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Long Growth Poems

Long Growth Poems. Below are the most popular long Growth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Growth poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

SweetSpots

Could you tell me, please,
how to become polypathically smarter,
economically deep learned and wisely adept with 
co-arising ecologically systemic theories
to grow more co-empathic trust 
of and for cooperatively organizing positive and nutritional slow-growth
yet optimally sustainable Continuous Quality Health Improvement?

Try using (0) sum cooperatively nutritious values 
ecologically analogous as DNA-co-arising fractal-rainbow-spiral 
wave-linear neural/sensory thermodynamic balancing
notnot P-Yang = N(NP)Yintegral-reverse co-lateral: 
 
Prime (0) SpaceTime REvolving Fractal-GeoMetric Relationship,

DualDark Cytosine Golden Ruling Full-Octave-Interdependent Uracil Yang

eco/ego-equivalent with 
Yin-Right/Yang-Left MindBody 
Co-Arising NonDual ReGenerative=Positive=PolyPathic Health Assumption

with bicamerally polypathic-empathic trust-healthy/notnot
reweaving memory
(0)Riginal Intent of Ecological as ReGeneratively Intelligent and Nutritious and Fertile 
and potentially-viral-positively deviant
Tipping Point
wu wei
MidWay:

in-between P=N(NP) (0)-soul ecosystemic universal
open-systemic quad-lateral space/time 

Yang/Yin TaoTime Balance,

flowering Multicultural WinWin (0)Riginal 
zero-sum 
ego-nature/eco-divine balance,
 
EarthTribe EgoLandscape 
with EcoClimate Health-ReGenerative CoOperative Intent.

Well, thanks for all those interdependent revolutions
of evolution's positive and more recently negative pathology developments,
but I wasn't finished with my questions.

Oh. Sorry. I heard your question about how to get on the fast bodhisattva climate-health deep learning ecology track,
and the one about cooperatively regenerative economics.
Do you have other priorities you would like to pursue more resonantly,
hopefully with both wiser and more loving outcomes
for yourself,
those who compose your rapidly extending humane-sacred CoIntelligently PolyPathic Family,
and all Earth's EcoSystemic (0)-sum Left/Right CoDominant DNA/RNA Solidarity root-ecosystemic nutrition-digestion Tribes?

Yes, I'm quite sure I must have wanted to know how to help us become more powerful 
with cooperative-flow of multiculturing integrity outcomes 
within all co-arising revolutionary sides 
of and for normative Climate HealthRights values?

Perhaps edge off on the competitive LeftBrain Bodhisattva Humane/Sacred 
competitions,
with unnecessarily paranoid
chronic cognitive-affective dissonant disinvestment
in Business As LeftBrain-Competitive/Deductive-Either/Or Usual,
still too invested in ego v eco-centric pathological myths,
when we each,
within,
so clearly love ReGenerative Creation Stories 
to healthy-fertile synergize
both Left and Right together, forever, 
Positively Evolving Nutritious Psychology
of Ego/EcoPolitically SweepSpot erotic/agapic 
hot revolutionary development.

Oh, wow, that was quite an ecopolitical mouthful.
I didn't think to take notes.
And, it would be too embarrassing to ask if you could repeat
all that redundant resonance
about zero sums and souls and investments 
as nurturing Mother Earth's values in healthy wealth,
but, I know we're nearly out of networking room,
and, of course,
I probably saved my most important question
about wisdom for last.
How might I share your (0)-zen-tao of time's EcoPolitical Balancing Wisdom?

Well, I think that (0)-Core Prime Relationship of Yang/Yin EquiValent PermaCulturing Wisdom
was fairly well covered in Bucky Fuller's Synergetics,
especially if you start with his revolutionary fractal-fertile
regenerative definition of (0),
which looks suspiciously like his double-binding torus of
Yang/Yin as Out/Integral tensegrity.

I'm not really looking,
I don't think I am, anyway,
really necessarily holding Bucky up as my Avatar of Wisdom,
so I'm not sure if that's a geometric mathish LeftBrain Dominant-Deductive,
Reductive area of non-ecological research
that would most surely put me only further to sleep.

Oh yes,
as it did for a vast many of Bucky's audiences.
I'm not suggesting you look at Fullerian zeroism of intelligent health-cooperative ecopolitical design
so you can learn to repeat back his sonorous journey into, and away from, 
bodhisattva polypathy.

Your question is about how you can achieve a cooperatively ecotherapeutic Climate HealthRights Optimization platform,
as Fuller has done before you.
That was his late premillennial cooperative revolution prediction time;

This is your early postmillennial time to look more closely
at what we have done cooperatively Left/Right ecotherapeutically so far,
and what remains of our climate pathologies,
both those within EgoLeft Yang,
and those that feel more sacredly and sadly without,
on display across Planet Earth for all to see and smell and not taste,
RightBrain Yin's cognitive-affective dissonance
about how far Her LeftBrain prodigally polypathically potentiated child has yet to come,
to remember our Beloved Communication 
as Nurturing Organic Health Paradise,
when LeftBrain's Tower of Babel
has noticed RightBrain continuing integration
of ReGenerative ClimateHealth 
Heart Chakra Networks 
of Matriarchally Embryonic DNA/RNA MultiCultural Solidarity FlowRoots
back through EarthTribe's history of further evolution.

So is this bicameral equivalence wisdom
as root system of ecotherapeutic healing
really all we can do to bump economic-ecologic empowered healing
up from those who already read Yes! magazine,
to those who also read The Wall Street Journal?

I wonder how large and small a population that is?
Is this sufficient wisdom for your ecopolitical paradise?
Or would it work somewhat better,
if everyone could remember,
(0) Core ecosystem is that spacetime (0)Rigin
from which each of us has evolved,
initially through matriarchally nutritious YinFlow abundance,
and to which we return,
with ever more (0)-soul ego/eco-centering polypathic ecoconsciousness,
each night we dream in RightBrain EcoYin 
Matriarchal Sacred ReGeneration,
Dialectals of Deep Learning CoMentoring Earth,
PermaCulturing SweetSpots.




Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by James Hackett Jr | Details |

A Glimpse In A Life

A Glimpse In A Life
By James Hackett Jr


Grasping Sand
The harder i try to reach you, the gap seems to expand.
Its like grasping at sand the harder I squeeze the more slips through.
I do not know if its the difference in times journey that made me a different man.
Or the course of your life that wants to push me to another plan.
I know loves there but it feels like there has never been a visible stance.
I wish I could know what you know just a quick glance.
A memory of us that makes you smile but thats for you.
Just know I have plenty and its the reason I can still stand.
That is why I will never ask to you change because I know I am just grasping at sand.

The Demons I Hide
We all have demons, 
We all have lied,
Its those of us that hide for pride or shame,
That push on others when we are to blame.
I am that man it be wrong to say,
to cast a stone any other way.
Still the question remains,
with out these demons called pain,
Could you appreciate the cool breeze before a midnight rain?
Would love feel so sweet if never burned by its flame?
Don't hide from your demons embrace them.
Walk through the dark and do not faulter.
Pray if you need but know the light of forgiveness is your alter.

Your Eyes
The first time we met we were kids faulty and arragant.
Maybe me more than you cause I never knew love.
That kind of love that hits deep and fast like meteor when something crosses its path.
It wasn't your beauty 
It wasnt your smile
I got lost in your eyes
Like an emerald maze of denile
I knew then what I wanted but felt in my heart I was not your aisle.
So we grew up and grew apart but never forgot my desire 
to look into to those green eyes of fire
and tell you I love you and it will never extinguish or expire.

A Walk With Death
I never thought so early so young.
I would sit across from you and talk about the things I had done.
I didnt fear you but felt your icey embrace as you took color from my face.
I figured we would just leave and that would be the end of my race.
My dreams my amitions gone without a trace.
Instead you warned me of those who had arranged are date.
Then took me on a stroll through time and through space.
I saw those I left behind and the things they would never hear me say.
Abruptly you asked me is this really how you want to leave in place.
Then I shook my head no embarressed and ashamed you smiled and laughed.
Then you understand, know this was never your path.
We all fall and lose are way, some hit harder than others                                                                     
you took it to the lowest summit on the lowest plain
As I wondered if this was the true Death's face.
He said remember this moment and learn to walk away.
A moment of warmth and light in my eyes to look up and see my mother.
I finally Understand why.

Music Is Life
To me music is life.
It binds and shares it connects in ways not seen by any eyes
Its an expression of the soul 
Or an escape to a world where you find peace and control
It heals wounds and grants courage
motivates in face of determint
Music is the wind that calms the body
The pill that relaxes the mind 
It needs no words nor reason to bind
masses of people who would never lend a hand or a dime
come together to celebrate our greatest acheivement
the ability for all creeds to stand together fell it and believe it.

Family
Family isnt bound by blood 
Family is bound by love
Its not shared through drugs
created through kisses and hugs
Family is the ability to love
To stand by a brother
when the things get rough
or lend a shoulder 
when the world is to tough
Family never asks
Because Family already knows
Family will always be there 
when those who claim to to stand toe
leave at the first moment the they think they know
a better oppertunity to find a better tree for their ivy to grow

The Mirror
Looking in the mirror I see the story of my life
The times when I was young fighting for my bike
My first kiss 
My first miss
The first time I thought I was going some where great
And the first time I fought to pick myself up after i failed
Times when I couldnt bear it and wanted it to break
Then found the strength to put it back together                                                                                       
After forgiving the shatered pieces of my long going mistakes
Now the mirror is a reminder of of where Ive been but also where im going
once it was a boy looking back laughing and gloating
now its a man who has traveled along road back to it to see where he is going.

Worst Enemie
I am my worst enemie like most im not special.
The struggle is a daily battle between me and him.
But where some look at it as a burden I look to it as a strength.
He is my rival he helps me grow.
Not all battles are one but prgress still shows.
It took time I wasnt always in control.
I have the scars to prove as a reminder to never forget what I know.
Im caring
He is selfesh
Im sharing
He is relentless
He has strengths that I dont have but he doesnt have restraint.
I have strengths he doesnt have but lack the curage to mantain.
We are one and through time are battles have taught us to trust in in each other.
There has always been struggle in out hearts but that is because in my opinion we fight who we are to be who we want people to see and this is what causes us interturmoil.
Dont lose yourself to the world but lose the battle inside.
We only lose when we stop fighting and I will never stop.

