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Long Longing Poems | Long Longing Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |


                                               FIRST GLANCE EMBRACE


                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                               (His Story)

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                            tho' hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase

                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |

The Love-Hate Relationship

Instead of building your house on the sand,
You should build your house on a rock
I can hardly make out if you truly understand
That you are making it difficult for me to express my feelings to you...all you do is mock
Putting up with your eccentricities...hating the truth of what I'm feeling 
You're all around me and I can't refuse to not see've deceived me enough and now, my heart needs healing 
Don't blame me for your lack of have the ability to change that, but you treasure pleasure
Because all you're doing is feeding my frustration...that is in my nature 
Trying hard to stay rational 
But, I begin to lose control
Living this life with you in mind
I walked alone on the road of recover
Fear clouds my mind...I wish I could leave them all behind
I believe that I'm strong, brave and unlike any other
I'm sick of this mess of a love-hate relationship
That we've developed - we need to get a grip 
I bit the bullet for you...
Yet you live your life as if I haven't done anything for ungrateful and greedy you've become...who knew... 
The truth caves in in my mind of lost love
Bleeding out lies and leaving all regrets behind
The light will wash away the darkness from up above
True, darling, there's answers to all questions, but some are hard to find 
Haunted because of you're blinding me with your tainted hate and heartlessness 
Exhausted because you are way ahead of me...but I'm tracing the horizon with my fingers, hoping that you won't discourage my childlike happiness 
Living this life with you in mind 
I walked alone on the road of recovery
Fear clouds my mind...I wish I could leave them all behind
I believe that I'm strong, brave and unlike any other
I'm sick of the love-hate relationship
That we've developed - we need to get a grip 
I bit the bullet for you...
Yet you live your life as if I haven't done anything for ungrateful and greedy you've become...who knew... 
I claim my heart's buried love and it reassures me that hate won't take over 
Why are you on the edge all the time? Am I worth anything to you?
I'm coming undone all because you left me in my ruins and I have a heart to forgive you because I don't hold grudges that's for sure
Why did you keep me in the dark? Why won't you wake me up from this nightmare that you painted in my mind's eye out of mere revenge? How cruel of you and you have no clue what I have been through 
Living this life with you in mind 
I walked alone on the road of recover
Fear clouds my mind...I wish I could leave them all behind
I believe that I'm strong, brave and unlike any other
I'm sick of the love-hate relationship
That we've developed - we need to get a grip 
I bit the bullet for you...
Yet you live your life as if I haven't done anything for ungrateful and greedy you've become...who knew... 
We have a lot to learn these days
In remorse flames, I burn in many ways 
I am driven crazy by your stubborn actions
Our interactions...our affections...they have all turned to infections - seeing me suffer these pangs of rage makes you feel these satisfactions? 
You keep on playing your mind games (kindness is what you lack)
You were calling me awful names (behind my back)
And then you say that you love me 
I'm thinking of what to do endlessly
I thought you were different from the evilness I see everywhere
Now I see your true colors while you live without a care 
Don't forget what I've done for your sake
Do regret ripping apart what was beautiful between I know what it's like to have a heartache
You are a rock, but soon you'll reduce to sand
You are wishing upon me harm and I don't quite understand
Why all you do is mock
All you do is mock
All you do is mock
You walk away and vanish in the echo your "good riddance", leaving me to waste away
Are you in Faraway Land? All I do is hold up my fist, like the warrior that has accepted his fate of dismay 
Don't watch over me, fantasies that are all but sugarcoated lies
Don't throw me to and fro, for I'm not a toy to be manipulated with...I had enough with your hopeless cries
You're not listening ...
You're talking and hissing ...
All you do is mock...
Cease your mindless talk...
The photographs of both of us without a fear
Makes me think of the times I spent with you
You were the sunrise and I was the blue sky
Whatever happened to that? Did it disappear?
You made me smile, but now I frown because that's all I could do 
I miss the old you...
But the new you stole it away
I was sick with the love flu
The moments you made my day 
Don't mock me in my grieving process
Just because you can't relate to my distress
It will take a while 
To earn back my trust
I didn't run that extra mile 
Don't mock me or my hopes will turn to rust 
My heart might bust
My heart might bust 
I won't let love be reduced to dust 
Don't give in to your heart's foolish lust

