Long In some way Poems

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Premium Member Aha Eureka

Remember when that flash of insight
last self-ignited in your expectant thoughts
blasting away the fog of uncertainty, complexity and doubt.
A sudden aha Eureka answer, pure, simple, so succinct, beautiful.
To some this flash of aha is called duration, or a blink. insight, acumen, Eureka!

But, my friend, how, why, when, where, do these Aha moments arise?
Can we conger up more for ourselves, fill a treasure cheat with insights?
Or is this quest a waste of time, as no treasure map exits. But does it? 
Can we ever know with what, and how, and when to cast the magic wand?
Does our search for meaning, inquiries lay the foundation?
Can we prepare the way ahead in some way or other?
Think back, my friend, did these gems 
always spring up unexpectedly, and what occurred beforehand?

These aha Euekas cannot be scheduled or delayed, 
cannot be snuck-up on, snared nor detected, 
cannot be forced out nor guaranteed to appear.
Euekas are not rewards for hard work, perhaps the opposite is true.
How often does lazy and shallow wader get the creative rewards.
Chance is never fair in its rewards for hard work.

Often, an Aha taps us on the shoulder, we are least expecting it, 
out of the blue, saying: "Look at Me. Look at Me". 
When gobbled up with glee, it washes over and transforms us. 
We are never be the same. It makes our day.
Does begging the question, ignoring the answers laid out
make it pop up from the soup into an inquiring mind?
Or does it appear when we raise questions to that have already been answered well?
Does it appear when we thin-slice the book to separate the leaves?
Often mistakes and errors have led to great breakthroughs
like penicillin, radioactivity, the color mauve and plastics.
What does this mean to you and your Aha Eureka pot of gold?
Should we be less careful, more observant for the unusual?

The Aha Eureka is a fleeting feeling, easily lost in the blink of an eye,
rampant, capricious, imperceptible, unbounded, elusive
like seeing something in the corner of the eye at dusk,
if you look straight at it, it's gone, look back again, it's there again.
For me it can be a matter of serendipity.
The more I see, the more I do, the more I explore, the more hits are triggered.
Many total restarts from scratch, often helps.
But, for me the one simple things
that works is lay me down to rest,
and to sleep on it!


Red Eyes and Sinister Looks

Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light, 
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head, 
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums 
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.
Form: Narrative

Bullies

Bullies are the politics of this universal world
who enjoy the smell of war inflicting endless pain
Who put others down in the presence of others
leaving you to bleed out stranded in the rain 

Bullies only bully for they refuse to understand 
what it's like to go through something and fail 
Through choices they made leading up to that point 
leaving them a drift in the wilderness to sail 

Bullies attack you with broken hearts caused by
how they were brought up as no one really gave 
Them discipline to teach them without abuse to know 
the dangers of creating a political wave 

Bullies will try and make you change the way
you think and feel about opinions regarding you 
The most hateful words without any description 
of explaining why they feel those words are true

Bullies are like wolves some as wild as bears
animals that are hungry always looking to feast 
Off the people who they see as weak or vulnerable
as if your a lifeless person who has already been deceased

Bullies think that their power is beyond any person who
is trying to progress and move forward to make 
A better life for themselves so others can see that
it isn't impossible to turn from a past or present mistake 

Bulllies walk with pride in the seeds that they sow 
apon others when really they are the ones that 
Say you are ugly, no good, uneducated, mind twisted,
a wanna be thug, you're race or call you fat

Friends a bully is a person who has a life like you
though they try to believe they are better in some way
Yet they don't realize that karma really does exist 
which will come back on their life somehow one day 

Let no words from a political bully bother you for 
their words are meaningless with nothing but hate
Which is something we as people shouldn't let at all be
a self label from others trying to predict you're own fate 

Bullies be prepared shame on all of you that go
around thinking you're all that with no good news to share
Being the one who doesn't take life seriously or simply
become grown to the point that you really don't care

About what you say to others or how you treat them at times
regardless of anything you choose to do or claim to speak 
Words that are foul with judgement that seems so everlasting 
towards people who are really strong who you only think are weak.


Written By: Joseph Darryl Boca

Premium Member Touching An Audience Thoughts On Creating

As Artists Touching an Audience - Thoughts on Creating


Beyond the full experiencing and aims of the creative process in all genres, there are the results, the “made” productions, the works, ready to be sent 
out there
from the self 
to touch other people in some (any) way of giving, 

the created work
presented

to affect the anyone in those moments 
of being-in-audience 
 to an artwork (In the perceiving and receiving of it) 
to any degree.

As writers, musicians, actors, artists, we are gifted through 
the creative process: through 
our Felt involvement 
from onset to culmination of the created works

And also when we, too, pause outside artworks,
as with all perceptions, 
to examine and receive, to be touched in some way: 
sensually, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, creatively…

Nearly always, then, we make a  judgement

about whether we Like what we perceive
 (in all of life as well) in an artist’s composition — 
Here
Is the work we have met with for a time 
and let reach us…

No matter how briefly, the created work 
has thus gone from being some “thing” 
To being an Experience.

This accounts, I think, for why artists of all genres 
feel more than an ownership of “products” about the works done. 
 Like a god-parent might, we 
artists invest our whole being into 
shaping works 
to the full completion of their inspiration.  
And, then, (as a person does for a fostered one or offspring)
 we have a bond…with a desire to follow the path and reception
of our works In the world beyond us.

Our created works poise apart from us…
very like living things…

Lost works are grieved …Others
Also often pass long periods asleep, away 
from any receiving audience, even from us, the creators…
Perhaps going forgotten;
Some envisioned works crafted into reality 
may return to a collection of once unfulfilled dreams,
 which do startle if they eventually wander
 out from dark corners and curled pages.

They may have stayed in sleep…to 
serendipitously rise for notice in a rebirth

Like garden perennials  signaled to stand 
in Spring surprise…in a new season of a gifting presentation.

—————————————————————————
Experimental prose-poetry
also an “Address of Poetry” blog, PoetrySoup
(I give 2nd Apologies to Aristotle for this :-)
(c) sally young eslinger 3/10/22
Thanks be to God

Sorry If I Sound Desperate

I’m at the bar in Havasu
I thought I was through with you…
Guess I wasn’t after all
Lonely and wishing I could cuddle you wild
Sorry that I have been down and about 
I miss you tremendously no doubt
I know I sound desperate
I need to quit it...just a bit…

Maybe, baby,
You and I are meant to be; well, possibly 
It could happen, you see?
Maybe, baby,
You and I could be free
I want to set you free from captivity
Companion, I must be crazy…

How you held me last night…
Took away my midnight fright
How you fulfilled my needs…
You shared with me your adoration seeds

I bred you with my authentic words of love
I have been entranced by bluebirds from above
Brainwashed by the MK Ultra lullabies…
Brainwashed by society’s downfallen lies

Unbrainwash me, my love…
My bittersweet darling of mine
Unbrainwash me, for I rove
Towards the end of times’ sign

Tainted by the torment of this difficult life
Fainted at His sight and lived through strife
Painted a picture of you and I in rainbow delight
I love you like a saint loves His scriptures tonight

Sorry if I sound desperate all day and night 
I guess meeting you was fate – our date felt right
It was meant to be, but being with me
Sounds great – it’s never too late to be free

Feeling the hate when I should be in love…
You handed me roses with prickly thorns
Thoughtlessly, I bled for the sake of love…
You could be an angel with devil horns

I suppose we were compatible in some way
Sorry if I sound desperate all night and day
Fading faith force-fed me with dreadfulness
You maintained faith within my soul of sadness

Murder my madness and mesmerize me with mere merriment
Memorized your forgiving face in the spacious, marvelous sky, I can’t deny
Sentiments sweetly shimmer anew with no hint of resentment
Immobilized by impairment of my heart’s hopefulness that won’t ever dry

Enduring in these hardships the best I can on this Earth
Endearment encourages me to engage in elevating mirth
Eternal exuberance embarks upon my engulfed mind of mysterious melody
My isolation is melting away like ice in the fire, a divine sunshine of serenity

I have been so desperately, so genuinely,
Looking for someone to be with sincerely
Well, I’m heading home now and baby, please know
That maybe we are a flawless match, a fabulous show


Shana and Shano Part Iii

“What…happened…to…me? What…ab…ab…”
Despite my new found breath, my speech was weak 
and lacking.

“Hush little one.” A soft spoken voice was heard 
though she did not move her mouth to say the
words.

“You are safe now. Ashtira is calm. You have
done what you were set to do in your quest.
Hush.”

I closed my eyes and let myself slip slowly 
to sleep. It felt wonderful to finally
relax.

When I woke up I felt better than I had in 
a lifetime. I slowly sat up and looked around.
Quiet.

When I saw the Ashtira River I smiled. The once violent
vengeful river was now the soothing, gentle brook that it
was once known as. 

When I looked down I gasped. My once
evergreen hunting dress was now a light sea-blue.
I knew.

I got up as a person on a mission. I ran and dove
into the water, unafraid of what might happen.
I could breath. 

I swam all the way to Lishon. When I came out 
of the river I noticed that the Noli were readying 
for battle.

