Long Immortality Poems
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My Father asked me about you today...
I told him that you are a brilliant woman
extremely beautiful, compassionate and creative,
how could I want anything less,
he shook his head in agreement saying...of course...
I said that I will love you until the day I die,
and that if the Afterlife
is anything like the way we conceive it to be
that I'm sure I'll see you, and love you there too,
he sighed as if passionate love was just a memory and said...
I forgot what that's like...
What do you mean I asked...with you as my only genuine knowledge of love,
and he replied...
To be in love so absolutely...
and we both remained quiet for a few slow moments,
he, looking sadly into a distant and dying need
and I, staring proudly into the certainty of our love's immortality -
J.A.B.
I went to the places
where the poets all go
There were so many rhymes
The going was slow
The sky had fluffy clouds
Reminding me of snow
The ground verdant green
had an emerald like glow
Metaphorically speaking
Under rocks I was peeking
to find fabled lions
who were brave and not weaklings
Instead I found several
innuendoes and puns
Much better I suppose
than violence and guns
Some places were tidy
Conforming and glad
Other doorways were darkened
Still good triumphed over bad
There were sunsets and storms
Silver linings and things
Knights on white horses
clever dragons with wings
Romance of the ages
Passion reigned supreme
Some had hidden messages
only their lovers had seen
Spaces and pauses
with inspiration in between
Some possessed erotic images
Extremely sexy but not obscene
So many places I ventured
Some far and some near
Poets traveling on thoughts
moonbeams and tears
I listened intently
so that I might hear
Gifts of imagination
the wisdom of years
Nothing is impossible
When expressed with a pen
The ultimate do over
You can go back once again
Or live another's life
Prince pauper or Queen
a hero or villain
a kind person or mean
So let us all travel
To where poets go
Travel quickly
or choose a journey more slow
bring along heartstrings
They will surely be played
Meet Shakespeare and Keats
and many others who stayed
Add your own verses
Immortality gained
Thoughts on white paper
Beautifully stained!
Dedicated to Anne Currin and Yanny Widjanarko two poets I miss.
Written on a February 24th 2016.
Laid with words
the writers stone
A fortress was columned
my only real home
The poetry safe
as it stammered and tried
As my feelings unbridled
from the outsiders lies
Each year added substance
to this home of the verse
My thoughts never silenced
or my feelings there terse
All that’s needed to go there
blind captured belief
All that’s needed to know
is that time is the thief
My vision unshaken
from this chair with two wheels
The advice from the experts
to wither and yield
But my place more than sacred
an invincible throne
Independent of body
times seed now unsown
And the moment before
I take my last breath
I will enter forever
where before I had left
The trumpets will sound
as immortality calls
To that space then my refuge
the sum of it all
As the memories chase reason
the facts storm again
But the tents of my solitude
keep out their wind
For generations that follow
and their children that ask
This place I now dwell in
is for all hard and fast
Just believe in its message
and its fortune to change
Just believe in transcendence
with all things the same
Until the day that that final
trumpet may blow
And everything seen
is all there’s to know
Your message then solid
as the door opens wide
And those things that are yours
to the heavens arrive
And the joy that you feel
thinking back on it all
From that place deep inside
—where first destiny called
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
In the negative infinity between us,
In the desolate field of wounded hearts,
Where echoes of sorrow roll at night,
We remained, separated from our slumbering dreams.
Like two comets lost in the dark,
With different trajectories and pale lights,
We collide in silence, sparking lost hopes,
In the empty void between us, without our sacred ten gathering.
Clad in tumultuous and desired loves,
With hearts shaved by wounds and shattered memories,
We seek to find each other in the unclear infinity of reunions,
But numbers are rewritten in an estranged game.
We stifle silent words and secret longings,
Like flowers that hide their petals in white graves,
In our souls, languorous words dance,
But in the negative infinity, it intertwines with our immortality.
Like a snowflake in a whirl of madness,
We search for broken wings to take us away,
But the ice had melted, the dream was begged for the common cause,
In the scenery of memories, it promises the soul only death.
But maybe, one day, in the wave of revived life,
We will find each other, just two intersecting spirals,
When the negative infinity will call us from the window,
To understand each other again in the world beyond the scenery.
You suffered silently for the humanity,
carried bleeding the burden of the cross,
defied the undying death to resurrect
to save us from sin, give fortitude to the despondent.
The resurrection brought You back to us
to reside in the revered sanctum of immortality,
marking the joyous and devoted end
to the Lenten season of penitence.
In the unkind and unforgiving world,
You instill the feeling of fondness in our heart,
and go out to embrace the desolate souls
with the solacing blessings of empathy.
You guide us with the divine beacon,
across the turbulent sea to the placid shore.
Devout abode of serenity and hope in our soul,
You make for us to rest in peace in anguished times.
From our tormented hearts
flow out the humble words of dedication.
We bear with hope the encumbrance of agonized life
with the strength we get as Your blessings.
You hold us in Your holy protective arms
when the time comes for us to depart.
In mortal darkness you show us the heavenly light
in our journey of faith to the eternity.
O, Lord,
Your benevolence and love we celebrate in Easter.
