Long Bearer Poems
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Hush, the world will never know the mystery hidden in silences,
Paper bird feathers, drifting like the specters of unspoken dreams,
From my heart, scattering like stardust on angel wings,
Grains of dreams carried by infinity, suspended in the universe of an unwary thought.
Neither the reddish breeze of autumn, caressing the leaves like a messenger of sacred shadows,
Nor the melancholic rain enveloping our souls in mantles of endless longing,
Cups of dreams and wishes, scattering like petals in the ocean of destiny,
As I, like a wandering wind, lose myself among the falling leaves like dreaming tombs.
And no star in the opal sky, will ever know how its gaze captivates me,
How it embraces me in its blinding blue, like a wave crashing on the shores of solitude,
In cold and painful velvet, touching my heart like a shadow's caress,
In opulent silver masks, playing their roles in the theater of the night.
How I lost my heart, on an undiscovered realm, hidden under the cosmic blanket,
I gathered in my palms your poison, like an elixir of forgetfulness,
And I savored you slowly, tearing the eardrums of my soul with sweet-bitter pain,
Now you are just a deep wound, shining like a falling star among shadows.
Hush, no one will know the story woven in golden sunsets,
With how much love you, my specter, enchanted me among bleeding roses,
Seduced me in secret gardens, under the shadows of solitary trees.
Not even you know how profoundly I loved you, in the silent evening of farewell.
Moments passed like the waves of an ocean of suspended dreams,
We, eternal prisoners of a love buried in twilight,
Danced in the cold halls of the castle of oblivion, under the gaze of the pale moon,
Stars of old sighs, silent witnesses of our lost longing.
The paper bird, bearer of our hidden messages,
Flies into infinity, carrying with it the echoes of a mystic love,
We, eternal travelers through the lands of memory, remain chained by unfulfilled desires,
Your poison is now the source of melancholy, a dance of strange shadows and lights.
Hush, let's stay silent, the world doesn't need to know our secret trill,
Our love was a melancholic waltz on the edge of eternity,
An enchanted painting, painted in shades of silver and tears,
On the canvas of a life that knew how to love and to lose in a harmony of stars and dreams.
Oh hello there! Again!
Aah!
Yes!
You there!
Such lovely young pretty plaything, a female?
I presume?
With the beautiful expensive suit!
I am just seeing you there like a dream of crimson and horror!
Oh sorry!
At my age, your mind starts to wander.
And a Wanderer I am!
A wanderer in pursuit!
Where are you going my dear,
boy or girl I don’t care.
Can I follow you there?
I stay very near?!
Oh don’t mind me, I’m just a wanderer you see!
I am just bringing light to the world
a bringer of light a bearer of sight if you will.
Oh is it?
Is true you just live down the avenue?
I see!
Can I walk with you a little, please?
This is a mighty fine place you have here,
a beautiful quaint little town,
quaint and clear…
all nestled back in the valley.
Hummm!
Yes. Indeed!
No one can hear you screa-rrr-I mean
no one can hear you in a quaint little place!
What is that?
Oh!
Yes! Indeed!
I’m sorry you may be worried
but don’t you fear I’m quite harmless,
don’t you see?
What are you seeing?
Oh, that!
that’s just ravens wings
tucked neatly near a bone-white spine
and onyx claws!
Nothing to see, here…
Oh, my fingers?
Oh so long, sleek sharp like razors
strong to rip you apart.
Sorry sorry, pardon me!
No need to run!
No need to struggle
Daggers slicing your flash!
Oh! I’m sorry did I mean to hurt you!
I am just passing through a wanderer you see.
A light bringer of fire and rage!
On my way to the Detonation Fields
Feeling my way through this blasted world.
Laughing at the powers that be!
Wait for the wormwood to fly…
Oh! Don’t worry about me!
Can’t you see I’m not staying,
just passing through!
I bring you fear and loathing.
But don’t you worry
I am everything!
Everywhere!
I know you are alone
but come closer,
a little closer,
please.
So, I can see you in this empirical twilight.
No need to struggle….
My fingers are strong, indeed…
Tightening, as you struggle to breathe
Can’t you speak?
No, I guess your crimson mouth speaks,
NOT!
Don’t struggle so…
I’m just a wanderer, you know…
I have such sights to show…
So come with me to the Holocaust!
Can you feel the infernos heat…
Hear the damned scream.
Sweet music!
Don’t you hear it too?
OH, sooooo sweet!
Ah YES!
Yes…
indeed.
Did You Learn Anything?
Go ahead.
Put your shoes on.
Walk outside and face the nervous day.
Know that your lungs will not resist you.
Know that your heart will still stir.
Put the key in the ignition.
Now turn the crank.
