Long Analyze Poems
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Humdumpty was an analyst, a Cambridge Ph.D.,
A noted bio-atomist, whatever that might be.
Indeed, from earliest childhood it was his single aim
To analyze no matter what might enter his domain.
He analyzed his father's watch and next the neighbour's cat.
Ah! Little more was seen or heard of Felix after that.
Astounding learned pedagogues, hard pressed to keep his pace,
Humdumpty grew up daily--in knowledge if not grace.
And then at university his intellectual power
Decimated Einstein and the works of Schopenhauer.
With ease that was amazing he romped a Double First,
And yet, for all his learning, nought quenched his burning thirst.
Despite the storm, and tumult that marked his inner life,
Humdumpty found the leisure to woo--and win--a wife.
He loved her--Oh! so dearly, his idol and his joy!
Alack! How oft our dearest 'tis we ourselves destroy.
One day in stormy weather he raised his eyes above,
And posed himself the riddle: "What constitutes her love?"
One night--to angels' weeping--the dark thought seized his mind:
"By scalpel and analysis the answer I shall find."
Full soon she took a sleeping draught, and when the time was due,
He set about his gruesome task, inspired by love so true.
How tenderly, how lovingly, he cut into her heart.
With what profound emotion he set his spouse apart.
To isolate that molecule in which all love resides
He scrutinized each corpuscle, and did much else besides.
All data was computerized, and ere a while had passed,
A reasonable hypothesis was imminent at last.
How tantalizing is the truth, how far--and yet, how near!
'Twas in the corner of his eye--and then would disappear.
It dawned at last upon him, his efforts would prove vain,
Unless he somehow managed to join her up again.
Of every art that served this end he tried the whole range through.
He first tried biophysics--and his last resort was glue.
Alas, alas, Humdumpty! There is a fateful law:
Some things men set asunder no mortal can restore.
They did not need a hangman or Madame Guillotine.
Before another week had passed, he died of bitter spleen.
Now some say he's in Heaven, and others, he's in Hell.
I'm not a theologian, it's difficult to tell.
For sure, he cut his dear wife up, and who would call that right?
But was it not his quest for truth that brought about his plight?
Do you sometimes wonder
how to introduce what is out there to your soul and mind?
how to understand that which exists, in that period of time?
and in that present moment is real, and do you feel guilty if you leave it all behind?
Have you heard that your ego will prevent you
from being who you were meant to be?
And you get absorbed in society’s creations
but you find yourself confused, and unable to see.
And you might search the news
looking for those reads that will reaffirm what’s on your mind.
And you “stumble upon” absurd conspiracy theories
which you “miraculously” find.
Can you somehow see a reflection of who you are?
Or is the mirror broken, left far behind?
Can you ask yourself, honestly, sincerely, what the solution is for human kind?
Or do you get lost within the scope of your very own personal mind?
And as you sit there
do you blame others while looking for a system that creates the hurt?
Deep down you know the answer
it’s selfishness, hatred, power, and greed, which continue to subvert.
What is real and what is fake?
I often wonder what is true.
Yes I listen and I analyze
I use up a portion of my time to see it from a particular point of view.
For now I want to spend my time
searching within my soul for something that I’m unable in this world to find
which baffles me some of the time
because occasionally it’s born and exists deep within my very own mind.
I’m just a being, living and trying to be that which I foresee
searching for the spiritual in that which is before me
at times attempting to find meaning in mortality
with a burning desire to understand and see.
It is contentment which I pursue
Even look inside the cracks
But at times like these contentment hides
and the road ahead confuses me, so I retrace, as I retract.
Maybe I got it all wrong
Maybe some of it is right
Maybe my vision is blurry and foggy
Maybe at times I have trouble seeing the light.
I can take what is happening out there
interpret using knowledge, a view, and perhaps a belief
but often the truth is just not there, and the news really stinks as it permeates
and the nature of the many, rarely offer one relief.
And I’m left with the choice to accept, dissolve, or set it all aside
using my soul and my very own mind.
And after attempting to understand
I ultimately, usually, leave it all behind.
Form:
When you speak to an audience, who are you talking to? The people in front of your screen or those trapped in your dreams? More than thirty thousand people are watching you simultaneously and the language that you portrayed is interpreted in many different ways. When you are on screen, you are not speaking to one person; your multitude of words can rest heavily on the soul for those who absorb them.
I don’t know who you are talking to when you are on the screen unless you place me in a private chat room and direct the conversation to my dream; the universe is blending with you and they will tell you what to do; over a million voices have heard you and ten million ears understand you.
When you leave this place, you will be a better man and a better woman, don’t ever take me for granted because I have ninety-nine lives and I have died and risen many times so get ready for the next journey because we are going to break the box office record and then we dance the shimmy.
