Long Oneself Poems
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It's all inside heating up steam
hell-bent anger wanting to explode
this is all so wrong takes one over
one press just like any old download
What causes this human disruption?
for it to reveal itself like a bomb
gaining victory's hope looks gone
so frustrating makes one storm
Overall the years speaking so hard
at school left alone not a word
no conversation make one angst
looking above wish was a bird
Then I could have flown away
but here I was filled full of fear
why can't I speak like other folks?
rising inside anger in a tear
The anger needs released and freed
so give oneself a chance to speak
still difficult but able to accept life
show all this guy is no freak!
(My thoughts on anger hidden within having stammer all my life.)
I begin,
with spearmint breath, barefoot, and hushed skin
woken are earth’s aromas of prayer and namaskar
spilling intentions auspicious a focused vow within,
with a promising salutation to the resending rising star
for the faded filaments of ashy ailments, as well
I hear their praises of open routes and yellow brick roads,
fast tracks to filigree of fulfillments where egos swell
gritty goals, lickety-split in their surrealistic abodes
its competition stirs the soul, yet their ebbing eyes be blind
to suit oneself and not the self, the soul-search sold,
to stay true becomes onerous of an untruth abstract mind
The scribbler’s hastened house upholds,
phasing flowers into a creative expression explored,
literary archaic yet no soul from muse’s molds
some choose to pull from brutal banks previously implored
A game of Scribbage, the deal, the play, the show,
noted nothing less nor nothing more,
vintage vantage, a cribbage of blank blurt we all know
forgetful is the fact that we’re all amateurs
Take my savory words you, I’ll take yours if kind,
let go the ways to wicked wharfs, it’s the way to putrefy
away from stagnate depths of opaque layers grind
for those without weakness those of you rise
without the wormwood shells of bitter taste
the lower plains and the pains and alibis
of watering wells d i s p e l l i n g waste
There’s innocence in our hearts
an inner chamber where the divine never dims
there's a purposeful purity that never parts
it lives inside once broken down, our bones and limbs
it fills the ovoid, gives opportunity, I end with this,
as an appointee, in a designated avatar,
in n o w mindful we won’t miss
as we are receptors of higher light,
held above varmint vestments tsar
we transform our image gone the dark knight
There’s a secret garden inside, drunk on lovestruck swilling
becoming well known, follow the pathless path amidst
to the road I’m on, there, the sacred wells worth drilling,
the one path known as blessed bliss
—A Monk of Quiet Quest
The appearance of gentleness
shows many gracious ways
and this image of godly meekness
is being totally true to oneself;
it can't be stirred by rage,
or even irrational revenge:
indignation is an unthinkable bluff!
Do nobles often embrace folly?
Be it envy, betrail or debauchery,
they all fall into the pit of misery;
someone belonging to their bloodline got clever
and invented the trick of alchemy...
he imagined one sleeping when he was dead:
the transformation was grandly achieved,
the Veiled Christ was a showcase of grandeur!
Sculptors with chisels and hammers
create faces that are realistically divine;
they embody their own spirit on those faces
with expressions that exceed human beauty:
more than paintings they exude emotions.
Novelists write stories, poets write poems;
who hasn't memorized a specific line
written with cleverness and simplicity?
Are we engaged more in remote interaction
than in human emotions that spread affection?
Do we forget to give a hug in our rush for success
heading to a destination where dialogue is about affairs,
not realizing that we are trading our happiness,
for wealth, our temptation for holiness;
and all the permissive actions that transgress?
Do we see an end to obsessive and unyielding greediness?
Can we ignore the voice of irreversible trust,
and allow deafness to define our worthiness
turned into mindlessness not connected to emotions?
Never expect to be compensated by lust:
it's not a guaranteed way to feel good without resentment:
can we achieve glory without the virtue of our passions?
you live still
in the blurred polaroids of my mind—
your face dissolving into silver,
mine into someone i cannot quite find.
i loved you once
with the fervour of an unwritten psalm,
and though the wanting has gone quiet,
the love still lingers, warm.
perhaps i miss you;
perhaps i miss the girl who loved you—
the softer version of myself
that time, like winter, outgrew.
we both became strangers
to the people we once knew,
yet i keep your photographs
the way old libraries keep books
whose endings they already knew.
i do not wish to have you again,
nor become who i was before—
i only wish i could tell that girl
she was worth loving, even more.
so let the polaroids remain blurred;
some things are kinder without view—
for sometimes, loving what we lost
means learning to love
who we became too.
Wave a hand in front of my face
and see magic happen…
That’s how I feel sometimes
Replace the face with a clean slate
or maybe not,
rather a scanned image of what’s truly within
so people will finally see
what should be seen,
not what they want to see
Somebody pointed it out to me one time,
and how true he is…
He said that one has never truly seen
one’s own face.
How ironic, right?
