Long All but Poems
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Atlantis rises
Under the water a city floats.
Invisible walls protect the people from the ocean.
Above the waves, nobody knows of the city below.
The worshipers lay flowers before their Gods to show their devotion.
For centuries this city has stood against the wave of incoming tides.
For generations its people have tried,
To find a way to live above and not just accept being uprooted;
But there are those would claim to rule,
So Atlantis must remain secluded.
The Atlantian’s feel trapped inside their sphere.
They want to find land; they want a new home and a new frontier,
But this city is the hand they have been dealt.
Even in this united community, there are those who cannot be helped.
They plot and scheme and think of change,
But they cannot wait to see that day;
For they are impatient,
So they act on instinct.
Not willing to discuss, they move with mistrust
And without a sound, they blink…
They disappear and gather in secret to speak.
Security seek them, but the protectors are weak.
The time has come to leave this place!
At night they leap into action, a war on the base.
Guns are waved, orders are shouted;
Shock and awe are a necessity, as to not be doubted.
Stolen ships of exploration;
Part of the human spirit has been taken.
But the community comes together to unite around those who remain.
They still think about those who decided to leave,
But the minutes soon turn into days.
Soon those who left are all but forgotten;
Life moves on without a mention of them.
All that which they stole has been replaced.
Years later a city rises from beneath the waves,
To appear before the world; a mystery unravels.
The people who never existed have found a way to travel.
How did they survive beneath the sea all these days?
With magic and machinery, they found a way.
A future voice; an alien being.
Time travel; all knowledge available to be seen.
As the city grows to reach the land,
The ocean is its arm; the city is its hands
And as the hand rises, the people multiply.
The city continues to grow until it reaches the sky.
Now the ocean is unseen, the land is no longer green.
Everywhere the people look, they only see concrete.
The view disappears;
Sky scraper towers.
Humans have advanced through the years,
But gone are all the flowers…
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
My love for you is wider than Victoria Lake
And taller than the Empire State
Now, I could give you more than that
So surely you want me back
Is it a crime? Please tell me, if it’s a crime?
That I still want you
And I want you to want me, too
I wake up at night with you on my mind
Your soul passes through mine all the time
When I realize that you’re not in my life
Warm, salty tears flow from my eyes
My life feels pointless without you here
Every night I manage to shed a few tears
I’ve been in love with you for a whole seven years
But I’m “All Cried Out” over you
The thing is, you really have no kind of clue
Though, it’s not hard to see that you don’t really want to
In my world, only you
What would I do for your love?
No, no, no! The question is
What I would not do?
My friends wonder what is wrong with me
Cause I’m in a daze, from your love you see
I just had to let you know
Got a thing for you and I can’t let go
Reminiscing to “Have You Ever” by Brandy
I wonder what I gotta do to get you in my arms
What I gotta say to get to your heart
I wish you’d understand how I need you next to me
Trying to figure out why you don’t feel the same
Has got me losing sleep
I mean, I look in your eyes and lose myself
With you I always put my salt on the shelf
Cause I know that together we could be beautiful
But you’re not willing to let your feelings go
With each day, my love for you grows
But, you don’t care, I’m sure
You might just appreciate it in all but, I need more
Cause I wanna “Rock With You”
And maybe “Take It To The Top With You”
I just wanna love you, baby
Always thinking of you daily
When you come my way
You brighten each and everyday
With your sweet smile
You really are my everything
And you truly are my happiness
Something special I see in you
I can’t find in anyone else
You make my life complete
Because of you I can’t sleep
A special part of me
And only you hold that key
Though, I only want the best, it’s true
I can’t believe the things I’m willing to do for you
There’s no need to hold it back anymore
I find there’s nothing I won’t do for your love
“I Keep Holding On”
Cause the love I have for you runs so strong
SO PLEASE REMEMBER THIS FOR ME
When you think you can’t go nowhere
My front door, and love, will always be here
Or when life treats you unkind
Please feel free to drop by anytime
Form:
It was as real a fear as any that one could encounter.
Fear is torment, and comes with the purpose to intimidate and eliminate. I have encountered the fear of punishment and fear of bodily harm. I have feared darkness where one is at a loss of his surroundings.
As a child I was terrified of polio shots administered once a year.
There are fears that come and go, and we learn to adjust and adapt. There are myriads of phobias and fears that threaten us all, but there is a fear I wish to share. It is a fear with which I struggled and have had to confront, conquer, and dispatch.
