this would be a turn-around whereby a former criminal now has the advantage of being a Man of God and has a direct connection to what he perpetrated and experienced when he was on the other side of the law. This experience may make him a better priest, rabbi or minister in the end. 

An Elephant: A quite stately and wonderful mammal indeed whose presence certainly enhances the Animal-Mammal Kingdom on Earth. Elephants are vegetarians and by their nature are not a threat to anyone. Returning as one today could be problematic given the mindless decimation of their herds worldwide by merciless poachers and criminals who represent one of the most sadistic and despicable parts of the “human race” today. (Let us all hope these individuals go straight to “Hell” when they die one day for what they’re doing to our elephants!)

A Gorilla: This could be viewed as a step back from whence you came as a human being, that is, depending on your views and belief system concerning evolution. I would think though it would be better to come back as a Gorilla in the wild than being one in a zoo. At least you would have your freedom, but then the challenge to this would be doing your best to survive the many poachers who would be trying to capture or kill you and your Gorilla loved ones!

A Lion: This choice might not be so bad. Just think, you could return as the “King of the Jungle.” A word of caution is in order though: stay in the wild and avoid being captured and put in a zoo or your “King of the Jungle” days will be past tense.														
A Toad: Just think, you’d acquire the unusual ability to hop around on “all-fours,” eating your favorite insects, and making croaking sounds all through the night.

A Snake: These reptiles are scary and are probably not the first reincarnation of choice. The real question might be what type of snake would one come back as. Good Luck! 

A Bird: Coming back as a bird would give you a chance to switch over to a diet of worms and help you to develop and hone your skills chirping and whistling all day long. Enchanting!

A Dog: This could be an interesting return to the mortal world. The question would be what size and type of dog you would come back as, and would you be the “quite type” or a “barker.” At least you’ll be man’s best friend.

A Cat: Being reincarnated as a cat would make you very popular with cat lovers and just think—you may end up inheriting the complete gene set for the nine lives’ gift of regeneration. Not bad at all! 

A Fish: Returning as a fish may give you satisfaction in knowing that you are a vital part of the world’s food consumption. If you come back as a specialty fish this might not be the case. Beware of returning as a Piranha, unless you plan revenge on someone who wronged you in a previous life. But as a Piranha—you won’t have many friends.

A Whale: Returning as one of these majestic mammals might indeed be a quite fabulous experience. Size matters in this instance and commands respect, but beware of poachers—another courtesy of mankind—at its very worst.

A Snail: This existence back on planet Earth may not be the most pleasant for you’ll be subjected to possibly being eaten or squashed by an inattentive passerby. Your very slow self-mode of movement will be challenging too.

An Octopus: Imagine your ready mobility in the sea and the newfound extent of your manual dexterity as you move under the water. You could be the new found hit of the underwater sea party!

A Flower: This could a wonderful experience especially if you were to be a radiantly beautiful flower. You would be a welcome addition to the plant world and could be the focus of people who seek out your beauty or perhaps want to pick you as a symbol of love and emotions. Think Red Rose!

A Tree: Well a tree may give a reincarnated soul a chance at a much longer finite life on Earth before dying or being destroyed by man. At least one would have the satisfaction of knowing that their presence as a tree would help improve the carbon dioxide imbalance on our planet. 

An Insect: A lot of insects are really nasty, but if you can make it back as a Honey Bee or Butterfly that would be grand.

An Inanimate Object: Just think you could come back as a plain old rock or stone or a seashell.

Enjoy these possibilities! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – February 7, 2015

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

But Just Where Is God

(Musings of a poet with huge doubts and a fragile faith)

Introduction: Is God A Joke Or Human Vanity?

When close friends die and other’s thoughts are suicidal,
When mankind’s soup du jour is loneliness with anguish	
When mental illness, homelessness, more war, and child death
Swarm down and then attack us like a plague on Egypt,
Our tainted bread, a leavened loss, seems heaven’s judgment
And death the only path we see that seems to stop our pain.

When ministers rape children trusted to their keeping
When prideful Christians stand to mock that ‘men are brothers’
A joke if atheist, or black, but lie if foreign
When men of faith can hate both Catholics and Mormons
Deny as well that we are all our brother’s keepers
Our unwed pregnant daughters also miss protection.

