Long Elemental Poems
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Some may see it as simple fancy,
Yet my view is more complex.
Where its force is multi-dimensional,
Reaching well beyond basic sex.
It's very nature is purely elemental,
Just like electro-magnetic and nuclear as well.
Such that gravity follows along with purpose,
Giving weight to power every cell.
While a few may cling to its chemistry,
Thinking that's all it takes to combine.
Others will dwell on its electricity
Believing a spark is all that's needed,
or some wine.
As much as we try to define the character,
When looking at spatial locations that exist.
We might see length, width, and height involved,
With intensity, duration, & elevation to insist.
Whether eternal or infinite in its ultimate pursuit,
It matters to all that contain a beating heart.
Because without it resides a lonely, dark space,
Where nobody wants to be to depart.
The scent of water makes him travel in the desert fast
In the last lap of his destination to the oasis
For his growing thirst is making him aghast
The scent of water makes him travel in the desert fast
Sight of greens beyond dunes pulling him up to the last
For water is life renewed on an elemental basis
The scent of water makes him travel in the desert fast
In the last lap of his destination to the oasis.
At the oasis, he would drink water to his fulfillment
And rested, would breathe in the scent of water
For he needs to travel miles in life desert per His indictment
At the oasis, he would drink water to his fulfillment
Anticipating to meet fellow travelers, can’t hide excitement
For sharing pains ‘n joys is renewing on his platter
At the oasis, he would drink water to his fulfillment
And rested, would breathe in the scent of water.
Date: 9.7.2014
Elemental formulations of healing for the soul
Consequential co-ordinations as we resist growing old
Monumental calculations from a mind in the scientific cold
Fundamental indignation from a heritage that has been cheaply sold
Inspiration from an underground rebellion against corruption
Congregations gathering peacefully while they plan the next outrageous eruption
Elevations of encouragement reserved for the next humble induction
Consternations of conscience as they deliberate the latest disruption
Elated Birthrights of grace that alleviate the suffering of man
Conflated sights of misplaced rights that insight the oppressed to take a stand
Berated knights of armies that fight for the underprivileged lands
Outdated insights from the furtherest from right that cannot reach out to take their neighbours hand
Sorrow amidst the grieving leaves of the oldest oak lined tree
Tomorrow rids the meaning of the boldest manoeuvre to be free
Borrow a reference from those streaming the coldest point of view even though they cannot see
Chateaux of Buddhist Mist resists those seeming as though they understand what it means to just “be”
Retrospective Franz Kafka, Kubrick and Van Gogh are turning in their respective artistic graves
Genuflective baroque bursts out in the streets and illuminates the belligerent and brave
My perspective resists the twists in the narrative that perpetuate the misrepresentation of knowledge in this dying age
Defective subjectives invoke word detectives as contradictions alleviate words from a sage
Retreating from gender and bigotry , racism, discrimination and persecution
Completing a consulate meeting while avoiding contamination of your verbal elocution
Deleting the render of fascism, recrimination and avoiding electrocution
Competing the bender of catachlysm while intimidation forces an absolution
Give peace a chance while you look at him askance and allow a new world to now form
Live through this strange dance while the privilege prance and the poor remain utterly forlorn
Forgive the wanton violent stance of those who are existing war torn
Outlive the demise of the good in disguise as a baby cries after being born
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
One of our only protectors
The sun burns their skins
With the reminder of their sins
The sun kisses our skin
Gifting it with affection
The wind echoes with our ancestors stories
A silent act of justice
A way to honour black history
To haunt the guilty
The wind lifts our heads up
To remind us
That they can't break us
And that it will always avenge us
The fire ignites us
To empower us
To speak up
It gives us our voice to show them we won't shut up
They can't stop us
Our fire burns through their hatred of blackness
But for us
It gives us our confidence
The ocean our biggest protectors
Freed us
From a lifetime of punishment
It saved us
And buried us
Then made sure our pain wasn't forgotten
It gave us our salvation
A different form of justice
The soil has tasted our blood
Carried our burdens
And held our broken bodies
It has drowned in our tears
And cried to our prayers
Her hair was luminous in the dawn,
Waving in a breeze it seemed to orchestrate.
And the day surrounded her magnetically
As she stood there, entwined with nature-
Nature herself, posed in elemental frame.
And her gown flowed from the ground,
As if tailored by the very grace of God.
And she, in turn, seemed molded likewise,
Formed, in no way lacking-
By sublimity, beguiling to the stolen eye.
“Come with me”, I spoke as if to her,
“And we can together magnify
What perceived, as one, we each
Fall short of understanding in whole”-
Compelled I was, in full rapture.
And then she moved toward me,
Interrupting a moment’s pause for eternity,
As needing to turn such lovely gaze
In direction not posed, but drawn by epiphany-
Stepping out from painting into my world.
Her newfound touch electrified my dreams.
Her smile was a beacon in the haze.
And nature’s green was in her eyes,
Those portals to grand portraiture-
Evolved I was, no looking back.
I paused to contemplate a dream
And found quintessence in my sight.
