Long Disillusionment Poems
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Breathe: inhale the sky, the song, the peace
Feel the rush of light, the sensations of grace
Breathe: exhale the smile, the chuckle, the laugh
Touch the brilliance echoing hope through the heart
Breathe: in and out, sucking in the inspiration
Radiating joy, awakening the spirit’s dance, burning
With flames of passion, praising, praying
Illuminating the faith, the amazing belief in a moment
When there is only the breathless spray of the sea
Silencing every dark shadow with a gasp of color
Breathe: panting like the sweaty moments
Just before the rain, thunder roaring, booming
Rumbling through the thoughts, resonating
Every heart’s beat, each pounding whisper
From the beginning to the ending – victorious
Like the rainbow that comes to life after the storm
Breathe: whispering, sighing, soothing away
Every horror, each undertone of suffering, mouthed
By words of dread, doubt, disillusionment
Uttered by the news of enemies, adversaries
Those who bring gloom, melancholy, depression
Feelings that linger in the air like a heavy perfume
Breathe: sing with each precious lungful of air
Let the music of winds, stardust moments, hushed
Fragrances that blend the light with the night
Flavoring the moments in peace, serenity gentling
Each illusion, each mystery, all the confusion
That comes to those who refuse to …
Even B R E A T H E
I’ve known a few who were addicted
To alcohol, drugs and eating
I’ve seen their struggle and known their pain
Witnessed their yearning for a better way
I’ve felt them fighting with all their heart
To find the answers to the problems
That keep them abusing themselves
I’ve known many who are hooked
On nicotine, caffeine or gambling
While many others are left praying to heaven
For the answers to bring them out of this
Dark, dismal place where they’re haunted by sin
I’ve known the lonely darkness that sings
Melodies of sadness, sorrow and disillusionment
Mixed with dread, grief and shadows of loss
Colored in hues of ebony and steely gray weeping
With wishes for a chance to finally say truthfully
“I’ve kicked the addiction… I’m free to be me”
Only God knows the answers that will come
When they put down the bottle, the smoke or the rum
And listen to the spirit of God’s one and only Son
Who reveals a peace inside that only He can gather
A serenity that is wise, bold and filled with answers
To the many questions that plague the heart who knows
Love abides inside the soul who reflects the Son
One after Another
They came for your head.
Aching, filled with dread.
Without hesitation, terror;
Breed, anticipation.
Their eyes were burning.
Cloaked in disobedience.
In a source ritual.
I can’t explain the sorts.
Burden with disillusionment.
Drunk in confusion.
Tipping and double-dipping,
In nightmares.
Whose reality has come chasing?
For what they didn’t ask for.
Now that the past is knocking
On your back door.
Wild and braggadocious.
From coast to coast, always raising hell.
They want to leave you alone.
Their agenda is well-organized and
They boast about not being in disguise.
And flaunt their deep depravity.
Pretending to be somebody they're not.
I was not living in the world of expectation,
the expectation so great as to frustrate by word disillusionment.
I am not that young or naïve
to be affected by a word disillusionment;
then, why does the word disillusionment
suddenly barge in my way and harass me in this belated time?
I think
may it be the weight of sadness
getting heavier as age advances.
The greater reason than sadness,
however, is not able to bear its weight
but diminishing strength in direct proportion
with growing age to weight of sadness;
nonetheless,
if the course of water is the same as before
there shouldn’t be much difference between disillusionment
and sadness because if you place these two words on the flowing water
and let them go, who knows, in some day, they may reach a great water
named oblivion.
Our Savior kneels down and gazes upon the darkest acts of our lives. But rather than recoil in horror, he reaches out in kindness and says, "I can clean that if you want." And from the basin of his grace, he scoops a palm full of mercy and washes our sin. ~ Max Lucado
I’ve done things I regret
Committed sins I can’t take back
Given up on dreams that I cherished
Lost my hopes amid failures
Felt the pangs of doubt
That come with heartbreak
And disillusionment
Grief that fills one up
With a damaged
Breath
I’ve done things I feel guilty for
More remorse than I care to admit
Repentance doesn’t always come
Easily or within the grasp
Of a heart who listens
To the One who creates
Our hearts and souls
The parts of us who know
Mourning, shame and lamenting
Feelings of contrition
Will I ever be
Forgiven?
I’ve done things I can’t possibly admit
Were deeds that left me feeling
Anything except pure humiliation
For the feats that brought me
More hesitation
That readiness
Inclination
Toward
Love
I’ve done things I surely wish
I had never done, never experienced
Deeds that left me feeling mortified
That I had done them
They gave me a feeling
Of pure dishonor
Degradation, indignation
And I wish I could simply
Take them back
Never to be
Faced
I’ve done some things that I know
This God I love – He’s forgiven me for
With a mercy that leaves me
Feeling so free and sure
That love like this
Is love worthy
Of all my faith
In His amazing grace
All my love
Worship and praise
Given to this Lord
Who saves me
From suffering
From torment
From misery
I’m so thankful to God
Who knows me
Better than I know myself
And still loves me
With a everlasting love
Love that is strong
Always right – never wrong
Love that lives inside
Because it’s there that He resides!