As human politics and compromise are mortal sin now
No virtue left in give and take for either party,
And suddenly our finite views are God’s own wisdom
All other men with different takes on Bible’s leading
Are traitors, infidels, untouchables, satanic,
If you’re not me then you must be an earthly demon.
And am I wrong to think that God is missing somehow?
Or is it just our god who is exsanguinated
For human vanity seems now the modern flavor.
But even if the Bible is God’s truth unvarnished
How dare men claim their take on it is also faultless?
The blasphemy of this should leave the soulless cringing!

Is God then Friend or fiend? The question still is hanging!
Respect for Him obscene? Disgust His just deserving?
The judgment that awaits if we deny Christ’s coming
Is meant for human shame? Or is it there for saving?
Perhaps instead of blaming God for what life brings us
We’d profit more by working on the faults we proffered.

I. Consider: Where might God not be revealed!

I’d swear that God’s not in my parlor sipping Merlot,
And no, He’s not the tenor singing in my shower,
No burning bush or stone tablets, no writing over transom,
My house not chosen over yours because I live there,
My saint filled church less sinful than your congregation,
All human effort does not bring man God’s protection.

Injustice can’t survive his Grace or sin his Mercy,
And Sun can never set on any of God’s anger,
No evidence THAT church can pull upon His heart strings.
Do feelings have the power then to steal God from His children
Can hating God ensure you’re in a God free haven?
The things He’s not, not proof that He may not be present!

So what’s the logic linking God to man’s disasters?
Is 'free will' really such a black mark on creation?
If sin is ours alone how is it God is sullied?
Will you forgive yourself for harm you do in growing?
This God that you resist, His Heart tuned to your wavelength,
This parent that you’ve longed for, always has been loving.

II. Consider: Where might God be found!

What force could be so strong to steal Christ from His duties
Green pastures sure to mark the path with Shepherd leading
Cacophony of day cannot divert His focus.
The Shepherd loath to leave His flock if they’re in danger
Though He will not forget or leave the one that’s missing
All sheep accounted for before He sets His staff down.

The Psalmist also swears that ‘goodness and His mercy’
Are always Hallmarks of the house that God is found in,
So shouldn’t the reverse of this be God attractor
And God find rest where ‘goodness and His mercy’ flourish?
Grace pointed to by tables laden high with plenty
For even those who’ve pledged themselves to our destruction?

Then too, the Bible states that God is mankind’s suitor
His church to be Christ’s Bride (if God’s plan is not dreaming,)
His wooing us shows us Love, reveals the sacred pathways,
That guide us to our place in heaven’s verdant valleys
The wedding feast and guests, the wedding preparations,
The order of the hour in hallowed halls of heaven.

If God exists He certainly must be a part of
(Reflected without compromise in) His creation
(While holy in His eye, perhaps not more than twinkle.)
How is it then He promises His loving presence
Wherever in His name that two or more are gathered
Who seek to honor Him with works and with their praises.

III. Consider: What do we know of what He is like?

If God exists He must have been there from beginning,
And what men thought they knew, earth still, the stars revolving,
Were foibles of mere men, creation more demanding
Complexity makes newest findings too seem shaky
Reality may not exist (though models serve us!)
The truth that is revealed, the poetry of science.

A God that is complex is not new understanding
But Friend that finds us precious fires imagination
But what if our creation never was outside Him
With mankind really just existing in His daydreams?
If this were true and God were not enamored of  us
A simple nap might mean the end of all creation.

IV. So where then is He now!?

If poetry can bless the models science offers,
Perhaps I’m right to think that it serves spirit also,
Imagination holy at angelic level.
To seek God’s heart in man, a path that might be chosen,
Our God revealed in works where man has left no imprint
The mystery of God perplexes as it pleases.

Perhaps you will respond to other new perspectives
A metaphor perhaps would be a fish in water.
How can an immersed fish , who’s never been without it
Imagine, ever guess its impact on life’s workings
The water gives him life, his food, and air for breathing
Is God’s Love then like air for every man to swim in?

That every man will die cannot disprove God’s Loving
Indeed how can you prove that death can even happen?
And if we all have souls then has your death true meaning?
If spirit’s flight still soars, can life be more than dreaming?
If you are still with me, I give you final issue,
If soul cannot be preached, then death is equal fiction.

Brian Johnston
March 24, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |


Know Thyself
(one of the two Delphic commands of Apollo)

For years before the narrow windows of my senses
                                                                       I stood,
Trying to pierce the nebulous world of outer reality,
                                                                   Hoping to find GOD,
One year was following the other but I was: 
                                                                 Still wondering,
                                                                          Still inquiring,
                                                                               Still demanding.

I was lost in the tenebrous world of materiality’s
While the true essence of things, evasive 
                                                           As ever,
Persistently escaped the grasp of my confused

Unable to see behind the impenetrable veil
                                                             Of Isis,
And disappointed with reason’s constant 
My impatient voice towards the starry heavens I lifted,
                                                                   Asking aloud:

              Where are Thee, oh LORD?

For I have been seeking for Thee so many years now,
But I have found Thee not!

I have kept my eyes wide-open in order to see,
As many colors of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a moment have I shut them, 
For fear I missed Thy resplendent light,
But I saw Thee not!

I have kept my ears wide-open in order to hear
As many sounds of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a second have I covered them up
For fear I missed Thy sacred voice,
But I heard Thee not!

I have kept my hands extended in order to touch
As many things of Thy creation as possible
And not even for a minute have I held them back,
For fear I missed Thy spiritual touch
But I touched Thee not!

I have kept my nostrils wide-open in order to scent
As many perfumes of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an instant have I held my breath
For fear I missed Thy holy aroma
But I scent Thee not!

I have become a famed gourmet in order to taste
As many delicacies of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an hour have I withheld my appetite
For fear I missed Thy heavenly feast
But I tasted Thee not! 


Then, the thunderous voice of the Lord, 
Coming deep down from the twilight of time,
Tearing the eternal heavens apart
Answered me and said:

Dear innocent child of Mine; hasn’t time taught you,
That I am neither to be seen by eyes
Nor to be heard by ears?
That I am not to be touched by hands
Nor to be scent by nostrils?
That I am not to be tasted by palates
But I am only to be felt by enraptured hearts?

Trembling and puzzled, in a shaky timid voice,
                                                          I dared ask:

How could this be done, oh Lord?
For I am so weak and ignorant, I do not know
                                                               The way

And the compassionate voice of the Lord answered me
                                                                    And said:

Don’t call yourself weak and ignorant for
I have endowed you with power and knowledge
                                                                     So great,
You have only to unearth this incalculable treasure
Hidden deep down in your soul and you will be 
In touch with Me, with eternity, with the universal law,
With the light, with the truth and every single existence,
But first you have to listen carefully to what I command:

Close your eyes for they cannot see Me
And cover your ears for they cannot hear Me 

Pull back your hands for they cannot touch Me
And hold your breath for it cannot scent Me

Shut your mouth for it cannot taste me
And stand completely still in order for you 
To sense Me 

At once I rushed to Obey His divine command, so:

I closed my eyes and saw no more
And covered my ears and heard no more

I pull back my hands and touched no more
And held my breath and scent no more

I shut my mouth and tasted no more
And stood dead still for a moment,
                                  Just for a moment alone!


I felt His ethereal presence enveloping my heart
And I saw His celestial light caressing my mind
And I heard His heavenly voice calling to my spirit
And I touched His angelic essence with my elated thought
And I scent His seraphic aroma with my sacred, now, breath
And I tasted His rapturous divinity with my blissful soul. 

Then, immendiatly, the gates of revelation opened their 
                                                                               Passages wide
And in a magnificent lofty parade, in front of my soul’s 
                                                                               Dazzled eyes
The mysteries of life, one by one, were unveiled to the last
                                                                   Thus making everything known.

And now my enraptured self, jubilant before the eternal truth,
                                                                          In ecstasy exclaims:

Thank you, oh Lord for showing me Thy blessed Essence,
                                                      Thank Thee, for I know Thee now!

And the Lord enigmatically smiled at me and with His 
                                                           Divine thought tenderly declared: 

No my loving child, you only know YOURSELF!

                           © Demetrios Trifiatis

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2012

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Brahman Nemesis

                             Brahman Nemesis

          22 But to those who adore me with a pure oneness of soul, to those who are ever in harmony,
               I increase what they have and I give them what they have not.
          23 Even those who in faith worship other gods, because of their love they worship me,
               although not in the right way.
          24 For I accept every sacrifice, and I am their Lord supreme.
               But they know not my pure Being, and because of this they fall.

