Long Life and death Poems
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(Dedicated To Submariners All Over The World)
Dived deep in the bowels of the seas
My steely shell’s a womb.
Deep down amidst the oil and grease
I am at peace in the Lovecraftian tomb!
What’s with the antonyms, you may ask?
Two opposite words you’ve used -
One’s a warm and wonderful cask,
The other’s dead and worm-abused.
The words are apt, as you’ll soon realize,
For a sub’s a Faustian hell
Where the soul imperceptibly dies
A place where sub-human’s dwell!
Dimmed lights cast a sepulchral gloom,
Myriad machines sing Orphic songs
Of palpable peril and impending doom;
Each one of us a Houri’s groom!
To us’s denied the kiss of the sun,
Not for us the fresh blown breeze,
We know not when the day’s begun,
Nor when the night’s a-freeze!
Up periscopes and down again
The klaxons’ strident screams
Make us jump from where we’ve lain
To drilled duties in well-oiled teams.
The sighting of a laggard prey,
Spells sure a petard blown,
For a homing submarine fish tail spray
Brings terror to hardened men and grown.
Though through silent prowls of the deep we hunt,
Like coin could be our fate.
Our shell could crack with the depth charge brunt;
With Davy Jones we’d have our date!
But when heightened pulse and throbbing heart
Have ceased their labours wild,
Routine sets in and all is “back to start”
Each one an unborn child.
The sub becomes a womb, you see,
A place where your thoughts get sorted;
An amniotic envelope, safe and cozy,
With fair chance to get aborted!
So I hope now that my ditty’s run its course
The message’s plain and grim
That life and death share the same source -
For a submariner womb and tomb are synonym!
The sun leads the day
The moon controls the night
The stars, harmonize in the skies,
A light night to render.
A cold breeze blows over my skin,
My eyes float within the air in awe
The precious beauties are nocturnal;
And I wonder how,
God
Wondrously staged the universe.
How the morning sprouts and gets ripe,
Or the day light and bright,
How the sun brushes away the dusk at dawn,
And its power to illuminate through cloud patches;
The grace of God sustains all life.
The diversities in creations, his creativity portrays
Black is gold, white diamond; all precious
Short is sweet, tall a necessity; all gorgeous
Slender is flexible, big a wholesome;
The humans, in his image, he created;
To the animals, out of abundance, he provides;
And I admire, the uniqueness of his art,
He is worthy of worship!
How complex is your body, my body,
The reflection of God’s likeliness?
The brain our CPU, the heart our battery,
How the various organs coordinate for us to stand,
I would rather not question,
But have Jesus and have it all.
What about his existence in our midst?
The omnipresent walks with us through all,
Life and death, he never leaves us
That is what he has promised to do,
Love the lead of the scene.
When asked time and again, who I am,
I am a child of God;
When asked time and again, who I believe in,
I believe in God,
The sole maker of all this universe!
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
I laughed through the receiver — “Still scolding from the night,
Still chasing my foolish shadows with your old familiar light;
You left your bones to silence, yet your sharp tongue remains,
A flame that outlives the ashes and remembers all my names.
She whispered, “You seek the dead where the cold earth has grown,
But graves keep only silence; they cannot keep what we have known;
The voice you thought was calling from some forgotten shore—
Was the tree beneath your footsteps, remembering the seed it bore.”
Collaborative Poetry Note
The Stoner Collaboration Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
The opening two stanzas of this poem were originally written by Charles Messina as the foundation of the collaborative piece. The subsequent stanzas were composed as a continuation and reinterpretation of the original narrative, expanding the encounter into a meditation on memory, mortality, love, and the unseen connections that endure beyond physical existence.
This poem represents a creative dialogue between voices — where humour, personal experience, and visionary reflection merge into a shared exploration of what remains when the boundaries between life and death begin to dissolve.
