Long Dismount Poems
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Two faithful souls stand listless in the great big tower
overlooking the stranded city that once stood tall
yearning for a quiet place to lay their heads
while far beyond the deserted land
a soft blue light gleams gracefully above tranquil skies,
dancing shadows rocking to midnight tunes,
and sweet melodies echoing from the gigantic moon.
She spans more than a thousand feet long soaking
up the exhausted earth, her immeasurable depths
cuts and carve through valleys and streams
with clear blue water and powdery white sand
what more could you ask for on that distant land.
They have been planning this trip for many years,
but when the time draws near their saving disappears.
An empty refrigerator with two trays of frozen ice
lean against the corner of the kitchen
in their ten bedroom mansion
and a bare pantry exposing a slice of mildew bread
filled with little mice nibbling and playing tug of war.
Not many people knew their story
they have been broke for twenty years
but lived a painful lie, cutting corners
making back door transaction,
eating lamb and turkey from profits
made from sordid deals.
Their empire that once stood tall hangs in dismay
While it watches the world going up in flame
by those who continue to play treacherous games.
Sobibor and Hiroshima horrors of the past
Should have cleared the way for a more sophisticated path
But now athoroughfare mixed with complexity
packed with insidiousness
have ducks walking around
quacking without wings or tails
They finally got an offer to go to Utopia.
with packed bags not a penny in their name,
they set off for Utopia hoping to find a new life again
but when they got their it was the same old begrimed game.
Their entire world has been shaken,
shaken by its own guilt and self-reproach,
the transgression that their ancestors have borne
have been handed down for generations to shoulder
A land that they believe was pure and holy
has turned into nightmare and horror
dreadful things dismount in dark corners
women raped strangers abused
yet religion forms the core of the throne
They have witnessed empires toppled,
Kingdoms have fallen in their sight
Rulers have shaken and wept bitterly
causing the great big god to balance the scale
but blackmail in Utopia remains a formidable game
©2013 Christine Phillips
They had measured on close counts,
Before they began his dismount,
All flowers and scents were left behind,
It was only mud that came to mind,
He was a log of wood that had no use,
They were about to consign him as refuse,
They had measured on close counts,
And now had finished his dismount,
They all glumly looked at the innards of earth,
Dug apart so as to be his home and hearth,
They lowered him with care,
Some cried and other shed tears,
Such care they had never shown,
When he was alive full blown,
They left him but he could not,
In years that followed he thought,
And all thoughts were about and their's,
But he lay still there,
Not able to do much,
While lower insects ate him as such,
Twenty yards under the surface,
The earth weighed on him like a mace,
He had volumes to carry,
Every moment without delay or tarry,
In peace he had the quiet,
Under the forceful mud of his burial site,
He was largely unattended,
Only heard anniversary footsteps,
When his thought subject came tending,
There was lot of din,
As one day woke abruptly in,
He could hear the rattling and banging of hammer,
His peace was disturbed and began to stammer,
It was furious and fast,
He presumed it could not be just his nest,
But also his neighbors from first to last,
It was familiar yes very much so,
All the sound and racket on the go,
It was regular and incessant,
As if it was rain rampant,
Yes, clouds up there from above,
Were pouring over his grave,
They sounded angry and irate,
And were determined to drown all gates,
He felt secure under mud,
And there suddenly was a seeping thud,
It was really bad and water had come in tones,
His grave was all definitely drowned,
Now the water had bossed over the earth,
Pressing it hard for the inner most berth,
It was invading the twenty yards,
And approaching him fast,
And he thought will the dead also meet the flood,
The seeping thud was on the first drop,
That fell on his stomach,
He churned as eating insects scurried,
Soon train followed thud after thud,
And then it was a volley of scuds,
His cavity was being filled,
And bones getting viscid and humid,
A coolness spread through rotten carrion,
And went on to turn into a bath for the skeleton,
It bathed him till it was just soaking,
Was it he who had ascended to heaven,
Or the heavens came pouring down to meet him even.
