Long Benighted Poems
Long Benighted Poems. Below are the most popular long Benighted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Benighted poems by poem length and keyword.
It is sunny
It is raining, it is thundering
It is autumn
From waking up to sleeping.
The leaves are dry and passive
And the flowers are dead and inactive
Later, it is snowing
The neighbors of the inn
See the deer pass by
All the holy day long
And during the whole evening
We feel the change of the nerves
To welcome the new season
Where we are far from the harvest.
We can hear from very far away
The wind humming in the hay
The vibrations are not monotonous
Since the hummingbirds of the hills
Make their spectacular presence felt
And the poets in the imaginary gardens
Describe everything that happens
In the country where the mass
Remains insensitive, benighted and glaikit
And where the elected corruptors boast.
It is sunny
It is raining, it is thundering
It is autumn
From waking up to sleeping.
P.S. Translation Of ‘Les Cantiques Antiques De L’Automne’.
Copyright © November 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Hello, dear Eldest Son,
and what are you feeling entitled to today?
...
CliffNotes on Christianity.
You mean like Christianity for Dummies?
...
No, no aspersions intended.
I'm wondering...
Maybe some context would help.
Why are you asking about Christianity?
I mean,
other than your totally secular development
and your absence of any sacred fertilization.
...
Yes, well,
we do have that not small problem of evil
despite our omnipotent God.
...
Omnipotent. Like polypathic is to omniscient,
polyculturing outcomes are to omnipotence.
Radically and profoundly and resonantly powerful.
...
Polyphonic to omnipresent...
I'll think about that.
So, yes, I guess my own big take-away from Christianity
is the Holy Spirit is also Gaia.
Just two different names
for one shared holonic regenerate nature-spirit
of co-intelligent evolution revolutions.
...
No, that's about it.
Once you catch on to Holy Spirit
as matriarchal Earth Goddess
nurturing regenerative bilateral-temporal flow,
you can just map Christianity
onto sacred ecology,
and vice versa,
and whatever doesn't seem to fit
probably got added on by some benighted council of patriarchs
anyway.
...
What about God the Father?
...
Well, who would be Father to Earth Goddess?
...
Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.
Earth was born of Father Sun,
and then these two mess with each other
and next thing you know
people come along to make up romantic stories
about photosynthesis
is like breathing
if you have leaves
or healthy bicameral lungs
and heart
and mind.
...
Sure, no problem.
you really didn't call to ask for money?
...
That's what I thought.
How much this time?
...
The weary Shepherd of a benighted flock
has been cast into outer darkness;
languishing in a purgatory
of his own making.
And those flock of sheep are now
running amok, plaintively bleating "baa! baa!"
into the abyss. Trying but failing to regroup;
chin-stroking about who they're now supposed to be
Oh, what to do! They can't seem to figure out
what to do with themselves anymore, pathetically
desperate enough to go down the primrose path of
self-destruction with the false prophet that once LED them.
Now they're crestfallen about the glory they once knew.
Instead of throwing off the yoke of servitude,
they've chosen to come under it, like old times.
Exhibit A: of the whole bunch, the most dyed-in-the-wool
sheep made a trip to Florida, headed down
his old Shepherd's abode, genuflecting before him;
on his hands and knees, pleading
to be led, like old times.
*example for contest*
Date written: 01/30/2021
Without knowing your gender...,
(nevertheless ex post facto still flattered
genuine heartfelt kinship mattered,
hence the reasonable rhyme
across the webbed wide world
I subsequently scattered).
Linkedin to the previous poem,
(similarly written scant few years ago.
I also codified, glorified, and lamented
an unexpected cessation of communication
with he/him who affixed yours truly
appellation of wise man, which modesty
of mine gently downplays.
Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender
benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,
(I did miss render
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind bender,
when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,
adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and
upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender
as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking sexual
identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed
metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold,
mine apology I did obligingly surrender
and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
sixty plus four shades of lavender.
Too bad, for long has man shun a dark night.
But darkness ‘tis that lets deeper insight,
What opens up a rich treasure
That light blindfolds beyond measure,
It’s dark that unravels man’s inner blight
That no mundane light ever can
To an introspecting man,
Dark has the depth that reaches hoary height.
What to all be a darkling night,
A seeker awake still
Keeps up a keen vigil,
What to all is wakeful day light,
That be the resting night
For him that hath soul’s light.
If things around seem dark
Look for that inner spark,
It’s your own inner light
You’re looking for that darkling night,
Dig deep and take deep breath,
Reach to your inner faith,
Be in touch with that bird
That sees in a dark world.
Know, know that darkling blight
Ere can appreciate light.
The darkest skies oft are
That reveal unseen stars,
Dark sees depths no light can,
As can dark delving man.
______________________________
Reflections | 04.10.2017, revised April 2023|
Poet’s note: Inspired by
He that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun.
-John Milton
Also, Bhagavad-Gita, 2.69
ya nisha sarva bhutanam tasyam jagarti samyami |
yasyam jagrati bhutani sa nisha pashyato muneh ||
ya = what; nisha = is night; sarva = all; bhutanam = of living entities; tasyam = in that; jagarti = is wakeful; samyami = the self-controlled; yasyam = in which; jagrati = are awake; bhutani = all beings; sa = that is; nisha = night; pashyatah = for the introspective; muneh = sage.
Roll back the clock to Josef Locke
(and not before or after),
in climes where shrines have names like Knock
without provoking laughter.
My father was an army man
(and yet me to beget),
all spit-and-polish, spick-and-span,
and quite the martinet.
Those soldier boys were short on poise
in those benighted days:
the Murphys, Martins and Molloys
were raised in rustic ways.
But Duty Sergeant Kevin Coy,
vesuviously vocal,
was out to drum-head or destroy
each vermin-ridden yokel.
His boots could pass for lacquered glass,
his gloves would shame a surgeon:
his dignitas at morning Mass
outshone the Blessed Virgin.
Imagine, then, when Cousin Ben
(all NCOs were family)
provided gen beyond all ken
(with palms perspiring clammily):
“They’re on a charge. I told them, Sarge.
I threatened savage slaughters.
Le nettoyage. A smell at large
in Ballykelly Quarters.”
They hunted high, they hunted low,
they bled the radiators,
more ebb and flow could offer no
Projection of Mercator’s.
Just how to quell that awful smell
preoccupied them greatly:
hard to dispel, suspicion fell
on Houlihan, then Hateley.
Catch as catch can, they caught their man
(not Higgins, or O`Hara):
who’s down the pan? None other than
your man from Connemara.
What Ryan knew was equal to
a peat-bog sown with barley:
he’d not a clue – “What? Put on new
bejeezers, regularly?”
His first long-johns remained the ones
adorning regions nether:
six months now gone, he still had on
the same ones, altogether.
“Wear other pairs? These stink – who cares?”
What’s harder to believe
is, unawares, his thighs’ black hairs
had grown quite through the weave!
“He’s now cashiered for being weird –
why then, we’ll depilate him.”
His locks were sheared, and then his beard,
and pubis, seriatim.
Thus Ryan, Sean, of Shirley born,
his gonads wholly hairless,
is there to warn, so sheerly shorn:
a lesson to the careless.
Whatever sins the Pope rescinds,
or parish priests connive at,
sloth never wins. Redress begins
with Shaving Ryan’s Privates.
Exactly where and when does Ego begin,
my creation story introduction,
preface;
and is there anything in there about a sequel?
Identity of EarthLight co-revolving HeavenlyPower,
autonomic memory unfolding Ego's deep storage capacity,
regeneratively biased in favor of time's continuance,
dipolar dynamics of balance and crown/root harmony,
resilient LeftBrain-function rooted in Elder RighTime's
seasons of light and dark hemispheric
horizons
Dawning birth through adorescents
climax trending outside light
and inside power systems
To and from autumnal adulthood
on through death's disbirth
decomposing interior/exterior processing trends,
sacred liturgy of one benighted day's lifetime
Reviewing regenerative exterior experiential enlightenment
with fertile body empowerment
Sinking deeply into MindBody Great Transition
(0)-soul ZenTime of Yang/Yin co-arising elation,
surfing love of regenerating Ta(0)Time ourself
reincarnations of all matriarchal RNA generations
before LeftBrain verbal history,
children of MotherEarth's multiculturing Tribes,
sharing caring TransPresent bicameral intelligence,
deep communion restorage
RE: mindbody light investment
and mind v body disempowering divestment
for/of/with/toward future safe love health
v. unsafe hate pathology
TO: YangCrown/YinRoot identify bicameral flowstreams
of neuro-sexsensory win/win incubators,
now evolving toward polypathic co-binary maturation
of multi-paradigmatic EarthHealth,
sacred ecology's love-wealth
ReVisiting dawning SunLight's
deep dusky EarthPowers
nonviolent lust for enlightened
nonverbal trust of empowered
indigenous Holy Nature-Spirits
panentheistic EarthBody/AnthroMind
regenerative communication trends.
