Long Instinctual Poems
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Brother wolf, you come to me in dreams
yet, I’ve no fear, we are one and the same.
We children of nature in dreamtime twilight,
evoke wooded memories,
held in mid-night echoes.
Survival is our mutual lot and your courage
I have sought among these astral timbers.
You speak of courage and I, your charge,
wear yours upon my spirit like a steel mantle;
I fear not for our pack is our strength;
together we survive.
Imbue me with instinctual guidance;
impart your wisdom brother wolf
and I will cross boundaries
with feather-light ease.
2-18-2023
Your Choice Again Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Humanity Upon the Falling
Catastrophic predictions for humanities future
Another universal wound that needs an international suture
A forced appropriation into sacred laws and culture
A non linear approach to living by an exhibitionist social vulture
Wondering through the alleyways of regret, loss and fear
Meandering through a lonely day I’d prefer to forget through all the tears
Pandering to an overt display of the signs of decay formed over the years
Gandering at an intelligent play of counteroffensives that draw the enemy near
Culminations of interstellar events that illuminate the sky
Promulgations of technology filled with cement as they play with concept and design
Insubordination at the elements of counterfeit disguise
Unco-ordination of the prevalent response to human rights upon demise
Distinct notions of postulations on beauty and manifestation
The precinct motions for consultations while refuting the observations
As instinctual devotions summon the sun, sky and oceans while computing the conversations
And intrinsic commotions of the expression of emotions form while convoluting their invocations
Exploitation of a man’s political ideals
Importations of a lands empirical repeals
Considerations as he stands for unequivocal honesty in what he reveals
Commiserations as she commands her right to inadmissible evidence in the face of extremist zeal
Fortitude when considering the future of the human race
A child exudes the embodiment of heavenly dispensations of grace
A mild interlude of admonishment as they misinterpret the expression on your face
A wild vicissitude of capital punishment that needs legislation to replace
Fine tunes of personal exaltation as radiance falls from the distant sun
High moods of verse and imitation as recompense overshadows all the fun
Shy exudes of terse limitations as malcontents mellow out the place of number one
Why be so rude to visitations as many circumvent homeostasis as the humans discharge their guns
Copywrite Elizabeth Moroz 2023
The End
I think back on the women,
I've graced with my presence,
Some thankful, some spiteful,
For the short or long sentence,
They did all provide me,
With an honest intrusion,
At times complimentary,
With a twist of confusion,
They covered the spectrum,
From need to desire,
Whether mental ignition,
Or pure physical fire,
The look or the glare,
The symmetrical tush,
The banter or lingo,
The instinctual push,
The appetite for sex,
Or lack thereof too,
Usually led me,
To know what to do,
Some captured my id,
And played it so well,
To cause both of my heads,
To stand up and swell,
Some tried to tame me,
With nothing to gain,
Which usually led to,
The end of their reign,
A few pandered, at times,
To my every request,
But too much of one thing,
Is pleasant, at best,
Some braved to challenge,
My self at the core,
Then failed to provide,
The goods at the door,
Some I enjoyed,
For the thrill or the fun,
But life really starts,
Once the laughing is done,
The flavors of quality,
Distinctions of trait,
What drew me towards them,
While I told others to wait,
Each are an insight,
To the road I have traveled,
And to parts, yet unseen,
Which are soon to unravel,
So while my fate,
Is soon to be written,
I'll ponder all those,
Who have nibbled or bitten.
(5/6/97)
My given name is of no consequence.
You can call me Spider Girl.
It’s an appropriate name, I think.
I’m indistinguishable in many ways
from billions of other creatures just like me.
(Character building experiences
tend to breed cartoons.)
I might appear pretty easy to step on
but don't underestimate resourcefulness
and long legs.
Anyway, I’m going to do my
darnedest to weave something
worthy of your attention
or whatever you will end up spending
to buy this comic book
because I’ve got a daughter to raise
and let’s face it: long legs alone
ain’t gonna pay the bills.