Why did you build your house on the sand? 
Don't give up yet, start over, work hard and your efforts will not be unknown 
I'm glad that you are starting to understand 
It's a must to build my house on the rock, but I'm not doing it on my own
You tore down the walls
You haven't answered your calls 
But I'm willing to work things out without a hassle and mindless talk
Together, we will build and build and build until we have a castle on a rock
Paradise is close at hand because we took a stand 
Let's be friends again...finally, you get the picture of where our dreams land
Just make sure it's built on a rock instead of sand

Copyright © J. W. Earnings

Long poem by Stephen Barry | Details |

Reflections by Commodore John Barry

 “He fought often and once bled in the cause of freedom, but his habits of War did not lessen in him the peaceful virtues which adorn his private life.”  Doctor Benjamin Rush, signer of the Declaration

“In placing Barry at the head of the Navy I have special trust and confidence in [Commodore Barry’s] patriotism, valor, fidelity and abilities” President George Washington

Reflections by Commodore John Barry (1745-1803)
 It’s been a long voyage, this life. Me, son of a poor tenement farmer, now Father of the American Navy. I feel as though I have not unpacked my trunk since I first walked aboard Uncle Nickolas’ fishing skiff back at Ballysampson, County Wexford in ‘55. Searching like a young lad does for adventure, understanding, and lust. Wanting to escape oppression and to feel worthy and alive, I left my mossy island it disappeared with the tide.

It has been a little over a year straight now back here at Strawberry Hill. I believe it’s the first time I’ve seen all the seasons change consecutively since my youth. Father, he loved the earth but for me it would be the sea. The British kicked him off his land; they planted a seed in me. Cromwell watered that seed when, “by Hook or by Crook”, he massacred me countrymen, thousands: three. My enmity towards the British and oppression took root, grew wings.
‘Boutez En Avant’ our family motto ‘strike forward’ seemed not to be ignored. So off to sea I went under my father’s brother’s oar. Cabin boy, Able Seaman then Mate, what better place to feed my soul, then blanketed in mother oceans’ wave. I made my way to the new land, up the Delaware to Phil-idel-ph-ia. Easy to be a Catholic there and many ships come in and out every day. It’s there I realized that females would carry me through day to day; ships and wives and love letters to keep me on my way.

My first Merchantman Command the schooner Barbados, for a time, the West Indies my second home, nine runs on her, she ran steady, steady as a stone. “Big John” Barry they started calling me. I stood a full foot over most. The Patty and Polly a grand one tripper, the Industry, she a good sloop. The Page was quite a plumb for a Captain as young as I. Better still the Black Prince, I set speed records on her: 237 miles dead reckoning in 24 hours, if not in the blink of an eye.

Alas, the Black Prince was an omen as well, for soon the fight would come. I’d been waiting for the time to seize freedom and avenge my people from back home. The woman that drove my heart, my dear Mary Cleary breathed no more; in ’67 I was at sea when she arrived on heaven’s shore. When brother Patrick was lost at sea on a French frigate the limey’s sunk, my rage only grew. Feeding the old roots buried but now in death this marrow renewed. 

Saved from despair [by wife number two], Sarah Keen Austin, as Sally she was known. I had a home again and a dandy, steardy women to guide me, letters to see me through. Things happened quickly after the Prince it was war, and we needed a Continental Navy. “Get Big John Barry here, get him here immediately.”  I oversaw the rigging and reinforced the bulwarks. I secured the powder and the canvas, the hard tack and the jerky.

