Long Light headed Poems
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(8/22/12)
When I was a child I climbed the tallest tree that I could find
To see all the beauties that GOD left behind.
I’ve never been to any snow capped mountain
Or ever climbed the highest peak
But he shows me words and lays them at my feet.
I see the baseball field where my friends and I would play
And I see the patch of grass where my head would lay.
I see myself laying there as the world passes by
Counting every cloud that’s high up in the sky.
I feel the summer breeze as it passes through my hair
Ever so gentle- much more than I could bare.
I climbed up higher at least sixty feet above the ground
Just so I could hear all those familiar sounds.
The birds singing tunes to delight the ears
Wiping away all those childish fears.
I gazed across the park taking in all the sights
Watching younger children in the sprinklers
Jumping with delight.
I felt myself getting light headed, but not because of the height
But because of the words which I knew I could not fight.
So I climbed down from the tree , and said a little prayer
For the words he had given me
I knew that I must share.
This was my first inkling for what was in store for me
That was when I knew- I had to write poetry.
© L. RAMS
Divorce robbed him of surprise,
left him disused,
parts of his brain tingled less,
he grew blasé, he had to improvise,
extemporize parts
that were less prone to rust and mold.
It seemed he was a bare broom,
one that could no longer sweep away
a rising sense of purposeless.
Then it was that a new surprise found him,
he began to make yesteryear trinkets
knickknacks held together
with a duct-taped nostalgia.
Walking sticks and old-school picket fences
were carved from the bones of his memory.
Other doohickeys such as
paperweights for light-headed ideas,
or knickknacks to fill in
those awkward holes in people’s lives.
Success returned, so did a new wife.
She had a lever, a jack,
to hydraulicly lift him up
when he occasionally sagged.
She used superglue on all his loose bits.
It’s wonderful what a new lick of paint can do.
I sense Him..' I feel light-headed, there is the rush of blood to my muscles, His power descends...
My mind is opened, words form; fitting together
Visions reel in my minds eye, and in my eyes.)
I feel trembley... I face an abyss of self-doubt,
Is it me.? No its not; I try to come to terms with
This reality, for the how many hundreth time..?
Let go..Let go.) And hold onto this inflow, how this
Contradicts my analytical mindset, I am lost in the
Finding of my purpose, He must become part of me
I understand the symbology I am grafted in.' What
I think I do: is not the right understanding It is ' us' And I am not worthy...Not at all' let me lay in the Dust Lord, for I fear at your prescence, and yet it
Is still not an adequate description of yourself.'
Liars..Deceivers..You who coat His reality in the
Sweet taste of imagination.' Who has seen His fire?
Have you watched Him divide the elements? If so
Then you will be more able to understand the word
'Fear' when you are 'weighed' in the balance.' When Surrounding existence holds its breath, but that is still
Not a right enough description, for 'He' Owns that 'Breath' also, All is subject to him.. He calls the wind and it
Waits on His whim, He is the Almighty God from everlasting to everlasting, Uncountless people and
Spirits bow and serve Him gladly, He Is He who was and Is and Is to come.'
As the days are long my nights are short with hopes of dreams of you
The fragrance of the night settles into the cool contort of dew
Light headed I feel ready to pass out to see my new world
I feel the embrace of unity that gathers our souls and spirits
Together we touch in romance of our heart with no doubts
Something grasps my hand to tell me it is OK, because I am here to stay
The promises that is within is always able to leave, but settles
And stays in me with your words that does not make me grieve
Whispers of gentleness that caress my belief, mind, and love
In my dream I fall so far from grace that your hand grabs me
It holds me up till I can get back on my feet with thee
My life in this dream is all about being with you, with tender heart
I come to seek you every night never asking for more than your words
I seek you in my dream to be blessed in your grace
My hope of elope is just that moment in time, yet pausing forever
This slow emotion that is unknown to me, it tells me your whisper
I love you with every breathe I take, and I will breathe for you
Every night I dream of you, and I feel you embracing me to heal
I hold you tight no matter what I dream of you every night
My night is short but love is never, I wake up with brightness that show
My eyes open for a moment a vision of you then I smile so
Deep that my childhood expression shows through and through
The Soup
Herald the song of the poet and poetess…
The muse, the art of words, chased across paper by pen.
Not unlike a pirate and a princess, a hero and a queen.
My time here among those that fly, has been short.
But and yet, (pause)…I am grateful to be here at all.
The wings of some, full feathered, birds leave me knowing I will fall.
I am unskilled and often feel light headed.
Yet the chirping sounds, the longing calls, the very cooing utterances,
of veterans and beginners all and as one…
lift my unsteady, unready wings ever higher,
than I thought possible, to still breathe…at all!
Giants walk hard and angels pass lightly,
both leave prints on our lives ever lasting.
Comments on words, words on paper,
dreams and fragments of tensile.
Thank you to the soup.
Ann
Spiderwebbed folds hang
from thin arms.
A circle of lamplight
is his exercise yard.
Daylight is a brief fluttering wing
against closed eyelids.
Night floats above him,
and in those dark hours
he feels a light-headed immunity
from the gravity
of open graves.
Outside in the hard-wired clamor,
buses and trucks growl up droning hills.
Sink holes open and shut
within a rushing sky.
Order and chaos are ushered in and out
of crazy-eyed cats.
Sometimes his mind
is a wheezy colostrum
of milky effusions.
He paints himself with one finger
in the air.
The dying man hitchhikes under a hand,
feels the warmth of anything in full bloom.
He sighs, then gurgles like a coffee pot.
The wispy guy remains,
always sinking ever upwards
toward what - he knows not,
however, it’s not here
so, he doesn't care.
Immerse yourself in life
Get soaked to the marrow
Throw yourself in its fire
Get burnt to the core
...Drink it in…
Get intoxicated to the heart
Inhale it…
Till you are light headed and giddy
Embrace life with… PASSION
Get hurt, get bruised, get scarred….bleed
But don’t be a coward!
Refuse to hide your heart!
Don’t be afraid to live…LIVE!
Be intense….Be consumed….Be overcome…
Be passionate! Passionate!! Passionate!!!
Without it you are a body without a soul
An empty shell…beautiful to look at…. to touch…only once
But not enticing enough to be desired or experienced
Oh, be passionate…
For the love of life….LIVE!
He found the road long and lonely.
From this seemingly endless trek to monotony,
He wished to enter a world, luminous and exciting;
A world spun in iridescent colors and shades.
He ventured to experiment with life
And in due course slipped into psychedelic pleasures.
As curls of cigarette smoke
Were expelled out from his nostrils
He floated on waves of psychedelic delight.
A buzzing sensation swept across all his nerves.
Overstepping the margins of reason
He slipped into a state of altered reality
Euphoria pulsed through his body from head to foot
Got transported into a fantasy world.
He savored the explosions of joy bubbles
And indulged in strange sensory delights.
The hippie culture cast a magic spell in him.
Fell in love with the insidious drug LSD
And often retreated into an illusory paradise,
With nothing tormenting his body or mind,
Reveling in the bliss of its comforting warmth.
The drug became part of his daily routine.
He experienced moments so surreal
Felt flying, floating and soaring in ether.
Living hallucinogenic, he didn’t know
How to keep himself sane or become light headed,
Without a hit of heroin or cocaine.
He was getting addicted to it day by day.
But the drug was slowly proving chaotic.
The pleasant short term therapeutic outcome of the drug
Was overshadowed by many of its tormenting effects
Exposed to irritability, fatigue, spasms and tremors,
He was becoming a menace to himself and others.
Relying on the drug always to fend off his affliction,
He was like an insect trapped in a web
And a hungry arachnid spinning shackles around him.
Thus, from psychedelic pleasures,
He moved into psychedelic trauma.
I drive around a bi-cycle
a cycle bike psycho
at night a light’s on
my-ma (ma) mountain bike
oh it’s a little delightful
my seat on my cycle
I ride all night on
my-ma (ma) mountain bike
I’ll jump the curbs in acceleration,
and pedal push to my destination,
don’t pay road tax, my declaration,
no f... that, drivers hold frustration
Oh
Oi
These trucks get way to close
thinking they own the roads
Woah
Oi
they test test test my nerve,
these flucking bus ankers
I drive around a bi-cycle
a cycle bike psycho
at night a light’s on
my-ma (ma) mountain bike
oh it’s a little delightful
my seat on my cycle
I ride all night on
my-ma (ma) mountain bike
dirty dank fumes got me spacey
light headed it sways me
others walk or run but I go this way
I like to ride my bi-cycle
I'm cycle bike psycho
all day and night on
my-ma (ma) mountain bike
It must be said, some mouth opinions
you cyclists all smell like onions
which is mean
so I thump them and nick their keys
I speed on
oi oi
and I say ha ha ha you cannot drive your car
they say
woah woah
as I fly fly fly fly over the handlebars
I crashed into an Aygo
a Toyota Aygo
the wheel's mangled on
my ma (ma) mountain bike
I wasn't looking where I go
when I hit an Aygo
so I'm in mourn for
my ma (ma) mountain bike
in a hospital room
going crazy
fresh air seems tasty
they say ha ha can't ride your bike today
I think karma's a bastard
it put me in plaster
and now they have to
ha ha (ha) help me s**t
ma (ma) mountain bike
(oh) mountain bike
(mountain bike) ohh
Hear the song copy and paste link below
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n6wawuYE5s&index=3&list=PLrWXQQOwWgeAzG8lMiXPHNQeO_aFFxhLi
I told my boss this was a job I didn’t relish
Reports so far deemed this Elfin war rather hellish.
Troops had crossed the border and entered the valley.
So far we didn’t have a death or injury tally.
I entered the tavern, only a mile from the enemy line.
The locals seemed relaxed and all seemed fine.
I sat at a table with three burly men drinking beer.
They didn't seem to mind me being here.
Introduced myself as a war correspondent.
After I ordered them all another beer they were very respondent.
Eager to tell me what they knew of the Elfin war.
At that time, I didn’t realize what I had in store.
I urged them to go on and tell me much more
Soon others in the pub, heard the tales and began to chip in.
First hand accounts of fighting they saw, I hardly knew where to begin.
Seems the fighting was very tactical. The rebels would advance to attack,
The allied Army was ready and their weapons would force them back.
Evidentially a local man, a sergeant of note, was injured by a blast.
He wandered in the way of a hand grenade, on his patrol as he passed.
Most stories were of artillery fire being heard in the morning hours.
Patrons of the tavern didn't seem too perturbed about the rebels powers.
Confidence reined in the army from what they could see.
The publican joined us with a round of beer saying these are free.
”Laddy, I am sure you’ll want to mention this home spun brew.
The best brewed beer and everyone loves it, your readers will too.
It’s called Ellery Tavern Lager. We make it right here in town.”
“He’ll only be interested if the mongrels burn the factory down”
I was feeling light headed, lost count of the number of beers I had.
Went to stand up and realized I was feeling rather shaky and quite bad.
My trusty tape recorder, had some good stories for me to write.
Wandering out to get some fresh air I took some photos before night.