I smiled slightly and went back into the river.
I sat serenely at the bottom and closed my
eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The screams came after an hour of waiting. The Kwana
jumped to their feet on my command. I squinted trying 
to see.

Like lightning a wall of water crashed into the
gates of Lishon and stopped. It was as if an invisible 
shield stopped the water.

Out of the wall stepped a single figure. She was
garbed in sea-blue and her copper hair dry as day.
I knew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was starting to get dark so I went to get Jorden and Clarisa. They 
looked up as I beckoned them to come and  they ran over as only
children could.

“It’s starting to get late, let’s head home.” There was none
of the usual arguments from the children. We donned our coats 
and  left.

	What the parent did not know was that beneath the fun of child
	play, there lay a Shana and Shano who made the world a better place
for all who cared to live. Once more the frilena would bloom in Lishon’s 
	court yard as they once had.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The story could be told in many ways,
with different plot lines and different endings.
what matters is not the setting or the plot
but the characters themselves. 
In some way every child has their own 
fairy-tale land that they are the hero’s of.
This story is particularly dear to me.
For you see, I was Shana and my brother was
Shano.

Premium Member In Memoriam Quietly Always Close

In Memoriam Quietly Always Close

Are they whispers, then, settling
So gently upon that slightest breeze wending
     Over the granite crosses and statues of cradling angels,
     Which stand in their long cemetary rows?
Stating each name of the one passed on with
There-on etched, too, the noting of time alive
And telling of the beloved, who hum there their slow laments;
Who send up colorful balloons to celebrate their love and
Take far their silent greetings in the sky.

Are they lullaby heartsongs, which 
Rise on sprigs of heaven-bound light,
So tunefully sweet for love’s addressed, aided
By a league of angellic composers
In their lyrical rounds from above our earthly sphere?

Are these the places of our hushed sympathies?
The places we lay over our dear ones
All the broken pieces of  the grieving heart’s still longing 
To stay in some way forever near, and, so, we linger thoughtfully
Criss-crossing the undulating final verdigris
 Landscape, which embraces the last remains ~
Resting on in heaven’s wait for that further journey going on.

Are these faint mists surrounding 
So many hours of our own remaining days —
     Which are spent summoning back the stories, the touches,
     The eyes that happily cast their glance into our own —
Not truly our tears 
Being turned to magnifying memories,
Prayerfully appearing with each
Dusk’s close of day  and placid rise of the radiant moon?

Do see that the soundless falling is our aching?
Is a furor — burst of pure, white snow:
A flash of a blizzard, looking nearly weightless,
Landing in silence, but
Incongruously,  falling heavily down, into those forming crystalline layers
To dress a seeming lace-like çover over all the stone markers
With a luminous beauty, revealing a metaphor, ineffable
~ Blessed markers of life itself set here before us
Within reach of meeting the Divine.


—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/5/2023
(Written for Jennifer Wilson & Maggie Hopkins in loving
  Memory of James Hopkins, spouse, father, & friend) Also written with the inspiring power of images of the 9,000 marking gravestone crosses in Normandy, France, and sights of Arlington Cemetary, Washington, D.C.
Written to unaccompanied cello Suite 1 in G major, perfomer Yo Yo Ma
Thanks be to God…

Red Lights

Where did I leave that serenity behind, that made me smile?
Now these red lights choke, the blood's dried, human venom reigns,
I cant dream in this jail, my sleep's gone, quite a while,
Red lights, danger, dont come here, all you'll get is pain.

'Come on, Kamini, there's customers outside, go satisfy their need,'
I move around in a caged house, where the nights aren't starry!
I'm sick, my body aches, heart jumps out, nobody pays a heed,
As I unbutton my blouse, remove the saree!

Where did that playground vanish, where I went out playing?
I look out at the empty skies, by day they are blue, and once again red,
I put faith in Someone once, I wasted my time praying,
I live in a colony of women who are dead!

'Kamini, what are you gonna do when you're big?' said a familiar voice,
No. It wasnt. It was a bad dream about a blurry past, rotten.
The red lights made me learn in life, without much choice,
So, in some way I'm thankful that in another world I am forgotten.

Where did the scoldings fade, when I put some mischiefs into act?
My mother would chase, and my father smile, reading his newspaper,
I would blow in my tea, and take a sip that wouldn't keep my mouth intact,
And then, jump as high as a skyscraper!

'Kamini, you can play in the ground, just dont go near the streets,'
It was once a day when the sun hadn't died, and my playtime cried,
But who would follow, when a child heart pleads?
That is when, for the first time, my life lied.

Where did I do things wrong that I pay this price today?
A girl is known for the will she holds, the will to carry on,
But what about the disgrace men give us, shall not we hold it too, in dismay?
I put my trust in a fake mind, my faith now is gone.

