Long Clear the air Poems

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Premium Member Rare Finds

I chance upon
This rare book find;
Brown yet beyond
The pages sign.


For days and days,
I sift new thought;
Old wisdom says
Align bold plots.


The author writes
In words said plain;
The reader cites
A fragrant stain.


Each chapter tells
In clear detail;
Each message dwells
How not to fail.


One sheet prelude
For summary;
One attitude
To make me see.


Old book spine weak,
I tear each sheet,
Summary speaks,
Inspired thoughts greet.


I feel delight
At this grand find:
So much insight
To fix in kind.


Words of a seer
With pathway thoughts;
Prompt acts to steer
Fun, wit and plot.


Words that speak out
To inspire zest;
Word profound bout
To light life's quest.


A message found,
"Live On Purpose"
On earthly grounds,
Let love imburse.


Twenty-five sheets
To meditate;
Light for the feats
That gravitate.


Gratitude stills
My heart and mind
For thought and feel
Know love most kind.


The author shows
A wise sure grace;
Dan Millman grows
A sublime space.


The reader heals
Old hurts and pains;
Words heap a fill
That knowing gains.


Old pages ooze
With happy fare;
No need for booze
To clear the air.


Sanguine this talk
Of making sense;
Poignant the walk
Without pretense.


So here I tuck
Rare vintage finds;
Thrill magic luck
With peace of mind.


Read line by line
To glimpse thoughts wise;
Learn to feel fine
For a small price.




Leon Enriquez
13 November 2014
Singapore
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member I LOVE AND I HATE YOU THE SAME

I LOVE AND I HATE YOU THE SAME

How dare you love me, have you no shame?  I'm not just touched I'm insane.  I'm wickedly evil, a cheatin' lil' weasel, Jackass is my first and last name. I'm Joe Dirt when I flirt, Cousins Eddie of work, I aspire to the least that I can. I sure as heck ain't no Marlboro man. I smoke like a chimney, and drink like a fish, I'm a gamblin' man and also a snitch. I'm short, fat, and bald, I don't come when I'm called, I'm likely passed out in a ditch.
I love you and I hate you the same.
I just can't put out this flame. 

I'm a low down, peckerwood, loathsome, misunderstood, weak willed, red pilled, rootin tootin, drinkin, shooting, down and dirty, 30-30, back alley clan rally, hillbilly, redneck, hick.

You're hateful and mean, birthing many mens' genes, and now youre hittin the wall. Gangly & toothless, spiteful & ruthless, you smell like meth and Pall Malls.  Stripping's behind you, bills are all past due.  You ain't nothin but a booty call. Ferally raised, dropped out in third grade, immune to morals, judgment, and mace.  One leg is bowed, you sound like a toad, and you use saddle soap on your face.
I love you and I hate you the same.
I just can't put out this flame. 

She's a botox, detox, skin n bones, silicone, Harper valley, mustang Sally, misfit, hypocrite, "Cops" show viral hissy fit, easy, sleazy, dollar store cheesy, hillbilly, redneck, chick. 

We scream and we cuss, we never discuss,
we'd rather it come to blows. We don't clear the air, and we never fight fair.  She stabbed me and then broke my nose.  A sight to be seen, trailer park king & queen.  We hail what brings others disgust.  We're not worthy of love from heaven above.  All we have left is the lust. I've been feelin sick, since your flame lit my wick.  Penicillin just might do the trick.
I love you and I hate you the same,
I just can't put out this flame.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Ac-Bc-Dc- ---- Peace

When things seem to lose all proportion
And disagreements become the notion
Misunderstandings, (“He said,…she said”)
Differences, righteousness,  (Oh, dread!)
It helps to use some D-C…perhaps a friendly motion
To head off the flack, (as Damage Control)
It may seem absurd, a need to play the role
But, the mediator, the even keel, 
A level head, has great appeal

In case of attack, (whatever it be)
When some are offended…by facts they can’t see
Or if some feel the right, when they strongly disagree
With what others think, or what others may believe,
To bash them or harass them, 
Let us turn on A-C !
To cool down the heat, and clear the air free!

