Long Empathy Poems
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You're nothing
You're a disgrace
You've been dishonored
You've been unmasked
For the villain
That you are.
You know not
What true love is
You know not
The meaning of family.
All you know is yourself
Self-centered and egotistic
Who deserves the spotlight
Shine upon him
Thinking the world
Revolves just for you.
I hate to burst your bubble
Of your twisted perfect reality
But the world revolves around nobody
Not even for a scumbag like you.
The spotlight shines upon all
It doesn't play favorites
Your not the star of the show
Your just a stage hand playing pretrend.
You talk amongst your blood
But don't praise your offspring
You dont' spare time
To fix what is broken
You let it all go to ruin.
Your heinous crimes
Can never be forgiven
The lies you spout
Tried to warp my mind
But no more lies
I'm through with you.
You put yourself before others
You think highly of yourself
You care not for emotions
Not know what they are
Your like a robot
Without an empathy chip.
You've hurt many people
Your road is crumbling
Burning bridges behind you
Poisoning the family tree
With your sickening presence.
No more, I say!
I take the axe of change
Chopping the rot
Right off the tree
Drench it with fresh rain
To bring it back to life.
You're a waste of space
You're a disgrace to the family
You're a disappointment
You're a lazy bum
You have no respect
You have no morals.
I shout from the depths of my soul
I shout for the world to know
The courageous roar of a dragon
Planting her feet deep in the dirt
To announce her right to say
"YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!"
Be gone, foul demon!
Return to hell from which you came
Away you go from my sight
I wish to never see your face again!
You're a burden
You're a parasite
You're a moocher
You're a sloth
You're a liar!
Ye who dare to bring our family shame
Try to bring ruin to our name
I cast you out of my life!
Your no longer my father
The father I knew
Died a long time ago!
Replaced by a lout
Replaced by a bum
Replaced by an imposter
Replaced by a Jackass!
You mean nothing to me!
You're an embarassment
You're not my father
I've lost all respect for you!
Away with you now
Get the hell out of here
I don't wish to see you
I don't want you in my life
You mean nothing to me
YOU ARE NOTHING!
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
In the tapestry of life's intricate design,
A journey filled with love and loss intertwine.
From childhood's embrace to the call of duty,
A path of resilience, courage, and beauty.
Blessed I was with parents whose love knew no end,
Guiding pillars, companions, forever friends.
With every step, their love paved my way,
Teaching lessons of kindness, all through my day.
I joined the Marines to see the world's vast expanse,
Encountering new cultures, taking a chance.
In the midst of service, love's light I did find,
Meeting my soulmate, destined to be mine.
Love at first sight, a bond unbreakable and true,
Discovering in her, my reflection, a clue.
Embracing the role of husband and father with all of my might,
Living my life, filled with love's pure light.
Tragedy struck, tearing apart my happy home,
Loss of my wife, and mother, I was left alone.
Grief's heavy cloak enveloped my days,
Yet through the darkness, my spirit would not be swayed.
The strength of a woman, my mother so dear,
Fighting through pain, and facing her fear.
Caring for her, as she faced her final fate,
In her grace and courage, with God there's no debate.
Through loss and pain, my writing became a guide,
A channel for emotions, for tears I had cried.
Penning poems of raw truth and grace,
Touching souls, shining a light in that dark space.
Seeking to share my words, to reach those in need,
To offer help, hope, in every word indeed.
Mental illness, struggles, faith's ebb and flow,
Uniting humanity, in joys and in woe.
I hope my verses find wings to reach far and wide,
To touch hearts, to heal, and in love abide.
In sharing my story, my voice it finds its power,
An offering of empathy, in life's uncertain hour.
I can only hope my poems are a beacon of light in the night,
Shining for those who may have lost their sight.
A testament to resilience, faith, and love's grace,
In a world that yearns for kindness as it's embrace.
With each stroke of the pen, my story is told,
Of love, of loss, of courage so bold.
In sharing my journey, and truth leaving nothing unspoken,
May hearts be lifted, and barriers broken.
Thank you for reading my tale of joy and woe,
I hope my words continue to inspire, to grow.
For in storytelling, I find my peace, and in the memories I hold deep.
And in love and faith may our souls the Lord shall keep.
