Long Immortal Poems
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Before my flowing, poetic pen is hushed in Quietus,
And I have reached my journey's end with folded hands;
Departed into my dreamless sleep beneath violets,
Let me write one everlasting, eternal, immortal verse;
Of the ravaged garden of my life.
I want to hear a bird song when I quietly glide away,
With a sigh, I will lay my pale form down peacefully;
I have willed my Keepsakes and my musing poems,
The Angel of death, will take my hand into another realm;
And the drums of time will cease.
Oh, it has been a life full of happiness entwined with sad,
I have travelled many different roads to get to Tranquillity;
The chapters of my life are full of the dead and undead,
Memories of childhood, family, friends and pets I loved;
The scars of life stab my soul.
I do not fear death and I am ready to go through the gate,
But I will miss nature, the woods and the waters moving;
And as I walk the silent passage alone to my eternal night,
Think of me as being set free and soaring high up above;
I lived a life weather-stained with tears.
Leaving life is something we all must do; it is written,
I was held by a thread in this earthly realm until that last gasp;
Now, all I know is the peacefulness of a leafy tree above,
Drifting blue clouds and rain falling gently on my resting place;
I was a shadow on the wall of time.
Do not weep over my eternal grave heartbroken my dears,
I have followed the beautiful Angels footsteps to heaven;
My poetry is timeless, ageless, and will always remain,
I have shed this earth bound life and I am a butterfly set free;
I drank from the deep blue cup of life.
So come, dear hearts and plant some pretty flowers in Spring,
I am at last united with all my beloved who have gone before;
Touch my name and remember me for my beauty,
And although my life was but a whisper, I loved every moment;
Now, I exist in another realm.
____________________
August 26, 2015
Poetry/Epic/'Before My Pen is Hushed'
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1216-704-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into FGI Blog Special - Epic
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
My lady of the night, you light my soul with Vampyre passion,
long I have walked alone from the delights of your Vampyre love.
Now, once more, the night lives with your embraces.
Gone now the melancholy song of my nights,
once more the night is alive with sensual promise,
I feel as if my heart and soul are home again,
holding you close, I know once more the joy of a beating heart.
My Kah Vah Teh, my lady of the night, sing now with me our song,
that song which ever joins us in love's sweet bliss.
The promise of our nights shall once again sing,
come into my arms again and may our night hearts sing in majesty,
let the night be alive with our love, I am again your Shadrach Hah ....
..... Sire, as I breathe this thin night air
And hear the songs upon the wind,
I beckon once more for you,
Your fingers upon my face
as your lips caress once more
The lines of silken skin that I hold bare
For you to take your fill .....
..... Come close to me this midnight, dark,
Enfold me in your arms,
so once more we may walk as one,
Into the aeons of immortal love.
I hear the songs of gentle love
and dance with you once more,
Come close to me, my dark desire,
let us dance again to the songs
that only immortal love can sing .....
..... Our harmonies of love sing into the night,
Are we but two silhouettes against the moon
or are we a fire of desire, emblazoned across night's landscape?
We are the desire of all love's passions,
from the core we join in primal passion as our fire grows.
We become an immortal flame,
a sensual dance of the night's longing.
Oh my beloved, what joy sublime,
caressing once more the temple of my lady of the night.
Your kisses fanning the flame of my complete passion,
lifting my desires to a spiritual plain.
In the night's embrace, together,
we are where we belong .....
..... Silver moon to guide us this night
And the essence of your being upon my lips...
My beloved! How complete are we in this moment!
Your pale skin glowing in this glorious night!
Raven dark your eyes as they fall upon me
And at this moment the universe is witness
Of the glory of a life, a love, immortal!
My vampire knight... I will behold you
Into infinity of immortal time and space!
To Be Continued..........
A Collaboration By,
Morgana VientoLameculos.
&
Michael .P. Clarke.
Vampire: Wampyre Love Poetry Series.
beautification of painted imageries)
Like these broken shadows spread on the floor of my father's tattered room,
Like those weeping spirits by the corner of my mother's excited kitchen singing,
The sky wept in the absence of those beds allocated to the sun of its glories.
Thousand mouths wagged at the dogs for sighting another ghost in the heart of the church that must be hidden at night. we are ourselves the mirror of fantasy handed over to the priest that knows whole lots of women's nakedness,
Let's fire out memories of lost heritages.