They gave me the first Captain’s Commission, a fantastic brig. I took this cruiser Lexington, so strong was she, in one hour I captured the Edward, loyal to the Queen. Then the command of the Effington sprung new up from the keel. While I watched her grow, they tried to bribe me but I spurned the eye-dee of being a traitor. Instead, I did some soldiering to pass the time while she was being built. I was handpicked to work for General George Washington what a privilege and honor I had felt.

As the British descended on Phil-idel-ph-ia I would have to scuttle the Effington to save her from red hands, leaving nothing for the picking, only splinters in the sand. I fought many a valiant battle with skiff and small boats, too. Ah, the Raleigh, she was a 32-gun frigate what a beauty; I had to scuttle her too, put fire to her on the rocks but I saved two-thirds of my crew.

It was the 36 gun Alliance in ‘82 that was my favorite lass. I took metal in my body in one grand battle but persisted as my blood ran, and the colors flew through the smoke and the crunching, through the fog and the mist. After I sunk the Atlanta and the Tresspassy I gave the captain back his sword, because he was and honorable man and my lessons from the Lord. By ’83 we had beat the red coats pretty darn well but I sheared off the Sybil for good measure and had the cook ring the ships bell.

Back to a Merchantman for a while and the Asia took me to Oriental lands but my country came a calling and me, always willing to lend a hand. From President Washington in ’97 I received Commission Number One and the 42 gun Frigate the [USS United States]. Keen, thought I-this is the one. We did many a mission in her; changed many a man’s fate.

Father of the America Navy, my contemporaries call me. Now I sit on Strawberry Hill, looking down on the port. I rake leaves for my daughter, my grandson, he’s a sport. I have more time now for my association, “Charitable Captains of Ships Club”. So many sailors lost in the war, their widows and orphans need the clothes, need the grub. I get called to teach the young cadets. I guess I’m father to them all. Boutez En Avant; persist, strike up an onward, good motto for one and all.

Copyright © Stephen Barry

Long poem by Alexis Y. | Details |


                                                      I'M RiGHT HERE

                                                      Don't let the world and 
                                                      its magnet pull you away. 
                                                      Because baby I'm here to
                                                      to stay. 
                                                      Fall if you must but fall to-
                                                      wards me. Let me be your
                                                      soft place to fall.
                                                      I hear you calling me and it's so
                                                      good to know that I'm needed.

                                                      Boy, I never left I'm right here
                                                      ready to whisper sweet l love
                                                      yous in your ear.

                                                      I hear you calling me and it's so
                                                      good to know that I'm needed.

                                                       I am your answer to love's
                                                       The answer lies in the center
                                                       of my heart.
                                                       Do you remember our first kiss?               
                                                       I fell for you that night, lt was pure
                                                        I hear you calling me and it's nice to
                                                        good to  know that I'm needed.
                                                        I'm right here laying on your chest
                                                        you had a bad dream, now hush my
                                                        love and get some rest.









Copyright © Alexis Y.

Long poem by betty njie | Details |

In my head

This is not a perfect story, its a feeling that i just want to share with you. I need HELP

