Long Idleness Poems
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8.The Tragedy of Medusa.
We are all complicit.
Perhaps a man is conditioned to be evil ,
But we should at least know better if we cannot be.
That we've got a choice is the only truth in our encounter with satan.
She is a handful to handle at times,
As I seek to contain her in my cupped fist.
She can't breathe living under my thumb.
Upholding the universe in my Buddha's palm,
But I forgot we ought to pursue gentleness in all things.
Courtesy to the rib taken out of my humanity,
Shouldn't make me feel small for that missing inch or two.
It should free my spine from some of its burden.
Anger is heavy enough without guilt bearing down my soul,
As I'm left holding my head in regret.
Clawing to get at the altars I built the demons in my temples.
On what grounds can I defend myself,
When in idleness I seceded so much to the devil.
Immature men stuck in the stage of little boys terrorising the girl they like.
It's cute till it is not anymore,
Her stare pleaded with me before I hardened into stone.
Judging her harshly by the goddess Athena on everything she couldn't be.
Coming for her head after I desecrated her temple,
That's just the way the story goes and its sequels.
Reality dismissed as a retelling of myths and monsters,
Written in the colour purple and bold.
If the oracle is meant to be, we just have to switch our programming.
Changing the forecast to bless the rains down in africa.
I was supposed to learn worship from her instead.
Swing of rhythm from winter bleary
to appealing chords of change
in April's nibbling nudge of growth
to lance clay earth - a listless shield
Shafts of sun, filling voids, to starch
the landscape clean
April rains restore sponge dry ground
wet drops that hang on branches
like small crystal
Carpeted loops of spring bluebells below
lift whispered worries
pert cupped flowers worth praising
signs renewal
like the world that catches on to truth
Tucked in new warmth,
tree buds open
eyelids of green
an unhurried arrival
like promises
accepted
by April's idleness
sweet potion
availed
in the muddy spin
of spring
ignited
Poem composed: April 12, 2021
Revised April 6, 2023
Faraway Footsteps
How present
This past
Called memory
Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way
So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished sound
Is so remembered
Stepping from stove to table
Her laboring hands
Hefting the pressure cooker
Laden with steam softened cracked wheat
Barely eatable
That day's nourishment
Weighing upon
Forever toiling legs
Cushioned by sheepskin slippers
Whispering their shuffled prayer
I care
Generously ladled
Chew-your-brain-loose grains
Fit for health
Unfit for a kid
Layered my stomach
Fortified my heart
Prepped me abler
To gather reverie
So dear
Then
There was the sound
So ethereal
Heavenly I was told
Of bare feet
Curling the once-a-day-vacuumed
Pride and joy carpet of sage green wool
Replacing recently vanquished
Throw rug jigsaw mess
My early youth played upon
Our palace place
The living room
Scrunching pleasures
Toes lapping up that carpet
Dad's feet
Awful specimens
Calloused of years hard labor
Mother's feet
Preserved with nightly hot water soaks
Epson salts
When we could afford it
Worthy of pedicure
Never afforded
Me
Always wore my socks
Heavy wool
Darned when worn spots
Yelled loud enough
Mixed colors
When necessary
Yet always comfy
Homey
Loving covers
For footsteps
Unaware of the journey ahead
When steps would have to become strides
Leaps
Bounds
And eventually
Idleness
So present
These footfalls of then
Becoming echoes
Foreshadowing paces to come
When a once stubborn child
Needed to listen carefully
Or miss the lessons
Still offered today
From faraway footsteps
Passing near by
Drench me, O God;
pour upon me the excess of the heavens!
Drown me in the blood of the clouds,
and I will fight for my country,
fight for my brothers;
fight to be worthy
of your love and your creation -
and the warrior-poets of old will be proud.
I know how to live,
to deserve the cleansing rain.
I know how to write,
and I'm learning how to fight.
But bless me with nature's sweet shower,
and I'll be like no other.
Between three and four years later,
and reading the last makes me cringe -
I do believe I'll try again.
