Best Patriarchs Poems
My childhood started to end when it’s power began to show.
With a trash bag and shovel, into the forest we go.
My first, father buried under a tree.
Watching and realizing, one day it will be me.
Every dog since then, holding them as others push plungers,
So that my best friends, wouldn’t have to die alone with strangers.
At twenty, in a parlor, lays a friend’s five year old brother,
Seeing God in the eyes of that child’s mother.
I can still see her standing beside his little coffin.
Now with kids of my own, I think of her often.
Understanding faith and how it will get you thru,
And respecting other’s choices on just what is true.
The family’s new patriarchs and matriarchs have buried the old.
After two generations, memories start to grow cold.
As my shadow grips me tighter with pain and in mirror.
With every day’s night, in my bed, it snuggles nearer.
On the units of my profession, souls lay in procession.
Crossing many shadows in a day with acts of compassion.
Peace at the hour of sleep with Ambien,
Theirs to keep until waking up to the truth again.
Wiping the tears that run down their face,
When words can’t give what is in an embrace.
Timed by the critical numbers in lab values,
Giving the Artisan no rest from monuments and statues.
Morphine when breathing becomes a battle,
As their disappearing shadow becomes a rattle.
Soon their eyes are frozen in a blank stare.
Auscultating a heartbeat that is no longer there.
Masters give illusions of sleep in a viewing.
In mediums and dreams they are still living.
Headlights of touched souls, in parades of cars,
Belies among Sartre’s roles, the only one that is truly ours?
=====================================
Contest: Any Sad Poem
Finalized: 11.03.15
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed: 2nd
Poem Written: 12.10.14
Categories:
patriarchs, death, funeral, growing up,
Form:
Rhyme
Pained am I with the waste of life,
Of dreams that lie like myriad shards,
Of hopes and love left far behind,
Taking flight on withered wings of
Unrequited expectations.
Sad am I that young roiling blood
Is stilled, silenced, with abandonment.
Where is the burning zeal and zest,
Brash bravado and youthfulness,
Life that thrives on - being alive?
We drink toasts to greatness, success, gain,
Do we empathize with those who fail?
Is what is taught is only that
Our goal by day, and that by night,
Is we've just got to beat the best?
Angered am I to read of death
Of youth who think life's race they have lost,
Laying great store by trivial
Pursuits whose conquest placed above
Life, and limb, and the self itself?
Oh, callow youth, oh innocent you!
A quagmire of treachery and deceit
Life is woefully all about.
You win some points, but lose some more-
With honour take it in your stride.
Carry on regardless with a smile,
Drink a toast to what'er be your lot.
Through wind and storm or sunny days
The days relentlessly zoom by
Always heralding happy cheer!
Blame not the foolhardiness of youth
For life cut short due to shattered dreams.
Blame lies squarely on the heads of
Patriarchs of a synthetic
Society of transferred hopes.
Categories:
patriarchs, anger, angst, death of
Form:
Blank verse
The Way barred, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Le sens clos by T. Wignesan
Every man has to confront his own night
If he wants to continue on his journey.
But Death takes it upon itself to meet him
At the hour and the place it chooses
(The moment when sometimes this man’s most at peace
Making him forget the profoundness of being at ease.)
There’s this look which suddenly arrests him
This wall against which he collides headlong.
There’s this arrow-like fixedness focussing ahead
Visible in his pupils. There’s this stiffness
Of the nape through which the soul is reached.
There’s this man’s expression of utter surrender
Yet he takes the step into the impenetrable void.
Yet this obscure hardness is an invitation
To force the impenetrable door through dire anxiety.
It being convenient to defer to terror
The way one dons a wedding dress. As long as God
Does not imbue with madness those who love Him
He’s not loved as He would have wished.
Just the way the Patriarchs the Prophets
Train their sights towards this wine. And the face
Gaping at the first to arrive on the road
To take him back home. Someone fills it up
Like one does a cup : this passer-by becomes Jacob
Unable to control God in his veins,
And the over-abundance frothing in his eyes.
