Long Masking Poems
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Through the piercing silence of the night
Echoes the soul grasping sound
Of the ethereal howling of a pack of wolves
Their song is carried across the air
Over the tree tops to a place of forever
The full moon glows an aura of wonderment
Wolves wail to this celestial body in honor of it
Metaphorically, they are attempting to connect
With ideas that lie dormant in the subconscious
Just below the surface
Like undisturbed stones that nestle comfortably
In the sand upon the apex of a smooth flowing river
Always there but obstructed from view
What secrets reside within us
Waiting to be discovered?
For it is in sleep the unconscious whispers to us,
Shall we lie quietly and listen?
If you don’t cross the bridge
You will never know what’s on the other side
So, if we were not meant to eat
There would be no hunger
Therefore the subconscious must serve a purpose
Who says that logic is the only reality?
I have awakened, to feast my eyes
Upon a gigantic sphinx
Silently it observes me and smirks
A sly, cunning smile masking
Its many mysteries and knowledge
What secrets will be revealed
To me on this night if I listen?
A vast bonfire blazes, and as it cackles
The flames reach above to the star filled sky
Surrounded by spectators, I see a fox, and a coyote
As a glimmering golden hawk accompanied by
A mystical red phoenix encircle the sight, uttering
Words of wisdom, which spread over the ocean of
Canyons creating an echo in which the mountains
Respond in unison, surely there is a message here
Each brilliant star suddenly transposes itself into lines
Of letters, I gaze in awe at the wondrous words
Glittering like silver beads stretching the expanse of
The universe, all unfamiliar, yet tantalizing, languages
From ages ago, no longer spoken, however readily co-existing
Along side modern speech and thought, what may I learn
If I were to study these ancient gems of communication?
Therefore,
I am ready to fly with the essence of the night
Begin a quest into another realm
Of human awareness
Seeking out words and ideas
To bring back
For it is here that thoughts originate
A journey into the other side of myself
Where logic has no relevance
And imagination has no limitations
As the pirate who prepares to unearth
A buried treasure
Okay kill the lights
Close your eyes
Prepare for take-off
The rain keeps coming,
Masking tears of despair, and rivers of agony
Seem in no hurry to crest
In this orb that is my world, I stand in frozen animation
As I listen to the venom of tangled tongues and crooked lips
Then hear the critique of the man in the street
I stop to analyze and find that nothing is said, just a horde
Of ghastly lies
My heart grows heavy, and my chest tightens.
As anger builds, my lungs feel the fire of the now forsaking
Breath, the pain is real,
And I contemplate my fate
In this world of mine
The sun is sad and the moon weeps,
And the walls inch closer.
As my neck plays a melody of twisting knots, my shoulders
Feel as if stomped by the passion of a flamenco dance.
As my temples lament the torment of this harrowing crescendo.
From a place called malice and rage, hate and contempt
Send bouquets,
But in the glory of this floral splendor, lies deceit,
The bewitching fragrance of the day.
And serpents of a human Ilk, their minds filled with disdain and
Spite, come to feed upon my life,
As their minions nibble,
I question my sanity
In this world of mine
Is the theatre of suffering,
Where shadows of rage cloak, a dominion of corruption,
And evil keeps a watchful eye,
And vultures with hearts bitter and cold, stalk,
As if waiting for a carrion to be born, that a feast may begin.
And in this presence of immorality,
Void is the integrity of soul.
As I listen to the wind, I hear the voice of purpose,
And in the verses of the night, Is the message of the day
And the lessons taught,
Are real
In this world of mine
As this deluge of decadence baths a candid soul,
I strive to be freed, from the afflictions
Of being.
And amid the craving for contentment, I beg,
For deliverance,
And rest my fate at the foot of the mountain, for there
Lies truth.
In my meditation, eager I am to see behind the light
And reconnect with the presence within,
For it is there that I hear the sunshine in your voice,
And see the laughter in your eyes.