Oh skies let me touch you
Give me an assurance that tomorrow
Shall be a sunny day;
Give me a little sign
That after all this disillusionment
I shall live in your umbrella
Oh skies smile at me
Do not you sulk at me;
My soul is cold, my heart is hurt-
A smile and I shall get warm
A smile and I shall feel wonderful,
Oh skies.
Oh skies give me a hope to live on
So when the world
Shall break under my feet
I shall call you to my rescue
I shall call you to my help
Oh skies give me the hope to live on.
Oh skies keep me in your watch
So whenever I do stray
To limits forbidden by natural law
Oh skies let me be yours,
My soul, my heart, all I give you.
“Fear whispers worry into your ear, anxiety into your hopes and doubt into your faith… Love whispers hope and peace” – by poet
With a brain washed pale
By voices thundering
Silent screams echoing through me
Clearing away the debris
Of disappointment and disillusionment
My mind darkened on a clear night
No stars twinkled through my thoughts
And the blaze of my heart
Was smothered beneath the darkness
That was like a consuming fire
Shooting flames through my mind
Resonating fear and doubt
Clouding my soul with black suspicion
Breaking away all the hope and faith
Pouring disgust through my veins
Marking the way for desolation
Despair and waves of guilt
That sauntered across my emotions
Coloring me in hues of gray
Bipolar disorder screamed
Beneath a mask of whispers
And I cried – tears of desperation
Tears that flowed out of me
Relentless, unceasingly
And I prayed for peace
That only God could bring to me
Philippians 4:7 (King James Version) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
March 23, 2021
A cruel effect of growing age,
that sometimes makes me seethe in rage,
that makes the world itself feel wrong,
is the fact that the magic is gone.
I can recall when I was young,
so many songs were to be sung,
the world was all mine to explore,
and all its parts seemed so much more.
Each forest was a new frontier
into which I could disappear,
each new town was a mystery,
and would figure it out? Me!
Each vacation an adventure,
where I’d do something great, for sure.
Each deer that I say from the road
had noble bearing I should know.
Every old veteran that I met
held great wisdom I didn’t know yet.
But all the forests have been tracked,
from vacations we all come back,
the towns are often much the same,
and old men can be quite a pain…
Until the mask was pulled away,
and the mystery held no sway,
the magic pull of innocence
crumble before experience.
The forest is still nice to hike,
and smallish towns I still do like,
but mostly because they bring peace,
a break from work, a small relief.
The vacations still are fun,
but I know that it has all been done,
no great meaning awaiting us…
To this day I still felt that loss,
That missing sense, like a lost limb,
a phantom out there in the dim.
You’re too young to appreciate
the way things feel when you are eight,
and it’s still hard to think upon
living life with the magic gone.
everything’s complicated
everything’s a struggle
have you noticed?
it’s a psychological horror
is this the ‘adult disillusionment’ I keep hearing about?
I mean, things work, if you sit on them like an egg—
If your mother things along and helicopter a result.
I mean, what do people do who don't have my resources and sunny disposition?
I get America’s increasing paranoia but I think that it's ass backwards. Even if someone's were out to ‘get’ you, no one actually cares about doing their job anymore. There's just so little competence around, that the dysfunction feels intentional. And because you need something and you’re helpless, you can't help but feel targeted.
But I think I figured it out, so let me elucidate—they aren't giving YOU bad service, it isn't personal—everyone is getting bad service, two pieces of chicken when you ordered three, five day delivery when you’re clearly paying for two, failure’s become routine—endemic.
My go-to phrase has become, “What’ll it cost?” (the answer, usually: twice as much) “Make it so,” I say, swiping something with my Apple Watch, and suddenly, everything works!
.
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A song for this:
decide to be happy by MisterWives
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My ex-navy stepfather always says, “Make it so,” it’s an old navy phrase that means, ‘proceed’
At the dusk of life,
All promises of dawn fade.
The hopes of noon arrive dead—
Petals wilt, beauty flees, and regret dances.
Time feigns vivacity within the day,
Yet grows listless before twilight unveils.
Its carcass leaves behind bitter regrets—
Like emptiness gripped in bare hands.
If you still feel time’s galloping pulse,
Run with blistering speed, lest it leave you behind;
For time deceives, wears down all strength,
And barters vigour for disillusionment.
Build your fort—adorn it with success;
For mockers wait to scorn your fall.
Only steadfast endurance sustains your stride,
And smooths life’s rough gallops on your way.