You're walking out the front entrance
Leaving work behind you
Forgetting the hustle of the day
Looking forward to a quite drink
Chilling out
In your
Soft
Comfy
Favourite
Chair
Staring into an open fire
Being carried away with the beat of the music
When all of a sudden
You're startled
By the thundering crackling
Sound from the exhaust
Of a oversized shinny motor bike
A leather cladded rider dismounts
Blocking your path
As you stand stunned & glued to the spot
The rider comes up to your face
Through a tinted visor on a black helmet
You hear a soft gentle familiar voice saying
Put this on and let's go
All your fears flash in front of you
But your censors say your safe
You allow this gentle giant
To carefully place the open face helmet over your head
Slowly secure it under your chin
Hands you some wrap around sun glasses
Without a word
The rider shows you how to
Comfortably mount a bike
Indicates you to wait until he is on
Gives you the nod
As you mount the bike
Cuddle into the rider
looking over his right shoulder
Smelling & feeling the leather on your bare skin
As you clasp your hands together
Around the stomach of the rider
The bike starts
Startled by the noise you jump
And thrusted back as we take off
Slowly through the main street
Slow down even more for the school zone
Swerving
Swaying
Dodging
In and out
Of the afternoon traffic
Leaving the bottle neck behind
With the confusion and worry
Hitting the open road
Winding the throttle wide open
The purring of the pipes
Echoing off on coming cars
The thumping of the motor
Rising up through the seat
The wind caressing your face
As we brake hard and throw
The bike down into a left hand lean
Around the corner in one motion
Pick the bike up and throw down
Into a right hand corner
Dancing
Up
Down
And around
Up the hill onto the flat
Surrounded trees
The afternoon sun strobing through the trees
Behind the trees
In the paddocks
Prancing
Dancing
Meres and foals
Back into town
Where I stop at your place
I dismount
Extend my hand to help you off
Lovingly remove your helmet
Tie it on the sissy bar
Jump on the bike
With a crack from the pipes
The engine roars
Burning the tar with my back tyre
Leaving you standing in the cutter
Dumbfounded
Bewildered
Tingling
Laughing and smiling
Nestled is the slender twisting trail canyon between timeless steep
aspiring mountains and meditative sopheric sea waters
The frail road deepens into lofty thickness further from the harsh
volcanic valley where passion’s throes are ever in abeyance as days grind
on at a petty pace, as winding cathartic minds strive to be free and leave their
fears of mortal sin, intrusive family— religious dogma dismissive, oppressive
My yearning heart writhes in agonizing prose knowing senses magma
guilt etched into my very core, now behind
I’ll unwind, in a soft bed of sand that awaits
Spring’s strong winds of life call, visible the sea in the
distance, in instance, heads tilt, abut, falling upon my
wooer’s shoulder, he presses gears, downshifts reaching tireless
slate-gray force spreading over ocean floors flooding with no remorse
An uncommon gallantry he displayed, a warrior’s valiant looks
fired up my very essence
A dimming sun immerses into a hesitant horizon, sweeping breezes spin
warm spells embracing an enchanter’s realm,
with its charm he gazed into languid eyes
Silhouettes stark, foreheads bow, touch, sweetened sweat from
jasmine bushes alongside the road, perks of riding the stallion of steel
evoked smiles in sideview mirror, heated rims, spokes spun
Dismount a stroll, toes sank in sand, holding hands dodging driftwood
washed ashore, I chose a serpent shaped, a souvenir!
I’d glue turquoise stone eyes, a keepsake, or an omen?
Zena’s cove of guilty pleasures seal fates, certainly
not rhythmic lapping waves against the shore nor salmon sunset
or a waxing crescent moon, and not the wistful ocean’s teary spray
Its tears wetted my cheeks in afterglows
Lest moonlit sky amongst shy hidden stars
Pangs subside, panic betides, doctrine ridden not from our marrow
Womb’s flower in bloom, a secret kept, an advent arrival
The planets wept, forms beyond birth of celestial bodies,
one existence yet does sin exist in celestial angels?