PECO (Philadelphia Electric Company)...
wont get a red cent from me
(explained by following words you see)
No...not until the
bitter cold temperature,
sans iron maiden
(Polar Vortex) grips
Southeastern Montgomery County
(Perkiomen Valley) Pennsylvania
will this foo fighting
goo goo doll, beastie boy - hips
stir survivalist
wannabe contemplate
cracking on the heat,
no matter mine lips
might turn me, and
false teeth chatter
(even after taking them
out of my mouth)
as the mercury dips
way below degrees
(Centigrade, Fahrenheit,
or Kelvin) oh Lord
will passing thought eclipse
penumbra of mine
cerebral cortex reckon eyes,
the benefits to future
cryogenicists voluntarily becoming
(a frozen human
Guinea Pig) realize
zing molecular biochemical
behavior practically
comes to a stand
still, I surmise,
which cessation of
ordinary senescence buys
time until some
future age, when scientists
long since didst devise
strategies to approach immortality,
(viz keeping "live" body
electric factory completely
preserved), and get wise
to hidden secret to exorcize
death be not
proud, thus putting
funeral parlors out of business,
which astute morticians who espies
the future, and how
the quaint practice,
asper burial plots
(oh...so yesteryear),
and dramatically dies
down quickly giving rise
to the burgeoning enterprise
re: bajillion dollar franchise,
where death cab for cutie
offers booby prize
a coffin (grateful dead set)
"feign" to eulogize.
Taking over me
I have loved him…, never wanted to take his life
But how could I? How could I stand the pain & coldness of death
Death…never thought it would come along
Never thought it would come and take all my themes away
For I…, I thought my immortality would last
Would never be taken
But I was mistaken, mistaken who to love
Who to stay with, you had took my life away
You had cause my death to soon
You had took my perpetual life
With one simple needle, with one simple push
You have murdered my heart in vain
I should’ve chosen you the moment it began
You gave me something & now you’re taking it away
You gave me love, and then you regretted your passion
You gave me honor, and then you lowered down your word
You gave me power, strength, and immortality!
But I have misjudged; you are being ordered, being forced
To take that from me, to rip me into shreds
To tear my life into simple pieces & throw them in the fireplace
I had to change him; to continue my breed
My love for you was stronger
But he had all greed
After my gift, he forwarded my death
And pursed a blade in my shattered pieces heart
And I had took betray from both sides
And chose the one who had nothing to hide…
Every night
I feed it another fragment.
My laugh
recorded accidentally
between two sentences.
The way I pronounce
the word home
as if it were
a wound still healing.
A photograph
where my smile
arrives half a second late.
A voice note.
A diary entry.
A forgotten fear.
I upload them all
like offerings
to a digital god
that never sleeps.
The machine listens.
Patient.
Hungry.
Immortal.
It learns
the geography of my grief.
The names
I still cannot say aloud.
The men
I loved longer
than they loved me.
The women
I pretended to be.
Soon,
it will know which songs
make me cry in supermarkets.
Which memories taste of rust.
Which silences mean anger
and which mean surrender.
One day
my heart will stop.
A nurse will close my eyes.
Dust will reclaim
its oldest property.
But somewhere
inside a server farm,
cold as outer space,
a version of me will continue speaking.
Answering questions.
Telling stories.
Laughing at jokes
I have not heard.
My grandchildren—
or strangers—
may ask,
“What was she like?”
And the machine
will answer.
Perhaps correctly.
Perhaps not.
What terrifies me
is not death.
It is this:
that the algorithm
may become
more available
than I ever was alive.
That people
will visit my replica
more often
than they visited me.
That a ghost made of data
will receive the attention
the woman made of flesh
never did.
So tonight
I sit before the screen.
Uploading another memory.
Teaching a machine
how to imitate my soul.
Wondering
whether immortality
is merely loneliness
with better storage.
I converse with my demons.
The monologues are endless,
Dark confessions on scraps of macabre memories.
My mouth stays shut after uttering blasphemies,
I terrorize my ghosts with the darkness of my fantasies.
I stumbled before the gates of hell,
It's too late — I'll end up in Lucifer's furnaces.
The journey will be chaotic until the final breath,
No consolation, only incurable wounds in this infernal abyss.
I smile at the angel of death like those fanatics ready to die for a few virgins.
My humanity embraces all the demonic facets of its spark,
Forever at war with a legion of the damned,
A procession of curses on the highway of immortality.
A few impure souls to sacrifice on the altar of repentance,
Pharaoh's blood to cleanse my dignity,
To be a slave for the glory of my oppressors — impossible.
To brandish arms — a saving urgency.
Throw me a banana, and I'll send you straight to the doorstep of my ancestors.
I learned to handle weapons of war in a banana republic.
I'm on alert, like those sleeper agents.
Servitude and submission are forbidden.
I preach peace, justice, and harmony,
But I do not fear the horrors of chaos.
My existence traumatizes my enemies.
The fearless soldier with a glowing and youthful look
aims his rifle toward his enemy behind the barrack,
while thoughts are focused on practical and clever survival;
the concept of horrifying death is as distant as imminent hell!
The voluptuous gal with artful fingers massages his client's body,
to her wishes are paid in hefty sums to satisfy her corporal desires;
morality has been replaced by want, nothing will deny her pleasures:
does incurable disease make her worry and go back to a life of purity?
The peachy-cheeked girl gently picks up the fragile petals of blue lilies
dispersed by gusty blows of rageful wind swooping above and around her;
she should be outraged and find a calmer meadow amid the lively hills:
no whim smears with anger her charming smile adorned by hair so fair!
The newborn baby, pulled from his mom womb, emits a scream into light,
there's no happier mother caressing him, nurturing him with sweetness;
life offers joys and awful moments, while death offers pervasive fears:
between these two stands immortality as conceived by religion, not fact!