Long Instincts Poems
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I wouldn't have reached this mature age
if angels didn't exist and watch over me,
one angel...while I was sleeping squeezed my hand
to confort me through trails and misfortunes,
not foreseen by young eyes frightened by rage;
today that comforting hand still holds mine truer than any friend!
That angel hasn't returned, giving me assurance and certainty...
that nothing tragic is going to happen anytime soon;
if I doubted this, and wished for another visitation, I wouldn't bear bitter scorn!
Yes, angelic visions warn us of events that will change the course of destiny.
I wouldn't have seen the needed love...misery and compassion of others,
if angels didn't exist and allow me to reflect and act on instincts:
by becoming wiser and avoiding making mistakes leading to regrets;
who would go to such lenghts and diverge my fate from catostrophy?
No, not even the most trusted friend whom I thought had shown sincerity!
Divinition must be taken seriously as I did when this hand so cold with fear
was touched by the hand of an invisible angel with a message so clear!
Mysterious angel, please don't visit me again at dawn,
while I still live and and I'm dazzled by youngsters riding a happy unicorn;
why don't they fear those ferocious beasts? To them...they are truly beautiful!
Up the diversified life's evolutionary lineage tree,
with time a unique species climbs to the canopy of sagacity.
With functional form and wisdom blending in beautiful mind,
the rational man creates the art of living, the masterpiece.
In the righteous journey made to the realm of wisdom,
humans acquire the attribute of fundamental fortitude,
attain in toiling times the resilient state of self-discipline,
connected with the universal notion in the algorithm of being.
The ego abandoned, the meaning of life measured
with the essence quotient of the profound intelligence,
defines the transcendent qualities of the stoic existence,
harmoniously enshrined within the latent human spirit.
Beneath the tempestuous strife in the sea of life,
flows convivial calmness with current of sensuous emotion.
The inundating surge of innate love and empathy
spreads on the shore of the serene soul of noble life.
When the mind wavers unsteady in life’s turns and twists,
gets bound in the scrupulous roots of the sanctified psyche,
the thwarting thrust of negative sensitivity disappears,
blows away the base instincts in the wind of ethical acuity.
With the moral fiber of the productive positive passion,
when the mind weaves the tapestry of timeless acumen,
embedded enmeshed within the motionless motif of inner bliss,
life finds the virtuous course in the dormant domain of stoicism.
I head an interesting thought
on the state of the world today,
about the wokeness, the PC,
and why we’re degrading this way,
That tied it to something that we
often celebrate quite a lot,
that would be maternal instinct,
the kind that most women have got,
that’s why we’re seeing such softness,
such growing degeneracy,
is that they’re placing this instinct
on the whole of society.
Now we all know that this instinct
has an important role to play,
who of us would still be alive
if women were not made this way?
Babies need lots of nurturing,
they always need to be kept safe,
and women with good instincts were
the ones who saw themselves replaced,
the ones whose descendants live on,
and would should be thankful for that,
so it seems strange, at first, to say
that such an instinct can be bad.
But then bring in feminism,
as we’re seen the last face decades,
telling women to go to work,
it’s more important to get paid.
And we’ve seen women do just that,
that is where the problem took off,
since women choosing to take jobs
doesn’t mean the instincts are lost.
You can’t ignore evolution,
and the nurture meant for a babe
gets displaced onto society,
we’ve seen this so much in our age.
Look at all of this woke nonsense,
blind cheerleading of ‘the oppressed.’
feminine instinct to protect
what they perceive as the smallest.
And if that virtue signaling
brings women a nice, moral buzz,
that’s like those ‘super-mother’ types,
who gain status from their ‘extra love.’
Look at the damn HR culture,
With its tone policing run rife,
like mothers lecturing young kids
not to say words that ‘aren’t nice.’
look at the cancel culture plague,
seems remarkably like grounding,
say something that mother won’t like,
you’re punished, they take all your things.
Look at the nonsense called ‘hate speech,’
the punishing of points-of-view…
the female urge to spare feelings,
and place emotion above truth.