He who assails the invisible (perhaps you)
Little does it matter if he’s petrified
Or if his limbs flail in the emptiness. He equally
Experiences the misery of such venerable persons
Who mask their vacant selves with such gestures
Their atrocious trances with such stillness.
If every man must on his own open the door of his night
That’s just so as to reveal what’s meant for all mankind.
No Jacob will ever stop clasping at God
Nor await Abraham’s Justice
Nor keep silent under Isaac’s knife.
Nor for the Adam in every one of us to provoke
The echo of the void at the portals of paradise.
(Jacob, O.C. t. II, p. 147)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 19, 2014
Categories:
patriarchs, death, mystery,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Mostly, she had the heebie jeebies, peaking at early risers
Outside, morning was muted with its first faint flush
Right before bristled being, allure of dawn shook her
Noah's voice and patriarchs of old floated by
Imagine those coils; Delilah had come to nip
Night looked on, swelled with pride remorse would rise
God of heaven and earth knew Minerva could be healed.
Nothing moves miraculously as the Almighty
Once she could hear her own obsequy; such living dead
Out on paths of ruin, Minerva ran and ran
Noon's scorcher, and blizzard, and torrents knew she'd show.
Night was of rain and song; of mind cruise to Caribbean hometown
Ideally, one sky light, alone time, and quietude was craved
God of her mother spoke nothing into something
Head lights once broken, beamed, then glowed
That spring; the new millennium sprung fresh light, water, air, and fire.
*
Categories:
patriarchs, abuse, addiction, blessing, butterfly,
Form:
Acrostic
I knew a man who was hurting so much
He lost everything, didn't believe in love
He prayed for everyone that walked amongst earth
He tried to believe in god, but every prayer flawed
Maybe god himself, was nothing but a fraud?
If he walked among earth, I'd say "I know exactly what you are"
He'd see life is so very hard, being trapped beneath the stars
Being able to see how many in the graveyard
Is this what he wanted, did we play our part?
Governments being the patriarchs
It took so many years, to see that woman creates our heart
Since the start of time, that's where the degrading starts
We undermined our matriarch
God's mother would be asking why do we hate each other
This world wasn't made to suffer
Or even face each other
So why aren't they helping one another
Cause society was taught, if you want something
You just grasp out, and take it
They don't care if it's sacred!
Or even human nature
They'll tear it down, they don't care if it's ancient
Atleast once in everyman, they only know is hatred
Because we don't believe or trust in God
Cause has he ever talked to you?
I take it upon my thoughts
Because preachers tend to walk for you
I tend to be lost, so how do they even talk for you?
It sounds suspicious, but if there were a god...
Where was the mention of the goddess then?
Everyone was born, so where the hell is the honest men?
But if he were to be reborn again
He'd see our atrocities
Wouldn't like our thought of philosophies
Seeing life played like monopoly
When countries have to cope with poverty
But in all honesty...
It's gotta be
That gods given gift
Wasn't just for us to live
We're all gods hidden...
Cause we're gods living.