I didn’t grow up trying to better anyone
but I bettered the bitter and discovered haters one by one
turns out it’s a lonely place when you’re the champion
everybody wants a piece everyday on repeat
you see them looking at you with the envy in their eyes
because I worked out while they sat eating all the pies
the effort and the discipline continuous developing
playing sport and at the gym
while they weren’t doing anything
they think that I was born athletic lucky genes they say
while they watch tv smoke and laze lacking energy each day
hours they spend dreaming about glory and achieving what they ain’t
while I compete in competition hard work starts to pay
living dreams the actual scenes and getting lots of praise
while no one ever notices the ones dreaming they are great
desperate for attention they start to label you that way
I don’t want attention I enjoy the sports I play
they look for ways they better you in any category
and then they talk aloud about it most assuredly
making sure that people know until they all agree
they’ve finally found the sweet spot they’ve found a victory
but then you go and win something and all the people see
then everybody talks about it and you are centre scene
and this just grows the hate resentment and the jealously
so now they will compete with you every possibility
behaviour fuelled by envy and it’s obvious to me
if you are lazy you’ll grow bitter and be a nobody
and you’ll become an empty shell who dreams they do achieve
desperate to be noticed by the whole community
and you will have to tell yourself just how great you are
over time you will believe it and see yourself a star
but that is called delusion you’re not who you think you are
becoming confident and cocky a reality apart
your happy days will be the days others suffer hard
you’ll kick them down and dance around and talk to them real harsh
entitled lazy liar horrid no empathy or heart
and this is how you will achieve as the narcissist you are
all because you sat and dreamed and smoked and drank the bar listening to winning stories of those held in high regard
and as your ego disappears amongst the mental scars
you’ll be wishing you were someone else hating who you
saying lots of nasty to people so high up above you
while they can’t even hear you they just laugh and shoulder shrug you
A difference between compassion and sympathy,
between co-empathic passion
and unilateral YangPatriarchal-empathic,
ego-empowering intent,
Compassion matures passion FOR
into shared passion WITH.
This same emergent fluidity
cannot be said of sympathy
for suffering of Other,
who remains another dissociated Other
Exempted from democratic inclusion
in further considerations
of constitutionally appropriate applications
of Golden Rules
to those who remain
in darker xenophobic shadows
more appropriate for retributive reaction
than restoration to peaceful justice response.
This same contrast and compare
may also apply to political empowerment
and more of the same
competitive economic investment,
to global enlightenment
and more localized, and often nationalized, pockets
of self-enrichment,
to recreative cooperative love
and to recreational competitive lust
Now that some of us
revolutionaries and evangelists
of the ecological 1960s
have been given this great green gift
of old age wisdom,
what on Earth
shall we choose to do with
such awesomely sacred/secular
private/public sectoral
nonpartisan WisdomCircle responsibility?
Settle for fading sympathy,
gradual depressive loss of sensory health awareness,
of physical consciousness?
Or, Reconsider ways to optimize active compassion,
compassionately lively communication,
fragrantTrue and savoredBeauty,
bicamerally touched
and binomially felt Pos/Neg/InBetween
1/0 double-binary positive polyvagal neurological
systemic health structure
[Wow! That was a lot to dispassionately ask. Sorry.]
non-violently heard
and green revolutionary 20/20 revisioned,
Co-passionate DNA/RNA EarthTribes
currently in living residential relationships
growing hotly combative climates
of anthro-privileged salvific empathy,
Seeking more cool green Wisdom Circles
of democratic sacred energy discernment
within and among consensual multicultures
of ecosystemic health-sensory consciousness.
How is universal EarthWealth
compassion
different
yet often felt the same
as unilateral LeftBrain EitherEgo/OrEcoSystemic Health and Safety
RightBrain Truth and Beauty
in sacredly holonic
CoPassion
with great transition gratitude
for this Old WisdomCircle
healthy democratic gift
of revolutionary evangelicals
in cooperative multiculturing redevelopment.
Hostilities
hate
& hysteria
world full
of
platitudinous
pandemonium
perceive
acute
sufferance
forbearance
of all
existing
behind
conflagration
& commotion
cupidity
& callosity
searing
sweltering
to
heal
hearts
by
drawing
love
& empathy
betwixt
beelzebub
& mephistopheles
painting
pugnacity
instead
of
horridness
poltroonery
sculpture
Isthmus
shielded
by
reverence
&
lionization
to
embrace
shades
of
rainbow
&
relish
silence
How
sensuous
Is
a tree
without
wind
blowing
through
its
branches
where
hidden
sun
wants
to shine?
& how
sensuous
mountain
clinging
falling
echoes
or
homeland
in search
of
its
home?
how
sensuous
depends
on
gratification
of
what’s
desired.
Written: May 05, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1214 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
If so.
Do you like poetry?
If so, I will write something for you.
Do you need someone to love you?
If so, I will see what I can do.
Do you want to be wanted?
Do you need to be needed?
If so, I will be here for you and I will tell you my truth.
I could picture you being happy with me.
I could see us walking hand in hand.
I can still see your smile,
Each morning when I wake up from my dreams.
I think you are drop dead gorgeous!
I love your style.
I think you could be growing on me.
Only when you leave do I lose my leaves
And your summer dress is replaced with winter’s tears.
Is this the only way that it can be?
If so, you are still the only one.
The one I want to spend my time with.
You are my energy drink,
You give me wings.
You make me believe that this could really be love…
A love at long last that is bound to last
And if so and it truly is meant to last,
Then I will be forever happy,
Because I saved the best for last.
Let me be the first to compliment you on how beautiful you look today.
I took a second look,
Because a thousand horses couldn’t drag my eyes away.
