Best Rebel(A) Poems
Absurdity, chaos,
strife:
The poet chooses
virtuous reality.
Sisyphus, a
titanic wave of metamorphosis, waiting, salted nausea:
The thinker roughed by sand
a solitary tree in a barren desert
defies absurdity
by seeking meaning in the absurd.
Authenticity,
vision, conformity, religion:
The rebel a roaring
wildfire igniting change like:
authenticity,
vision, and non-conformity
forging their own path.
Project,
reflect, individuality:
The human river
tasting the minerals of experience
expresses identity
and discovers themselves.
Leap,
Übermensch,
ethics,
logotherapy:
The agent
acts with freedom and responsibility
finding purpose.
Meaning,
joy, void, hope:
The sweet-smelling optimist a sunflower
fills emptiness with hope
seeking light in the darkness.
Truth,
illusion, reality, fiction:
The rationalist
discerns the real and the imagined.
Contradiction,
logic, emotion:
The harmonist
strives for balancing
the rational and emotional.
Freedom,
authenticity, manipulation, conformity:
The individualist
resists pressure and influence.
Awareness,
paradox, courage, hope:
The existentialist
embraces the absurd and transcends.
Leak,
speak,
strike,
kneel:
The activist challenges-
The status quo and injustice.
Tirelessly fights for justice!
Death,
suicide, violence, genocide:
The mortal
faces limit and horror with courage.
Despair,
nightmare:
The lover
shares and cares with love.
Existence
precedes essence?
Or essence
precedes existence?
The question
haunts forever.
The Stoic
Observes, unmoved yet aware:
Virtue alone suffices
whether essence or existence;
In reason and nature
we find our constant companion.
If we be spirit and this form a vessel,
affirming that we are boundless like vast space,
thus resting thought flow, in our heart we nestle
with pulsations of love, inpouring by grace.
A rebel, a nerd, we follow not the herd,
choosing to rest ego cravings untoward,
knowing that if God is, He must be within
the cave of our heart, so we go in therein.
We watch in wonderment, light dawn in us,
even as we rest in peaceful repose,
distanced from thought forms, designed to nonplus
our caged consciousness, fragrant like a rose.
God dwells in our heart, ego in the head
and we have been given freedom to choose,
by which impulse we prefer to be led,
shaping our life upon which we then cruise.
If truth be the filter distilling thought,
God’s will is enacted by us on earth,
elixir of love untying heart’s knot,
whence we surf waves of fate bubbling in mirth.
Silence is the path we’ve embarked upon ~
With each breath intake, we’re again reborn
With each breath intake, we’re again reborn,
looking neither back nor ahead in time,
outcomes any, nonchalant is our yawn,
since there are no peaks which we wish to climb.
As the light of God ensouling this form,
body-mind is but like a car we drive,
thus with strobes of love and light we conform
and with pure intent, flame of truth revive.
Content as we are, there is no seeking,
for we are a dweller of the vast void,
heeding whispers of God, in us speaking,
obeying which, delusion is destroyed.
Rebel, a nerd, we follow not the herd ~
For us, Om is God’s gong, His holy word
us, Om is God’s gong, His holy word,
a throb that arises all on its own,
divine magnetism by which nodes are stirred,
benediction bestowed on us alone.
Suffused with cool heat from head till our feet,
we slowly begin to metamorphose,
aligning presence to the cosmic beat,
dance of delight, striking a joyful pose.
In timeless time when ego has capsized,
transcending space-time, we as living light,
meet God face to face and truth’s realised,
becoming the flame that banishes night.
God’s touch is love; we’ve boarded His bliss bus ~
We watch in wonderment, light dawn in us
I am who I am
Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin
My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime
No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent
German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core
Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew
Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames
A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru
After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy
Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception
My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage
Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed
Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same
Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing
New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions
My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession
So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
Before I became a worrier, a rebel, a Spartacus:
I remember listening to an orator on a city bus:
he criticized and enraged some arrogant characters;
he shouted harsh words to the deceiving charlatans,
exposing themselves as hallowed saints in a niche,
when they should have been thrown into a ditch!
Before I attempted to please others,
I realized how naive I was to offer praises:
I had one God to serve, not several gods
who took the appearance of pure divinity;
they had a shining halo over their heads...
ensuing much fear, accusing me of inequity!
Before I had a childish and overt personality,
I trusted anyone and laughed with anybody...
until their derision filled me up with anger;
I broke my connection, realizing it wasn't fair!
Before I diverged from the wrong and dangerous path,
I didn't recognize my naiveness, neither I felt bad vibes;
I helplessly fell into a deep ravine full of vicious vipers:
what spared me death was the laughter of Lady Macbeth!