"O God" became godless, natural sky.
"I will fight for my country" became
I will scowl a little less,
smile just a little more,
as I remember that dream now dead.
"Your love and your creation" became
the love of one I don't believe is there -
worthy of my creation being anything more than luck,
by another myth, legend, deity that never was.
"The warrior-poets of old will be proud" became
maybe the will and the writing will be enough
to assuage my forced idleness, my vitriol;
my joy at the thought of impending escape.
"I'm learning how to fight" became
they taught me how, as well as to hate.
"I'll be like no other" became
I'm no more in valiant deed, in fact less,
than so very many.
Now if I do say so myself, that's better,
or at the very least more accurate, up to date -
but I don't think that's all there is in me.
"I don't drink" became
"I drink for flavor", became "I drink".
Unknowing exuberance became knowing exhaustion,
hunger for a greater purpose became
an unprecedented yearning for the lesser.
Energy intended for discipline, strength, became
fire funneled into frustration,
ardor affixed on anger.
From one to another, such a seamless step;
but from that to another,
or even back to one,
such the strenuous sojourn.
First, I would dine on a bowl of sunshine
To spark my day and give
the energy I would surely need.
Next, a dish of work would suffice
To save me from idleness and drive me
To do something a little worthwhile.
Then, I’d have a serving of rest--
A time to meditate or reflect
Before, or even after, a day of work.
I would pick each letter of each word
With my fingers, savor it, turn it
In my mouth with my tongue,
Feel how it melts or crumbles,
Taste the subtle differences in flavor,
And then down everything
With a half-empty cup, oh no,
A half-full cup, rather, of optimism.
If I didn’t have these for breakfast,
I wouldn’t be able to carry my feet
To the door; I’d just stay at home,
Do nothing while the world passes me by.
I’d be sluggish and useless because
Sunshine is energy,
Work is a reason for living,
Rest is contentment,
And optimism is that wonderful feeling
That somehow things will turn out right….
And bright.
November 12, 2024
Baguio City
To understand the lurking fog of melancholy,
We must dissect and examine every piece,
We must study every nuance,
every layer, every cause, every feeling,
to find the source of all its power,
to discover where the sorry sadness begins.
The root of melancholy lies within
it is an emotion, an interpretation,
an attitude, not a cause unto itself.
It is a malady self-inflicted, not an infection caught.
Therein lies the prevention remedy and cure, yourself.
Idleness, boredom and self-absorption
breeds melancholy within the soul.
It enters and festers in still, stale, stagnant waters
Not within the rivers, lakes, nor seas in motion.
Business, friendliness, engagement and creativity
keep the lurking fog of melancholy at bay, well away.
I feel it to a small extent - a little tinge of it -
those times I hear about
friends going on vacations to fun exotic places;
friends of mine receiving special presents from their husbands;
women I have known for ages getting plastic surgeries,
losing weight, and looking now like models;
Anyone who does not feel a tinge of jealousy
toward those who are receiving the very thing
one is longing for in one’s own life
I think would not be human!
But most of us can rise above the tinge of jealousy.
All of us are gifted in one way or another.
We need to have security in who we are,
and gratefulness for all the gifts uniquely ours!
Most likely, those whose good fortune we might covet
are looking back at someone else with a tinge of jealousy.
Nobody has everything they want!
We cannot know the many facets of a person’s soul -
their hidden insecurities, their dreams left unfulfilled.
Maybe there exist a few on a higher plane
with not a jot of jealousy inhabiting their heart.
Until we reach that higher plane,
We need to be as happy as we can be.
Congratulate successes of your peers.
Swallow any little bitterness and know. . .
with hard work, you can achieve successes in your life.
Imagine your dream and go for it!
That thing which is of the uttermost importance
will be the thing for which you ought to strive.
What drives you? What brings you the most joy?
Once you’ve answered those few questions,
take stock of your own life.
Are you doing all you can, despite even facing
possible hardships in your current situation?
Don’t sit back and daydream.
Force a smile if you have to.
Be happy for life’s winners.
Envision a dream that is attainable for you;
work for it, being grateful all the while
for the talents you already have.
Those with low esteem or prone to idleness and greed
will not want to do the needful things.
They will feel the tinge of jealousy; then let it fester.
Growing and growing, it will manifest itself
in acts of hideous deceit, or worse,
jealousy can lead to murder and revenge.
It happens all the time,
for it’s the root of nearly every crime!
Breathe. . . and let out jealousy.
Feeling jealous means that you are human,
but never go beyond the tinge of it!
100 Year's from now
Stardate 1984 no 1 could have foreseen
What the future held
When the computer's and technology we built
Began to out think the programmer's
And we were all addicted totally under it's influence
Resistance was futile we were defenseless
Without access to the mainframes
From whence our connectivity came
And we only had ourselves to blame
Sent back to the dark age's
2 many a year had passed since
We used hard copy
All knowledge was tied up in a computer interface
And was permanently erased
If the human race was to survive
We needed redemption
We had to place our trust in the very same people
Who simultaneously created our downfall
Rebuild , rethink
Learn from our mistakes
And start afresh
Open and inclusive
For the benefit of everyone
Because the epicenter of the storm
Was created by fazing out the usefulness of humans
To be replaced by robot's and computer's
Idleness and a sense of worth
Gave birth to a dearth of displacement
And slothfulness and waste
That did not dissipate
Passiveness became the order of the day
A breeding ground of woe
Something the computer's never knew
And that is how the revolt started
In part
100 year's from now
The fight back begins
And only the history books will tell
100 year's from then
If we succeeded
Or were struck from the record
Back to hunter gatherers
Or we we went beyond the moon
7th June 2018
For the Poetry Contest
Of Brian Wavy
100 years from now
January 19 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Exodus 5-7
Key Verse – Exodus 5:1 … Thus saith the LORD God of Israel, Let my people go, that they may hold a feast unto me in the wilderness.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FEAST HOLDER
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, demanding for my best sacrifice
Thank You for enabling me to work with Your mercies that suffice
So I can overcome idleness and unworthy tiring exercise
As my tasks You bless with Your guided decisions so wise.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, designing for me plans of perfect beauty
Thank You for accompanying me to walk along Your deliverance-security
So I can go by Your ways’ serving opportunity
As my feet stay in Your will’s protective duty.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, driving me toward heavenly treasures
Thank You for making me win through Your grace, despite pressures
So I can enjoy freely in Your covenant that insures
As my pilgrimage You maximize midst granted divine pleasures.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, directing me seek You against anguish
Thank You for causing me to trust You midst temptation to languish
So I can listen to Your voice I must not fail to distinguish
As my soul leans on Your charging might no one can extinguish.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, dressing me up in Your commandment
Thank You for reminding me to appreciate Your wondrous heart-engagement
So I can learn from Your good and great judgment
As my spirit rests in Your care, comfort and contentment.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, declaring to me life-changing miracle
Thank You for teaching me Your immutable oracle
So I can stand by Your tests and trials upon faith-fortifying pinnacle
As my body loathes the stench of carnality-contaminated fleshly tabernacle.
Lord God, You are my feast Holder, digging for me waters of provisions
Thank You for lifting me up unto Your satisfying portion
So I can drink from Your abounding filling rations
As my sins to You confess, grateful that You forgive my transgressions.
January 19, 2023
Help me, my Lord; deliver me from slothfulness
Discipline me while leading me toward Your direction
Awaken my selfishness, warning me against idleness
So I can bear fruit by Your bountiful provision.
Help me, my Lord; uphold my commitment
Train me while enabling me to work in Your ministry
Appraise my labor by Your encouraging assessment
So I can serve well in Your holiness’ infantry.
Help* me, my Lord; revive my spirit by Your might
Touch me while ushering me to Your grace
Control my everything by Your love wherein I delight
So I can obey You, devoid of defiance trace.
*Psalm 109:26 Help me, O LORD my God: O save me according to thy mercy.
April 20, 2019