If you want to fly free
You have to let go
Of the things that bind you
To the ground you know
Useless possessions
Pointless chatter
Exchange them for
the things that matter
Stop trying to cover up
the natural true you
That paint sticks to feathers
Clogs them like glue
With gummed up wings
You cannot fly
So you will never be able
To take to the sky
What need of news
you can do nothing about
All it does is fill you
With hopelessness and doubt
And the weight of possessions
Keeps you on the ground
If you can grasp this
It's truly profound
Because it's hard to let go
"what ifs" fill your head
And you cling to your things
With worry and dread
Yet you dream of flying
Through the clear blue skies
So your day is filled with longing
And heart wrenching sighs
Let go and let god
Is a saying I've heard
You need to live by that
To fly like a bird
Floating on top of a rushing rapids
Not falling in, been taking antacids
Brain full of fog with my eyes underground
Surfing on static while laying around
A TV screen hisses with black and white streaks
Most int'resting thing that I've seen in weeks
Can't even put headphones into my ears
Sound has gummed up all the cogs and the gears
Ceiling fan slowly rotates about
Blades moving 'round as if they're in doubt
Tell me. what is this blankness I feel
Sometimes I don't think that I am quite real
An unreflective bodhisattva
nods to the unwashed dishes.
Once again I seek a daily liberation
from a chore long boondoggled.
Next a phlegmy mantra
gummed through spongy lips.
I sleep, I wake. I sleep, I wake.
The mug is perfunctorily rinsed,
I am aware of not being aware.
Sweetness comes in pink packets.
The sacraments are torn open
two at a time with habitual practice.
The ceremony proceeds.
The percolator bubbles a last breath.
Maya burps its body-dreams,
I pour black oozing bliss
into my cup
where it settles like mud
beneath
a lotus bloom of aroma.
My marmalade eyes
are viscous
lids sticky
gummed up
glazed over
the world is
sometimes imperceptible
sometimes impenetrable
nebulous
opaque in appearance
incomprehensible
indeterminate
indiscernible
enigmatic world
why is your
complexion so
indistinct
today?
(click on the picture to buy my poetry book!)
It was in the water
Where receptors were numbed
As currents of pain and pleasure
Were systematically being gummed
Blinded eyes gazed at silence
Forked tongues hissed at words
The machine making adjustments
Were the loud sounds players heard
Not for me, can't have
Move along little doggie, just get through
Suffering is your lot in life
Precious Blue can't always find, and rescue you
Words, sentences, mantra, belief
My narrative was alive......without....ME
Must hide self in the crowd
Where evil is not allowed
...........but where to hide
.................................when I must ABIDE
.......................................................in NOT.....ME!!!
Written by Trudy Schrader on 08/29/2020
Note: I swear, the healing process never ends. LOVE is always revealing areas in the heart that are cold and need the warm touch of caring love to make it whole and new again. This process is very difficult for me, but I will do the work so that I can be healed and maybe others can benefit from my journey. Wow! See!?! Melodrama....Lord, help me!
An unreflective Bodhisattva
nods to the unwashed dishes.
Once again I seek my morning
liberation by ways of a dark libation
Next a phlegmy mantra
gummed through spongy lips.
“I sleep, I wake. I sleep, I wake”
The mug is perfunctorily rinsed,
the stains of past desires
ring the rim like hungry ghosts.
I am aware of not being aware.
Ipso facto: I am aware,
but only in the cracks
between random thoughts.
Sweetness comes in pink packets.
The sacraments are torn open
two at a time with habitual practice.
A Zen-like work,
by rote and thought-free.
The percolator bubbles a last breath.
Like the Tathagata, I am truly gone.
An arm pours black oozing bliss
Into my mug.
A beatific smile
escapes from grungy features.
Pain is not painful
Until you fall in love
That moment you feel
a missing rib in your body
and honey water turns sour
When you wish just for a moment
Of freedom from earth
When your brain can't reason well
and your eyes can't see well
The time you enter the process
of transition
From old self to new self
Knowing the reality of life
Knowing that love is not real
It's a trick to cause you pain
One moment of joy
and years of pains
Love makes you wallow in regret
Where you find yourself in dark corners
Gummed to the wall waiting
For death to grace your soul
with eternal bliss
And eventually you
fall in love again
Knowing the terrible
Fate that awiats you
The Zweiback Warrior
Zweiback cookies – teething biscuits
Yucky, gnawed upon, gummed delights
Xeric surface absorbing wanton drool
Wielded, by the toothless cherub, in
Valiant fencing stance encumbered by
Unsteady footwork of diapered distress.
