Long Marriages Poems
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In the labyrinth of time, where truth and lies dance,
I wander among the shadows of thoughts, seeking wisdom's light,
Wondering why, in recent centuries, the learned have lost their way in the mist,
While the simple have carried the flicker of truth in their palms.
I see around me puppets of knowledge, moved by invisible strings,
Institutions like sandcastles, built on the foundation of illusion,
Where elites weave their web of power, wrapping the world in propaganda's silk,
And we, blind and deaf, dance to their rhythm, not knowing that we don't know.
I float on waves of collective memory, among fragments of distorted reality,
Where ideas are born mutilated, where truth is sanitized in sterile laboratories,
Where gender and identity are color splotches in a chaotic kaleidoscope,
And science bows to ideology, like an old oak in a storm.
I hear the echo of voices from outside the walls of academia,
Organic intellectuals, wild flowers in the garden of conformity,
They are the seeds of thought revolution, the germ of change,
But who listens to them in the din of prefabricated information?
I wonder, with a heavy heart and a foggy mind,
How long until the mask falls,
Until we see that the king is naked, that the emperor has no clothes,
That the institutions we've pinned our hopes on are houses of cards?
I see educated people believing in chimeras, in ghosts of progress,
Fifty-eight genders dancing on the edge of absurdity,
Marriages reinvented, science decolonized, a world upside down,
And I think of the wise words: "Only intellectuals can believe such nonsense."
In this night of consciousness, under the starry sky of unanswered questions,
I pray it's not too late when the veil falls,
When educated and uneducated realize they've been fooled,
That the hearts of those in power beat to the rhythm of money, not compassion.
So I wander further in the labyrinth of thoughts,
Seeking not answers, but better questions,
Hoping that somewhere, in the mist of the future,
Truth will rise like a new sun, illuminating the minds and hearts of all.
I've never been married but I'm a spouse as I'm
partnered with the spirit
These false marriages are underhanded so pay
close attention to discern it
Some things attach because they're desperate to live
through you & what you have
If you look closely it's not adding up but yet & still
it's about the math
Sadly this is where we're at after all the places we could
& should have been
We're engaged in battles without our knowledge but
the truth always fights to win
These soul ties are bound to happen & sometimes the
binds expose their flaws
Before you know it you're caught in the current being
swept away by natural law
Sometimes contracts are signed with disregard to what's
best for you & your inner self
Always take stock before you invest as it will affect your
inner wealth
They move with stealth to throw you off but keep your
balance & walk the line
Beware of false marriages as they cross boundaries as
well as spiritual & legal lines
Some bear false witness telling lies but this was always
how it would go
Eventually the masks will slip to expose the face that
was always meant to show
My hands hold the bars
I’m a good prisoner
Hoping to be let out for good behaviour
Head down
not meeting my jailers eyes
At night when the lights are off
When the moon is in the sky
When men cough and moan in the darkness
I reach through the bars towards the stars
My finger traces that golden orb
My mind explores pin pricks of silver
Traveling light years in mere seconds
no longer held by concrete and steel
When my jailers look at me
They don’t realize that I am a free man
Only my body is held in this place
Where a man’s thoughts travel
there resides his soul
Men are held in many prisons
Expectations
Past traumas
Loveless marriages
Addictions
Regrets
They think
“If I hold onto the bars
keep my head down
Perhaps I’ll get out early for good behaviour?”
All the while not realizing that when they face a mirror
they are looking into their jailer’s eyes.
as of December ( 2000)
all request for marriages
are to be expressed in writing by
both Bride and Groom.
these writing are then to
be kept on file by
the church secretary,
and may be viewed by those
member of each family to
have a visual aide, when
church counseling is done
to talk to family member
about certain issues.
see the secretary for further detail's.
member of the banquet committee
are to meet on the third Friday before
Easter. Details of the meeting
is to allocate the funds for the
summer celebration
and the fall celebration.
Fund raisers for each event will be
held during the summer
and the fall.
Our annual steak night will
be held in accordance to the steak rules.
we will hold elections for the new president.
the ballot box will be placed in the dining
room. the election will
be held on Sunday March 4 , if your name
is on the ballot please be in attendance.
Chariot is a delightful dragon,
She sits upon a healthy pumpkin patch.
She gifts them out to her friends by wagon,
But sometimes puzzled by when eggs will hatch.
You see her nested eggs are orange too,
And they are mixed in with rows of pumpkins.
Sometime when she loads the wagon, a few…
Of her children head to their town; Thumbkin!
The mayor did decree that children meld,
And from this end marriages did occur.
And all prejudices so promptly fell,
Upon times, Chariot would speak her word…
“Pumpkins and children are one and the same,
‘Nature's true beauty’, the name of the game!”