                                           THE BHAGAVAD GITA: 9, transl. Juan Mascaro (London:Penguins), 1962

               the puja  never ends 
                                 the sound of conche-shells rush up from starved caving lungs  the fire still burns ditheringly in tiered brass oil-lamps  the sanctum sanctorum still resounds to the same old Vedic mantras their walls pitch-tarred by centuries of sacrificial smoke  the naked granite Amman’s  torso and limbs sunk in massive mountainous pitchblack porous rock  bathed in milk and coconut-oil  jasmine petals  vibhuthi     the ritual never varied  nor the droned sanskrit rocambolesques phonemes learned by rote and remembered since a toddling three or four through chanting playfully all-day-long in unison within bare highstone-walls amidst the  making-of-faces to the bare-chested fair-complexioned eternal cousins in drawn-up and tucked-in dhotis their long-flowing gingerly-oiled sheetblack hair tied-up in a cone and sagging over the forehead   these the keepers of the « I » who wants and Oh needs worship

        You the Brahmins claim   picked from Your head Your chosen
                                   You who gave us the intelligence to question
                     Doubt and despite our conditioned voice our dissent
                  Now threaten us with holy fire the right path mistaken 
                                O Allah-uh-Akbar                        
                                O the King of Kings  
                                           Give us this day Your comforting bread

        now the days are almost over when Your chosen few strutted about Your smoke-and-incense-filled courtyard barechested lest their twice-born ethereal insignia misses the masses clanging bells yelling orders in mantric spells making as though You resided in them  nay  You were them they were You  their minds wrought by the belief that work was for the menial castes all untouchables all fools all filthy their breath impure  Your chosen children’s food pure  sanctified daily by Your inner eye  their genes their blood pouring from one tumbler into another and back into their veins like the hot tea drawn in an arc between arm-length held tumblers their vedas the only vedas  their language Your language  a prayer in any other language gets channelled to Your  if we are to believe them  sworn enemy the stoker of the fiery dungeons  

        there was a time  there were millenia  those who issued from Your arms thighs feet  and the néant below and beyond  all all untouchables of course  gave in sacrifice to You what was demanded by Your chosen lot  how you cared for your few ordained representatives on this infinitesimal speck in your sweeping vastnesses  
       but now the time is drawing to a close  the pujas the marriages the deaths the astrological charts net in hardly the sums needed to keep Your valiant few intact  their voice tremble now their chants in Your name growing meeker and meeker through commonlaw marriages  selflit pyres  computerized astro-charts  and prayers offered in Your name while speeding in petrol-driven carts
  who would you elect again as Your spokesmen
                     Whitehall  White House  the Kremlin  the Imperial Palace or the Elysée Palace
              who would speak for You
                                    represent You
                                        sing Your praises
                                            keep Your house in order here on earth
                                                and drive terror into those who would suspect a ruse

     now that the prideless old but still plump priest with six unmarried daughters begs with outstretched hand at the temple portals vying with the maimed untouchable in shredded trailing rags   his wide bright doleful eyes 
                    a telltale warning to your indifference  

               one to keep his pure-bred lasses within unpryable walls
               the other to keep hunger from shrivelling up his balls 
                                                                                           the ultimate sacrifice

1 the brahmin conducted mass in the sanctum sanctorum as the intermediary between Brahman (the God-Head) and the other castes, the latter paying for it in cash or in kind

2 the Hindu Goddess Parvati ; also a suffix to names of deities signifying malevolence.

3 powdered ash of cow-dung, used by Hindus on their forehead, arms and torso as an insignia of their religiosity.

From the sequence : « Words for a Lost Sub-Continent » in the privately published collection : longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris : 1999, 115p. ISBN 2-904428-14-3

May 24-25, 1997

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Fr Time Commentaries

A few words about my good friend, Fr. Time, perhaps over-invested 
in developing this language and these dialects of evolution.

Not to blame someone for doing too good a job,
but why shine so much light on ecosystemic deductive-languaged consciousness
of sciences and math and metaphysics? 

Please stop spiraling these teleological definitions of light's (0)-centric (O)rigin through PolyCultural full-octave of color ReBirth,  
Ta(0)Mega-Ec(o)Logical Soul of Fractal-Regenerative-Function,
deep dark rich ecological language-learning compost, 
including a little bicamerally balanced Interior-Exterior Landscape wisdom,
blending our Rightmind Owl-Recessive Medicine
with our LeftBody Moose Dominant Medicine.

