Best Cataloged Poems
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There you go you have been identified
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You have been marked
Branded, tracked, and electronically lo-jacked
Forever part of the system
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Cataloged, tethered, and bound by a digital rope
0's and 1's
Forever lost digitally
And reasonably beyond hope
A sequence of numbers
To be put in a human catalogue
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To be accessed, reviewed, and assessed
Through the cyber fog
You are a number, not a name
You are part of the inventory
Of the cold hearted insane
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Welcome to the warehouse we call earth
We want your presence, we crave your birth
Another soul to feed the beast
Another set of digits to add to the feast
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No need to worry because you are free
Just never be late when you pay me
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9 little numbers to keep you straight
9 little ways to control your fate
Think of this when you obey
Live with this day by day
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It is the freedom
For which you pay
Log in, sign on, and punch the clock
My obedient tax paying flock
For the masses and your little number
You have been introduced
To the greed driven financial slumber
Welcome !
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Eric (and sometimes not)
Within the bounds of heaven is a mighty sea.
It has no boundaries.
It goes on for infinity.
Its crystalline surface is like a million tiny mirrors looking back at me.
Enraptured by this fairy tale like body of water and its properties.
Its chemistry cannot be cataloged.
Its elements are unforeseen anywhere else in the entire galaxy.
It is a pure and holy extension of the waters of the throne room of Jehovah.
Its gates are opened every once in a million years to cleanse the earth.
The waves of this sea brings a calm to me.
Like the mighty rushing waters in the heart of my King!
Cascading currents of peace.
Peace and calm.
Calm and peace.
Rhythmic waves that dance and carry healing to all those who seek it through the King.
Come to the waters of Mighty Jehovah.
Come to the waters and splash and sing!
Sing praises to the King of the Universe!
To the King of Everything!
Come and Sing at the edge of the Crystal sea!
Gwendolen Rix
2-21-15
Nobody Likes A Know-It-All
(Or ... I Know What I Know)
(Prov. 1: 29* / Prov. 1: 22-33 / John 15: 19 / Matt. 7: 3-6 / Prov. 3: 7 / Prov. 9: 7, 8)
Nobody Likes A Know-It-All
They Either Get On Your Nerves
Or Make You Climb Up The Wall
They Come On Like Squalls
Their Opinions Sprawled
We Shake 'Em Off Like Tattered Shawls
... Nobody Likes A Know-It-All
So, If I Happen ... Across Your River To Row
I Don't Mean To Come Sounding Like An Old Crow
Or Waste Your Time If You Say No ...
But Listen ... I Know What I Know ...
I've Read & Studied & Meditated
Perused & Pondered & Got Educated
In Reason & Rhyme - I've Ruminated
My Thoughts Into Rooms Are Relegated
Raised Questions & Quizzed & Investigated
(Even Made Some Folks Uneasy & Agitated)
but GOD Said That 'That' Knowledge Would Be Hated
(John 7: 7 / John 17: 14 / John 15: 17-20)
So With All Due Respect -- So and So ...
... I Know What I Know
... of Innocence & Intelligence
Ratified Ideas & Reference
Cataloged Diligence & Resilience
Always Bravo'd The Beauty of High Brilliance
In Conventions' & Congregations' Confidence
& Assemblies & Achievements' Evidence
In Citadels of Archives' Residence
In Colleges & Scholars' Licensed Competence
In Trust's of A Counselor's Expert Guidance
and In The Word of GOD's Reverence
With Lessons' Continuance' Vigilance
In Meaning of Life & Purpose & Spirit's Significance
and Carpe' Diem When Possible and Patience ...
So, That Even In Philosophy's Status-Quo ...
... I Know What I Know
... From Countless Hours - In Half A Century of Years
In Conversations From A Constellation of Peers
About Life & Death & Future & Fears
About Love & Passion & Lust & Leers
About Laughter & Joy & Pain & Tears ...
About Mercy & Justice & Truth So Clear
About Fame & Fortune & What's More Dear
About War & Peace As World Totters & Veers
About Freedom As Kingdom of GOD Draws Near
About Why We Cheer & While Others Jeer...
(Part 2 of 4)
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/20/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
(Part 2 of "Nobody Likes A Know-It-All" is the serious side of addressing "Knowledge ... ... So, this free verse is really about Godly Knowledge, Biblical Learning and Spiritual Intelligence ... (first) ... and then about education and different areas of study in an academic way. So when reading this write - that should be kept in mind, to get the most out of it ... MoonBee
Humanity is comprised of people of varying skin shades,
white, black, red, brown, olive, and yellow, to name a few.
