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James Lockaby Poem
The sun shines in a friendly glow while the birds sing mating songs, searching for
that lost bond of intimate natural longing. Greenery illuminates the path through the
garden, colorfully decorating the atmosphere with contentment. Leaves drift
beatifically to their resting place in the aura of serenity; wisdom in the blossoms
wherein dastardly royalty is usurped by inane benevolence. Such generosity cannot
freely bandy about when originated from petulant systems of feigned philanthropy.
Evidence mystifies the instituted kindness with otherworldly martyrdom prevailing
over dynamically advantageous disproportion. A youthful sprite exudes sage
harmony that listens intently to ruminated introversion and callously disregards
obnoxious outburst. A twig snaps into seventy equivalent sections; equilibrium
begets solitude among the predetermined assortment. Begin again and sweetly
profound anew. Did it start? Nevermore, with the exception of a shift in the concept
of causality's influence: kleptomania for knowledge and acceptance of besmirched
spirits. Souls pine for an existential seed to spurt roots and permeate the dirty
confinement. Cyclical imperfection trudges through sludge, almost cinematic in its
unveiling. It is astounding in each fresh, yet repitious succession. A song skips lyrical
lust and jumps to instumental amelioration: The symphonic glory of all
encompassing, magnificent, eternal, ascending powerfully and synthetically
descending, original, cooperative, and unorthodox love.
Copyright © James Lockaby | Year Posted 2011
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James Lockaby Poem
The Shamans gather to discuss the oblivious reason
Dispel cruelty as fate opens for our unorthodox legion
Conformity’s blue armies will try to trap you and me in
Destroy notions preconceived, let the celebration begin
The mind is confused on what info it should reject
It is lost when it sees truth it cannot possibly accept
Parallel to common belief, pompous power is not Respect
I have invisible plans the materialists cannot ever detect
A different death, of new hope
Soaring as Shamans cut the rope
…but some won’t
It is normal to be abnormal
Self discovery is not formal
…but love is not either
Lamenting and hoping soliloquy
This is the way it was supposed to be
…but it is
Patience in expediting time
Supposed to waste away for a dime
…but I won’t
Smooth, silky opaque clouds
I have seen though the shadowed shrouds
…but I will still depart with the Shamans
The Spirit Realm
Lost in inevitable time
Drifting through superfluous mind
Coasting on sporadic rhymes
Losing grip on human kind
Searching in jungles of lies
Venom vines cannot unwind
Oxygen floats in pink skies
Wiggling under ties that bind
Worldly thought in powerfully small significant action
In the end, there are no nations and there is no faction
There is only the physical, mental, and spiritual reaction
Contently acquiesce to predetermination’s satisfaction
The pelicans told me how to dance on water
Mother’s dying nature from a materialistic daughter
Patriarchs are nonexistent in the time of our Father
Unwritten governing connections from unknown author
They eternalized eternity in what they wrote
The variables of grounded state and Shamans who float
The differences between independent thought and rote
Hidden is Peace in this experimental Earth piece
Except in the internally spiritual enlightened keys
Existence in the persistence of beginnings and endings
Continuous coincidence shows we are not alone fending
Disruptive objectives exemplify perceived reality is bending
Only you choose spiritual contentment in moments you’re spending
I quest to become a Great Shaman of Spirituality
Gather my children and listen to the winds of actuality
Optimistic spirits show how to make a boorish world sublime
The gradual success journeys through our mystics in beautific time
Obliterate the materialistic, conformist cause of hesitant follow through
Us and the Shamans will do everything; it is of yet if this includes you
Copyright © James Lockaby | Year Posted 2011
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James Lockaby Poem
Glimpses into the future:
A confusing mist clouds the conscious
Wishing for clarity
But receiving only blank stares of cruel misguiding
Signs
Soulless shrouds made from memories remind
Me of how to forget regret and
Remember occurrences of importance from
Mindful events happening out of
Chronological order
Ghosts from the past haunt the future
Because superfluous audacities result in my
Anxious proclivities
A newer reflection of mirrored reactions result from
Actions undone and committed
Longstanding traditions obliterated in favor of
Bold conquests
Time traveling thoughts bring uncertainty to an
Already troubled mind
Revelations seclude me in the isle of exiled genius
A beauteous punishment for a once
Silent persona of strange
Ideals
Spirits goad, burst from a reclusive shell
Of apathetic spirits’
Generalities
Of the future look to we for new hope
I cannot fail
Copyright © James Lockaby | Year Posted 2011
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James Lockaby Poem
Lilac drips emboss the outstretched plains
Whilst the aquatic festoonery resurfaces
Permanently
The Expanse is Extraordinary
But it is all so ordinary, in its distance spanned
Repeated
But it is so glorious, the defeat that refused a compromise
And found itself in the inglorious moratorium,
clawing, drawing closer
To the Expanse, in Extraordinary enduring hostile pity
To find the clawing was for not
If the water flows regardless
Copyright © James Lockaby | Year Posted 2011
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