Why not invest more in ego-identity 
as biosystemic light-positive-temporal-function reception,
stretching toward ecoconsciousness of EgoLeft Health
chronically dissonant with EcoRight dualdark diastatic (0)Warm/Cold-centric
EgoDeductive/EcoInductive Balance?

If you wanted to invest more in science and math,
why didn't you throw some culturally enriching light of evolution
toward important relationships for eco/ego therapeutic self through other care?
Why not talk more about what binomiality adds to monomial-metaphysical universal landscapes?
And how this reflects what your BiLaterality adds to linear information constraints
on a neural-normative assumption
that positive information about time's investment 
is equivalent to double-negative cognitive experience 
of neither past nor future light,
present now a dipolar/bipolar moment,
adds to prime relational (0)Riginal teleological
polycultural trending
UnFold-UnFold light as time
cogravitating dipolar balance.

Fr. Time, we have measured you with light,
do we measure Ego's lifetime values in light-bright outcomes
emerging from otherwise normal chronic stress
of dualdark pathologies?

And if human nature cannot measure our outcomes in healthy light
v. nondualdark pathology of anger-fear despair,
then why not,
as we do measure time's light invested
growing warm and cold regenerating
habits of spinning bilateral light,
as dipolar dual dark transparent,
then another moment,
surfing through diastatic memory light
of breathing light in
to breath gratitude dense-nutrient light out.

If religion's GodBrahmanAllahYHWHGreatMedicineSpirit
is also the scientists' deductive measure of Time
valued as bilateral dipolar CoPresent light,
with dualdark negentropic waves of octave color potential,
then are these three,
God and Time and Light
not some trinitarian form or structure,
or well rooted tree of ReGenerative Time as Light's
TransParent Beloved Community 
and dualdark CoPresent Compost,
balancing co-arising nutrients of light and time and health,
each Now's light through dark lifetime?

You realize, do you not,
that you do not bilaterally exist?
outside human natured identity,
mindbody memories 
include all time's regenerative investment wealth 
in light of now.

Where there's smoke there's fire
and where there's time there's emerging light,
and where Ego light-memory
then Eco-regenerating 
bicameral reiterating 
Ego/Eco perpetuating 
dipolar feedback,
Egolife of Time flowing and feeding on Ecolight of Time,
some greener, some darker, not too much transparent bright.

Breathe in light
exhale bicameral wisdom of time bilateral.
Breath in Fire of Time,
exhale bicameral smokey soul
of integral unitarian love,
synergetic health back toward (0) soul
balanced God of Time's BrightLight.

Life is your organic deep reiteration
light-dark balancing investment
in polyculturing Earth's robust future.

how could you steal time's echoing thunder?
Smoking Owl Medicine,
how could you cloud
Moose Medicine's dialects of deductive ecologic,
light/dark RNA/DNA memory streams
of warm/cold etched ecoconsciousness
of SunGod synthesizing-medicine 
as God's Light.

Your investment in light
grows deeper
where it is healthiest, richest,
most informed,
like a pine knot 
emerging from spreading waves of light-aptic understory,
like human nature spreading waves of light-fueled nature
across our industrially congested hyperstory
of deep ecology.

Time grows darkest where herstory is richest,
most fertile,
in comparison to transparent light
where she really hasn't much to add to diastatic dualdark transparent light-potential memory function,
grist of dreams in reverse greyscale,
decomposing DNA's time investment
in regenerating healthy light/dark midway 
cooperative co-mentoring relationships.

I doubt God would invest beyond the temporal limits
of Time's bilateral perfection,
firmly seated love of synergetic health
riding midway between anger-fear reverse
dualdark pathology.

Time is not reasonably reduced
to a landscape object of exterior worship
however ennobling this might be,
but rather calls us now
to unveil this interior light with dual-dark
as nutritional opportunity
through co-arising confluence of
both EgoInterior and EcoExterior
within as without
climatic cognitive-affective-neural
lightdark doing the best we can
to cooperatively stretch 
toward light's remembered diastasis.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Dorine R Spruill | Details |

Mommy Why

 Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on.  So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me  to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on  in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother.  The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
    Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial  she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother.  She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat.  I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
    I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met  more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
 After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole  family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.