Look at the cursed ‘nanny state,’
the safety obsession we see,
how much comes from the displaced urge
to protect a helpless baby?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Here I stood, drenched with idiosyncrasy of evil rain;
Utterly dazed by what was said to be brightness,
Yes! I was poked in the eye by the dazzling lights of the terrain,
And I kept on swimming in the withered waters of wilderness.
I gave myself in, and was being smashed on an anvil just to go wasted.
Admonishing instincts gave me a cavil, but the fan for life, I really wanted.
Everything was okay, but the air, was it really soothing?
Oh no! I believe there was no fun to it at all.
What there was to it was really making me appall.
Now, I am overwhelmed with joy for I am king.
I was made king when He tapped me on the shoulder with affinity;
When I gave in and admitted it was all vanity.
He never cast me to doom though I was a slave of doom.
A new day I have seen, and will never get intimidated by gloom.
This is how one of my friends describes
my character attributes.
In many blood-shot blazing eyes he sees
they seethe inside in the inferno of anger,
throw out raging words from the venomous minds.
He doesn’t run away from them
to heal the scorched self-esteem,
nor does he ignite another flame within in retaliation.
He confronts them with composed confidence of poise,
doesn’t let them incinerate the sanctum of his soul,
for he exudes the cool fountain of forgiveness.
He walks life on the path of self-respect, he paves,
and on the way, all the good done to him
he can’t acknowledge loud with words,
but the buds of gratitude blooming within,
he keeps adored under sensuous shroud.
Mellow psyche absorbs his inarticulate feelings,
he is overwhelmed, but doesn’t demonstrate.
In the anchorless drift of the mundane mind,
detached from the principled roots,
the untamed instincts may envelope his senses.
As the needle of ethical compass breaks,
the vortex of emotions drags his mind
into the transient tide of the changing times,
the inner voice of his conscience echoes.
He sees the light of wisdom illumine the soul,
discerns the divine acumen of awareness.
The piety portal then opens for him
to the sanctum of profound bliss.
Time passes and I wonder how did I come to be here.
I remember watching you from across the misty lawn.
My heart seems to stop beating and I'm almost in fear.
One minute I see you so clearly, the next minute you're gone.
Maybe I'm dreaming and I never saw you at all.
And why am I scared at the same time drawn to you?
Your sultry stare captivates me completely in thrall.
I shake my head as if it would change my perfect view.
I will myself to walk far away from your entrancing eyes.
I'm shaking and I can't figure out why I'm so scared.
This has to be my imagination playing tricks on me I surmise.
Then you appear before me as if by magic and I'm unprepared.
I panic, breathing heavy as I turn to run where you can't find me.
All of a sudden you're before me and I never even saw you pass.
I try to go in another direction, my instincts say to run, flee.
Hiding in a room, hoping you won't see me thru the stained glass.
No such luck, you somehow breathe my name from parted lips.
How could you know my name, I've never even met you before.
You swoop behind me and my body is lost to your shadow's eclipse.
Grabbing me, tearing into my throat, lapping up the blood and gore.
My knees give way and I'm too stunned to even manage a scream.
White spots cloak my vision and I'm feeling as if I may just faint.
I look down at my favorite dress, in the moonlight my blood gleams.
A calm washes over me and the biting feels good, isn't that quaint?
Darkness swallows me and to my relief, I am feeling nothing more.
Visions of gnashing teeth, and spurting blood haunt my once peaceful rest.
Jerking awake, only to realize I lay in a crumpled heap, incredibly sore.
I see that I have a bite on my throat and an even bigger one on my breast.
How will I explain this, and what do I do now, where do I go?
No one will believe me, I'd never believe it if I wasn't here to see.
How odd, I seem to be healing fast, I see that scabs are starting to grow.
I walk towards nowhere, this night was something I didn't foresee.
I sniff the air and smell an oddly familiar scent of earth, musk and fur.
It seems to pull me in that direction, as if I no longer have control.
My instincts tell me that I am going somewhere safe and secure.
I'm healed now, my dried blood now leaves me wondering, do I still have a soul?