'Come, child, lets give you a ride, we'll give you a chocolate,'
I went to the car, a single step has turned my life upside down,
But he was just like my father, why would he have someone to hate
Someone whom he would send far away from her town?

Where did the streets go which dumped me here, made me a whore?
Was His eyes closed, or was he smiling at my folly?
Life's an unforgiving ocean, doesnt return things she takes from the shore,
And now the time's come, the graveyard is calling!

I write my wrath, is He there to stop another death?
No. He's not....
Form: Rhyme

Sickness In My Soul

I’m in such a state of confusion,
I don’t understand what I’m doing
I know your there
And I know you care
But I can’t see you
I can’t hear you
I just don’t know what to do
I know your there in the stillness,
Waiting to heal this illness
 
There is a deep hole
A sickness in my soul,
Disease in the depths of my heart
 But How to fix it
I wouldn't know where to start
How it came to be
Is a deep mystery to me
 
 I know that I am broken
We all are in some way
But rarely are these things spoken
Rarely do I have the courage to say
The secrets kept within
The depths of my sin
 
But if I hide it how can it be healed
 How can the healer heal?
If I keep my heart sealed
What if I let down my shield?
 
Will I be attacked or disgraced
Or will I be embraced
I’m too scared to find out
To be found out
So I hide my face
 
I only let people see part of me
I only let people get so close
I don’t want them to see
I don’t want them to know
And so I end up alone
 
I’ve been to the bar, the clubs,
All the social hubs
But no one cares about my hurts
 Life’s all about chasing skirts,
Fancy cars and nice shirts
 
Or is there something beyond drunken nights, and flashing lights
Is there something really worth living for, an open door to something more?
An invitation to a new destination
A path to peace, a sweet release
A new life to claim, an escape from the shame
I believe there is, some days I forget
But my life isn’t over yet
 
Tomorrow is a new day
I can live life your way
With love and peace
With guilt and shame released
With a new heart
And a new start
A reason to live
And something to give
To this broken earth
Of invaluable worth
 
At my very core
I know I was born for more
Than to live and to die
Without knowing why
I don’t have it all figured out
But I know without a doubt
That the world needs love
And that love comes from above
Because human love is not enough
 
That is why there is a deep hole
And a sickness in my soul
But to me has been revealed
The way to be healed
 
Now I have a mission
A reason for existence
To bring healing to the earth
To the unloved, the broken, the rejected
And tell them what they are worth
So that Jesus’ love will be reflected
And this love will give birth
To many people being resurrected,
Redirected and completely accepted
To a wonderful and glorious rebirth
Form: Rhyme

A Moment In Time Pt.3

Disrespectful in so many ways, times where I almost wished that they knew, so I could
prove that I was just that good. Some guy friends I would let  know and we would laugh,
talking that mess, but still on guard, cause my back I felt like they would stab. “Why”,
it was probably their girl I nabbed, old nasty, low down brother, facial glare just like a
glass. Transparent to the naked eye, being so clever, being so sly, corruption of the
easiest minds, almost like leaves blowing in a trail of wind that was flowing like a vine.
All connected in some way, if they all stopped and talked I probably would of been caught,
but man at that time it was a lot of fun at least I thought. Which ends the second stage
of being misguiding.
	So destructive in my mentality, using and abusing everything I could get my hands on,
from the bottom of the jar, to the top of the jar. Most nights, were blurred vision,
slurred speech, new freaks, old freaks, dumb freaks, smart freaks, maybe caught an
occasional geek freak. Selfish, overpowering, but not in the sense of taking, persuasive,
so convincing, “hell“, sometimes I believed it myself. A fresh cut mold for everyone,
liven life just having fun, unknown to anyone. Then comes along someone that knows,
immediately throwing salt in the game and letting everyone know. Backtracking and
fabricating, seeming like the easiest why out, I was open like a book, that couldn’t be
closed, extremely exposed by the lies I had told. Defensive in nature is what I turned to,
quick to blame, but sure to lose but what an opportunity for them to prove what I had
really been up to. Naturally proud and confident in swag, I tried to stand strong, but
other players stood and laughed, cause they knew I was about to crash. And crash I did, 
as hard as I could fall, face first, just like belly flopping in a pool, when your not in
control, I’ve been pushed. Starting to question myself, “Am I being true”, probably not to
myself or anyone else. I’ve been crumbling inside, far from being right, I might need a
moment in time to collect my thoughts. Convinced this is the end of my misguided thoughts
and the selfish ways, in which I used to walk and talk. Just the end of another bad chapter.
	 Written by: thegoldenpython aka. Wilfordjy

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