Long Culminates Poems
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Insidious, insipid, id-inebriated imbeciles
incite impetus into inevitable immolation.
Bombast, bluster and bluff: blunt batons of barbarian bullies;
backwards behaviour blackballs baronial breed's burdens and bonds.
Weasely, willy-waving warmongers wage wanton war of words
without wit, wisdom or worldliness, whilst we weakly watch and wait.
Regrettable, repugnant reprobates ravage refined realms with
reprehensible rapier-rattling and rancid rhetoric.
Clash of corrupt, contemptible cutthroats carves calamity 'cross
continents and culminates in catastrophic conflagration.
Pointless predatory and political power-plays pale as
pirouetting pariahic pyres patently a pyrrhic prize.
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(16 syllables on every line, checked with howmanysyllables.com)
14 October 2017
Sat here looking thru a stack
Of every I love you you gave
And I thank God for the good times
Specially now you’ve gone away
First a birthday then a Christmas
You never missed a single one
Now every folded memory culminates
With me wishing you weren’t gone
All these cards
Once touched your hands
They’re one small step back
Back to when
Every feeling
Helped warm my heart
There’s more than words
Inside these cards
Some bring laughter, others tears
Yeah who’d have thought, after all these years
How one small something, from a drawer appears
Making you cherish what’s disappeared
All these cards
Once touched your hands
They’re one small step back
Back to when
Every feeling
Helped warm my heart
There’s more than words
Inside these cards
In that envelopes a note from the heart
Don’t you dare say it’s only just a card
When the day comes, that you part
That drawer then holds priceless art
All these cards
Once touched your hands
They’re one small step back
Back to when
Every feeling
Helped warm my heart
There’s more than words
Inside these cards
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
True devotion is born in sacrifice,
by birth in harmonic beauties vice.
The fire that cooks and burns,
affecting the heart as it preserves.
Desire after desire and its purpose,
consideration creating refined corpus.
The faith in oneself that culminates,
to the faith that in Gods grace narrates.
To uproot the question from the ground,
answers by initiation crowned.
Tuning of soul and school of life so dear,
then through light all things become clear.
Whether the treasure is on earth or heaven,
yearnings of the soul all given.
The love stream that flows continually,
one wants to be owned by that mentality.
No wondering about the future or past,
realizing the sacred present ever vast.
Chill the champagne
Activate the festive flair
Turn on our tv set
Tune in to Dick Clark’s
New Year Rockin’ Eve
Enjoy the lively entertainment
Times Square becomes
The center of our universe
The crowd is jubilant
Excitement roars
And culminates
The old year almost over
We join the countdown
Wholeheartedly and loud
There is no going back
Up and up in anticipation
For the celebrated ball drop
Five four three two one
Let’s pour the bubbly
And raise our glass
Hugs and kisses
For all our loved ones
It’s magical and surreal
Another year gone by
We turn the page
Goodbye Hello
We start anew
Dreams launched free
Exhilarate with possibilities
AP: 3rd place 2026, 3rd place 2025
Submitted on February 7, 2020 for contest STRAND NO.670 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
The purpose to create pure truth to see,
the attitude to make God a reality.
The hidden desires of the creator,
secrets of the ever divine mentor.
Testament of beauty every soul pursues,
evidence as prophecy by personal virtues.
Nature of individual inheritance becomes itself,
modesty in spirit beauty intimate self.
A living faith as matter in state of spirit,
kindled souls by word of merit.
To discover the error of self by right,
is the uncovering of the light.
The form of love regardless progressing,
culminates in love of formless blessing.
Situation in life are the mirrors transcendent,
bringing out the real and false intended.
Reflected in the richest tincture of the sky,
colors that change transcendent wings at play.
Knowing spheres and task assigned,
by laws in eternal aesthetic kind.
Guided by orb of wandering planets might
beneath the moon’s refined pale light.
To deserve a watchful spirits care,
brilliant beams of wisdom from the brightest fair.