"This will cure your madness and gives you eternal life in Christ Jesus" they said "for Chinese Alchemist will come again with a precious gold made by this liquid. we'll drink from it fountain of lost want,
The sand we counted, the priest said It was for the body of the Holy Mary.
The stars we counted, he said it was for the body of Christ who resurrected with sins of the flesh and blood of the lamb.
When next you hear a preacher' mouth preaching ask him of Sodom and sinful Gomorrah before he tells you the truth is bitter.
Here are the eastern equivalent mastery philosopher's stone of creed and prayers before we were born to this clothed love world, mother told a tale of the mirror,
How they found the end in the end light,
How they searched for a way in a way;
But at the end, the clergy men deceived them and saw their prides gazing openly. We'll sit to listen to the pebble of the broken silence the priest will spread yet on another grave for Auntie Tabitha.
Flocks are the shepherd's prey as they lead them into hell of condemination.
We are ourselves the clothes we wear,
The clergy men had sipped the remains of our sanity and gave us insanity of lost. we are ourselves the stream of lines in our thoughts breaking the hun skylines. We believed all they said.
Remember, not all they said by the soil graveyard happen in heaven and hell.
I have been in heaven and tested hell and discovered we're given elixir of life by their lies to keep us following like faithful sheep tracking the greener bush.
You are what you believe and think is right.
We are not immortal but mortals, ashes.
No eternal life, no eternal youth, when we die, the records closed and the world become silent and silent covers all priest had told us with shadows.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent.
One morning I sat down with Ernie to explain English,
I know you're a mouse but that squeak can only go so far.
He looked up at me blinked and then bared his teeth,
I said I'll take that for a smile so let's get started.
Ernie, quit staring out that box car door at the scenery,
You'll never learn to talk the King's language that way.
This is no tiny feat for you so please pay attention,
He sat up on hind legs and truly seemed to listen.
I told him that I was a young vagabond train traveler,
And explained that he was the smallest hobo of all time.
So if he could just learn to speak he would become famous,
My tiny friend it's just a matter of adjusting vocal chords.
Remember that if I can mimic your squeaks than why not,
Why could you not imitate my simple gibberish stated?
My God, right then I could see he understood my point,
Ernie's eyes lit up and he proceeded to write hobo on wall.
Actually he chewed the letters into that wood for me to see,
I knew all creatures were intelligent but what a revelation.
My friend Ernie could write so how far from speak was he?
Was so amazed was almost afraid to ask him next question.
Still I asked him where all his intelligence came from?
He turned his back and curled his tail into a question mark.
Was then I knew that not only did he understand questions,
He was asking me what I thought made me so extra special.
That night he chewed some questions for me into that wall,
Why war? Why kill unborn humans? Why kill nature? Why?
There I was the glorious teacher with no definitive answers,
Yet now that I've grown older I've also grown a conscience.
So easy when young to think you are center and will not die,
Those immortal thoughts soon withering on flesh bone tree.
To think it took my dear tiny friend Ernie to wake me,
It is truly humbling to bow before wisdom of a mouse.
That next day Ernie and I just sat there watching scenery,
He atop my knee and I marveling at my wonderful friend.
This train we rode directly through American history,
Passing by old settlements and battlefields of sorrow.
He saw my pain that day and nuzzled each tear from my eyes,
Knowing useless deaths with no respect for nature lived on.
We would travel together after that as ocean ship stowaways,
Still I will finish telling of our train travels together.
To be continued!
© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
Let not the pain of death enter my body
I the Pharaoh, son of the gods
Here my wife, who is the daughter of the Nile
The daughter of Isis sits beside my throne,
Is she not beautiful?
I live and roam the abode of the gods,
In eternity I stay with the majesties
Of the immortal gods
Mortality has no hold of me
I alone carry the staff of Osiris,
Behold! I judge thy weight of the heart,
With that of the golden feather
Thoth that measures thy heart shall tell me of thy heart’s content.
If I find thy heart lighter than the feather;
And find thy honesty,
I shall let you enter the heaven of the gods and goddesses.
If not, then, a beast to devour thee, waits for the dishonest.
Know me by my throne, made of gold
I am cloth with ornaments made of jade and sapphire,
White silk of clothing, with jewels from faraway lands.