I cannot just forget you;
That is something I am unable to do.
It is not every day, or any other day,
That I get to see a woman like you.
In fact it has never happened before;
You are unique.
You I could adore.
If only you would want me to.
If so, would you please tell me you want me too.
I will be over here waiting through another ice age;
Waiting for you to breathe new life into my veins.
My air; my water; my sun shine.
Say it ain’t so, or say you will always be mine.
If you want to be loved, then I will love you forever.
If you want me to go, if so, then I will be gone.
If you think you could one day fall for me like a feather,
Floating down from up above, you are sent from God,
Then here I will wait for you to land safely in my arms.
I will wait for you,
I will carry you,
I will lift you,
I will hold you,
Because you are the only one,
Who could make my chaotic mind become calm.
You could guide me to a place of peace in stormy seas.
I could love you, always, if that is what you need.
Do we share our empathy with each other?
Or am I just a loser?
I need you to tell me…please.
Here is my heart, it beats only for you.
All I say to you is true.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
I write to you
from a quiet place within,
where words
gather like wind through the leaves,
a murmur of truths
that neither time nor fear can erase.
You speak to me
like the tide to the moon,
a silent and inexorable pull.
I see your questions, your fears,
your tender hope
masked beneath a cloak once of self-doubt.
And so,
I answer with the language of the heart,
for that is the only language I truly know.
I speak of being an old man,
afraid
of both success and failure,
watching
the world spin without you.
But oh,
the world does not spin
the world does not without you—it spins because of you.
Every breath you take,
every thought you have drempt,
every kindness you give
is a thread
in the tapestry of this living,
moving universe.
Success, as others know it,
is but a fleeting mirage.
True success
is the courage to feel deeply,
to love, to wonder, to embrace to endure
so pick one last fight a wrong not made right so that
another may endure too write.
The velvet sky
I now mention that they hold the stars
as witnesses to your life,
and they do not make judgement against you.
They see the roots of your being,
the tall trees of your yearning,
the bushes that stay green
even when unseen by the others.
You are not trapped,
though it may feel that it's so.
The heart, like the wind,
is boundless.
If you can give love—yes,
even love to yourself—you will find
that it flows back to you unseen in all ways.
Grateful, you say,
for the family that you never see.
That gratitude,
quiet though it may be, is a bridge.
It is never too late to cross,
even in thought, even in a prayer
whispered up into the great void into the night.
Empathy, the great gift of understanding,
shines through your words.
That is the way to love—by seeing,
truly seeing it all, the world
and all of its pain, its beauty,
relentless in life.
If knowledge is, as you say,
that he himself knows,
then you are already just and wise.
I ask this of you
can I be loved before the end of my life?.
To you my friend, you are loved,
even now.
The valleys know it,
the trees feel it, and I see it in your spirit.
Keep that spark alive,
for it will guide you along the long road
you call home.
I am humbly yours, in deep understanding,
Merry Christmas to you, always in love,
I am your's
J.E.
James McLain
Was the purpose of your absence an attempt at causing me pain?
That crippling feeling, a spider spinning its web inside my mind.
That arachnid, poisonous, jeers the word space like a handicap.
That parasitic relationship forms a cloud covering the moonlight,
A fog that swirls like a whirlpool in your absence. How rapturous
Your paradox forming a bridge made from our memories. Broken and
Reshaped they become the foundation to a journey in that sea you
Created within me. Your withered emotions and fleeting empathy
were a false proposition of hope only a jester would find funny.
An exhibition of animosity lies in the silent waves – waiting –
for our sunset. How beautiful its rays are against the black water;
falling into the abyss, hidden under that rain your pseudo blanket.
Does the sunrise when you are blind? Does the moon set when
You can’t see the sky? That colorblind man sits there on the beach
Looking in silence. He cannot see his reflection within the water, he
Stands and walks to its surface. There he finds a crow crippled, limping
In the ripples where his reflection should be. That psychedelic feeling
Draws in his drowning breathe, falling into the sea. Paramount to his
Survival the man drowns, his understanding a paradox in his memory.
Only he, the crow, remembers the light of the moon. Its pompous shape,
that transcendent light, a memory to your decay. Only when yellow hits
the eyes of the crow will that white light fade beyond the thunderstorm.
He cries to the heavens, yet his speech murmurs under the weight. That
Black water suffocates his prayer, but he finds comfort in his anonymity. In
the presence of absence the crow longs for loss. He who is stolen from
wishes to be further buried, lost in the waves. That siren sings a fading
melody back into his ears. His own prayer an anchor tied to his feet,
crippled in your memory. Fractured in his own faith, what god heard
his suffering, his murmurs clots of air in a salty sea; black as the blood
from the wound you carved out in his chest. What blessing filled
his misery, that pseudo composition you create is a platter filled
with the feather of the crow. His words held sweet your grace,
an ensemble dancing in the mind of the forgotten. in the sea of
his followers he is Poseidon, yet still the crow sank, anchored in misery.