Best Regressions Poems
Line of inquiry:
"here I am in human form, but it was not always quite so earth is not the only planet I’ve been to through past life regressions I definitely know"
Flashbacks flicker of images unknown,
wandering in gardens of cosmic scents.
Beyond this existence we're not alone,
as past is seen through Deja Vu events.
This form is only flesh and bone contents.
Soft soul knows this is no permanent home,
yearning to return where it once did roam.
In silence, spirit attempts to transcend,
farther above twilight's galactic gloam.
Travelling towards paths that never end.
here I am in human form
but it was not always quite so
earth has been the only I've been to
through past life regressions I definitely know
----------
Sometimes flashes of my childhood years
would hover on my mind...images of a multiverse, of cosmic dwellings once
labeled me a gypsy, a forest nymph or one warrior dared --- these names blessed by Grandma as guides in my youth.
Somehow, through the blue of all adult evenings this life could hold, a quest to reach the highest flight of agape--- that supreme love for a God and neighbor--- flames my reason for being ,
that gifting foliage the kindness to let it row freely in brief span of seasons empowers me... like so, honoring the canticles of man's fervor for God by sharing endowments with kin humbles this heart: and through the full consent of allowing myself to access this Source high higher in loving all there is,
unconditional it may seem---
Reminds me of this pilgrim's quest to
attain agape by living in the present, in the now ,
butressed through a belief so radiant from my inner view---
this daily salve leading me to divine
yet existential ways--- a climb where nectar
of pure love grants my center immeasurable peace--
my spirit becoming shapeless, eternal, shiftless on this earthly ground,
my own multiverse circling inside my being.
“Here I am in human form but it was not always quite so. Earth is not the only place I’ve been to though past life regressions definitely know.” -
Unseeking Seeker
I wish I could recall other times and
places where undoubtedly I’d been.
Beyond us are universes?
Can we even imagine
how many there might be?
My body may have
been different,
but I was
always
me.
Life means I can talk to my friends and others,
When the untravelled sea fills with brothers,
Pleasure rushes the uninhabited areas we just don't sail,
And when we semiotically emit our meaning, we will prevail;
Freedom rings with resonance resounding and pervasive,
No need for more traditional others to be abrasive,
No bears or wolves, no chides, jibes, and no probes obtrusive,
Your identity is your construct, your speech is conclusive.
And my books! Alas my books. They proffer so such contentment,
A breadth of knowledge with no suggestions delinquent,
Nor are there any accusers to accost,
My mind and spirit which upon some can be lost,
Possibilities endless, bringing depth of character,
They glint and glide, swimming in grammar;
Multiple amounts of information councel my hesitation,
Brimming particulars restrain inhibition.
But oh my computer: How elegant is she!
Believing in my easy registrations as well as my errors to be;
Such possibilities, moulded so neatly into my space,
Without the communal glare of uniformity’s trace;
Personalised desktop, memory and input method,
It accepts me unquestioned with no staff or flogging rod;
I program to set the user interface alight,
With the functionality and procedures of the user’s plight.
However, I can also give myself my own system,
Personal software from my own inclination;
Knowing some designers do not have in hand,
The shortcuts that only I seem to understand;
A software engineer’s god complex should not surface,
The digital space is a privilege to influence, place;
I love determining the screen and its sounds,
Where freedom of knowledge and data abound.
But the gift of poetry delights and ignites,
Hurtful regressions lull in its sight;
Its credibility only ever stoops to concede,
That only your introversion may expression impede;
Language caressed, dignity nursed,
You never need to be at all reimbursed;
Its haters are silent for fear of rebuke,
As truth, imagination and love are its hook.
Listen up.
This world is full of things we can't control.
It will eat you up and swallow you whole.
We live in a world of hatred and depression,
racism, users, abusers and aggression.
This is not about your power or your right for,
or the country that chooses to fight war.
It is not about disease or global warming,
or about the religious masses swarming.
This is not about drugs or the economy,
or your political autonomy.
It is not about Socialism, Communism, or capitalism,
or your substitution of a euphemism.
This is not about your possessions,
or about the the worlds regressions.
Its not about the young or the old,
or about the truth untold.
It doesn't matter if you're female or male,
or if you live in a country where women have to wear a vale.
It doesn't matter your race or creed,
if your rich or poor, we all still bleed.
This is about all of us coming together,
and forgetting about the stormy weather.
