Long Grand scheme of things Poems
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Revelations of the Spirit!
Good things are known to come to those who come before their God,
who praise release from earthly woes by celebrating days
of spilling sperm (that meets its end or egg that sparks new life),
creation’s spark has pitched its tent in place of excrement.
“Both fair and foul are next of kin” (1) (if I might paraphrase
some words Jane speaks), with grave and bed compared, noblesse oblige
for those less traveled in this world! What Bishop knows a wife
(excuse)? The pleasures of the flesh called sin (despite intent)
by those who bow to Popes, to Satan’s spawn! A privilege
that they don’t practice! When they think, think those who do so odd!
Will Jane find love although her breasts have grown quite flat with time,
(though proud priests say she’s ignorant of things that matter most)?
I think she will, though dark days come and time eclipses all!
What Nature IS, what Nurtures man, is not his providence,
nor can we think to save ourselves, if God’s not real, we’re toast!
Is worth of self what Jane boasts of, the raptures of the mind?
Can body’s curves, a garment’s subtle wrap, how tresses fall,
boast they’re of what she speaks! Or lowliness her evidence
she matters? God’s grand scheme of things? Not judging (she’d call kind)!
Massaging rhythms vital, love for seasons, love of rhyme!
Long Tooth
1st of September in 2020
Poet’s Notes:
(1) One of my favorite poems by William Butler Yeats
Crazy Jane Talks with the Bishop
I met the Bishop on the road / And much said he and I.
‘Those breasts are flat and fallen now / Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion, / Not in some foul sty.’
‘Fair and foul are near of kin, / And fair needs foul,’ I cried.
‘My friends are gone, but that’s a truth / nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness / And in the heart’s pride.’
‘A woman can be proud and stiff / When on love intent;
But love has pitched his mansion in / The place of excrement;
For Nothing can be sole or whole / That has not been rent.’
*
*
Does anyone want to comment or have thoughts about why Yeats would be so
cavalier about meter in the last two lines of each stanza, even the 1st line of the second stanza when 'Both fair and foul..' would be such an easy fix! It seems hard to believe that he is deliberately sloppy. What is his purpose here?
The whole truth
and nothing but the fu(king truth
That laws, and math, only help solve
local temporary problems,
All of which fall way short
on the infinite needs scale
were we rely on estimates, theories,
and other manmade truths
Still here we are,
alone on a goldilocks planet
All 8 billion of us milling around,
living our lives
guaranteed nothing
other than this moment
and whatever came before
To think otherwise
would be presumptuously human
As for choice is there really any
other than try feed ourselves
and sate the instinct to survive and thrive
We are a civilisation built on
disparate societal values and creeds
Each day is an imperceptible handover
from one generation to the next,
with no guarantee they’ll do a better job
But the real problem is not truth,
It’s why!
Why anything at all,
Why life
Why the fu(k am I asking these questions
I’m apostate, No!
I have little faith, No!
I am honest, No!
A nihilist, No
It’s because I have a sentient,
curious, unapologetic mind
that compels me to ask why!
Sometimes I think
i’d be better off a sponge
floating in crystal clear turquoise balmy oceans
Soaking up oblivious unintelligible surroundings
Indifferent to mortality and the universe,
popping off a few buds every once in a while,
or whatever sponges
brainlessly do to further their species
Such basic life is so very tempting
but just doesn’t sit right
Never to experience love
however fleeting,
Never to endure pain
However crushing,
Never to feel like throwing in the towel,
Even if just to mop blood
off the floor like a sponge
See, I’ve had moments
unimaginably beautiful,
Alongside unconscionably awful ones,
Moments so real
they can’t have been synthesised
by any stretch of any imagination
I believe a God or the universe
created me as a vessel of interpretation
to perceive itself
from my unique perspective
Well not unique per se,
more a personalised handicapped view
I am nothing and everything
in the grand scheme of things
No more! No less!
One that uses swear words
language you may not like,
yet clearly understand
The weirdest part is not the feeling
I’ve written this fu(ked up poem
in previous carnations
It’s my swearing
just seems to be getting worse
By
David Kavanagh
My life, my death ...
I appreciate the concern, really
I know you're the kind of person who feels responsible for everyone
I've always known that, and it's not a bad thing
I honestly admire that SO much, and wish I could be more like you
But here's the thing that I don't believe you're considering:
I don't WANT to be saved ... for any reason
There's a point in life, (for some people, certainly not all)
Of diminishing returns, thus ...
Where the pain - emotional, mental or physical, (or all three)
Overwhelms the desire to be alive ... to be here
And, in the grand scheme of things, a person can NOT be denied that choice
Outwardly it may seem like the grand thing, the compassionate thing
The caring and kind thing, to "save" a person's life
But in SO many instances, as I have witnessed and learned
A life is not being SAVED, a DEATH is being denied
A human is being robbed of the choice to END that suffering and agony
And that is not a good or kind or thoughtful thing at all
I know this is hard for you to hear, but listen with your heart and understand
I hurt, in every way imaginable, and it is not going away
And though I love you with all I am, and embraced life with my being
I have reached the breaking point, I am DONE ... and I must go
I adore you so, especially for this need you have to repair the world
But you must release me, and do so with love ...
For I don't need saving, I need understanding and allowance
I need you to know that I will never be farther away than your heart
That I am leaving for good reasons, that my pain is lifted
That I will miss you, and that my spirit will finally be free ... to soar
Do not let fall any tears of sadness for my sake
Let those damp drops be badges of joy for my healing
Let each one fall with a happy remembrance of good times
And let them wash any doubt or guilt from your mind and spirit ...
My life, my death ... I love you.
(This is a view of suicide that many people fail to consider, and a subject that we must talk about much more than we do ... I am making no judgements here).
Does This Make Sense?
Some will find they’re at odds with opinions expressed
here, call me to account, but I color all friends
who remain in the room! When your feelings are hurt -
if your heart’s to forgive, will’s to clear each impasse,
joy’s to act in a way that shows warmth to some rhymes
(till the end of life’s breath), that expand who I am
(though blood slips bounds of banks), I aspire to that rock
as I climb from life’s beach, clear my vision of clouds,
and join aspect of stars that are light-years away.
Is perfection a reason that love gets confessed
or observed? Who dreams pearls (fools sign worth - fashion trends)
all command such an arc (this sad question’s too curt?)
when their fossilized curves serve to compost morass
at bays’ bottoms with oysters whose housing sublimes
to time’s sandstone? Is fruit from a poisoned exam
(that one cheats on) all ‘Love’ is? You need to take stock
if you think you’re not fool to believe you best crowds
of those wiser than you, aren’t Cro Magnon cliché.
Are genetics we own plus or stain on (God’s?) path?
Ours a toehold, a second (from life’s first veneer
through the moment we’re in) if earth’s hour is one day,
our whole galaxy’s fatuous footnote, a tag
in the grand scheme of things! And we’re plum in God’s eye?
Did the dinosaurs sin to imagine God’s Grace
was theirs too in the millions of years they held reign?
God! One day all got stoned! Did they brag they were clay
formed, a likeness of God that He kissed with life’s breath?
Some may claim that “The one thing I’m sure of is death,”
but they’re kidding themselves. Our acts can’t earn their way!
“Souls are real!” “Death is real!” Both aspire to less pain,
but ‘Lights Out’ is a window our fingers can’t trace.
It’s in ‘faith’ all approach to greet exit and try.
Does the Atheist go to his fate smoking f*g?
Do Believers who die win gold rings in some way?
Do Agnostics escape faith who think truth’s most dear?
May God’s Justice get served, steeped in Grace, not earned wrath!
Brian Johnston
7th of March in 2021
On a still but misty sandy sea shore; On one sleepless and sorry sorry night,
I looked up into the bright stary stary sky. Immediately, my eyes became fixated upon
a single star, and delightfully, I waved to say, "Hi". As if aghast at my greeting, it back away and said, "Bye".
At first I felt estranged from such impoliteness; and the the star's indifference triggered within me a quiet sigh.
But in a flash, I bounced back from my bewildered emotion! And feeling a loving embrace, I set aside my compulsion to cry.
That was when I realized that I was more than an insignificant me on a sorry sorry night, but was also a very loved one deeply entrenched
in the grand scheme of things. I had connected and interacted with a star in a galaxy so far far away in the distant universe. When I observed
that the inanimate star could not relate to me, I rediscoved my own significance, the acceptance of me, my own relevance, my own connection.
Embraced by the love of God, we remember that He sits above, below, and all around His vast universe, never losing sight of us, nor a falling sparrow.
07102017PSContest, Mid July Standard, Brian Strane, 3P Fictitious story
As I lay upon a grassy bald in the Great Smoky Mountains on a clear August night, I gaze at the stars and muse about my Creator, the source of all dynamic energy. A tear forms in my eye as I contemplate whether or not he cares about someone as insignificant as me. After all, who am I in his grand scheme of things? A nobody. A nothing. A tiny speck of dust in a seemingly endless universe, full of amazing wonders and mysteries.
I pluck a blade of grass for no other reason than it is there and stare at it for a moment. How many blades of grass must cover the earth, I wonder to myself. Each tiny blade is made of many cells. And each cell contains chloroplasts which are like tiny factories, taking in sunlight and carbon dioxide and turning them into energy in an amazing process called photosynthesis. The green color is worthy of contemplation too. The chlorophyll in the plant absorbs all the colors of the light spectrum except green, which is how it then appears to our eyes. But grass doesn't just cover the land and add to its beauty. It is food for countless living creatures on earth. All these things I have known for years but never gave it much thought till tonight. Why now?
Then it hits me like a warm zephyr. If God put so much thought into creating a blade of grass, he must care about me! Was I not made in his image and likeness? Do I not possess the divine qualities of love, justice, power and wisdom? Does my heart not cry out for the innocents killed in frivolous and unjustifiable wars? Do I not bleed for victims of abuse and neglect? And does my soul not long for a close relationship with my Maker, who has promised better times in the days ahead?
The stars look different now, warmer. The full moon an orb of peace and comfort, hanging in the heavens for my delight. I am loved. I am important. And I will forever be grateful to the One who taught me this invaluable lesson on a hot August night in the Smoky Mountain National Park.
epiphany strikes
stars above gifting insight
me, part of the whole
In the wood, two paths diverged, I could follow but one. It seemed absurd, to make
a choice that many had made, to believe in one, and the other proclaim, that the
one I follow leads to the light, because others believe it, it must be right, and there
on the trail of the path I follow, a penny I found beneath the hollow, of an oak that
has stood for thousands of years, and besides mine dropping … a million tears. It’s
been there witness to this and more, to the greatest of love and the hatred of
scorn, its seen man aplenty in grandeur and sorrow, and in every vein belief that we
choose to follow, it cannot move … it only bears witness, to the hope we spill out,
our blood of Sucre’s. Its seen people bleed for naught but the land, that its shadow
has fallen upon, for this grand, scheme of things that we believe is tomorrow, but
never our eyes will open to follow, that greatest of things … the lifting of sorrow.
To put forth the light of a “Penny” that’s borrowed, from the one who created that
thing he hallowed, beneath a tree where a penny was found, and a child picked up
and thought … “He Crowned”, for once before … owned he nothing, and now
afterward … owned he something, that was not his but something of store, of
another’s hands … a pennies succor, and where this thing so small and slight,
where it came from … who had the might, to change the fortunes of one so slight, to
bring a child out of this thing called blight, just from the simple task of seeing, this
thing beneath a tree was gleaming, of copper … not gold this thing he followed, and
like his hopes before he had swallowed, and noticed it there beneath its glimmer, a
grain of sand that brought its shimmer, to add to this, this Penny that shines. And
shows of a time, when life went without rhyme. When nothing made sense … not
even the penny, which small fingers picked up and thought it plenty, enough to give
birth to wine and bread and the water that we all wish we had
Form:
I hear a soft pitter patter, against the window pane
I look up and there's tears against the glass, I see tiny drops of rain
I watch it splash and land, I watch as the wind blows it around
I watch the patterns form, and listen to the calming sound
There's nothing like hearing rain, falling from above,
Nothing like standing under the steady stream, and dancing in the rain
I spread my arms out wide, as far as they can go,
I close my eyes and stand real still, a feeling like no other known
It's soft and cold and refreshing all at once
It's a once in a lifetime thing, it's a one and only chance
So take a leap, and jump into the stream,
Come and take my hand, let your soul run free,
Take a chance and feel the rain with me
All the joy, all the life
All the colors of the earth
Hear the sounds, call your name
A brilliant rebirth
So follow me, into the storm
And listen to life taking a new form
My senses overwhelmed, my emotions askew
Feeling like I'm flying, joy I never knew
Nothing like some thunder and rain
To wash away the tears and pain
It's my chance to be invisible, to all the people walking by,
Like tears blending with the falling rain, and watching the world fade away as you cry
To dance in the rain, brings tears of joy to my face
The power that blows across the wind, takes me to another place
The clouds above my head, thunder to the beat of my heart
The lighting strikes across the sky, cutting a path for me to follow
No many people can see the beauty, behind the thundering storm
For they are too caught up in the darkness it brings
To find the beauty that shines, within even the darkest things
Is to cherish the dark, for the beautiful stars it brings
Though life may be short, in the grand scheme of things
When I’m dancing in the rain, life seems to be put on pause
So enjoy the light pitter patter, of the rain against the glass
And savor these big moments, cause the tiny ones don’t really last
Dear Jack, Jill, and Phil.
As your father, I feel obligated to advise you
to set your priorities in life and do it early.
Love your family, staying very close to them,
and putting none before nor above them but God.
It's best that we never seek to be popular, but
rather, it is vital that we thrive to be pure. It's
best to major in the things that we control and
minor in things over which we have no control.
Although very minuscule in the grand scheme of things,
my tenure on earth thus far has been a blessing to others.
Like the way Jesus responded when the woman wiped his feet
with her hair. The Master's response to such an act of love was,
"She has done what she could". We all do not get to be heroes,
but we get the opportunity to do what we can; and in the eyes
of the one that matters, doing what we can do, is enough.
Some years ago, I heard a story of a professional heavyweight boxer.
During his career, he was knocked down more than any other fighter.
The question asked was, how could he have been a champion when he
was knocked down so often? The answer was simply that, HE GOT UP.
Life comes at us with such force and offensive maneuvers that it is
almost impossible not to be floored by them. quitting does not always
mean that we walk away. More often than not, it's an opportunity to
take a different approach, a new route, or a different direction.
There are myriads of suggestions that I could recommend that give
you a fighting chance to be successful in this world of challenges.
However, I will leave you with the three mentioned above. Remember:
1. You don't have to be a best-seller, a star, or a hero to be successful.
2. When you get knocked off your feet, and it is easier to stay down, Get Up!
3. Sometimes, success means quitting or taking a break to keep going. And frequently, it demands that we go around rather than up the mountain and being wise enough to take a different direction.
Much love,
Your father
blue planet water
blue sky just scattered sunbeams
dusk's red, unbent light
Brian Johnston
July 28,2014
Poet's Notes:
Isn't it great? Three wonders of nature explained in 17 words. It is so much fun
sharing my love of Physics with others. Lay people in general have no idea the
treasure they are missing. Of course Religious Literalists are the most deprived.
They literally live in the stone age (and the rock is all between their ears!)
Physics is not a replacement for God in my mind, but rather, like a beautiful
sunset, another way of viewing Him, of experiencing His love for us. Physics is
just a different perspective of the same mountain as it were.
God is mysterious (but he is also accessible) . He is a humanist (loving us as
He loves His own son) , a mathematician (the underpinnings of Physics) , a
musician (think of the joy we experience in all harmonies, even discordant
ones) , an artist (the waiting beauty of galaxies far exceeding the imagination
of man) , a humorist (who besides me doesn't think that it is extremely funny
that the Jews, as His chosen people, behaved no differently really than non-
Jews - God granting special favours clearly does not make us better people.
'Just do this for me God and I will never stray! ' Really just hilarious!) , and on
and on.
Really, as usual, Einstein had a very interesting perspective that I think we
should all embrace, 'Reality is an illusion! ' And so it is folks! The only posture
appropriate in the presence of God is one of extreme humility (and gratitude) .
Let me quote one of my own echo poems here, Echo: Alone Too...
Alone….. with the lost! Are prayers ever answered?
Alone….. my heart overwhelmed. Could that be a prayer?
I look at the rainbow as summer squall passes
And find that I'm grateful that I am a player.
Aren't all of life's problems, in the grand scheme of things (if we are honest)
really little more than a 'summer squall? '