Best Overmuch Poems
Invoking bliss magnetism, let heart sing,
aware at all times of this simple fact:
the idea or thought is not the thing,
of the fruit we taste and deeds we enact.
We are merely one of the many forms
manifest upon this earth realm dual,
wherein each entity goes through life’s storms,
suffering unless love be soul’s fuel.
Futile and needless are ego spawned tricks,
deludedly engaging in doership,
since it’s love alone that resolves conflicts,
so let heart’s mindfulness be our worship.
Behold birds cross hemispheres without fear ~
Our heartbeat signals God’s presence is near
Our heartbeat signals God’s presence is near,
warming this form made of organic dust,
so by lending strobes of silence our ear,
in time love replaces animal lust.
In our life, needless is struggle and strife,
for at end of days, love alone remains,
so if we but let God be the midwife,
soul’s liberated from ego spawned chains.
In silence there is no energy leak,
enabling God’s spirit to manifest,
so getting out of our way, so to speak,
as witness consciousness we simply rest.
Nothing need be done, save coming undone ~
Recognise dear heart, God and we are one
Recognise dear heart, God and we are one,
simply feeling His breath in us that flows,
restoring our light, shining like the sun,
repaying debts of love, which our soul owes.
All doings are done by God’s hand alone,
wherein all He asks is that we be still,
awestruck beholding inner light full blown,
whereupon all dark voids within us fill.
Just as we’re immersed in dreams every night,
shrugging it off on waking at sunrise,
from this world too, one day we will alight,
if we but release each offered surprise.
Dwell not overmuch on soul’s broken wing ~
Invoking bliss magnetism, let heart sing
Categories:
overmuch, spiritual,
Form:
Crown of Sonnets
The soft geography of hip and thigh,
smooth undulations lovely to the touch,
so silky and provocative, I sigh,
as I caress your contours overmuch;
for I cannot restrain my eagerness
to stroke, manipulate and squeeze,
and lavish you with love and tenderness,
your glowing beauty brings me to my knees.
We reach the culmination of desire,
our own enjoyment fueling the fire.
We lie entangled, warm and worry free,
in blessed partnership and purity.
Categories:
overmuch, sensual,
Form:
Sonnet
3.
Death, the Master, wears a thousand faces.
The white smile of the skull
Lies behind the 5 O'Clock shadow
Beneath, perhaps, those laughing eyes
Looking your way across the bar.
When the shock begins to fade I turn off the news.
I turn once more to the business of living.
To ponder overmuch over why such things happen
Is to invite the spirit to drain down to hollowness.
Before we cast off at night
Onto the uncertain seas and shores of dreamlands,
We might do well to take a long look down within,
Call up and kiss the swarming demons goodnight
While they stir in the strange shadowgaps of the long dark
Resting there on the fringes of consciousness.
Give ear to the language they speak down there,
Learn dark things from the rumble of their mystic, thunderous litanies.
Call for an uneasy peace with the Legions within,
Hold them back, if you can, with our talismans,
The magic words: Reason, Judgement, Morality.
Tumble then into a warm bed
Forget the Furies roaming just outside
Awaiting dead hours to do their work.
The deeds of the night
Will be revealed
When the mist wraiths steal away,
When the sun bleeds rose light
Across the white face of dawn.
Categories:
overmuch, horror, murder,
Form:
Free verse
I sat and watched the sea for hours,
The tidal waters rising higher,
Ignored inconsequential showers
To watch the white and height of spray,
To see the swell and surge of green,
To comprehend a friend’s display
Of innate power and beauty, seen
When moon and wind and beach conspire.
No gentle zephyr’s playful touch
When south and east converge and mingle.
Squealing and squalling overmuch
With roars and cheers in every gust
To urge the waves, to lift them tall
Across the beach in final thrust,
To vent their spleen against the wall,
And then retreat in a shush of shingle.
Categories:
overmuch, sea, beach,
Form:
Rhyme
The soft geography of hip and thigh,
smooth undulations lovely to the touch,
so silky and provocative, I sigh,
as I caress your contours overmuch!
for I cannot restrain my eagerness
to stroke, manipulate and squeeze,
and lavish you with love and tenderness,
your glowing beauty brings me to my knees.
We reach the culmination of desire,
our own enjoyment fueling the fire.
We lie entangled, warm and worry free,
in blessed partnership and purity.
Categories:
overmuch, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Marymount University is saying farewell to some storied majors
including Art, English, Philosophy, Theology - and Math
Artists will starve or survive, and Writers on AI can thrive
Philosophy's rigors are lost on the West today
Theology to moderns hasn't overmuch to say...
But Mathematics?! - the basis for physics
not to mention ALL of computing
~ For her restoration, I am assuredly rooting!
Categories:
overmuch, education, farewell, fate,
Form:
Rhyme
As rains and the torrentialest of snows plummet,
Filling all the skies and the area interstitial to earth and sky
With a frenzy of flying flakes;
As gusty winds doth blow and toss the flakes this way and that;
As torrents true amid the most rending species of gale
Dash themselves bitterly and self-destructively
Against this crude roof,
It is of my hodiernal solitariness,
My aloneness and lonesomeness,
My singleness, and plural,
Romantic stationariness that I must needs
And peradventure speak:
Yet, firstly, permit us all to sit still and our selves
Stationary, silent and still; and silence that intruding music
So ominous yet banal, tinny and slight:
Lighthearted 'tis it, as well:
That which plainly portends our overwhelming destruction,
And that of all our cogitation, cognition, concentration
And composition, with its overmuch resonant yet tinniest
Intrusiveness.
So allow to be it thus and summarily silenced-
Now, that's better.
A man can listen to himself think again;
He can form cognitive thought and appreciation thereof.
