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Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Healthy Politics, and Sex, and Religion

I hope I know what is healthy sex,
in an experiential kind of way,
in a biblical swell of stay,
and I can imagine a world with healthier,
more cooperative, political empowerment,
but I am clueless about healthy religion,
which most of my friends would claim is an oxymoron,
like military intelligence.

Well, I think it's easier to have any one of these,
if you already have the other two.

So, if I am feeling warmly resonant with my good vibe
positive political psychology
of ecologically cooperative relationships,
including those that are sexual,
now that I think about it
I'm not really sure what a sexless human relationship would be.
Maybe ambivalently androgynous,
but isn't that somehow the same thing as saying transgenderal,
and somehow that doesn't seem sexless at all.
what does all that have to do with healthy v pathological religion?

What makes sex and political relationships regenerative,
and sometimes, unfortunately, degenerative,
is also what makes religions syncretically regenerative
across all Earth's more celebratory ecosystems,
Creation Stories,
both Left-scientific languaged
and Right-artistic mythic,
divine as regenerative sacred inspiration
breathing through each moment and day
and night and death's last eternal expiration.

Breath memories are sequential
but also consequential,
and empathically cumulative entrusting 
religioning healthy politics 
of Earth's sexy sacred cooperative ecological economics.

You seem to see politics as the religious business of empowerment.

And disempowerment.

Yes, to control nutritional and pathological regenerative/degenerative trends
of multicultural and multigenerational contentment,
absence of suffering and ecological loss,
for you, a Taoist Christian Zen-Jew.

More typically comprehended 
as love ultimately comprehensive
within Judeo-Christian nurturing circles,
rather than demi-terrorists marching in Red Patriarchal Squares.

Yes, love takes a paternalistic-dominatrix tribal paranoid WinLose
Left turn 
in Mohammad's search for a more ecologically helpful Allah.

Love is synergy,
according to Bucky Fuller.

Yes, and consilience,
says E. O. Wilson,
over at Harvard
with that Positive Psychology clan
on the social science side of campus.

Syncretic and perennial philosophy,
for Alduous Huxley.

Yes, but why both?
Why not just syncretic, 
like integrity of Earth's ecological-nutritional values?

Perhaps because Huxley saw multicultural syncretism
as evolving polypathically and inclusively across time,
like the evolution of DNA's intelligence;
so perennial,
like the seasonal cycles of development,
mutually and perpetually enriching future generations
with further layers and networks of interdependently healthy
metaphysical paradigmatic ecosystemic integrity of co-gravitating
Creation-ReGeneration Stories, Aphorisms, Wisdom Literature.

The pre-millennial transliterations
of post-millennial (0)-ego-sum-invested ecologically EarthCentric Soul,
gifting cooperative-nurturing-nutritional resources and ecopolitical ownership forward,
to include WinWin choices only,
inclusive of all time, all generations of Golden Ruler ReGenerativists,
at least in our positive-nutritional, non-socio-ecopathological intent.

Sacred regenerations of incarnated Elder DNA 
sensory-nutritional-digestive ecopolitical climate-normed consumer balancing producer organic functions,
looking at 7-sacred generations forward
in Earth Tribe's multiculturally ecological 
Ego/Eco BiCameral TaoEconomics
of New PostMillennial PermaCultural 
Interior/Exterior EquiValent 
NotNot Zeroist 
PolyCulturally Climaxing Feminist EcoPolitical BodhiSattvas
and EcoNurturing Messiah Circles
and double-helixed fractal (0) sum zen-tao-bilateral spiraling temporal Yang/Yin mandala networks 
of cooperative DNA/RNA solidarity
climate and landscape health-regenerativity.

but I prefer Rabbi Heschel's
Wonder and Awe,
for all of the reweaving recreative regenerativity above,
whether sex, or politics, or religion,
and preferably all three,
for a really nice cooperative bicamerally balancing party
to be multiculturally held and had and owned
and consumed and produced
and empowered and disempowered
with ecologically optimal cooperative-politically regenerative Tradition/Story/Sonnets/Stars/Light/Sun/BiLateral DualDark Integral 4D RealPrimeTime Interdependence/(0)-Empty DiPolar
Black Hole

Oh, I get it,
like Teilhard de Chardin, right?