The love i show to everyone in my surrounding, its just rediculous the way have trained myself to become or should i just say its my character thats how i am. I hate it when i cry for nothing, its just that i cant get it, do i have to be perfect to earn something in life. Am a good dancer, a good writer as well as a good person, but what have i earned in these living nothing absolutly nothig. Have plied myself to be thee who loves all and never attempt to hate any even thoes who have shown me hatred. Deep in me i feel the agony something somewhere in my daily living is not satisfied have allow my instincts to believe that its just the human strategy we are never satisfied and can never truly and pratically be satisfied, but in my case its a bit different. I miss love, looking at the whole situation properly i cant tell who loves me and who really hates me devastating anomly. The history of my life carries untold stories within its path, i dont even know who truly i am. One thing that am very sure of is that i am always there for thoes whom i feel am bound to be there for although i could be somewhere else. In tears i sometimes sit to ask why, why do i have to be these way. Am so mean to myself as the ones am so hardly trying to be a help of, at a moment i hate myself so much that i dont want to exsist anymore, i wish to be another somebody of somewhere. Just because i couldnt once make it right to the ones i feel bound to help. I am a lost soul screaming loud for attention at some point i can explode if i could, there is such much going on in my head i have issues that i want to talk about things that i just cant keep to myself. Thanks to writing i can state it down. This is a rapid that have ever since search to write about about but i  just could figure it out. I really cant tell weather my own mother loves to talk less of my dad or my boyfriend. My motto, never have up the fight for love, deep inside me am gone, empty and lost, but in my heart i know i can make things happen and watch myself work wonders i believe that. It might be hard to understand if you cant feel what am feeling in me but am completely lost. Do i even have talents? i dont know i have no idea, what i think is am just that loser that dont want to accept her destiny. There is nothing i repeat nothing in this world that cant be solved, my soul is longing for satisfaction love and nothing but the truth. The big thank you i always carry around in me goes to thee the almighty thee who created man from a thick clot of blood and gave hime life despite all what he know that would happen, who has given me the chance to live a life. Suddenly am starting to see life with a different eye than i normally used to as i am writing this,have just figured out life is me, i am my life its only me that can make myself feel just the right way i deserve to feel. Have made so many wrong dicisions, gone through so many hard ways that i could have actually safe myself from. Have given away my last penny to make another fellow feel happy and like me for thoes moments, have thrown my pride away to make a boy fall for my adventurious way, have hurt someones feeling to make another one like me, have done so many harm to myself and others. I just dont know where to head to sometimes i just feel like i should just kill myself and free my thoughts but then I always have this tiny voice in my head that always reminds me of Gods love and it works everytime, thats just what keeps me moving anytime i want to turn back. Have written a manuscript that carries living in it but its still in my laptop. At a certain point i thought putting down 28 pills in my tiny body could save by story, totally wrong thought am stronger than that.   SAVE MY STORY.

A Dream
What happens when you feel so lost, so devastated knowing that no one seems to be understanding your situation. When the whole world turns their backs on you, you feel empty, its a terrible feeling.

A Wish
Wanting to become a somebody to make a certain person in your life happy, a wish that appears not to becoming true, wanting to publish your first book at the age of 20 but you almost 20 and nothing.

Copyright © betty njie

Long poem by Darian Rehder | Details |

Love, Death, and Rebirth

The signs started in December
When she started waking up in tears each night
She was a normal girl with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes
She had plenty of friends and a loving family with just one thing missing
Her father. 

Days passed by and turned into weeks but only felt like a few seconds
Her life just whizzed by faster and faster until it was just a whirr in front of her eyes
Darkness filtered into her heart and mind until she didn't know if she could go on
But she had to. She couldn't let her mother and her sister drown in this same pain
She wouldn't let them.

She pushed all the darkness into the depths of her own heart
In hopes to save the hearts of the two people she had left
Because what else was there to live for now?
The rest of her world had crashed and her mother and sister was all that was left 
She wouldn't let them drown in pain too. 

She watched as they started to heal in her loving arms
Their hearts started to lighten up once more
But hers was just as dark as it was before 
And growing darker day by day 
But she wouldn't let that stop her. 

Suddenly a year had passed... and then two 
It only seemed like seconds to her but everyone else started moving on
Her mother and sister no longer needed her nurturing care
But she needed someone to hold on to

With nothing left for her to take control of, the dark pushed past her boundries 
It found a way into her soul
Until all she could see was dark and no light 
But her mother and sister were healed now
They didn't understand

The tears came back and engulfed her soul
Bit by bit until she wasn't sure why she was still alive
The grief took over like knives 
Piercing her skin over and over and over
It hurt so much.