Not to say, we don’t have the right,
To B-C our news....
Just as long as we broadcast without such abuse

We were born with a B-C…written to claim
Signed by our parents, and given our name.
It gives us the right, to live in this land
To worship our own God, to live hand in hand
Whatever our faith, or what we decree
I hope we can be proud, on the day we take leave
When our D-C is printed, declaring desceased…
Let us hope we have honored, a life filled with peace


__________________________________________________________________
DC = damage control
AC = air conditioning
BC = broadcast
BC = birth certificate
DC = death certificate
Form: Rhyme

Can You Smell the Fear

Can you smell the fear,
That is now everywhere,
Even where there is protective gear,
And media outlets of the year.

Extremists and opportunists the only ones to cheer,
As the grieving are tossed up in the air,
While others steal their gear,
It is just not fair,
That those who profess to care, 
Are turning a blind ear,
While planning more ways to spread fear.


When the dust begins to clear,
Who will have power they don't want to share,
And who will have kindness to spare,
Who will have a list of people they want to scare,
And who will be worse off than before,
Who will be deciding what is fair,
And who will be counting money they have made from the fear in the air.

The only things that seem clear,
In this atmosphere,
Is that cosmetic surgery will not clear the air,
And extremism will only spread more fear,
Money cannot replace kindness or a listening ear,
And if we don't give back some dignity to those in despair,
Fear will always be in the air,
Extremists will always be there to cheer, 
With media outlets reporting on all they care to share.

Premium Member Let's Be Clear

In my lifetime,
I have observed and
witnessed some evil things.
Many were news reports, but
some were eye-witness melees.
One notable travesty was the
implementation of 'A Clearing'.
It was called ethnic cleansing,
but there was absolutely nothing
cleansing about slaughterous murder.
Like so much garbage, being cleared
from our living quarters; one people
claiming to be purer than another.
How despicable of us mortals created
in the image of an awesome and loving God
who through His son said, "There is none good;
no, not one". Clear the air we breathe of poisonous
toxins if you will. Clear the rivers and waterways
of debris and waste. But be very clear about this:
There are multitudes of undesirable things and myriads
of non-mortal despicables in need of mass clearings.
But the clearing out of people by any means deemed
less than another is not one of them. Ethnic cleansing
is mass suicide. Let us love, cherish, and care for one
another and leave human clearings and cleansings to God.

021023PSCtest, 'The Clearing'. Craig Cornish


Premium Member Everything In Its Proper Place

Somehow, it seems I have been here before...
There is an old orchard far up the hill
Looking across the golden valley floor
the sky is clear, the air is still

A latticed arbor, entwined and draped
with vine and bloom, is basking in the sun
I see her there!  A slim, familiar shape...
She smiles, and beckons me to come 

O’ my heart!!   
Are you strong enough
to embrace, at last
this fulfillment of your wish?!

O’ my heart!!  
Are you strong enough to welcome
joy so vast as this?!


I step on the path
I feel knees tremble
My world is shaking
A sleeping childhood
has been awakened
Perhaps a dream?
Please, wake me not!

Recognition!
It shines 
in her eyes!

Although
I am,
a woman now....
and not a child!!


Oh God in heaven!!

She 
knows
who 
I
am!!

***

Above her, I see
September geese are winging
to their winter home----

All is right, when things return...
each one to its proper place

*

If this be a dream
wake me 
not
*
*
*
for
I
am
home





~....................~....................~....................~....................~....................~
Form: Rhyme

Conscience and Surviving

Conscience And Surviving
       (*Shadow/Blitz poetry should be read rapidly)