It is there that courage is present, and I am fraught with the
Effervescence of your smile,
And your face is vibrant
And passion enriches me,
And I, am reborn
In this world of mine
Earl S. Jackson
July 2014
Copyright © 2014 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
In my world nevertheless, these reasons compels me to be alone
For no one can even begin to comprehend to things of unknown
Whether a curse or a deliverance to befall upon me
I have not a choice, neither here nor there to ever be
And having lived an unpredictable life faithfully such as mine
I would redeem myself in The Ancients, as long I be given time
Therefore… with the future to unfold, I have resolved myself to serve
If not to ensave, death as penalty is an afterall I’m to deserve
Let us be on with our way, for the night is to be awaken soon
With luck, let there be light to guide us from beneath the moon”
{As I sheath my metal, I stood my ground and awaited for her
Awaiting… for perhaps a miracle which may yet draws near
This single hope stayed with me as I followed Alkaiya along
Finally knowing as well, this is indeed the world I belong
After what seem forever, we decidedly stop for a moment’s rest
An unfounded moment, for myself I’m unable to simply outlast
There were stones, darken rocks masking the wilderness around
The unsettling settles… as my time as always is to bound
Sitting in my bed once more, I am without quiet relief awoken
For return is but my recounted nightmare of what time beckons
Before my next entry to come, will perhaps be one even harder
As it is the last moment to recall, we have stumbled upon the Heaori Chamber}
In my world I am but a no one
A no one to everyone else who doesn’t believe
Given is another world I can run
Yet… its essentially hard to remain well receive
Little did I thought I have escaped it all
Little am I to know, my service to the Word retains
With many months ago since to ignore
A certainty is certainly less worthy for complains
Back into The Ancients I return once again
Back into hidden love, back into unfavourable dreams
How else if nothing else is to remain?
If not in my world but to have the other world bring
Time and again, the time of the unknown revisits
Always with a meaning deeper than before to believe
Time after time with my mind to battle and weep
Am I aged with enough faith to take another leap?
A chamber where dreams meet fate
Do I possess the strength to enter for dreams to come true?
Will I ever be regrettably too late?
To prevent the death of Alkaiya to be undoubtedly real
………………………………………………..
This responds to “Operation Raise the Colours,” where some have painted the St. George’s Cross across streets, roundabouts, and takeaway shops. Claimed as patriotism, these acts are vandalism and an attempt to erase community spaces and stirring division.
Red bleeds across zebra lines,
slick on high street asphalt,
smearing over takeaway shutters,
stretched across roundabouts, stubborn as lead.
Rollers scrape and flake,
pigment cheap, sunlight shakes it loose,
drips into puddles,
history seeping through plaster,
like damp under primer that never hides the past.
The streets run red and white,
paint claimed by hands insistent on marking stone, brick, asphalt—
silence made loud in streaks and drips.
Roundabouts stand proud under fresh layers.
Slash Dulux over despair—
coverage meant to hide, but failing.
Paint bleeds over more than tarmac—
onto takeaway windowpanes, footpaths, shop signs—
a mural of identity, impulse, defiance.
Undercoat logic tries to cover the past,
but no sealant ever lasts.
Brushstroke patriots,
emotion disciples,
armed with rollers like substitute rifles.
The painting’s wrap is hollow,
decorating decline as if it were fate.
Every slogan,
a stencil sprayed on the breeze.
Pigment flakes with ease,
truth showing through the layers.
Heritage red becomes eviction scarlet,
brilliant white papered over target.
Crowns drip Crown paint onto stone,
monarchs in tester pots,
empires reduced to monochrome.
Borders cut by shaky hands,
masking tape straining against the straight line of intention.
Private bleeding edges,
lines never straight.
Revolutions run off into puddles of hate,
mirroring the sky distorted,
clouds stretched, colors torn thin.
Tins are stirred, paint slapped on the ground.
Every revolution circles round,
because property cannot be glossed,
despair cannot be mapped.
Whitewashed roundabouts cannot hide the cracks.
Paint peels, drips, bleeds into puddles,
but the fissures of history remain—
veins in stone, stories in asphalt,
layers no roller can erase.
Crowns, crosses, streaks of red and white
twirl and fall like the last dance
over streets that remember,
over walls that refuse to forget.
The cracks take the floor,
silent but insistent,
and they will not be painted over.
A glimpse of heavenly bliss taken away |
My heart sinks as I can longer find |
For you, I willingly have trusted |
But you left, not even a glance back |
Didn't care to see the pain |
Didn't care to see the fragile heart |
To which a piece of it was broken |
Since the day you chose to be careless |
Sometimes I just want to give up |
It just hurts me for you no longer cherish |
Why can’t I have that same mentality? |
Yet, foolishly, here I am still holding on |
All I’m stuck with are distant memories |
Yet, the absolute and bitter part of it all |
Are the majestic memories you left with me |
Ones that are worth to hold onto for a lifetime |
But every time I think about it, I relive it |
Every time I relive it, I feel my heart bleed |
Something so beautiful just to be thrown away |
It been better, had it never happened |
But you're not here to treat my wound |
Oblivious to my agonizing pain |
Only because I chose to conceal the truth |
Masking it within to not complicate your life |
But one can’t help but ask |
How could you have not noticed? |
Would you intentionally left me in the dark? |
To become estranged from a bond we once built on? |
It is only then, I begin to put a wall |
A wall that will never be broken down |
To not only protect myself from others |
But to protect others from me |
No longer able to trust or depend |
Unwilling to give my love or affection |
Who really knows what lies behind that smile? |
Everything I once believed in, cease to exist |
Nothing but words of deception; acts that kill |
Countless encounters, but only a few |
To whom I gave my all; my inner self |
It’s not easy for me, for I don’t trust many |
But only because a promise was made |
That you were the real deal; the true friend |
One who could not be altered to turn the other way |
But you have abandoned me; left me but a few words |
Left me when I needed you the most |
Leaving me stranded in the midst of confusion |
Made me to believe that I was unworthy |
Undeserving of an explanation or goodbye |
Initially, you rescued me from my own darkness |
You helped me to see my possible future in bright colors… |
Now, the only inspiration I have that keeps me going |
Is hopelessly writing about my once past tragedy |
"Remove all shackles that take away your bliss. Enjoy a blissful life " Quote by author
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Following innumerable rules,
A life of bondage we live
Copying others, trying to be same
Scared what others may think
We never lead life our way
Dressing up to please others
In our best behaviour to impress
Wanting to prove we are the best
We literally live for others
Our real self hidden behind a facade
Without a thought about its feelings
Egoistic humans still criticize us
Is it worth it? Why not be true?
Rip the rules that bind
Rip the fears that make you timid
Use your brain and live sensibly
Pave way for a much-needed change
Still a kid at heart, behaving like an adult
Wanting to cry, controlling emotions
Dressing up for society, not as per comfort
Whole life is a saga of falsehood
Our happiness and peace long forgotten
Our opinions crushed daily dying within
How perfectly we copy others
Determines our success in life
Blindly following what parents told
Without thinking why we should do
Afraid of being a laughing stock
We lead an unintelligent life
Why not be your true self
Live for your inner bliss
Same inside out, no masking
Am sure many would follow
All are stifled from within
Wanting a solution but scared
Why not be brave and lead
Many would be thankful to you
Look at animals, no rules to obey
They live for self not for others
Enjoying every moment of existence
Much we can learn from surround
Our life is short, anytime it can end
Still we bother so much about world
Scriptures say we are not body but soul
We just don't bother to find out more
A puppet to senses and world
Is this right way of living?
So many things that we need to rip
To see the truth and be truthful
We have to tear the illusion that we are body
We need to tear our egoistic tendencies
Tear all our desires that rob us of our peace
See soul, live for soul and God and inner joy.
27.06.2021
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bhagvad Gita 2.11: The Supreme Lord said: While you speak words of wisdom, you are mourning for that which is not worthy of grief. The wise lament neither for the living nor for the dead.
Contest Name: LET ER RIP #3
Sponsor : John lawless
Oh fallen star of Bethlehem, your established moment shines,
upon canvas of harsh intent, descendent of heavenly design?
A mighty angel’s leading light to those befallen, pleasure-bent?
Are gleaming eyes masking spites or, our demands, aspiring content?
Looking toward skies o’er Bethlehem, as prides of mortal men delight;
bearing gifts; coffered obedience, marking paths, Magi alight.
When losing sight of stellar sign, in Jerusalem they did quick inquire,
at palace great, to a king divined; hoped route, from Herod, to acquire.
II
We saw a star (when in the east) and have come to render our obeisance,
said light has left us briefly, too the wakes of our continuance.
While in the kingdom his star was seen, glancing eyes into glass orbs stared.
Expectant sighs at skies portending, bejeweled fingers into cauldrons stirred.
A caravan of mystics then gathering, consigned to cross harsh lands at night.
Postured gifts, too much appeasing, a source of imminences, expelling light.
Great Herod stirred with agitation, “Summon to me, scribes and priest,”
and they spoke to him of Bethlehem, from whence shall come a Jewish King.
Elsewhere God’s swift messenger, arrives with tidings of glad news:
Rejoice! Rejoice for the Lamb’s shepherd! Blessed are borne Jacob’s sons to truth.
That one drawing light from the light’s giver, firstborn of heaven’s womb.
He has taken breath that men be delivered, fear no more, door’s enclosing tombs.
III
One question, in cautious need; discerns plucked from common threads.
What purposed such judicious leads, as that star’s light to Jesus led?
What cause that such symbol did cease, perhaps a plan most devious shed?
To turn also eyes of Herod east, these, jealous guards of scriptures read.
Oh bright stars over Christendom, look! Your beam’s a turning compass,
your ray, as flames with many tongues, scouring Earth in hopes of bliss.
Misleading truths, mounting traditions, swallowed lies drunk from waters shallow.
The wise one is made fool again, if needs a lamp, above a Christ we can follow.
With signs, divinities are misconstrued, as such, a star; still you teach our youth?
As light into the night deludes, beware, convincing knees to bending truths.
My heart races touching your deep Spirit's kiss,
The softness of your voice soothes my abyss.
My tear's curb crumbles greening my shrink cry.
My soul torn apart wondering to know why.
Wrong thoughts, so cruel wait the fear to tape
The terrors of love to give them a new shape.
And my loneliness is a shadowy yard
When to sink my reality it's so hard.
In murky ponds of suffocating tadpole
I jag my edges tearing my sad soul,
Which once is tied with bleeding strips to yours
Will twist my fate with the flick of my gray hours.
I wait my hope which will never come to be.
This hope hunger squeezes tighter my soul's knee.
I'm clinging to the past where I want to hide
That part of me that is still alive inside.
While I wait the ocean waves to wash my soul
Big storms can rise up from the horns of your hole.
Much more confused on how to think or feel,
I talk, I dream and I am your balance wheel.
I can live with death while love is a wasteland
When the end comes around against my soul's gland
As showy as the white chalk on a blackboard
And I could lose my way but I pray to Lord.
I wonder if I will feel your love again
Even I accept my resignation's chain
Like an inner sorrow coming on my lip,
Like a song of my flute for my ocean's sleep,
Like a fire fathom scratching my blue rain,
Like a wish to taste you when I strive in vain,
Like a deep taste you place on my rudest wish,
Or like the wish you place on my thinking swish.
Floating are your words rain for my misty cloud,
You can still hang out with my feelings crowd.
When I'm dressed in white masking a selfless gray,
I have my honest smile and nothing to say.
Crops from your soul break the reason of my thought
And break my soul because I love you a lot.
Your body's heat cannot hit my soul's weeps
'Cause my pure thoughts are crowned with white wisps.
You defy my body's weep because it's chaste
And I don't understand what you need to taste.
I'm tired of you, I live with divine things.
I may see your sorrow is rose with black wings.
With your betrayal my love is wont to flow
And I know that your feelings will never glow.
MCN: C3RC5-ESU38-Y6SY8
© copyright Fri Mar 04 07: 11: 10 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
good morning
good night
i walked the shadows of hidden meadows until there was a sign to the right,
you were bathing in the light, then it all fell flat
good morning
good night
ride along and sing a song with vague attempts of interpretation,
a transatlantic whirlpool of twisting and turning emotion,
good morning
good night
i'm sorry that karma took a small hit,
but it wasn't my intention
good morning
good night
perhaps this connection is a singularly demented projection upon failing stars
whose shine still glitter but with shadows of fear
good morning
good night
smiling involuntarily is a beautiful thing I'm sure,
especially at matters of such insignificance,
good morning
good night
one strides a rhythmic cadence as the little one jaunts with such carefree joy
and big picture indifference
good morning
good night
it's memory prevention week so I'm setting traps to bring the backhanded troll
to justice, it's a pretty penny to forgive and forget, my inheritance a bitter
serenity absorbing youthful anxiety
good morning
good night
stars cluster unaware of our constant stare, some have the look of shame,
masking hatred, they're twinkling smiling faces protecting the ones to blame
good morning
good night
nothing takes aim at the gaps and empty spaces that go on and on, and then
even after that they go beyond, not so much as a truth or dare of importance,
more or less an allowance, an embrace
good morning
good night
of course there's courage but it's arrogance that gets the job done, with a split
personality the lion awaits a cautious blend
good morning
goodnight
the truth of the matter preys pretend and colors splatter in a failed attempt to
matter, one way is the same all day, baring stops an road blocks along the way
good morning
good night
the hours played sleepless depravation, no breeze, no oscillation, a simple man I
am not, from where I've come a curious lot
good morning
good night
after all has been said and nothing has been done, there is the missing, and the
knowledge and the truth, but in the end we'll start over again
good morning
good night
Form:
I only said it, to make you smile back
You wouldn't say it back
I like to shy away from the world
To silence the thoughts
don't have to think about the camera girl
With soft locks
Just stick my head in a book, my masking mistook
I think I killed the atmosphere
It's okay, it wasn't so great in here
Some say my vocabulary is full blown
And some say I'm a misanthrope
Oh ho, you couldn't wait to say hi
Is she looking at us? just smile and wave
I don't know what she's saying
Does she want us to come over?
You do it, now say it
Oh you disappoint me
She's a party girl if I ever saw one
And I only saw one in my brother’s black room
Air always smelled like a Hippie reunion
And I'm pretty sure they were all doing shrooms
She's a Rhythmic, non-cynic, hygienic class act
She likes to speak like a debaucherous Nazz
I don't know what I want
But I know what I need is her
Stay right here
I'll get the girl
Can't sleep as I think of a song
I can't remember the words but it went bom bom bom bom
my wind, my world
Ah, Those dreams with my girl
Ever notice in the life of your dreams
You're never self-loathing, or nervous or mean
It's so fine
Good times
All sorts of lives
With her hand in mine
Time and time again, I'm on the far side of Earth
They say it's different as you get old
But I doubt I'll stop myself from looking too dumb
Where is that so called spirit you speak of?
"Oh stop, you silly boy.
I told you I like you as a friend.
Oh is this for me? Why thank you.
We're still just friends.
Oh my now you say you love me.
We were just friends a week ago.
You're too attached.
It's okay, we all get that way sometimes.
Here, let's go for a ride."
"See all the boys think of me as a temptress
Like I use guys and make them do my bidding.
But you'll find I'm just trying to be nice.
We can't all be lovey dovey.
What's a girl to do?"
Feeling sappy on my own
I know someday I'd make you turn
Well it's the classical pneumonic state you're in
I can’t believe this wild wicked sin
It's in your genes, it's in your blood
It's 90 degrees
Let's flood flood flood
Time to do it tonight