I fought for several years until I conquered and overcame 'the fear of failure'. This fear did not accompany me at birth as if I inherited it from ancestors. I created conditions and aspirations that painted pictures of accomplishments and achievements whereby I dared not to be anything less than the master of all my hopes and dreams. I could not accept the normal or the mundane. I believed that I would excel no matter what. However, I came to realize that I was being captured and imprisoned by my own mind set. I was becoming obsessed and driven to avoid what I perceived as an unacceptable life, and thereby becoming afraid of what might become a reality. Thus the 'fear of failure' in reality reduces one's abilities and capabilities.
When I released myself from the drip of such a fear, I became free to let go and let me be the best me that I could be without trying to please and convince me as well as others of how wonderful I could be. It was a fear from which no one else could emancipate me. God's wisdom and grace granted me the sweet freedom from the fear of failure.
09132017 PS Contest, Fear 2, Debbi Guzzie
After the big bang in space you hang and hang
Getting ready and steady before our history began
Beating a couple of a billion stars to become the Sun
Molding the ashes of earth for the descent of Man
What was your name before we gave you our own?
What was it like the morning of that first dawn?
Did you see our ancestors crawl out of the sea?
Did they acknowledge you, even as they roamed free?
While other planets were too cold or too hot
You made sure earth was a well-ventilated cot
You gave light and warmth just the right dose
A little less or more and humanity would never have arose
Life in abundance, from microbes to the great dinosaurs
Many creatures of the like, when the world had no doors
Then you got rid of the dinosaurs, to save us from harm
That was the plan, so that our turn could at last come
You know which day; the first human stepped on the ground
A great evolution hybrid, compound of your compound
Did he thank you for the water he drank and the air he breathed?
Or for that flower he picked for the first woman he kissed
And when humans became the most dominant species
You guided them to cross the most dangerous of seas
They conquered the world; from ice age to industrial age
But for you it was just another turn of a simple page
They divided the world into nations and races
You watched as they discriminated those of darker faces
They forgot that you polished every creature with a unique shade
And only Mother Nature can answer for what she made
Where were they when you reduced earth’s temperature?
Who was present when you designed life’s nomenclature?
When you painted the sky blue without using a brush
Doing everything to perfection without any rush
Yet we walk around proud, as if there is no extinction
Self appointed custodians, with portfolios of distinction
Finding our refuge inside high walls and banking halls
Staking our immortality by the words of ancient scrolls
We have the theory of it all but it’s not enough
For we have not traveled to the last galaxy above
To answer the mysteries surrounding your birth
To understand why you chose to support life on earth
What keeps you going, what’s beneath your core?
What else do you have for us in store?
Is there an afterlife after we die? Oh great life supporter !
Does our conscious live on in a land of endless laughter?
I was working cattle with a crew a little south of Muleshoe,
When I watched a horse work with perfection and grace.
I said "pardon me gent, no offense is meant,
But your horse is the smartest thing on this place."
He broke out in a grin and scratched at his chin,
“Name is Bob, I'll tell you the story if you've the time."
I looked at the crew and said "We're about through,
You can tell me over tequila and lime."
"My grandpappy , Jason , was from the Permian Basin
And cowboy'd where it was dusty and hot.
And I'll tell you son when it's all said and done,
That bunch from Odessa was a hard gamblin’ lot
"Now three fingered Willy owned a stud and a filly
And played poker whenever he could.
One day Willy met Jason, from the Permian Basin,
And they locked in a game of seven card stud.
"Things had gone badly and Willy looked sadly
At the money he had left on the table.
He could ante it all, but couldn't raise or call,
So he offered the stud from his stable.
"Now the stud's name was Gyp, smart as a whip,
And he was standing just outside the door.
Willy treated him like dirt and hit him with a quirt,
So the thought of a new owner pleased Gyp for shore.
"And so there was Jason, from the Permian Basin,
Holding two Aces, two jacks, a Queen and a Four.
Willy wasn't saying which cards he was playing,
But Gyp could see three Kings through the door.
"He had to act fast if he was ever to get past
Being treated like an old worn out shoe.
He burst through the door, knocked the lamp on the foor
And nuzzled Jason as past him he flew.
"After Gyp was gone and the lights came back on,
Jason looked at the cards he was holdin'.
Gyp had given him a third Ace and he settled it in place,
And knew Willy would certainly be foldin'.
"So Gyp teamed with Jason from the Permian Basin,
And he sired many a colt in his time.
The one I am ridin', there just ain't no hidin,
Is as smart as Gyp was in his prime.
“How did Gyp get that Ace that he put into place?
I get asked that question wherever I go.
I think you'll agree that Gyp was smarter than me
So I always answer "How the hell should I know?' "
Well, I listened to the story in all of its glory
And drank my tequila with lime.
I live in Texas, it's true, and I think like you do,
Now I guess I've heard it all in my time!