SEQUEL: Exactly where and when
LeftBrain verbally dominant
Straight White over-capitalized
run on and on and on
HisAnthroStory
begins
Our eternally salvific
EarthMother ReCreation Story
enlightened SunLight preface
empowering holy-spirit refaced
Elder-RightTrained EarthPower
adorescent neurosystemic sequel
PREQUEL: Don't global light-bulb push it.
Empower more local bushy feel
On asphalt, wet with blood and sweat (down streets with no address),
there lay a man, snuffed by the Man and left to evanesce.
The Man then strode along the road and smiled at his success
and, cavalier, he bought a beer, sat down to decompress.
A life was gone, but day wore on, the sun awash in heat –
the riddled head no longer bled, concealed beneath a sheet,
and passers-by began to cry, were sobbing indiscreet’,
while holy bells in distant hells began to moan and bleat.
In heaven's eyes (no one denies) due process is decreed,
but down below, where burdens flow, it rarely can succeed
and certainly not for those distraught, benighted in their need,
so Men in blue (you know the crew) thought nothing of the deed.
Though just eighteen, a little green (was still his mama's son!),
adored by all, but left to sprawl in webs of hate, undone,
the youth was shot and left to rot, but never held a gun,
so people cried and wondered why'd the evil deed been done.
The sheriff said "forget the dead, his crime was black as slate"
and in the rush to hush and shush, he hissed "I'll tell you straight,
that boy, today, was on his way to rendezvous with fate,
so now you know – I gotta go, it's gettin' kinda late".
Not satisfied with those who'd lied, some took to fill the streets
with peaceful cries neath blackened skies, were paid with clubbed retreats,
cruel gas cascades and stun grenades, then days in jailhouse suites –
though curfew's on from dusk till dawn, each night this scene repeats.
With exits barred, in came the Guard to rumble and repress,
for people stray both night and day in search of some redress.
The city's scarred, the houses charred, the locals in distress –
with cut or bruise, they still refuse to kneel or acquiesce.
So choppers fly above the sky with whirling, twirling blades
and drones in flight within the night erase the renegades.
The tarot cards and crystal shards reveal the masquerades –
the beating parts of diamonds’ hearts forever club the spades.
Now puppet Pols are making calls and acting out charades
(like shouting loud within the crowd, and marching in parades),
while underneath, where lies a wreath, the hope for justice fades.
Yet, freedom waits behind the gates, beyond the barricades.
25 Aug 2014
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine)
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logi, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
When my solitude
silently stands in sunlight
radiating GoldenRule enlightenment
and rational empowerment
through windows dawning bright,
A sharp shadow line
vertically cuts across my bridge
and brow of smell and seeing senses,
InBetween left within shadow
and right without radiance,
narrow sides of double-bonded Truth,
curious and hidden Beauty.
Right eye clearly articulating
bright prominent sight
dominantly lit up height
for best resonant enlightenment
Is blinded by bright
to not fight
automatic rays deflecting night,
While shadow Left,
not yet overpowered
with Right red-eye blinding punishment,
benighted verbal authority,
BiLaterally
yet integrally knows he she sees
seas
and seasons dipolar co-arising contrast
best as starkest
never darkest
win/win economic dawning options
of BothLeft/AndRight gold radiating rain
in droughts known
through beatified non-pain,
bicameral light regained,
empowered feelings unslain
Again
full bicameral stereo polyphonic,
Radiantly healthy thoughts
not verbally sustained
without dark ultra winnings
winging out and in reimaged, full
golden silent solidarity
mountain-rivered,
ego-system eco-quivered,
Sight and sound delivered
from and toward Earth
compassion soul committed bright
ZeroZone of full
new partial shadows
in rememory light
undeliverable solitude
in health safe night
When my ego-secrets
silently stand in sunlight
radiating GoldenRule enlightenment
rational empowerment
through this window
just now dawning bright.