Best Futures Poems
A spectacle there before my eyes
The return of love from a painful demise
Though time has passed for a heart to roam
Destiny beholds and guides us home
A reunion kiss breathless to share
Love to make beyond compare
Faithful gesture soft and sweet
Leaves us raptured and swept off our feet
A new beginning of truth be told
A treasured relationship worth more than gold
Eternal bond to worlds end
The futures bright whilst love does mend
Dare I dream about a future cottage,
Where I live suits me well,
The beautiful tall trees and walkways,
There is a serene lake nearby,
Where you can view ducks and geese swimming past,
In the morning you can see the mist rise from the lake,
The sounds of nature are everywhere,
This is paradise to me for years,
To be thus blessed and thankful,
Days with nature and the outdoors through the years,
What pleasure and delight, at home with God's nature.
To return home and sit by the cafe window,
Savouring a delicious hot chocolate with cream,
My relatives guesting and sharing this paradise on special days,
God 's miraculous blessings come true,
Thankful appreciation to the Lord our God.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Intergalactic travel reveals some kinks.
Man visited mars and left a sphinx.
Cydonia and Mesopotamia saw new futures borne.
The “Tower of Babel” and ancient technology…men mourn.
Was man’s “spirit world” formerly preserved on Mars?
Did “sons of God” once travel among the stars?
Egyptians learned to build sphinxes to provide for souls.
Their tradition, also, distantly reverenced afterlife’s goals.
The Tower of Babel…great technology…lost.
Travel through the heavens was stopped at great cost.
Many marvels, modern man cannot explain.
A sphinx on a distant planet, mysteries remain.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
September 15, 2010
"The Looped Vision of Futures"
The loop plays non-stop
the needle steps out of time
into the groove of you and me
all of us played for time we are their revelry
hockey pucks struck by
the quiet hidden demons
smiling and licking their lips
already tasting our souls on a vicious ice field
lives matter no matter the colour of political greed
time repeats over the record cracks
verdicts and untruths the bells ringing out
once the song of that king of civil rights now forgotten
the bill players kiss each other with glee
prayers and confessionals are wasted
on all your wise misspent revolutions
wafers dipped into a book of wagers
profits and losses lost in tombs all black sealed
could questioning minds make poetry
from a death's throat opened to sing
fresh air to breathe
evolve some kind truth
for humanity’s last minute a saved dignity
and still the elephants march into the room
slowly holding in their adrenaline trunks the dry bones of doom
swinging low vibes slyly into our world view
in their silent hidden stoic hypocrisy
are we simpletons not alone
wanting some humanity
sanity dies on the detour neck of a road open
when we are down on our knees
praying for some brevity
shortness of time
waves wash over you and me
in that vacant parking lot we wait
when the war has dissolved
what remains of the forgotten beautiful dream
broken sutures misplaced in a corner
no longer no blue nor no green
some bad dream
shelved on parchment hidden
in cracked pots of clay forgotten in caves
some other world's dark gone wrong history
ignored,
ghost wars
crying out
caught and unheard
for some Light and some peace
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
There were days left over;
this fantastic architecture,
days of a planet too young to be seen,
at man’s eyes.
wanders companioned,
weary youth,
reflects on, with curious eyes path,
feel the last evening’s silent branches breath;
too few:
one step back Adam.
Integrate the least,
lest:
last tomorrow:
Atlantean ship’s return, dark outland’s call,
in men’s dreams only, to cold steam rising fall,
on green magic’s mist want,
only to find
I believe in futures,
God's miracles guest.
The friendship with relatives and friends,
Sometimes I dream of having a boyfriend and husband again.
I used to dream of becoming a performer,
Singing a solo, I sang the song "Wiseman Say".
The seniors in the dinning-hall all clapped,
We are having an Elvis Social for Valentine"s Day.
I have had a very successful retirement,
Accomplished as an artist and poet.
I used to cook for my father Dr. Wolf,
Invited my parents to lunch and dinner.
They really liked that,
I like thinking about these times .
My younger sister and her children come to visit with their father.
I enjoy these times very much.
I used to think about the sisters performing together,
Father taught us a love for music.
We are very blessed to have these friendships,
I thank God for guesting.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Seems companies are betting big
on real estate in the metaverse…
I cannot possibly surmise
an investment in a scheme that’s worse.