Copyright © James Hackett Jr | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by arthur vaso | Details |

The Library of Trust and Hope

The Library of Trust and Hope
The Bank of Trust and Hope

(Cant decide on title, so feel free to pick or suggest one)

She was all but four years of age
Birthdays were such magical moments
The cake was filled with candles
The balloons still in their package twelve on the table

Daddy daddy, I can not fill these balloons!!
They are not magic like you said!!!!!
Do not fret Maria, its daddy who is magical
I shall help you little one, let me see those balloons

Sure enough daddy blew up twelve white and pink balloons
Maria was in awe at daddy’s magical powers
She knew her daddy would fight dragons to bring her but a smile
Maria knew she was safe in daddy's arms, oh what a birthday this will be

Maria was now ten years older
Fourteen years old and already filled with so many happy memories
On this fall day, home from school
There was grandpa in the back yard as usual

He was tending his garden of roses
When she was younger, he told her they were magical roses
Grandma would speak to him in his magical garden
From the heavens above


Now at eighteen, daydreaming in a coffee shop
A stranger picks up a rose from an empty table
A smile oozing in charm, stares into her eyes
This is for you, beauty for beauty


She was swept off her feet, in a whirlwind romance
They danced and dined, it seemed all on her dime
Until the morning she awoke, completely alone
Both lover and credit cards did abscond


Now twenty one, and wise to the world
Absorbed in her studies, somewhat colder than one should be for that age
A chilly fall day in an empty library
A stranger comes, giving her a drawing of a red rose

Hello he says! I drew this for you!
Oh no she thinks to herself, not another one!
Politely she smiles and replies thank-you, but I am taken
This stranger smiles right back and says, the drawing is for you no matter

The next week, and the weeks after, the same routine
He comes to her with a drawing of another beautiful rose
She politely declines his advances
Maria knows that a rose, has a stem, and that comes with pricks

The twelfth week and here he is again
What is the poor girl to do?
She is curious, and she can not quite help herself
She asks, from what do you draw such beautiful flowers?

He smiles kindly and replies
How about next week, I show you?
We can have a coffee, and discuss art
Hesitating she just can not say no to this simple gesture of kindness

They are walking along, and surprisingly she finds herself
Quite intrigued with the ease of their conversation
He takes hold of her hand, and says I live over there, the house in red
She has no time to object as he pulls her forward to the backyard

She stares in absolute shock and awe at what appears before her
Why its the most beautiful, wonderful, enchanting English garden she ever saw
You? she stammers, you made this?
He smiles shyly and says; well now you know what inspires my drawings

Now Maria is eighty and filled with both happiness and sadness
Her husband of all these years has passed on
To be with all his precious roses in the heavens waiting
She sits in their garden, remembering a life time of memories

She picks a single rose, and inhales its fragrance
Contemplating the wisdom's of life
I miss you so much my love
You taught me trust is earned and not given
	Your love was my blanket of happiness, wait for me my love, 
		I am yours eternally





Dear Reader

I was lucky in life to have had a good upbringing. My daddy, showered me with love, but most of all he taught me that gifts were not objects, balloons were not magical, nor was he. I learned that what was magical is the time and effort he took to love me, and protect me and those memories I so cherish, but they also he showed me the values I hold dear in myself and those around me. 

Then there was dear old grandpa. His garden was his passion, and I suspect that if I could have had more time to spend with him, it was really grandma’s passion, and after her passing, this was the activity that kept him close to her soul. In that respect, I guess it was truly a magical garden. Whenever he saw me, his eyes would light up, he would pour lemonades and he told me such wonderful stories. Unlike many though, he listened to all my troubles and told me, that in life I had to learn some things the hard way, but that he himself knew for a certainty that I would find the love and happiness, that as a young women, I felt would be lost to me forever.

I re-tell my story for all the people out there that have lost trust in others, or have lost hope in humanity. You may have your heart stolen for awhile, someone can bring you sadness, but never let them steal your soul. Learn that trust is earned, not given, and never punish the rest of the world, for your bad experience, for ultimately it is you who suffers most. Be giving, kind and generous, with a strong will and mind. If someone does not respect you, then they shall never earn your trust, and that’s how it should be. Be wise, be prudent, be safe, but most of all be open to love and kindness

God bless
Maria Sefue

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by SUNIL seebalack | Details |

Lights out and passionate misery

Lights out and passionate misery.

Lemme tell you a short story,
Oxymoronic in its reality,
As I was younger life was just to be,
Ego, fun and all the overseas party,
Speed, defiance, all that was me,
Loving the edge, so passionately.

hmmm...

Fire burning my forceful will,
As Life is short when time sits still,
I lived it fast, enjoying the thrill,
Try catching me, doubt you will!
I'm burning both ends, passion still.

Fill these shoes? Think you will?
Life starts at one fifty bitches, get your fill.

Imminent dust, as it's all it be,
Come now, try to get ahead of me,
A time may come, when I'll probably slow down,
But you'll be too old to come around.

See ya then, and everyone else,
Don't try imitation, be yourself.

As time is bitter when life is still,
Adrenaline is my own selfish thrill.

If I'm gone today it won't matter much,
I'm stepping hard and burning clutch,
I leave behind my questioned memory,
Nothing tangible just remembrance of me.
As in my life towards my death,
A Little time spent on past regret.

One other thing I forgot to say...
If you see me coming, get out of my mother fucking way!

  And now?

The aftermath...

Ego talk then, no more words said...

hmmm...

I didn't see this coming,

Wasn't looking too far ahead...
It only renders the words spoken,
 the ego eventual dead...

For in the midst,
The unconsciousness,
Life stood still in my head,
Broken in blood, stained, as my body bled...

Unconscious and left for dead...

Awakened in a strange white bed,
Regaining consciousness to what is said,
Empty memories running through my head,
Was I alive? or was I dead?
A broken body? a fractured head?

What the fuck took place?
Remembrance has been erased! 

With a swollen face,
It's hard to place,
What happened here,
What happened where?

Blooded mouth my tongue did taste,
Broken jaw in three different place.

The lights went out,
Probably just about,
24 hours ago ...
The lights went out,
And I still don't know...

I lost control or so they say,
So I'm told in a cynical way,
I was driving a bit too fast,
An eventual crash,
At 5 pm Saturday.

I broke my body,
In many a different place,
I wrecked my car and smashed my face,
As the card game goes my blood I taste,
The trump card called I held no Ace.

The memory don't  remember,
Illusive in fractures that render.

The wounds they bled a lot,
My body pained for repeated morphine shot.

Such that was but I walked away,
The recollected fuzz of blurred that stay.

Nothing rendered but only,
An abundance of empty,
The fucking empathy,
Insomniac,
And another fact, 
All lost in this memory.

Payable sins I must have gotten,
Possibly Karmic debt, 
Of not just yet,
Left and would not let...
Past life debt not to be forgotten...

As I write these words in reflection upon the past,
Something else happened besides the crash,
There was another occurrence on that day,
I wished it was forgotten but in memory, it would stay.

I was pissed, driving too fast,
As I would say just before,
Just before the bloodied gore,
Just before the accidental crash,
My wife was having her fun,
As her whoring days begun,
She had my cousin's Dick up her Ass!

In the hospital, she came to see,
To see her husband in post-traumatic misery.
Pretending now! 
And just how!
Pretentious she could be,
The saddened wife that shared my broken empathy,

So as I awoke in this strange white bed,
The wife came closer and simply said,
You crashed your car and smashed your head.
You broke your jaw, and ribs, shoulder, and your leg.

And so you were found,
The steering wheel wrapped around,
Wrapped around your head,
Motionless, bloodied and mistaken for dead.

These memories of mines,
I wonder at times,
If they're better of somewhere else rather than in these lines.

Months after the occurrence,
Living life with the indifference,

It's hard to eat when you cannot chew,
But my jaw is broken so what can I do?

Living in pain every day,
I wouldn't complain and never say,
That my ribs hurt as I breathe,
And my broken nose would constantly bleed.

I now have scars on my face,
The blood is mines that I taste,
And with a broken knee its hard to walk,
And with a wired mouth it's hard to talk.
There's steel place in my jaw so I can heal,
But pain is rendered its all I feel.

My fast life was brought to a sudden down,
Everything that was has fallen to the ground.

So much for a fast fucking ride, huh?
I guess I'll see you on the other side, yuh?

Cause it's lights out as I hit the wall,
The next time I won't have any luck at all.

Unconsciousness mind seeing red,
As I Awoken in a strange white bed,
Darkness shadowed  words that were said,
Empty memories through my head,
Was I alive,
 was I  dead?
A broken body, 
a fractured head...


S F B

Copyright © SUNIL seebalack | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

The Sooner Recruit

Fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan;
And watched thousands of recruits try to make my Sooners Team.
Often, I’ve enviously wondered what it must be like
To be a touted Sooners recruit, living out his dream.

He’d had a great career through high school;
Made good grades, was a football star, played baseball too.
Coach said college recruiters were watching closely;
So, he tried his very best to make his dream come true.

You see, he’d played on the L’il Sooners as a kid;
Started getting serious about the game when he was only eight
Played with older, bigger boys and practiced hard;
Always told his friends, “To be a Sooner, ya gotta play great”.

Oh yes, his parents raised a football player;
And, even more important, a Sooners fan;
But he wanted more, to be a Sooner,
To feel the glory raining down from the stands. 

Now, the Sooners’ Head Coach is in his living room.
“Son, you’ve got talent.  We think you fit our scheme.
We’re offering you a scholarship, an opportunity
To be an important member of our great Sooners Team”.

His mother smiles her biggest smile.
His father nods proudly and pats him on the knee.
“Lord knows, son, it’s a dream come true.
Go be the very best Sooner you can be”.

He walks into the locker room,
Not quite sure what to expect;
But sure that to play for the Sooners
He will first have to earn respect.

He looks each man straight in the eye - 
Other recruits, trainers, assistants, and every coach.
“Be proud, but respectful”, his mother had said;
Your character, more than your performance, must be above reproach”.

His handshake is firm and he smiles.
“Only one chance for a first impression”, his father had said;
"Always put yourself in positive light, on and off the field.
That’s what it will take to play for the mighty Big Red”.

He meets so many other recruits, each one a high school star.
He’s played against a few and knows they share his dream.
And, to a man, each knows before any chance for Glory,
He first must prove worthy to play for this Sooners Team.

He knows a few will fail to meet the coaches’ expectations.
For some, the scout team will be their fate.
Many will suit up, but rarely play.
Only the very best will ever dare to be great.

Coach says, “If every man learns and executes when called on,
Then this team, we Sooners, will win a lot of games;
But, win or lose, if you play hard and give your very best,
You’ll never have to hang your heads in shame”.

“But gentlemen, with or without you, this team will win.
Every season, the Sooners strive to win it All.
So, listen, work hard, and prepare yourselves.  Each game is war...
And you must be ready when Victory calls”.

Through grueling practices, he finds himself.
As he walks to class, his closest friends are aches and pains;
But, just the other day, Coach helped him up, smiled, and patted his helmet.
“You’re doin’ fine, son.  Keep pushin’.  Remember, no pain, no gain”.

He sees his name on the "open scrimmage" roster for the very first time.
It’s a moment he’ll never forget, another milestone in his dream.
He calls his Mom and Dad, knowing they’ll tell his family and his friends.
He hopes they’ll actually see him play, proof he’s made the Team.

As he suits up for the last pre-season open scrimmage,
He wonders if the coaches would really let a freshman play at all;
But Coach puts him in for eight plays against the first team;
He makes two great open-field tackles and intercepts the ball.

He barely hears the roar of the crowd, as the whole defense “gives him five”.
He’s so excited, he forgets to ask if he can keep that ball.
Fans are buzzing, “Did you see that hit”!?  “Who is that kid”!?
“Will he red shirt or will Coach let him play this fall”? 

He sees his name in the Sunday paper, hears it on local sports.
He’s happy, but he doesn’t let it go to his head.
He keeps his focus and uses it as motivation.
After all, he wants to start one day for the mighty Big Red.

Yes, we’ll hear more of this young recruit.
Perhaps, one day he’ll be the hero of the game.
A seasoned veteran, maybe All Conference or even All American,
Who’s tasted Victory many times and helped glorify the Sooners’ name.

Oh yes, there have been so many who’ve aspired;
But many fewer who’ve actually made our Sooners Team.
They are our heroes, each and every one;
For it’s through their accomplishments, we fans can live the dream.

Billy Vessels, Steve Owens, Billy Sims, and Jason White,
The Selmons, Little Joe, the Boz, Josh Heupel, and “Q”
They, and so many others, were once touted Sooners recruits;
Who set a higher mark and built the Tradition that is OU.

So, c’mon! c’mon! all you great young football players!
Dedicate your talents to OU’s Team and OU’s Fans.
Make Oklahoma’s Owen Field your Field of Dreams,
And feel the Glory raining down from the stands. 

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 11

In a sudden nodding shift,
I was lifted into the air by the hard wings of the Devil
His putrid stench waking me from what seemed all dream
And upon a balcony of singed vine and blackened soot,
He set me standing
The persistent chirping and buzzing,
Wailing and crying from the maelstrom gnawed my gut
As my eyes opened to this new creation  
Swooping swiftly beside me, a tower of jagged filth and beauty all in one,
He looked down upon me, and out at the parted maelstrom,
And the mighty blue-green light pulsating periodically in golds and reds
Emanating in the center of its massive attachment on the walls of the pit
I stood beside him, in awe of my placement,
In awe of such a purpose now,
A moment that seemed so peaceful, yet full of plot and rot
For he rots and rots in his pit, delightful of it
Estranged from the light, and still intrigued by its merge with his nasty night
By the collaborating genius of his spite, and my light

“Look here, woman,
At the breathing entity before you,
How I breathe like you, sing like you, dream like you
And yet we are parted by such a thing as order
That in the command of your God you stand resilient before me
Splitting my maelstrom to merge with your light
And in turn releasing in me, confusing delight
I am most fortunate to attain such a pleasure as this
That He in such faith has put you before me,
To prove we cannot ignite each other 
To prove we cannot delight each other
Did He so believe you would sing these duets,
With sustaining soul and heart,
Without a withered doubt to part
To mark your superiority and strength,
Gainst a prisoner of art…”

I gazed at the masterpiece before me,
Having only heard his song in the background of the increasingly loud buzzing
And my eyes turned to face his gaze, 
For the masterpiece he beheld, was a masterpiece he wished to graze 

“I have suffered lesions of doubt in my past life, Prince,
Entities of darkness swarming like the insects buzzing in your maelstrom,
Their almost human temperaments convincing downfalls I was cursed with
How we are not as righteous as the next prisoner of sin
How we are no different, no special, and nobody wins…
I am not sad that you are here, Devil,
I do not grieve you like a poor kitten in a drainpipe, 
Like a wounded bird screeching for its wings to bring it upright,
You have brought this residence of woe onto yourself, 
And for that I cannot apologize, 
I cannot sympathize,
Or recognize the true feelings your trampled heart forays
I have risen above such angry, bitter and blackened thoughts,
To make need and necessity crave for spirit of truth,
To rest in virtuous contemplation of a heartier creation…
I look out upon this parted maelstrom and see your allowance of my light,
Though I know you cannot fully appreciate what it means to love,
To appreciate the sheer brilliance of its swell,
Its contrast of color from the green-blue fires, 
To the gaping swirls and screams of your hell
I do not feel sorry for what you have done,
But for what will become of you
In the ending times,
Where I will say goodbye

We shant meet upon this balcony as we do today,
Watching our creation, and singing through the fray
I will see no more the long wings, 
The pulsing rings, and the fetid stings 
 You are a lion who will not retreat
And I am a lion who refuses to eat…”

Staring off into the beaming light, 
His eyes trailing detailed swirls of screaming victims,
Hands and feet wriggling in the muck,
The monsters swimming, biting and grinning
He guided my hand to the center of my light

“See the shadows cast within the light you mast,
Your God fought me to never see how they danced,
How I serving He would always last, 
That even the heartiest angels could never surpass
See how the light fights to subsist with my subordinates
How it merely sustains to point out the beauty of each flaw
How it reveals the true evils within,
How it mocks with righteous piety
The Achilles' heel of sin
Without the light in this dark, 
Have I a place to retreat? 
Till Your God has blessed me,
Teased me, with a lioness so prone to me
See us dance in the center between dark and light
How none leads the other,
How none crests or smothers…
This is the Domination Age woman,
Where soon my gates will be open,
Where soon, even your light cannot remain so bright
Gainst the growth of the grin of my beastly scheme
I don’t need you to be sorry for me, woman!
Only awed, inspired, enlightened! 
How this new revelation reveals command only in hiding
You are no longer lion, dreadful daughter in my sight
You are a leech, a vermin, ready to eat, retreat and reveal
You are the messenger to all you stand up for
A slave, in a way, to understanding this bottomless me…”


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by SUNIL seebalack | Details |

Introspectively

Understanding myself, and towards developing  introvertedly 
The parameters of today, yet most lay dormant inside of me
Questioning the how, as in such, the extended inner faculty 
Fractured as then, it's an opposing end, and loosing my identity 

All oppositions are viewed, and the educators of our society 
Words of old, grown as told, revised, as such, repeatedly 
Inertially we become, a society conformed to one,
Rendering it's loss, within our self Individuality   


In laymen terms, listen to this 
The quotation based, upon our society's  wish 


First you gotta make the money 
Then you can get the power.

When you Get the power, then, you get the respect 
When you Get the respect... then, you get the woman...


Ever  wonder why it's all such?
Desiring material wealth as much
And finally it's all for what?
The Desired  woman's touch?

Hmmm...

Take a moment, and lend an ear 
For I got my own, it's the quote I share

First, you admit that you don't know 
Then you go, and achieve your knowledge 
Got the knowledge? now you can get the power 
Got the power? well then,  you can take the universe 
And now,  You've Got the universe...
 Well then, 
you're A friggin god...

And As for Women?
 well?

Women  worship the Gods!


When tackling any issue, you've  gotta start at it's root within its Right
And even before this, a basis of our own viewed measurable sight
Not loosing ourselves, held confined, outside it's contented light
Knowing simply where, founded, within our roots embedded rights

Upon the foundation that's  embodying our root
Here lies all thoughts, weaved within, the fabric of our truth

What is this, within ourselves, and what is the reality within our wish?
Truth... it's a singularity, it's a union of the all and the oneness,
Truth... it's universally simplistic, and it would always exist...
The everything, the all, and it's  consistency of nothing, as it is this...


The oxymoron as it represents, it's eventuality as would relinquish 
Truth lies within our knowledge, yet it's a call that we constantly miss
Knowledge is awareness, sadness, sorrow and also in the subtle bliss
Knowledge is found in love, in friendships, and even in a simple kiss
Gaining knowledge, is first admitting that, we don't know any of this
Then we truly grow and harmonize, within our lives, and its meandering twists

For in the darkest of nights, the  wise men, they turn towards the stars in sight
The recognition of ones self, our inner star, the introverted truth, of who we are 

Awareness of our individualism 
Understanding within yourself  and it's prism
Awareness of outside environment and it what we do 
Knowing what is around, and how it can affect others, as well as affecting you 
All in achieving our desires, an accomplishment of a single wish...
The Fulfillment, our soul and all the  things like this

The first step is gaining knowledge
And so we would grow

 So, as In the quotation of, GI Joe:

...And now you know...

But Knowing, it's only half the battle... 

The soldier's motto?
If I recalled correctly, I'm sure it is, admittedly so...

Hmmm...


Words of wisdom, oddly, within depths would say 
Reaching out, introvertly, and towards your way


Introversion within, and also against the Outer
As for all the questions, within a single answer 

Understanding truth and their questions after
Knowledge would help us to grow and avoid disaster

In the darkess corner,  and within our chatter
The smallest of light would always render
The guides of our life path, the now and the after




For All that is...  it's within all that was...

As for all that was... it's within, all that is...

The simplicity of life, the religion of love, and how do we truly give...

The Altruism held within our heart, altruistically, the all, required,
To truly live... 


To understand, to grasp, to know, as within the quote would show

The Voice, mind, the eye, and the ear
And within all that we know, and share
These are what lights the lamps of life, love, and care
As  a union and  the foundation, and of all together, within the now, and here



The power within life and equally within the opposed
The redundant repetition of that supposed 
As The Oxymoron, in it's equanimity and thus exposed...
 

Life is the power that burns and is the sun that gives light 
Life is the rain and the thunder in the sky, the wind and our strength and sight
What is matter, and the earth,
 what is death, and what is birth
what beyond , it is an eternity,
And all the  lifetimes lived,  upon this earth, after death and birth, fulfilling our destiny....



S
F
B



Introspectively

Copyright © SUNIL seebalack | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

It's About NotFracking Time

A 1952 vintage Connecticut dormered Cape Cod
painted stark bleached white
with slick jet-black shutters,
hyperbolizing a deep racial minority
statement,
well, issue really,
in my mind of similar vintage
and incarnational permaculture,
conceived in bold ripe August,
born in bullish economy of May.

 

So, I painted her.
Wrapped my arms
and rolled around her
in turquoise sea,
and sky blue,
with rain-cloud grey trim,
so she might be less afraid
and so might I.

Born into late millennial Yang,
reconnecting and reweaving with each other
during trans-millennial now,
how will we transform our economic options
to full diversity and springtime
string-rhymed
polycultures of May?

We grow transformed,
reframed to coincidentally cooperate our octaves of color
and sound
feeling and mind
Yin and Yang,
concavely conceived,
convexly displaying economic ecological
principles of mindfulness as coincidental noticing,
advent of winter's grateful hibernation,
enthymematically aptic communication
inducing measured calculations back through RNA-regenerating
origin of living systems.

Deductive Left-brained dominance need not apply for comprehension,
unless,
balanced by summer's yangish nutritional bullish market,
hope of fruitful outcomed spring,
then summer's faithful following
of full polyculturing
permacultured information root system
formating strings and tendrils
cooperatively absorbing nutrient Spring's and sprouts consumption,
to produce within life-sustainably proportional karmic response
to yang/yin coincidental rich deep ecologically efficient,
and inclusively effective for full speciating diversity,
principles,
values,
norms,
nutrient cooperative economics,
that might actually be logical,
because they are ecological.

These, harvested permaculturally optimized
positive analogical and ecological,
digital and atomic,
temporal and spatial,
linear dynamic Open Set Universe String

AND

Polynomial Closed Set Prime Relationship
aptic-temporal
neural frequency and flow,
balanced bicameral logos-logic:
P=NP because
Left-brained information language
thermodynamically balanced with 3 spatial dimensions
covering 1  equivalent temporal-linear dimension
Commons Economic Balance Assumption
=
(0) Core Vector [B. Fuller and Euler] =
(+) e-function =
+space/(-)(-)time =
space-time-squared =
+1 magnetic balanced QBit quark-function

OVER

(-)(0) QBit.

 

So, all that going on,
more or less,
in our dominant Left hemisphere newer speciated DNA-brain,
AND Right-brained non-linguistic and non-polynomial
intuitive intelligence codes memory dipolar and
coincidentally confluent empathic trust
(harmoniously proportional flow/frequency neural pattern recognition)
(0) Core Vortex =
(-)(-) [not-polynomial dipolar stricture--implicate order] (D. Bohm)

So,
putting all that mess together,
more or less confluently and permaculturally,
+Polynomial-Yang =
(-)(-)Yin (-1 QBit) Nonpolynomial
intuitive temporal-linear-neural balanced
Optimized Information Permacultured String.

Unfortunately,
now that my home and I are parting ways,
I'm finally noticing that even my friends and family
don't particularly care for our change of color
and culture.
It's still kind of a hard sell,
this more colorful permaculture
of community
and economy,
and identity,
and design.

Must be time for adventurous reincarnating revolutions
or we will remain merely ahead of our own non-polynomial ending time.

Time opens space's liturgical rite of passage.
Space coincidentally reincarnates time's
4 equivalent ecological dimensioned order.
Positrons incarnate,
inform negative-linear
4-dimensional equivalent dipolar time.

There is no such thing as non-polynomial time or space
or informatiion,
other than negative binomial time
(implicate ordered Right-brain reverse synchronic-aptic coded).
+P (+1QBit) = (-)(-)P =
+/(-)0 Core binary e-function
Prime Core Electromagnetic Balancing Binary-Binomial QBit.

Spring springs polyculture economics
composting through dark and winterish minds and forms and functions,
still looking for greatest inclusive nutrient yield
without suffering dissonantly wilting loss,
cooperatively flying our regenerative kites
co-id/eco-entity tied with time's river of flowing
informating memory strings.

I know,
you were wondering when
I would finally conclude
with the sex part.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 20

It was a bitter morning, the ground hotter upon my flesh
I kneeled at the center of the pit on the twentieth day,
Remembering a tune sung so long ago,
A great song grieving for the incessant wars 
Around me
I had almost forgotten how cruel the sounds were…
“Dona, dona…nobis, pacem.”

The voices of the suffering groaning,
Satan the Devil landed close beside,
Watching me scoop the muck on the ground with my hands
He eyed me closely, 
Never blinking as he absorbed my solo

I sang the words as I remembered,
My voice ringing around the darkened well
Sifting around and upwards, so that all creatures may behold it

“Word over all,
Beautiful as the sky,
Beautiful that war
And all its deeds and carnage,
Must in time
Be utterly lost…”

He grimaced, as I continued digging through the soot,
My hands scooping slowly and resolvedly

“That the hands of the sisters,
Death and Night,
Incessantly, softly
Wash again and ever again,
This…soiled… world…”

My tears fell upon the filth,
As the sobbing from the maelstrom arose ever louder
The tears dripped richly, freshly
Forming a small puddle that broke the hardened rock,
Washing away the stubborn muck
I dug yet still deeper and deeper,
Slowly and surely…

“I look where he lies white faced and still,
In the coffin
I draw near,
Bend down,
And touch lightly with my lips
The white face
In the coffin…”

My last weak note fell in our Prince’s ear like that of a dull bell,
The break of my voice drawing him nearer
Curiously crouching close
For a long time, he said nothing

In the stillness,
I thought of my grandfather, lying rigid,
A frown forever dressed on his features
A face once filled with bountiful life
The pain of his death reminded me of the evil that birthed such tragedy
The reality of this darkness perching my pain
And I was reminded that twenty days,
And four hundred ninety nine years more,
I must wait
To see his beautiful, alighted face again
To confide in him once more as in days past,
His strong thoughtfulness and kindness
That so led me to be who I am

“Dona Nobis Pacem…” He spat, reviling each word
“How many have sung those very same words, over all,
In vain…to bring their swords and spears to battle,
In turn…to bury their dead, gnashing their teeth,
Crushing the bones of those they love the most…

Dona Nobis Pacem, in the face of war,
The pleading of your tears,
Mud is it merely, that forms there,
In your heart of despair…”

He clasped by dirty hand to cease my digging,
Holding it up for him to see,
To feel how the dirtiness felt between my fingers,
Up my palms, and damasked upon my arms
As if to vanquish the grief in every fiber of my being
As if to extinguish from his thick brow some secret sensation...
He then lowered my hand with a sigh,
Sudden grief interrupting my sorrowful dirge
In some strange, counterproductive confliction
I drew my other hand to him, and set it on top of his own
I looked into his eyes, my heart softly sinking

“Why have I come here to you, Prince of Darkness..?”

Puddles of tears streamed down,
To our feet, and his gnarled toes impressed their warmth
The moment they touched, the ground glowed,
Revealing an expanding pool of clear water
Thirstily, desperately, I broke away from the Devil,
To cup my hands into the water,
To drink

He watched me drink with immense anger and jealousy,
Horror even, at the formation of this pure water in his well
With a great scoop of the soil, the stubborn soot, 
He cried out, hurling the thick mass into the pool, 
And like oil, it dispersed,
Floating in droplets on the surface, 
Secluded from the depths of the water, 
Separate elements, existing together—
He and I

“Dona…dona, 
Nobis…
Pacem… . pacem…” 

His fists clenched
“How I have hurt her…
Let His waters flow within her
I, the current, shall win her
From the inside and outwards, 
How I shall win her. . .
How she must be mine. . .”
-------
-Note: This is a special section which features words that are quoted from the English composer’s Ralph Vaughan William’s great work Dona Nobis Pacem, the third movement (out of six ) entitled Reconciliation. In this song, the words from the poet Robert Frost are put to music. The gentle intensity of this section offered me great happiness and inspiration. 

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Quincy Mac | Details |

Hypothetical Lust COLLAB

                                          Hypothetical Lust

                                            This is a collab 
                                                including 
                                             @james_love 
                                                    and 
                                           @Story_Rhymes 
                                      (Our Instagram names) 

All this poetry I read,
Hypothetical lust,
Generated electrical impulses,
The very same that stirs your heart…
@jamesa_love

Poetry and motion combined, 
defined and put into Story Rhymes,
Climbing the highest mountain for a rest,
Observing desires of the west,
Breaking it all down is what I do best, 
For the happy and depressed,
Germinate, 
Water and grow, 
Watch and be impressed…
@Story_Rhymes

The moment your mind touches mine,
Implosion,
Explosion,
Captivation,
Pulses stifled, still
Cochlear arousal, (still)
An ignition
far more vivid than a nuclear bomb
awakening synapses within…
@jamesa_love

Resurrected wise energy jumps the gaps, 
Understanding time-lapse of the mind 
collapsing conditioned thinking,
Curious,
If so,
Experience,
The Age of Aquarius,
With serious exploration 
excavating and evaluating the mysterious…
@Story_Rhymes

Time travelling
through the mind unraveling,
Mind travelling, 
in space, 
time,
Dismantling,
Everything, 
in between,
Awake, 
half awake,
Not sure,
But you’re soaring through space, 
Combined like atoms,
Phantoms
flying before my eyes, 
I could crawl into your brain,
The simple masterpieces of all I’ve seen,
Pure beauty is a mere insult to the magnitude of its indescribable wonder…
@jamesa_love

Deep words of an observer of the heart,
This is art!
Disaster though,
Due to perceptions 
right from the start,
Easily fooled and ruled by another man,
Instead spread ya wings high to the sky,
And understand,
With iron fists and handshakes of allegorical idioms,
Inviting you, 
to come write poetic hymns with rhythm,
Collapsing conditioned systems with a divine beat peacefully,
Seated with words galore breaking laws of philosophy… 
@Story_Rhymes 

Peering through the amygdala,
I’ll see your past 
in awe,
At how it brought you here,
A creature so wonderfully subtle with tongue,
and bold in nature,
Sui Generis…
@jamea_love

Past, 
Present, 
Future,
Through visions,
you see previous lives and yours,
Deep within the workings of the brain,
Examined different concepts uninfluenced by mainstream,
But can’t tell if it’s a dream?
Dreaming with force on course opening doors,
Like an addictive story teller bringing life to this narrative…
@Story_Rhymes

I’d love to journey through the thoughts of you
Through and through I’d wonder
And wander away to wonder…
@james_love

Yin and Yang like vice versa,
Surfing the subatomic waves of verses,
Through a higher frequency,
Is it easy?
Or is it hard? 
I don’t know where to start, it just happens…
@Story_Rhymes

To be electrified by your synapses, 
And burnt into oblivion,
A million pieces of me,
Becoming blended within,
Something wholly powerful,
Is but a dream,
Locked behind,
The gazing brown puddles,
Reflecting the moonbeam
@jamesa_love

Electric currents fossick neurotransmitter circuitry 
flowing with a kick,
Breaking minds, 
like a horse whisperer removing conflicts,
Using quantum tricks,
Ability levels on high
with craft function quickness, 
Again consciousness meets and greets through poetry,
Reading deeper into concepts Illmatic,
Like static clashing of the two categories, 
Through story rhymes with stories, 
Fiction or real? You are left to decide
@Story_Rhymes

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2016

Long Poems