Categories:
patriarchs, art, blessing, god, men,
Form:
Narrative
this one goes out to all you symbolphrenics
wink wink light the fuse and
bow only before your own image
for we are each a TV studio
with really huge detector molecules
recall that consciousness is tunable
you need only space your characters
and employ the 11th Commandment play fair
since my next act will be
to answer all your questions
and awaken you into a fairy tale kingdom
touch your finger to your temple
and smile for the first time
or play dumb and ride your rocket cycle
like there's no other traffic
from whence gallop dustily
the Fusileers of Wrackworm
sputtering judgmental patriarchs
make me vomit up my existence tax
hail the King and his syphilis
a Macy's parade of commitment
yes mice fart alongside the elephants
and what you don't know can
tear your guts out with surprise
but his dreams were tentacles
because this is all highly experimental
and nerve wracking
have a beer relax
tear off some 30 mile road kill chew
best jerky squealing wheels can buy
2-D carcass straight to your door
with the buzz of hot flies
with the hot buzz of flies
in a two lane blacktop
sun baked desert minute
your reward for coughing in the theater
did you get the message
a colorful example of paintball diplomacy
smelling of chainsaw oil and circus sawdust
in a diary of hard edge opaque metaphysics
his only safety the anchovy hunters
were never as numerous as their prey
never apologize to yourself
it just becomes habit
the semioticians could
dick with that for hours wink wink
being deaf to the tea kettle
selling loneliness as a communal experience
so hey kids let's learn something new
and dine with the revolution
the information revolution you sod
well besame mucho you brute
pain is not a higher nerve path
style monsters invade the sky
maniquinkind doomed and destroyed
I suppose every language
has its upper crust dialect
so few palindromes when you need them
with a leak proof lid what would Tupper wear
the customer can do no wrong
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
patriarchs, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
He shocks me. Only a day or so ago
I'm sure I didn't look like that.
I try to part the few thin strands
of hair up top, the patriarchs before me
saw on their own sluggish heads
not long ago--I was not so sure that I
would always wish them peaceful rest;
it wasn't my idea!
But I have joined them now; this role
of wisdom in a geezer doesn't
always fit--and no one falls in love
with old ideas when the new ones
are in vogue. Respect and polity
lacked the concern of youth
that I knew 60 years ago.
'Twas ever thus? Perhaps. I never
long for olden days. I would, however
like to have us all just listen
to each other, stow the fear
and tempest in those heads
that sleepily look back at us each morning,
then forgive them, aged and young,
of all our doubts, for hoary heads alone
are not the arbiters of peace or joy.
It is every mother's son
indeed in saecula and saeculorum, say:
Amen, again Amen.
~
Categories:
patriarchs, age,
Form:
Free verse
It took us too long,
but eventually
we noticed Republican women
and Democrats both women and men
often preferred to spend about twice as much on domestic education
and defensively proactive mutual health care assurance
as compared to international defensive co-investment,
too often reduced to the militaristic over-industrialized budget.
And, of that international relations budget,
about two-thirds for growing cultures of healthy peace warriors
and maybe up to one-third on policing criminal offense
with cooperative co-investment intent.
So,
the domestic and educational security matriarchs
formed cooperative ecopolitical networks
for governing inside these fifty States,
while the more WinWin patriarchs
tried to mutually dominate
a more Left-Right Brain and Mind and Incarnate Body
of harmonic global co-investment networks.
Both internal and external cooperatives
rooted in Lovelock and Margulis double-binding
chemistry as also synergetic microbiology
producing Gaia Hypotheses of CoRevolution,
flowering in Golden Rules Revised:
Do not not ecopolitically flex and do
as you would have your great grandchildren remember like you,
with kindness,
contentment,
grace of awesome love,
continued abundant co-investment
in regenerational strings of polypathic mutual promise,
positively imagined in our retrospective matriarchal-patriarchal future,
multicultures of health-balancing wealth.
Categories:
patriarchs, culture, earth, gender, health,
Form:
Political Verse
I say a prayer at a loved ones tomb
I leave a flower, for in my heart they bloom
To me they'll always be a treasure
Never to be forgotten, ever
But there is a tomb where treasures abound
A place where pyramids are found
King Tut's tomb, where treasures did bloom
Treasures that the departed did not assume
The patriarchs of the bible are laid to rest
In the city of Hebron in Palestine
Abraham, Isaac, Jacob were blessed
Their tomb is now a holy shrine
It is known as the Cave of Machpelah
There is a tomb where old bones lie
Unsung in life, but now at rest
The treasure here is hard to deny
They gave it all, the ultimate measure
They'll always be a national treasure
The Tomb of the unknown soldier
Categories:
patriarchs, history,
Form:
Rhyme
To prove
this theory,
exceptions make a rule-
patriarchs seeking a father
figure.