Saturday, November 27, 2021
He was the sweetest human being she had ever met,
His heart was full of love, and he was ready to bestow it all on her.
He could not keep this hidden,
It was in his eyes,
In the way his smile turned up when she turned up.
He could not keep it contained, his joy for her.
She was terrified of what he wanted to give,
For he wanted to give her everything
And she was but sixteen.
She had proms, and graduations, and college to look forward to.
She did not plan on being a farmer’s wife, and he wanted to farm almost as much as he wanted her.
The pressure was great. She went to college and did not look back.
Feeling guilty, sometimes, when she looked at photos of their class reunions.
Reunions she did not attend.
She did not come back to her hometown
Until she had experienced love, and heartache, and the failure of two marriages.
She could not feel guilty for not loving him.
You love who you love.
Right?
She went to church, and was amazed that he was the minister now.
Confident, wonderful, respected, loved by an entire congregation.
She never knew that he still wanted her.
He was an honorable man, so he kept it to himself. Loving a woman all of his life
Who did not have feelings for him.
She left, irritated with him, because he was not heart-sick, or angry, or mean.
He was still the sweetest human being she had ever met, it was in his eyes.
There is a light on my front porch I turned it on in memory
Not just for the baby Caylee
But for all of the children who die daily
We mourn and cry and are justly outraged
When we hear of such atrocities and read of them on every page
But it is not just the children it is people of every age
Senseless killing and blatant neglect
Marriages and homes hourly wrecked
But in satans world what else would you expect
Watch out for number 1 cause no 1 is watching for you
Respect is earned through violence and the brand name on your shoe
The kingdoms of his world he offers over to you and in exchange you give your soul
cause you've nothing better to do
Desensitized and mesmerized by shiny things and fame
We worship at his alter as his angels of light blaspheme Gods name
We play and seek after every hypnotizing game
Blind we are and blind we lead
Not seeing not caring not hearing the pleas
We talk and do nothing as the innocent continue to bleed
06 July 2011 5:30 AM
If love is an adrenalin rush,
Hate oft turns to huge shove from a push.
Marriages be if saved,
A mid path must be paved…
That means: you better beat round the bush!
______________________________________
With lockdowns in place for long, and working from home becoming a norm, husbands and wives tend to see too much of them, and too much familiarity…., we know this.
Tongue-in-cheek |04.05.2021|
Poet’s note: The COVID pandemic, especially in its second avatar, has left people feeling totally helpless. They are literally at their wits end as to what to do and what not what with social media flooded with dos and don’ts. But when human writ fails to reach, wit seems to be the only clutch to hold on to. Hope, this limerick would lighten the grey mood.
It was just an affair of convenience,
No love or other emotion al stuff,
Just meeting for sessions of sex
Because neither was getting enough.
There was certainly sexual attraction
And our sex was really the best,
Sometimes hour’s long sessions
Broken only when one needed a rest.
I couldn’t keep my hands off her
And she really was just the same
Until we reached the door to leave
And finished our exciting game.
The weeks we couldn’t be together
We’d meet for as long as we could
For inventive sex sessions
In car park or a local wood.
I think we became an addiction
Each knowing the others taste
So of that time spent together
Not a second went to waste.
I remember our final session
Because they were moving away
And we managed to arrange
To be together most of that day.
And we spent it so creatively
As though this last day we must
For one final time fully exploit
And enjoy our equally shared lust
Just an affair of convenience
Keeping two marriages strong
Such an affair of convenience
Nearly fifteen years or so long.
She suddenly came back to memory
For I saw her up town somewhere
We stood and chatted for a little while
Each with grandchild in its push chair
We both smiled as we recalled
Those frustrating times we waited
Between our times together
When our appetites were sated.
Ecclesiastes 3 King James Version (KJV)
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
Time passes as the lay of the land calls
the tread of the seekers and penitents.
The sun God Apollo reigned overall,
beauty, wisdom, healing bought him acclaim.
The land of Provence is full of the fruit of life,
a cornucopia of bounty grows in hallowed
valleys along the slopes of the Maritime Alps-
all which can grow, will grow here.
Centuries pass and the lay of the land calls,
cross the sea from Palestine comes Maximin
to the shores, with Magdalene through the squalls
in Larzarus’ boat. A small chapel, he begins.
Dedicated to the Holy Saviour (le Saint Sauveur)
Sainted Maximinus of Aix grew his flock.
Time passes as the lay of the land calls;
the Saracens invade, fell the chapel’s hall.
No war, or plague, stopped the rebuilding of walls.
St-Sauveur rose again a place of worship for all.
A thousand years and more have passed in this sacred space,
a thousand years of birth, and marriages and death.
A thousand years and more, still song rises as the
choir sings, the organ’s pipes sound a youthful swell.
*This is a French form called Descort which
calls for the use of more than two strophes
First Published by Mused: Bella Online