EXOTIC FIGURES-:-
original
archetypes
inspire
expressive
discoveries
striving to PROCLAIM
sheer
simple
startling
lyrical
feelings
through UNFAMILIAR FORM
unprepossing
precarious
insignificance
emphasising
individuality
FIGURATIVE FIGURES-:-
striving
tracking
desired
literary
archetypes
in TUNE WITH
dreamed
longings
desires
delving
questions
of ALL HUMAN
naivety
graceful
exquisite
individually
known
Hunger not satisfied, materialism fried
unending search in depths, philosophies sketched
Psyche gardened terrain, sovereignty a sweet cane
ancient cultures in cells, memory can be hell
indigenous wisdoms, all achetypes are prisms
suffering is fresh springs, inner calm it duly brings
knowing that all storms pass, grounding ascension class
when planet leaps the cusp, old souls jump in trust thrust
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You and I together realize just why
We have to give love a much better try.
We shall never let this love of ours die,
Unlike them who always made me cry.
You and I will sooner or later realize
I can become a pianist, like my grandmother.
You are the guitarist, like my grandfather,
One day we'll make music people idealize.
You and I will eventually share a home.
You'll cook for me, like my other grandfather.
I am your wife, like my other grandmother.
I'll clean and I'll even go wherever you roam.
You and I were always meant to meet.
Your heart is safe in my hands and with me.
You don't got to question what I clearly see.
Life is not something for you alone to defeat.
A timeless tale told in so many ways,
it’s archetypes such precious cargo.
Pop culture blew up a catchphrase.
The boy on a horse navigates a maze,
for the kingdom’s princess of long ago.
A timeless tale told in so many ways.
Red carpet of fire started the craze
on a silver screen with that sleek logo,
pop culture blew up a catchphrase.
Once in a while a myth will amaze
turning into the year’s hottest show.
A timeless tale told in so many ways.
Receiving it’s fair share of praise
causes a phenomenon to overflow.
Pop culture blew up a catchphrase.
From mouth to mouth it’s set ablaze
I carry the light of faraway stars aglow.
A timeless tale told in so many ways,
pop culture blew up a catchphrase.
Something caught between the eyes of fellowship and the riddle of thought makes any setting unforeseeable. Yet, within the mannerisms of those declawed by the very societies they themselves conceived armed only with a utility belt of miraculous misconceptions springs forth exponential, autonomous growth, promised by the ancestors of preconceived notions.
Most often, the spirits of ideas formed upon the fragile spine of inadequate frequencies press us all into a reliable destination, one mastered only through performances of unseen archetypes, driving this windowless vehicle we insist on calling time.
My augmented delusions, I admit, disassociate from the fermentation of your reasoning, and so taint our deductive search for the emotions we struggle to preserve. The tropes of an enigma’s fragrance intoxicate the cerebral moments of free thought, undermining even the simplest reproductive solutions for advancing communication.
And so, as I tear this parchment, I summon an opportunity. Yet what a cumbersome opportunity it is.
THE DOORMAN
He announced himself
as doorman pulling
veils of vortices
archetypes tumbled out
there was Einstein and
St Theresa even Blake
and Stalin
Floating like elementals
with elevated subtlety
he blessed them all as
enticing experiences
Excited he widened
a door to expose
emissaries stamping
time and space
Monroe curled
statuesque legs
around his waist
wobbly, said she
only resonated with
his doormanship
Then throated her
red lipped lust
with vapour dust
He closed the
door
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2024
Okay, boomers, doing great,
We know it's never too late,
Rules can be bent, you see,
Rules shape society,
Archetypes we designed,
Thought control, never mind,
Divine love transcends all rules,
Despite what's taught in schools,
Fragments, these rules of men,
Specks in the universal zen,
Our souls light up to pray,
Okay, boomers, doing okay!
Old Glory
Updated Story
Banner Still Waves Free
Stars 'n Stripes
Archetypes ~
Eisenhower, Reagan, Niki Haley
A tangerine moon glides across the sky;
I am enamored, of its beauty.