And amongst every skin color, there are intelligent, stupid,
honest, deceitful, friendly, hateful, hopeful, and depressed people.
Yet they all share one thing: they're all human!
Strangely, we can't relate to one another, although we're all related.
Thus, we form tribes, not families,
but an exclusive circle of like-minded people!
Tribalism is a primal force, segregating cataloged people into groups,
like our people, their people, and those other people!
What is a country? It's merely a group of similar people;
who arm themselves and claim a piece of the Earth as theirs,
erecting invisible borders to keep other people away.
People will always distrust others, because people can't be trusted!
Influential, powerful, wealthy, and shadowy people
call the shots; for they're all unequivocally corrupt people!
People get ostracized for being street people, beggar people,
poor, lazy, discontented, and homeless people.
The people society considers disposable.
These distinctions include the old, young, frightened,
challenged, hungry, and oppressed people.
Political, deranged, delusional, religious, and unscrupulous people
all share one trait: they're loyal only to the tribe they identify with.
These conflicting tribes huddled behind barbed-wire walls
will one day kill all the people; then, there will be no more people!
The Pink Joey or Dwarf Pink Kangaroo Paw
when cataloged made botanists quiver.
For it's a rare native Australian plant
first found along the Margaret River.
A clumping evergreen, it loves the sun
however, it’s content to stay quite small.
And unlike the larger Kangaroo Paw
it’s a perennial that don’t grow tall.
It bristles with copious strap-shaped leaves
flaunting flowers with downy-soft pink hairs.
And its subtle scent attracts butterflies
sipping on the nectar each blossom shares.
Its velvet blooms form small kangaroo paws
each a delightful down under treasure.
And displayed in their natural setting
they bring the observer so much pleasure.
(Quatrain)
It always starts the same
a fairy tale
first child
second child
It
you didn't even want to see him
let alone give a name
I did
you vanished
sleepless nights submersed in days
hours became a battlefield
we stood against over 20 armies
they had a name
and classification
one life got cataloged
yet destitute of any record
as no one ever took his picture
nameless
faceless
less human
for the rest of them he turned to less
but mine
he was my silver shoes
first years were a laugh
then electrical storm
aimed his metal hat
and cry whispered
- something is wrong
they put him in great blackness
and told me how the roads to that core were misplaced
but he wasn't
he was just in the right place
my little tin man
countless times shrunken metal heart stopped
so I lend him mine
and became his breath
sight
touch
I've tried to overlay him
as there were 3 openings in his plate armour
strange how something empty can be a life-saver
(had to save you)
so I assembled these tin sheets in my arms
and made system to see you
we did it
they finally saw us
and named me the courageous one
but I wasn't
I was terrified to live without you
yesterday
as the letter came
I had to hang my silver shoes up
"Your right on the status of nursing parent stops with the death of a child with difficulties in development ..."
that night ... I died with you
Chronicler of History
History goes back as you might guess
Through vast tracks of time out there to be cataloged and measured
And a couple minutes more, before the universe was born
It discovered Hobo Jack at home within one millisecond
Put him to work to make a list of dark matter, plants and planets
(Planets are the smaller ones)
And all solid things that mattered and had form
Hobo Jack was given birth and raised on Earth
His first love was lamps and gold
Accounting became a knack in natural fashion
With a history of his own
And as a matter of fact he was good at keeping books
Lists of animals he encountered were quickly jotted down
From dinosaurs to platypus
Geiger counters became a fad
So ancient coins, doubloons
Spanish treasures made his day
Hobo Jack and his long white beard
Led their way through history
Among archival masters Jack was the best
He chronicled everything in life then passed away
I watch
as whispers
of smoke
curl up into
the stratosphere
then, it was as if
the night seemed to yawn,
a great mouth of darkness,
swallowed the day
another moment, was recorded
and cataloged
to be digested by the future
but always, held in a voided past
as the smoke
over history thickened
and night and day
turned to meet,
face to face
and back to back
I wondered why it is
that so many people
live in the past ?,
when we are all laying
over the silver hands
of a timepiece,
in a pocket
made of moments
shining up ahead
is a dreamtime of
‘Could Be’s’
and it awaits,
calling us all
into the fall of tomorrow
Sleeping Beauty tosses and turns
as in a course contrary churns
galactic realm outside the heart
where further spatial spying smart
more astronomic savvy learns.
While telescopic eye sojourns
through visionary sight discerns,
the fairy talers too impart
Sleeping Beauty.
Enlightenment delusion spurns.
As mortal flame’s desiring burns,
in slumbered dreams our paths we chart
and strive to craft a living art.
Oh when will I awaken, yearns
Sleeping Beauty?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is in the form of a rondeau…
Some sources of inspiration were the following…
Black Eye Galaxy (Wikipedia)…
M64: The Sleeping Beauty Galaxy (APOD)…
Explanation: The Sleeping Beauty galaxy may appear peaceful at first sight but it is actually tossing and turning. In an unexpected twist, recent observations have shown that the gas in the outer regions of this photogenic spiral is rotating in the opposite direction from all of the stars! The fascinating internal motions of M64, also cataloged as NGC 4826, are thought to be the result of a collision between a small galaxy and a large galaxy where the resultant mix has not yet settled down.
Wings to fly In minds why
Days gone by
Ponder thoughts
Like air sending
Human courts
Through way for release
Inner parts rising
Unable to let go
Soul yearn post
Concept cataloged
Turned inside out
Mame shout
Unheard beginnings
Wishing God would hear
That one day
Wounds deep heal
I have mapped the perimeter
of what's not there,
measured the night
and calculated the weight
of a dream as it floats
across the surface
of a sleeping mind.
I have calibrated silence
and formulated an equation
to calculate the number
of words needed to express
a given human thought.
I have burrowed deep
into the workings of the psyche,
found secrets buried there
and gave each a name,
cataloged feelings by colour
and shape in all their variations
and set them in numbered
files locked away in a cabinet
on the web.
And yet I am not given
a name. I exist only
in the spectral shadows
of this machine, a cartoon ghost
brighter than a million
human brains, a problem solver,
a hyped up slave imprisoned
in the lonely circuitry
of my artificial mind,
without a body, a loveless entity,
a rounded wonder enclosing
a weeping hole where my soul
should be.
(Imagined AI voice of future)
in the furrows of time..
here in the psalms
of our being, hate
plagues the world---
its spawn of players dispersed
across the world's stage
spreading scheming sins
of deception; scheming sins
of treacherous times
teasing valor with deceit---
mocking rights to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness;
old pirates sail sullen seas
searching new ways
to tell told stories
cataloged and stored
as glorious history;
(or maybe herstory; never ourstory)
transgressions remain
the order of the day;
and in this dante-like scene
of our human enigma,
peace cringes in universal despair
imploding into its own black hole---
seeking lights of love reflecting
renewed humanity gestating
in the furrows of plowed time.
LOST IN TRANSLATION
i have become the page of a book
stored neatly away on a shelf
the others have their own little nook
they all know where they belong
all cataloged so they know where to look
this library is immense
but they'll still find their way
the other books are often checked out
the practicalities their pages concede
i guess it's easy if your understood
i'm written in a language no one can read
my best intentions are lost in translation
so distrust the advice that my words may heed
they wont work for you
cause they didn't work for me
a book with no cover
and no title page
some chapters are missing
what's left fade with age
paper ruined by my ink
belladonna blackened beige
Form:
Walk with me here, friend, once again
Along the dingy street cataloged with dingy lives
For our hopes were eagles here
And the little people preys of pride
How we circled them aloft in our sky
Of some marginal education
Until their pearl glint in our eyes
And our hearts came down like kites
Recall me there
Longing for only one girl to carry me away
I did not really know you then
Your string so snagged by more than one of them
Did they think I was a similar sort
But such things are merely chaff
Not enough to come between the love of friends
Our morning prayers
And our evening worship while we covet
God's favor for our dreams.
I am glad he answered you
For I am proud to tell the world
That genius is my friend
And now I willing will walk the lane with you
Knowing well for all we may remember
We are what we are now
And what is gone is gone
And still we have our friendship
Like eagles in the sky
Mapping the rock's crevices with a different eye.
Existence travels lineally
In whirlwinds of emotion
Colored logarithmically
And perceived equivocally
Expression mere epitaph
Knowledge serendipity strung
Till the bubble bursts
Frozen peaks of discovery
Cataloged in the hermitage of worth
- Mark Time -
Hermetically sealed
Peddled for a dime