Living in an endless nightmare
Where the flowers never bloom
Where the sun doesn't shine
And the river's never flow
As life changes from day to day
And their eyes and grins are all we find
Not caring about our destiny or our fate
Why do we feel the way we do
To learn, to explore, to understand the world
Is it right to feel so blue
To feel like you have no purpose in life
To feel like you've been violated inside-out
Dreaming of far off places to where the birds fly free
And all our greatest dreams become more than real
As the blue bird shed's it's happiness
To all of us who are so blind
Yet what is happiness to those who mourn
Or those who weep over what's been done
Each so different, yet each the same
Created equal for a purpose, to love one another
The fight between life and death is hard to see
But the answer is not ours to hold
We must each find our path's in life
Where we each make mistakes that change our ways
As the rain pours down to bring new life
A single breath is but a whisper
And a shallow heartbeat that is so clear
Our minds dance, dance in the dead of night
While the monster so true gets three to five
The innocence of a young girl is so blind
Where from day in and day out she is left with life
No remorse for this lonesome dove while she flies overhead
Like the Angel she is she wishes it to end
For them to help, yet leave her alone
For them to see how hurt she feels
Like being left alone by the stump of a tree
As an Angel may spread it's wings
To reveal its masked identity
We are lost in our words from our hearts
Like the sun that shines so bright
Like the secrets of an innocent soul
All is lost in the abyss of nothingness
Where fire reins free as if like a bird
But with no feeling like the devil himself
As a lost soul may find a way to far beyond
It carries with it a message of hope, peace and love
For until next time we shall have to wait
For the secret to life, death and beyond even that.
Traces of the masterful
impregnable prepubescent wall
still extant scads of decades since
complex edifice erected to force tall
permanently leaving me unmoored,
marooned, and furloughed ready for pall
bearers to spill soil upon my
then emaciated stick figure overall,
an unlovely bag of bones
stripped of flesh,
sans unseen deadly parasites,
who valiantly tried to mothball,
and nearly succeeded, kneaded,
and deeded landfall,
when aghast parents
at wits end betiding,
halting, and ramming ace kickball
player with serious
game of life and death,
the latter cleated toehold
unanimous decision to install
topnotch scorer anticipating
seeing his name plaque mounted
within glass encasement within guildhall,
faintly hearing inaudible teammates
praised showered, visited
head upon one, with grit and gall,
who clinched championship
wrathful excoriation against me
referee could not forestall,
who fumbled, kindled (as predicted)
loose tongues flaying hide with no rescue
to escape being skewered behind eight ball,
thus the above "FAKE"
metaphor merely to accentuate
self repudiation delivering
to this defacto scapegoat
bullies taunts endlessly berate
ting, jackknifing, and resulting
with implacable self hate
deferrening allowance,
asper my grant (migrant)
humph...pariah status
to learn social skills quite late,
and apathetically to marry and mate
despite ambivalence within my pate
even now...the entombed fortress prison wall,
I cannot obliterate
hence... no surprise WALLS - I HATE!
Never forget me
Do forgive me
Or I’ll be a valueless memory
You’ll feel my pain…
You’ll be the one rotting…
I’m screaming:
“Water me! Water me!”
But you’ll refuse to see
That I’m starving for your courtesy
That I’m yearning to be satisfied …possibly
Nourish me…like a thirsty tree
Begging for a superb growth experience
Despite the expense…
I’m in between
The beginning and end…how can I make progress?
When I’m shrouded in infirmity
The happiness…has abandoned me for good–
What is there to do, God?
What is there to look forward to?
What is there to see, Lord?
What is there to achieve? Secure me with your great sword
I’m powerless…I’m insecure like an orphan
Ignored… I forlorn…thrown out like an inkless pen
You left me in your debris…or was it my fault
That I’m drowning…suffocating…
You’d do me a great favor and save me
For heaven’s sake…
My life’s at stake…
My life’s close to its demise…
My joyous life – I don’t recognize…
I’m in between
Sorrow and assurance…could this day get any worse–
To my misfortune, the day is still carrying on
But I won’t worry about it… I’ll just wait until my might
Shines on like the dawn
I’m actually making progress
Somewhat…but time is running out
But you left me in the cold…without any blankets
You’re cruel…you know what I’m talking about
I’m choking on grime…
There’s not enough time…
There’s not much time to spare…
Spare my life…
Don’t give them a piece of your rage…don’t you dare
Blame them for the strife
That drags you down to hell –
Is that where your heart dwells?
I’m in between
Life and death…
Will this second be my last breath?
Will this day give birth to my future triumph?
What do you mean I’m in the brink of success?
Does this poem make any sense?
What’ll be the expense?
I’m in between
I’m left on the shelves…
Untouched…unseen…
You’re so mean…
Don’t you dare
Leave me with your debt
I’m in between
Love and hate
You left me in the margins…
Why am I placed in this hectic state?
Which feeling am I the closest to?
You’ll just have to figure it out yourself…
I wish you knew…I wish you knew…
How much I loved you…
Now, I’ve changed my mind about you…
I’m through with you…
You made me soak in your rue
Your rue…your guilt…your remorse…
Sticks to me like glue
I’m through with you…
I’m sick of feeling blue : ' /
Form:
One more I love you
Is that too much to ask?
Time passes, and we get so busy
work and career, home and hearth
life and death, children and birth,
sudddenly, it all slips away
leaving these last few moments left to pray;
Pray for the future, be grateful of the past
satisfied our love has last.
Too soon pass the days
suddenly they're years,
blessed and cursed
with unexpected sadness and all its tears
plagued by the threats of our greatest fears;
we said we'd grow old together
moments for just you and me;
Time out raced us
rushing you to the end
how could that have happened
in the perplexties of life's bends
and now all I ask for
is one more I love you.
By mercy and truth iniquity is purged.
Righteousness' and peace's lips together merged.
Into the great ark animals marched in pairs,
as Noah continued in obedience and prayers.
In Peleg's day, men's years were cut to half.
Two nations at war --- "son of promise" means "to laugh."
Parallel testaments fuse old with new,
scriptures aligning as smooth as glue.
The next Adam came and fulfilled the whole law.
Entreat Him with humble love and awe.
Between thieves Yeshua was crucified.
Angels greeted His tomb after He died.
Unbelievers will die a second time,
guilty of each committed crime.
The faithful will resurrect unto new life,
greeting their groom as a youthful wife.
Before you, life and death are set.
Choose whom you will serve, love your only debt.
A great light rules the day, and lessor the night.
Wield your shiny sword for truth and might.
No height or depth in all of creation
can separate believers from God's salvation.
No eye has seen; no ear has heard
God's plans beyond the living Word...
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Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Psalm 85:10
By mercy and truth iniquity is purged,
and by the fear of God men depart from evil. Proverbs 16:6
*Isaac (Abraham's son) means "laughter" or "he will laugh". "Two nations at war" refers to the ongoing conflict between Muslims and Jews.
No eye has seen no ear has heard the things that God has prepared for those who love him. 1 Corinthians 2:9
Deuteronomy 30:15
See, I have set before thee this day life and good, and death and evil;
Genesis 1:16
And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also.
Romans 13:8
Owe no man anything, but to love one another, for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law.
Romans 8:39
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
1-22-23
The quote is from William Shakespeare's play, Hamlet,
spoken by Hamlet in Act 3, Scene 1.
"To be or not to be, that is the question."
But, what's the explanation of- to be?
Hopes for more than only one suggestion;
and so, I offer this which pleases me.
To be is that one choice tween life and death,
not only of the flesh but of the mind.
And choosing life is being with our breath;
and feeding thought creates life well-defined.
Yet, some may say that life's not just to be,
and brush off any joys it holds within;
to shut their minds to blackness others see
no matter in the ground or 'neath the skin.
Some say great life just happens on its own-
those highs and lows exist beyond our will;
that happenstance determines path alone-
in what we'll end up feeling- pang or thrill.
The choice is yours: with hope, it is to be;
the opposite negates life's grander prize.
Must live life to its fullest guarantee;
block not- just be, no need to compromise.
One Dollar
When I was a kid,
I worked for every dime I got.
I folded papers,
I took out the trash,
I did dishes,
washed cars,
and weeded the garden.
Two weeks it would take me,
to earn one dollar.
Two weeks of hard work.
Grandpa told me I was worth every penny,
and that I would make a good worker one day.
I watched him,
I listened to his stories.
I learned all that I could,
about growing up.
I learned all that I could,
about being... grown.
Money comes and it goes,
but the lessons stay through the seasons.
They become more compound,
and more complex.
Sometimes they are harsh and unforgiving,
about birth, life, and death.
Sometimes they are soft and sweet,
and concern matters of the heart.
There is a balance between earning too much,
and giving too much of your life away,
for too little of its value.
The exchange needs to be, fair.
I miss the wisdom of Grandpa's yesterday,
and I must maneuver the path alone now.
Yet, the echo of his teachings,
leave me... better prepared.