Long Chances Poems
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My Psychedelic World
In the next room someone is winning prizes I have never once received,
I sit alone with my thoughts and with this old repeating theme I've never left or grieved,
Seven women occupy my mind like seven planets drifting lost in haze,
And peace and quiet are things I haven't found in all my nights and days.
In my psychedelic world variety gives me all my thrills and all my fire,
But the first grade teacher still haunts my sleep with her rules and her desire,
Flowers are red and leaves are green and there is no need to see them any other way,
And I grew up with that sentence nailed into my brain like a spike... and it froze me where I lay.
Why can't flowers be black or violet or transparent like a thought from deep inside,
Why can't the colors flow into each other like psychedelic ink on a blank and open tide,
Conformity is a room without windows where flowers die in the very same shade,
And I pound on its walls with my fists of verse... with no chances... no choices... no trade.
I lay out my winter clothes on the bed and dream of going somewhere far away,
But my women troubles stay in the next room and refuse to leave or fade or fray,
That loud couple keeps on winning prizes through the long and hollow night,
And I keep running down the road trying to loosen my load... trying to find the light.
My mind is a field of black and red and green and impossible flowers growing wild,
The first grade teacher shouts from her corner that flowers cannot be otherwise my child,
But in my psychedelic world flowers are whatever they want and grow however they know,
And this beautiful variety gives me all my thrills... and all my stars... and all my glow.
I sit alone while the world wins prizes in the rooms beside me and laughs out loud,
Seven thoughts race through my mind and none of them slow down or leave the crowd,
But my psychedelic flowers bloom in colors the teacher never thought to teach,
And I keep running... free... and alone... and colorful... and untamed... beyond her reach.
Education has never deluded me,
it is a rich mine from which my gemstones are extracted;
and all of them can adorn with its brilliance
a king's crown, but the glitter on my silver pendant...
with my natal sign, not with my image, outshines it
and displays it very elegantly.
As skilled hands relied on mental deftness,
I depended on mom's provincial practicality,
not on chances, but on her canonical guidance;
her words told no canards, only truthfulness:
an illunination of beatitude to encourage and fortify...
and that voice taught me acts of benevolence.
Guessing what was the mysterious name it bore,
would have been quite easy to identify with sharp eyes:
examining the deeds I did and the actions I still compromise,
to conclude with certainty
that it fitted me so perfectly...
I learned that art by listening to clever people with more ardor.
This is not a gift which is instilled
in the infant's brain at birth,
it is acquired by growing somewhat old...
who could have such a prodigious knowledge?
The Old Testament prophets for instance, or possibly
every learned man who studied philosophy.
Spend time with me, and observe how I peruse:
listen to the clear and incisive words spoken aloud,
riddling no mystery, or being derogatory...
proverbs might be included to give some clues;
and they were written in an inimitable way
to stimulate the minds of the unlearned.
Is intelligence inborn or learned by chance,
or even isometric to astuteness?
Many admit it stems from accruing knowledge,
to increase the capacity of the thinker or genius...
accumulating their ideas and earning praises,
while the uneducated struggle with rage.
Logical astutness is efficacious when it invigorates ability,
and exhorts a great deal of mental energy;
and will the proper words be used to that effect?
Happy New Year to all the wonderful Poetry Soup members!
Copyright 210 by Andrew Crisci
Naysayers
You know those people whom
Always have something negative to say,
Got you believing you set your hopes too high.
I could care less about the things you say,
The only real voice that affects me
Is the one in my own home,
The people raising me day by day.
Understand that some dreams,
Are tougher than others,
And it's a competitive field;
But that doesn't mean,
It's impossible to make it real.
I know a guy, a friend of mine,
He's about 16 and he made his dream real.
So, don't give up until you make it real.
To be honest, I'd rather take the chance and fail,
Rather than not take a chance at all.
Sometimes taking chances
Can lead to the opportunity of a life time.
It's like science all over again;
Howard Schultz, Thomas Edison, or even Graham Bell.
Three ordinary people with visions and dreams,
The world wouldn't be the same,
without their passion to succeed.
The world is full of naysayers and unbelievers;
The people whom don't,
Believe you can succeed.
It's up to you to prove them wrong
Live your life and find out where you belong.
