Long Accumulate Poems
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It seems we've come up with numerous definitions,
For life, and what it all means.
From the biological to the philosophical,
And all the various strata in between.
The scholarly sciences, may include the aspects
That need to respirate, regulate, and replicate.
While philosophers might wonder how we
Facilitate, proliferate, or just deal with our hate.
Recently I've seen our evolution, along the
Political spectrum grow and accumulate.
Where fantasy has driven false narratives,
And chaos remained for those to speculate.
Will life now be defined by the social-economic,
Or will it divide our very structure again?
Since these interactions can certainly be the death of us all,
And life may never be the same as it has been.
Laying up Treasures
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
When I was but a young married man,
On occasion I’ve heard my mother say.
Son, you’ll never accumulate very much,
Until you discontinue giving so much away.
But inside me was dwelling a need or feeling,
That neither one could fully understand.
Why I’d take those things I labored for,
And place them in some other’s hand.
Now late in life I’ve remained the same,
I’m surveying some things I could share.
Finding each thing leaving me for another,
Makes Jesus smile for He is fully aware.*
*Matthew 2:40 KJV
"If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing!"
-Always Look On the Bright Side of Life by Eric Idle, from Monty Python
Words that come to mind when I think of this incredible man—
Kind, hilarious, loving, humble, silly, cute, utterly inspiring and true,
He makes everyone’s day no matter how gloomy or blue!
I admit, I fall hard into the pessimist’s pity potty,
Sometimes just struggling at the surface of many hot tears,
But this guy, he gently cleans the filth I accumulate with his words,
And with vivid colors only his strength can conjure,
He sketches a perfect rainbow on my hefty clouds on high
It is difficult to fathom how inspired I am by this remarkable poet
He is human like the rest of us, of course, but my,
He is as immortal to me as mortal can get
He will live forever in my heart with his golden words,
His sweet smile and his priceless, unfussy rhymes
Truly he deserves all the happiness in the world…
My heart goes out to you, Jack Ellison
My beloved poet, always, and forever
Your friendship means the world to me,
And you will not be leaving this heart,
Not ever, ever!!!
I want to make you laugh God
Have you ever laughed so hard that your belly hurts?
I want you to enjoy my poems because you deserve it God
God you know we earthlings always think we know what we are talking about
But a lot of times we have no inklings of what we debate about
We have a tiny idea of what we believe in
And we try to prove our point
But God, we only have just a little enlightenment
But we grab a hold of it and try to make it into a grand theory
God what about the time when we are so sure of what we are doing
That we begin to think that we are in control
Then boom - something goes amiss
And we call out to you “ help us”
And You come to our aid
So who is in control?
You
God , how about our belief in ourselves that we think we are so sufficient
That we think we can do all things
Make all things
Think of all things
-The grandeur of it all
We think we can make it all happen
In our systematic ways
We plan, organize, sketch out
Everything going down to the minute details
We have it going
But we forget that you are in charge of it
And we take the credit that you deserve
Like when we say we love you
But we don’t spend time with you
Or think about you
Or talk to you
Or show you
How many times God?
How many times we said that we will do that for you
But we put it off
We don’t have all the answers but we think we do
We don’t have any possessions but we think we have
We don’t know that
-the only possessions we have are stored up in heaven
We can accumulate them here on earth
To be stored by you
And You will show us how to get it
Do it, actualize it
You are the perfector
You will complete what you started in all of us
Organizer, Redeemer, Achiever
Accomplisher, Planner, Executor
You are all in all in us
Faithless, faithful, undecided
You are the Creator of us all
And you are forever faithful
Forever exalted and glorified
Forever Our All-Mighty, Absolute Being
Our Jehovah, Infinite Spirit, All-Knowing
Forever our Greatest King
Magnifier, Justifier, Amplifier
You are all
Oh, our Good Shepherd
We lift up your name
God you are
All
And here we thought we are all
That is my contribution for today
Hope you enjoy it
Will make you laugh more tomorrow
Love, your reserveless admirer
Insistent analyzer
Persistent assister, attainer, attempter
Forever love
-Yours
As we look into our hearts
May we know our sins
As we battle with issues in our lives
May we find solutions
Ooh, dear Lord, this is rare
Let the confessions begin
Into a heart that is willing
As we humble ourselves before you
May we be honoured by your presence
As we unify our nation
May we raise our existence
Ooh, dear Lord, let the holy spirit fall
Let is accumulate
Into the unbelievable
As we distinguish between humanity and racism
May it be questionable
As we battle with issues of religion
May we be respectful of one culture
Ooh, dear Lord, this is a master piece
Let it be
Into the unknown
At the cradle of my nightmares,
My future is a horror film,
I track my ghosts,
Like a junkie in withdrawal.
