Long Dependency Poems
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Perhaps it's my theory; or is it my unwritten hypothesis? It's not a proven fact, but just a personal observation.
There are some people who geniunely need other people. At least in their minds, they cannot live without other people.
And I must say that I'm not speaking of co-dependency. There are people who geniunely do not need other people.
At least in their mind, their lives are better without other people. And I must say that I'm not speaking of anti-social behaviors.
There are lyrics in a popular song that seem to address this topic: "People who need people are the luckiest people in the world".
For the longest time, I did not understand the meaning of the song. It's nothing that I really talked much about, but I think I really get it now.
I once had an overseer and friend whom I considered to be a 'social animal'. In other words, It seems he had an addiction for people beyond normality.
I'm not sure if he felt pulled to them for their better well being, or wealther there were wounds in his own soul that required unusual social connections.
Anyway, perhaps the song is right; people who need people are luckier. Some are less social, but human nature seems to compel us towards each other.
12072017 PS Contest, People. 4P
be not a receptacle to that spirit of sin
live by the word of God and be open to Him
in this day where the lines of morality have become blurred
where people believe and do all and anything that's absurd
caught up in the grasp of drugs and chemical dependency
caught up in the muck and mire of sexual immorality
yet society tries to explain away any and all aberrant behavior
and a psychiatric evaluation has become acceptable and favored
we're now subjected to the blame of others and their bad actions
subjected to the world's desensitized and apathetic reaction
overcoming the temptation to commit sin
to yield not to that demonic presence again and again
if you don't understand and comprehend the word of God
how do you know if you have any sin in your heart?
you need to read the word of God and follow His commands
the instructions on how to live sinless, God's master plans
to wrestle with the evil that may at times reside within
to overcome that sensation to go out and commit sin
you need to be exposed to God's laws and learn right from wrong
you need to do a self reflection and then come away strong
for it's one thing to do what is sinful if you don't have a clue
but it's a different story when you knowingly sin for the blame is now on you
to be disobedient and stray from God's life living instructions
will lead you down that crooked path of spiritual destruction
so think before you act and then lay it before God
pray on that temptation to sin and possess a contrite heart
to challenge that temptation to commit sin
just dwell on the word of God and not the unholiness of men
yet we continue to try and justify some of the things we do and say
we need to be truthful in our hearts and willing to change our ways
no longer to be arrogant and sanctimonious in this life
to be more humble and repentant as a child of the Lord Christ
we pretend to act like it's not us but everyone else
we need to take a hard look in the mirrors at ourselves first
to come to understand that this battle is not ours alone
to realize we need the strength and the power of the heavenly throne
to be rescued from that temptation of sin that's always hanging around
to be lifted up by the word of God and placed on higher ground
to turn to our savior, the Lord Jesus the Christ
to thank Him and praise Him for the gift of eternal life
Ever since I was a kid in college
something troubling has been on my mind,
put evolution near morality
and many contradictions you will find.
Our instincts versus our sentience,
blood programming pit against free choice,
and now matter how I looked at it all,
there were hard truths that I could not avoid.
That so many things we think are moral
give us no evolutionary edge,
that the only place some virtues work
is in the world that’s inside our head.
The nice guy always does seem to finish last,
functional bullies get all of the girls;
men are not loved unconditionally,
only for what we bring to the world.
We like to think we can talk it all out,
but sometimes people do need a smack;
we study hard to make things better,
then just get farther and farther off-track.
We give to help those people in need,
then it just ends in dependency,
so many thinks that we think must be right
just seem to deepen the tragedy.
The things that we think, the things that we feel,
seem to drag us all until we’re insane,
what we want to build, and what the world allows,
are not exactly one and the same.
When I realized this, and other such things,
I spent many years just trying to think
of why evolution would produce a beast
whose brain would contradict its own instincts?
Why can we think of things that can never be?
what good are goals we can never achieve?
It seems like we’ve been set up for failure,
there had to be some reason, I believed.
For those reasons I chose biology,
got a professorship and did research,
probed deeply into the depths of the mind,
won countless accolades for my work.
Ran across endless theories of why
we contradict ourselves at such cost,
but every bit solved brought ten new questions,
all that toil, and I was still at a loss.
But the need to know remained every strong,
and though it nearly cost me my career,
I started probing the faiths of the world
to see what older wisdom might appear.
Though they have their flaws that one must wade through,
and their practitioner so very human,
they also retain time-tested ideas,
that have proved their use again and again.
I focused on the archaeologists,
combing over lost texts and old sites,
and at first it seemed I was stymied again,
until I got a phone call late one night…
CONTINUES IS PART II.
