Long Experimented Poems
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Wen I was jest a litl boy
An a pensil was mi toy
I likd to rit poms
An did mi best … homs
As a teenager
I began to revolt
I got an attitude
To the man I was rude
My writing was crude
I experimented
Adults were demented
I took a position
Refused to listen
This poetic young buck
Didn’t give a flying …
As a young adult, spreading my poetic wings,
I wanted to be free;
Free of inhibitions -
Free of rules and regulations –
Impress with my prodigious vocabulary
Attack sex, love, morals and politics on scented sheets
I had an urge to explore the fascinating new and majestic universe
And my poems were free to be as free as me
As I matured and mellowed out
No longer harboring the need to shout
My poems once again found their rhyme
And I returned back to a younger time
Full circle, I find my journey spent
Every step of the way being heaven sent
He recently moved into a double-wide
with working, some would say classless,
while others would argue for clueless
white trailer non-trash.
He's getting along
in this post-middle class
over hill
and ranting shrill retiring constitution
declaring interdependence
in this, Earth's great
ReFormed Hippy GreenCommunion
Old mostly happy geezers
and gussies, yes,
most people of the park
not quite relentlessly white
and ambiguously green--not afraid of old and new colors
they have long known,
or guessed someone they knew
knew,
with decent Christian names
and local
non-postal reputations
for fishing
and walking
and breathing,
cooking
and baking
more like all the white folk do
than not.
Most of his neighbors
recall an antiHippy 1960s
youthful passioned past,
some red Vietnam militarized patriarchal
and some blue/green counter-cultural
activists all agree
Hippies got some sex things
too disconnectedly wrong,
but experimented more healthily
with green experiential ecology
of living simply
with cooperative non-violent sufficiency--
a potentially safer integrity
of wealthy health compassion systems,
organic and holistic.
And, yet, not just this sufficiency of EarthJust Truth
but also celebrating Her Sacred Blue/Green Global Beauty
rooted in religiously
re-membering
Come By Here, Lord,
still sung with white privilege
to steal your Culture, Girl
in soulful performance art,
Kum By Yah
served with vanilla GirlScout cookies,
Celebrative
meditative multicultural indigenous prayers
for Earth's Great Green EnLightenment
as Ego's transcendent polypathic
compassionate EmPowerment
of suffering souls
and solitude
and green/blue gratitude
Here
in his new but old trailer park,
revisiting
ReFormed Hippy GreenCommunions.
...IV.
My vision began to flux oddly,
vomit came and went from my throat,
my balance shifted here and there,
once again, like I was on a boat.
And then I was back inside it,
looking out from that great machine,
my fellows looked on, I focused,
told myself this was not a dream.
They all pressed in, wanted to know
where I had gone and what I saw,
but just then the MPs broke in,
shouting,”Stop! You’re breaking the law!”
The military was not pleased
we’d experimented on men,
the ringleaders were arrested,
all our machines taken, and then
They just turned and let me go free,
I wasn’t one of the top minds,
I tried to tell them what I saw,
but they laughed, did not have the time.
I reach out to the astronomers,
said to look for a meteor group,
few took my words seriously,
I’ve not heard back from those who do.
Leaving me stuck with cold knowledge,
a Cassandra none care to hear,
I keep saying when doom will come,
as mad as that makes me appear.
So I’ve changed fields to robots,
work longer hours than anyone,
so our unexpected saviors
will be ready when the day comes.
Handsome guy of the Hippie Era,
the wisest guy who never experimented with drugs,
but went to church on Sunday and prayed to God;
eccentric clothes, long hair and drugs were too crazy
to be explored, to block out the horrendous images
of the Vietnam War that troubled him at every
unpleasant, waking hour to make hope an enduring value...
as unquestionable as his verbal wisdom;
while considering an end to all violent deaths
that killed the vibrant youths: the very heart of America!
The rebellious hippies protested,
against their Government,
confounding injustice and lies:
to provoke a congenial state of disharmony;
they confused peace with war-fare, standing by,
and letting their brothers die...
instead of lending a hand:
injustice or not they continued in their unsocial conduct!
I didn't mind singing songs of peace,
in my fair but opposing views,
light a candle on the steps of a cathedral;
and they surely brought comfort to mothers in pain,
and through tense emotions,
I didn't speak offensive words and rebelled!
I made my statements of disapproval and disdain
for the bloodshed and lost lives of young Americans...
those lives not saved by a courage so invincible,
but rage brings unbearable resentment
and indefinite frustration on oneself...
if it becomes unreasonable and unsubstantial!
That Hippie Era is far gone into a past subdued by defeat,
and scorn was brought upon a President who allowed this;
but power and truth,sometimes, collide
and we can be too judgmental and unfair:
missing the substance of the true matter...
when exposing somebody's faults instead of our own!
Handsome guy of the Hippie era, so good-natured and lovable,
you are getting old and wrinkled, but glad to have been
that lucky to have shown compassion and peaceful intentions;
your sadness was held in a memory so undeniably feeble...
reduced to nothingness: when bravery didn't redound to the credits
of every soldier who longed for that home-coming victory!
Let me tell you a story ...
The story of Wolverine is so vast that I would need much more space,
though, I will tell you what I have gathered about this man;
he was born in Alberta, Canada in 1832 and named James Howlett,
but, he is really a fictional character of Marvel Comics.
Marvel created a mutant human with superior animal-keen senses,
enhanced physical capabilities and healing regeneration;
and three huge retractable claws and each hand- a ferocious force,
though, he had a brooding nature ... a loner with a temper.
He was born to rich farmers but found out his mother had an affair,
and he was the result- he kills his father and runs away;
ending up mining in the Yukon and changes his name to Logan,
he accidently kills his girlfriend and flees to the wilderness.
There he lives with wolves until he is captured and put in a circus,
he escapes and lives with the Blackfoot people of Canada;
in time, joining the military- held captive and experimented on,
becoming an agent trained by the Canadian government.
But he is unstable, his past murky, and he is difficult to control,
he appears in countless comics, either solo, or with X Men;
X Force, Alpha Flight, Fantastic Four, Avengers and many more,
sadly, he does die from suffocation by a horrible potion.
The potion is a hardening adamantion created by a Dr. Cornellius
Wolverine, Logan, James Howlett dies- kneeling in the sunset;
unknown to him he has a son that he never knew existed,
the son, becomes the new Wolverine of the Ultimate Universe.
Of course, comics tend to change the story ...
______________________
January 30, 2023
Poetry/Narrative/Wolverine
Copyright Protected, ID 01- 1522-182-30
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Marvel Superhero Or Supervillian
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 02/20/2023
First Place
soft
dew drops
quivering
on lotus leaves
lithe jui flowers sprawled
white orange-hued buds
clouds glide tangerine sky
koels croon symphony
mehndi bushes
faint fragrant
birds soar
free
Written on August 9, 2021
Note: Experimented with this descriptive verse of two stanzas - starts with one word, one syllable - goes up to six lines with six syllables (increasing syllables). Second stanza vice versa - begins with six, and it ends with one word, one syllable (decreasing).
FIRST PLACE
A Brian Strand 1 to 14 lines Poetry contest
This future that they see, it doesn’t belong to you and me.
Microchips and nanotechnology. Soon to be integrated ‘within’ you see!
Not by phone or virtual reality - soon to be experimented with on you and me!
What is it that makes us think we can improve on everything? Every aspect of our reality?
What if a part of the living brain won’t be too accepting of this augmented ’technology’?
What happens if it turns the light into dark? What other demons inside could it spark?
Soon you will witness as part of your progressive ‘reality’ a human evolution that definitely won’t be what they dream it will be - a human evolution that humans may not want to see!!
She is like rain, scattered drops but when it falls it's soothing.
She is like soil, so hard but keeps your soul holding.
She is like fire, which burns but turns you shining.
She is contentment, invisible but when in you is pleasing.
She is like nothing, when she is not you too are nothing.
She is constant, yet comes in goes out being in harmony.
She is convoluted, always formed deformed, evolving dissolving in symphony.
She is magical, appearing like wonder- blunder, ugly beauty diaphony.
She is science, as been experimented observed deduced in cosmogony.
She is eternal, around you, in you, is you, present-omni (XX/XY).
when everything everywhere
whispered in irresistible languages
hey you there
stop resisting
i began to surrender
was flowing free
burnt as bright sun
starlike spent explosive fuel
stretching
wings flapping
toward the unknowable
inside
experimented with ditching
body as identification
name as identification
personal history as identification
faded off
mad word searching
explaining justifying
reiterating too much information
i loosened my squeeze grip
on intellectualism
tell-me-how-to-be spiritual books
whatever the famous someone
said once then got bronzed over
i surrendered to universal unity
where i lavishly decorated
my living changing dream
with my own snap choices
what i wanted
i was flowing with fresh
synergetic synthesis
returned outside to pedestrian streets
where angelics mixed in
wore transparent disguises
i began to flow
forgiveness out and in
skipped a light fandango
splashing puddles was
answer to inclement weather
i set wooden faces
to smiling after
i switched my own
i rolled on through
perceived stop signs
of the everlasting no
erased all my karma with
nownownow
wonwonwon
made myself
stock still
experienced
yes yes yes
relaxed awareness
breathed
emptiness
opened all my hands
Michael Jackson understood the competition
Running to see what Prince would do next
This is what brought my attention to him.
His music hit my soul level and ran with it
There was a heartfelt love of the purity
And the sparkle of his words, and sounds
Prince and only Prince brought to the world in the 80’s.
Sounds no other artist had experimented with or thought of
I did not even know why I loved every one of his songs
But my heart leapt in a joyous way as I heard them
Because they were stolen from heaven, and I recognized them
On a soul level. There will never be another Prince.