Anyone that dear look down upon me shall die
And those that despise me, shall fine their homes burned down,
with fires from heaven.
Who am I? I have asked thee
Look at Anubis, the son of Nephthys bringer of death.
Do you await him to bring me great sorrow?
Shall he warp me with a yard of cloth?
Shall I find peace in death and my fate be judge by him?
If so, I have a place among them.
My afterlife is in paradise, their awaits a bundle of joy
With music of the immortal, with harps, lutes, lyres
And servants to tend to my every need.
But even if I die, the weight of mine own heart, shall be as light as a feather.
For I know mine own honesty.
As I sail across the sandbank of Apophis,
I have my guide, Ra, the god of the sun to light my path
No monstrous serpent of chaos shall wreck his boat,
The boat in which, I am in.
So, I ask thee, traveler from the west
What is thy business with a god?
Look at my palace, is it not magnificent?
Has is not, the decoration and flowers that surpasses all human designs?
I have built these with rocks
Sands was the foundation of my legacy,
Shall all things compare to that of the past days?
I carry the burden of my glory, and yes, it is heavy.
But will such foundation as the sand be strong enough to hold against the tide?
Love is abiding that is true, but only in those who welcomes it.
My love for my beautiful wife, oh! How well have I been treated
With love from her is better than any pleasure a man can have.
Faithful to the gods or my wife? That I know not.
OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
...So why do we keep ghosts in here
when by the day many folks die?
Well, you see, it’s technology,
it tears them apart from the inside.
Since they are merely energy
all the fields from our gadgets and toys
scatter their essence all about,
it’s a fate free ghosts can’t avoid.
These ones here we were lucky to save,
and we need to find more all the time,
some go to heaven, others to hell,
each morn we know not what we’ll find!
Nearby is the mummy’s lair,
and it causes controversy,
some say that they shouldn’t be here,
that they are just dressed-up zombies.
Others claim it’s a magic thing,
which makes them a whole other clade,
I honestly don’t’ care that much,
the people come see them in spades.
Some were even Egyptian pharaohs,
though which, we’re not really sure,
professors have tried to talk to them,
to see what history they can learn.
Hollywood has rented them out
for their movies, and they pay so well,
sometimes they seem to try to speak,
though what they say, no one can tell.
Most people like to hear them moan,
like they did in the films of old,
did you know mummies really do that?
And if they catch you they’ll grab hold?
Sadly, they do not do much more.
We don’t see them often these days,
not many folks still mummify,
and the old ones have been grave-robbed,
in the wild they don’t survive.
Keeping them stocked up with linen
makes all the zookeeper’s tired,
but let’s down to the big show,
the place where we keep the vampires.
Now these guys are a unique case,
since they’re not critters, but our guests,
they’re sentient like human beings,
to lock them would be to oppress.
We build them big apartments here,
with a back-room facing the zoo,
we pay them to visit with folks,
and tell lots of stories to you.
Since vampires are immortal
so many great tales can they share,
want to know how Jesus Christ died?
Well our guy Julius was there!
They can leave any time of course,
some of them even punch the clock.
Wilhelm is a security guard,
walks the night shift like any cop.
Some thing, but won’t he feed on folks?
It hasn’t been that was for years,
since transfusions and blood banks came
there has been no reason to fear.
They no longer had to kill people,
staying alive didn’t mean murder,
they’d get their pints, go on their way,
no reason to bite folks or disturb...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
I suppose I should have been satisfied
with the first letter: I mean, just how
often does the Almighty write to us?
Not since He did it on stone, I suppose.
But I am human and so rarely content--
then too, I still had so many questions,
like why must children suffer cruelty or
deathly ills-- and why are the aged so
often forgotten, ignored, neglected?
Why do so many hunger for vengeance
while others thirst for a drop of love?
Before the act is always the thought--
so why do we lessen the other, turn
him into an animal, some predator
to be feared and hunted to extinction?
And why do we peacock ourselves
with plumes of ego and pride, then
go strutting into the world like
petty kings, wood-hearted queens?
And always, always, we are we less
than we could be, sad thin shadows
of that person we know could, and
should walk free on the sun-lit earth?
I wrote this unmailed letter knowing
He would read the words before I
could put them down-- but I did
not expect an answer... so when I
found another letter slipped under
my door, this too written in a hand
of unearthly beauty, I gasped with
guilt and fear: was I too greedy and
just foolish to want to know the
Mind of God: why He made us
the way we are, what He wants
from us, of us, for us? Now I
began trembling, my fearful heart
pounding like it would burst open!
Still, I opened the letter and read:
"I really am breaking all my own
rules in writing you again, and
I'm not sure why-- yes, I
don't always know my
own mind-- I told you all
a long time ago you
were made in My image--
I suppose I am intrigued,
for the answers you seek
have been sought always,
throughout time, ever really
since I put that immortal part
of you in your ancestors, and
so turned animal into human,
and instinct into choice....
I gave your species
everything needed:
reason, imagination,
speech, and my
greatest gift-- love
strong enough to
transcend even time.
And what did humans
do with these wonders?
You waged war endlessly
and oppressed the weak,
breaking them as though
they were clay pots and
not my beloved children.
So I sent prophets to warn
you to choose light before
the dark ate your souls.
I even sent my only son
to lead you home, but
you killed him-- and you
wonder why life is hard?"
As always,
faithfully yours,
God
An invisible string was created from the beginning of time,
it is wound around my horn, and bound to your heart
Invincible.
Each time your heart beats, you tug at this string,
drawing me closer to you
You are unaware of this, I love you
yet I fear and resist you, dear Lady
Not only have you captivated me, but my fate is in your hands
I am the last Unicorn in existence
Kings and nobles desire me for my horn,
for it can purify poisoned wells
and they know only you have power over me
Sweet virgin, all I ask is
one song to enchant my ears
one glimpse of your precious smile
one kiss from your ruby lips
one whiff from your perfumed dress
...a single stroke from your gentle hands
and I shall dream of you forever
Betray me not please by handing me to the men
Let me lay my horned head on your lap even just once…
then set me free
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You are Testing me my rear precious unicorn,
every King has offered more than our beauty holds.
Unfold I will hide with you in a placed to protect us from every face.
Avoiding your poisonous horn, in which I fail to feed my soul with your purity.
I will move you from this revolution in which has troubled the monarchy.
Medieval strings of power to catch you~ your the last of your kind.
My Unicorn you are the medicine, the symbol ones seeks to rule darkness.
With passion I hold a belief that your horn can heal illness,
your strength will carry on.
Every time you returned to drink the waters of a no man's paradise,
I reach out to touch your radiance once a year.
Your horn can cure plague, rage, rabies, fever's and more!
Become my host let me wear you in this mystical amulet.
I will wear you as my jewelry while you lay your head on my lap.
My Unicorn of purity, I will never tell the ingredient and secrets we share,
as we got lost in each others stare.
I will ride with you and never betray your existence.
Together we will gather the fresh fruit and CORN~
My precious unicorn my virginity is your dignity.
Bathe with me throughout my immortal long and healthy life.
I'll sing you a song good night.
Ali-corn you are the weight in gold, all emperors, will fall at my feet.
One kiss with my red ruby lips!
I "guarantee" you a gift only we both see.
"If you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you!"
**a collaboration with pd ^_^!
Written: April 24, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tread of life
a strand of hair
disassociation
desolation devastation
floribunda flapdoodle
constantly hearing
Voices...
whispering
screaming,
spread their
ivory wings,
fly
in velveteen
sky
Constantly...
berating,
damaging
disparaging
mentally...
unseen torment
pretending
drowning in
unfillable chasm
Trauma...
suppressing
swallowing
existence
dripping with shadows...
When casting spells
seeking peace
amid war
turn off TVs
keep radios hushed
lure of
loathy
illusion
draped in earthy
petrichor shade
splendidly
sculpted from
stardust
bereft of insignia or emblem...
Opus headline
in magnetic bowl
shredded
with a spark
burned in full
anoint ash
on forehead
As Peace Symbol
Then
with a broken gun
on windowsill
east-facing muzzle
align seven shots
heart-shaped trigger guard
shadows shouldn't touch
Then
stir three dove wings
into hot milk
must be flawless
add three plastic
army men
whirlwind
madness
let it cool down &
stir with
olive branch
Dump sharp knife out
sun-facing blade
back spell your name
five times
then step inside &
close the door
etched in
immortal art
of humanity.