Figure of a man, constantly open
Poetry marriage that makes him richer
Her heart and beauty a gift so golden
Separate it would change, die, and wither
Friendship woven his unfailing embrace
Knowing not about him; external blessed
Through unassuming nature God gives grace
Gratitude words spoken his life expressed
Love of the tall pine and Mckinley beach
Journey hand in hand through umber forest
Embracing warm home, changed eyes within reach
Captive to lucid euphoric promise
Blessed interest with family and friends
Personal journey of faith God ascends
11/8/2016
Insert from ; "DUMMY - Hurtful & Healing Words"
by; Richard lamoureux
http://www.wisedummypoet.com
Richard lamoureux
Richard
Husband, son, father, friend
Mary's sweetie, Matthew's dad, Edith's son, brother to Teresa and Roy
Lover of family, friends and time alone
Who feels passion, joy and doubt
Who fears rejection, being forgotten and failure
Who would like to see Paris, Greece and the face of my Savior
Resident of Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada
Lamoureux
Richard
Proud, deceitful, lustful, liar
holder of grudges, occupier of dark thoughts
Competitive to a fault, craver of things material
Temptations target
Who feels torn in two
Who fears his darker instincts
Resident and member of humanity
Lamoureux
We are living in the middle, you and I,
between butterfly beginnings - ethereal endings.
Despite Natural Law, I'm persuaded to pause;
if possible, dear, let chrysalis continue ...
Timothy Levi Hicks
Love’s Path
Love's Path
Rules bind us from infancy
If instincts are true we thrive, each new lesson works
for success, we forget practices that thwart happiness.
Passages and reaching for that metaphoric sky
Romance, a chrysalis that cradles heightened mystery- our endurance of drudge before we fly
We are living in the middle, you and I
There is much we live, reliant upon chance happenings- what if we had never met? Our paths, never intersected or,
if they did, we missed our chance to connect.
The perfect moment when the sky was right to usher in romance,
the laws of attraction that shaped the joy of love in magic renderings, in heightened awareness of simple things.
Brighter colors, heavenly perfumes
the harmony and peace of mutual understandings.
between butterfly beginnings - ethereal endings
Time came for making promises --getting used to things,
expected or not—learning the art of forgiving
Consenting to cherish common objectives—
was it our love succeeded because
we overlooked each others’ flaws, or unmet expectations
Two souls astounded to be of the same accord
or was a momentary whim the cause?
Despite Natural Law, I'm persuaded to pause
Too quickly the paragraphs of time we reád
Hand in hand we strolled the pages of our years
weathered all the seasons with forgiving hearts
Nothing could measure the small eternity we made ourselves-
we endured life with every sinew- refused to imagine
a life devoid of one another
Now matter how circumstance may try spin you
if possible, dear, let chrysalis continue
I am strong, I am lean
I am part of the restless pack
I am a great wolf on the run
swift of foot and living free.
When I stare at your world
I see fat dogs that look like me.
They don't hunt, they just wait
until you feed them.
When I am hungry, I often
want to eat one.
I work hard for my food
I hunt with the pack
thrill with the chase
the exhilaration
howling with my snout uplifted
with the moon in my wake.
Then, in sheer exhaustion
I sleep under an open sky
safe in the warmth of the pack
in all kinds of weather
proud and secure with my kind.
Your dogs have human warmth
but have lost their instincts
coddled by humans who are
afraid to put them out at night
afraid they will be cold
afraid they won’t survive.
They are not free, like me
I am not imprisoned
by soft humans.
I am not soft, nor was I
meant to be soft.
I am canine, strong and free.
In God’s own world so humane once
Blood flows thick as incensed streams
Bullets rip through the buds of dream
The homeless drift as alien discards
Terror flares up in the fanatic hearths
Lives mutilated by despicable instincts
People plunge in cesspool of vice and sin
Dislodged empathy finds its way astray
Morality defaced by harsh intolerance
Kinship disintegrates in abhorrence.
In God’s own world so beautiful ever
The sun rises in multi-color grandeur
The ocean embraces the golden shores
The sky sparkles with moon and stars
The rains shower the music of clouds
The forest makes scenic emerald lattice
The river takes land’s essence to the sea.
The children born to inhabit the world
Still smile and play merrily in the field
God is not tired of the humankind yet
He will make the world humane again.
__________________
May 29, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Contest