Perhaps you’d like an NFT?
Afraid it’s all fungible to me…
Or maybe cryptocurrency?
Once again, it seems all Greek to me.
Give me some land to plant my feet;
vegetables in a garden sweet.
Some borrow to reduce the shock;
I’ll stick to cash and not go in hock.
I know I’m an old-fashioned guy,
and probably more so when I die…
So I’ll invest in my grandkids,
hope when I pass that they say, “He did!”
Possible Futures
For some of us, what was to be our future?,
now lies upon the decomposing pages of our past.
We have let it slip through our fingers,
like sand slipping through the neck of an hour glass.
The only reminder, dust clinging to its inside walls.
Hazy, delusional images of what could have, should have been.
Unfortunately !!!, never to be lived, never to be seen,
upon the undulating waves, the mirrored image of this plane.
And so we walk through this life waiting to come around again,
knowing what now exists for us are but moments to live.
This being all that we, life, karma, fate, the universe has to give
us, us who have left our dreams, our future in the hands of destiny.
B. J. “ A ” 2
October 19th 2016
Peter and I are together and we’re in a grove.
Time is our treasure, precious and dwindling.
I watch for signs of the future unfolding,
like a twitch that might be the first sign of a stroke.
Answers will come - slowly - or they’ll parachute in from nowhere.
We spend a lot of time together but most of it is spent studying.
We both have silences that shouldn’t be penetrated.
I have so many questions, but I keep them at a safe distance,
so I don’t feel the need to interact with them.
All I know is we’re alive, and we still have to dance.
It's not always fun, operating in the face of uncertainty
but what else can we do - except go through the motions?
“When exactly did the world lose its collective mind?” I asked, reading the news on my iPad.
Peter looked up from the book he was highlighting with a phosphorescent pink pen.
“They’ve found toxic metals in CHOCOLATES. Everywhere.” I announced, like that Poe bird.
“I guess we’re canceling chocolate then,” he said, sarcastically, “we’ll adapt.”
“Yeah, you bet.” I said with genuine irony.
HISTORY HAS A WAY
OF REPEATING ITSELF.
WHEN YOU RESEARCH
THE PAST
YOU'LL DISCOVER THE
FUTURE.
AS YOU CONTINUE
YOU'LL REALIZE WHAT'S AHEAD.
THE MORE I UNCOVERED
THE MORE INTERESTING
I FOUND THE FUTURE TO BE.
HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE.
THOSE IN THE PAST
WERE PRESENT IN THE FUTURE.
THIS WAS A MYSTERY
I HAD TO UNRAVEL.
I PUSHED MY OBSERVATION
TO THE BRINK OF CRITICAL
PROPORTIONS.
A MATHEMATICAL FORMULA
I DISCOVERED IN THE PAST
OR WAS IT THE FUTURE
FROM WHERE I CURRENTLY
FIND MYSELF.
INDEED IMAGINATION PLAYED
A MAJOR ROLE
ALLOWING ME TO VISUALIZE
THE SITUATION.
I NOTICED MULTIPLE
FREQUENCIES AND
GEOMAGNETIC FORCES.
UNLIKE GEOMAGNETIC FIELD.
THIS WAS SOMETHING
QUITE DIFFERENT.
AS IF IT WERE EXTRACTING
MY BEING AND INCORPORATING
IT INTO FREQUENCY.
I CURIOUSLY TRIED
TO COMPREHEND
THE SITUATION TAKING PLACE.
A FREQUENCY OF ENERGY SO THIN
AND AT THE SAME TIME
COVERING A VERY VAST TERRITORY.
AS IF A LAYER WAS BEING ADDED
TO THE MAGNETIC FIELD.
YET AT THE SAME TIME
THE ENERGY WAS NEITHER
POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE.
I BEGAN TO FEEL AS IF I
WERE OBSERVING
A PROCESS OF CONVERSION.
A CONVERSION FROM BEING
TO ENERGY.
FROM ENERGY TO FREQUENCY
PROJECTING ITSELF
BACK TO BEING
IN A FRACTION OF TIME.
THE QUESTION IS NOW.
WHAT IS A FRACTION
OF TIME ?