Twilight expires and gives way to dreamtime enchantments.
A color swirl opens the door;
behind it lay monsters.
Faces shape shifting into familiar friends,
are more than archetypes;
they are swimmers in unconscious waters.
The etheric ocean holds many secrets,
possessing great wisdom;
both a deadly and holy place;
here we all must come.
The mortal, is a perpetually swinging
pendulum with no course.
The soul is a traveler of realms unseen by mortal eyes;
a journeyman; his life gathers much to live by;
success is all around us.
Mortality is a soul’s prison;
it’s up to everyone to parole themselves.
In freedom, we grow; we help others grow.
The temple is within;
the library is free;
never closing its doors.
To grow and progress a soul has no choice,
but to read, each night.
When Mother Moon sleeps,
she brings new miracles into the coming nights;
how I do love to sleep.
3-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Mar 28) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
otherwise called book of wisdom
with its teachings and archetypes
laws and lessons as relevant today
as they were hundreds of years ago
history repeating itself
human nature being what it is
the mysteries of mankind’s experience unveiled
come to light in a cycle of repeated patterns
by candlelight the epochs blurred
here hovers an air of timelessness
in a rite of fire and intent
tarot cards neutralized and purified
wafts of frankincense roam the air
with much reverence my hands reaching
in a moment of silence and bonding
i invite the cards to imbibe my energy
the ritual of unwrapping their silk shield
while wafts of sage continue to disperse
revealing archaic symbols etched
adorning twenty-one major arcana
a hopeful silence for secrets divulged
in soothing stillness the old soul listens
shedding universal light on both past and future
mostly to understand ours and human nature
AP: 2nd place 2026, 2nd place 2023, 3rd place 2020
Defunctive decadent dreams upon desert Dunes,
Where your love drifts to dust within sandy storms…
The dry devious air assimilates amorous dusty debris,
entombing maleficent mirages.
My breath betrayed by stimulated sinister sins,
Illusive illusions adorn the gated Gardens of Eden…
Rhetorical replicas reflect from your slaving smile.
machiavellian mirrors magistrate.
Forged in fires of facsimile you rise like the Phoenix,
Effigy of a carbon copy of deceptive deliverance…
A petulant puppet master of megalomania madness,
archetypes of amour ambushed.
A portrait of love through a passionate photograph,
Suspended within parallel paradoxes of surrender...
Your love keeps me captured amongst tenacious time,
spurious memories marauding.
June.08.2020
4 Sapphic Stanzas
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
N/A for contest
We are born and born
and born again…
there is no death outside
the human fiction;
We write our destiny…
in letters of flesh and
blood--nourished by
the Spirit Immortal,
Our prayers are incantations
reaching into the infinite
to excite and extract
the archetypes of all
that is, and all that can
become—drawing from the
living realm of breathing
possibilities--
We are more than we
can imagine—and never less
than the image our God
and creator….
Ephemera hung from the philosopher’s stoned mind
A plethora of rubies dangled at the heart of suspense
Diaphanous souls mingled at crossroads of thought
Seeping miasma and fragrance cutting diamond’s edge
Archetypes flowing at the rubicon of incisive return
16th February 2020
I chose the words in bold for no reason other than they came to my mind. Let me
call it stream of consciousness, or poetry in motion ...
In an incandescent wood luminous poppies offer
guidance to travelers; tree limbs dance in
syncopation to universal rhythms.
Fireflies shed their phosphorescence
among the flora.
I walk here in radiant beams of enlightenment.
Gathering gemstones; dream time baubles
of esoterica for I am first, a spirit.
Hearts of lavender and rubies
sing out their wisdom in archetypes
of eternity’s cultivation.
I secret it all away in my backpack
and return with a smile to mortal reality.
I have heard the voice of the flowers,
smelled the sweet scent of the Universe
and danced to the refrains of cosmic elation.
Inspiration comes from unnamed realms
and rests upon the ethers...
grasp your share.
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