Tongue licking the blunted sword tip
Short sticky fingers grasping the hilt
Reeling under the self’s relentless
Quest to free the imprisoned.
Pursed lips immune to all assaults,
Open gates of tormented demon
Nourished by the wailing
Moans of twice baked relief,
Lulled into the whimpering
Kingdom of the succulent biscotti.
Jaws clenched on mercy’s mushiness
Ingesting its flavored fluids,
Holding the healing wand
Gripping it tightly lest it be lost.
Featureless, the ravaged cookie, is
Eased from the grasp of the
Duelist sleeping hand.
Champion of the
Battle for
A tooth.
7/12/2015
submitted to – Abecedarian – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
Beseech the wooden hip and eye
To paddle off and caper.
Beseech the Maxfold cat and stye
Forlorn with hairy Gator.
Bring not thy chesticle to bear,
Thy open arms to boot.
Beseeching here and everywhere
To hear old Amos flute.
'You can but not cumcumber me!'
He gummed in chitter-chatter,
And passing water from his knee
Knew something was the matter.
Alas! Alak! A Ladybird-
A lullaby in butter.
Beseech in me the rare absurd,
Not sane, not yet a nutter.
Stranded on the road, closed up tight in her shell
Too frightened to head out of the heavy traffic
I took the turtle home to make sure all was well.
She was hungry for she hadn’t eaten since a day
So I dug up four juicy earthworms and put in a bin
The first worm wiggled but the turtle didn’t prey.
We sat quietly and waited and waited and waited
Ants crawled across the pavement and we waited
Hummingbirds buzzed overhead and we waited.
Finally I noticed her eyes tracking a worm,
Slowly shifting her body in right direction
Snapped opened her jaws, picked up the worm
And gummed it to death as turtles lack teeth.
Was full after two worms, a bit in mouth like a cigar
Autism in turtles is a successful failure
Its shell, an amazing self-defense mechanism
Carry their homes and are always at home
Self sufficient mostly, long life, and endurance
Proving the proverb, “Slow and steady wins the race”.
** Inspired by a visit to Myrtle Beach State Park, SC (eastern box turtle
(Terrapene carolina carolina)
July 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
The beautiful ones are not yet born?
At least I know some who are dead.
We have just lost one!
Mandela Madiba of Republic of South Africa.
You African Leaders,
And aspiring ones,
What have you learnt from him?
For he never gummed on power he fought for.
You say you are irreplaceable
You are experienced and unchangeable,
You can fight, you are indomitable,
But I can tell you, you are wrong - unable.
Man should be different,
Learning from his mistakes and others.
If not then, what difference does he make?
Its high time you changed your attitude.
(c) Mwebesa Edson
1930s Dirranbandi Mucky eye fix
Coming back from bloody Cobar,
where the dust storms used to blow,
came the mucky eyed with Sandy Blight,
as the mucky eyed do go,
back in the thirties - forties,
Ning-a-Ning Joseph saw em, hah,
When ole man Wise took to fixing,
Mucky eyeballs, yes bloody sah!
Widdle in a bottle, swirl the mixture, sweet delight,
Add a little drop of Ainaseed, to kill the smell orright,
Splash it on the eyeball, let it trickle tickle there,
Just a widdle bit of seeing,
Till yer sight was bloody fair,
The mucky eyed no longer gummed up, & eyelid red,
just the trickle on the eyeball, fixed the mucky yucky head,
Ole wise was up 4 sainthood at the Black stump water hole,
A widdle bit of widdle cleans the eye and soothes the soul?
Don Johnson
The lucid stereo vomits archetypes
For all ages. Primitive vengeance escapes into light,
Blanketing the fables spread upon pages,
Hushed voices commingle into a murmur of fright.
Unto goblets raised, we praise scoundrels
Whom were dined with gods who've since fell.
Deceiving seas of dumb, lame sheep,
Goats grow like flies on a dung heap.
Let pompous pricks switch and move grooves
To lose mishapen dreams and cumbersome sleuths.
Butterfly wings gummed underfoot
Expound plumes of debris and ashen soot.
May we not be trampled under the foot
Of beasts so truly gruesome and be put
Into castes and cubicles and tombs
Fated to a life of doom straight from the womb.
A sterile conclave situates itself within
Bogs and ghastly hogs with rotten vision.
Stomachs bloat with bread and wine,
Groveling shamelessly until the end of time.
Charcoal polished fingernails poke the clouds,
Gun metal arms staunch and concrete,
flex under the sun.
Chiseled gray palms clasp tightly,
shelter gummed pavement .
Still,praying hands protect Charleston Harbor.
Structual magnificence.
Steel Beauty.
A small piece of Cooper River Bridge history.
http:/ravenalbridge.net
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