Well, yes,
left with right,
right both/anding wrong
health both/anding appositional pathological imbalances
of sexually cooperative ecopolitically reweaving metaphysical revolutions
of DNA/RNA (0) thermodynamic fractal-balanced octave-harmonic
light frequency reiterative
bicameral ego/eco-identity consciousness,
both (0)Mega-InterdependentYang and (0)Virgin-EmptyYin
coincidentally co-arising cognitive-affective
co-empathic trust,
rather than more LeftBrain Dominant
overly-competitive mutual ecopolitical mistrusts,
WinLose survival of the fittest evolutionary models
substituting for fully regenerative ecologically supported
cooperative power-with history
trumps monoculturing power-over competitive enculturing memory.

If no DNA,
then no sex,
no politics,
no religion,
no science.

If no light,
no DNA.

and if no yinyin as WinWin (0) square root 
dual dark Black Hole (0)Rigin,
then no Perennial (0)Mega Yang/Yin 
bicameral multicultural-regenerative balance.

well, don't hold your breath.

Right, right.
Gotta keep breathing together,
if nothing else.
Would help, though, 
I mean, you know, just as a post-millennial start,
to invest religious time as spiritual energy 
on planting trees and native grasses,
green organic root systemic Earth-nurturers,
cooperatively conjoined together,
where we now ballistically create deserts 
of starving soils and souls, 
too competitively anti-religioning not together.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details

Driving Alone Through the Sand Hills of Nebraska

My love is light (a fairy kiss?)          
               Like the pressure of sunbeams on your cheek, 
        Ineffable, and yet capable of changing lives…
		Darkening skin to a more attractive hue, 
		Pushing spaceships to distant stars (given time) , 
		Even causing cancer given sufficient lack of love for self.
        For love is not about just getting needs met by another, 
        No, love is more like a laser's coherent beam….
                For in reflecting back a portion of what is given, 
                The power of what is being created grows
                Until it can cut through the hardest steel
        And span the gulf between galaxies.

Poetry too grows through the cross-fertilization of newborn lines, 
        The lines of this poem insist that I record their birth.
 	        Each new line grabs me by the scruff of the neck, 
		       Forces me to hit the brake, grab my pen, 
		       And claim it in my family bible…
	        My only children, clamoring to be set in ink.
         As these Voyagers' pass into the present state of my art
                (Some that I barely recognize in their profligate parentage
	               Of older verse's new verse's newer verse still)          …
		               Somehow still carriers of my own genetic code.
                They press my design against the blank page
	                Flying in search of, homing on… your heart.
My love's intent is simply truth (do you want less?)          
	 Would you have me downplay 
	 	The warmth of our connection
                        Because it is complicated by here-to-fore
			        Unacknowledged passion, spiritual connection, 
			        And the remnants of former relationships
			        (Even those still gasping for breath) ? 
		        Or feign a lack of attachment to it's denouement
			         In a solitary attempt to feel safer? 
	 No matter can restrain the effects of gravity
		On the orbits of other bodies in its field of influence, 
		 	Gravity that binds us all in deep wells of space-time.

 Your kiss of greeting…
	After so many years of imagining such a possibility, 
	Imprinted deeper than even my memory of our first meeting, 
		Our moonlit shadows touching as we soaked naked
		In the steaming waters of a volcanic mountain spring.
	This new conjunction of souls occurred in God's clear view, 
		Without artifice or scheming on our part
			And rocked my inner core to it's depths, 
	Organizing molten currents of confused turbidity
	Into a magnetic flare of such intensity
		That iron flew to my spine
	Inspired me to finally declare my love
		To acknowledge your impact on my life…
	And after a period of gestation
		Gave birth to this poem of celebration.

 Back to Nebraskan reality and a new mystery…
	I pass an overturned car, 
		Its wheels tied by yellow police tape, 
	A metaphor for my life perhaps
		'Damaged but still salvageable.'
	The windows are broken out, 
		The occupants removed to a distant hospital somewhere
			(Hopefully arriving alive) , 
		Their odds and ends of life scattered like garbage
			On the inverted ceiling of their car.
	The explanation, perhaps, is the water still standing
		Several inches deep on the road side near the wreck? 
	A sudden orgasmic release of cloud in a desert….
		The car tops the hill to find the highway
			Buried by a lake of dimensions only God can know.
		Who would expect such a thing in Nebraska's sand hills? 

And what does it say about me finally
	That I am so drawn to distant objects, 
        That the two women given access to my heart are
		Both still tied to failed marriages
			By dark chapters I am not part of
			And innocent children who need their love? 
	And at our age where is the partner without a past? 

 Is this all that God has planned for you and me, 
	That we 'just miss' every thirty years or so? 
		I know there are times I am afraid to trust another's love, 
			Cannot even hear words of genuine affection.
		Perhaps this explains my attraction to women
			Whose availability might really be in question? 
		Maybe I'm afraid to let a real lover in? 
			Is the simple dream of love a better choice
				Than the chance of finding real love anew
				(Even love with an expiration date) ? 
		I think I'm more distrustful of my own heart's passion
			Than I am of women being unreceptive to my love.
		Do you struggle with similar feelings? 
	And is it my lot to only remember passion like this in a poem
		While you spiral away to unimagined rendezvous'? 

The coldness of space is not after-all
		The simple absence of heat…
	No, in human dimensionality it is more the absence of others…
		Others who both shine life force toward us
			And reflect our own light back to us, 
		Who collide with us physically and emotionally
			Altering our pathways forever, 
				And who crater the façade whose design
				We imagine belongs to us alone.
	The void of human space-time is a true 'black hole'
		Sporting only star death fragments of the 'Big Bang.'
This is all I really know…
	I treasure the memory of our 'fly-bys'
		Even if that's all they ever are.
	And if I'm lucky this joy, 
                This celebration of your existence, 
	Will continue to pour out of me in songs and verse…
		For your ears always (if I am so honored) , 
			For God's heart (as I was born to honor Him) , 
	And to the stars alone if I have only them for company.

Brian Johnston
August 2009
This poem, like 'A Walk Near Blunt, ' began during an actual drive from South 
Dakota to Oklahoma and then took on a life of it's own. These 'real life 
narrative' poems are part of an attempt on my part to give precedence to truth 
and content over form and rhyme. For readers with an interest in science, I 
hope you also enjoy my attempt in this and other poems to bring my love of 
Physics into the world of poetic imagery.

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details

The Truth Is Here Somewhere :2: Echo Poem

An Echo Poem

Original: If I Kissed It - Poem by Brian Johnston

If I kissed it, would that make it better? 
Are you needing much more than a friend? 
Would it help if I held you so deep in my love
That your 'breath fears' would fade in the end? 

Let me see the dark places you're hurting, 
'Lay on hands' where you feel there's a void, 
Whisper, 'Shh, ' to the sources of noise in your life, 
'Guard your back' as you work through annoyed! 

Or is booster shot all that is needed? 
Will your day be OK on your own? 
Are you looking to share a new friend that you've made, 
Me to ask 'How's your day? ' on the phone? 

All these things Love, are yours for the asking! 
Hidden things too, that I've yet to give, 
There's no firm expiration date that I control
Long as 'I'm on the street where you live! '

Glad to sacrifice life for love's meaning, 
If the purchase costs me only time, 
It seems you are the heart of the world's poetry, 
And the word I am hoping to rhyme.

When you're gone, I can get so impatient, 
It's like somehow life's rhythm is missed, 
If this simplest of verses can bring you some joy
Then smile twice, for you just have been kissed! 

Brian Johnston
March 1,2017

Lora Colon Echos My Poem: 

Who wouldn't enjoy being kissed, 
Or hearing loving words now and then? 
Only a fool would declare 'Not me, ' 
(I'm no fool - just say where and when) 

When all places hurt - dark and light - 
On the outside, in the heart and soul, 
What good are whispers and laying of hands, 
This despair is out of control 

But a booster shot does no good 
When love's hunger is out of control, 
It's fatal and beyond treatment 
When metastasized down to the soul 

Love should not have to be asked for 
But given as your heart overflows, 
Love doesn't expire, but stays ever fresh, 
And more beautiful as it grows 

Sometimes love involves sacrifice, 
It's good that you're aware of this, 
But neither prose nor poetry 
Is required to deliver a kiss! 

When you see what you want, go for it, 
Love doesn't stay too long in one place, 
You might bring flowers, then find no one's home, 
And you'll be left with egg on your face

Lora Colon

Brian Johnston Echos Lora's Echo

Let Go My Eggo! 
(A Backwards Approach To Your Echo) 
(No Problem!) 

When in fact, I am praying you roam,
I’ll be glad to find nobody home,
Although flowers are nice,
Sweetest bloom has a price,
Wish you sweetness from love’s honeycomb.

Any egg on my face [from your place]* I’ll hold dear,
Messy friendships still better than beer,
Though I know thoughts can kiss,
Lips are hard to dismiss,
Want you grinning from sweet ear to ear!

I think love that one asks for is better than none,
[Guys ARE slow!]* Even when you find giver’s less fun,
All too often the mothers spoil men,
Leaving lovers to take one on chin,
Our love training far worse than "girl" talk with a nun!

Booster shot means you've had one injection,
And can tolerate low-grade rejection,
Though all souls can be greedy,
With own levels of needy,
Feels like cancer? Just BAD EGG reaction? [Ha!]*

I don't mean here to pooh-pooh your pain,
All these years, still there's something to gain?
Could it be it’s a role?
That you might just control?
Why not shove the bum out of a plane?

With this poem, I’m calling your bluff,
Say you don’t want its KISS? Too bad! Tough!
If you’re playing it cool,
And can't stand being fool,
Then I’m happy to end this! Enough! [Ha!]*

Brian Johnston
March 3,2017

It's OK if you've no love for me! 
But great lovers accept what is free! 
And it's true no tie binds
That's not locked in our minds, 
So, of course, the world's full of debris! [Ha! ]*

Poet's Notes: 
*Any comments that you see in braces '[]' are printed in invisible ink. Please
ignore them for the sake of the poem! OK?

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Tom Arnone | Details


"I will continue to broadcast, as time and circumstance permit,
To whomever is receiving on the aforementioned frequency.
My name is Cor Nosduh. I am not infected. Over."
Yea, I thought, continue to broadcast until this massive, power-sucking,
5.1 Gigawatt (Or 97.1 dBW at maximum output) transmitter is dead....

There may yet be salvation coming, as the original premonition
Implied -- but, will it be enough and in time to effect a solution.
Halle is exhibiting symptoms; however, it is too early to distinguish them
From a common ailment and the SV virus. We are squatting at the
Zordos facility -- the most powerful radio array on the planet.

The desperate flocked to the call of this secret, northern sanctuary.
By the time Halle and I made the difficult trek, there was no one
Left alive. I thought we might be immune. Now, I'm not so certain.
The most baffling thing about SV is its lack of an origin point.
No ground zero individuals. Its effects felt worldwide, simultaneously.

The freezing temperatures kept the stench of death at a bare minimum;
Daily meteor and aurora displays filled me with both awe and foreboding.
Halle was feverish and aroused -- a possible (unthinkable) sign of SV:
Arousal to the point of mindless incoherence. Nonstop sexual activity to the
Point of fatal exhaustion and/or cardiac arrest -- not excluding kin.

Somehow, the virus was producing huge amounts of adrenaline and dopamine,
Causing an endless, progressive succession of physical stimulation and reward.
If it didn't take the form of sexuality, it manifested in anger and lethal violence.
Expiration followed swiftly. SV proved invulnerable to all known biological agents.
Halle and I have been lucky. I cannot ... I refuse to continue if she should turn....

The station was set to transmit on the AM band at 700 KHz. While I was
A decent IT guy, I knew practically nothing about commercial radio. I didn't know
How or even if I could receive a signal. In any event, I continued the prerecorded
Call to sanctuary and my own personal broadcasts. Thankfully, Halle is much better
And, I think, not infected. It’s been a month since we last saw a living thing....

God. If the power should fail, we would be finished. The station's kitchen was
Stocked with edible food and drink. Halle and I had a quiet dinner. She was so
Pale and weak. Before SV, there was a little girl in the news who began making
Incredibly accurate predictions and premonitions regarding the future. Of course,
The most outrageous being the total destruction of all life on the planet.

Most forgot her strange premonitions when the virus began its cycle of killing.
I did not. And, as unlikely as it may seem, I think I've figured out the origin of SV.
With Halle safe and fast asleep, I began to explore further outside the sanctuary.
On a recent expedition, I collected several, still-warm meteor fragments for
Study and later examination. That night, I had a eureka, epiphany moment....

"Perhaps, I'm losing my mind. Yes, an unbelievable story: The premonition of
Annihilation; the simultaneous SV infections and meteor bombardments; these
Eerie, green-glowing rocks; the invulnerability of the virus -- and, a much earlier
Premonition, in the form of a children's story, of a savior from a doomed world,
Orbiting a super-massive red star. Perhaps, he'll come to this world. Over."

My darling Halle is starry-eyed -- and, perhaps, a little too excited....

August 30, 2016

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by John Wilowski | Details


Have you ever found yourself stranded in the tract
between what you think is fiction and what you think is fact?
And whipped so hard with the bible belt, your minds a welt of doubt
throbbing in confusion as you try to sort things out?
Do you ever look for answers that you hope to find
will quell the inquisitions raging in your mind?
I once made confirmation in a little church somewhere
down around salvation row as the preacher there
led the congregation in Armageddon prayer.

He stood upon the altar and clutched a sacred script
that he held so reverently in his fervent grip.
And with celestial sanctity dilating in his eyes
he opened to the book of holy genocide.
It was revelations where he fingered out a verse
for his heaven chambered thoughts targeted to earth.
Then in a heated passion a searing sermon flared
with words of burning prophecy flaming through the air,
he led the congregation in Armageddon prayer.

Posted in the steeple was a sentry priest
who was scanning the horizon far off to the east
for the second coming of his commander in chief.
Baptized into prophecy he was dripping with belief
there must be devastating war, misery and grief.
Then saluting with his crucifix, held as if a sword,
he vowed to carry out the dictates of his lord:
to crusade off to martyrdom and be canonized somewhere
with the congregation in Armageddon prayer

Rigid in demeanor, with a stopwatch in his lap,
teeth clenched in resentment till enamel cracked,
sat a now obscure preacher who once predicted that
the world was soon to end in a fission thunderclap.
But his career imploded when the ticking tocked
past the point of expiration set on his atomic clock.
Now fused to disappointment he radiated glares
at the preacher in the pulpit, who orchestrating there,
led the congregation in Armageddon prayer.

Wearing silver spurs and a frock with riding whip
a deacon understudy was biting thru his lip
serving out the term of his apprenticeship.
He dreams one day of riding, bible slung onto his hip,
with the hallowed horsemen of the Apocalypse.
He plans to round up all the strays, corral them in a herd,
then brand each and everyone with the sacred words
that he’ll burn into their consciousness with exacting care
as he leads the congregation in Armageddon prayer

Now, I swear there is a paradise right in your backyard,
slightly out of ear shot of the word of God.
You will hear the laughter that little lungs bellow
just from the way the grass feels between their tiny toes.
It’s a place where they can play catch the butterfly
and look for shooting stars to streak across their eyes.
It’s the world of innocence, mostly children living there,
in extroverted wonderment completely unaware
the faithful have included them in Armageddon prayer.

To what level of insanity is it, some men will attest, 
to think that their lives are somehow to be blessed
as promises of war, famine, pestilence and death
come leaping from the pages of some ancient text
to descend down upon him as he humbly genuflects?
To what level of belief, is it, that a faith expects
for a man to summon, with his salvation breath,
some prophetic beast belching havoc and despair
to join the congregation in Armageddon prayer?

Copyright © John Wilowski | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Why Kites Fly

Fear and violence and guilty judgment
display synaptically sharp,
competing "Loser!" skittish economies.
Love and active peace sustain buoyance,
robustly revolving away
from red skies of mourning;
cooperatively mutual Win-Win
ecology of evolution.

I want so badly to fly my competing belief kites,
and faith,
for my string to remain confidently taut,
vibrantly humming and singing my self-righteousness,
intrinsic value and merit,
for my eisegesis to transcend up and out
catching our multi-cultural wind,
decomposing old ways of competing
as we bow to my better judgment,
declaring my Orthodox wisdom kite
the Winner!

your kite won't fly this way,
or hasn't after all these frustrating
lean growing years of learning our faith
in competing paradigms,
where one must be more right,
the best kite,
but really not just the best,
because we would each love to obliterate
all inkiting competition.
Our ego-cycling judgment
reads and studies why each must be elite
to lead losers behind.

Meanwhile, some of us are relearning,
reweaving kites flying best together
like wedges of geese
balanced and resiliently squawking
our glad tidings,
"It's warmer south,
and colder north,
and vice versa,
depending on which habitual hemisphere
you dominantly favor."
Together we catch post-millennial wind
to soar our joyously cooperating kites
in Golden self-regenerative atmosphere of inclusive grace.

If my eisegetical kite won't fly right,
if my EarthTribe can't hear or understand
or care about what I have to proclaim,
I listen deeper
to find how high
my kite might float
in richer racing flowstreams,
as positive deviant diversity
among mutually mentoring companions,
quacking our coincidental ecologic.
We find each Other's incarnated contours,
merging one breath,
two resonant heartbeat kites,
then three....

Then rise to fly apart.

Floating back,
sustain mutual listening,
sync-rhythmic vibrant revolution
spiraling up and away,
soaring eastern harmonies,
dancing inkited incarnate breeze.
Left-Right well-bowed bicameral sparring confluence
balancing peace
toward mutual gratitude,
centering mindfulness soaring regeneratively up
reducing tipping-tail dissonance and stress,
waving down and up
in and out
back and forth to smile warm namaste.

Leaning left proposes inspiration,
flexing right disposes expiration,
together swelling prime (0) spinal soul,
our permacultural kite-fly system
fractally equivalent decomposing,
air-born swimming,
interdependent open windowed balance,
which was our Original Intent,
to reach up toward bicameral balancing flight,
as Left breathes in
Right breathes back out regifting Earth,
positively praying revolution's gratitude.

Breathing out what you breathe in,
breathing in what you breath out,
inspiring information,
expiring exformation,
my Yang inhale our Yin exhale,
my Yin exhale our Yang inhale,
balancing (0)-sum ecologic stress,
flying our long-taled inter-nesting kite.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by concetta hardnett | Details

find the time

                  "Find the time"

(Verse 1)
24 hours in a day
Lets try and divide it(divide it)
Can give everything  your time 
But when it comes to God you try and hide it (hide it)
Thinking you can do things on your own
In the end its proven wrong 
365 days in a year
The majority of them we live in fear 
We living in the last days times are near
Gotta get it together 
Before it's to late(to late)
Dont want to get rejected at the gates(the gates)
Cant turn everything into a mistake
One day everything will be fine 
But in the meanwhile i got to find the time 

Find the time 
Before it's up(before its up)
Been through alot
But cant get stuck(get stuck)
Know that i can do it
As long as jesus help see me through it (through it)
Soon all we be gone
I want to reside at the throne
That is my permanent home (home)
Gotta find the time 
To pray And know that it will be ok
Gotta find the time 
Before its to late 
Because in the end i want to get through those gates 

(Verse 2)
Everytime you see another day
Its a blessing(blessing)
Things could be worse 
Lets stop stressing (stressing)
If we spend the time thanking him for what he seen us through
Our spirit and mind 
Would be so renewed(so renewed)
Pick your problems 
Forward them high in the air
I cant do it by myself (myself)
When i realized that 
I finally picked up the bible
Everything in there is tips for survival
Thank you 
Also he speaks on his arrival
Time to make a change 
Even when things are so insane
Get it right
Just because you here right now
Don't mean you'll make it through the night
But if you shall do
Make it another day
Look up to the Father and say
Thank you 
In life you cant always rewind 
Thats why i got to find the time 