Categories:
patriarchs, life, people,
Form:
Cinquain
Life does not necessarily mature into timeless love,
just as yeast is not the entire evolutionary journey for bread,
and the Way may be part of, but not the entirety of,
the Beloved Community.
It is so interesting, for a nondualist at least,
that a profoundly radical Jewish teacher
would say He is the yeast
while We are the embodied bread;
He is the Way,
yet We are the Kingdoms and QueenEarth Shabbats at hand.
Then the men turn it around,
get it all dualistically, cause-effect backwards,
while the women probably knew this Messianic mentor
as bootstrapping our evolutionary fulfilling birthing process
of incoming and oncoming and ongoing cooperative co-messianism.
The patriarchs,
with theo-means not-ecological words in hand,
were too invested in their post-revolutionary need to distance themselves
from the then-powerful elitist threat of Judaic cultural power,
at least by comparison with their post-revolutionary
dualist-fundamentalist Either/Or departure
into before-Christ/after-Christ messianism-already-fulfilled
by the One
who taught himself as the intentional mentoring leaven,
and not the entire cooperative organic co-salvific loaf;
as the only Way He could speak of and for,
but not our entire EarthTribe Garden
of cooperative ecotherapeutic
co-redemptive messianism at hand.
Too bad the wives and mothers,
the nondualist gatherers and not so much the dualist hunters,
didn't have the education,
or perhaps even the verbal communication skills,
to write down their creolizing nondualist fulfillment narratives
of cooperative nurture,
to recall and cast a nondualist Messiah
who did not come to kill YHWH's Chosen People,
or His own culture,
the regenerative history flowing through his humane-divining
mindbody,
but to leaven with these Elders,
those who had no ecopolitical Win/Lose self-centered elitist hypocrisies
like the Pharisees and Sadduccees,
those who were not over-invested in the competitive change of Caesar's coin
from useful for cooperative consuming health
into iconic value-only for producing disembodied hoards of wealth,
and to leaven within us
as one continuously multiculturing
multigenerational
nondualistic-BothJewish/AndChristian
organic creolizing mindbody
of regenerative intention
and vast ecopolitically radical compassion;
like yeast evolving divinely humane bread.
Categories:
patriarchs, christian, education, jewish, mentor,
Form:
Political Verse
He spoke with his ego-systemic body
through his own eco-logical maturation.
She flowed bilateral time
with her ego-eco centering mind
incarnating Earth's humane regenerate economy.
Together they commune nature-spirit hybrids,
bicamerally creolic
co-redeeming care-giving spirits,
completing each holonic tridium of becoming
one within spacetime's ecological promise,
three-placed co-present economy
of trilateral political grace,
playing enculturing WinWin games
ego-eco creations of just right mentoring integrity
strategizing cooperative economic-logical health,
this Holy Trinity's supply and demand
for resonant triaged wealth.
He asked of this grey spirit,
Are we white or black,
male or female?
She responds in gray embodied script
Yes, both white and black,
patriarchs born of bodhisattva matriarchs,
yet not mature all white
and yet not mature all black,
and in-between our ecologic-economic natures meet
enspiriting cooperations
of integrity
with all trinitarian stories past enfolded
and all those yet wu wei unfolding
within Earth's potential bounty.
Each languaged life,
both embodied left and mindful right relational
internal political landscapes
dawning through Earth's renewal
of and for external climate health of bodymind
organic integration networks,
integrity of love's polyphonic wealth.
And so this marriage
of ego-capital,
wisdom's logical acquisition
and accumulating
and re-investing body,
with eco-normative mind
regenerates nature-spirit nondual wedded stories
co-arising through each reweaving
enspiriting
incarnate Promise Day.