You are back there now.
As if in a dream so ordered.
It is 1937 on Hoover Street.
The oleanders are bleeding.
Perfumed orange trees spit white loogies.
Clean children emerge from green digs.
Mothers hang clothes on uncomplaining lines.
Your grandmother is back there.
She’s wearing black reptile oxfords.
Go ahead.
Walk down the long gravelly driveway.
Pass the back porch steps there.
Pass the red-blooming bougainvillea.
There she is, alive again as she was.
Unfurling laundry with old clothespins.
Singing an old Salvation Army song.
Go ahead.
Talk to her.
Tell her who you are.
“Baba. Baba, it’s me,
Your surviving grandson, Harry.
I wanted to tell you,
I am a poet now.
An engineer of the human soul.
A standard-bearer for the mad,
Dressed in mindful metaphor.
You look young despite the goiter,
There inside your sinewy neck.
It appears and seems as if,
The goiter is a python at sleep,
Scrunched up inside there,
All rolled up like kneaded bread.
I hope it doesn’t hurt you.
I come from the future, Baba.
I know that sounds crazy, but
I am visiting from the year 2020.”
The world of my time screams
In lockdown, like medieval Europe,
People of every nation and tongue,
Too afraid to emerge from their walls,
Too fearful of even breathing in,
Imbibing in, with lost enthusiasms,
Mountain fresh air from the antipodes;
Fearful of catching and releasing It - the
Corona Virus monster microbe moving
Silently across the terrified landscapes,
Devouring the cool mornings,
Aside the neon evenings, even
Robbing the noon day of hopeful turnings.
“Baba, can I stay here with you,
In this golden simple time of 1937?
May I remain here now,
A happy and relieved rider,
Astride this awful depression horse?”
Go ahead.
It is time to return.
Baba died in 1963 and cannot hear you.
Turn the key off in the ignition.
You are back now where you belong.
It is 2020 in the United States of America.
Baba is sleeping in the graveyard now.
You are being held hostage by a germ.
Kick your shoes off now and think.
Did you learn anything?
Islam rejects the Christian concept of original sin and the notion that all humans are born sinners due to the actions of Adam. God says in the Quran:
“And no bearer of burdens shall bear another’s burden.” (Quran 35:18)
Every human being is responsible for his or her actions and is born pure and free from sin. Adam and Eve committed a mistake, they repented sincerely and God in His infinite wisdom forgave them.
“Then they both ate of that tree, and so their private parts appeared to them, and they began to stick on themselves the leaves from Paradise for their covering. Thus did Adam disobey his Lord, so he went astray. Then his Lord chose him, and turned to him with forgiveness and gave him guidance.” (Quran 20:121-122)
Mankind has a long history of committing mistakes and forgetting. Even so, how was it possible for Adam to have committed such a mistake? The reality was that Adam did not have any experience with the whisperings and ploys of Satan. Adam had seen the arrogance of Satan when he refused to follow the commands of God; he knew that Satan was his enemy but had no familiarity with how to resist Satan’s tricks and schemes.
God said:
“So he (Satan) misled them with deception.” (Quran 7:22)
God tested Adam so that he could learn and gain experience. In this way God prepared Adam for his role on earth as a caretaker and a Prophet of God. From this experience, Adam learned the great lesson that Satan is cunning, ungrateful and the avowed enemy of mankind. Adam, Eve and their descendants learned that Satan caused their expulsion from heaven. Obedience to God and enmity towards Satan is the only path back to Heaven.
God said to Adam:
“Get you down (upon the earth), all of you together, from Paradise, some of you are an enemy to some others. Then, if there comes to you guidance from Me, whoever follows My Guidance shall neither go astray, nor fall into distress and misery.” (Quran 20:123)
The Quran tells us that Adam subsequently received from his Lord some words; a supplication to pray, which invoked God’s forgiveness. This supplication is very beautiful and can be used when asking for God’s pardon of your sins.
“Our Lord! We have wronged ourselves. If you forgive us not and bestow not upon us Your Mercy, we shall certainly be of the losers.” (Quran 7:23)
Form:
Although the kiss was brief
The sensation seem to linger,
His eyes still closed when he felt a pain
As she ran the razor sharp nail of her finger
His eyes popped open as he looked at his chest
She hushed him and stroked his hair while whispering “rest”
He found that he was laying on the floor
Surrounded by snow, his chest was bloody and gore
“What you doing?” he begged
“Hush I said.”
“All will be revealed in time,”
“Rest you’re now mine.”
He panicked and tried desperately to move
But could not, as if his body had been removed
She sat next to him as her tail caressed his face
The scent of a woman was pleasurable, her tail like a silky lace
She spoke “ Do you remember long time ago,”
“The beginning of your people’s sorrow?”
