Long Benign Poems
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Glass shattered Saturday afternoon tea for S I L E N C E
holding steady raven momentum for its own r i p p i n g
fire from heartbeat slashes its void to tumble wounds of
wisdom weeping slow dirty tears of biting burns inserting
into wordless flesh of waiting before window panes were
smashed with stone docile ornaments, rampant afternoon
unvoiced holding a blank white canvas for dripping
bookshelves tumbled, poems torn to sheds, laundry strewn
with glass splinters as lead, aphonics slithering into dried out
stewpot waiting for maniacal tsunami to cremate emotions
tweezer them from dna soiled in possessive prisons ridiculed
Divinity spoke in all pervasive silence on testing timeline taut
holding breath to His nostrils imbibing a billion frequencies
I chose to brave open His serene lips for unutterable L O V E
lashes He crafted brushed breathy implicits with assent
for missions of courage traversed embracing solitude
observed in stillness whilst across eerie forest moss
carpets I deciphered “They Don’t Care about Us”
hush self wears a daisy cloak from heavenly dew fields
luminosity unzips not as lies hop chaotic across
spiderwebs it can chameleon transmute into gentle
streams to soothe that which hides for right timing
~ first bud of white rose birthing delicacy or benign
waters over pebble backdrop quietude
biscuit baker feeds jealousy, deceit, shame, guilt, indecision
escapism ~ swampy keys of stagnant quagmires will too utter
her heart’s eclipsed light breaking egoic invisibility as
softly I breathe her shadowed taciturn s t e a l t h
quiet petaling garment breaks open blackout mission
regurgitating quantum memories incubated in beckoning cell
fertility for decades perhaps centuries, marching crusades of
soul conquering ancient lands, majestic mountains, raucous
seas, ports, yellow spices, when women with babes gagged
anguished longing for men to taste their honey in serenity
hot crusted bread speaking truths of labouring backs bent
cows chewing cherrywood cuds ~ what could be a more
knowing t r a n q u i l i t y ?
now wafered soundlessness is lamb yet diamond piercing
raw, a lark offers sotto tones as harmony cupped in two
musing wings to ascend where it can quintessentially
quiver, hover in expectant repose for another silent mission
In regard to human's such abject abyss and absurdity, we can't help questioning: can human still be indulgent in the virulent vainglory having shaped their pretentious and dangerous preconception of a human-centered and human-dominated cosmos? can human waywardly go on with their ecologic vandalism having already triggered the macrocosmic nature's wrath and punishment? In fact, all their perverted precepts and practices have spoilt or to a large extent countervailed the hard-earned results of their positive efforts. ( e.g. vaccine development, treatment of the infected)
As can be seen more often than not: Overloaded hospital wards and overwrought medical workers are outflanked by waves of overwhelming epidemic peaks, and the process of vaccination popularization outpaced by the viruses' variation and proliferation. Indeed, human's arrogance, ignorance and particularly conscience absence have estranged them from one informative sense: The best remedy is the due respect for the macrocosmic nature that nurtures the entire universe and the due reverence for her sovereign system that really dominates every being and everything living or working inside her domain; The best vaccine is the virtue of taking all harmless lives kindly and taking kindly to the nature's heartfelt call for every bio-community member's benign ecofriendly behavior.
Having ironed out the aforesaid reasoning and arguments and having made clear our firm attitude and stance, we hereby urge Spanish, Dutch butchers and especially the Dane banes:
Stop your criminal and cruel cull without delay, do not engage any more in any activity that may bring us extinction, mass toll and physical or psychological harm, let us resume enjoying our old habitat safe and calm.
We also want to extend our exhortation to all of the human being: Make a thorough stock-taking of the circumstances of correlated infection-prone species and overall epidemic aspect before renouncing your previous evil ways and recommitting to building a livable eco-environment and lovable bio-community. Only after the strict imposition of precautionary disciplines upon your daily behavior, would there be a promising future of fine faith and fair fortune for every existent being under the sun, of course including yourselves; In the bargain, would come genuinely effective epidemic-controlling & prevention mechanisms for yourselves.