She started to wonder what it'd look like to be dead
She could see him again if she was
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to endure this pain?
Wouldn't it be so much easier than having to live knowing she'd never see him again?
It would.

So she started to hate herself
All that negative energy was starting to take toll
Everyone around her was breathing while she suffocated more and more by the second
She wished she'd just choke already instead of living in constant pain
If no one would put her out of her misery, she'd have to do it herself

She couldn't see any light anymore
So she grabbed the pill bottle off the shelf and just hoped it wouldn't take long to die
Deep down she still had a spark of light, but she just couldn't find it 
And now it was too late in her mind to change, to turn back and try to look deeper
She was done living.

That's when people started to notice that everything wasn't as peaceful as it seemed
They started to see how deeply depressed she had become
They wanted to help her see the light again before it was too late 
So they sent her away to see doctors and to take pills to make everything better
It was a start.

She didn't see a change at first but suddenly she could think clearly
Maybe what they were doing was actually going to help her see the light again
Yes, she still wanted to die, but maybe that wasn't the only option anymore
They cared,  and behind all their own problems they were trying to understand
They really were trying

Six months longer she would be treated and cared for
Until suddenly she was sent home from her treatment and care with a smile on her face
She had a new perspective
Someone had helped her ignite that spark in her heart until it was a glowing ember
She had been reborn

Sometimes you have to be able to experience the worst of it
To come back shining brighter than before
And if she had died that cold day in October, she wouldn't of ever seen the best of it
Or known that it would get better
and it did!

And she now sits at her laptop, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart
It's never been an easy road and it won't ever be
But at least she knows she's lived through the worst
And it can only get better from here

So whenever she feels lonely or gets back into that dark spot again
She can look back on what she's learned and can read this poem
And remember that she survived the darkest depths of depression
And she will continue to survive it as long as she lives
Because she is stronger now than she ever was before ?

Copyright © Darian Rehder

Long poem by J. W. Earnings | Details |

Someone to Hold 5


Seriously, madly in love once more
What am I waiting for? What AM I waiting for? 
You ain't no bore and you're more exciting than a folklore 
You are my future in store
So what am I waiting for? Waiting for?
I am through with waiting for that open door

I'm no dirty little liar, burning in the devouring fire of deceptive desire 
I'm not the leader of that empire  
You treat me like I'm useless and weak
But I'm better than what you make me feel, pardon me, I'm bleak 
I seek to be worthy in your eyes, so please give me a second chance to enhance our relationship 
I need to probably let it be and get a grip 

I need to hold on to what I truly believe
I believe in logical thinking and it leads me to know the truth..
What a relief...I can breathe and no longer grieve 
I wish to relieve the pain...I know I'm part of your pain like an aching tooth 

Don't pull me out though
No doubt, I love you, you know...yeah, uhuh, you know 
You know where the wicked wind blow
Find me in the maze in which I graze
For, I was roaming aimlessly in your sugar-coated gaze
Oh-oh I mean, your sugar-sweet gaze

You're a beautiful baby to hold
You are a mystery, left untold
Let your wings of flight unfold
Hold me close, for I am cold 
You're a beautiful baby to hold
You are a mystery, left untold
Let your wings of flight unfold

Come back to haunt me
Are trapped in the cave, longing to flee
I, too, wanna be free
Do you want to be free with or without me?
Tell me without hesitation
Don't lie just to see my anticipation 
You're as sweet and luscious as berries
Your cheeks blush is just like a million of vermillion cherries 

To fast forward our tough times
Is around the corner, but our love is hot and priceless, unlike dimes 
We were lost and now, we're found
Above or below the ground
Don't frown upon us so, we will ask You to bestow blessings upon us as our relationship begins to grow
Together, we are all aglow
Regretless just fo-show
I dig your style of running the mile for a while 
You are not that paper that I leave in the file 
You are prized above all poetry I've written
I know, the evil fruit I've bitten, but I'm not totally smitten 
We are unforgotten and forgiven
We are not the rotten apples of the bunch...we are facing hardships again to test our faith towards God, not men

