Long Ferris wheel Poems
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Cruelest thoughts overwhelm
beyond the patrol
beyond the drowning sunlight
firelight creeping up my back,
grab your camera and attack
a moment that doesn't hear
the glowing blue
I should have kept in a faerie jar
ajar is my mind,
hinges broken, hinges built
100 years ago, the repairman's dead
like the postcard I still cherish
oh it has arrived uninvited again, this pain
this favorite feeling flowers
when the spoken dagger
lathered
in poisonous affection
takes the habitual plunge
into pulsing core, and oh
she cannot feel the swirling madness fought
no, that is the worst of it all, she knows not of this
chest clutched, scream schooner, a whirlwind
through every room
each white convulsing
red cherries in time
after Euphrates dries
and Hyde's head screws back on.
I am fine. Everything smiles.
Oozing cryptically, cryptic cryptic don't let them know
that beyond a year ago,
Into slow void, I challenge Time,
I challenge
the non-existent;
I challenge
myself,
and discover...
Don't go back to the fireless rooms?
The fireless rooms
were never places.
The fireless rooms
were never avoidable.
Forlorn freedoms flung farthest
feasting from fear-falling
feint faithfully; fictitiously.
In a lone, innocent desire, the perfect jazz song is playing
it is her favorite song
her unavoidable song on every playlist
as a hallow briar floats by,
knows why
and where
and who I truly am,
knows the buried youth,
and the noxious adult of hap.
I am swinging again. He is swinging again.
That youth,
that whippersnapper.
That fool.
Going too fast. Too fast for his Truth to catch up.
Agony! Laugh at me!
Dig those heals in, heels into the ground, digging
into that old world
of a hosted carnival
that kept the best parts of our personalities. Kept the parts
everyone loved the most
at the top of that ferris wheel,
ecstasy eyes embracing the stars
that would later become supernovas inside
black fire death-in-life,
a death of slow pain would be lovely
masochist!
if only I could hold death as a moment,
death it and then command death
sic death upon evil
and witness true happiness
for the entire world.
Death...
and slow will be...
my descent once again...
Inebriation.
To Sleep. To Machination. Avoid the void...
A love for the forbidden fruit.
There are visions roving inside my head
of a time and place where perhaps I once lived.
But how do I know of those worldly things
if I no longer exist? I must question if I ever did.
I am off kilter, as if I'm an invisible entity,
a salty speck of foam floating on a sapphire sea.
Should I feel dire despair, indifference, or jubilant joy
that I am not part of this place that's been laid to waste?
It's as if I'm surfing in shadows over what used to be
an amusement park, but the Ferris Wheel is broken,
and there's no spark of life anywhere to be found.
Only faded pamphlets lying on the ground, sun-bleached
remnants of the way life used to be, once upon a time.
I pity me for having been given this gloomy glimpse,
a vandalized view that no one could misconstrue.
I feel like Alice wandering through a frightening fantasy.
Desperately wanting to go back through the looking glass
and forget the devastation in which the world dwells.
If I ever had an inkling of what living in hell would be,
then in this chaotic clime, this dysfunctional dystopia,
I would seek to escape my existence and set myself free.
I feel the need for fresh air, but who would care
if I should have lived or died? No one cried tears for me.
What future fate have I discovered with thoughts
hovering? Tragic thoughts that haunt me like a cold stare.
What ill winds have swept the world away?
Cursed be!
How can anything exist is this sorrowful sepulcher?
I'd rather be a soulless specter without a home
then live among those in this lamenting land.
This is not Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.
It does no good to imagine a world without me.
Friendships made; children born; none of those would exist.
I can only envision these things. These things that I've given wing.
They roam inside my head, making me wonder if I had a beginning
or an end. I feel repercussions from having a discussion
with myself over the conceptual conundrum of my existence.
Would I have been happy, would I have made others happy,
or brought them grief like the thief who collects the dead?
It's a nightmare of reality, for I am sure it's not a daydream.
Greed played its Trump card and schemed to sit on the throne
in a kingdom I could never contentedly condone.
I've no desire to dally here a moment longer, and
since I don't exist, I am certain I will not be missed.
Can you hear the thumping, thump, thump of my heart beating away?
Can you hear my whispers of love in your ear,
as you sleep the night away in your bed, laying on the virgin white sheets,
tangled in blankets?
Can you hear me sing our favorite song, as you walk down the lonesome avenue?
Can you hear my soul, cry out for a warm embrace of your sweetest hugs?
Can you hear me cry out for a simple, loving kiss upon the lips?
I don't ask for much from you, my love.
All I ask you, is if you can hear me, and to see that you still believe in me,
and I haven't became a figment, a ghost in a scrapbook.
That I am still there with you, and not a picture of a memory collecting dust in a box.
I don't ask for much from you, my love.
I just want to know if you can still hear me, deep in your heart!
Don't forget about me.
Don't move to another, without first accepting that we had something beautiful.
Don't let me go off and vanish in vain.
Admit, you loved me, but you were afraid. Of What? I ask myself.
I don't know.
Can you feel me, touch you gently on the arm?
Can you feel my embrace, as you sit there crying on your bed,
crying to the pattern and rythmn of the rain tapping on the window pane?
Can you hear me, can you feel me? Do you even know that I'm here, with you?
Do you...?
Don't destroy something beautiful.
I love you.
I don't ask for much from you, My Love.
all I ask is that you remember.
You remember the laughs, the fun we had,
the long walks, and the long talks.
Remember the Ferris Wheel at the amusement park,
where we first kissed.
And shared our first corndog together,
and I won you that purple stuffed teddybear.
On cold nights, we'd cuddle together.
I'd write you love poems and we talk for hours about nonsense.
Remember, how you'd cry and I'd hold you, and kiss you upon your sweet head.
Remember, the nights we'd sleep together,
and the mornings we'd wake up together
with a smile and a morning kiss.
Do you remember, My Love, Do you?
Remember the good times, and don't get up and leave so quick.
To jump right into someone else's arms and forget all about me.
Can you feel the pain I have for you?
Can you feel the love I give to you?
Can you hear me sigh and cry, for one more night of love with you?
Can you...?
I don't ask for much from you, My Love.
All I ask is that you remember me,
For I still and will always remember you.
The Ferris wheel, a spoked and sputtering crown,
Pinned back the velvet dark. We paid our fee
In crumpled bills, bought passage to the town
Where gravity forgot to work its shift for me.
Neon stuttered sermons: "Try Your Luck!"
"See Freaks! Win Love!" The calliope’s thick breath,
A sticky-sweet confection, made us drunk
On promises spun sugar-brittle, sweet as death.
We traded common sense for ticket stubs,
Gulped down the chaos. Bumper cars collided
With jarring joy, released electric grubs
Of laughter down our spines, fear undecided
If it should stay or flee. The Tilt-A-Whirl
Unstitched the solid world, flung stars askew
In streaks of cheap chrome, made the pavement curl
Beneath our feet. I held tight onto you,
A fixed point in the whirling, painted blur.
The rifle range barked sharp, tin cans leapt high.
A sad-eyed bear, impossibly demur,
Watched from his perch where hopeful bullets die.
We shared spun sugar, ghosting on the air,
A sweetness gone before it reached the tongue,
Like fortunes told by Madame Zara’s stare
In smoky glass where futures, cheap, were hung.
The haunted house exhaled its chilly moan.
We walked through shrieks (machine-made, mostly sound),
Past rubber bats and bones of plastic thrown
To frighten children. On the trembling ground,
The roller coaster’s skeleton outlined
A shriek against the stars, a rattled breath
Of riders flung through space, ecstatically blind.
We felt its tremor, smelled its oil and death.
Then, sudden quiet by the carousel,
Its painted horses frozen mid-career,
Up, down, around, beneath a tarnished spell.
The music box wound down, the notes unclear,
Like childhood memories half-drowned in time.
The lights began to shutter, one by one.
The midway sighed. The air grew thick with grime
And spent excitement. All the magic, done.
We walked back through the gates, the real world vast
And strangely silent after all that din.
Holding the cheap prize that was meant to last,
A plastic star still glowing deep within
Its fragile shell – a captured, fading spark,
A testament to how we briefly flew
Above the ordinary, through the dark,
On borrowed light, just me and just... and you.
The carnival's clockwork heart beat slow, then ceased,
Leaving just echoes, ticket stubs, and peace.
Sleepy eyes awake to crashing sounds on window panes
Creeping animals scramble around bristling forests nesting for a spot
while thousands of mad ants crusade in barren fields storing food in tiny plots
Along the busy high way meandering trees parted wide asphalted roads
and thick wavering clouds peak above shrouded path waiting for it to start.
Countless loaded trucks speed down bending roads honking horns
forewarning oblivious travelers not to take a chance
In the center of town busy shoppers paraded the crowded plaza
Ignoring beckoning dark clouds pressing upon them from pregnant skies.
Laughing children swing high on Ferris wheels
grown men tossed up down expanded roller coasters
screaming out of control
amused with laughter.
Unforeseen the gigantic Ferris wheel halted
And a terrifying sound emerged from beneath
Stealing the happy children’s delightful laughter
thick black clouds overshadows
the sounds get louder and confusion drenches the streets
dust and debris flutter in the atmosphere
A thunderous sound spits venomous vengeance
whipping and lashing
whistling and barking
and maneuvers the busy town
it dances from city to city
Wrenching up a destined path
disseminating people all over the streets
But the terrified children grip tightly
Kept calm and ride out the raging storm
©2013 Christine Phillips
I was just a girl of six or seven,
Stubborn, wild, yet touched by heaven.
Mornings woke with fairs in bloom,
Joy would dance in every room.
Only from Nani’s hands I’d eat,
Her love was warm, her touch was sweet.
We'd stroll through lanes with hearts so light,
The world felt safe, the sky so bright.
But if she left for work someday,
I’d find her...quietly run away.
No one saw, no one knew,
But somehow, she’d smile...she always knew.
She’d say, “It’s dangerous, don’t come like this,”
Yet never scolded, just sealed with a kiss.
At fairs she’d buy me candy clouds,
And balloons that danced above the crowds.
For minimal effort I will never fell
Shhhh!! it’s the grandparents’ love spell
That raised my standards so high,
That now even angels can’t qualify.
The ferris wheel would rise and spin,
I’d wave at her with the widest grin.
From way up high, I’d shout her name,
As long as she was there...I feared no game.
And Nanu, soft and wise and kind,
With gentle hands and thoughtful mind.
He gave me sweets called ‘calcium pearls,’
To me, they were my secret swirls.
I’d sneak a few and hide my face,
He’d smile and pull me in embrace.
“Stealing’s bad,” he’d gently say,
“But listen close, my child, today…
Even Sudama bore life’s pain,
For tasting what wasn't his to claim.
But Krishna knew what hearts conceal
What’s truly yours will find you still.
"Then he would wink, a playful tease,
And hide the jar again with ease.”
He built me swings in backyard light,
Where dreams took off in fearless flight.
He caught me every time I fell,
His arms...a world, a sacred shell.
He brought me toys, and games to play,
And always let me go first each day.
We played on rooftops, cricket and cheer,
I’d never get out...not while he was near.
When things broke, and Mom would yell,
I’d run to them...my safest shell.
Beneath the bed or behind her shawl,
They’d guard my heart from every fall.
If I could wish for just one day,
I’d turn time’s wheel and run away
Back to the warmth of those wrinkled hands,
Back to the love that still withstands.
Back to a time so pure, so true,
Where everything felt bright and new.
Where nani smiled and nanu stayed,
And fears would always fade away.
“When centred presence, by employing free will, grants love consent
Resolutions we make, as prayers to the universe, reflect pure intent”
~ Quote by poet
_______________________________________________________
Being not a doer but a mere resonator, may this mind-body vessel be blessed by cognition spherical, suffused with blissful rapture, enhancing soul stature, nearer to the domain of God’s healing omnipresent light, pulsating within feeble form, through each day and night, with the voids propelling both polarities of sentience, illumined by God’s radiance and reflected by us in playful childlike innocence
We do nothing yet all the doings are done, thus may we in time stretched stillness, be with the That oneness one, moment by moment, all moments entwined, playing out our earth life role with zest and zeal as assigned, with nary a care, always self-aware, as a humble divine conduit, unwaveringly resolute, with each point of life’s Ferris wheel having equal appeal
Boundaries blur as in-form nodes stir and as of God’s will, all voids within fill and yet there remains ego residue, whose feral cravings from time to time renew, which our burning yearning, for with God’s light melding, spawns a seeking that ceasing to weigh and size, we completely vaporise, to the music of the spheres jive, here and now, vibrantly aglow and alive
Whilst all analysis is paralysis and musings of lower mind by divine assistance we leave behind, imbibing direct knowing by touch, by simply resonating with universal mind, free from ego bind, may the wisdom of the seers be ingrained and assimilated without fears, recognising by direct sight, the noumena birthing phenomena, in incessant motion, in a continuum of time and space dissolved meditation
Each soul journey unique and whilst God’s love employs no force, our heart as yet seeks that free will be illumined to always embark upon the right course, obviating need for repentance and remorse, as layer by layer, truth we discover, with the false falling away, upon which standing erect, we cease to sway, from vagaries of life immune, in joy singing and dancing to the divine sublime love tune
08-December-2021
FIVE NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
A serious question was posed to me recently.
Where do you go?
I said…
Well, I wait for the darkest, clearest night,
go to the highest point on the highest hill
and watch for the shooting stars.
And I make a wish.
…and I fly through the sky like an airplane
no, a bird, not just any bird, the Wandering Albatross,
I glide, for hours without the thought of touching the earth,
or even flapping my wings.
That’s just too much work.
…and sometimes I’m just
there…
…and I soak in the salty water of the Atlantic Ocean
waves of warm liquid rushing over me,
trying to pull me under the moistened sand.
Dead Crabs and broken shells at my feet…
…and sometimes I stay there…
…and I am a child at the fair,
the aroma of cotton candy and funnel cakes in the stagnant air
and I’m on the top of the Ferris Wheel observing the ants below.
…He’s watching me; he’s always watching me…
…and sometimes I’m there…
…and I’m running with Alice;
because this little white rabbit with a watch is apparently late for an important meeting;
and we’re like, “What’s the hurry, little rabbit?”
Rabbits don’t go to meetings… do they?
…but sometimes I don’t go anywhere…
…and there is this girl,
she smells like sugar, corn syrup, and sweetened milk,
warmed for four minutes and then cooled and wrapped in wax paper;
it’s Halloween and we’re teenagers… and that’s her favorite treat; and I’m awkward…
…and her voice is a song… and I’m stupid…
…and her hair is a soft fire… and I’m ugly…
I need her in my life... I mean, I did…
…but she’s gone now…
…she’s moved...on…
…away… from me…
…and I go to a place where I am an alien,
and the Martians ask me questions, like,
how are the hot dogs in New York City,
or is Chicago deep dish pizza to die for?
…have you ever had southern BBQ?
…and are earth girls really easy?
And we laugh… Yep… we laugh…
…me and the freaky alien voice in my head…
…so, I laugh daily and always let everyone know that, I’m okay…
Because…
Sometimes, I am there…
I mean … sometimes, that’s where I go…I go back there…
…I’m trying to grasp a hold, gain control over the fear, anger, self-hatred…
…gripping me in the places
…he wasn’t supposed to.
Eugene Finley
My voice
Alive with tone
Yet sharply censored
By a mind's take on years
Of historical notes
Tongue no longer sweetened
By optomism
Or spiced with
Mischievous humor
Suddenly all I taste is
So dry
So predictably dull
Night steps forward quickly
Like a woman whose
High heels carry her too loudly
Over hardwood floors
I hear her sharp
And definite approach
Darkness surrounds me
Like mink
Soft to the touch
But cruel in creation
I lay my head down
And begin to dream
My lonely place in the
Darkness opens
Like a curtain
To reveal a carnival scene
Where pale pink cotton candy
Weaves itself gracefully
Around paper cones
I taste the
Incredible sweetness
Its pure reminiscent aroma
So filling with the
Portrayal of childhood innocence
A time lost and
So light in texture
I draw the moment in deep
To remember it well
My grandmother is with me now
Baking her rhubarb pie
Picked fresh from the garden
I'm sitting at her table
A bright-yellow vinyl tablecloth
Neatly drapes itself around
Oval-shaped wood
Loud carnival music
Compliments my meal
I open my mouth wide
Grandmother, serving the perfect balance
Of sweet and spice,
Says softly
"Eat child...Eat"
And then walks away
Alone now
I see the faint outline
Of a crowd in the distance
Lining up to take their turn
On the Ferris Wheel
I'm driven to the
Perfectly straight horizon
Vividly painted beyond
And to them
A wise-cracking clown
Accompanies me
Telling off-color jokes
And showing me "the ropes"
On how to effectively
Cut in line
I see my lover
Jeans torn and hair
Perfectly backlit by
The midday sun
He is at the front of the line
He is waiting
For me
All those behind him now
Have grown impatient
After all
It's been
A very
Very
Long time
The clown presses my hand
Firmly to my lover's
Like a rose forever saved
Between brittle pages
And with a wink
Waves goodbye
The crowd is cheering now
As brightly-colored balloons
Lift up
Released
They have found
Their rightful place
In the sky
2.21
“I see no differences or separation
Even the multitudes appear
as a single formless desert
To what should I cling?”
2.22
“I am not the body
I do not have a body
I am Awareness, not a person
My thirst for life bound me
to a seeming of life”
As we make our daily entrée
In our seeing what do we see
Searching for happiness we sweat & toil
Yet each fleeting joy, suffering does foil
Comes a time we tire of chasing the rainbow
Looking within we truly wish to know
The realisation then is simply this
Divine love alone renews unending bliss
Rejecting then as unreal all forms fleeting
We embrace dynamic stillness as the Divine pulse beating
The One dividing Itself into two as Self & self
Love multiplying exponentially pouring Itself into itself
Everything energy and energy vibration
Doing nothing we ascend by simply being in resonation
In renewal of unending continuation
(19-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verse revisited on 24-October-2021
When we, this feeble mind-body entity
Exit stagnation, reclaiming tranquil serenity
Slowly, the false drops away, we cease to sway
We are ensconced in blissful rapture, night and day
Our hollowed out form becomes pure and empty
Magnetised by thunderous bliss in continuity
We slowly recognise interconnectedness
Knowing by grace underlying oneness
Here, within this reflected universe
Divine aligned, we sing the love verse
Identity vaporised, fears and desires cease
Devoid of attachments, we flow like the breeze
In but not of this world, as a beacon of love and light
We see everything through nonjudgmental sight
In childlike trust accepting life flow as it is
Aglow within the throbbing bliss fizz
We seek neither material nor ethereal
There is nothing here, save the divine miracle
Each coordinate of the Ferris wheel has equal appeal
Only that that does not come and go, being real
We play out our earth role in as ordained
Unfettered, unbound, soul unstained