the early sun drapes gently across the branches
a whisper of promise, of new golden chances
A BRIGHT MORNING OPENS EVERY QUIET DOOR
and shadows retreat where the sun will restore
love clings tenderly in petals that shine
hearts lift overhead like branches that climb
BEAUTY BECOMES BLOSSOMS, BOLDLY BREAKING THROUGH
and faith feels steady, reshaped and born anew
waves whisper gently, curling near the coast
dreams drift forward, the ones I cherish most
COURAGE CAN COME, PEACEFULLY CALLING ME HOME
leading the lost where the spent still roam
night leans close and stars give counsel to the sky
hope clears gently and grief learns to fly
DREAMS DESCEND QUIETLY, GLOWING THROUGH MY HEART
and love, unwavering-binds what was torn apart
To much information
For over 10 Year's now
Not unlike a Handmaids Tale
But not in Snow White Hat & Scarlett Cape
My Uniform i regail in is rather that
Top 2 Toe in frustrated Solid Purple
The only touch that i have felt
over these said Baron Year's
Are in my Dreams have felt
And substitute they may be
I miss what i have dreamed
more and more each morning i awake
I realize this fact when i wake
so to my dreams disappear and the
only thing real left is me poorer and more lonely than 1 night before
In reality my Cup doth not runeth over
It is neither empty
nor half full
It simply has only come to represent
Was what i took for granted
Was i would fall in love again
And once again feel sexual intimacy
But no dream over these past 10 + Year's
Can substitute 1 single smile upon your face
Nor galaxies i seen explode and dialate behind the pupils in your eye's when you writhed and screamed you were about to come
Nor can it replicate your sweet scented smell and feminine taste you radiate when your on heat
And the way you used to thank me for going down on you like somehow it was a chore nibbling and licking on your 2 pink lips the left ever so bigger than the right
Nor can a dream ever in a billion lifetimes compare with 1
memory of you in state of undress heaving breast, pert errect hard nipples telling me that you love me
No on off button
No reset
No restart
No 2nd chances
No Glitch
No Matrix
No Red or Blue Pill
No De Ja Vue
No life lessons
No advice
Mistakes are for Life
Played out in Dreams
Every way they tried to make me fear;
Could never sway the connection I felt.
Everytime I am alone, I wish he was here.
This longing is how I atone for the cards I had dealt.
Every way they tried to convince me,
To stay away from taking chances;
Only boldened my curiosity of all of the powers that be,
Leading to only a couple of serious romances.
Every way they try to tell me how I should lead this life,
I can counter with all of their own failings,
Remembering they too lived through their own strife,
So what right do they have to despise my daydreamings?
Every way the world ever tried to make me fear
The suffering you were subjected to,
I always knew you would be a friend so dear,
I already knew, you're the wild card that can help me through.
Now enough with excuses
you’re just a useless loser
making no effort stuck in a routine
bad habits need a new thing no magic
use your uses for this
alike when you abandon booze and cannabis
grew strength to abandon it
see you win when you fight
but all you do is flight
confusion gave you that bike
but confusion now wise
after confusion died
including depression goodbye
anxiety clings on
finish it off
advantageous circumstances offer no second chances
you grappled for this vantage don’t watch timid as it passes,
time now to stand tall not flaccid pump the blood spastic get active
been small stand massive sod passive
become the master
surpassing the class
of the master class
that laughed called you daft
Your head is clear
the chance is here
if it passes, life does too
No Fear
From Earth and Through
Steeping whilst stepping
From realms made in this world
Into patches of pink and yellow clovers
Covering the paths in static hope
Crushing through them
While wishing to apologise
Except this feels like an acceptance;
An accommodation for pattering feet
Like swallowings of excess
Carving through in roving rivulets
As the most joyful and innocent of destruction
Puffs of attempted balance
Now marshmallowed into impressions
Under the forgiving sunshine
Able to heal them
Should the right patterns of chemical timings
Warmings and coolings apply
Into the next transmutation
Using the needed resources surrounding
To stretch and strive once more
The chances a new patter of footfall
Shall land another fatal imprint
Higher by the bite, the cat scratch, the goat finesse
As it would always be
Here or there
No matter where
I always find the tug
To be alive
At worst, to be destructive
But of course
Only to the allowed extent
How varied are the ways of excess
Of imprinted deathblows
Showing us what we have to overcome
Like careless steps of an ignorant giant
Thrashing wistfully through
And pouring huge drops of tears
Randomly nourishing dots of sun-globed sadness
Slogged consolations to fight over
And avenge for new reasons underfoot
In a finite Earth basket
Just a matter of time
As hands and feet finish their gouging
And sleepless journeying
Known to demand implicitly
Whether to be absorbed
Or charged at an accepted rate
Deemed market-appropriate
So I lend work and productivity
Home-based remedies
Of someone else’s ingenuity
Handed down from ancient history
One shared family belonging
From mutual beginnings
Of simple necessities
And through spiced diversities
parody of "To the Virgins to Make Much of Time" ("Gather ye rosebuds while you may") by 17th-century poet Robert Herrick
Gather ye bargains while ye may.
The big-sale days are flying.
If we don't dash to town today,
tomorrow we'll be crying.
Before the rising of the sun,
the battle will be raging.
Come on! Let's break into a run,
our own war to be waging.
The time is now. When that first door
flies open, we'll be leading.
We'll wildly race from store to store,
withstanding all stampeding.
Let's grab our credit cards and cash
and let them work their magic.
Such chances vanish in a flash.
Now wouldn't that be tragic?
October 20, 2017, entered in Lewis Raynes's Mania Contest
Lonely nights, lonely days,
Lonely sights, lonely ways,
Lonely spots are here to stay,
Lonely thoughts won't go away,
Lonely feelings, what do I do,
Lonely dealings, it's getting blue,
Lonely walks, lonely tears,
Lonely shocks, lonely fears,
Lonely heart, I feel the sting,
Lonely start, my hands I wring,
Lonely dances, no one to pair,
Lonely chances, no one to care,
Lonely skies, no one's around,
Lonely sighs, I'm feeling drowned,
Lonely hugs, I feel alone,
Lonely tugs, I stand and groan,
Lonely, lonely, lonely I feel,
Lonely, lonely, right now my deal.
03/13/19