This is about nothing, yet everything,
This is about us as a human being.
Its about what makes us unique,
and the different languages we speak.
This is about us being the same,
and not pointing the blame.
It is about the countries that fight,
coming together to unite.
Divided this world is a very rough place,
but we should be united as the human race.
If we all just do our part,
then maybe the peace will start.
Peruse the literary discourse; illusion from reality divorce
Objective criticism with conscientious rigor your tour de force
Educate yourself on each antiquated style and archaic source
Train your enterprising eyes, every truism endorse and apt allegory reinforce
Recon the lexicon for cultural anomalies and idiosyncratic expressions
Your probity use to underscore trite confessions and trivial regressions
Peel away each banal artifice; to the arrogant that hauteur grant no concessions
Audit the amateur-shadow poets, showering disapproval on their indiscretions
Lacquer and emboss the verses that with creativity and innovation bridge the generational divide
Attentively nourish the nuances and imbibe the endearing witicisms that will abide
Careen through the light poems; cavort through each limerick; caress every soliloquy in stride
Enshrine the masterpieces with laudatory epilogues; let their inspiration your literary path forever guide
Have
you
ever
flown
higher
from
astro
projections
In
learning
the
lessons
of
loves
timed
regressions
beginning
with
intention
of
a
time
in
replacing
a
life
worth
living
a
free
spirit
lined
in
replenishment
rewinding
with
rebirth
refined
Space Bound. By Eminem....song
Jan2012
By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.
I have cheated my fears alright,
I have broken up with my doubts uptight.
I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.
I got engaged to my faith last night,
I married my dreams at the sight of first light.
I am not afraid to get up today,
I am not afraid to wake up to another day today,
I am not afraid to open my eyes and see today,
I am not afraid to climb out of bed today.
I am ready to walk into the gardens in the heavy rains,
I am ready to open my nose and smell of mud from wet terrain
I am ready to face the world all alone,
I am ready to do anything to walk up the stepping stone.
I am ready to say anything to anyone,
I am ready to talk to anyone under the sun.
I am ready to yell from mountain tops,
I am ready to dive from ravine drops.
I am ready to walk for a cause,
I am ready to run to protect environmental laws.
I am ready to touch taboo objects & subjects
I am ready to work on regressions of y on x
I am ready to understand tangled issues,
I am ready to wipe all tears with tissues.
I am ready to taste tropical fruits,
I am ready to chop, boil and eat bamboo shoots
I am ready to jump out from a moving truck,
I am ready to pull my allies from loads of muck.
I am ready to be creative again,
I am ready to write and spill out my joys and pain.
I am ready to sing and hear my own songs,
I am ready to correct my own wrongs.
I am ready to throw a stone afar,
I am ready to play my own music for all with the door ajar.
I am ready to write notes about me,
I am ready to put them up for all to see.
I am ready to whistle whilst I walk down the alley,
I am ready to bring out tunes and them create verbally
I am not afraid any more,
I am not afraid any more.
Reflections at Midnight
while spending sleepless hours
like they were nothing but small change.
By day my mind swells
with that old '50s song I heard
down at the antique mall,
and keeps repeating it
over and over.
Then at night my brain
has to obsessively
has to obsessively
recycle every trivial event
happening in my life
and repeating that routine
over and over.
Admission to this movie
is free to adults.
I envy the children
sleeping so soundly
sleeping so soundly
after a day of play.
As for me, I ask myself,
when do I get to sleep?
It feels like I'm sucked
into a whirlpool
of infinite dreams,
like I'm caught
in a cycle of infinite regressions,
in a cycle of infinite regressions.
I smiled when I woke from my dreams
Vanquished is the dark tormentor
My dreamscape has refreshed, it seems
And the nightmares cannot enter
From Native American brave
To a mystery woman’s grave
In past-life regressions, I’ve learned
Not to be overly concerned
When I woke from my dreams, I smiled
The dark tormentor is vanquished
It seems my dreamscape has refreshed
No entry now for the nightmares
And those things I’m learning right now
Will help in the future somehow
*September 3, 2020
For Charlie Messina’s Charonnet Poetry Contest
"here I am in human form, but it was not always quite so
earth is not the only planet I’ve been to, through past life regressions I definitely know"- Unseeking Seeker
Does the soul shapeshift?
Is reincarnation a myth or reality?
We cannot dismiss the possibility of the soul,
entering another body after death
or been resident in other planets or parts of the world,
as a bird, beast or a living form lower than humans.