Categories:
patriarchs, culture, gender, health, humanity,
Form:
Political Verse
Wilderness edible forests,
to hungry mothers,
became wild undomesticated wastelands
to commodifying and taxing FatherLand patriarchs.
Wilderness matriarchs once Pledged Allegiance to the Sun,
and Gratitude to GrandMother Moon
for both interdependent fullness
and new womb emptiness,
grace-filled promise
of future healthy integrity,
pregnant with promising fertility.
We pledge allegiance and gratitude to our Sun,
One Icon of our First Native Nations and Wilderness Tribes,
reforesting and harvesting indivisibly synced
under and within SkyMother Earth
with liberty to not be unpatriotically bullied
to rescind each democratic individual's right
to equal liberty of mind and heart and body,
and forest wilderness ecojustice
for all GrandMother Moon's health planting
and wealth harvesting children,
Moon-matriotic matriarchs
and Sun-patriotic patriarchs.
Expressing grateful loyalty within
wilderness edible forests,
to and for hungry parents and grandparents,
becoming wildly domesticated fertile lands and waters
co-arising fire-lit atmospheric climates
to cooperatively commodify
and sacredly deify
and co-invest Mother EarthTribe
matriarchs rewombing
maturing matriarchs with patriarchs,
born equally of transubstantiating Sacred SunLight,
Love,
Grace
breeding and feeding
cooperatively owned Gratitude
of sun-drenched EarthTribes.
Could our polycultural history of sun worship
trump mere nationalistic supremacist flagships
for more sustainable healthcare
within patriot/matriot-balancing
multiculturing identity?
Categories:
patriarchs, creation, earth, integrity, mother
Form:
Political Verse
Our home, this earth, we did not own
but, still we would not flee.
The White man came and brought us death.
O God, Be merciful to we.
We Wiccan’s came to this far place
with thoughts we would be free.
All Nature was our finest God,
O God, Be merciful to we.
They cared not for our hearts desire
as draught and comet fell,
they burnt our brethren by decree,
O God, Be merciful to we.
Black men were brought from foreign shores
next, cross the rolling seas...
as slaves they lived, as slaves they died,
Oh God, be merciful to we.
Women, one and all, sought freedom
from patriarchs degrees.
Still, on we labor long for less
Oh God, be merciful to we.
Categories:
patriarchs, angst, education, history, introspection
Form:
Kyrielle
Hello, dear Eldest Son,
and what are you feeling entitled to today?
...
CliffNotes on Christianity.
You mean like Christianity for Dummies?
...
No, no aspersions intended.
I'm wondering...
Maybe some context would help.
Why are you asking about Christianity?
I mean,
other than your totally secular development
and your absence of any sacred fertilization.
...
Yes, well,
we do have that not small problem of evil
despite our omnipotent God.
...
Omnipotent. Like polypathic is to omniscient,
polyculturing outcomes are to omnipotence.
Radically and profoundly and resonantly powerful.
...
Polyphonic to omnipresent...
I'll think about that.
So, yes, I guess my own big take-away from Christianity
is the Holy Spirit is also Gaia.
Just two different names
for one shared holonic regenerate nature-spirit
of co-intelligent evolution revolutions.
...
No, that's about it.
Once you catch on to Holy Spirit
as matriarchal Earth Goddess
nurturing regenerative bilateral-temporal flow,
you can just map Christianity
onto sacred ecology,
and vice versa,
and whatever doesn't seem to fit
probably got added on by some benighted council of patriarchs
anyway.
...
What about God the Father?
...
Well, who would be Father to Earth Goddess?
...
Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.
Earth was born of Father Sun,
and then these two mess with each other
and next thing you know
people come along to make up romantic stories
about photosynthesis
is like breathing
if you have leaves
or healthy bicameral lungs
and heart
and mind.
...
Sure, no problem.
you really didn't call to ask for money?
...
That's what I thought.
How much this time?
...
Categories:
patriarchs, christian, earth, father son,
Form:
Prose Poetry