Hold me close, for Our Love might grow cold
Maybe, it might grow mold...ew...I don't want our love to grow old
I missed you...the one I hold
You missed me...the one you hold
Hold onto a friendship that won't grow cold and old 
It will just make us more bold and less afraid...enough to uphold
You're the bridge and I'm the river 
I'm the savior and you're the one to deliver 
Say a prayer with me...with you and me, God will hear and answer our prayer
Solitude has made our attitude of gratitude wear out
God will revive it once more, so leave no room for doubt 
God is calling me, hold your horses...
Oh wow! He has revealed to us His narrow route
God also diminishes the dark forces...
Thank you in advance
Now, what about you hold me and let's make our own bad romance?

You are the best of the best
I know I act like a brainless pest 
You are my all-time favorite fest 
Why don't you leave out all the rest?
I think it will be best to let you catch up with your rest
Let me hold on to you all night long...our fears are as far as the east to the west
Hold onto my heart before it brakes 
Sleep with me before darkness awakes
I cry when I can't hold you 
I smile when I get to hold you 
Our love is a homemade stew
It's scrumptious, leaving us without a clue
You knew how much I love you
Hold on to me and stick to me like glue
Dying of the luv flu
That silly little thing called luv flu is what I have when its just you and me
Everyone can see we
We don't mind much you see? If we did, we'd be considered crazy
It doesn't matter if you and I get all lazy
I don't care anyways
Hold's one of those yay days
We had our ways and our High Spirit strays

Copyright © J. W. Earnings

Long poem by Claudia Conaway | Details |

I Could Never Be the Rain

My life started with rain,
the steady stream of drops,
hitting the trees gently
and ending its descent to our world
on the wet pavement.
I am on the sidewalk, 
sheltered by a makeshift roof and 
a border of trees.
The cars beyond me toss the tears of the sky
off themselves, the wheels swerve and then steady.

Then a bell chimes,
crisp and song-like,
first slow and steady rhythms,
then a playful tune to celebrate the rain’s arrival.
The rain, the bells-
one does not cancel the other out, but rather coincide with the other.
A perfect harmony that the human heart will never experience but only watch.

Sweet, sweet cinnamon in a soy satin river,
frothy and smooth- it warms my lips before finding solace
in my esophagus.
The rain is cold, the coffee is hot, my breath belongs to the rain.

Am I an alien, unwelcome to the rain’s domain? 
The rain is a cool drink to the plants, to the trees
but it is a nuisance to us,
it is a plaything for us-
we hide from it and splash in it, pretend it falls just for us,
and ignore the cries of it's true child - nature.
We laugh at nature with booming, passionate voices
and we trample its peace.
rain is nature’s drink of life.
we cannot stop the rain, but the rain will always stop us.

I sit here and write these words and hear those bells and taste the cinnamon dew
and I am human.
My insatiable human lips will never feel the peace of grass drinking its morning brew,
but I do find myself here, feeling all the shades of blue the sky has ever been,
and I am falling in love with the rain.
We humans always do that. Love is our prize choice of dagger.
So we are in love with the rain and we ask:
When will the rain love me back?
When will it fall just for me?
So the rain falls 
and the grass grows
and our bellies grow crude
but we still ask for more more more
and the rain asks for nothing.
It sends its blossoms and petals down to us,
it pumps the blood into our veins,
onto our vines,
and then, it is silent.
It asks for nothing, but I wonder
does It want me to look
or to look away?
Does the rain want me to notice it and to love it in the unrequited way I always do
or does the rain want me to let it be?
Does it think me a monster, an alien
like I think of my skin to me?