He held tightly, softly whispered let’s run away,
his proposal on adulthood’s precarious cusp,
bestowed him a refusal, sweet youth ruins
Alas and alack life proceeds
steady as ebb and flow of the tides
After a precious gem she’s named, sweet lord
never more blissful, daughter
Caressed are tranquil ocean waves
I still see it when I close my eyes,
hands stoking up and down my naked thighs,
I can’t shake the lingering memory
of the night that someone violated me.
No shower seems able to make me clean,
I find myself often being cross and mean,
even when I fantasize in my mind,
it inevitably mutates into that time…
It started out as a party, tap a keg,
drinks with friends gave me two shaky legs,
so I retreated back to a side bedroom,
passed out quickly amidst darkened gloom.
Next thing I remembered was feeling good,
then a pressing weight, as if someone stood
upon my hips, something warm and strong,
my drunken mind knew something was wrong.
Struggle forced open my bleary eyes,
saw a strange woman having herself a ride,
to drunk to even find my words to speak,
at least not before she brought me to release…
All that I managed was a gurgling sound,
she had her fill, then did dismount,
I tried vainly then to call her deed out,
but the liquor soon dragged me back down.
The next day, hungover, I did tell a friend,
he said,”At least one of us got lucky, man!”
When I complained he just looker rather vexed,
“Man, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the sex!”
Fighting the urge to knock out his teeth,
I sobered up and went down to the police,
they rolled their eyes as I told the tail,
said reporting the crime was to no avail.
Said,”If you can’t ID her, what can we do?
And I don’t think the D.A. will take on you.
He’s all about taking up women’s cause,
might say that you have no cause under law.”
I said,”So if I had come in here a girl,
this guy would not stop, he’d move the world,
but since it’s a man here reporting this,
I should not expect to get any justice?”
Desperate, I turned, to an old college friend,
a social working, she would understand.
Instead she scoffed, and shook her head,
said,”It’s not rape when she takes you to bed.”
It didn’t matter that I gave no consent,
“There’s just some things women can’t do to men.”
She did not care for my anguish or hurt,
said,”I’m sorry, but that’s not the way it works.”
You could say that all this left me disturbed,
can’t thank about sex without feeling anger,
all of those dark days, they taught me to hate
a world that cares not when a man gets raped.
Is it ‘friendship’ you proffer (to strangers who ask)
If you’re ‘sap for sad stories,’ deny other’s truth,
If you’ve something to barter, a ‘twit’ for ‘****’ thought, (1)
Good advice you call ‘currency,’ aids in some plot
In which you stand to prosper, a carnival booth
Where a kiss costs a dollar (though courage needs flask?) (2)
Does your friendship have ‘value’ that isn’t a gift?
Might a balance sheet’s ledger suggest the dream’s lost
Of a meaningful friendship, all effort’s in vain?
Was the fault first on their side, did you cause the pain?
Expectations burn friendships; hope withers with frost,
CO2 kills man’s dreams (yes, earth’s continents drift!) (3)
Can you ‘benefit’ others and not be their friend?
Might the fool you forgive with Christ’s love, save your soul?
You are nobody’s friend when you call ‘facts’ fake news, (4)
When the truths you would dictate are just your foul views.
A friend welcomes dissent if persuasion’s its goal
When your vote screws another, you vote the world’s end!
It is not my world view that your vote should not count,
I would not be your King, much less have you be mine!
But I’ll not be coerced; Your ‘truth’ carries more weight?
Are you’re sure that it’s right? You find honor in hate
As you threaten my life? Disabuse me, that’s fine!
Is a friend whore, your slave? Want to live? Sir, dismount! (5)
Brian Johnston
9th of December in 2019
Poet’s Notes:
(1) A reimagining of the older phrase ‘tit for tat’ (a ‘quid pro quo’
if you are a Trump worshiper!), i.e., “I’ll be an idiot for sex!”
(2) It is hard for even a pervert to kiss a pig! But alcohol helps!
(3) It seems that all science looks suspicious and magical,
to the uninformed!
(4) Trump Quote on ‘Fake News!”: “You know why I do it? I do it
to discredit you all and demean you all so that when you write
negative stories about me, no one will believe you.” Spoken off-
camera during a 60 Minute interview with Lesley Stahl! I believe
Lesley Stahl to be a woman of unswerving integrity. Can any
Republican say that (with a straight face) about Donald Trump?
(5) Please do not rape others just because you are in a position
that you dream enables you to do so with impunity!
SNIPER
A yell “ man down;” then zing, pock, pock,
pock, pock against the sandbag revetment.
Down on the plain is a man in a spider hole,
he is well hidden and armed well enough,
smokeless powder provides no clues.
Binoculars and spotter scopes range and scan.
The wounded soldier moves arms weakly,
asking for help, hands exploring a bloody chest;
each attempt to get to him more whizzes and
pocks follow the movement of desperate men.
Zings and pock, pock, pock of sand bags hit,
in the distance a light echo of a rifle report,
a light pop reverberating from every where.
81-mm mortars inside the defensive perimeter
fire volleys of patterns mushrooming dust,
some air bursts for downward shrapnel,
these metal fragments might penetrate shelter.
The dust cloud shields medics and helpers
dragging this first victim to relative safety;
the dust-off flight already hurrying inbound.
Soon APCs roar by, their armour impervious,
tracks clanking the treads tearing ground;
carrier troops dismount and walk searching
investigating odd bits of clumps and weeds.
Nothings found he is too well hidden,
how did he ever dig in under watchful eyes,
how did he hide the signs of digging.
Now everyone moves about with this new worry
each movement cautious with little exposure;
careless soldiers leave trails of pocked sand bags,
one fellow gets ripped along his flack jacket,
too close a strike earning an unwanted souvenir.
Mortars continue to pound patterns on open ground,
this all to find a veritable chaffing grain of sand,
a grain that throws an inconvenient hail of bullets.
Our snipers and spotters set their own lairs;
hunting scopes by day starlight scopes at night.
The days are long as this deadly duel continues,
nerves are sensitised, some are shattered;
each move brings a buzz or whiz of near death.
Then there are no more shots, no more shooter,
perhaps the mortars got him or the gun ships,
perhaps he earned the NVA version of R & R.
Still every one walks, heads hunched, hair on end,
one sniper with a few dozen well place bullets
keeps one company sized position neutralised;
a good example showing us the fine art of war.
hanging in the air
humidity’s heaviness . . .
the river’s slow crawl
On the Mississippi lies the beautiful little city where I once lived. How many times I trudged up inclined streets; or leaning forward, red-faced and panting, pressed up slopes with all my might, feet on pedals of my purple Sting-ray bike, urging myself not to dismount prior to reaching glorious level ground! The damp beneath my clothing in those days was a given. Simply stopped to rest. . . sipping pop underneath a tree, I would often feel rivulets of sweat that trickled down beneath my underarms, a surfeit which caused circle stains to appear beneath the arms of short-sleeved shirts or on Sundays, beneath the flowered dresses that I wore to church. However, despite the heat’s discomfort, it was summer, after all!
counting down the days
until the school bell’s last ring -
a fling with summer
Released from stifling classrooms for vacation, I eagerly embraced the sun. . .and how I played! Kickball with the neighbors, visits to the city pool with my sisters and friends, bike rides to parks or into town, where I spent my allowance on records and treats, and hours racing eagerly through the pages of Nancy Drew books in front of a cooling fan - all these things consumed me.