Therefor, that music silenced and my concentrative powers
Revived: As a blade at the whetstone, resharpened:
I can keep on with the prosody and poesy of my plight,
But...
Categories:
overmuch, absence, age, america, analogy,
Form:
The sweetest thing between lovers is a touch
Which means I love you to the point of overmuch
Sending thrills unsurpassed
Of true love that will last
Through the trials and tribulations and all of life's smut
Categories:
overmuch, love,
Form:
Limerick
The soft geography of hip and thigh,
smooth undulations lovely to the touch,
so silky and provocative, I sigh,
as I caress your contours overmuch;
for I cannot restrain my eagerness
to stroke, manipulate and squeeze,
and lavish you with love and tenderness,
your glowing beauty brings me to my knees.
We reach the culmination of desire,
our own enjoyment fueling the fire.
We lie entangled, warm and worry free,
in blessed partnership and purity.
Categories:
overmuch, love, passion,
Form:
Verse
The soft geography of hip and thigh,
smooth undulations lovely to the touch,
so silky and provocative, I sigh,
as I caress your contours overmuch
for I cannot restrain my eagerness
to stroke, manipulate and squeeze,
and lavish you with love and tenderness,
your glowing beauty brings me to my knees.
We reach the culmination of desire,
our own enjoyment fueling the fire.
We lie entangled, warm and worry free,
in blessed partnership and purity.
Categories:
overmuch, passion,
Form:
Verse
The soft geography of hip and thigh,
smooth undulations lovely to the touch,
so silky and provocative, I sigh,
as I caress your contours overmuch;
for I cannot restrain my eagerness
to stroke, manipulate and squeeze,
and lavish you with love and tenderness,
your glowing beauty brings me to my knees.
We reach the culmination of desire,
our own enjoyment fueling the fire.
We lie entangled, warm and worry free,
in blessed partnership and purity.
Categories:
overmuch, love,
Form:
Sonnet
He does not answer when I speak,
the severed head in the picnic basket,
nor do the swarming flies on the muslin sack,
buzzing on the dried blood, concern him overmuch.
I still speak to him as ice chunks melt
about his rotting skull, and he rolls with a soft bump
on the passenger seat.
“Al, baby, we’re gonna find out what this is all about.
You and me, Al, we’re gonna find out.”
Mexico shimmers and burns through
dust and dirt, gunfire, filth and murder, and we drive
the backroads in the hammered paint scarred red car,
backfiring clouds of exhaust, pollutant patches of hell.
Gunshots echo through my mind,
bodies pirouette in slow motion, tissue quake ensues,
jetting blood through ripped cloth:
“Why? Because it feels so damn good, that’s why.”
I never had much to speak of, dreams, a girl and a piano,
now my girl is dead and all I have left
is a car, a gun and a severed head in a picnic basket.
And in place of dreams, a heart of darkness and
this impregnable death wish…
Categories:
overmuch, allegory, art, death, life,
Form:
Blank verse
The sweetest thing between lovers is touch
Which means I love you to the point of overmuch
Sending thrills unsurpassed
Of true love that will last
Through trials and tribulations and most of life's smut
Categories:
overmuch, sweet,
Form:
Limerick
The armies they are massing:
They line and ring every shore, every strand bristling with
The deadliest of weapons;
The tocsin should be sounded,
And every cannon is round at its bore.
Fires rage unchecked and unopposed throughout the
Entire world, and mankind, in part, prepares hastily and needlessly
Yet more and crueler,
Harsher atrocities, cruelties
And machines and weapons of horrific war.
Bloody folly and empty vainglory to
Embark imprimis upon the roads to all-out war,
I greatly fear that these are man's fate,
And though I attempt to raise the alarm
With this writing of mine, yet I fear I may be too late!
"Too late! Too late! This, then, is mankind's fate!" It cruelly mocks,
Crows and caws as the ebon raven,
Croaking its dread prophecies in my ever-attentive ear.
It chills even my waiting
Tankard of frothy, frosty beer;
Yet no beer-drinker am I,
No quaffer and lover of ales and lagers.
And still I hold a lonely vigil,
And keep a silent, motionless, breathless watch on the swiftly storm-filling sky.
5. Making steel-enclosed aeronautical, aerodynamical vessels sealed
And brimming only with overmuch indiscriminating death:
Dual-edged, oiled with and soaking in an abundant poison bringing
Vicious death to the poisoner as well as the poisoned,
Man is a violent, self-destructive fool: Lame, impotent,
Obsessed and somehow impatient of vilest death.
Death for his opponent, his manufactured,
Fancied nemesis:
Nay; his NEMESES:
Yet not for himself, this horrid death he dreams of bringing to an imagined enemy only.
Additionally, he hath built and placed all his faith in titanic weaponry of
Awesome destructiveness,
Possessed of the devastating potency of an angry, rampaging god.
And these vile implements of utterest extirpation;
Encased within a very nation of steel tubular;
They are as wayward, incorrigible,
Marauding, plundering, malicious gargantuan
Monsters:
Great, cyclopean giants of a horribly puissant
Destroying fury
Bringing only disaster upon all heads;
Anarachic, ultra-liberal in there dark and evil slaughterousness:
Slaying even their maker, having no loyalty, cold and cruel:
Delighting only in death, wanton destruction, infamy and cruelty.
No man nor nation should possess these terrible weapons,
Yet too many do.
Categories:
overmuch, absence, adventure, africa, allegory,
Form:
War mars the face of man.
Though this be known to all men
we realists connive.
Thrice-prancing priests in March
have made red their faces,
have conspired anew to despoil
summer's increase,
overmuch not caring
for those about to dye
crimson Plutonic plains,
to expire in the dark.
War, Mars, the face of Man?
Categories:
overmuch, war,
Form:
Free verse