“Yes,” he replied
The reality of his situation dawned on him as he deeply sighed
“The sacrifice should have been from the chief’s fruits not a bearer,”
“Yes,” he replied, “A male child not female that’s what brought our terror.”
“What Happened to Little Irit?” she asked
He hesitated for a while, “She was taken by Coyote,” he said at last
“Probably eaten, how should I know.”
She whispered “That was not so.”
“I am Irit the sacrifice, not little anymore,” “They now call me Irma.”
Child of Coyote, Goddess of Devolma”
“Although you killed my father, his spirit lives in me”
She straddled him, sat on his belly leaned forward and said “Look in to my eyes and
see the fate I have for thee”
Her eyes were pools of fire
As he saw his fate, the terror made him scream out and perspire
Her fingernails slowly pushed under his chest deep inside
Slowly tearing the skin open wide
He screamed but his body did not move
He passed out, she stopped and waited until he was fully alert before continuing the
skin removal
“Medicine man where is the one that should have been given in my place?”
“Show haste and I might spare the rest of you and your face.”
The pain was to much to bare and thought he would die at that moment in time
But her words echoed in his pain “YOU ARE MINE”
“His in hiding in the great towns,” he screamed
The exposed muscles to the air was like no other pain but she had hot water on the
fire which steamed
“Hush, this is only the beginning for you medicine man she whispered….
To be continued….
An Echo Poem by Lora Colon and Brian Johnston
Pieces Of Yesterday
I found pieces of yesterday
I kept hidden in a special place,
Little things I wanted to remember,
But things I now find hard to face
Memories of a special love.....
Just one man who filled my life with awe,
Withered flowers, in full bloom yesterday,
A bouquet from which I still draw
Just the two of us sharing dreams,
He promised me a new tomorrow,
He bears no blame for what was delivered.....
A new day filled with old sorrow
Missing pieces of yesterday,
Leaving the story so incomplete,
A man and a woman, looking for love,
Interrupted by fate's deceit
Damn the fate that tore us apart,
Cursed fiend, deserving retribution,
In the complexities of my fury
I thought I found a solution....
I sent my memories back to fate,
It took all else.... why leave misery?
But late last night, the lot returned, unclaimed....
It read 'Refused Delivery'
Lora Colon
------------------------------------------------
The Best-Laid Schemes O' Mice And Men...
Those pieces of yesterday covered with slime
Are part of the future too, love that's sublime,
For those withered flowers on which you still draw,
Are seeds for tomorrow, not stones in Death's maw.
All dreams are potential, not cast in cement,
Christ's Death not the victor though God's veil was rent,
The tomb that was empty, the thorns of Christ's crown,
No wise man could fathom, or God's wisdom drown.
Despair of man's promises but if you're wise,
Still look to the future with hope in your eyes,
The story that you've judged is not worth the tell
Might still have denouement that fate cannot quell!
The future you salvage by cursing your fate
Is your plan, not God's, which you might contemplate,
Christ's pain on the cross though defeat in your mind
Ensuring your future, a Love more than kind!
The stone which man's wisdom rejected becomes,
The bearer of our life's most favored outcomes,
And pain which most men still consider untoward,
In retrospect key to our final reward.
Brian Johnston
Poet's Notes:
This poem was written in response to a poem written by my poet friend Lora Colon. Please check out her site on PoemHunter.com for many more outstanding poems.
Bottle of tears is my first version of this poetic legacy series
Skeleton of tears is which the venerated versatility carries.
This might be called as a sequel of alacrity or prolongation
But best before this is a celluloid and my heart and art collaboration.
In this poem “I or me” signify tears
Tears personify her expressions and emotions
Read this and know the life legacy of tears with concentration
And finally your fur, fleece and fuzz stand erect in attention.
Tears personify, I am compacted in stars
I am compressed between hurdles and wars
I am combusted on scorches
I am confided from Ishtar torches.
Tears epitomize, eternal bone of mine is an ominous emotion.
The Sagaras; Sarpada, Satluj shaded a challenge to my dire destination.
That one eve ever the fever of cleavers cannot catch up with me.
And the damp humidity of drought could not cope up with me.
Tears embody, I float on the branches of poignant army
I flood around the builds of happiness
I reach the borders of hell-heeled layers
And I roof down the clouds to my feet and make them rain prayers
Tears swank ,When my real steel sizzled atoms of blood,
Come together to conjure a flood.
The heated ink of emotions ignites to molt the black clouds
And let me visualize in which eve shall it swounds.
Tears exemplify, my liberty leads the immense flame in the hands of torch bearer
My prodigy evokes the waves hard under visions of volcanoes
The lust of my silvered glory was inspired from the shiny heavenly threads of feudal dart.