I believe that the rain wants not,
asks not,
begs not,

and in that, I could never be the rain.

now I am inside, hidden from the rain
like a child in the womb, momentarily blind
and deaf to the pain that makes the world real.
That trickle of raindrops is now a 
heavy, consistent, foreboding heat of voices-
human voices that sound like mine and that don’t sound like mine,
all invading the stream of consciousness that the rain gave birth to.
In here, I cannot breathe, I cannot think-
I am being coerced into the suffocating fire of voices, all playing with emotions but devoid of them.
The rain is the eye 
and the shelter is the mouth,
always talking but never seeing.
The hell of human condition does not end like the rain,
we ask for more and more and more, 
more than God himself thinks is best for us.

This is the human condition- a fire that desperately wants to touch the rain-
we are put out by our own choice.

But oh! The pleasure of that human voice!
The longing moans of our anguish,
the desperation in our cries of please please love me!
Every single word and every single wall we build
to keep the rain out
is saying please please break in,
love me like I love the rain,
love me like I’m scared to,
because I am terrified of love and 
I am void of you.
I have always been alone,
and I let the rain wash you away,
and now I am a rock-
like the songwriters say.
But the rock never speaks to the rain
it never says please please love me

and in that, I can never be the rock

because I love the rain and I love the touch of human distraction,
like veins bursting out from the skin
I am human and always will be,  
I wish the rain was desperate like me
and I wish the rock would beg for me.

Copyright © Claudia Conaway

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Dearest Ego Cooperative

When Oliver dropped out of high school, after his sophomore year, he went to UConn. We never understood why, other than the obvious, that the main campus was our back yard, and he didn't like to drive, or use toilets outside our home.

He thought the whole academic degree industry was suspiciously rooted in Win-Lose Game Theory assumptions, which didn't necessarily have to be true if we would all just wake up some morning and decide to go with Win-Win instead. Even so, he sailed through his GED exams and then spent over a year deciding whether to take some classes at UConn, or just continue writing prose and lyrics and gaming on-line with his intercontinental team, with a representative from each populated continent except Africa--an exception that he found not just irritating but actually embarrassing.

About the time he was deciding not to go back for his junior year, Oliver shared his "Dear Ego" letter with me. We were both surprised, I think, because he almost never wanted me to read his work, or play, as he preferred to think of it. But, this one he correctly thought I would find helpful:

Dear Ego

Please notice that "evil" is not only "live" spelled backwards, 
but it also is backward, 
or the reverse of, 
healthy living.

You do your evil, not-live, acts to test me, 
to learn justice, 
when you are wise enough to listen to our eco-logical response.

You evil out of ignoring y/our larger interdependent identity, 
to discover your individual and collective responsibilities, 
potential integrity, 
how and when and whom both live and not-live choices coalesce
and differentiate

Evil is about what and whom we don't do and become 
that we could do, 
we could become, 
with sufficient power, 
individually and collectively.

You do not do evil to learn the causes and effects of generosity, 
to uncover our individual v. collective accountability for gratitude, 
for mutual health-wealth redemption.

You both do and do not evil 
to mutually mentor fair balance of redemptive generosity, 
giving care, 
to evolve Us, 
your SuperEco Co-Intelligence, 
to proactively practice peaceful resolutions, 
love's fully inclusive resonance through time's healing, 
synergy's revolution.

You and I deliver this not-live evil 
of climatic competitive transactions, 
to spring loose love's cooperative Boddhisatva Occupation 
of Earth's eco-logically harmonious co-arising habitat.

Namaste my Beloved Sub-Climaxing Community.

Your Left-Hand Dominant Right Brain,

SuperEco Elder

I don't know if this was a suicide note, or why I found this copy in front of his cold not-living, but still generously beautiful, body. It's not even clear to me that Oliver's death was a suicide, at least not as we usually understand this violence and sadness and despair against one's future.

The medical examiner said he had never seen anything like it, although he had read an account of a chronically depressed dolphin living in captivity, who signed farewell to a favorite caregiver and then simply stopped inhaling air. Apparently that's what Oliver did, or chose to not do anymore.

I miss Oliver's deep beauty, his humor, brilliant integrity, even his profound sadness about our climatic disarray, our chronic insufficiency of loving the cooperative juice of eco-logical health flowing through his veins and neural system.

How I wish that I could redeem his not-live lack of healthy loving environment enough to persuade him to take in one more breath. But, Oliver was always like that. Not confidant that he deserved to breathe the polluted air he inherited from me, from us, from our choices. 

I wish we had planted trees together. It was lonely planting that weeping willow in the ashes of his cooperative evil choice.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Practicing Positive Psychology

Today we hear Positive Psychology is hot.
To not agree is to be both negative,
and a snot;
too cognitively dissonant
and dino-snore-a-lot.

When your loved one tells you,
for the thousandth time,
"You never listen to me"
you have been invited to a challenge
of double-binding negativity.

You will not find it helpful to respond
that you often listen,
quietly disagree,
and proceed along your positive intended way.

Your family bond will not grow ripe with healthy wealth
by responding
"I hear, listen, consider your dissonant perspective,
and find it unpersuasive that I should change
to join your comparative insanity."

How much simpler all these positivist 'ologys,
logic and its logos mythic roots, would be,
if Einstein's Theory of Relativity
had been called something more operatic,
like "PolyTheorem of Relationality."

How many deeper roots would feed Positive Psychology
if we could understand Positive functions
of Cognitive Dissonance,
if we could find Full-Live MetaSystem
surrounding Half-eviL Reverse-Temporal-DecaySystem,
learn contention knocking on contentment's door of awareness,
learn longing's silent scream for belonging bicamerally balanced.

We listen with our Cognitively Dissonating Deductive Left,
but we health-hear with our Positive Self/Other Inductivizing Right.

Sanity begins where insanity leaves off.
Rational minds work to retain coincidental confluence,
bi-reiteratively multisystemic Relational Balance.

Dr. Jaynes' bicameral balance
meets Mr. Bucky's polypathic Universal Intelligence,
Synergetics translated into relational self/other integration.

Co-arising coherency of Right-Left self-consciousness
embraces cognitive/affective dissonance for deductive purposes,
while cognitive/affective Right-brain confluence
conjoins Positive Psychology with Positive Deviance Theory
to sum our squares and Fullerian cube roots and forming systems,
Zero-Sum ecological Win-Win therapeutic harmony,
economic equivalent gift-it-forward life transactions
of nutrient healthy wealth 
of superconsciousness.

EcoTherapy is Positive Psychology's mutual mentoring praxis
of Permaculture Design,
with intent toward Climax Beloved Community optimization,
sustainable for at least Seven Generations of Earth's DNA/RNA life.

ReGenerating revolutionary recycling systems
articulate Universal Intelligence 
of Bicameral DNA/RNA temporally unfolding fractal-harmonic syntax.

including humane nature,
information, evolves DNA, thus Elder RNA-rooted, code
as Prime Perennial-Fractal,
the four seasons of Alpha-Omega Point reasons.

Elder Right temporal brain function
reaches back to RNA's static/synaptic 
chronic/critical ecological paradigm of consciousness,
deep coincidental learning,
co-arising ecological paradigms of intelligence,
stimulus-response as before-after gestalt dynamic
positively induced development,
health as wealth,
synergetic integrity of thermodynamic balance,
permacultured design and resolution
of growth and development cycles
and recycles
evolving Beloved,
out of cognitively dissonant "still-not-colistening",
Communities and Guilds.

All this wealth of information
hiding inside the Emperor's outside-in-visible deductive clothes,
turning inside-out and upside-down
toward co-balancing integrity,
deferred mutually subordinate dominance,
of Left-Yang's deductive power
conjoining Right-DoubleYin's inductive flow,
co-arising Positive/Negative confluent/double-dissonant

"Yes dear, I am listening
both to you and to my self,
still learning how we can both win
love's game of positively cooperative life."

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long Poems