I saw you on the screen yesterday with a burden on your face; it is not the regular excitement that I used to see, it’s one mounted with fear and anxiety. It was as if you were speaking and thinking of the journey you have to go, but all the reporters on the scene add compliments to the show.
You use a lot of energy to present the news, do the commentary and analyze the prosperity; the ship is waiting in the dock and the passengers and crew are watching the clock, the cameras are rolling, the makeup is on and you must be on the set before the break of Dawn. The story is just unfolding.
When you speak to an audience let them know what you mean, your body language and tone reveal your countenance for the entire day and even a subtle eye movement will show you the way.
When you are speaking to an audience, you must show variation in your tone. If the point is directed to me, let me know through the constant movement of your little finger because the audience is the art of the show.
We are getting ready for the summer “shots” and we are going to give it all that we’ve got, the equipment is on board the crews are rolling in, location scene shots are identified, analyzed and scrutinized. Security arrangements are put in place for you to completed this final phase, the heat is on and the sacrifice has begun and the queen of the sea has landed.
The rain keeps coming,
Masking tears of despair, and rivers of agony
Seem in no hurry to crest
In this orb that is my world, I stand in frozen animation
As I listen to the venom of tangled tongues and crooked lips
Then hear the critique of the man in the street
I stop to analyze and find that nothing is said, just a horde
Of ghastly lies
My heart grows heavy, and my chest tightens.
As anger builds, my lungs feel the fire of the now forsaking
Breath, the pain is real,
And I contemplate my fate
In this world of mine
The sun is sad and the moon weeps,
And the walls inch closer.
As my neck plays a melody of twisting knots, my shoulders
Feel as if stomped by the passion of a flamenco dance.
As my temples lament the torment of this harrowing crescendo.
From a place called malice and rage, hate and contempt
Send bouquets,
But in the glory of this floral splendor, lies deceit,
The bewitching fragrance of the day.
And serpents of a human Ilk, their minds filled with disdain and
Spite, come to feed upon my life,
As their minions nibble,
I question my sanity
In this world of mine
Is the theatre of suffering,
Where shadows of rage cloak, a dominion of corruption,
And evil keeps a watchful eye,
And vultures with hearts bitter and cold, stalk,
As if waiting for a carrion to be born, that a feast may begin.
And in this presence of immorality,
Void is the integrity of soul.
As I listen to the wind, I hear the voice of purpose,
And in the verses of the night, Is the message of the day
And the lessons taught,
Are real
In this world of mine
As this deluge of decadence baths a candid soul,
I strive to be freed, from the afflictions
Of being.
And amid the craving for contentment, I beg,
For deliverance,
And rest my fate at the foot of the mountain, for there
Lies truth.
In my meditation, eager I am to see behind the light
And reconnect with the presence within,
For it is there that I hear the sunshine in your voice,
And see the laughter in your eyes.
It is there that courage is present, and I am fraught with the
Effervescence of your smile,
And your face is vibrant
And passion enriches me,
And I, am reborn
In this world of mine
Earl S. Jackson
July 2014
Copyright © 2014 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Drop picture till six
The land like Pokémon kills
Nearing a tornado’s kiss?
Lift picture to three
The earth seems a lot different
And looks extreme wilderness!
Turn picture upward
Rapid rivers dash inward
Floods hit mountains and stumble!
See Ottoman cries!
Its history in Palestine
Breaks loudly a hurting cry!
Until the see twirls
Syrian shores to Lake Err!
In one tsunami fits in!
Turn picture around
Look at it from the back side
Night time is facing big sigh!
Walk around clockwise
Walk around counter clock’s wise
What’s the difference at bright?
Look carefully at
While standing behind that
Her shoulders and her two arms
South America?
Thirst for the Atlantic’s tap
See a side face that had trapped?
Is there another mountain?
Leaking black gas surrounding
Happy carnival, walking?
See the dancing sleeves?
While wild fire nears the streets
On her leaning arm as seen?
The plate is moving!
South America swimming?
The south is wetting valleys!
Would waters sink in?
Reaching Amazon’s region
From the forest’s province?
Incline her to three
See volcano born from sea?
Crafting her right cheek’s sad fear?
Is it Gibraltar?
Suddenly speaks, spreads horror
Causing Mona Lisa’s shock?
Tilt her down to six
See Morocco’s beaches quick?
Nearing the west in a blink?
Or causing that lint
To near Africa’s dark flint?
Marrying mounts in a blink?
Prop to quarter till
Watch! The height of the waves bring
Over Mona’s head curving!
Prop her upward to
See again what had done to
See fire rocks drop next to!
Is she hugging babe?
Alive or faint but looks dead?
Leaning on her charm screen scared?
She’s holding a rose!
Or holding one stem of corn?
Looks like child’s hand overall!
