Long Meaningful Poems
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Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
The poem "VANTABLACK" exhibits a profound exploration of emotions and existential themes. As a poet, one would appreciate the nuanced use of language and the depth of introspection conveyed through the verses.
The title, "VANTABLACK," immediately draws attention to the darkest substance known, emphasizing a profound sense of darkness or void that permeates the poem. The tumultuous street and the notion in flight evoke a sense of chaos and uncertainty, setting the stage for the emotional journey that follows.
The poet skillfully employs imagery and metaphor to convey the complex emotions experienced. The notion that "hastens in haste" and then "averts its gaze" suggests a fleeting and elusive quality, mirroring the transient nature of emotions. The descent of the heart's echo into a "crimson abyss" hints at the depth of emotional turmoil, perhaps symbolizing pain or longing.
The lines "Your name, I called, yet emptiness replied" and "A bloom of yours, I drew, withering away" express a sense of loss and unfulfilled connection. The act of calling a name and drawing a bloom implies a desire for presence and beauty, but the responses are characterized by emptiness and withering, adding a layer of melancholy.
The exploration of choices in the lines "Life's lines extend before me, To choose, where your love resides" delves into the existential theme of navigating through life's possibilities and seeking love. The word "resides" suggests a search for a meaningful connection within the vastness of life.
The recurring ritual mentioned in "This ritual unfolds each day" implies a cyclical nature of introspection and perhaps a daily struggle with emotions. The poet peers within, describing it as a "melancholy abode," suggesting that the internal landscape is characterized by sadness.
The concluding lines, "Where my heart, a vantablack canvas, remains," encapsulate the essence of the poem. The heart being a "vantablack canvas" signifies an emotional void, absorbing and reflecting no light, emphasizing the depth of emotional darkness or emptiness.
As a poet, one might commend the poet for the rich tapestry of emotions woven through carefully chosen words and metaphors. The poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of connections, and the existential quest for meaning in the face of emotional voids.
As one gets older some look back, some want to see what they did right and wrong. Some call this their memoirs, a life of their many memories. Maybe an excavation on life is what we needed, look deep into the many years gone by. Found what we did right, now how can we copy it. Found what we did wrong, now set it a side. When a deep life excavation is done, what will we find. Write it all down both right and wrong, pass it on to the younger ones. Many years ago the younger ones learned, they learned from the older ones in the family. Maybe we need to turn the hands on the clock back, to old practices of learning from the older family
members.
Today the younger ones seem to be lost, so lost in this crazy world we live in. If we did an excavation on our lives, what mysteries would we find. Maybe we can save a younger life, maybe make our life more meaningful in return.
Date Written: 6/21/2019
4 Place
Title: An Excavation This or That, Vol 4 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
Competing to weaken inappropriate business models for healthy government
too industriously advocating automated capital-enriching violence
despite co-arising globally stressed-out climates
is not an eco-theologist apologist's leading non-trump card.
Connecting intentionally cooperative people
and communing plants
and healthy commingling planet
more polypathically ego/ecotherapeutic
seems more effectively persuasive
toward historically therapeutic economic-political case studies
and multiculturing communion designs for communal integrity
through deep LeftMind with RightBody co-dominant bicameral listening
and beauty glistening
Acting widely in-between
1. Resilient Western competing co-investors
in healthy cooperative ownership
and management
and governing
and inclusive democratic authority
and co-responsibility for rights to speak and rites to listen or not
and non-sectarian integrity of thought
with co-passionate feeling models, and
2. Resonant Eastern extended family cooperative communion
poly-theological timeless models
intending eco-faith in multi-health communities
diversely composed of trans-regenerational co-arising residents
spiritually within as naturally without
sacredly peaceful below as non-violent above.
TippingPoints in-between LeftLiberal Love
and RightConserving Economically Balanced Life
wu-wei
RightWing merely secular capital-producing incorporations
for a strong ego-defense
and LeftWing sacred incarnations
for liberating universal health-languaged EarthPassion
Leaking out of both liberal/conserving dipolar ends
recreating robust multicultural rainbows
of co-arising message maps
for wellness lights
Between ZeroZone prime co-relational territories
of Yang-strength,
atomically reductive chemistry tables,
natural ionic icons
with Yin's ergodic highway flow,
wavy and multi-linear--
toward primal 4D redundant
communal
healing myths--
seasons with nutritional reasons
Restoring recreatively persuasive health trends
for positive ecological relationships
cooperatively away from absence
of future's holistic nutritional wealth.
Strengthening the inductive RightBrain
embodied sacred LeftBrain ecology case
for becoming ego/eco-therapeutic peers
sharing a full WinWin mindbody
multi-spectral
neural-sensory deck
of non-trumpian cards
for WinWin communion players.
they say forgive and forget
remember and hold to account
seems to be frowned upon
and memorable events take a while
to manifest digest and process
narratives change with the core
at every reason and heart
‘everything is wrong and it is all your fault
what exactly you will have to find out yourself
I will put our relationship into a drawer
and possibly open it again once you …’
have changed to her wishes?
relinquished any meaningful part in the drama?
conceded to her perfidious pantomime?
are totally broken?