And the symptom of my introduction will be the rise of a burning heart.
God of hostility typify: Convinced that the fever of lava can't cope up with me
And the humidity of drought can"t hope up the level with me
In such a water working poem this is the conclusion
That even the pacific evaporate when my eternal strength feel thirsty after a tear solidification.
And now the spirits incarnate, my iron lungs had oxidized with the bitter-sour chilled water
after reading it and they crackled their internal matter into ignitious crater.
And now I will come to compete with and complete the legacy BOT(Bottle of Tears)
In the new form and with new fire firmed eyes to show you the third part “Kingdom for Disarmament of Tears ”.
4/14/2016
He sits in a wheelchair pushed to the curb. The people around him move aside to assure he is able to see. His shrunken body a shell of what it used to be. His breathing labored, aided by the tube that extends from the oxygen tank attached to his chair. On his head, he sports a blue campaign cap with VFW stitched in gold. He is one of America's finest, come to pay his respects.
Behind him stands a younger woman who has guided him there. A daughter perhaps, fussing over him, adjusting the robe in his lap, assuring his comfort. He shows no resistance to the attention, but simply sits and waits.
In the distance drums are heard, soon to be joined by the sound of horns. A stirring march riffles over the crowd, and an electricity grips their senses. Soon the call of cadence is heard. The measured tramp of boots, perfectly in time with the music. It grows louder until at last, a military formation looms into view. Uniformed soldiers, marching in perfect rows, perfect columns, gleaming boots, ribboned chests, weapons at rest on their shoulders. The crowd stirs. Small flags are waved. Cheers erupt. Pride hangs thick in the air.
The color guard approaches. Banners held high, snapping in the breeze. Some spectators remove their caps while others cover their hearts. Children, hoisted to their fathers shoulders, clap in excitement.
The old man tugs at the woman's sleeve and motions for her to come closer. She leans down and listens as he speaks, then asks "are you sure"?. He nods his head. Walking to the front of the chair, she removes the robe and, grasping his outstretched hands, pulls him slowly to his feet, where he stands with her assistance. Those around him watch as the frail, stooped body, with some difficulty, stands more erect. They see the pain etched on his face, and the tear that escapes his eye as he offers a salute as the flag passes by.
Suddenly, the cadence count stops, and in it's place is heard a command . A command normally reserved for when passing a reviewing stand. "Company, eyes right" the guidon bearer bellows, and with that, he returns the aging veterans salute, a sign of respect for an old soldier. After all, it is his flag. It is his country. He bought them both many years ago.
Bob Quigley
Jan 10, 2012
(Life note to self — answer God’s call and walk hope’s hall with my head up with a heart of fearlessness, not appall)
Living this life has made me feel so much strife as of lately...but I’m making it alive by numbing the pain I’ve been feeling for a while now..I must sleep to get rid of the sweat on my brow
I felt like dying tonight, but deep down, I want to live freely...fake it till I make it is what I keep telling myself and I’m driven insane somehow...anyhow, I’m going to take a bow
Feel the thunderstorm of my heart beating
Enjoy a life full of joy and keep defeating
Negativity and its demons that dare to break you and I...God has filled me up with His might
Oh, I have an ode for myself — it’s a life note, not a death note...who knew I’d end up, losing a bit of faithfulness inside...but I need motivation to be by my side and soon enough, I will survive tribulation’s extraterrestrial tide
Tension and apprehension fills my mind and I’m so blind, but I was blessed with great sight
Elevate my empathy towards You and look forward to brighter days, so that I won’t cry these tears and simply cower away...something in me has died, but I’m confident that all cynicism will soon subside
Trying to let go of hopelessness and give in to tranquility’s hold - a peace that I need tremendously, so I’m giving it a try...I’ll try to fly...I must be bold...I must be bold and do what I am told, so that God’s Word doesn’t remain cold in my mind’s eye
Overly thinking over different dilemmas in my life and I don’t ever want to die...even if my mind says otherwise, I will become a happy man — that, I can’t deny
Shame embraced me, never leaving my presence...my beloved heart beats in remembrance
Of You and Your elegant effulgence...I remember the good times spent with the Father of Truth...Empath of loneliness and bearer of griefs of various kinds— that’s who I once was
Sometimes, life doesn’t make sense, but I’m looking forward to jubilance and His excellent radiance...
Free-spiritedly shines anew through the open doors of my mind’s eye...God loves us and reads our life notes of endurance and awesomeness, despite our downfalls and flaws...
(Life note to self — stand tall through it all and when I fall, I will get back up and get on the ball...)
CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection
No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.
Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.
Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.
The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.
Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.
At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.