Copyright © Dorine R Spruill | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Laura Loo | Details |

The Divine Messenger-Christmas With Christ poem Story contest

Christmas With Christ Poem/Story Contest
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst

Way before Jesus Christ was born, I was one of a chosen few,
to be a spiritual Being attending to God. 
I thought I was really nobody special, 
but He thought I was.
He thought I was a beautiful benevolent being,
Bright and celestial acting as a courier for Him 
between Heaven and earth.
See there are different types of angels, 
I happen to be the only "Divine Messenger". 
And there I stood in paradise, praising, 
dancing and singing with Him, 
The Almighty glowed with all colors of the rainbow, 
With prisms shining out of his hands,
with the maximum of whiteness,
Reflecting His loving arms. 
One evening He came to me and expressed
His deep passion for mankind, 
I noticed He was excited.
He said, "Soon there shall be a Man, made out of my blood, 
a living sacrifice of  My word and actions on earth. He shall be
the Savior of all people, and those who believe in Him shall see the Kingdom of Heaven." 
When I heard this news I stood there in awe. 
For the first time I saw God proclaiming that His
miracles would be performed by a man, His one true Son. 
After that, he took me aside and gave me a very 
special duty to perform. I was to be the messenger to proclaim to the world that born unto them would be a Savior. He said, "Shout to the world, Heaven and earth that a Son shall be born and 
He Shall be named Jesus Christ of Nazareth." 
I had strict directions from God. 
He told me to prepare myself for my significance was great. 
On the day of Christ's birth I was very busy. 
I had to gather all the other angels. 
The cherubs, archangels, celestial hierarchy's, 
the searph's and lastly the guardian Angels. 
I was His one and only Divine Messenger, 
and what an important duty I had to fulfill! 
All day I waited in anticipation of the night that would soon come,
The night our Lord was to be born unto the earth.
As I looked down and watched the sun slowly setting,
I knew it was almost time for me to fly below.
On my way down to Bethlehem,
I saw this star, so vivid the whole sky lit up and it radiated all 
Throughout the world. 
Following that star were three wise men
and I could see that they had many gifts for Jesus's mother and father, Mary and Joseph. 
They were riding on donkey's so slow,
but they wouldn't let that star out of their sight. 
When I arrived at the poor little manger, 
I saw Mary and Joseph almost where Christ was to be born.  
As they rode up I was pained to see how 
much anguish Mary was going through. For she was special. 
She was a virgin chosen to carry and deliver the one and only Son of God. 
My halo was radiating the brightest colors of white's
and yellow's, with a tiny hue of pink. 
For I was the angel created to watch and protect this crisp and magnificent Christmas night. 
I said, "I have a message from the Almighty Father, 
you two shall inherit the earth In thanksgiving for bringing
Jesus into this world. For because of you, all mankind Shall be saved and those who follow Him shall see the 
Glory of God and enter the Kingdom of Heaven." 
Mary just looked so exhausted and fatigued. 
I knew she had but one more push. And then there was one last cry in agony and there He was, Jesus Christ! 
I played my trumpet and violin in volumes so intense. 
All the pain, suffering and sacrifice was worth it. 
Shepherds starting walking up and bringing their 
flocks to witness the biggest Miracle that has ever 
been performed. Three wise men came up, knelt down while
bowing, bearing gifts of frankincense and myrrh.
I saw Joseph crying in joy and Mary smiling in amazement
 at what had taken Place. 
As she gazed down at her little boy she was overwhelmed with a feeling of wonder And admiration. 
She looked at her loyal husband and he kissed her on her forehead as if it was the First time he kissed her. 
I could just feel the glory in their hearts.
They have been waiting months for this day and it is finally here. 
I have never seen something more spiritually awoken than
The souls of those two Proud parents. 
Then we all looked up to the sky and that star 
shined brighter and emitted all colors of the rainbow.
I am an angel, and I have never seen something
so spectacular in all my time revering God. 
As the night carried on, more people from 
Bethlehem noticed the star of wonder And you 
should've seen all of them praising baby Jesus, 
the newborn King....
I've been up here a very long time, in fact for eternity, 
And I know in my heart nothing will ever compare. 
Although, I did hear a little rumor that Jesus Christ
is coming back to earth real Soon.
I can't wait until all His followers meet with me a
and we can all glorify Him in Heaven forever...
Merry Christmas everyone... 