An Aria Beyond A Silent Dream
Just yesterday, I was dreaming some love I’ll never have
And now I’m sitting all alone, smoking… this night
Some soul within that never was mine, seems to have left
Like falling stars crying so, fading upon its dying light
It was just like a dream, a dream which began it all
A fantasy I so thought, a reality now fought
The enigmatic world of The Ancients is the world I saw
Some place where life is only to belong to the rot
I was petrified from the sights of the ungodly world
And I fear even more shall come eventually my sleep
Betrayal portrays the poison mind from the green of an emerald
And I wonder if strength can still be drawn from hearts of the weak
Its been a while since, had the befallen and the defier appear
I’m lost and very much alone atween a portal through stolen time
Though the bond of a steel may assure the undead minions to fear
Yet dependency is a weakness without the drop of faith close behind
Be it so if I should sleep in reality, I’m awaken otherwise within
And upon awakening elsewhere, it isn’t simply a hallucinatory fantasy
And as once more, I walk the path beyond ancient’s dream
I saw a world lost upon where I stand alone, in complete solitary
{With the reality world shut away, despairing never fails to end
The darken haze aloof the skies were evidence of time bearing no when
Bodies in impossible millions lay lifeless as far as the eye can see
With the essence of blood weighing upon the breath of air so free
From where I stood, the battle before seems wearily over and forgotten
With my sword at hand, I was left mortified with delusions of the tragic moment
How is it, a glitter of hope can present itself from this nightmarish hell?
Yet I knew, extraordinary from ordinary isn’t just some words to praytell
I scan the bloodshed more intensely, knowing not what I may assume to find?
And I’m not alone… as something else was heard from behind
There was a voice, voicing sadness and sorrow in solemn aria
Singing perhaps to the heavens, yearning so to be heard from afar
I trail towards the tune and saw a figure standing atop a shadowy stone
Cloaked in an armour that at once suggested swiftness, as well a necklace of bones
And seen in her hand… she held a crypted bow
Where strap over her shoulder, was as well a quiver of arrows
I am the bird that is in the cage
choosing to fly in the enormous sky
I am not a avaricious of liberation and exhale
Only deciding to display some absurdity
act the absurdity and live the absurdity
But, why my steps are barricaded by the boundaries
Only wishing to surface some absurdity
act the absurdity and live the absurdity
I am the teeny infant that is in the cot
Wishing to walk and cripple in this earth
I am not the avaricious of dependency and assistance
Only wishing to expand my limbs somehow
act the wandering and roaming
But why my each approaches are ceased by the anxieties
Only wishing to stretch my limbs somehow
do the wandering and roaming
I am a bud that is on the calyx
Wishing to bloom in this beautiful atmosphere
I am not the greedy of beauty and delight
only wishing to disperse my essence to all
Bliss others with my charm
But, why i am decayed by fog, frost and mist
Only wishing to disperse my fragrance to all
Bliss others with my charm
I am the girl child of my parent
Wishing to show courtesy and do my responsibility
i am not the greedy of praiseworthiness
only wishing to do my duty, i must
do what my heart says and my obligations
but why this social rituals and traditions are pushing my behind
Only wishing to do my duty and what i must
Do what my heart says
i am the citizen of this nation
Wishing to do some reformations and dynamism
I am not greedy of name, fame and popularity
Only wishing to do what an individual must
Do what i feel right and i don't care if others don't
But why this country is not acknowledging my tries and activities
Only because i am a girl not a boy of this patriarchal society
Or a victim of this already corrupted society that always drags me behind
i feel shame for this, even in this present century
our country is the slave of this belief
I am the freedom fighter, i do not say that
I am the reformer who brings changes, i do not say that
i am not the revolutionary person who brings revolution
I am only the simple girl who has big dream in her eyes
who has also the right to dream, the dream of happiness and success
i am the ordinary girl with some expectations
who has right to fulfill her desires
i am the girl who wishes to live and do her task in her own way
But why i am tossed among such conditions, why??
"The Spite Syllabub"
The daughter
is not
The mother
Sylvia’s bees were
left milk, bread and butter
Plath by name
but not
the daughter’s path
in evolving nature
not the mother
nor the father
Love for art’s sake
Art not for Love’s sake
Amy G. Dala
a spoonful of honey
taken with the medicine
This is Love
The tincture labelled:
The Spite Syllabub
three measures
the mother, the father, the son
take
swallow slowly
survive
daughter is the legacy
daughter learns to run
a lesson in love
Love for art’s sake
Art not for Love’s sake
Done.
(Ladylabyrinth / 2020)
"Moonlight" / FOALS
https://youtu.be/s9DMDulMIz4
1.