Timothy Hicks recently suggested
I write one called “Jack the Quack”
Who better than the quacker himself
Who's wheels have left the track
I've never professed to be poet
In the ilk of Browning and Keats
A rebel, a renegade, a enigma of sorts
Marching to a different beat
A bit of a “quacker” I've always been
Take pride in being off beat
Don't have a choice, it's who I am
Travelling down a different street
Always write in the purest of forms
Simple quatrains most of the time
Since a very young age, always thought
Of poetry as a needing to rhyme
Forever been one to revel in creativity
Searching brand new vistas each day
It sure turns my crank and floats my boat
Wouldn't be happy any other way
Thank you Timothy for the inspiration
To express what makes me tick
We're all cut from the very same cloth
Till we find a pathway that clicks
© Jack Ellison 2013
Timothy suggested I write this one appealing to the kiddies
along the lines of "Howard The Mallard"...
I chose a different route!
(A gangster rap)
Yo, on the corner, where the street meets fate,
Unsupervised stop sign, tempting fate,
In the hood's wild west, where rules bend,
That stop sign stands alone, a silent trend.
No law, no authority, it's a lawless land,
But that sign, it's a symbol, taking a stand,
In the chaos of the streets, it holds its ground,
A rebel, a silent voice, all around.
Cars zoomin' by, ignorance in the air,
But that stop sign's there, it doesn't care,
Red octagon, a warning ignored,
In the streets of rebellion, it's adored.
It's like me, in this life of sin,
Breakin' the rules, but I aim to win,
Unsupervised, yet standin' tall,
Against the odds, I'm destined to brawl.
That stop sign's a metaphor, a symbol of might,
In a world so dark, it shines a light,
Unnoticed, unguarded, but it persists,
Like a gangster's resilience, it exists.
I roll through the streets, like a renegade,
With the spirit of that stop sign, never afraid,
In this concrete jungle, where chaos thrives,
I'm the unsupervised rebel, on the rise.
1 The human condition
Since we’re mistaken we’re this body-mind,
we are driven by animal desire,
to the truth of our eternal light blind,
fanning flames of raging lust, till we tire.
In bondage to form, to attachments tied,
although we see clearly we’re doomed to die
and glimpses of God in our dreams are spied,
suffering brought by ego makes us sigh.
In moments of silence we do recall,
innocence of childhood marked our best years
but as we grew up, joy began to fall,
since our mind is always consumed by fears.
We struggle and strive but feel incomplete;
distanced from God’s light, soul suffers defeat
2 Looking within
Distanced from God’s light, soul suffers defeat,
hoping somehow to be rescued by God,
though filled with pride we’ve bent not at His feet
and ego resists giving love a nod.
Consumed by fire of lust, envy and hate,
we are lost and adrift as goalposts shift
and thus twirled about by the quirks of fate,
we recognise not beauty of life’s gift.
We strive and struggle but finally tire
and only then do we choose to look in,
consigning mind to the funeral pyre,
cleansing our heart from the dark stains of sin.
Befriending silence, we plunge in the void,
to reclaim soul’s light, pure and unalloyed.
3 Melding head with heart
To reclaim soul’s light, pure and unalloyed,
all we do is shift from the head to heart,
no longer by dark ego cravings toyed,
gentling our touch and adding love to cart.
A rebel a nerd, distanced from the herd,
we turn our back on objects of desire,
attuned to gong of Om, God’s soundless word,
igniting in cave of heart, love’s bliss fire.
The truth is we are made in God’s image,
pure awareness, eternal living light,
so if we choose, we can turn a new page,
frolicking carefree by day and by night.
Man’s unable to be loving and kind,
since we’re mistaken we’re this body-mind.
I am a peacock preening feathers
So you might not notice
How slight I really am.
Maintain this sheen make it gleam
Lest it betray my fear
Of prying eyes
From fiendish spies.
So many layers built upon
For year after year after year
I don’t remember the colour
Of my own natural skin.
There are few and far between
That see me as I am,
When days length gives way
To evenings hold and nights sway,
All the shimmer and shine
Of my prized plumage
Means nothing in the dark.
The fear of being known
As well of being unknown
Keeps me painted today,
Now you know my secret
Seen the crack in my veneer,
When twilights comes
And the brilliance of the sun
Angles just right I’ll see yours too.
Wear your flaw proudly
It’s what makes you different
Not just another zoo attraction
Be a rebel a renegade
Choose to boil or freeze
No matter the centigrade.
far better, as a rebel, a nerd
than a blind follower, of the herd
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone we walk, the lonely pathless path,
feeling warm touch of magnetism within,
each moment of time, a holy sabbath,
as bliss ignition, in our heart begins,
flowing thus in heightened rapture virgin.
God is love, He resides within, dear heart,
intimacy that will never depart,
being that love, pure and transcendental,
unconditional embrace, none apart,
as we become a living miracle.
27-April-2021
Just make believe
And your dreams will set you free…
Actually, it’s your sleep
And blissful dreaming that sets you free
In a la-la land of make believe.
The real world doesn’t require belief
It requires action
Eat or be eaten, fight or flight.
But dreaming is much more fun
Especially when someone else does your hunting.
This is the world of childish wonder
Of dreams projected onto reality
Of fears projected onto others
A world where I’ll grow up to become
A fireman, a healer, a Marxist rebel, a world savior.
