Long Ever changing Poems
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Inspired by one of my favorite bands, Rise Against, and the song is called,
“Ever-changing” (Acoustic). Please listen to this song if you don’t know of it. It’s raw &
powerful.
“Have you ever been a part of something? That you thought would never end. But then, of
course, it did.” –Rise Against
“I fell in ‘Like’ with you”
With her smile
I melted unto oblivion’s redemption
Candy coated perceptions, windows’ gap
Seeping brilliance refreshment
Uncertainty resolution, polished
Absorbed into closeness sun
Yet these eyes still…see
Butterflies taking notice, missing you…as you stood in front of me
Strong, yet soft legs
Foundation of my face to rest upon
Scars…fading
A cremated sin
Yet, elongated moments of silence
Created abruption’s new face
The face of change
When she turned to me and said
“I’m not sure, anymore”
Emotional lullaby, rocking me to sleep
New battles with spectral flashback
Trying to get under my skin, a drunken tick facing demise
Phoenix’s sunrise, rejuvenating my recycled defenses
Yet, today, these rays just aren’t bright enough to burn sadness away
And with these sounds of storm clouds & Fall on horizon’s breath
These grounds are so familiar, yet bittersweet
This heart doesn’t want to be enlightened by karma today
It wants to be held for how it shines now
Denied…distance wins again today
Slavery whipped punishments in miles and blocks
This must end
Because I try to keep lines open to get a call from you
Yet all I hear are booty calls with busy signals
And yet something has kept me here too long
But can they leave me, if I’m already gone?
Something has kept me here too long
Karma’s laughter
But, through it all, I will shine
…
How I wish my mere presence can bring joy’s tear to her eye
Sadly though, now, the lines are drawn
Yet I wonder if this feeling is gone
Have the best parts of this…come and gone?
…
Maybe I’ll never know the truth
Perhaps she was misguided by jealousy’s deprivation
Deteriorating heart’s splendor
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps “Better Man 2.0” appeared from Cloud 9’s fallacy
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps
She held onto the past
As I, drawn to waterfall’s edge
Allowed myself
To let go…and F
A
L
L
© Drake J. Eszes
“We adore those who hurt us. Yet, we hurt those who adore us.” -Anonymous
At the edge of twilight, where logic fades,
and the labyrinthine corridors of thought stretch endlessly,
I find myself wandering on the shoreless sea of imagination,
where poetry breaks the chains of reason,
and everything is equally possible and impossible.
In this boundless realm, I sculpt my verses from dreams,
each line a thread spun from the depths of the subconscious,
where fantastic waves caress the sands of reality,
erasing the boundaries between what is and what could be.
Here, I conjure castles in the air,
each tower a testament to the freedom of the mind,
unfettered by the constraints of logic.
The relentless waves of imagination
wash over my creations, shaping them
into ever-changing forms of wonder and melancholy.
In the silent solitude of this mental expanse,
I wander through fields of metaphors,
where thoughts bloom like ethereal flowers,
their petals whispering secrets of the unseen.
Each step I take unveils a new story,
a tapestry woven from the threads of possibility,
where every path leads to a different horizon.
In this dance of words and visions,
philosophy becomes an art of unraveling,
shattering the continuity of argument,
and guiding the soul towards the edge of the infinite.
Here, in the twilight between thought and dream,
I find a sanctuary where the heart speaks its truth,
unbounded by the limits of reason.
I dream of a future painted in shades of joy and sorrow,
where the ephemeral nature of happiness
is both a gift and a curse,
a fleeting moment captured in the lines of a poem.
In the deepest corners of my longing,
I seek a partner in this journey,
a soul steadfast and true,
but the cruel irony of fate decrees that this search
is a path I must walk alone.
My heart, fractured by the weight of this truth,
seeks solace in the quiet of resignation,
promising that somewhere, happiness awaits.
And in this endless sea of imagination,
I find a strange comfort,
knowing that in the realm of the fantastic,
everything is equally possible and impossible.
Thus, I stand at the threshold of the infinite,
a poet adrift on the waves of creativity,
my verses a testament to the boundless possibilities
that lie beyond the shores of logic,
a reminder that in the world of poetry,
the magic of melancholy flows like a river,
carrying us to places where dreams and reality intertwine.
Fragments
They will be...
you do these kinds of things
can't be helped
imagination Band Aids some call them
I know
you just do
fingers wrapped ‘round cold steel
it's then
it's now
differences slight
like playing marbles
tripod-cradled taws and steelies
"Bombers" "Pots"
"shooters" all
aim straight
roll in the hole
you wait a long time
you know there's more to touch
you'll cradle other steel
formidable kind
you know
you hope
you're a kid
you'll do your best
find other holes
aim and shoot
some you dig
some dug for you
explosions know indiscretion
hell...
they say beginnings never end
always renewing
like dawn's edge ever changing
reds oranges yellow
lying on your back
knew those once
before the night never ended
smell the smell now
it's all the same
keeping life going
safe
clean
sterilized
that's what they do
amplified speakers seek help
always there's a page
off the wall
in your battlefront ISP
headgear no different
always the call
always the request
imagination tools
battle tools
you know what's coming
you just do
the swoosh of auto-doors
distant sirens
always there's sirens
always there's arrivals
like now
drinking my coffee
another first day of a new year
every year so familiar
pushing through iron air
waiting to be free
to see a sunrise again
to know a candle still glances
but now
just footsteps
coming at me
a walk I've known
Bethesda recall
remembering when sight
remained at the ready
absorbing fetid squalor
half naked Afghan children
barbarous patience
staring wildly as we passed
elder's eyes theirs
we cradling shooters defenseless
smiling
until
too many buried IEDs
I adjust
steps almost here
sitting seems forever
that's wheeled-life for now
robotic legs in the works
back there
back in Bethesda
coming
coming soon
for now
standard issue dark glasses
covering eyes that once were
footsteps stop
standing now
in front of me
me
Taking my hands
"Lt. Baygen...it's a boy."
"Shall we...your wife is waiting"
my hands grip the steel
following todays fragment
forging yesterday's pieces
a doctor
an imagination beyond
rolling my hands atop the chrome and rubber wheels
my imagination Band Aids
how shiny it all is they tell me
this transport
this evidence
today's somewhere
will he let me cradle him
will he look at me with hatred or compassion
will he know we have made him
what he might become
fragments
longing
I’m not afraid of rejection
I’m afraid of the phoenix that will rise from my spine with the threat of treason
Suppress the flame and walk away
Use your once tempted fingers to point yourself in the direction of least resistance
It’s not the road less traveled by,
It’s the lifeless path, ignored and left to crumble
And now it’s shapeshifting through a lifetime
With internal scars and deep holes that desperately need filling
And if you think I’m talking about a road, than you’re not the brightest bulb in the bunch
And if you think I mean with asphalt than you’re head is not as sharp as I thought it was
Waiting for secrets to be spilled
But you are the secret
You’re life is just chemicals and I’m not afraid of rejection
I’m afraid of combining the wrong elements of friction
To where I can’t come back from this reaction
A perfect pairing like the sun and the snow
Under every step, swam the quicksand
But we were too blinded by my naivety to know
Romeo and Juliet had nothing on us
But we ended even more tragically
And less enigmatically
I'm in the hunger games for your attention
And there's ever-changing rules I keep missing that you fail to mention
And breaking them could lead to my undeserving disqualification
But I’ve already demoted these thoughts into empty air
Hoping they’d vanish if I just ignore them
Sometimes you have to pretend your house isn’t haunted
For the spirits to finally exit
I’m not afraid of rejection
I’m afraid of the burning passion I can see in my eyes without a reflection
I’m terrified of the way I fall for corrupted introspection
And with a burning passion comes a burning question
What would've happened if I went through with it?