My enemies vary:
Thugs who crow too loudly,
evil geniuses (they tend to keep mum),
crime bosses,
even monsters who are out of this world.
I share a universe with heroes, too,
some I used to run with –
although “with” sort of works as
an elaboration of the truth.
A prevarication.
A provocation.
One should not provoke me.
I don’t quite know what I’m capable of yet.
Mommies of all species will kill for their young.
I’ve heard it’s instinctual –
but, what if that’s just an excuse to
step over the line,
take a seat,
cross one’s legs,
look tough,
and watch someone else suffer?
It’s that violence
the drug I crave…
Are you frightened of me yet?
Good.
Maybe you should be.
Like all of outer space we see during nights:
We are hollow and hallow in mind and spirit,
Yet within there are little lights.
Like all of the shadowy darkness:
The inside of our bodies hold no literal illumination,
Yet we all contain blood and invisible aura colors.
Like all animals born we know little:
We are instinctual and intuitive in essence,
Yet we all express conscience and consciousness.
Like this planet of other planets He created:
We are fallen beings, living physically manifested,
Yet the truth is that we, on Earth, all have a reason.
Like all people you’ve heard of and known:
We are all different physically and mentally,
Yet essentially we’re all the same in soul and spirit.
Like all the civilizations throughout time,
We are at war with ourselves and were once of love,
Yet because of all that is, is how we are humans.
~
A Timeless Connection
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix’d equally;
(From John Donne….."The Good-Morrow"
My dad held a presence, that was clearly outdone
by the stars in the heavens, this I confess…
Upstaged it may seem by other cowboys we've seen
on the stage, on the screen, in the movies, no less..
But in spite of it all, we knew he was one …
A star in the eyes to the ones who knew best…
He was a star in the eyes of this creature he loved
His "Queenie", beloved, who learned from his touch
She trusted the whispers, the instinctual caress
of his hands, of his legs, and the click of a wrist
The tug of a rein or the touch of a wisp
She would bow down, adore him and then softly obey,
to please him, appease him, while he in return…
would love her, so gently….his trust always earned
And all through those days as they stirred up the dust,
the sun would smile down until it would rest
And on the horizon when the sun would be gone….
my Dad and his queen would blend into one
~
_______________________________________________________________
May they be stirring up heavenly dust together…..
Dad and 'Queenie'.....united forever
_______________________________________________________
3/1/18
fertilization upon ovule
via spermatozoa automatically
gearing linkedin anticipated birth
especially upon confirmation conception
did sex seed
after numerous attempts dispelled dearth
as probable odds
finally wrought hardy sea men
to stoke the womb
spelling biological chances
that, fecund female will evince swollen girth
the longest time tested oven since humans
found warmth
amidst flint stoned sparked hearth
and fraught with utmost joy
at prospective parent hood
which, (lemme here
collective soulful sigh of relief)
that *****Sapiens
durability foretold tubby good
thenceforth extra mouth
to feed necessitated larder of food
which harvests
must be plenti full to appease gods,
and bank on siblings
to beget appreciable brood
hence existence extant for millennia
fastened tight like umbilical cord
sustaining potential life in utero
in due time dilating cervix will a ford
signal (predicated on natural bio rhythms),
whence that cub hoard will be a saving grace
(amazingly innate survival skills) noel lord
could ever conceive,
an instinctual attribute moored
within early forebears of modern mankind,
an explicit genetic haversack
microscopically pitch perfect (NON GMO,
gluten free trade) blend poured
with just the exact consistency,
flexibility, and resiliency
(in case a lion, tiger or bear roared)
as adrenaline pumped woman within family way
to escape let incubating progeny shored
when time and tide informed clandestine
cherished, fortified, prized oh ward
whence healthy birth of baby feted,
festooned with garlands engineered ahead
reflecting golden halo
akin to a ring of bright waters
thence new born and maternal figure
ferreted nested in feathered bed
which, didst double up when dread
locked spar ring human,
whence grim reaper got fed
another mortal, which body froze
with rigor mortis heavier like a led
zeppelin versus when person alive in stead
no heroic measures extant
when grim reaper came quick
advent chore of early primates could not treat nor trick
the scythe lent hooded body snatcher
as candle box didst flickr
burning down tallowed wick.
Flesh fuels fire. Spirit yields. There's body-soul fusion.
Springs up, will to power, and power to will illusion
Narcissistic senses and sensations amalgamated
Moral fibre, like worn-out dental roots, is deflated.
Selfishness, like the greed of predators, murders morals.
Egotism, like crabs in competitions, grabs all laurels.
Overconfident sensitive ego, like porcupines
Spreads its pokes, and thus, to hurt anyone, crosses limit lines.
Mind-not-on-task, - mental disposition, pervades the mind.
Consciousness compromises; awareness gets quarantined.
Hunger for acknowledgment and appreciation grows.
Self-contentment and satisfaction get peaceful repose.
Pretension and flamboyance soon become ethical codes.
Property, possessions, power, projective passion modes
The gratification of instinctual impulses
leading, ultimately, to emotional convulses
Prognosticating Present Plight...
Perhaps Preset During In Utero Protean Stage?
Reviewing, sans my life
and arduous hard time
lock, stock, and barrel on regular basis,
and of late composing
this, that, or another rhyme,
now I acquiesce past
trials and tribulations
contributed positive, and
negative effects, yes prime
air really prepubescent nexus
with entering seventh grade,
sobbing and crying at bedtime
leaving Henry Kline Boyer,
a miserable yet sentimental clime,
one romper room class schoolhouse
entering Methacton, what seemed
crushingly, frightfully, incredibly humongous
(actually, not an exceptionally large
learning place for hippo campus)
nonetheless mine fragile psychological
state cannibalized by anthropophagus
mailer daemons conjurations analogous
to mythological beasts avaricious
even slim picking morsel - satisfactory,
this then overwrought extremely anxious
bundle of nerves burning with arsonous
punishing self treason backlash atrocious
reaction kindling tindered
self destructive spark rampantly autonomous
ruinously, quintessentially passively,
opportunistically audacious
hell bent on mortal kombat
to a starving slow seditious death,
this no matter auspicious
native intelligence, capability, aptitude...
now entertain notion
suicidal seed avaricious
since...commencement when fertilized ova
simultaneously begat barbarous
biological blastula birthing blasphemous
counterproductive stealthy burglarious
itty bitty kamikaze blitzkrieg
spewing, issuing, and garnering
hollow weaning cadaverous
sole son foretelling calamitous
alarming father and mother
necessitated immediate intervention,
the instinctual innate calculus
attuned to soundless clangorous
foretelling stoppable death knell
relieved, through aggressive copious
life saving measures, nonetheless deleterious
repercussions hobbled me, disastrous
behavior seeped into lifelong existence!
I have a right to dance.
In my elder years, all sound has faded.
The once pure melodies are now atonal.
But kicking up a storm,
dancing is a revolutionary act.
I have a right to dance.
I awaken to a chorus of chanters,
I awaken to the legends and lore.
Part dream, part audio reception.
Part past life, part immaculate conception.
Part laugh, part delirious deception.
I am connected, I am comforted,
I am confronted, I am contorted
by forces ever so much larger,
by senses ever so much stronger.
I have a right to dance,
a right to prance in the human parade.
Like ants, my cells are self-organizing.
Like trees, my rings archive my story.
I smell and taste the music I recall.
I savor the instinctual harmonies,
the behavior of rhapsodies.
I deliver the symbolic pirouettes,
the mimetic genuflect.
All motion becomes a spectacle.
All movements shape a carnival.
With my body, I advance,
moods and dreamscapes, I enhance,
lost and forgotten in the endless expanse.
I have a right to dance!