Long Conduits Poems
Long Conduits Poems. Below are the most popular long Conduits by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conduits poems by poem length and keyword.
There are things that we sow, and we do not desire to reap their harvest.
In fact, we might later engender aversions to the distaste we created.
But there is a fixed law that says, 'we reap what we sow'.
Inertia remains until an outside force alters its status.
Inertia must be a rarity in our vast volatile universe
because it seems that everything out there is in motion.
Commitment and consistency are always welcome,
But repetition that hopes for change yields a
sameness that is tantamount to insanity.
Dark, demonic, and horror books and movies,
I cannot abide and refuse to read or watch them.
To certain things, I must close my mind.
Our mortal being desires what it sees and feels.
Whether informed or ignorant of the actual cost,
Often, we do not desire to pay the hefty price.
I have an aversion to inhumane traditions.
Does it serve the few and enslave the many?
Is it demoralizing, humiliating, and racist?
I have an aversion to half-heartedness.
Should we not give it our all or not at all?
Sincerity alone does not make it holy.
And I think insincerity is repulsive.
Clearly, Hypocrisy has no winners.
I find narcissism most repugnant.
We have been told that fools rush in
where angels fear to tread. Some fears are
healthy. If the traffic light is red, wait.
Have respect for the ways of Rose as well as Ray.
If an entity is not broken, leave it be; Let it lay.
However, if it is broken, fix it now without delay.
Heroism is earned, not self-proclaimed.
Once upon a time, bleeding the ill was
a medical procedure that later proved
to be totally worthless and deadly.
I suppose that water takes the course of least
resistance because she feels that it is essential
to keep flowing. May we be conduits through which
God's love flows like an ever-flowing river.
092422PSCtest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest.
Strand. 5P
Before there was a world or a word
there was unfathomable loneliness
in the gaseous expanse of pin pricked night
an infinite course of vibrations, sound
nascent, coalescing, gestating,
until planets ripening birthed with souls.
There was only the orb, the throbbing soul
and an unknown longing for word,
conduits formed synapses gestating
to wavelengths of crystalline loneliness,
the aching white noise, static, lack of sound,
and the wanderers of celestial night.
Man was born to such a daunting midnight
aqueous eyes and conical ears for soul
to shattering din’s discordant sound,
no bird song, no harmony, no words,
just an aging, aching, aloneness,
of random thoughts thus wordless gestating.
A rhythm of circular gestation
formed the day and lingering became night
and thus weakened, warmed the loneliness
with woman kind He brought her soul.
Ether resounded with sheet lightening, words
for those sounds were to souls, the God sound.
Strong, silibant streams of understood sound
released from the oval egg of gestation
songs formed as man combined the God like words
croonings of passion fill the nubile night
as joinings rolled-tidal of mated souls.
Word all powerful had freed loneliness.
Each creature gifted an end to loneliness
earth, water, fire ,wind, all given sound,
all graced beloved with shimmering souls,
hatched from the dragon’s egg, life gestates
into the bountiful passage of night.
Cherish the ever present presence of the Word.
No longer alone, a sound vibrating within
each atom relates to the soul, gestation continues
in the night's never-ending cycle of the Word's life.
*My PASSION is SONG
* Many lines have internal RHYME as well as
the end rhyme achieved by the use of the same words.
*Dedicated to inspiration achieved
through the writings of L'Nass Shango & David Smalling
In the depths of the cosmos, a river flows,
a conduit, and vessel of prose, posing as
condensation of Ethos.
Moonbeams dance upon your ethereal ride.
A portal to mystical realms, of open-tide, alche-mist penetrate propellant in seam,
I see your cream of pride.
An incubus of mindful thoughts takes flight,
third eye wind,
let's thought linger to frequency, in pseudo celestial chambers you jump in.
Transcendental trans-human-deitism
quiver manifest plus arrow translate table digest.
Within your river of alchemy and dreams,
imbibed sleep, in glitter pomp
and deceitfullnesting-deposit ory,
whispering secrets in caustic,
cosmic seep.
Calls to mind, attache mirror reflecting, redirect of e theory_els
Quantum Leaps.
Evol of feelings, paint of elixir Alien Elemental,
stirring in chamber, chalice solvent silvery poison ale.
Your fluid tongue drips from beneath
damnation's skies.
For illuminating half truths
Into each glistening lie.
Your telepath
In Touch of Fairy Magic,
a malicious quickening dye.
O liquid stardust muse of musings,
Incubus's seed
of mindfulness,
filled with blasphemous possibilities,
is what you pretend not to be.
But a revealer of secrets, reveler in revelations
and aid to humanity.
O condense of moonbeam,
portal pool of dream scape residue.
Inn of collaboration of Morpheus and Hermes and Hephaestus's accomplice accomplished
's ethereal machine dew, of ai.tear.
Metal voiced whispers aloft carry your gear,
your secret keeps of lingering entrail
of residues areared.
Portal to realms, connecting conduits, material face uncovered of Hades- Siren's veil of silvery blue,
mini Wilky Way Tycoon, moonlighting
as a Science Toon.
Remember, you were de commissioned, rebuked at the second Council of Chyren's Dunes.
Lord, give me an ear; One that hears and listens; One that transports feelings To the heart and not the mouth;
Ears that absorb the griefs of others Like a sponge, and release reassuring Light like beacons of the night; Ears that Are conduits of healing and restoration.
Lord, give me an ear that needs no voice, But eyes that gaze into the hearts of hurting souls, And without lips, echo the sounds of genuine comfort, Lasting compassion, understanding, and enduring love.
102921PS
born under the sea, an irresistible force
two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
equatorial deep-time child of Laurentia and Avalonia
journey northward, surfacing, submerging
surfing the waves again, a colder Hibernian dalliance
precariously perched on Eurasian plate
old bedrock confused, youthful erosion above the ancient order
darkness entombed around channelled winter light
early New Grange civilisation, the Boyne valley before the blood
river mouth vikings, raiding, assimilating
birth of the coming capital, eastern stronghold, Baile Atha Cliath
chain-mail Norman conquerors castle-building
appointing pious supplicants with sword, cloth, crook and cross
wholly unholy alliances unravel
rival hierarchies sharing ill-gotten earthly reward from overseas
saintliness, brutality, men and women
expanding Christendom, pagan kingdoms adjusting to defeat
Patrick, Brigid, Columba, Columbanus
Irish civilising roman catholic conduits, Dalriata to Lindisfarne
outreaching, a strand of Irish character
yet to encounter future revisionary metaphysical thought
protestant rebellion, mainland overspill
praying elites competing, preying on the island's god-fearing people
avian watchers on Skellig pinnacles
warm ocean currents well-up, catching the southwestern gale
enduring the ill-will of nature and man
supplanting, subjugating, saving souls, the power of might and fear
treachery within or well beyond the pale
fair and dark hair, ginger genetics existing on the edge of life
tossed thin people hanging on, many leaving
scraping blighted ground, returning to the sea, promise of the unknown
I stand neck-high tall
within the quicksand
of my infirmities.
Green and gaunt,
I hesitantly genuflect.
Ravaged tendons and corpuscles
are barely breathing
within the vacant corridors
of a soiled carcass.
My ardor for vindication
has been abandoned.
I presently refrain from accepting
the consultation of
umbrous soothsayers.
Readers of tealeaves and tarot cards
hurl my infractions towards
the apex of your divinity
and the nadir of my scrutiny.
I espy no Judas rope
(dangling from lofty boughs)
as scores
of unanswered novenas
sleep beneath my fingernails.
Scars flourish upon my skin -
agnate to larvae
and dried leaves.
The density of my marrow
turns moss covered and dank.
Choirs of starving nestlings
bear witness to my afflictions.
Swallowing the last notes
of a disenchanted requiem;
they slowly bind my wrists
with twigs of knotted reflections -
as Harper Lee's macaws
peck my cheeks and
the calculated feast ensues.
A murky blanket
of eventide quilts me
in fibers of remorse.
Lesions burst
underneath my skin;
they herald my inhumanity
as I impishly smile.
Connect-the-dot cold sores,
(not found in children’s books)
entwine a raw endoscope probe -
mocking
my charted results.
Inky woodlands
are devoid of carnival mirrors
and inner deliberations.
Such forms
of bun coed celebration minuet
within another's emptied psyche.
The conduits
to my umbra are blocked.
All exits are closed.
So, into the woods I go,
medicine chest-closed
and matchstick available.
Searching for answers
the starving nestlings
formerly consumed.
Tantra being the path of energy
To facilitate divine connectivity
Triad from gross to subtle to emptiness
Are three basic tools for getting to oneness
Eventually no path higher or lower
Although some are faster and others slower
Essentially divine reality omnipresent
It depends upon how we choose to be sentient
Taking theoretical knowledge of chakras as a given
We may embark upon the offered suggestion
So plunging into technique number five
Vibrancy in stillness that makes us jive
Employing imagination along with our breath
Breath silent descends via Sushumna in stealth
Where at root in supreme glory resides the Para Shakti
Empathetic to our trepidation smiles in loving geniality
The practice involves cessation of breath as prana
Surrendering in wonderment to behold the divine enigma
Content as a child in the lap of the divine mother
We know not where it takes us for the bliss shower
There then being upon our part no striving
For at the Muladhara itself we feel the pulse vivifing
We rest all vicarious knowing of chakras & nadis
Each cell within our form holding the divine in entirety
Para Shakti illumines the Sushumna with her radiance
Each chakra in its own right Shiva in full brilliance
We thus rest as Shakti decides imbibing the divine elixir
For who are we to suggest any imagined vector
As far as subtlety goes the Sushumna too has layers
Revealing invisible conduits depending upon our prayer
Unfathomable is the ultimate divine mystery
Yet each coordinate perfect for divine connectivity
27-August-2020
“If God omnipresent, He must be resident within
We must feel then now, bliss tremors on our skin”
__________________
Been there, done that
Fleeting pleasures fall flat
Mitigated pleasure of intimacy
Foiled by stuporous delinquency
Where may be found zenith rapture
Raising stature above body caricature
Where peaked ecstasy each throb renews
Climax unending as soma nectar bliss spews
Restless Anna set off on an adventurous world tour
Lifestyle bohemian, French-kissing many a boor
She tried Kama-Sutra, frolicked with Shamans
Finally all proved to be ephemeral liaisons
Her heart burning with ardent yearning
She found not that ecstasy enlivening
Upon reaching point of exhaustion
Surrendered, entering meditation
A voice then broke the silence
‘Choose divine entwined parlance
Here and now, in this feeble mind-body
Meld head with heart resting desires shoddy’
Anna did as was told and in timeless time, behold
Polarities within form manifested ineffable bliss untold
Hidden conduits throbbed with magnetic electricity
Radiating from within, climaxing joy in continuity
Anna now knows, in being and so becoming
Vibrant blissful soul presence scintillating
Bliss bubbles burst, quenching her thirst
From head to toe in bliss so immersed
Thunderous rapture within pulsates
To the music divine her heart gyrates
Moment by moment, all moments be one
Her aura radiating glow of the spiritual sun
16-August-2021
Anna And The French Kiss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
heart beating breath flowing thoughts spiralling
mind body appears to be in incessant motion
limited in space time and senses confining
so we plunge into the void of cessation
thoughts negated so ego recedes
yet pulse of innate aliveness continues
layer by layer fears and desires we do weed
each moment reborn as awareness self renews
time stretched silence as our flowing orientation
witnessing all movements within and without
embraces and releases each sensation
nonchalantly as we thus go about
we are still yet there is a mover
sensing strange magnetism within
our presence feels divine presence hover
each pore of form in thunderous bliss ignition
radiant electro-magnetic heat in time does rise
navigating its path through hidden conduits
acceptant spirit beholds joyous surprise
vaporised self in surrender resolute
obsolete mind concepts fall away
all analysis of wonderment paralysis
with childlike exuberance we gently sway
divine grace transmuting mind body by catharsis
scriptures have conflicting views on magnetism
with each affirmation having its own validity
suffice to say bliss fills in-form chasms
teleporting us to tranquil serenity
as a humble conduit of the divine
we receive and transmit Gods energy
mind and heart with pulse of bliss aligned
purring magnetism with love and light in synergy
08-April-2021
Eyes! Eyes! The two of them,
Like guards, at the body's helm,
Like lovers, pining to meet,
Held back by the neb's bridge.
They’ve seen the light and the dark,
The shine, the grandeur and the stark.
The lass, the beauty and the beast,
The war, the mayhem and the peace.
Conduits to the world outside,
Pieces of the vision, they capture,
In small blobs of color they divide,
To print them on the canvas of the brain.
See, they do. But do they see?
Their unsung twins, hiding,
Unseen, in the voids of the soul.
Seen only by the metaphysical,
Abstract notions of the mind.
They don’t see the light or the dark,
Or the ear-splitting thunder's spark,
Or the black or the white,
Or the babe's coos of delight.
See, they do. But do they see?
Yes! They do see,
That forced smile, out of place,
Unaligned with the contours of the face,
The sheen of a saint's heart,
Or the innuendo of a helpless tart,
The pain behind a beggar's cry,
Or the spirit in an athlete’s try,
The hate in a killer's eyes,
Or the integrity of a gamblers dice.
Eyes of the body, eyes of the soul.
See, they do. But will they see,
eye to eye, yes - eye to eye!
For one can see a man dying thirsty,
In the stretch of the ocean’s infinity.
And the other can see a man dying lonely,
in a sea of crowd, slowly!