IS LIFE A FRACTION
OF A LIFETIME ?
Michael E. Harris
04132022
I worry for the future
disappointed in these power games
those in charge play yet never suture.
They seem to act maliciously
for the populace but for themselves
they alone are all that matter ambitiously.
What of the common man or woman
the average Jane, Jose, Mark and Malik
who struggle everyday just to be citizen most human?
The power mongers say quite bold and loudly
they feel the heartbeat of the masses
while satisfying their wants unashamed and proudly.
Nothing changes
or if it does it has miniscule effect
evaporating in the non-contritional rhetoric.
Republican or Democrat policies assume
they are truly donkeys and elephants
in the senate and congressional rooms.
Alt rights or alt lefts and conservative liberals
lay in the backgrounds shouting and screaming
foul play as if they were pseudo embedded federals.
All the while these decision makers
grow wealthier hiding their greed
and displaying egos as the sole givers and takers.
I have lost faith's blade
in every word each repetitiously and gratuitously speak
and see the coming years as promise lost to the lathe.
I worry for the futures yet to come
the generations left with this foolishness to expunge
how will history record the age of America undone?
I’m finally going to get on that platform
on the 18th of next month,
for a first-time, one-time performance.
The once, seemingly impossible will come fully true,
which seems like a lot narratively.
It’ll be like leaving home—but we’re crashing out.
Moving on to other plot points, big topics and intense missions.
We’re all caustically optimistic.
Although there’s a cellular-level pull to move on
we can’t help but feel a hesitancy to jump into our multifarious futures.
We’ve never been improvident.
In my personal pool of experience, when I feel alone,
friendless and unseen, this unintelligible fear noise arises,
and I'm tempted to tap out. But I never have.
.
.
Songs for this:
walk but in a garden by LLusion
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone
Why should
or would
or could authority of competing violent colonizing pasts
outweigh responsibility for our cooperative co-arising futures?
People with disabling histories
seem to be more honest,
transparent,
to speak thirsty truth
to disintegrities of egocentric abilities
practiced to disempower others,
stalking chronic vulnerability to WinLose ZeroSum enculturation.
Sometimes candid integrity,
honesty,
if not dismissed as pie in sky mysticism,
ignored as a not fully developed fool's errand,
denies BusinessAsUsual WinLose ecopolitical camouflage,
Mendacity hidden behind stalking
competing white lies don't publicly or privately matter
as much as white male privileged
Western historical enculturation capacities
control
colonizing toward SuperElite
stalking LeftBrain-languaged
deductive/reductive supremacy
Stalking privileges over heart-mind RightBrain disabilities
retaining newborn faith
about our shared abilities
to love all Sacred EarthTribe
With a love preferring non-violent revolutions
working around
and through
and against further patriarchal dominant evolutions,
devolutions stalking remaining undervalued pockets,
populations
nature/spirit populace
resilient residents
of health/wealth co-resonant integrity,
humane/divine trans-physical
omnipresent ability
to love future/past fully
Committed to climate health/wealth,
inside egos and outside ecological poly-theologies
Truth within BeautyGrace
Why should
or would
or could authority of competing violent competing missionary pasts
outweigh responsibility for our cooperative co-arising
secular/sacred
physical/metaphysical
outside/inside
healthy/wealthy
eco/ego-
futures?
My Future’s Past
“They” blame us for being the men,
in a sense (innocent), “we’re meant to be”. When “They” are the ones..
Changing our destinies,
And rewriting our history.
“They” blame us for the paths we take,
But pave the streets in our society.
Shackle us in chains, constrained.
Where we work for free, while not free,
In a system designed simply..
As a new incarnation of the evil,
Formlery known as Slavery.
In “The hood” “They” hide, too afraid
To face , their true identity.
Born to a home, devoid of mirrors .
Yet “They” indulge in the sin of vanity.
For God, how should I see Past their
Acts of genocide, when my Future is..
Hence•forth affected irreparably?
No matter what mountain I climb..
I’m stuck in this Sisyphean reality.
And the stone pushing me down,
Is the very one bragging at the ease
Of getting to the peak, before me.
Every Future has a Past,
And every chain has a link.
The links in my chain(DNA),
Have been altered because of my Past’s identity.
Therefore my Future if forever changed in history.