     Clear the air
     Clear of conscience
     Conscience causes confusion
     Conscience derails dreams
     Dreams fail to fit the occasion
     Dreams will melt
     Melt unrealistic margins
     Melt them with fire
     Fire will purify
     Fire burns fast
Fast through flaming houses
Fast over high dry grasses
Grasses continue and turn green
Grasses grow giant lawns
Lawns become giants
Lawns climb mountains
Mountains stay still as they can
Mountains do not leap
Leap over oceans
Leap to the stars
     Stars wink out secrets
     Stars tell scary stories
     Stories of violent creation
     Stories about the hidden dark
     Dark takes over
     Dark creates night
     Night drinks in power
     Night consumes the alter ego
     Ego shrinks to such depths as man
     Ego bathes in the light of day
Day discloses realities intent
Day takes the sun to happy places
Places in the heart
Places rich in passion
Passion recognized by everyone
Passion born from the burning sun
Sun that reaches every soul 
Sun takes solace from shade
Shade has no shadow of its own
Shade belongs to trees
     Trees treat sun and shade the same
     Trees have leaves and religious beliefs
     Beliefs in nature
     Beliefs is little creatures
     Creatures come and go
     Creatures know surviving
     Surviving peacefully
     Surviving gently
     Gently
     Peacefully
Form: Blitz

Premium Member Etched in Stone

Two hearts glare at each other
Clutching their stone tablets
 Written by the finger of their rightness,
  Guarding the secret handshake
In single sighted delinquent tantrums
Refusing to share the offertory
 Of a loving cup - 
Consumed by daggers of thoughtless words
Carved deeply in a scarred heart.

Floral offerings wilt 
Upon stone manifestos
Where ashes of incense lay impotent
To clear the air
And wipe clean the embedded words.

Passion falls in pixels of distortion
Blurring valleys where sacred poles burn –
 Lie in dust written in the past –
Paralyzed 
Unable to rise from handwritten crypts
Placed in captive marble altars,
Epithets like an epitaph for love.

Immoveable stone resists the transcendent
Until forgiveness’ chisel
Re-writes the script of etched words
Crumbling in swaddled tears of humility
That know their need for grace
Consummated in love’s perfect signature.

Premium Member A New Sensation

Well, let me just clear the air right up front,
I'm not here to badmouth the medical profession,
I just question their methods sometimes.
Let me explain, I'll ty to be as delicate as I can.

I went in for my annual physical with Dr. Jeff Jekyll,
besides, my adenoids came out of hibernation again.
Everything went smoothly, until he sent in Nurse Ratched
to take my temperature. That woman has issues.

Now, I've had my temperature taken countless times over,
but nothing prepared me for this. She came in, smiled, 
and told me to drop my pants and bend over the table.
It didn't dawn on me what was about to happen next.

She pulled out this thermometer the size of, and I'm not
exaggerating, a freshly carved Louisville Slugger. 
Insertion completed. It didn't do much for my disposition,
but it did open up a hole new avenue for me to explore.

Premium Member More Troubled Times

More troubled times

My Dear Sweet Melanie, it is a terrible shame,
– for unknown reasons, you choose to remain -
that with this it, who plays a sick mind game
with your beautiful head, with your loving brain,
filling your heart with dread, your eyes with rain.
Without exception, every time, he treats you the same,

– to larger, and larger, and larger doses of pain -.
In your relationship, – I see – he is the only one to gain
from being involved with a beauty like you !
I am at a loss, cannot find the right thing to do.
I would like to see you stand up, move on,
walkaway – look forward – let him be gone.

I seldom have come to know, the reasons why ?,
what it is, or was about, that has made you cry,
for, in your silences, you have kept it from my eye,
– that which breaks your heart – hurts you so.
You may never let me in, you may never show,
And so, Dear, the truth, I may never come to know.

All this, my Dear Child, comes as no surprise,
for he is forever, constantly telling you so many lies.
It is not hard to see- unmistakable – shows in his eyes !

You have made some very unusual choices
and seldom will listen to concerned voices
who’s experiences, wisdom, wants to share

Ones who know, who see, who very much, care !,
who want to spare, - you – try and clear the air
so that you may know a fife that is more fare.

B. J. “A” 2
February 17th 2003
Form: Rhyme

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