Written: November 7, 2015

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

EcoPolitics of Time

Fr. Time is with us today, again, or still, I guess I should say.

No, you just did.  
That would be redundant, 
to say it again, 
like I just did.

Just a reminder of a contractual ground rule,
you have agreed not to sidetrack this interview topic.

What was the topic again?

I was just coming to that
before you interrupted my flow of thought.

I am your flow of thought and experience,
isn't it a bit untimely to accuse me of interrupting your flow?

You're doing it again. 
Remember, I ask the questions,
you bring regenerative responses
which we expect to be resolvingly
resonant with something resembling
empirically accessible truth.

Yes, that's what I do,
reiterative time flows ubiquitously,
in co-arising response
to any ridiculous thought you might care to think.

I have a headache.
When will Mother EarthSpace arrive?

She can't make it, doesn't have time.

I should have seen that coming.

Yes, it doesn't happen all the time.

Please stop.

I really don't think that's in your best interest
right now.

Moving on,
our question today:
Why does our evolution seem to play a game
of winners and losers
if your ubiquitous powers
intend to be cooperatively regenerative,
inviting polycultural, rather than monocultural,

This is a good question
but difficult.
The answer has to do with AnthroCentric distortion of Time.
ReGenerative Time's economy comes to each individual
as a promising gift
capable of universal co-empathic power
within the limits of sensual incarnation.
What you choose to do with that gift,
whether to hoard it competitively
or to empathically invest it with and in others
is for you to learn
to distinguish what is polyculturally therapeutic
rather than monoculturally toxic.

For example,
just as it is impossible to empathize with losers
without being able to comprehend through experience and feelings
what it means to suffer loss,
so too,
it is not possible to empathize with oppression and oppressors
without being able to comprehend
through one's own feelings and experience of time
why we sometimes choose to cause others to suffer loss
through our own neglect,
verbal abuse,
fears about our Ego's unmindful shortage of quality time,
and addictions to Ego's oppressive,
small-minded self-hatred
masking Right MindBody's timeless
regenerative eco-consciousness
of Earth Rights as Political and EcoNormic
CoOperative CoArising
EcoCultural ReGeNetwork Presence
of Time,
neither aversive nor attached
to any individual Ego,
but intentionally holonic of each Ego
as sacred face of Time's EcoPresence.

So, if I'm not feeling this
EcoCultural ReGeNetwork Presence
then my empathic capacity is not firing
on both bicameral pistons equally?

Yes, too much YangTime. 
Try Yin-Squared WinWin
in 4/4 equidimensionally timed octaves
of co-gravitating bilateral time frequencies,
for some fine-empathic tuning
on how each of us incarnates
both the co-messianic victim
and the somewhat more Publican Oppressor
of ReGenerative Therapeutic-Timed Polycultural Wealth.

Why do you imply
that God is EcoEmpathic CoArising Presence?

Because Presence has to do with Time,
just as this Present has to do with Space.
God is all created space
because EcoGod is BiLaterally CoArising Time,
ReGeneratively syntaxed within
BiCameral InFormation MindBody InCarnating
of and for all Earth's Tribes,
Bodhisattva EcoWarriors of Time's Full Wealth,
or such is your potential at birth, anyway.

EcoIntelligence of Time
evolves and revolves following this Prime Natural CoArising Principle
of Time's Tao 4-dimensionally balanced
Primal TransParenting CoElationship 
of Synaptic/DoubleBinding Negative-Aptic Temporal 
EcoFractalRhythmed Systems.

To be God
as to be human
invested in this divinehuman race,
is to Alpha and Omega
this PolyCulturing Temporal EcoSystem ReVolution
of EcoSacred Presence.

I need a moment.

That's all any of us ever have
and are
in our becoming race with CoBeing Time's surfing timeless

Do you really always have to have the last word?

Was that a rhetorical question?

Now, see, you're doing it again. 
Answering a question
with more questions.

Yes, that's what bicameral time does,
all day and night
on and on
generation after generation,
searching for this end of timeless God of Time's 
regenerating destination.

Honestly, I don't know how to summarize all that.

Just politically be
and economically become 
WinWin NOWTime
Gaming E-CoTherapists.

I really don't think I would have thought of that,
but now that you mention it.
Thank you, once again, 
for the generosity of your Time.

So delighted that you appreciate 
our co-operative networking value.


Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems