Long By product Poems
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Be Courageous Above All in everything
You do and become involved in since the
Inverse of doing this is often anathema
To leaning forward and getting things
Done and becoming a viable and vibrant
Force in your own life which is so important
Since we all have just this one chance
Within our mortal coil known as “life”
To make things happen and to make a
Difference and so the message should be
Why wait because the positive impact
You have on yourself can have that
Wonderful alchemic by-product on
Others you know and interact with
In our finite cosmos of the Human
Endeavor and so standup for your
Beliefs and ideas but always be
Polite and gracious to others since
These attributes go a very long way
In helping one to get things done and
In achieving goals both big and small
And so—Be Courageous Above All
Since you only live once with your
Current Soul Body on this most finite
Mortal Earth Plane! (And don’t forget
To laugh at yourself from time to time!)
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(December 12, 2014) (Didactic Verse poetic format)
Manifestation of métier write
As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha rolling stone dishabille poet,
who views challenge of writing analogous
to begetting an heir or heiress,
which former includes
gestation of an emotion,
idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,
not quite ready for prime time
and beak combs devious, industrious,
overconscientious (hopefully), victorious...
though, as swollen womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile Buddha baby
(unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort), the proud
pro-creator bounteous, glorious, riotous
which unexpected success inspires
brassy, ironic, steely wordsmith
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.
Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift manorial man cave
the grateful dead foo fighters quiet, a riot
with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper water nymph sprung from fen
or when the quick brown
(sneaky, leery, and fiery) fox
jumps over the lazy dog
slips into the house,
where the yolk cull doth roost
long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.
the end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble
of gibberish senseless wordy clump
aspiring to convey some essence of logic,
though best to take a furlough than persist
to interpret dump
of discordantly strung English bits,
which intractable insistence
might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p
as the mood one may find them-self,
unless he/she can call
the literary mod squad to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky the once amorphous lump
pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo
an amazing transformation a mugwump,
a cherished poem plump
with juicy fruit weighing down the boughs
as if limbs ready to slump.
The heady scent of earth from early rain—
Soil embracing moisture— and gone ere long,
Nor yet repeated soon enough again,
Short and sweet comes alas a pleasing song.
What rare delight ‘tis rambling by the field
Of bluebells in April, inviting spring!
Its blossoms casting brief spell soon is killed;
Short and sweet comes cherry-blossom's inning.
So fragile be her bloom, so delicate,
A light drizzle can cause her frills to fall.
Good things alas are good for a brief date,
Take brilliant lives, take honeymoon's short call.
Yea, all things lovely in life short-lived are,
Nor beauty’s nor youth’s spells can be stretched far.
---------------------
Heady scent of first rains: Greeks called it ‘stony fluid flowing from veins of gods'. But the fragrance of first rains has science behind it. Certain plants exude oil which is absorbed by soil in dry season. This is released into air along with a bacterial by-product with first rains, as a subtle heady smell, called petrichor.
Sonnets | 05.07.2013 |
Manifestation of métier write
finds yours truly sitting today
December 24th at 2:41 P.M. with slight
hunched over mien as edge of night
quite some hours away when height
of Santa Claus appearance bright
rosy cheeks glow insync with
Rudolph the reindeer red nose.
As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha dishabille poet,
I view the challenge of writing analogous
to betting an heir or heiress
which includes gestation of an, emotion,
idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,
not quite ready for
prime time and beak comb devious
though, as swollen
womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort, the proud
pro-creator bounteous
which success inspires this scrivener
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.
Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift basement den
the dead quiet, a riot
with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper a water nymph sprung from a fen
or when a sneaky fiery fox
slips into the crowded house,
where the yolk cull doth roost
long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.
The end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble
analogous to uglies that bump
of gibberish senseless wordy clump
aspiring to convey some essence of logic,
though best to take furlough than persist
to interpret dump
of discordantly strung English bits,
which intractable insistence
might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p
as the mood one may find them-self,
unless he/she can call
the literary mod squad
to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky trump
petting, the once amorphous lump
pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo
an amazing transformation -
a cherished poem plump
with juicy fruit
weighing down the boughs
as if limbs ready to slump.
Brown the color of the passive ground Autumn I'm falling leaves horizontal the waist by product the leaves leave me Brown blooms with the bloom of unemployed in clouds Grands made from scratch chocolate cake taste the golden tan Brown pancake taste like hot coffee and cocoa yum I'm in pecan much and crunch right on mushroom potato soup delicious feels like synonym of dressing being in down Brown a cloud of pollution Brown the face and skin the many races Brown is a color nurturing ingrown it's the color of Mother Earth Brown so Earthly neutral Brown colors filled and pumping iron serious down-to-earth stable bility protection and supported sense of Duty and responsibilities 5th and the listing of last names I'll be around must be own wit
BROWN
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
The root of all suffering is striving
For something we aren’t or don’t have.
Desire per se isn’t the problem at all
As it’s just a natural response to being alive,
But attachment to that object of desire certainly is,
And yet attachments can be good,
Such as the attachment to being alive…
But striving for something we aren’t or don’t have
Implies a basic dissatisfaction
With what we are or have,
And this implies a basic misunderstanding
About what we are and the nature of things in general.
Things are just things
They come and go,
And obviously they don’t always come,
But when they do,
They also always go.
Who we are is more of a mystery.
And I wouldn’t want to spoil that mystery for you
So I’ll leave it at that.
But exploring and discovering more about it
Is, needless to say,
The sine qua non of being human,
And yet all too many haven’t figured that out yet,
Which is acceptable for children but not adults,
And in fact may define what it means to be adult.
So, Life; living, eating, drinking, breathing, reproducing
These are the obvious givens,
And yet the mystery of it all
Remains hidden and illusive
Waiting to be discovered in our own way
On our own terms
And thus remains always a mystery
Always just beyond thought,
A something that isn’t a thing,
At the tip of our tongue,
At the periphery of perception
A Deja vu we have dreamt a million times
And yet still can’t grasp.
The solution?
Obviously simple;
Don’t think about it,
Stay so busy you don’t have the time or energy to.
In this way satisfaction comes effortlessly
As the by product of simply staying alive.
Work or play, what difference does it make?
Not enough you say?
Well then, enjoy your suffering!
(8/7/25)
GENETIC FOOTPRINTS
EMANATING WITHIN HEARTS OF MORTALS
ARE GENETIC FOOTPRINTS BEQUEATHED BY CELESTIAL ESSENCES
WANDERING UPON THE IMMENSITY OF A DYNAMIC TIMELESSNESS
VENERATING ENLIGHTENED SPIRITS EXPLORING ENDLESS SPACES
ILLUMINATING DARK ENIGMATIC PORTALS
One uneventful night, I had an interesting thought that *****sapiens,
might be the by-product of wandering space explorers from a different time
and space, with the instinct and desire to travel far and wide, to seek for
answers of their origins and wished to touch the face of their Creator, but
unfortunately ended up living on planet Earth for a period of time before
continuing on. Questions and desires that sound and feel familiar to us
humans?
Just a thought...
October 2013
Aboard cruise liner:
"Splendour Of The Seas"
with natural binaural and visual ambience...
courtesy bumblebee pollinating clover
Diaphanous wings yield live airplay
vibrations undulate thru ethereal airway
rippling glorious edifications allay
gorgeous fauna and floral array
ears and eyes beheld
awesome buzzfeeding display
flight of the bumblebee laden with pollen
analogous to elegant performance
starring Faye Dunaway.
Crossword puzzle momentarily
distracted by amazing fete
observing crucial insect necessary
transferring pollen to pistils of flowers
with each subsequent visit
impossible mission to differentiate
one amongst countless
gently rumbling Bombus.
June 14th, 2020 thoughts
of doomsday far and away
pitch perfect afternoon yippie yie yay
I could squander hours
observing miracle worker relay
unwittingly alighting then planting pollen,
i.e. the male gametophyte
(DNA) of seed plants
transported to female part of flower
to enable plant to reproduce.
Quintessential lesson relearned
live life foreplay
until... hair turns
more'n fifty shades of gray
pronouncedly more noticeable since salons
and barbershops under lockdown
onset of coronavirus
(COVID-19) spells hooray
satisfying grim reaper
until vaccine acquired
meanwhile (back at the ranch)
think laboratory smart people linkedin,
qua advocating preventive measures,
a fancy word for test
iz pseudo synonym immunoassay
whispered to yours truly courtesy
twittering and tweeting blue jay.
How uncomplicated existence
allotted to birds and bees
simple straight forward purpose
additionally as by-product
to cultivate cheese
just cut away any moldy part
lest thee exhibit symptoms
synonymous contracting poison
(less painful than scorpion sting),
nevertheless nsync with illness
expanding thru body
on par with generic
garden variety archetype disease
ah, I sure wish being human
constituted less cumbersome complication
instead comprised
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious ease
as iterated with aforementioned
half dozen simple life forms
some of which can survive extreme temperatures
and/or even suffering thru a deep freeze
now upon reaching the end,
I expect nothing more emphatic
than ye to ejaculate Geez!
Law abiding citizens nurturing our safe community
we live in a universe of rules written by pencil pushers
Seeming offensive to some and boring to others
gives birth to an underground parallel world out there
Somewhat of a by-product off on a tangent that’s gone astray
it’s the night to the day of our structured monochrome society
Onto shady streets the law of the jungle reigns supreme
its pulse has a raw might that’s visceral and palpable
Theirs is a culture that speaks a foreign language
dark entities settling differences with machine guns
In some concoction of violence chaos and survival
forever keeping score their way etched in blood
Drugs and overdoses every day in every way familiar
jiving on the wrong side of town where we won’t visit
Intertwining realities as normal to them as ours to us
we can’t relate to theirs and they can’t to ours
In their brutal arena the law is an eye for an eye
their justice is savage merciless and unforgiving
Empires built on vengeance of what you want you take
violence begets violence hopefully our worlds never collide
We try to stay blissfully ignorant in our little familiar realm
there’s no reasoning with rebels once the line is crossed
At least in this world our corruption is underhanded
and it’s much easier to maintain the illusion
with our manicured lawns and white picket fences
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 24, 2020 for contest OPINION sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 9TH
Down Down on Broadway Street
You'll find them torn and tattered
Still standing on their feet
You know by lookin' they've been through
fire , the by-product of mankinds ire
Seeing through their eyes
No one hears their crys
The dust , the dust of desire
has passed to pain where hearts do bleed
who who has what they all need
No longer daunted by
the reign of pain
having already drown
unable to stay sane
no longer children with arms
out wide , because the hope
hope inside has died
At what point does it all go
wrong, to be left so completely
with no remnants of song
no whisper of hope
the streets, the streets are home
where they dwell completely alone
this seeming emptiness and space
Baby baby it'll be alright
where now are those voices
far far and out of sight
there is something missing in their night
To sorrow they now surrender
thousands of children no longer fight
for the life that is their right
I hate to say that I've been there
all alone, no one to share
the only youth I had known
the way did come to me at last
even now not completely past
Ex 22:22-24
Jer 22:2-3
James 1:27
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller