Long Furthered Poems
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Stuff your rock stars, your heros, your christs,
your anti-christs and anarchiests.
Stuff your false idols up your ****.
Stuff your regenerative ramblings;
the spiel of a million others
spilt in diluted misunderstanding.
The generic rhetoric of another blank generation.
Born under the yoke of fashion not fascism
we walk a happy middle ground smiling contentedly.
Raised, sightless, in the sickly glow
of TV screens and neon lights.
Suckled by the fast food empires
and the bloodied abattoir's's carcasses.
Supping the milk of human blindness
with the blood of fallen beasts.
Schooled in paranoia and conformity
through magazines and film.
Body over brain! Body over brain!
Don't feed either if you want to fit in
to society or size sixteen jeans.
Passive skeletal expectancies rule over all.
We are over-looked and yet watched over;
Monitored through cameras and stolen information,
watched on screens by perverts and bigots
watched for signs of difference and dissent:
word gets around and gets arrested.
Incarcerated. Gone inside. Turned inside out.
I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers.
Spayed to the point of mental impotence:
no longer threatening. Hope is dead.
Driven as slaves into factories, offices, banks,
working to gain enough to "buy" what is already ours:
ownership as proof of existence.
I consume therefore I am.
Ownership of possessions and of people.
Taught to repress desire, to plough the rut of our parents.
Mate Spawn and Die.
Breeders laugh in mock pleasure behind picket fences.
There is safety for us all in our collective clichés.
The pursuit of pleasure becomes confused
through labour and labour saving devices
then drowned in alcohol and soap.
Happiness becomes vague comfort and escape:
Ignorance is bliss and bliss is easy.
Pre-packaged rebellion under state supervision
rattling shackles and throwing toys from prams.
Socilalists singing sweet songs of false hopes
an alternative repressive ownership,
punks so bereft of individuality repeat to infinity
even the intelligent ones just want to be another dick.
All grow old and sick together
having furthered the species and the empire,
return to the organic matter from whence we came
or perhaps ground up and fed to the pork and beef
down at Old (Ronald) McDonald's farm that we all love so much........stuffed
Form:
Another Saturday of middle men gathers, save one, be another weekend passes, mumbling about, till I spoke out, forgive me, this be the truth of it.
'Tis but a few words, that I lent to friends ears, a course set to change,
for heard they, of a raw web unspun, perchance 'tis innocence had a part of it.
Furthered loan lobes, of fate's mired pace, that weld's their chest so tight,
it held the breadth of them, a chance to swim in its currents of a tenuous life.
A friend astrayed, from our prearranged meets of jovial matter, 'tis cavorting,
leads to a quietude, a disturbing view of jaws, 'twas given a shot of novocaine.
Reveal I to them, of a sacred trust, known only to me, and now our friends,
as a harp strums an unsung tune, strands of arrows tender points, prepares.
A test on a piece of paper, whose strength enough to shred an unstable heart,
and bring a man of untold years, of the worth that remains--a small sum it be.
No tear was spared on a solid face, that offers free slides of it, to yon floor,
pooling whispers of ancient values that will spirit a hospital room's brief use.
Sounds of car doors, engine revs, as the voice of gps's unattainable reach,
of heartbeat's ascent,'tis be a final race, rally they must, for the one of them.
A room of jovialness spreads, cavorting returns to normalcy, dry eyes rounds,
yet I see the truth of it, for they drown in tear-filled dams of fortuitous eyelids, all.
*October of last year, its earlier half, my colonoscopy test result reveals one polyp, and during the interim of its results, our friend passes away. A day before the funeral, a prerecorded message states it was benign. All of us had ourselves checked out. I suppose, my words suffices a small tribute to his memory, yet, he's not being forgotten by his friends for the many Saturday's that has passed. *This is for you buddy.
Date: 05/30/2019
**Re-edited**Date: 06/01/2019
My Beloved Flowers***
Those flames of orange marigolds;
Proudly bloomed golden sunflowers;
Perky pink asters;
Lavender, draping-petaled petunias; and
Deeply velvet, dainty violets
In my cherished photo, showing
Them arranged for my admiration…
Those were the last flowers I was able to grow,
As I collected their blossoms before
The first frost two years ago and how
Afterwards, my poor health
Prevented my gardening anymore.
But, now I will stare long, and often refer
To the photo of those flowers,
Even putting their colorful faces into
Paintings on fine papers.
Imagine, too — what must be due to the inner-
Staying of some childhood
Innocence —
Smiling, I confess I wonder
(just as I do about my favorite trees)
If the flowers sense my
Caring, or know at all
That I am a friend?
Do flowers take their flourish on to heaven?
Too, does their
Presence there present
To God a praising beauty?
And, might any of their
Furthered energy be
Gifted back to us?
Silence. I do not
Expect they speak
…yet, my heart keeps on
Trying this reach…
I dare not guess about
The infinite dimensions
Of God-created Love…
Nor do I know of the many ways
Death was conquered.
I also have
A single, yellow rose
I got at 16
From my brother to bless my ballet recital,
Which I kept and pressed
To hold for life…
My beloved flowers now
Grow on in a poem,
Where revitalized in words,
They may rise
To meet other caring eyes.
———————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 10/10/21
Thanks be to God
***NOTE: please don’t read this piece literally. I know the Bible says nothing about dead plants. As a poet, I wonder & ask ?’s. Oh, surely, God & heaven are open to imagination, even more so than our hearts.
As i look back on that Summers day in August 44
Soon to be transported back to Normandy's bloodied shores
I know i will be leaving, the girl of my dreams
Face to face as we say our goodbye's and tears like loving streams
The day that we first met on that polished pebbled beach
Her flowing blond hair and eyes of blue and complexion of ripened peach
The backdrop of the waves as they echoed within my heart
Rippling undulations, impart
On a tartan blanket she lay whilst her siblings threw skipping stones
Momentary our eyes were captured, two souls on a beach unknown
As we furthered investigation, with glances of blush and stare
This blond and the entranced soldier, now becoming aware
Just as we finished glancing, to the waters edge we look
Her sister of five years old, was caught in wave surge soak
My training instincts show as i react to this little girl
Inhibitions drain from my heart, postponing my previous swirl
On this polished pebbled beach, a young life's barely begun
Nearly taken from a family rich, on a sands where there was no gun
I step back from the tartan and reflect on my tomorrows
Not knowing what i walk into, to visualise hidden sorrows
A changing surrounds us, where two were in captured glance
Turning to this unknown soldier, and smiles with grateful please
She flutters her eyelashes like butterfly wings
With the grace of a Summers breeze
We gather our thoughts as we look back at the stones
Where living can succumb to our future and die all alone
I survived the war, fortunate to return home
As i think of my colleagues, who will out there forever roam
We swam that day
morning light invite to that shore
Jumping, crashing, waves were smashing
engulfing us as we played
Shore line furthered
Suddenly further, undertow carried
carried me away
The waves, the current
I their victim
took me deeper still
Overhead crashing, smashing
waves they crushed my chest
Defiantly fighting, swam strokes fighting
Fighting til my last breath
These limbs nine years young
So young I was to fear
fear for life shortly lived
The strength to fight
slowly escaped my limbs
The light on surface fades so fast
faster still it fades
sinking down the light it goes
it goes so far away
Drifting as the air escapes
a halo of bubbles rising
spherical symbols of my life leaving
leaving, rising away
Darkness swept my mind
hope was darker still
still my limbs were, floating
fighting no more, sinking
The surface... my mind... hope
faded to darkness
And then it was dark...
peacefulness came, I saw no light
saw no light....I was consigned...
...peacefully consigned to die
Murmured voices calling, saying
saying things too distant to hear
hearing voices, calling from further
further than I could hear
They drew closer, the voices closer
My mind drew closer to clear
I felt the wind touch my skin
Floating now, coughing
coughing, expelling sea
reclaiming the breath
breath that ran from me
............................................................
Do I remember that day? Of course.
We swam that day
Form:
A deserted Victorian house stood off the county road just a little way.
To keep apace of living I rushed by it most every day.
For years I'd wanted to visit there to see what secrets it held,
And perhaps find out about the folks who in it had once dwelled.
Massive oaks stood erectly as if to guard the old place;
Clinging vines held weathered clapboards in precarious embrace.
I mused as I opened the latch on the sagging garden gate,
"Why was it forsaken and left in such a forlorn state?"
The front door was slightly ajar so I entered with pounding heart.
As I sauntered down the dusty hall I was brought up short with a start!
The door slowly closed to the sound of screechy hinges and slammed locked!
I tried to exit the house but all the doors and windows were tightly blocked!
The old house groaned and sepulchral voices were heard from within!
I ran from room to room stumbling over moldy furniture to avoid the din!
Suddenly, the old pump organ in the parlor began playing a haunting dirge!
Macabre figures in funereal dress began to dance and mysteriously emerge!
Squeaky floors, spider webs and flying bats furthered the home's decay.
There was the stench of death about the place that haunts me to this day!
I snatched a poker from the hearth and broke a window to flee the place!
My curiosity about the house was more than sated as from there I did race!
Entry for Dear Hearts' "The Haunted House" Contest
(13 August 2018)
*Image of The Old Shed by Pixabay.
Still Here
He was the tourist trade foremost embellisher,
his Aloha shirts receptive then, and
now respecting a closet.
Regale lava-covered isles, swathed in white flags,
succumbed to skyscrapers,
and tremendous crowds.
His chord, an isolated tool, tranced the sways,
encased uke leans on clutter,
a harmonica tags the bestilled.
A kid drilled, backs out a Chevy, to looks of relief.
Rusty toolbox by a heap,
chanced ferns sprouting rights.
On a mat with a bloody nose head back, learns to block,
gloves on a wall...glad to know how to defend,
and glad to have the seldom use of it.
Handheld twirling blade lawnmower, a sickle, and rake.
An old tool shed, shelved three wood handles
minus their mettle, as well as their mentor.
You paid a buck for our house...realtor extraordinaire,
and mom's limited knowledge about land, you
left her the trust and deeds~you both left me.
It has been beyond years, young that you were, a period
I furthered. Gone too soon, yet there's so much
of you still here, that it dawns~you've never left.
*For my dad, Joe; 1931-1989.
2023 January 20
*HM*
You Select
~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 January 21
Would you be proud,
would you tell me out loud
If you were still on this Earth ?
Would your eyes well with tears,
would you smile and say “ cheers “
would you feel I am someone of worth ?
Would you wrap me up tight in your arms with delight ?
Would you see that I now have a purpose?
Would you now believe
it was so hard to leave my old life that resembled a circus ?
Would your heart swell with love ?
would I fit like a glove
into the family you nurtured ?
Would you tell all your friends ?
would your love never end
now you see that my prospects I furthered ?
I see you in dreams and your face seems to beam with that beauteous light that surrounds you .
I just pray that you see , that there’s lots more to me
than the girl that you left far behind you .
Could you be close by ?
Are you near when I cry
In the wind softly drying my tears ?
Could it be your embrace ?
Is the sun on my face ?
Stroke my arm when I’m facing my fears ?
Would you gift me a sign that you’re hearing my rhyme?
That my words have been able to touch you ?
Every moment I relished,
conversations I cherish.
How I wish I could reach out and clutch you.
Though you have now gone
your wise words linger on,
they’re engraved in my mind now forever.
Through the veil that divides,
This tie will survive.
I’ll not let our bond ever sever.
They all pranced through some broad-like avenue
and they've placed apart from each other's course
proved they stood full of airs and graces view
from cameras balanced by those they knew
endmost part of the resplendent concourse
Those cut-and-dried to flick those cameras
for the whole world's glimpse with covetous stares
furthered their verve-like, polyamorous
stayed flamboyance and maintained glamourous
those who've known, curved away their classic glares.
They've prolonged the night, they danced, fancy pants,
on stage, showboating like catamarans
him, up-market tux, her, something from France
news crews grew silent, now they had no chance
when finance asked, they became stammerers.
Gone Hollywood, have we, fashionable
they'd be high falutin' like Fig Newton
Nick Nack Paddy Whack give that dog a loan
his old man, "La-Di-Da", a rollin' Stone!
Man-o-man, how do you guys put it on?
Nouveau riche, --hardly, old money, --never
pretentious finance witnessed and confirmed
how can they survive, leave it to wander
or perhaps it could be dumped to wonder
still, they curved away, with chuckling affirmed.
Nonetheless, leave it to them, there's something
right or wrong, hear their song, da-da-da-DA!
Be this black-and-white world so defining
"Imagine all the people," imaging
the creme de la creme and the la-di-da.
The dark night fell
The evening mist embraced my cold breast
But your love always warmed me up
How could you have had any doubts that I loved you?
When I was in your bed
I was king
Out of it I became a romantically deprived fool
seeking love like all idiots
The moon and the sun cheered for me
they told me you and I were eternal
I believed them
I felt in my marrow we would last forever
Do I have to be bound naked, dragged on sharp rocks,
have you watch my blood spill in the dirt and mix with my tears?
Would that have been enough for you to know the depth of my love?
Would it?
But shortly thereafter, tigers came into our life
and tore you from me
the moon and the sun
are ignoramuses I shouted!
But you rejoiced in your freedom
new blood
new lovers
new ways to make love
new hearts to break
Later, you had four kids that furthered changed you
I railed at the moon and sun’s lies
I told them I could have loved you better than anybody
“It’s not our fault," the sun replied, "she chose others.”
And so my life went,
later I learned nothing remains the same
everything changes and young skin once so proud
weathers and wrinkles like all skin does
The choices people make to explore greener pastures
Have a payback burden
For you it's your kids and wrinkles
And for me it's that I still love you.