A vision shaped by artist’s brush
Reached out to take my heart in hand-
Forever taught, am I, the view of life as art.
Hidden in the recesses of the shipwrecked tree
Unseen by those who believe not in elementals
A world was furiously happening on the sly
I pretended to not hear, coaxing them with my ignorance
Being born with dog ears, I heard the elves laughter
They work harder and more exuberantly than brownies.
Had they felled this tree? Or had it been downed by pixies?
I heard their tittering laughs and they are the fierce ones.
What are you doing? My companion asked me.
She would not notice an elemental if it sat on her nose.
I resolved to come back later, alone.
I could tell they were in the throes of getting ready for a feast.
Luckily, this shipwrecked tree had the distinction
Of being a marvelously beautiful bit of nature
Something you do not see more than once a lifetime
No wonder she had been claimed by the fey.
I watched a tree grow
as a single leaf stretched
to touch ground
its homage in the descent
heralds came laying siege
lifting a brown orphan
lost to nature
a whirlwind creates
its first movement
this is music
southern winds gust
through the hedgerow
in the Mexican wave
of mother earth
still I can hear
rhythms in the wind
as the death of stillness
is upon me
I dance, confetti
circles my head
as I touch
finger to a bloom
flying without wings
vibrating to life
in the eddy and flow
my dress dances a samba,
as hair pirouettes on end
static with excitement
braced in her hold
I am fearless
elemental that I am
A Rhyme come now at this Great Time,
Known to all from long ago as a dream,
Premonitions were named as screams
and the Vision was failed to reveal.The Reel...
has turned and Reality burns a new Light.
It's called laugh a little and grow some sight.
The balancing of an Elemental.Penned a
Mission so simple.... Euclid.eUs.ly ridiculous
as a Matter of factual and it was so theoretical
to be taken toooo scientifically serious, but it was.
Grab it see, said Real.activity it's just as in.sane
as the insanity of this poetry, but....
"Euclid's axioms seemed so intuitively obvious..."
they said while my head exploded into sum
gravitationally upside down formation of my
eyes which made me realize that it's all just a
pycho.delicately. bright trip anyway...
So I turned the page and read the comics.instead.
Now, had they said it was Lucid.Reticuli.ously ridiculous...
Perhaps even lick smackin' deliciously.kissable.ish...
I might'a believed it. But language is just relative anyway.
Duck Dodgers now there's a true explorer of the Mind
with his flat feet ninja warrior lisping beak of a tweaked
out brain. Yes, that Cat was in the sane for sure and
when he and his side.kick would make sushi? Well,
that's when the Universe just had to step up and take
sum notice. Penned.in.a.Mission a duck billed notion
of Motion in a vacuum... seriously, who's driving
us back from this expedition?
lol!! I hope you enjoy the ride, I think we're lost....
===========
And this is dedicated to my friend who made
me curious to look up Euclidean Geometry. ;)
I accepted your challenge Jedi.Master.WordCrafter...
and now here I yam. lol. with my spinage.
I thank you for the inspiration. Grand Qi.baca
Form:
Im tiefsten Unendlichkeit bin ich immerhin, da wo auch der Trommelstein steht! Er spricht mit
mir dürch die Dunkelheit!
Wann die geschliffenen Eiströpfen sowie auch die Schneefloken fällen und das glanzende,
himmlische Licht scheint auf die weiten Felder und die unzählingen Baüme.
Mit der Anstrengung des Alltags, zieht der Mensch seine Energie dürch das Einatmen der
natürlichen Kräfte.
Das Gleichgewicht der Elemente entspringt aus dem Erdiennen, und erinert uns an das wahre
Leben.
© Joe Maverick 25-02-2010
15-10-2010
MY THOUGHTS IN SLEEP
In the deepest timelessness I am,
And by me stands the pulsing stone,
He speaks with me through darkness deep
Polished ice on the fallen snowflakes drop.
A glittering heavenly light over rolling fields
Innumerable trees illuminate.
As with inflexible problems of mundane life
Mankind expends his energy,
While inhaling deep from nature’s breath.
The eternal balance of elemental life goes on,
& From within the earth’s bowels deep, groans emanate,
to impart to me life’s verity.
© Joe Maverick 25-02-2010
15-10-2010
A banjo is playing in the bodega.
A door proclaims its ding and dong
voltaic birds bounce to its tintinnabulum,
flickers of auricular featherings
wipe shelves of a million years of dust.
The banjo is at prayer and you are there
as you peal with its cadence and quiver.
The bodhisattva
they that dynamo the sonic tides,
the waves,
air waves, sounding and soundless,
who sparkle
in the high deep heavens
and in the low wallows
where ankles are the muddy roots
of wind chimes and cow bells.
Sounds unleashing
the knelling thunder of peace.
Alabaster hands poised in mid-air
signaling an elemental perfection.
The kinetics of gesture and stillness,
as doors open their choiring mouths,
as banjos mimic the sounds
of all practicing avatars,
and we hearing
only the ding yet missing the dong
unthinking un-ring Gods temple gong.