Long Paths Poems
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Since the begining of days when my heart became an advocate of concrete paths, I have
come to understand the joys that are unprecipitated fears and the fears that are purpose.
For so long I have adapted to the muddy waters that breed beautiful roses with thorns of
such pure poison. Taking into my lungs the fresh air, this same air that is only fresh with the
will of foul principle, yet some how law. Speaking the language that has no sound and
somehow it is always too loud for its own good. Induction in the chase for things that keep
my temperature down in the summer while making the atmosphere a little warmer. Like
something chilly for my wrist ,neck, ears and hands. In the most artic of winters things that
keep me warm like having a personal zoo, mink, chinchilla, fox, rabbit, beaver, and ostich
and yet winters are still so cold. Realizing that somehow winters burn the soul, as summers
tend to freeze the heart. Love is the sound of nature and its remeberance of present. Eagles
scream through the air, colts break the pavement with 38 and 45 calibers of pressure. The
floating of land crafts with special made wheels, stars, spokes, claws, blades, all in chrome
reflecting the spite of happiness in this life. Delicate feminims that perform the sweetest of
actions with the audacity to control the wheather of man. Sunny days, cloudy months, and
years of storm. Pleasure is found everywhere and yet it is never found, so pain is the
blessing of that same pleasure seeked. With each passing day I appear cleaner, except for
my work related smudges(from the parkway to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the
community). All the things I want I have and still I have nothing. Today has been here a
thousand times and only once,tomorrow will pass as yesterday returns. This is where the
truest kisses come from angels, yet the only blessings are from the breath of the demon.
This is home, the city of hustle in the divided states of atrocity. So much passionate turmoil,
so much un-affordable affection that is afforded by price and un-conditional purpose. As the
tears of an infant blend with the crying of the clouds this waters brings hope of a changed
existence. One that is the best life, not heaven or hell, not paradise, but life as it could be,
life in a drop...a single drop... Of Rain Water! Live, Suffer, Celebrate!
Form:
The Truth is the Gift of Gods Word
for it's understanding the habitation has stirred
softly upon spirit we listen to it's call
comprehension to it's voice like a seed is small
Can you understand the wise man's riddle
apprehend interpretation the narratives trail
from beginning to end surround the middle
without understanding it's Truth you may fail
Upon the Truth are your heavens fixed
the hearing upon earth with lies are mixed
to many have reached a state of complacency
the cares of this life has choked ability
You lead upon paths unknown
a flight those having wings have flown
I tell you upon the rise of each day
that you must lead and show us the way
Oh Shepherd like a lamb you guide me
for I am lost to the flock without thee
My Lord and my God you have called us out
faith in you but confidence in self do doubt
With every gesture you affirm the way
yet evermore before me do my sins lay
I look around upon those I do see
whose lives are worth much more than me
The seventh day Jehovah has blessed
where mankind will enter into his rest
abundance of joy will fill the earth
as Gods Kingdom has given birth
The fruit of her labor is worldwide
she will wipe the tears her children have cried
Gods woman has brought forth Life
she will train the children remove their strife
You are God from the womb of my mother
have preserved me from violence of brother
your handmaiden as captive I serve
given more than anyone here deserve
I listen to the music of your call
understand I grace given since fall
for to live is Christ and to die gain
and within the hand of your Love remain
Forsake me not when I reach that hour
frail woman in mankind has not power
give me courage so I don't therein cower
for I have beheld the future from your tower
Oh my gentle Lord your path holds no discord
our seas turned to glass when we do as asked
neath your wisdom do kneel as truth you reveal
all thinking given you and insight given true
Hold me close and in your arms
for hear I do the trumpets alarms
you have signified my death
for those you love I give my breath
Hold my hand on the path you take
for I am weak and easily brake
a thing that is soft and frail
for those you love like Lord impale
Now I know the path to you
by example your loved showed true
willing I am to give you my life
like anointed Son did for wife
source JOHN 3:16 Romans 12:1-2
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
I seek not to be a presence. Forces beyond my control dictate the interactions I will have with those who come across my path. These forces disturb me in ways that I cannot understand, yet I react to them with efficiency.
Subtlety is not one of my traits. Even now, I am poised to move in the direction to which I am called. It is a direction that could have great impact. Although I may waver in the course set before me, I am nonetheless committed until another force impedes me.
On the path I seek, I can see farther than one can imagine. Even though I only have one eye, it is an eye that is clear, an eye that makes a statement. You would think that having only one eye, any spinning and turning I do would make me extremely dizzy. Nay, say I, I move ahead on the path I seek.
On course, on time, and always considering my wall. It is not a wall to jump over, or to keep me from something or someone. Instead, it is everything and everyone else who would need or want to have a wall equivalent to mine. Theirs would be a wall to keep me from them.
The path I seek can be strewn with objects that tend to slow me down. Nonetheless, I struggle against them, and keep surging forward. I depend on my own wrath and fury to keep me moving ever closer to my stated purpose, whatever it may be. At some point, I know I will lose all ability to continue down the path I seek.
Along the path I seek, I watch events unfold before me with my one eye. It is an eye that, while surrounded with moisture, does not blink, shows little mercy, and does not cry. It does not cry even as my wall begins to crumble. The crying is only left to those dear beings I leave behind along my path.
I wish I could feel the lives I touch but, the harsh truth is, I have no feelings. I am a creation that will never know what a feeling is. And thus, no love, no hate, no joy, no sadness will stay me from the path I seek.