August 26, 2016
For Contest Unhinged
How am I doing
Well thanking you very much indeed
For being kind enough to ask
Because I am doing just fine
In fact I can't tell a lie i am actually
way far better than that bordering on
great
Because my business is downright
booming at the minute
To the point I have had to stop taking
bookings as I am now fully booked
up till Christmas
And the reason why you may well ask
well is due and down to this
You see what I do for and earn my living
as my proffesion and business is
I am a fully qualified certified card carrying
Clown
So much some of the very best in the
business which you may or may
not have heard of
Like for example Sideshow Bob and
Ronald McDonald who actually based
a lot of their own act and performance
on material they stole off me
But they have all but since gone to
ground so now I am all but the last
standing remaining Clown
Due to the dwindling amount of work
after COVID -19 rules etiquette and
social distancing ensued
The best excuse money can buy
when all else other's used have failed
thus far since the classic good old days
of my dog eat my homework
And left them without means to
earn a steady income to support
them in order to pay their bill's and
lifestyle they had become accustomed to
But hey at least this story has a happy
ending and they didn't want and go
without for very long
Because blessed with the particular
skillet they garnered and possessed
They simply just went joined signed
up and pledged allegiance to and
became a fully fledged member of the
Clown Union
Because as everyone full well knows
Clown's are the star's and reason why
people choose go to the Circus in the
1st place
And politics if nothing else is in all
but name the greatest Circus on earth
Only difference being although littered
with clown's these one's have or feel
no need
To slap and adorn their face in
makeup or wear a funny customized
suit
Because they are and their act and
material on which it is based upon is
in itself funnier than hell
But whereas Circus clown's wear big
shoe's for comical affect
These here clown's wear big boot's
in order so they can fill them up to
brim of their stetson hat
After the pockets of their shinny designer
bespoken suits look like they have
$100 handkerchief hanging out all
of them
My Pet Poems, Max
I hopped onto Craig’s List, made a phone call.
Next day, with a royal blue, nylon carrier, which had a small, zippered door, sitting on the back seat ready, we drove an hour southeast for this scrawny boy — white with beige/blonde markings on his back and,too, on his amazing, static-charged, flying ears. The first short-nosed dog I’d ever gotten, with quite an underbite.
The couple taking our $100 for this shih tsu told us: well, he’d not done well on their farm; was bullied by the other dogs; and was fearful of horses.
In turn, I thought: well, who wouldn’t be? This tiny, white fluff of a boy with that pronounced, huffing smile, all teeth from chin to nose. I told Jim on the drive home, “The funniest thing I ever saw.”
The vet record the couple gave us was fraud —no such vet. And, apparently, Max had a nerve disorder, too,which sent him into a fit of physical contractions and screaming at any point of any excitement. “He is one for the medical books,” our own vet said, as we tried every approach to help him. He suffered in those fits, as our ears and alarm for him did each and evoery time for over three years, with us finally stopping the meds, simply going to embrace him gently, saying softly, “Max! Max, jt’s all right...”
Now, some several years later, the fits are no more...I try not to, but I wonder what horrors he knew on that farm: if the bullying dogs bit him when he screamed? And if the couple tried kicking him out of his fits with their heavy farm boots? My intuitions all but saw it. Oh...
This little boy, who became the shadow figure at my feet... like his ancient Chinese-bred ancestors, lying guard before the holy places, and taking off to bark away any possible predators at the door; and, too, lying half-wakeful aside their sleeping monks or the town’s children in case some monster rose out from a dream, or some other need indicated a command.
Then, when Gigi came, he became instantly a big brother, as a dog will do it, he always abdicated as she insisted on being so at my side, in her little princess way of wedging her way between. Thus, Max has taken to Jim’s affections and shadows him. The boys there. The girls here. Affection throughout the room!
********. *********. ********. ********
(c)sally Young eslinger 12/23/20
Always Thanks be to God
Many a poet I know a fool
acting like they know-it-all
many a poet I know a tool
acting like "Mr Poet-all"
unknowingly showing me
their knowledge of poetry
has boundaries surrounding
ideas rebounding around
their impounded grounds
only seeing the same repeatedly
nothing new unfortunately
forever under lock and key
belittling anything new they see.
As a poet I'm not especially traditional
more so "special" writing additional
my raw and new to poetry style
unlike those into poetry awhile
so can I now pick the thoughts
of a traditional poet know-it-all
I believe to be caught in restriction walls
appearing to parrot what taught in schools
see if I perceive conviction in their cause
or robotic perspective their memory stores
too Inspect credentials for signs set in stone
content or unambitious toward the unknown
should I see respect or a moody moan
for new styles outside their own zone
Seemingly their priority is to teach all to try to be
writing unoriginally prevent the mind think free
in a strictly stricken view I see crippling you
never trying new or seeking something else to do
you have regulations on how creativity is written
preventing inspiration thus so negatively driven
speculating with unchallenged repetition
as though been tutored to a limit
you're now failing to ascend merited
having starved all but within it.