‘you claimed that one cannot talk to a depressed one
but were you not projecting your discontent?’
years on the metaphorical couch
like a spider in a cobweb of distrust
attempting to just pull one string
breaking at rock bottom
with someone else throwing rocks
from a fortress of a glass house
accusations lies silence pretense of innocence
and turning children against him
he walked a difficult path
many a time running on empty
but eventually it turned out to be
the best thing that could happen
and he found new love
made peace with his offspring
invested in kindness and compassion
now lives with his lover and soulmate
chapters however can only be closed
when the epilogue has been written
when the spine of the book
stands upright in truth
for years he maintained that she
could not have done any better
did not cope with her own crisis
and he absolved her from further critique
the protagonist eventually found his voice
He has become I and I lay to rest
my memories of that evil malignant
and greedy you chose to become
it was you who tore me apart
and watched with satisfaction
when I became vulnerable and depressed
discredit where discredit is you
it is not about settling score
or spread sheets of retribution
simple honesty will do and
I don’t have to be nice
because poems understand
and refrain from judging the writer
but deep in my soul I do not care
that you have turned lonely and bitter
because while I am privy to
exquisite satisfied pleasure
you made your bed
and that is empty for a reason
trying to hack out my eyes and essence
made me spread my wings joyfully
and you are an old haggard crow
merely feeding on crumbs
05th August 2021
Am I invisible?
No, I’m not.
Sometimes I feel like I am.
Sometimes I wish I was.
But deep down I know I’m not.
Even if it was my deepest desire,
I’m certain it’d ever come true.
In this house,
I may not be invisible,
But my feelings definitely are.
Like they’re hovering,
far away from my body.
Where my family can’t see.
I soak in the words they preach,
When I become the outlet for sadness, anger, and grief.
My body moves mindlessly as
I comfort them.
Each and every person.
Even though it is never returned.
My brain taps restlessly at my skull,
Begging me to listen,
Begging me to acknowledge the twinge in my chest,
the tears building up in my eyes.
But I can’t.
I cant.
I lay alone in this bed,
Staring into the darkness,
Wondering why noone cares.
Shouldn’t I get some compensation?
Don’t I deserve something back?
Aren’t my kind words,
My selfless actions,
Deserving of something,
More?
I’m told to “keep it together.”
But why me?
Because I am stronger than them?
more mature?
more understanding?
And yet I am so young.
Can my heart keep beating,
With this many wounds?
My rib cage is torn open,
blood leaks from my chest,
dark crimson stains the world
around me,
and yet I still ask,
“Are you okay?”
Even if it is my life,
I will offer it to them,
For it bears no importance to me.
Surrounded by these people,
The ones I call ‘family’,
I am a counsellor, for all ages.
I wonder where I store it all,
All the trauma -
That’s been passed down to me,
Like a secret ingredient,
Measured by the gods.
A treasure to keep safe.
And I lock it all away.
Will I ever escape this?
Am I always to be seen as just another diary to dump words in?
Someone who will drink up the sorrow,
From her very household,
Just to prevent a flood?
When will this torture end?
I know I love them,
There is no denying that statement.
But I no longer wish to walk around with the label “therapist” stamped on my back.
Don’t you see the scales above my head?
Dangerously tilting,
About to fall?
I feel like sometime soon,
The bolts will loosen,
And all will fall apart.
I am breaking into pieces,
cracks appearing with each trauma untold.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t here,
I wish when they saw me,
I was seen for conversation - normal ones.
And sometimes I wish I was invisible,
Or maybe not even here at all.
ELOQUENT GEMS
Part 2
But it’s show time, word genius making a fuss within ya brain hemispheres,
I’m rear in all the ages, pages outdating your solar systems burning spheres,
I leave ya mind scared with the truth, scared of what you will lose,
These writings are like hip hop and blues, blowing your mental fuse,
Your used, abused by your ignorance, cant advance from ya current mind stance,
With plans upon this planet, over running ruins, within ya delusions, ya say plans?
You ran away from your divine land, residing instead blind following lies,
Firmly as earning spiritual advice, nice and nicely played out well,
As you fell I tell a real story of glory of the real history with fury,
Furious but word notorious, worry about these things, they are nearly near,
Yeah bearing witness to those that stumble and don’t get up, find ya wings,
Hear the voices singing songs, lethal sequels seeking ears to hear,
Fear the mighty word warrior, steer your vessel, bless you from the summit, right up there,
But I don’t care, I steer a mind behind the vessel, as I wrestle good and evil,
Always climbing levels…. Depart devils, be gone please, ya don’t stand a chance,
One glance of these words puts you in a trance of stagnant brain operation,
Change up ya station,
Excellent, your seeds growing,
Into a plant with enhanced reception,
Tuning in, dismantle the stress,
Confess your ruining ya perception,
In the life of Mass Deception!!!