With beating hearts by compassion wait,
miracles to come with the birth of fate.
(Dedication to Starry Night by Van Gogh, 1889)
Sometimes I find it difficult
to express myself to others.
I've grown accustomed to silence,
with my thoughts racing
lying down at night,
I look at myself and say,
"Who am I to this world?"
Turbulent skies and clouds
with no destination spends
hours awake through the nights
waiting for the dawn as the stars
hide behind its shapeless
soul, then I say,
"Who are you to this world?"
The stars tremble as they hear
the winds in motion, its voice
culminates them causing its simple
nature to shine past the dark void,
as the night draws a path straight
to my empty room,
strong is the light but delicate
are the shoulders that bear
the ungrateful for their daily indifference.
I sail between them to receive
and to endure their hardships,
I ask, "Where are you going?”
I drop an anchor in the center
where the voices of many reach
that don't go beyond a sigh
and I wait, clinging to their hopes.
Perhaps you will see me
the closer I climb to you,
and at last be able to sleep
alongside the forever
hope filled bones and stones.
As my wife once taught me
Women knew all about trimming
and cleaning
and harvesting the fertile forests of Earth
long before I ever thought to depilate my back
and other parts.
As my wife continues teaching me
I am not quite sure what she means
but it feels important
to more than just our reforesting relationship
and its odds of continuing
into future regenerative climaxes.
As my wife predicted,
I forget to carefully listen
until she culminates with climaxes.
And then she surely owns my belated attention.
The matriarch voice of my life
bewitches,
bothers,
and bewilders me
while we fall in love
we become ecopolitically out to lunch,
indefinitely,
reforesting and ecotherapizing
without fear or anger-marketing
about how to transcend vulnerable boundaries
to mutual empathic nakedness.
This matriarch voice and I
love (0)-sum WinWin reforesting
as health care co-operative wealth management
of mutually accessible climates
for spiraling regenerativity trends
externalized as Yang,
internalized reforesting,
reweaving waves of notnot Yin,
wu-wei,
RealTime 4D Ego/Eco-Balancing
Falling in love with Yin
all over again,
PermaCulturing Operas
sung and danced
while remembering
as my imaginary wife continues teaching me
Thought Experiments
through real fractal double-binary
informating
co-gravitating
bilateral ego/ecosystemic time.
I am not quite sure what she means
but it feels wu-wei important
to more than just our reforesting-deforesting relationship
and its odds of even continuing
into future
through past reweaving
regenerative climaxes
of healthy wealth
optimally sustaining
maintaining EarthLivesMatter.
The only problem I find with you
as other people apart from not only
just me
Which has been brought up and mentioned
once or twice before
Is that you seldom seem to able to know
where to draw the line
Because you seem to do it for kick's and
revel in the thrill of it
And when you sense the taste of blood
You go in for the kill and tear your
prey apart into tinny fragment pieces
And it always culminates when you are done
with you licking your lips for fun and
garnering as much pleasure from the
final outcome as you can get
And you never seem to regret or wish to seek
forgiveness for however much harm or
damage you cause
And It simply doesn't bother you in the slightest
the fact that all they did was get in your
way or firing line when you were having a bad
or off days
And asking you stop take into account
or consider other people's feelings
Would be just like waving a red cloth in
front of a bill and not expecting subsequent
wrath to follow
No comforting arms when bad dreams come,
Only confusion inside, What have I done?
Seems like there should have been, a lot more fun.
Oh, go away yesterday
Running with broken arm, too scared to cry,
Living in limbo not afraid to die,
Feeling forsaken, not knowing why.
Oh, go away yesterday
My special treasures given to others,
Always wishing for non-existent brothers,
Never, ever dare say the fault was mothers'
Oh, go away yesterday
Emotions so hidden, protection the only call,
Neglect culminates in long concrete fall,
Destiny is breathless, will that be all?
Oh, go away yesterday
Written 13 May 2018 for
Rhyme and Refrain Contest: Sponsor Broken Wings
3rd placing