"The Grief Equation" /Frieda Hughes, Plath's daughter
https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-27377434?SThisFB&fbclid=IwAR0-rAuEMLovUMiMndUcme2Sic3A-OoDiJkHd857ulBwxlk4KXY3cAxHb9Q
2. "Poetry and Co-dependency" / Plath & Hughes
https://youtu.be/hmArLszft3w
3. "Sylvia Plath" (1 of 6)
https://youtu.be/V1QA985lhSQ
(2 of 6)
https://youtu.be/k1ecb6bRfk0
(3 of 6)
https://youtu.be/uDq0trKqyj8
(4 of 6) Bees
https://youtu.be/7lJPFA2JXnk
(5 of 6)
https://youtu.be/Ef5Zypngx6o
(6 of 6)
https://youtu.be/iK6b39hoeGM
4. Hughes & Assia Wevill (Mistress)
https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/1999/apr/23/features11.g21
5. Frieda Hughes (daughter)
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/may/28/frieda-hughes-i-felt-my-parents-were-stolen
"Frieda Hughes, daughter of poets Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, is the author of Stonepicker and the Book of Mirrors (Harper Collins, 2009), Forty-Five (Harper Collins, 2006), Waxworks (Harper Collins, 2002), and Wooroloo (Harper Flamingo, 1998). She lives in Wales."
Poetry, books / Frieda Hughes
https://www.friedahughes.com/books.html
"45" / Frieda Hughes
https://www.popmatters.com/forty-five-poems-by-frieda-hughes-2496154001.html
"Moonlight" / FOALS, Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Foals-moonlight-lyrics
Suicide Prevention / Global Hotlines
http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines
Intelligent musical talent begins with this, to relearn the timing within our soul,
But other tactical psychological methods are busy swaying to and fro,
To an obvious yet nefarious covert Rhythmic tyranny of Mind Control,
Damaging trauma appears, disappears and reappears so often - irregardless whether anyone of us - really and actually know,
Although - know; you ought to, and know you must, if we're to avoid their evil demonic end goal, by economic slavery boom and bust,
Why have the masses flocked to what is essentially an obvious Lie..
The hitherto well understood well known treachery of bribery and trickery..to the ill-informed common eye?
Real answers lie within the Agendas of those,
With high unseen well hidden authority of tyranny.. now beginning to be exposed,
The blame so far as we can see for this all pervasive idiocy,
Fits squarely into Ancient Babylonian Occult vile Crypto Supremacy,
An unmentionable taboo for Society, though cleverly socially arranged,
Covertly hostile toward Humanity and our creative force..
By a certain inferiority complexed minority so deranged..
Ah yes - but of course!
A true Dictatorship and Tyranny
can and always will insist..
Upon those that have become uber-Liberal all accepting pacifists..
Those yet behind an otherwise obvious - facade of devious fallacy, don't want you to learn the reasons for the lie,
The mondane so often belies what is hidden within our words; within a sound,
The truth disguised as anything unprofound,
Explanation enough as to the premise of why..
The countless masses are now clearly and sadly being systematically psychologically, reduced to a pitiful state of abhorrent dependency,
We would certainly have to mention and be sure to say,
Please wake up a friend a colleague or a family member now, or at least today,
It is therefore clear that;
an in-depth searching root cause analysis, apparently can be,
Brought about and shared through some insightful poetry..
The written and the spoken word,
Do justice to those that cannot nor would never ever be heard,
So we might then listen in careful piety,
Or do not then be surprised to now find, that there are..
So Many Seduced by Rhythmic Pendulum of Trauma & Absurd Normalcy..
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
28th February 2023
I am the environmentalist in love with wine,
my shoulders carry and reside in the cutting edge side of life,
the establishment craves to be the human race
while I stroll the memories of “Sailor fields”
amongst ancient Jurassic stone.
Is this! The only way for me?
My saline tears run freely now a days,
it’s time that governs one’s sentiment,
no doubt the plague of waiting relates to this.
What! Of the future,
hey , i want to forget about futuristic wars,
may be the media are in gross error of judgment?
I’m told I’m only a little man, at last now I know why I’m the
one that society chastises every day,
Why this mortal flame in constant combat becomes
life’s tomb stone around my neck.
To feel freedom, another swig so my lacklustre eyes again become stimulated
as the view overcomes my immobility and bids farewell, to the great lady
that glides portly on the outgoing tide.
Curse this elemental wind
that curls in from the east,
“Mother” i cry
“Is this the clarity of our beginning.” the start of all this crap,
as astringent thoughts flow through my urban bucolic mind,
seeing or feeling nothing of the moment, only a repeat of the actions of many insensitive men,
those that flourish, those that sentiment cannot stain those that walk tallest amongst men;
because they were hungry for appurtenance.
I remember well , in the far off lea of my mind,
down on the farm thousands of miles away across the Pacific,
where enamel clashed against concrete
there , where foolhardy dreams were dashed,.
when the heart pursued
the warm flesh , she that gave her
reflection to the swan song
of an innocence.
Alas should one be compelled to expire
as one would, a chardonnay basking in the hot sunshine?
Should one fall foul of a politically correct society
that , outside of one’s comfort zone,
because one feels , want , in choleric veins?
Even the sullen white cross, dotted upon the highways
become burning embers, a constant reminiscence,
an emotional monument to many inhibited memories.
Yet I beg this deportment shows me a realization,
that death is imminent,
so why this perpetual waiting, this constant urge,
for this vein dependency to be infringed upon ???
© Harry J Horsman 2012
In the twilight of a restless world, where minds are chained to glowing screens,
The machine-like hum of existence drowns the whispers of the soul,
People move like automatons, their essence eroded by the electronic tide,
A slow degradation of well-being, a quiet erosion of dignity, intolerable in the end.
In this programmed environment, where the air grows thick with indolence,
Eyes, once bright with wonder, now reflect only the cold, indifferent light,
Hearts, once fierce with passion, now beat slow and hollow,
Minds, once sharp and curious, now dulled by the narcotic glow of the screen.
The political tapestry unravels, threads of self-governance fray,
For in this digital haze, people cease to govern themselves,
They demand to be managed, to be told, to be led,
The spark of autonomy dims, replaced by the flicker of dependency.
Yet, even within this mechanized labyrinth, a glimmer of recognition remains,
Humans possess the profound ability to see themselves, to carve out sanctuaries of thought,
In the cool, verdant garden of personal growth, away from the machine's relentless grip,
We cultivate sweet fruit, a testament to our resilience, sufficient for our sustenance.
In this garden, the soul finds solace, the mind finds clarity,
Every thought a blossom, every idea a ripe fruit,
We nurture our essence, we reclaim our dignity,
And in this quiet haven, we gather enough fruit to share with others.
The machine hums outside, but here, in this sacred space,
We breathe deeply, we think freely, we exist fully,
For in the act of personal cultivation, we defy the mechanical mandate,
We reclaim our humanity, we restore our spirit.
So let the world outside buzz with its electronic cadence,
Within our garden, we find the rhythm of life,
A rhythm that nourishes, that sustains, that connects,
A rhythm that reminds us of who we are, beyond the machine's cold embrace.
In the twilight of a restless world, we find our sanctuary,
A place where the soul can breathe, where the mind can wander,
Where the heart can beat strong and true,
In this garden of personal growth, we find our magic, our melancholy,
And in the sharing of our sweet fruit, we find our purpose, our connection, our humanity.
How much
can one give before they crumble under the
weight of what could have been and never will be?
How many times
can one tear themselves into tiny, bloody pieces, rip out their soul,
mutilate
themselves until nothing remains but a hopeless shell of a person? And
when one wants to claw out their own eyes because of that
burning itch under their skin and
tear out their own fingernails because they
can’t seem to clean the dirt out,
how long before their restraints snap?
How long before they fall apart?
You took my sanity, my freedom, my life.
I thought I was done but you just kept
taking
I used to want to kill you
in the most brutal way I could.
I would turn you inside out,
or feed you to the very snakes you so adore.
But I learned to love you, and you turned my hatred into
worship
I gave you everything I had to give and you tore it to shreds.
I was a guard dog fed on the scraps of your sick dreams,
who would kill for any morsel of
rotting food just to
survive
You made me care even though
I knew you never would.
All I ever wanted was to
survive
You were undefeatable, unkillable-my best chance at life.
Instead you left me
lifeless
I wasn’t a person,
I was a tool that you used until broken and beyond repair.
I’m a scrap of metal, a disfigured wrench, sitting stagnant in a dusty drawer.
I’m a broken quill screaming ‘Use me!’
to no ears,
for I have no mouth, no teeth, and no tongue.
You made sure I would be nothing without you;
like a dog, I would die without your scraps.
My love, this dependency you created,
it destroyed me.
You were defeated,
and I died in all ways but body.
You kept me locked in your little chest of stolen things,
that you kept hidden in your rotting heart.
Long ago did you take me, long ago did I stop trying to escape. I became the husk that I am now the moment I began loving you.
Nothing changed when you died but the possibility of ever finding the key to
let myself out.
I fear you’ve swallowed it.
There's little left in me, I'm a living corpse,
I smell of rot and stolen dreams.
What makes a human? Life, morality, emotion, or
regret?
My love, I’m afraid you’ve made a monster.