The completion is to reach them, all of them,
Mindfully seen through intervened letters to them,
Them? Who’s them? Remnants of the mighty men of old?
The Chosen few… come on I don’t know….
So I can’t just follow in blind faith,
Distasteful foul ways of the fools,
Who are schooled within disgraceful enslaved schools,
Check ya schedule, Like King Saul you will fall,
Slayed by your own sword and missed out on the reward,
Plagued by an evil spirit, devils mindset absorbed,
Records show a man that didn’t grow so jumped overboard,
Absorb these words, sort what distorts and delete,
Don’t retreat and be defeated in this heated war of good and evil,
Find your tranquil place and be seated, meet the inner self,
Where the real help resides, inside your house, your temple,
Disassemble and reassemble yourself, resemble principles possible,
Irreversible when awake!!!
Quincy Mac
date written: 5.12.2015
when Jove heard of the happens in Ethicia
he summoned Neptune, who bought
Cupid and Bacchus to stand before him
and speak of what they saw in Ethica.
Bacchus wish to speak last due to the
fact that Jove blamed him for most
things that went wrong in Saddlery,
and Bacchus knew that Cudip played
part in the happenings in Ethica.
Cupid told the story of Jinn and Rapa
dancing with Mami Wata, who wore nothing and had plenty wine.
She asked to lay beneath Rapa as she wished Jinn to be atop.
Your wives shall hate me,
and my Husband shall wish to war against you
recalled Cupid of the three laying in the
Garden making love.
Bacchus interrupted and spoke and neither were they drunk or with out influence of Cupid.
Cupid said angrily, then you accuse me, this is neither love or Loved said Cupid.
they grind to create friction,
those that I inspire lay in love and are Lovers.
Bacchus said there influence is neither of love or God
might they wish to satisfy mans need to war?
Jove answered, than they shall stand before me
and speak theses ills of lust.
Cupid summoned Neptune who retrieved Jinn, Rapa, and Mami Wata.
Neptune crossed seven continents looking for these satans.
He found them in Mor- Moral were they
stood in front the mssess in the town of Concern naked and cared not who saw them.
Neptune spoke and said
Jove wishes to see you might you come with me.
Not wanting to make the Most powerful God angry they quickly came.
Jove spoke and asked them why they were doing what they were doing and what they wished to accomplish by doing so.
Jinn told him, a husband shall be angered and two wives shall hate her, are you God that you refuse to understand.
Jove said with me being might you understand that I am, and all that exists is of me.
why than do you make those fear and hate you,
then Jinn spoke and said.
which pleasures are services to God?
Than which services to God are chored.
What we do is to inspire neither service or chore
might it anger those who are our wives and her husband,
might these pestilence of man find it easier to war.
Jove spoke and said, I am Jove
I am that at I am, what is neither is never done,
what is done is never undone,
than man shall laugh at you as I wish them to.
then Jove stood and waved his hand
and all men in every nation laughed at these Satans
never to speak there tale agin.
Be yourself
She paints a picture of the real me.
I know in my heart that she truly believes.
She tells me stories that I always forget,
But neither of us mind that fact,
Because it means she gets to tell them all over again, I guess.
She tells my story to those who care.
She sings my praises, even when I am not there.
I would tell her story, but it is not mine to speak, or write.
She has always been there for me, so I will respect her copyright.
She is not a writer, nor does she have a poet mind.
She works to pay the bills and she leads a completely different life.
She held my hand and I felt safe,
As we walked on stepping stones over the stream;
She still watches over me, always, as I dash her hopeful dreams.
They all went up in smoke;
But I’m no gambler or criminal.
I’m just a humane being and my glass is never half full,
So I can only ever let you down;
I try to be a star, but I am still underground.
I have lived my story; it is mine to tell,
But I have no need to explain why I never seem to help myself;
Because she truly knows me and still she keeps the faith.
I hope and believe that she knows one day,
I’m going to change my ways.
This is my story; this is the tale I tell.
I have no diary musings, except the poetry; oh well.
With understanding, you will see my soul
And when I leave you all behind without me,
I hope that you know that I could only ever ‘Be yourself.’
If I write things that make you think,
I hope you know your love has only ever helped me to be.
She is at the window, the kitchen sink.
She can see me walking towards her house
And she can’t help but be welcoming.
That’s what I love about her;
For all she does,
Because without her I could never believe one day I will find true love.
She said be faithful and love will come.
I’m getting older now and I am still here unloved,
But I will promise, to maybe, one day,
Show her the love which I have found;
The love that takes my pain away.
Your understanding; it is your own,
But this is my story and its meaning has no need to be told.
I hope you forgive me, but this is mine.
I would give it all away,
But then how would I justify?
You see this is worthless, but priceless to me,
Because when I find myself in love one day,
I will, at last, find…my…peace…
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.