It was in the month of August, and more than a decade of muggy summers later that I found myself transplanted in a desert. As if thrust into a giant pre-set oven with a noose about my neck, I learned firsthand the meaning of “slow roast.” Here, in the new and different place where I've now lived most of my adult life, the heat can leave one with a burn like acid watered down, a deep sensation lingering in skin long after sun has left the sky. Perspiration may just evaporate before it has a chance to wend its way along the body’s contours. Discomfort notwithstanding, there’s no pain. Acclimated to these summers now, I find that it is easier for me to breathe in August heat than it was the first time I’d ever encountered it. Released from stifling work, I go outside into the oven, pen in suntanned hand!
sunshine reflections
so many summers have passed
writing till twilight
(Poem Serial) Legend Of The Black Dove -2
"The Golden Coach"
As the water rises inside the Black Dove's coffin, he comes around and
Smashes the timber apart with his bare fists, his aquired powers saved
His life again. Realising he seems to have unlimited abilities, as
His jacket is totally drenched with water, he quickly climbs out of the
Well and tries to find his horse Warrior. Noticing him grazing in the
Paddock, he quickly mounts the horse and rides off like the wind. He heads
For Dover where his friend Rex Murphy is staying. Murphy is one of
The King's guards who is loyal to the Norrington Family, the Dove now
Changes back into, John Norrington. He finds out that the Golden Coach
Will be taking a shipment of gold bullion to the royal mint in Cornwall.
He realises he will have to follow the Golden Coach at a distance to keep
From being spotted by the military escort. The coach leaves on schedule
As the three guards accompany the coach, Rex is driving the coach along
The infamous Dover road. He is unaware the Black Dove is following a
Distance behind. some distance away Jack Wild's outlaw gang laying in wait
Amongst rocks ready to ambush the guards and steal the gold.
Jack Wild gives his men the order to shoot. The guards dismount, one
Of them is shot dead while the other two are badly hurt. Jack Wild asked the
Driver to step down off the coach. Murphy is outnumbered, so he follows
The outlaw's instructions. He is about to be shot when the Dove is sighted
By the outlaws. Rex runs and takes cover behind a rock, while the Dove
Chases the outlaws. Gunshots ring out. As the horses harnessed to the coach
Bolt off pulling the coach without a driver. The dove takes down three
Of the outlaws. As they slowly overpower him the runaway horses are
Getting closer to the men. The Black Dove is thrown under the hooves of the
Oncoming horses, so has no chance of escape as the coach is about to
Run over him.... Will Jack Wild finally take possession of the gold shipment,
Can anybody stop this outlaw gang? Find out in the next story...."Outlaw Peril"
January 28 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Exodus 32-34
Key Verse– Exodus 32:29 For Moses had said, Consecrate yourselves to day to the LORD, even every man upon his son, and upon his brother; that he may bestow upon you a blessing this day.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY CONSECRATION POWER
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always going before me constantly
Thank You for pardoning me whenever I repent of my sins humbly
Forgive my evil thoughts of which I am ashamed guiltily
Please bring me to Your perfect will daily.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always leading me toward Your worship mount
Thank You for inviting me to be on Your side, and never dismount
Forgive my vanities of worthless amount
Please guard from enemies only You can surmount.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always carrying me to Your bestowed blessing
Thank You for warning me about plagues of rebelling and cursing
Forgive my disobedience that needs Your cleansing
Please accept me for my faith that desires to be well-pleasing.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always keeping me in Your protection
Thank You for stripping me of my pride and selfish ambition
Forgive my attitude showing non-submission
Please guide me toward land flowing with milk and honey provision.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always ushering me to Your tabernacle
Thank You for revealing to me Your mercy of glorious spectacle
Forgive my folly when earthly wisdom is all I want to tackle
Please help me find grace in Your sight to experience every miracle.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always upholding me upon Your authority
Thank You for enclosing me within Your assured security
Forgive my transgression and iniquity
Please preserve me in Your truth’s integrity.
Lord God, You are my consecration Power…
Always shining on me Your glorious light
Thank You for speaking to me about Your love’s delight
Forgive my hypocrisy of disgusting blight
Please talk to me along prayer and Bible reading for divine insight.
January 28, 2023