Yes, you see yourself in the mirror
but that’s only a reflection of yourself
Depending on how good a mirror is,
and the lighting…
I also have to ask, what defines a “good” mirror?
Photos of oneself are still somehow altered one way or another.
passing through lenses…
just never a firsthand account of seeing oneself
face to face—
I have seen my hands, each line, each groove and ridge of my fingerprints
though I have seen the top view of my nose, that’s it…not my entire face really
So how ironic really that the blind
probably see their faces much, much better
than those who can see with their eyes,
because they see through their hands…
touching,
just feeling…
10172720111
Sometimes fundamentalist Christians
Give the expression “to be saved”
All you need to do is “repent”
Meaning to give up your sinful ways
This sentence from the Gospel of St. Mark
May seem to support this perspective
Trouble is
It all depends on what you mean by “repentance”
“Sin”
Some Catholics seem to limit their understanding of sin to a legalistic one
Where disobeying a law, rule
Or Commandment is what sin is all about – period
It maybe more balanced
Spiritually beneficial to understand
As any behavior that breaks or weakens
One’s relationship with Eternal God
Neighbor or oneself
A healthy understanding of the Sacrament of Reconciliation
Based on the insight that reconciliation with Eternal God happens in
Through reconciliation with the faith community that is the Church
Accordingly
One may sin
By either doing something
Or not doing something
Focusing on my self; no other
filtered out all negative feelings
cut ties with deceptive dealings
home is calling so don't bother
Feeling things that make no sense
a little of revenge, guilt, anger, fuss
a lot of love, faith, truth, and trust
Thinking of things conjuring defense
Eliminate thoughts of all others
took for granted with misjudgment
challenging my truth with argument
now stuck in shame that smothers
No allies in this deceptive outer world
most live for bribes lies no alibis
all I truly hear is loud curdling cries
devastated by the truth, only can hurl
Let this be a lesson to trust only self
trust your own feeling and knowing
forgiveness and healing for growing
always room to help improve oneself
Not understanding my role in your life
no longer needed spoken or explained
hate jealousy greed no longer retained
dismantling what The Divine calls strife
Completes my assignments with grace
highs lows many death and rebirth
bring back LOVE to beautiful Earth
LOVE is home there's no other place
The end of days is a term
Dark enough
To make men squirm
And real enough
In a way
To make one consider
His final day…
Without regrets…who’s to say
And doing so I must look back
On what I wrought
And what I wrecked
What I built
And what I broke
What I gave
And what I took
Then the book that tallies sums
Finds me wanting
And then some
For my life
And energy
Was focused primarily
On what I wanted at the time
And self-indulgence
Seemed not a crime
To lift oneself above the throng
Seemed fitting, nothing wrong
And so I worked and earned my wage
And climbed over brothers in my rage
Having more my only gauge
My appetites were not assuaged
And more I took as if by right
And endless quest
Both day and night
Without regrets, without a care
I took far more than my share
Wealth, pleasure, and acclaim
Let my enemies
Fear my name
All these things I held in pride
And boasted to never stand aside
I thought myself a god, a king
And now face the truth
It was a worthless thing
A vanity to suppose
That fleeting riches
Even wealth untold
Could match the value
Of a single soul
Or just one breath
A solitary heartbeat
The veil between
Life and death
And now upon my end of days
I wish that I had changed my ways
And focused instead
On the sovereignty of the Lord
And humanity
Then perhaps I’d have something more
Than regrets at life’s final door
Love oneself with all the heart,
And let the expectations shatter,
Leaving you with most beautiful
Experiences of life.
I apprehend that someday I unchaste
And all this would not lead to what we desired.
But know that I want to be with you.
Everyday, every night,
By dusk and the morning,
You're but the only one worth loving...
That's the own words of my beloved...
Time left me on my own,
With wounds that refuse to heal,
Flaming my heart to a gust.
By every nightfall
Where my heart plunges in that waterfall,
You are still the only one worth losing.
I apprehend that I am broken forever.
In this sea of twilight, I am a well of iniquity,
Smashed into little fragments of Evenfall.
The void in every one of us,
Is a permanent silence,
That listens to what we all want.
By every downfall
That my heart surrenders to my unrequited love,
I am forever grateful,
Of this appreciation
That everything is over between us,
Since then,
I just live away
In those little fragments of memories...
What's a 'vacation,' anyway?
It should involve 'vacating' --
But need one vacate his place
of residence and 'go somewhere?'
Isn't it enough to vacate one's job
to rid oneself of the headaches, the
worries, the deadlines, the politics
the gossip, the backbiting and the
backstabbing, and all the hundreds
of other job-related unpleasantries?
**********
For three glorious weeks I've been
unplugged from my job. Completely
untethered. And it's been wonderful
I'm a new man-- renewed, refreshed
ready to go-go-go back to work
I'm excited again! Bring it on!
And isn't that the whole point of a vacation?