I am a true clandestine calamity,
A mass grave of silent suffering,
A candelabra of pain soothed by dirty money,
I hate the human race,
And I will never have a pet.
I am a loner addicted to silence.
I only write in the dark, to deathly sounds.
A mix of gloomy feelings,
I walk in the darkness of my imperfections,
My hands are no longer innocent,
Since I’ve handled weapons of war.
I am a child of the slums of the third world,
I know perfectly the orifices of misery.
Another damn sleepless night spent monologuing in the darkness of this cold room,
The devil covers his ears to the atrocities spilling from my confessions.
I’ve already used gunpowder
For a firework on the edge of legality.
I never agreed to sleep on an empty stomach,
I’ve risked my freedom since I was ten.
I’ve learned to walk among hungry beasts.
I’m already at war with my demons,
I know I’ll end up in the flames.
I know I have no right to trust a human being,
Being a slave to shine is impossible.
My enemies squat in my imperfect flesh.
I don’t smoke crack,
I don’t smoke cannabis,
I don’t snort cocaine,
I don’t drink alcohol,
I sometimes burn a few cigarettes.
I avoid psychotropics,
I’m not a poet,
Just a tormented mind,
Prisoner of infernal loops,
Where murder scenes repeat endlessly.
My tears stopped flowing down my cheeks
Since I saw my friend crushed by a logging truck.
I am an angry man with murderous impulses,
I commit suicide each time in this same nightmare that has repeated since my childhood.
I’m approaching fifty,
I’ve stopped meditating on the whims of the reaper,
I’ve stopped wandering in graveyards.
Let the universal force show mercy on my impure, tainted soul
By the poisons of lust,
I accumulate transgressions to have a throne in the furnaces of hell.
I don’t believe in paradise, but I know I’ll burn in the abyss’s celestial flames after my twilight.
A deep philosophical reflection in the ramblings of my delirium.
I hate the spotlights like those criminals on the run,
Too many regrets hidden in the closets,
A clean criminal record like the entrails of Christ’s mother.
I blaspheme to darken my divine fragment.
Ten in the night. The porch light flickers on, like a lighthouse in rural darkness. Healing begins with a door left open. An old lady at 90 sets the kettle to boil, chamomile steeping in amber pools of hope. The wooden sign leans against her window: Tea & Talk. Always Open to Anyone.
Seven nights of solitude. Cricket songs and empty chairs. Sometimes changing the world doesn't look like a movement. A cat winds between her ankles, purring questions into the cold night.
After a week, at ten in the night, footsteps are heard. A girl weeping, arms wrapped tight as winter coats wrapped around her broken dreams arrives. "Is this... real?” Someone to listen and offering Tea. The only currency that matters is presence. The old lady pours hot tea, with a smile of trust, warmth flowing from her heart to build hope and confidence, as she consoles the girl.
Desperate people finding solace come, one after another, now fifty. The space breathes with hopes, whispers confessions, sorrows, laughter and hope. Words are seeds….some fall on stone, others on fertile hearts. Truckers passing by with calloused hands cradle delicate cups. Widowers unfold photograph albums like prayer books. Teenagers flee late-night arguments, finding sanctuary in the old lady’s silent listening.
December blizzard is cold. Power lines snap like broken promises never to return. Shovels scrape against snow, lanterns bob through darkness. They won't let the place close. Community is not built….it is discovered. Solar lights on, generator humming, thermoses steaming. The warmest place in town glows with human constellation.