The law of karma and the revolving wheel of life
point to such plausible probabilities.
Life, we conceive as a journey, long or short
starting with birth, passing through growth
and ending in inexorable death.
Though we do not know what waits
at the final bend, I like to imagine
after death, our soul emerges lustrous,
washed clean of all stain and dirt
and in matchless splendor shall shine.
Leaving the carcass of the body behind to rot,
it passes into an immortal state.
Then joins with the infinite being-
the omnipresent and the omniscient.
Just as the desert kisses the mirage in vain,
our search after peace and happiness
shall not bear fruit until our souls, merge with God-
the supreme power, eternal and indestructible!
I dream of a time when angels with torches
will light my path down glazed hall ways,
and lead me to a realm, resonant with the heavenly choir.
where matchless joys unfurl and grace shall never leave.
Among flickering candles, I will see God
on His Heavenly throne,
bolstered by cherubs and seraphs
where haloed saints and blessed spirits surround.
With extended hands He will say-
“Come my daughter, join the heavenly throng,
Partake of perpetual glory,
never more to droop in sadness
but to rejoice in eternal bliss”
for Andre
Casting out my sonic deep spell to you,
dreaming over water on the opposite side
of my ocean, you were the flip side of my coin,
and even if sometimes, love does not last,
one hopes to become less cynical. Romeo,
in another incarnation, scaling the wall of my
chaste seclusion, or rattling the shutters
of some house I used to live in, its north
windows scummed over with salt and spit,
the wind howling its dissonant script, eyeball
to eyeball with the sea, Lovers we were
in past lives the seers say, and we are ending
now. No more preceding me like a young prince,
will you place your cloak to soften the steps
to the pedestal from which my head flew grinning,
spitting final syllables, or, leaping to your feet
will shout to save this Salem sorceress.
Guinevere to your Arthur, did I merit your
trust, if indeed I am your idea, or any-
one's idea of who I was yesteryear,
and will be tomorrow?
In a dream of bare, I awoke
In the blared walls, it misspoke
The winds of Auria eluded in the cascading windows which then provoked
Envisions of Auria descended through the glistening saint
Without a flair, I discerned a haint
Auria wandered in a stage of fright,
Meanwhile, invading my dreams of spite
Her nebulous words echoed in my mind
‘What a faint creature, so misled by fracture’
They mellowed as it prospected my perceptions
As she posited her hand on my exceptions
Envisions of Auria repulsed its regressions
She was my fate of progression
She rehashed my reflections
A memory of infliction
She wandered off into a glistening spade
Relinquishing her jades
I scrutinized her windows of glade
I lingered against her pallid hair
Then, woke up in tedious wear
‘Auria, a lady of fate, yet dart of spade’
Such assimilation wandered in the glistering gape
My thoughts were so heavy, yet so light, though seemed rather bright
They were my reminiscences of Auria”
Zoological mental state.
Yesterday's news brings trouble to today's date.
Xylophones ringing playing tunes of my sorrow.
Willing to give it all for a moment I can borrow.
Venus Flytraps eating away at my soul.
United we once were, I was whole.
Tragedy promoted our separation.
Scenes of lucidity remain of our immense devastation.
Responsive to avail.
Quietly singing to your lost soul as my eyes swell.
Picking away at cotton from this worn out sweater.
Oscillating thoughts, the pain is far from better.
No sunshine to illuminate the present.
Malice lingering in my heart is a vicious weapon.
Like a grenade awaiting explosion.
Kin on the branches of my family tree have ceased motion.
Juxtaposed to bitter benefits.
Impossible for a valued object to ignite any sentiment.
Head spinning like a whirlwind.
Grenadine mixed with tequila doesn't slow the spin.
Fishing for hope in a pool of disparity.
Enduring the loss of a creature of such rarity.
Descending to a place where the sun has no feasible presence.
Crippled by the memory of your warm essence.
Baffled by the mystery of life's lessons.
A life without you is one of constant regressions.
Whether or not you fall on your own face
cannot erase what
you thought was the biggest waste
of all you've got
to now replace
and what you're without
is the love you made
with me
What you've chosen
to belong in
didn't bring back all your prose;
petals of flowers to line your doors
As anyone can see you've tripped the line
Surrender, lest you be decieved
by your design
Undo the anchor from yourself
and face the waves of your regressions