So please respect my detected inclination at play
but poetry is a creative artform not set in its ways
and those paved paths you pace and wear thin
were once unpaved before their now adored placing
so shouldn't a creative artform progress and not stay there
wouldn't it go on new quests paving unpaved or
invent realise and find in amaze ways new spaces
not be assigned a confined station like railways
instead seek to new roads or train to fly the skies
cus a closed off mind concealed in a cocoon
denies the butterfly wings the room
like a inverted narrow mind blinds clues
let's preserve and branch from the lay of the track
if poetry stays then poetry slacks but if adapts
poetry won't wear weak crumble and crack
recycling the same will only sink in to the black
I don't want to conform to the common or normal
because I see it as a creative short fall.
So why refuse new styles when you could embrace all poetry?
are you a poet or are you a phoney?
1. This ole world is cavalcading escalading, towing down;
Falling down into the premises of unusualness;
Solid confines to the missions hell bent;
Loss in its shame, borrowing time;
Everyone everywhere is swallowing sin;
While the naysayers keep welcoming them in..
Chorus:
Spinning, and turning and whirling of things;
Tell me God what does it bring;
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
Up above my head;
2. Image now, how would it be, could you be free;
Left alone drinking miscalculated teas;
Raisin cane and eat manna breeze from the trees;
What does it mean is it a dream?
And all these things again, mention above;
Where is t he love?, what? where is the love?
Chorus:
Spinning, and turning and whirling of things;
Tell me God what does it bring?
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
Up above my head;
3. Missing mountains and trail condescending;
No one is gathering everyone meandering;
What must I do to love and embrace you;
Shovel in my hand standing in the sand;
Feeling the heartbreak of mankind demeanor;
Leaving hatred in a container of oven cleaner;
Chorus:
Spinning, and turning and whirling of things;
Tell me God what does it bring?
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
Up above my head;
And all these things again, mention above;
Up, up above my head, up above my head;
I'd rather be living than dying dead;
Heaven is where I want to lay my head;
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
4. I'd rather be living than dying dead;
Heaven is where I want to lay my head;
Mysteries and non compliances and misguided judgements;
All but a dream, every hates no love in their hearts see what I mean;
I have a motion that we won't judge them;
Chorus:
Spinning, and turning and whirling of things;
Tell me God what does it bring?
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
Up above my head;
And all these things again, mention above;
Up, up above my head, up above my head;
I'd rather be living than dying dead;
Heaven is where I want to lay my head;
All these things I've mentions above;
Up, up above my head;
Written word by James Edward Lee 1974
Arranged music by James Edward Lee & The Corinthian
From demo album "The World May End Tomorrow" 1970,1974,2017 (c)
Character.
That's where the biggest measurements,
truest tests of worth
should lie.
And yet, 'tis not so.
Sometimes, mostly, I believe
that it's indeed enough.
That being a good man
is enough to keep me afloat.
Sometimes, rarely, . . .
I don't.
How many good men die?
How many great people, nice guys,
saintly women, shining paragons of humanity -
are shunned?
People don't always look at you
with virtue in mind,
don't gaze through honor's eyes;
too often they look through you, into you,
to what you can do for them.
Too often they choose,
not to see the real source of light in front of them,
but instead just the glow of fool's gold;
warping your worth to mean usefulness
instead of selflessness,
utility instead of altruism.
Or they misread you entirely;
focusing solely on your looks,
or your wealth, or your mannerisms,
your attitudes;
one is chosen, only one is seen -
the one made to blemish and demean.
Very few gaze on the whole picture,
take in the whole work;
these are those you treasure.
The ones, also, of value,
the ones who are what they claim
and claim little more than living
in a respectable way.
But still, in this life,
character matters oft too little;
gathers all but nothing corporeal.
In the end, one must make a choice;
tangible wealth, or wealth of pride?
What matters to one more -
the character of the substance,
or the substance of the character?
I strive to continue
to believe that great people are there;
that who you are
makes a damn bit of difference.
But throughout that strife,
ever am I haunted, shadowed,
by one ceaseless question.
How many good men die?
That's it. That's what I want to know.
That's what follows and taunts me.
How many of them fall, without ever knowing
just what they've meant to those they've helped -
those they've served, protected, assisted, befriended?
Whether it was a much-needed pat on the back,
picking up a dropped cane, searching for something lost;
or something bigger -
a life given, an oath fulfilled,
a love or a friendship began and striven for -
how many never believe they've made a difference, however slight,
never realize what they truly were?
How many good men die,
having once or more asked a question of their own -
am I a good man,
was I a good man-
without their answer?