O glorious dear sun, sovereign of the day, in the sky above
you’re one whose radiance resembles a little of God’s love;
by nurturing all creatures in the world with your unique rays
and setting such a high standard that homage everyone pays.
The Earth and all known planets habitually revolve around thee
as children do their parents whose offspring they happen to be.
Your emissary in the night sky, the moon, a bright reflection is
serving us as a reminder of thy glory while displaying all of his.
You shine on one and all and no discrimination ever make
regardless of who they are and what they do for their sake.
It is no wonder then that people have worshiped you as a deity in the past
and even now continue to do so in ways associated with the weather forecast.
When your light is obstructed by clouds all seems to be somber and gray
but when the sky is clear your majestic presence illumines the whole day.
The whole world in fact dances to thy rhythmic score which has been set
and plays itself out daily as the dawn and dusk through a yearly quartet.
You have such a strong influence on all life as we know it here
that whether we like it or not you’re a symbol of hope and cheer.
Though it has also been noted that you sometimes have an extreme side
but this depends on the whims of nature to which all things must abide.
All in all to the naked eye you alone reign supreme in the sky’s vast firmament
but to those who see further you’re one of countless others which you represent.
The stars in the night sky are your brothers and sisters no matter how distant they be
some being greater and brighter, but made of the same basic stuff, in the cosmic sea.
There are so many secrets hidden in your bosom which are yet to be revealed
that if and when the time comes much is to be known about life still concealed.
In fact the power and energy that flows to us from you I daresay has a divine source
because you yourself are a center and beacon of a universal benign and creative force.
And just as you really give so much and seem to ask for nothing in return
I humbly offer this ode to you in praise which by your inspiration did learn.
And although most intelligent creatures hold you in such high esteem
please also acknowledge our debt to you for allowing us to daydream.
___________________________
In the deepest shadows of life,
we threatened to disappear from inside and die from outside due to an endemic or experimental weapon designed to kill or perhaps a designated terrorist sent for a mission from behind closed doors in a lab, who knows? crawling and moving around the world killing. What did they? what did we? And What did I? ever do, to be a scapegoat of your ruthlessly executions, ask me no questions, I will tell you no lies. To some level we tried to contain and mitigate, you disappeared
for a short while Oh! relieved we were!
You reproach in another move
more complicated, hybrid, degenerated and more touch-and-go,
rather perilous enough to clear humanity from the face of the Earth
orphaning many children, widowing a peck of mothers, killing quite a hatful of fathers, robbing off a wat of children from thy mothers and fathers, killing thy sons and daughters, fathers and mothers of this world.
East to west and west to East,
tanks of tears flow for your atrocities. North to south and South to North,
echoes of the grieving hearts are loud heard,
a reflection of the mournful and bleeding world due to your flagitious crimes.
You kill the young and old daily in biggest… some survive you perhaps the lucky who are living like they are dying?
thus, their hearts bleeding for thy cuts of you.
You’re are a lethal war with no guns or ammunitions, Perhaps world war three, a weapon Or designated terrorist hiding and striking with spotless character in our amidst, premeditated terrorist I presume!
Moving in the streets hunting for contacts, killing without empathy and compassion but just cupid and thirsty to attack
leaving families weeping and grieving
while their long faces lugubriously reflecting hidden and unexpressed pain for the uncalled suffering and their throats
gulped with a plethora of vengeance.
Psychological tortures and insanities you bring, we recover No! No!
Our profound supplications are heard by our benign Parent whose hands we are, on Earth to fight knowing that one day you will drop to quietus, that one day we will be just as brilliant and ready for any other attacks of your-like,
but for now, we just blades of grass trying to reclaim the normal, because before you were, we were. I wonder as I wander so God help.
Copyright © Abol Andrew Moses Chrispus 2021
From birth to death, each of us walks alone,
in as a narrative we wish to feel,
thus as we embrace, release and atone,
we rely on God’s love and light to heal.
In a subject-object relationship,
we believe ourself to be feeble form
and engaged in games of one-upmanship,
earth life for most part, is a turbid storm.
We know not who we are and yet live on,
in pursuit of ephemeral desires
and so it continues, both praise and scorn,
until the day our exhausted heart tires.
Shifting horizons now hold no appeal,
somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal.
Somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal,
discovering our efforts were in vain,
upon which in altar of God we kneel,
praying love and light glows in heart again.
Recognising that we script not our fate,
shifting into silence, we become still,
making our heart once more, childlike and chaste,
that by grace divine, voids within may fill.
Having thus relinquished our thought flow crutch,
we surrender, melding head with our heart,
ingraining direct wisdom by soul’s touch,
mindfully choosing to add love to cart.
Emptiness then, is the way to begin;
cave of heart’s open, so we go therein.
Cave of heart’s open, so we go therein,
remaining aware with nary a care,
whereupon we feel magnetism plug-in,
cajoling our polarities to pair.
As a receptor, there’s nothing we do,
for to be truthful, there is no road map
and each nuance felt is pristine and new,
drawing us to God by closing the gap.
We shout from the rooftops but no one hears,
unable to comprehend the bliss flame,
held in benign currents, God Himself steers,
revealing deep wisdom that has no name.
In a realm dual, in bondage to mind,
we know not the truth, because we are blind.
We know not the truth, because we are blind
but now having seen, with our inner eye,
we cognise God is wise, loving and kind,
known if we agree to let ego die.
We cling to identity, which is not,
in as it is merely a thought construct
but on shifting to heart, as we all ought,
our false self dies, we see it self-destruct.
It is clear that although monks wish to share,
the wisdom sublime, they have so imbibed,
those who refuse to see, just cannot pair,
enslave by ego, which has always lied.
Harvest of grace is reaped, as of seeds sown;
from birth to death, each of us walks alone.
Today we celebrate Noah Webster and his creation…the dictionary…without them you might say we’d be speechless…we’d have no vocabulary.
For how important are words once they form within our heads…with their ability to evoke emotions the moment they are said.
A word, itself, is not beautiful or ugly…complimentary or demeaning…it’s only in the context and the way we say it that gives a word it’s meaning.
Words when spoken from a place of love have a musical refrain…words when spoken from a place of hate are meant to damage and cause pain.
Some words make us feel good and bring with them happiness…let me name a few…there’s freedom, laughter, joy, peace, love, compassion and family too.
Some words when uttered leave fear and sorrow in their wake…like Alzheimer’s, Aids, war, death…tornado and earthquake.
I remember when a friend informed us her doctor wanted to see…if cancer was growing inside her…so she ordered a biopsy.
Biopsy…now there’s a word with the ability to fill ones heart with fear…as you anxiously and hopefully wait for the doctor to say the words you want to hear.
It’s interesting that as word spread of her biopsy that was planned….words of encouragement came rushing to her from all across the land.
Words of love…of compassion and support…words easy to comprehend…drifted softly…blended together and landed on our friend.
Our words were one way of showing her we were thinking of her…that we cared…one way to let her know her fear and apprehension was something we all shared.
And as we all awaited the results…hoping our world might realign…our apprehension turned to exhilaration when we heard the word…benign.
It is amazing how one day one word can cause so much woe..so much anguish and concern…and the next day another word replaces it allowing joy and happiness to return.
And so I wonder if Mr. Webster, the lexicographer, would agree…if we only used kind word from his dictionary…how happy we’d all be.
How words of kindness and love are an investment used to gather friends…and one day, when we need it…those words pay dividends.
For when I think of our friend’s frightening experience…it is the words of her friends I recall….leaving me to wonder if words of love…of support…of kindness…of compassion and of friendship…aren’t the most beautiful words of all.
A man like you considered I a myth...
They just do not exist in nature.
There must along side something odd herewith.
Dark and poignant. I meet you, stranger.
You read, you write, you're just great with people,
You are decent, honest and content.
While you are caressing my bare nipple
You like my jokes, laugh and pay the rent.
You are genuine, creative, daring,
You try new things out and you like kids.
I met you weeks ago and now I'm scared
How in the world would I get a grip
On all these feelings, such strong affection?
You have simply set the bar too high...
But you gave me purpose and direction.
I grew a tumor, thank God, benign.
You play guitar and you compose music.
Yet you are successful in a biz
Of suits, agreements, you like my pubic
Hair. You can pleasure me, you're a whiz!
You're into arts and theater, ballet.
Balzac and Rodin - those you admire.
You are set to win while I fell astray.
You will sing and sculpt when you retire.
You are tender, fit, cute and you do sports.
How do these get along together?
You are attentive, kind, you rule in court,
Want to dress me in suit of leather.
You sing, you're politically correct,
Feelings take in consideration.
Oh how losing you one cannot regret?
You brought me hope and liberation.
Oh yes and you negotiate too well.
This art you've mastered long ago.
You are insightful, you are bright, you're swell!
You are simple and you drink Bordeaux.
You prefer treating women like a queen.
That still exists? I thought it doesn't.
You feel real deep but you are made of steel.
I slumped in love all of a sudden.
I surely saw a lot of men before...
I played with them, I tried to tame one
With no success, was left completely sore,
Longed to dissipate. My song was sung.
I closed my eyes, ran from all this hassle.
Negotiating with scum. Little use.
Was occupied with survival, wrestle.
It's when I met you I was set loose.
None of the men I have ever been with
Could touch the bar set by my dad.
Among the boyfriend myriad you're fifth
You topped my dearest dad. I'm glad.
My heart is rocking. Can't believe it! Wow!
Your daughters have a hard time choosing...
I have to learn again to live the now.
They? They'd better get used to losing...
CANCER
I was ten when you invaded our family, when my sixty year old grandfather
died with lung cancer and at that time I never really understood it; but knew
it was a deadly disease for two women closed to our family died earlier with
breast cancer and saw both of them suffering and heard them screaming in pain.
You came back when I was twenty taking my grandmother with stomach cancer.
At least that was one of the causes of her death, although not the primary cause.
You came again and again taking my aunt at forty seven and my youngest aunt
at forty eight with breast cancer that made me live in anxiety and scared of you.
Scared because this disease was in our maternal blood line, although the doctor
assured me, it was not a direct blood line for it was not my biological mother.
I had a cyst on my right breast when I was forty four and the doctor asked to
come back to exasperate it and I told him to do it right then with no reservation.
The result came negative; but your shadow never left me, haunting me.
I was thinking my youngest aunt was only five years older than me and we grew
up together living in the same household, eating the same food, doing the
same things until we separated to live our lives when I was twenty or so.
For five years I lived in your shadow wondering, worrying the cyst would come
back and what would happen to me, to my children and the angst never left me.
I was elated when I turned forty nine for I passed my aunts’ ages of forty seven
and forty eight and celebrated for my fear went away; you were out of my mind.
That was twenty years ago and three weeks ago; you took my best friend’s life.
You are an abnormal cell that invades, grows and divides without control to
destroy the nerves, tissues, organs, blood vessels impairing their functions.
You are a complex disease that can be benign or can be malignant that kills.
Like an ivy, a vigorous and aggressive plant that grows out of control choking
other plants, damaging walls and structures and toxic to humans and pets.
Just like different types of cancer in our society, such as greed, corruption,
brutality, materialism, racism, harassment causing havoc, unrest, chaos, killings.
6/11/21 Cancer Ivy Poetry
Chantelle Anne Cooke
I feel for gentle hearts in this loud world,
Ever suspect, dismissed and derided,
For long has been the shy a songless bird,
That Darwin dismissed as ‘odd state of head’,
Jane Austin gave shyness a broader scope,
Calling it a ‘moral, mental disease’,
And Freud, his fame fending for men no rope,
With sub-conscious cladding, a twist of his
That smelt of ‘displaced love of self-scored goals’,
A simple disposition framed as law,
Oh poking fun and scoring birdie holes,
In matters straight, cobwebs of gauze he saw,
And sensitive violets were on blame,
Poor things, shrunk with self-deprecating shame.
Violets shrunk with disparaging shame,
And shyness drawn from society’s unease,
Scarce unto standard mould can ever squeeze,
O get condemned— a jade that could be gem.
Though sensitive nigh to a gawking gaze,
Here am I basking still in benign bliss—
A shy soul, they say, more inventive is,
And tolerant the more to worldly ways
That mistake plane shyness as being cold,
Aloof, and worse still, somewhat arrogant,
And value those that be loud, neddless bold,
I’m happy now that they were ignorant.
Let critics bask under ill-informed bliss,
I marvel, how creative this bird is.
Creative, this touch-me-not kind of bird,
Or call it a flower called violet,
An introvert of an easy mind-set,
One blessed with fecund skills, a bit absurd—
Skills lacked by too talkatively inclined,
While some greats confess to ‘fainting with fears’
Ere giving speech to some so-called speakers,
Some loners lack the skills called social kind.
I know, shyness has no one ever hurt,
But self that feels cosy under own skin.
Let shyness stay forever verdant green,
Let it never make me an extrovert,
That I live in my own solitude proud,
Innovative, gentle in world so loud.
_________________________________
Two recent books set my thinking bird brooding over bashfulness: The Man who mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks; and Shrinking Violets: The Secret Life of Shyness, by Joe Moran. These books advocate that the shy should get a better deal, for they tend to be more creative. Here is the why: musing over, these three sonnets (crown of…) materialized that made me feel a bit elated.
Crown of Sonnets | 01.03.2017 |
As deepening silence and stillness become our fulcrum
We cognise an energy grid dividing form vertically
We flow with awareness at the pivot of the pendulum
Whilst witnessing the meridian coming to life magically!
Our attention now internalised unendingly meditating
We feel all chakras resonating with the life force
Frequency of each node varying and yet blending
With the reverberation Ohm emanating from the source
Slowly becoming empty within with the pulse of love we align
Boundaries between form and formlessness begin to blend
Our emptiness rich in fullness of elixirous magnetism divine
The residual ego we have now pliable begins to bend
The soma nectar flow increases in potency as of our worship
It is irrelevant to speculate or debate as to its origin
The upper ovoid of Ajna-Sahasrara-Bindu combine in partnership
To enrich our being with vitality and tranquility sanguine
In timeless time the Universe opts to reactivate & renew
The fused unity of kundalini seated at the crown humming
Thus Hiranyagarbha, the cosmic egg splits into two
Shiva & Shakti descend into their abode in heart entwining
Following the union there is then an explosion in slow motion
Teleporting us into climaxical ecstasy & rapture ineffable
The omnipotent burst of power manifesting as bliss celebration
Root to crown ignited & alive as the rod of initiation! A miracle!
The blissful energy benign and yet roaring with full power
It seems that fragile form cannot contain the energy
Yet the gentle curve of unfolding the divine grace shower
Aligns all lifetrons within in beauteous synergy
Energy heightened at chakra zones and alive throughout the grid
Unknown centres and nadis open up as we look on in wonder
In acceptant doerless childlike simplicity we just do as we are bid
Being to become one with bliss in permanence; the soundless thunder!
This phase of consolidation becomes an embodiment of our being
Bliss within always ceaselessly purring
From time to time as of choiceless choice it begins roaring
Be it day or night, such is is-ness of blossoming
Thus we see that at the heart we began
With a simple burning yearning
Give kundalini any name, it’s power Brahman spans
Finally within the cave of heart humming
02-August-2020