I’m not afraid of rejection
I’m afraid of the avalanche that will bury me if I reclimb this mountain
And looking up from the bottom seems so intimidating
But a butterfly never worries about what it looks like in the beginning
I’m so tied down, like a rope around my neck, I’m suspended here by something
So convoluted, is your mind a black hole or a galaxy?
If you’re Juliet, than you know who I’d be
There's lingering passion in my eyes I don't need a reflection to see
Is it gunpowder or a lack of sugar and water?
You can't be the lighter, I can't be the hairspray
Just suppress the flame and walk away
Three Tribute poems-- composed by me,
For Longfellow blog….
(1.)
Glory Of Faith's Triumphant Golden Crowns
The rays of morn took their first golden breath
Dispersing powers of night's darkling mists
First gleams romancing sweet the earthen shores
Beating back dark shadows with glowing fists
Demanding night accept its coming death!
Triumphant crowns!
Dawn's first yawning, a parade of new dreams
Waking Fate and its ever growing lists
With dancing echoes of showers to fall
Beating back dark shadows with glowing fists
Birthing flowers born from resplendent streams!
Triumphant crowns!
Sweet the softest callings of better days
With man rising to earn his daily bread
And Nature singing true to cheer life's all
Earth no longer mourning yesterday's dead
Future hope setting sail as sunbeams play!
Triumphant crowns!
Humanity follows its usual course
While bright blue-set skies rejoice overhead
Teeming hordes traversing their daily treks
Across well-worn pathways from life well fed
Amidst the carnage of loss and remorse!
Triumphant crowns!
Father Time speaks demanding to be heard
Above the din of crowds surging about
Commanding its fleeing hours to obey
Sternly obeyed were its arrogant shouts
And the infinite powers of each word!
Triumphant crowns!
Sun was setting, its daily chores all done
Mortals noted the rapid fleeing light
All had felt the ever changing new course
Some with increasing joy, others with fright
Dark shadows arose screaming lets have fun!
Triumphant crowns!
The moon sped brightly forth taking top stage
Stars came twinkling across heavenly skies
The wise old owl took its same midnight flight
Night spread its woven cloak of evil lies
While sleeping crowds await first new rage!
Triumphant crowns!
The rays of morn took their first golden breath
Dispersing powers of night's darkling mists
First gleams romancing sweet the earthen shores
Beating back dark shadows with glowing fists
Demanding night accept its coming death!
Triumphant crowns!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-17-2021
Romanticism, ( That Man Could Wake To See Coming Of Eternity )
Blog poem.
If you are the vast, ever-changing ocean,
I will be the sturdy mountain, holding you close,
Embracing your gentle morning waves with care,
And welcome your crashing tidal surges in the evening without fear.
If you are the radiant sun that brightens each day,
I will be the mighty Hehuanshan peak, basking in your brilliant rays,
Creating a vast space for all to admire your dazzling glow,
Let your eternal, loving warmth follow us wherever we go.
In Alishan's green embrace, tall cedars dance and sway,
Whispering sweet tales as lovers in a romantic play.
Sunrise dawns, painting the skies in vibrant, glowing hues,
Reminding me of the love in your eyes, a view I will never lose.
I will carve winding trails just for your wandering feet,
Guiding you along wherever our hiking paths meet.
Darling, never fear; I will always have your back,
Together, we will explore; no adventure we will lack.
If you are the soft, nourishing rain,
I will be the Zengwen Reservoir, receiving your affection,
Drinking like a man parched and rebirthed,
Quenching my deepest thirsts in my yearning soul.
When winter's biting chill makes our bodies shiver,
We will find solace in Guanziling hot spring haven,
Where our passionate essences can blend and delver,
With whispered tales and dreams to share until dawn's craven.
If you are a playful monkey swinging through the trees,
I will be lush Shoushan, a hidden haven for your mischief,
As hikers delight in your joyful dancing from branch to branch with ease,
Filling the air with laughter and cheerful melodies.
If you are an elegant sea turtle, gliding gracefully below,
I will be peaceful Liuqiu Island, a serene home to wander to and fro,
Captivating all with your gentle movements beneath the waves,
A rare, beautiful treasure in the ocean's vibrant depths.
If the stresses of life bear down, leaving you weary, my dear,
I will sweep you away to Kenting Beach; your worries will disappear,
Where you can bask in the sun's tender warmth and affection,
As soothing waves lovingly kiss your tired feet in perfect reflection,
My soul will turn into the soft sand beneath your feet there,
A healing place to lay, lulled by the ocean's soothing air.
To be continue @Lyrical Journey of a Lover through Taiwan-II
Last Call
This is where I feel at ease. Senses heightened subtly by the mixture of light and darkness. The night time lights; bar lights, street lamps, flashing fluorescent advertisements, candle light, moon light; nights are illuminated with versatility, glow sticks ever growing, ever changing the scenery. The street lamps reflect in a puddle near the sidewalk. Fleeting fluorescents pronounce the beauty of eclecticism. Candlelight surpassed only by the light of moon’s romance
for whom do I emanate
light and dark mingle
perceptions change according
Reflecting back, I had no hips when I began my career. They were not necessary for my clients. I beheld the warmth and beauty, starving for positive attention, and pleasing another, after family imprisonment had me chained down and kicked for so long. (A flower for just a greeting, I had found my calling). After thirty-three years in my lucrative, business, I have blossomed into the shape of an hourglass, with the wisdom and class that come naturally with study for my service. I have a few fledglings of my own, able to sway their hips and converse interestingly with the painted lips of their chosen trade. They will flourish alongside me, if they take my hard, learned lessons as gospel.
youth is coveted by most
stay fit or lose ground
keep current and set high goals
As luck would have it daddy broke naught my spirit, nor my bones, but did a job on my secret parts, sacred and hidden from others. Wait! What is this I understand? I may work and emancipate myself! Be freed of my family’s corrupt prison of Ugly. I earned my papers at sixteen with family applause. Scapegoats gone, time to more than survive….but thrive. Yes, freedom is a state of mind, yet one’s mind holds only so much tenacity.
supreme Judge is not human
proper escorts, charm
and will never hear, last call
Sunshine Williams
Anyone can write…
and drown in their self-delusions;
from persons into personifications
lists of passions, glorify self's illusions;
down those lists,
most veiled by incomprehension
one's passion is most often expressed
as the byproduct,
of misconstrued personal emotions;
therefore, in these briefs that follow
rest some seeds for those
whose mental fields lay perpetually fallow…
Xenocrates, his gods being unity and duality
i.e. episteme, aisthesis, and doxa
are lost to US,
by rue of epistemonike aisthesis;
Mersenne's numbers,
to Eratosthenes' sieve
Erd?os' factorization,
and Archimedes' constant conceived;
Holy vowels expressions!
Great Gobs of Goose shite, please!
release US from this context,
relieve this tumultuous tease;
probe Bertrand's Postulate,
exposing your thinking's
prime numbers seized;
however shallow, and wordless
your tongue tied thoughts do concede…
so many things are above me,
so many more lay beneath
my scratching, itching, and twitching
these are reminders of my simpleton's grief…
in this fiat before me
on these issues held, and in my beliefs
that my mind is much more
than the street corner tavern's
proverbial hat rack…
now that's a relief!
What is it within US?
that sullen darkness and introversion hides
those snide daily reminders
the eclipse of the sun
and or a debutante's swoon
a cheap parlour tricks wonder
or that pin-striped baboon's face
we each express as we howl at the moon…
Excuse me this meandering
but, it is my gut busting chortle
you now so surely conceive
that this little snippet from our dear William
does so help you believe
that we all live this one time
so as ourselves, do profoundly achieve
what your inquisitive conscience
exposes as your life's
most constant semibreve…
['Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe, of such a thing, as I myself.']
in conclusion of
this bit of confusion
do infuse this allusion
as your daily transfusion
of the smack of illusion
and the sole, blithe, transformational revolution
now necessary for your mindset's
ever changing and ongoing mental de-evolution.
Life from down Under
Beneath the turbulent, undulating seas of one’s life,
I have swam, against the ever changing, raging currents.
Many times, without foresight !!!, towards dire consequences.
Looking up from the depths at the underside of wave after wave
rolling over me, watching many a ship pass beneath star lit nights,
finding safe harbours, for brief moments, then moving on into the light
and the arms of new adventures, journeys into the mysteries of life.
Mysteries that this waterlogged, ancient piece of driftwood fathoms not.
This piece of driftwood, not but debris left to decay upon the shores of time lost.
Lost !!!, but never forgotten in the light of day – dreams
reflecting, refracting, sparkling like jewels upon the crest of waves.
Waves that will, across this plane, slip into the body of a safe harbour
and upon sandy shores, bask in the sun light of one’s history.
History, all that is left to a lost, old soul, a wander, an uninhibited free spirit
who has become locked within his memories hoard and the hollow shell of old age.
This spirit looking through the haze of murky H2O and into skies so blue,
remembering, reminiscing, seeing from within the darkness of oceans so deep,
of what once was, of all that could have been a much different life, but was never to be.
Accepting the currents flow, even as the stagnate waters of fate, tend to dictate,
direction, they continue to wash over one as he awaits going into that good night,
without rage he lays among the seaweeds waiting for amphibians to come and turn the page.
Upon land, many gardens were cultivated, planted with millions of seeds.
Those that blossomed gave some beauty that lingered on among the many weeds.
Voids were filled, moments were given freely, life was lived and in the end filled needs
After all is said, that has long been done, the journeys, the adventures, in spite,
were one hell of a ride and now all is said and done, one cannot hide, wrong or right
in all that has been integrated, has become nourishment for all, this old soul just had to feed.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 31st, 2019
Resurrected from the dust,
Revisited, Reviewed and Revised
October 12th, 2019
you are all a lost generation -- Gertrude Stein ?
I
Once hallowed encephalon
cavernous cerebral chasms
now less serene
ruptured n' spleen
Subjected to ravenous days?
Days n' illumination?
n' summers hibernation?
Awaiting eschatology and Madonna's divination
In summers somnolent slumbers I was told
In dreams of all truths and history's scrolled
and what a fair delication to unfold
truth rings from the shell aft each reeling beak's descent
Forsake of the shell's salty fleshes derivment
A fleshy flower buds on the briar
To pluck and dissect or leave to admire
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
Subjected to my piety in blinding ruth
did I in dreaming sin for sooth?
Had Queen Mab or Archimago
twist my thrice twisted dreams
with lies, abashing
and which in violence dance and beam
As waves with phosphorus' glow
they in guise clever crashing: gleam
false sooth, in golden pools of indigo
ever changing yet constant
As waves upon the shore
singing
Sometimes soft and melancholy
Sometimes malice, as to destroy
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream
II
Oh my visage
how it pales in the light beside...
her
my madonna
my oracle my day
Darkness in its defined fray
and I Amidst a Yeats' Byzantine nightmare
to linger, to consist, to decay, an ill-stared heir
a doxology,
pregnant with heterodoxy.
Paling in comparison, in cavernous fright
days n' days and infinite blight
Static tremors. Intangible vibrations
Winter
Summer
Solstice
Hibernation
To seek what lay beneath
the countenance of the Madonna
the purity
The past I prospectively reap
n' seep
n' sow
The city's concrete catacombs glow
The future in night
day's abrasive
in its own right
reside in the day
confide in night
Rage, rage and endless blight
in dreaming escape day n' days of
a lifetimes endless death, in love
Death in creation
dreaming awakes, awakenings dream
In our waking weakness lies perfection
But, oh how sweet to dream