Find the time 
Before it's up(before its up)
Been through alot
But cant get stuck(get stuck)
Know that i can do it
As long as jesus help see me through it (through it)
Soon all we be gone
I want to reside at the throne
That is my permanent home (home)
Gotta find the time 
To pray And know that it will be ok
Gotta find the time 
Before its to late 
Because in the end i want to get through those gates 

Its time(time)
To find 
The time(the time)
Everyone has an expiration (yes we do)
This is not my final destination (nooooo)
This will also past 
Trouble dont last 
The clock will keep on ticking
And God is still forgiving 
Even those who are wrong 
To him is where we belong(belong)
I can't find the words to define
Thats why with him we got to find the time 

Find the time 
Before it's up(before its up)
Been through alot
But cant get stuck(get stuck)
Know that i can do it
As long as jesus help see me through it (through it)
Soon all we be gone
I want to reside at the throne
That is my permanent home (home)
Gotta find the time 
To pray And know that it will be ok
Gotta find the time 
Before its to late 
Because in the end i want to get through those gates 

Repeat until chorus fades
Written by: Concetta Hardnett

Copyright © concetta hardnett | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Jenny Monteverdi | Details

A Tribute to Our Lion's Roar

This is the story about the man who sought refuge in my heart
His glance told stories
It sang songs, reviving and pioneering all at the same time 
His melody was beauty and foreign, a vacation I never wanted to leave
He had a touch made out of deliberation and intention that always left me disoriented
His kiss was a wild fire that never knew when to stop
It was force, incomparable and thought breaking all by itself 
And he held a magnetism that drew strength from the current that dances just under the ocean's waves,
leaving me no other choice but to love him unconditionally

He was my lantern light of reunification and self-exploration,
shining the light through some of the unsuspecting jungles of young adulthood
His childlike soul had its own rhythm that moved the hips and the feet and the heads of everyone who heard it
And it heartened those parts of myself that had forgotten their own fluidity 
His trust in love and faith in how the world works illuminated my shadowy corners of doubt
He was confidence and ease, and contagious enough to spread through me in everything I did
Regardless of our needlepointed nightmare, he was 13 shades of a chivalry that I never knew before
And on those icy, secretive winter nights, he was a warrior made up of the type of magic that has no limits 
He became home

Our sacred language was only being taste tested before the old love we used to share came to interrupt the noise
She lived in the fabric of the rays of the sun and your best childhood memory,
Made inside the Devil's handshake, she only knew how to take
Her persuasion was more than just a one night stand, creating an epidemic of need that echoed through forever
She was freedom, allurement, destruction, potency, and like his kiss, she was something to crave
Her force was effortless and depriving, taking the breath of anyone who stood too close
Her name was Crystal and she was everything I can never be
We became a whirlwind of explanations and ultimatums, cradling a love past its expiration date 
And I learned a new jargon, one rooted in mistrust that either took us around or away

Our potential has become elusive like an iridescent sheen that's only captured in some lights
Nostalgia has replaced our nomadic circus of impracticality and second chances
And left an ache that has no name
Some days, when stillness whispers too long, my restless thoughts play tug of war with all the things we can't reclaim
and on those days, his absence rushes through me and I can feel the unrelenting rapids of habit pull me all over again
Tamed to fit in that space between love and logic, he's my firefly of familiarity and reluctance
Our love sleeps in a box wrapped in honor and pride, protected from manipulation, instigation, and resentment
And when the sun kisses the earth goodnight, forgiving all the unlit pockets of the city
Our lions quiet their roar

Copyright © Jenny Monteverdi | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Galeo DS | Details