This is the world of make believe
Where everyone follows their bliss
Into ever deeper sleep
A world where the biggest concern
Is, is my pillow soft or firm enough…
(8/21/24)
For too long we have been twirled about by mind
and we see now that we're still at the start line,
since thoughts orbit fears that grip us in their bind,
mirroring desire that let's us not align
with the pulse of innocence, joyful and kind,
being whispers of love that for love does pine.
In bondage to form and conditioned belief,
we're stirred by cry of soul, begging for relief.
Our body is merely dust, yet we are proud
of our ethnic group or method of worship;
religious intolerance, ignorance shroud,
employing rigid views, shooting from the hip,
doing more harm than good, cacophony loud,
denying all souls are forged from the same chip,
labelling God and fighting wars in His name;
dwelling in lower mind, which is a big shame.
Liking not what we see, yearning to be free,
as a rebel, a nerd, we renounce the herd,
simply choosing with throb of love to agree,
whereupon bliss within our pure heart is stirred,
and we’re then no longer tied to a mind tree,
for with whispers of conscience, soul has concurred.
Recognising the same sun shines upon all,
vaporised self is engulfed by a bliss squall.
Beyond belief, that's merely rooted in thought,
we imbibe God's love and light, which we cognise,
transcending fears and desires ego begot,
living in the now, ceasing to weigh and size,
reducing thereby feral cravings to naught,
beholding in wonder, bliss pulsations rise.
In time dissolved stillness, choosing to be still,
by God's bountiful grace, we heal and voids fill.
09-December-2022
_______________
What I believe Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Angela Tune
" (Two roads) diverged in a yellow wood and I choose the
the one less traveled by and that has made
all the difference. "
Quote by - Robert Frost
Ha... ha... have your rabbits got three legs? Okay we agree,
This was how my friends fooled me for my ways uniquely free;
When all answered, I' am fine - for the question 'how are you?'
I said: Alright or keeping well... though these meant the same too;
They stopped a bit; looked unblinking; as though something was wrong,
Don't, yet, birds of every species has a divergent song...?
Does, when a rivulet diverges from the river, rebel?
Can an inaccurately rung Angelus turn death-knell?
To turn a rebel a rivulet should chose her own path,
On such choosing she might, sure, earn many a rotten wrath;
Could any seed, frightened of death, ever resuscitate?
Could any chick failing to spread wings reach the flying state...?
Taking a new path is like Socrates choosing hemlock,
Nay, choosing an untrodden path is not such a deadlock;
Thinking out of the box or looking through another glass,
It's when I say a grass or lass an ass death comes, alas!
Discovery and invention, lo, stand in united,
Yet, to shake hand with a person, uniquely far-sighted...!!!
08 June 2024
My heart takes a deep breath
Soul floats to the south.
I care not, I am in the dream zone.
Ideas waft in and out of my semi-consciousness
I am lying on my tummy on a fluffy white blanket
Smack dab in the middle of a bunch of dandelions.
A honey bee is diligently working one of them.
I watch, entranced. A grasshopper walks by.
Memories come swiftly of things my sister and I did
In this backyard, in the fifties and sixties, before we found boys.
I was going to be Pippi Longstockings, a renegade, a rebel, a pirate.
Luckily, I have fulfilled this dream in some ways.
Through my paintings, cartoons, stories, and my poetry.
I would travel down the Nile and see the sphinx and the tombs.
Hieroglyphics would be read by me in a natural, surreal way.
It would be a hidden talent even I did not realize I had until now.
I would take fabulous photos of the castles on the Rhine River.
I would swim with the crocodiles in Africa; why? Who knows?
Maybe they don’t even live there. I smirk at this thought.
I was going to be an adventurer, an explorer. I watch a grasshopper.
When I was a child, lying out here, I knew...
I would become world famous, an actress, a movie star.
My life would be full of riches.
It was, but I did not realize then it was because of people, not things.
Snow is white
He was born in a rather narrow-minded town that had
strict rules for acceptable behaviour, no bars, no restaurant
serving alcohol and no public display of affection.
A Muslim scholar who came to this town by navigational
error, left in a hush, claiming the city was too Pakistani
Houses were painted white, or very light yellow no other
colours were allowed, a rebel, a communist painted his
house red, the law came down hard on him, said his house
was a fire hazard,
had to paint white over the red that made his dwelling look
like a diabetic ulcer.
When new people bought the house, they scrapped off
the old colour painted the house brilliantly white, only to
discover “white” was no longer a favourite colour.
Any colour would do but white.
Books and articles were written about how terrible the whites
500 years ago, were, colonizing nonwhite countries behaving
cruelly statues of that time were thrown into the sea, great noise
from the righteous people of the day.
The whites took to hating themselves in winter use self-tanning
cream and in summers sat so long time on the beach they got
wrinkled skin and cancers.
But not despair everything is in transition, like men who feel
like women cut off their es and wear frocks only to discover
nothing had been wrong with them, just being gay.
Too late for them, you might say, but it is also too late for us as
we gladly walk down the path in an oblivious haze towards
the bleaching of the bones.