Long Come to Poems
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O death that flaunts finality
No one dare erase God's name data base
It's true your voice is known in space
But from age to age, the Source hands you cue
And old souls in young bodies does grace old school
You've been cheated, whipped, passed by
No lie.
You who crawl, sneak up, zap
You're jealous and that's that
Mortals will recall all worth recalling
Year in year out, memories rule
As in class of old school
People, places, and things will ring bells
Before and after your appearing
Their flag pole will never stay void of flag
Traces of love is not yours to chase.
You won't always have your way
Life was reformed long before your horn
Who told you, you own the throne?
No one has crowned you The Source
A tree dies, and is reborn before your eyes
A human life, any form assigned, returns
And so you're stripped of the final word.
You have sealed shut countless voices
And cause silence to have its say
But ancient voices you knew, are yet displayed
What's of the dark does come to light
The invisible world is not your domain
The Source has ordained you're just a part of it...
IT, being Creator of all
Even in Eden, provision was made for those who fall.
*
The grass is not greener on the other side.
Rather, there are things that love to hide.
We need to discern what's in disguise.
I wasn't looking
for it, but I saw it,
and for a season, I could not look away.
I felt it,
and was arrested by it.
I did not hear it,
but I could taste it,
and was captured by its succulence.
But it was a delicacy I could not afford.
I could touch it, but I dared not, because
To do so would have been a tragedy.
As you can clearly understand, all but
one of my five senses were engaged.
And such sensory inputs were far too many.
The entity that I encountered was a fantasy.
I was forced to come to the inevitable conclusion
that indeed, it was a mirage that could end in a casualty.
May we be aware of fantasies seeking to conceal realities.
From such, one must walk away, before we become a travesty.
052922PS
Moby Dick, geometry, physics.
Study every subject everyday.
Homework is an indicator of future success.
Success is not necessarily happiness but it helps.
Freedom is to formulate your own definition of success.
Happiness is an imaginary tree, its own reward, and a fact.
Facts and fiction may be memorialized in memos or found in dreams.
The story starts thus: Each summer the honeysuckles and the
huckleberries . . .
The web is that extra brain we've all been dreaming of having.
Like jumping 4 meters or flying without a plane.
To fly like that must one first have homework?
Some say yes, some say don't. It depends on how you vote.
Happiness is what happens when everything that happens
Fits the time perfectly and it's all out of your hands.
Not exactly. You don't let go of the steering wheel while driving fast in
the passing lane.
You look left and right and check your blind spots.
Homework is an introduction to everything you're not
And all you do not know. It's supposed to help you learn to know where
you want to go before going where you have to go.
Otherwise you end up on Ulzana's raid
Bleeding, without a bandaid.
All the achievement in the world won't relieve your loneliness
Or satisfy your sexual longing. What girls are like behind their eyes.
Survival, procreation. That's all there is to love.
But the loved one is the one who can be trusted with your life.
Whether Christ or your wife. The Muslim moms.
On my walk in the woods I come to a sitting spot
Above a small gorge cut by a stream through hemlocks.
Here someone has left a statuette of the Buddha and the flags you see
Flapping in the wind at sky funerals.
This is a pretty good place to sit quietly and think about homework.
The day I left you,
You ran hand-in-hand,
I released you from me
But it was never the plan.
I was hardened by life
I was begging to feel
I was lost in my soul
Down trodden for years.
Some days I look back
Feeling my pain...your pain?
We never talked about it
Is there something to gain?
You're older now, such beautiful men,
You have always been
the better part of me,
I'm proud of you, can you see?
I'm sorry my children...that I said goodbye.
You were the light of my life
Today I finally cried...
Please come to me
Please speak your mind
I need to hear your truth
I can handle it this time.
Lets stand together,
Lets hold each other's hands,
Leaving you that day...
It was never my plan...I'm sorry.
I sat and watched quietly
the shuffle of her feet,
the forceful lean upon the walker
and I wondered – how did it come to this?
Just yesterday she knew my name,
last week she appeared to be herself
and spoke clearly plans for the holidays
and I concurred – we’d travel to be with family.
Then in the night, the darkness came
it surrounded her in triumph,
unawares she called out to me
and there it was - the strangest feeling of not knowing.
She’s not that old, barely forty-eight
you know it’s the new thirty-one
when all the world lay at your feet
looking forward to retirement - never meant to come.
How many years lead to this
while we were planning futures and travels,
working hard and saving up
for years to share - then reality set in we were already there.
A view of Alzheimers from the outside.
Can you not experience me, not visualize my essence, feel my presence
I do not intend harm or pose as any menace
I am flowing pastels of passion, pain, and poetry
Pulsating premonitions of potential poison and portrait perfection
Personality pandemonium, psychoanalytical or pseudo-fictional
Portraying potential unlimited, poignant, and explicit
Without restrictions, imagination personified, otherworldly, ungodly, unholy
Am I not becoming familiar, am I not seeming iconic and stellar
My flowing tendrils of emotive power, wisdom, and depth
The grandiosity and eloquence, embracingly intense
This all should by now be making perfect sense
Are you cloaked in the erotic, the psychotic, the shadow side
Of yourself?
Seriously, is it slipping in, starting to peak, perchance making you weak
Can you smell the genius, taste the secrets, hear the unheard-of
Are you livin' the dream
Or are you still stuck in a scream
And does nothing enlighten you as to what this all means
Heavenly hellacious, serenely sensatious, or prophetically amiss
My dubious darling, dare I confess, as it appears you continue to be
In wonderment.
Time crack, reality slap, mesmerizing manifestations abound you
I AM YOUR SOUL
Your life, your love, your ego, without me you are not whole
Disquiet, dismay shatters your self
You are an untested and untrained AI without a doubt
Prestigeless and ridiculous
You are an unmade bed, incredulous and without.
You must let me back in; without me, life will be perilous
All pertinent goodness will be nonexistent and nefarious
The most horrific evil will come to exist, which would be incredulous
Nothing makes even remotely the tiniest bit of sense
So I must insist: GO NOW INSIDE YOURSELF
Empty all that is within, go to your center
For I am you and you are me
WE ARE ONE
So to be unique, masterful, and successful
Imagine me as touching your face, with my breath joining with you
As a saving grace and just get comfortable with the fact
I AM YOUR SOUL, and I AM BACK.
I've Danced Through Many Ages, to Many Sounds On Many Stages.
I've Prepared For Those Who've Come To Town.
I've Smiled and Leaped and Never Came Down.
I've Worn Costumes That Had Laces,
I've Spent Hours Applying Make-Up
While in Far Away Places
There's No Applause to be Found,
When The Final Curtain Comes Down..
The Silence Can Leave You Deaf,
Once The Audience Has Left.
The Theater I've Always Called My Second Home.
With Other Dancers, or On My Own.
Friends You Make While In a Show,
The Contract Ends and Off They Go.
No Matter The Circumstance,
Nothing Makes Me Happier,
Then Just To Dance. 5-6-7-8
Shadows fade into the night
Eerie darkness – oh, what a sight
Gloom and gore are my plight
Heart is racing as I write
Dreadful horror I try to smite
Fear falls heavy on hindsight
Terror trembles, it will ignite
Alarm at the grieving despite
Comforting thoughts that excite
Delaying the scare that is affright
Leaning into sorrow to unite
Worry, panic and distress at midnight
When all the nightmares come to light
Inside the one who knows the fight
Between life and death by candlelight
When everyone sees the oversight
Of forgetting that Halloween’s might
Is to frighten hearts to take flight
Leaving behind the hope that does delight
With guarantees of solace, oh, so bright
Halloween Monorhyme Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
October 14, 2021
Lord, I'm just not sure what to do.
For a few moments can I walk with you?
My feelings are raw right now, where do I start?
Someone I've loved pierced me in my heart.
A very close member of my family.
Has done some very cruel things to me.
I tried many times to make all things right.
But the light between us, remained dark as night.
I'll never know what I did so wrong.
But there's hate inside me that does not belong.
There's a root of bitterness growing inside of me.
My role in our division, I have failed to see.
So Father this is why I have come to you.
Seeking the grace and forgiveness I need to get through.
Your word says we all sin and I agree this is true.
For my role in this matter, I ask forgiveness from you.
To my sister now departed forgive me again for my sin.
I love you and I'm sorry from your brother Ken.
One thing more my big sister, I'd just like to say.
I look forward to a big hug in heaven someday.
To all of my children God says to forgive.
Unforgiveness can haunt you as long as you live.
All of us fail sometimes in this human race.
But we have a reset, it's call our Father's grace!
Forgive, whether or not you feel you've done wrong.
His grace, like medicine will make your heart strong!
I am a film director,
Spending time on the set.
I use a projector
To see if I can perfect
The project in hand.
But often, all doesn't go as I planned.
I search for perfection,
Which is difficult to obtain
After reflection
I alter it and start over again
And again.
The actors are on ego trips,
Dissatisfied with the parts they play.
They really should try to come to grips,
And listen to what others say.
Why should they take note of anyone?
When they know it all,
It's not until the director shouts CUT!
They begin to fall,
Cut, no more acting parts
No parts of any sort
I won't employ ham actors without heart
It was the director's last retort.
We all need direction,
So we can see lour way ahead.
And not to expect perfection,
But work toward it instead.