Near a villager’s
Boat on top of the mountain
Does sail or drifts to go float?
But, a pyramid
More likely to look amid
Mountain tops and gardens’ bits!
Spin picture right this
Minute, a serpent showing
Behind two wed couples’ kiss!
Aruba under
Her nose moving to northeast
Survives a great flood beneath!
Walk ahead the screen
See Mona is still weeping
For two thousand twelve... searching!
By: Nadia F. Shahwan – April 2009. Note: This is an innocent discovery to analyze the
beauty of the famous Mona Lisa by Van Gogh.
The tears line down my face
While looking for human life I find not a trace
The creepy howls of wolves in the distance
Never have I been in something like this instance
The world got overrun by fools
With unimaginative different tools
They destroyed life's story
Before God's glory
And made us slaves of them all
While distant eyes dance along redwood trees so tall
What do we do when the world is lost?
How will we fix this expensive cost?
Who do we turn to when all faith fails?
Where do we go now when all else prevails?
Smiles of children slowly fade
We left our sweet world --- hardly anyone stayed
Secured insecurities killed us to death
Because world's support just suddenly left
Apolocaylpse comes when you least expect it
And comfort-zones uninvited begin to shift
They wiped out our world like a dead bug on the glass
As if everyone just suddenly lost their unique class
No more churches or temples, religion or law
Still no one more powerful than God --- so it's a draw
Now we work hard to restore our genuine Earth
And still celebrate The Christ Jesus' birth
Nothing will stop this sweet world from growing
No one will stop us from constantly knowing
Nothing will take from us what we earned
Nothing can wipe out what we've already learned
See faith is a strong weapon, the strongest of them all
Even when all else begins to just fall
You have to have it regardless of what you do
But nowadays, there seems very few
Study your religion and growth to the max
And analyze closely at your wonderful facts
Because life is not lost unless you take it yourself
Never be scared of any faith you have --- don't hide it on a shelf
There is more support here then you'd ever know
Listen and watch as our young generations begin to grow
So please take my advice for my advice is true
And stop everyday, kneel, and say to Him, "thank you"
Thank Him for giving you life
Thank Him for saving you from world's little strife
Thank Him for walking beside you everyday
Thank Him for everything in any possible way
Thank Him for dying on that cross
Thank Him for creating Earth --- the trees, oceans, wildlife --- even moss
And you will find yourself in front of a gold gate
Because throughout your life you stuck to your faith
Dedicated to: Anyone who has a Religion
I clock in the time that I arrived but all my explanation was in vain, you did not listen to a word that I say and you kept giving me the blame, if I say A, you say B and if I say He, you say She, You kept putting me below the status quo until you got me off the show.
I still have the passion to live and a heart to forgive but life will never be the same, for you have left me cold, naked, empty and bare but I have got the courage within me to cross over the turbulent sea.
I have been working on this story for more than a year and I everytime I take it to you it end up in the garbage bin, it’s as if I have committed a terrible sin, we cannot see eye to eye and sometimes your insults make break down me cry, If you had stop to listen to what I had to say, the election would have gone another way, but you ignore the simple things that would make you win, the ingredients are mixed up poetry is in the soup and it makes a good diet for me and you. There is magic in the soup.
It is the down to earth things that you cannot see and the objects on the set that cause Israel to hold its breath. The Kremlin fed on them too and those in the back pull Ukraine off the track, they could not analyze them properly and it made the Kremlin happy.
The objects on the set send away the mercenaries in a sprinting in body bags, they were criminals without a destiny or a flag. They have committed atrocious so nature did not treat then kind; they had a short run and was quickly put down by the barrel of the gun .
Everyone worked from the same script while others make lots of profit from it. I did some serious work but you kept throwing me in the dirt and you are still not alert.
I have done some serious work but did not get a dime or recognition for it one administration has come and gone leaving me bare and empty on the law.
It the dawn of a new day and I am optimistic that good things will come my way, you have to settle those legal matters and you have to pull the troops out of the fire.
Think of your own sons and daughter, would you want them to perish in the fire, the nasal sprays are on the way and we have to meet without further delay, too many irons are in the fire and you have to get the universe back in order. We are close but there is distance between us.
It's when aristocracy begins to feel like a mid-uphill battle
It's when the armageddon features evil on both sides
and,
the good are speculating from the auditorium
It's when a 10year old is ducking depleted uranium in Benghazi
It's the bicentennial brainwash that is rapidly depopulating the black community,
It's the fake pastors leading the blind
It's the bloodshed in Raqqa that features berserk jihadists
It's the human traffickings increasing the traffic on the offramp to hell
It's that uno blunder that results in millions bearing a thunder
It's the bogeyman in a tuxedo you voted for stealing away dreams that he sold you.
It's when your future is decided in a one page boustrophedon
It's the bushveld your forefathers were massacred for that you don't have the papers to occupy that continues enriching the man you're working for
Another piece of land sold!
It can't be a rainbow nation with a camouflaged sincerity shaking hands with the devil that's pleading for your votes momentarily
It's another puppet in the whitehouse raising hell and forfeiting heaven.
I had to analyze it properly to see who the "holy bible" really benefits
It's the difference between a peacekeeper and a peacemaker,
It takes peace being present to keep it but little children are starving and homeless because of an American airstrike claiming to fight terrorism that they birthed
It's being an illegal human being because that's the true definition of an African American,
It's the young teenager popping xanax for a deadbeat euphoria
It's the disintegrated city of Mosul and obliterated future for millions of infants
When evil is an obligation they program your mind into denying intuition
It's all about control!
It's an Mk ultra anniversary
It's the disinclination to grant you freedom
Because you can't be free if you aren't a free thinker
It's the trend they sponsor that further demoralizes the black youth that you see your idols promoting
It's the creative freedom you lose once you become a marketing plan.
It's the literature they don't promote the reason you think this is too long to read that actually educates you
I'm offering you this disillusion to share with those in the same dungeon of thought you just escaped from after reading this.
Peace!
Setting Yourself Free
Searching exhaustively for the truth in everything one is taught by others.
Extensively evaluating all things in order to find which path to take.
Thoroughly questioning anything that one is informed by anyone, instead of being
part of the host.
Trusting that everyone has their own path of truth that they follow, however these
paths might not be the right one for the individualist.
Identifying the truths of life by thoroughly researching both sides of every fortune
told by the raja whom is advised by his rani.
Neither believing nor disbelieving one’s knowledge that he has acquired through
attending the institution.
Gathering data from fervently researching both pros and cons, while using the
scientific method for truth finding.
Yearning to analyze several paths of truth in order to find the best-fitting for one’s
way.
Overwhelming being inquisitive towards everything that is advised from a wino.
Understanding the content of all things that one reads from a book, and learns for
one’s milieu.
Radically experimenting through all of life’s endeavors with hopes of finding at least
one that will catch one’s eyes with grandeur.
Syllogistically gathering information through questioning everyone that one meets.
Enticing oneself while studying every ideology of the world with the passion of a
zealot in order to obtain one’s own way of life.
Laboriously diving into a diverse array of the fountains of knowledge and sifting
through them until he finds the one that will help him prevail.
Fanatically familiarizing oneself with the multitude of ideas that the world has to
offer including science, philosophy, and religious belief.
Frantically fusing one’s learned knowledge with his experiences of experimentation
in life, to help him find proof.
Ravaging through the pillars of light and truth while thoroughly investigating the
words of every prophet, scientist, and philosopher.
Expecting to either find a way of life that is sufficient enough to quench one’s thirst
for knowledge or to simply live life through experience.
Exploring the falsification of any truths that are mere opinions without any
substantial evidence.
Somewhere out there in the world
There was a girl, No! strike that—a woman.
He saw as a girl, but knew as a woman.
And loved her only like a man, only a real man can.
A full grown man. Past his trials and tribulations that plague an adolescent youth, posturing while attempting to prove his valor, worth and to much a female’s ambivalent chagrin, his dominance. In his tiny kingdom. Which was really the vast universe of all that crazy phenomenon human beings gave the quirky abstract thing a name. They called it love.
That’s been written about by bards and authors alike. Between a male and a female, the dark to your light. Hey, who is dark anyway? It must be Eve.
Anyhow. Somewhere in the world this forthright, upstanding citizen of a girl, this woman had such an “understanding that she’d see him [in his entirety] like a poem or a story. And "find his words so valuable after all that when he confessed his apprehensions she would explain why they were in fact the very things that made him precious to her.” The Gestalt view of the man. She knew him entirely. Read him like a book. She knew the plot the exposition, the conflict the Rising Action (wink wink) the dénouement and the resolution. As the French would say, n'est-ce pas.
No, like a poem. A poem she wishes she could write. She knew where the best pages of him were. Existing in dog-eared pages with phrases that described earmarked features. Monumental features that tore her heart asunder. Features that filled her up. As god as her witness shed never be hungry again. To lie awake and think of his soul, seeping out of his mouth with words reverberating her own. Oscillating tiny bones, giving semiotics new meaning with each locution.
Don’t over analyze the symbolism here reader. She’d lie awake and ruminate his gestures, his mannerisms. His smile. And the way his face would look in different light. And how when he laughed the crinkles that formed around those intelligent eyes after he eloquently would mouth some truism. And she knew this face appeared throughout history. And she knew a writer of ballads wrote “don’t shove me while I’m drowning… were all just hunting for love” and she read once an author noted: “almost all the people on the boardwalk were paired off into couples.” The end.