( Poet Destroyer-our dearest PD) Loveliest and greatest poet, sis and friend of mine in poetry site, Loved so much by everybody, I’m shouting this with all my might; Let’s make October 7 a very special day again for her this year, Let this poem of mine heralds the biggest party, I loudly cheer! In this home and family of ours, now extended… big and so happy, If she isn’t around, everybody is lonely without her and her stellar poetry, I’m making this day the most memorable and happiest moment as can be, In this world, she’s one of our most precious gifts from God, the Almighty. North to east, east to west- -in both primary and secondary directions, Never miss this moment… let’s all dance and sing in her grand celebration, Now sending all my loving wishes as she blows out candles on her birthday cake, Never fading love, joy, health, blessings and more best wishes, she’ll take. Dearest sis, friend of mine and greatest poet of everybody, Day ‘til night… every moment I whisper special prayers for you so dearly; Drop all your loneliness and keep in mind that everybody cares so much and love, Dream of yours will be fulfilled for I know you’re blessed from above. An exceptional poet who never ceases to amaze us, A unicorn lover dazzling us with her unique and stupendous writes; A queen and muse of both poets and Librans, so brilliant and so smart, A very beautiful celebrity deserving great adulation, here’s our huge sweetest hugs. Sept. 22, 2013 7.15pm HER BIRTHDAY: OCTOBER 7, 2013 (Now, Monday here & Tuesday in US)
HAVE A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAREST POET SIS & FRIEND LINDA. I LOVINGLY WISH YOU ALL THE HAPPINESS, GRACES, BLESSINGS , GOOD HEALTH, GOOD LUCK & PROSPERITY AND ALL THE BEST THINGS IN THIS WORLD THAT LIFE EVERYHOLD TODAY AND THE YEARS TO COME! MAY ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! GOD BLESS YOU AND YOUR FAMILY/ LOVE ONES! Notes: 1. This birthday poem was posted ahead of time on my special blog for our very dear Linda because I was worried that I can't post a blog anymore due to the expiration of my pm before her b-dday. I supposed to post both this poem & the blog on the 7th. 2. The above special birthday poem is called ACQUAINT FORM/Leo form. ;)))))An acquaint form is my newly experimented form of poem combining 3 forms: an acrostic, quatrain form ( stanza with 4 lines) and a quintain english ( with rhyme having no set of measures or foot) ;))))))). Proven & tested to be one special form in my mini-poetry lab.;))) This is my give- away sharing to u for enjoying my birthday poem & special blog for her & also for your greetings to all Librans. I hope you will enjoy! Thank you so much! First Place Contest: Birthday Girl Judged: 10/7/2013 Sponsor: My greatest poet, PD

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Diana Vee | Details

The Symptoms of Love

These are the symptoms of falling in love
Cant control it it comes from above
NO remedy no treatment and no cure 
Just sit back & prepare for what's in store
it starts off suddenly than quickly spreads
first symptom cant get you out of my head
Where did I get this & how did it start?
before you know it it takes hold of your heart
 I fell it in my whole body down to my toes
there's no pain involved It feels wonderful 
and the deep feelings continue to grow
It works its way up and invades your mind
we went from 0 to 60 in record time!
it travels with such force and speed
your all I want & so desperately NEED
how did this happen?
 I wasn't prepared to feel this way
yet it continues on its path 
feelings grow with each passing day
this happiness  spreads its faster than most
careful with these deep feelings 
I don't want to over dose!
Is it possible to have to much of a good thing?
I gave up on believing in miracles 
and than  suddenly YOU walked in
Its all over me there's nothing to do
no sense fighting this feeling 
I have to be near you
This connection is powerful 
SO strong it has to be fate
My Love for you has no expiration date
I try reach the doctor finally I get through
he tells me the recommended treatment 
It's right there in front of YOU!
Follow the directions don't take more than directed
Your life is going to change for the better 
Soon you BOTH will be infected
Don't you worry it wont hurt a bit
Slowly you will feel this is the one your SUPPOSE to be with
I try to to ask him what can I do is there something I can take?
He smiles and says you cant fight the power of fate
Do you know how many people wish they could bottle what we have here?
Travel this journey together there's nothing to fear
Go with the vibe you had from the start
and when the feelings over come you 
Remember to go with whats in your heart
Make sure you finish all treatments you don't have to rush
You will do fine as the "We" becomes "US"
This symptoms don't come along to often in life
Appreciate & respect each other and you'll be alright
This condition is something so deep and so rare 
You make sure you handle one anothers   heart with care
The side effects could be so powerful its more than some can take
A lifetime of contentment & no more heart ache
Remember this condition only happens to the lucky one
Appreciate how lucky you are and remember to have fun!
If you do all of these things you will have a lifetime of love
And don't forget to say 
Thank You to the man up above

Copyright © Diana Vee | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems