Long Exhuming Poems
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Ambiguity within mine
doodling Yankee mind that
arises, asper current
hoopla harrumphing
American Civil War statues,
which verbal/written spat
particularly regarding southern generals
(many atop horses) arouses
call to arms whereat,
excited curiosity possibly twill incite
dangerous extraneous, mutinous,
treasonous tit for tat
promulgation exhuming ghosts
abolitionists of Dead Poets Society
screeching like a wildcat
signaling resumption, sans
war between the states recruiting
every able bodied proletariat
after well nigh one
hundred fifty four plus years,
which repurpose sing reformat
might transform mine
humdrum friggin existence
into one enviable secretariat,
where these ears will
hear constant ratatat,
when bombardiers din
temporarily doth pause
scampering atop rampart
analogous to polecat
espying the freshly minted "enemy"
unconcerned if maneuvers induce pitapat
cuz resumption of battle will drown,
this weasel granted leeway within Union
Schwenksville, Pennsylvanian nonfat
spry old man confident fighter
despite civilian life
extant, viz noncombat
acclimated to rustic/primitive conditions
honest to dog abode comprised
thatched hut housed within mudflat
only during rainfall rigging
makeship shower plus laundromat
counting lucky stars kismat
blessed without necessity
to whip out handy dandy hemostat,
thus yours truly ready for action
quite content nsync
within no man's land habitat
linkedin with nearest battalion via
microchip embedded within
noggin rock solid as hardhat
genetically modified lest
Johnny Rebel lob brickbat
also on lookout against
swampy hungry creatures,
thence I will thrust
these lovely bones akin to acrobat.
Akin to the void centred everywhere,
bliss magnetism fills us from head to toe,
as our formless awareness self-aware,
sets sails in the boat God Himself does row.
Pristine presence delights as bliss beats peak,
exhuming the false from mind-body urn
and in the stream of love, we dip our beak,
becoming the flame by choosing to burn.
All that that is transient, holds no appeal,
for now our aura radiates God’s light,
in the glow of which, our karmic wounds heal,
as bliss pulsates within, by day and night.
Breath by breath thus, as delusion’s destroyed,
a million suns ignite our head ovoid.
I write of feelings real;
some difficult to express.
And encourage hearts to feel;
with a poetic caress.
My pen interrogates pain;
trying to describe the hurt.
And redefine what is sane;
revealing the hidden dirt.
My poems evoke feelings;
from first breath to Death's embrace.
And shattering glass ceilings;
amplify pride and disgrace.
My words connect with a few;
beyond their expected norms.
For I share their point of view;
through rhyme and established forms.
My muse supersedes all bounds;
exhuming dead dreams and fears.
And my fragmented heart pounds;
visiting anguish and tears.
My soul pools in hurting hearts
as it leaks upon the page.
And anxiety departs;
from the heart of this old sage.
Being God's Pen
Written: by Tom Wright
2006
Thoughts Promenade inside my head
Absent of composition or direction,
As water dollops on a heated griddle.
I pass time exhuming notions
Thought long ago perished.
From night filled crevices of my mother wit,
I examine ideas whose propellant
is as monster bat wings darting to and fro.
Free flying, suddenly vanishing,
As if having been exiled from my psyche.
Their duration, analogous to griddle dollops;
Once vaporization has occurred,
I'm left to contemplate these mental aerobics,
In selfish tones, while examining my worthiness
As God's humble quill this day.
Conceivably, those concepts I've pursued,
Will birth in ink another time.
A time of God's convenience and choosing.
This lapse shed showers of sorrows
Piercing my diamond heart with its arrows
And as it breaks within my grasp furrows
It paints little hells on my minds marrows
Oh! Pretty maiden so dark and comely
Exhuming my youthful passion spontaneously
With infectious smiles and extorted kisses
Your seduction breaks honest promises
There our shadow coupled in the pool of yesterday’s rain
Ill-memories of passionate groans and silent whisper
Accentuating painful pleasure for gain
A deluded victory, a stunting stigma,?
Growing is the ears to this confession
Of rumbling rhymes and straying clauses
Still before you condemn me pause
To this myth of contrition.?
Knowing life has been already impulsed
We embrace and release both joy and pain
There are in truth no foes to be repulsed
Touch gentle, is free from blemish and stain
Mind-body unless ensouled is but dust
We know our organic form will decay
Why for then do we nurture thoughts of lust
Law of cause and effect will make us pay
Feeding not dark desires, our false self dies
There is no regret, for it never was
Our unshackled soul then flies to new highs
We are living light and God is the cause
Exhuming then, cravings of lower mind ~
Whilst immanent we transcend ego’s bind
29-May-2023
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
All paths do seem valid, in their own right
What matters is that we get to the roots
As we embark upon our wingless flight
Moment to moment, as life pulse reboots
Each path requires, that we release our past
In silence, surrender our lower mind
Fearful thoughts and desires, into form cast
Exhuming thereby, narrow ego bind
Mind-body empty, behold what remains
When thoughts are still, bliss within overspills
Our soul shines in glory, pure and unstained
Such is the miracle, of divine will
Bliss within throbs, in continuity
Time stretched stillness becomes eternity
18-May-2021
Joy at all times, wish of our heart,
fulfilled when we add love to cart.
Aligned with rapturous bliss chimes,
wish of our heart, joy at all times.
To attain bliss, we must let go,
exhuming cravings of ego.
Recognising God alone is,
we must let go, to attain bliss.
The truth is known, when we are still,
feeling within, bliss overspill,
reclaiming soul’s light, all home grown.
When we are still, the truth is known.
Transcending mind, we vaporise,
welcoming each offered surprise.
Free from fears and desires that bind,
we vaporise, transcending mind.
04-September-2022
(Swap Quatrain)
Having been, seen and so known
light of Self, we now atone,
by fixating attention
on God, for soul’s ascension.
We know we’re not body-mind,
so we’ve left all fears behind,
poised always in witness mode,
heart being our true abode.
We’ve come here to love and learn,
transforming feeble form urn,
by exhuming the ego,
whence truth of God, we then know.
Tranquil silence paves the way,
to see the light, clear as day,
pure heart imbibing God’s grace,
in time beholding His face.
Holy books do have their use
but if love be our heart’s muse,
recognising all are one,
nothing else then need be done.