Spring arrives with its colourful glamour beautifully. Conversations spilling like wildflowers. Love multiplies when divided. Notes accumulate on old lady’s refrigerator, testimonies to the healing power of witnessed pain. A veteran sleeps through the night. A baby giggles for the first time. Someone chooses life over despair.
The movement spreads without manifesto or mission statement. Revolution sometimes whispers.
The heart's true home is where it dares to break open for all.
Ten PM chimes by Old lady,
warm light spills through winter dark,
tea steeps, door stays wide
Drip Drip Drip
A drop here and a drop there
They all add up, without any flair
Drip with a penny
Drip with a nickel
Drip with a quarter
Drip with a dollar
Over and over
This is how
Poets one day
Become rich enough to write and stay
With time to think and time to ponder
How mathematical compounding is such a wonder
Math and science and philosophical notes
Fate and destinies become very mote
We are, what we are
We will be what will be
With a little education
We can become more free
So I kiss the artistic mind that one day
Taught me compounding is here to stay
Notes: A DRIP = Dividend Re Investment Program, often offered by
Big companies to allow the small investor to accumulate shares in a company.
Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.
I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.
I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from embracing the old,
preparing for freshly brewed emotions.
Yet they deprive me at every dawn,
as new beginnings are always challenging.
Suffocating in this silent selcouth slumber,
life tries to call my bluff, when it knows,
I am the master of my masquerade.
My soul pleads with fate to usher me with belief,
but I can see death at my doorstep,
creating intrusive insecurities like termites,
eating away at branches of my sanity,
feeding upon my ordained Orphic glory.
Emotions are an interior mechanism,
so many remain fooled by my exterior,
but I'm tired of searching for salvation.
You who claim to love me,
gift me a scented candle made with your hands,
so its sentimental scent can bring me peace.
Take me to a place without a name,
without a label,
without judgment -
without suffering.
Unchain me from jeapordising January jitters.
Free me from meandering in misty meadows,
which have misplaced me in foggy morning sunshine -
bring me clarity.
These are not random thoughts, random poems,
because my ink is tired from trying to find new metaphors,
to supplement an abundance of alliterations,
portraying humble happy horizons.
Love can be a false emotion,
when we yearn for reciprocal ravishing redamancy,
but when was love ever equal or even fair?
I have no resolutions, just to breathe with ease.
Sometimes love's presence made me feel aesthetic,
but sometimes a badly drawn self portrait.
You can stay or leave, but do come back,
hold on, but not too tight that it chains my wings.
When I ascend, please, miss me,
so my spirit flies back to you.
Can you not see the irony?
We accumulate many reasons to die,
but search for only one reason to live.
Ask yourself which oxymoron are you?
Dying to live or living to die?
*Alexithymia
A person's inability to recognise or describe ones own emotions
* Redamancy
a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return
In my youth I walked alone
A man of muscle, mind, and bone
No heart to break, no love to shake me from my throne.
On my quest for greener grass
I would march resolutely past
A dream to be, a future me that couldn’t last.
In the corner of my eye
You placed yourself where I might spy
At every mile, a gentle smile I would pass by
As the repetition grew
In slowly recognizing you
So patiently you helped me see the wider view.
So much we accumulate
A world of stuff to captivate
In chains we’re bound, to drag us down beneath the weight
We walk where we don’t belong
Deceive ourselves that we are strong
Blind leading blind, so we but find our every wrong.
True, we tend to bend the knee
To worship all of this debris
Yet down inside, you open wide to set us free.
You called me out to follow you
You challenged me with what is true
A heart of stone remade your own to beat anew.
In my youth I walked alone
And followed where the wind had blown
No mystery, no destiny to call my own
And now that solitary trail
I once believed would only fail
Is now a road to your abode beyond the veil.
Our time passes quickly on,
And far too soon that time is gone
We need a place, we need a base to build upon.
And the older that I grew
So, all the more I surely knew
Is that indeed, all that I need is only You.