Alas, my wrath and fury are destined to die a slow death as I continue along the path I seek. I will not be missed, but I may be remembered. I will surely be cursed and called a monster.
And before my eye finally sleeps, I get one last peek at where I have been.
Still, I cannot cry over the destruction and anguish I have wrought during my passing. I only know that I will come this way again, because that is what hurricanes do along the paths they seek.
END
OF THE COMMON SEAS
"We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice." **
Truth need not be found
in philosophers' musings,
or complicated by thoughts bound
with theorems and words, fusing,
nor within the intricacies
of mathematical proofs,
as one and one may indeed
not equal two; un-truth is truth.
Truth becomes vast in life,
and like the pearl, can be found
as beauty captured, in seas rife
between the common oyster's gown,
Or found within the common leaves
of books written by common men,
discovered by those literates who read.
Truth is simple, now and ever been.
I stumbled on such a prize
In Dana's autobiography;
of common men on common seas
living truths of common humanity.
** Dana, Jr., Richard Henry, Two Years before the Mast, World Publishing Company, 1946, p. 283
1
Like a moth to a candle flame
I pondered the perceived right
of those of wealth, culture, piety and fame
to control and lead the common blight -
(the average, struggling and forsaken souls);
yet have never descended to the lowly station
to learn the culture of these earthly ghouls,
their dreams, their pleas, their damnation.
As gods atop their cloud draped mountain
how dare they, in their empiric quackery
force the masses to their impure fountain
to drink of the laws and life that they decree,
yet having not trod the tracks of the plebian path,
having never felt the sordid plebian passions,
but worshipping instead their comfort and wealth,
adorned in decadence and richly clothed fashions,
how can they govern those they do not know,
minister to anguish they have never felt
or heal their sickness of body, heart and soul?
How can they play the cards, to them never dealt?
Are they leaders, statesmen, kings and lords,
or simply counterfeit men full only of themselves,
vainglorious peacocks, strutting hordes
deceiving not a common man, only just themselves?
We have them here, in this land of the free,
politicians, preachers, corporate men and judges.
None have suffered and worked, you see
yet dare to rule, when by common men begrudged.
Form:
Doomsday Clock January 2022...
the most recent tabulation
signaled one hundred seconds to midnight
A couple years ago
similarly titled poem I did write,
yet looms as harbinger unless
*****sapiens can unite
one non Yiddish speaking
Ongematert wishing ye
fare thee well tonight
before betokening apocalyptic sight
'course one must go about
her/his business - right?
Rhetorical question - yet
impossible mission quite
challenging, where one
brother grimm ponders plight
Cosmofunnel favorite fan
Katina Borgersen "poof"
our acquaintanceship dissolved
(think - snapped fingers) outright
regardless, whether...
perchance we ever
cross paths long daze
journey into night
met under virtual reality moonlight
ah... the mere awareness
of her existence
metaphorically found modest, mercurial
mellow male within limelight
oy vey admittedly one
rusty Ongepatshket knight
fumbling in the dark with
his unreliable sputtering jacklight
hooping aforesaid gal whose eyes alight
upon mine genuine words doth newt
coon sitter me laughable, nor impolite,
yet accept hard reality to highlight
and/or _ underscore delight
full dame online - each of us,
an infinitesimal jot of granulite
within vast cosmos given finite
minuscule time to excite
our senses trending utmost delight
during brief unique
deoxynucleic chromosomal copyright
til death do us part,
whether natural demise
or... huge mushroom
clouds radioactive blight
unimaginable nightmarish scenario
impossible mission to close third eye blind
webbed global haunting spectacle
mortal creatures linkedin to ill fate
including yours truly,
a generic, garden variety
hermetically sealed cell bit anchorite.
Uneasiness far greater
to confront atomic augury
than pernicious penury
which ceases within eyeblink
far more serious than perjury
nonetheless afflicting me
with psychological injury.
Personal finances pitted
me deep in hock
into red room zone,
shining thru the mist
story, yes I experience
quite a shell shock,
to absorb inconvenient truth
great swaths of Gaia
analogous to dead zone,
nevertheless, now finds yours
truly poorest, oldest, and nerdiest
curmudgeon goofy "kid"
on the chopping block
within Lake Wobegon
hard space and third rock
from sun as inevitable doom
inches closer as each second elapses
insync with inaudible tick tock.
Within the swirling currents of stars
He materializes, a silhouette against chaos
He is the whisper throughout time of stories untold
Worn out boots pound the cracked pavement
The echoes of centuries ripple beneath him
He carries a heavy urgency within his heart
He carries the truth, secrets, and all the lies
In the alleyways where shadows conspire in silence
Sleepy eyes wide awake in the rising dawn
Boisterous laughter falters, the world stills
That moment suspended, all breaths held in
This traveling Starman opens his mouth to speak
Pausing showing his sad eyes meeting doubt
"Time is such a fragile entity" he states
"Yet it bends for those who dare listen"
He is the only sound heard, the voice of time
He outlines all that has led up to now
For his people, because to them he is a God
And The Savior is here to warn the tides
"Protect what you love and abandon frivolous material"
"Keep thy community strong and your house stronger"
"Do not worship false idols, do not give into temptation"
"And tempted you will be, The Whispering Storm is near"
Subtle gasps quickly hush as everyone huddles closer
Everyone's heart beats faster than time itself
"What lies in the Whispers of Winds is the truth"
"The truth spun drastically for one to believe"
And the legends tell once you believe there is no alternative
Your Soul becomes part of this ever-growing storm
And it becomes evil...It becomes the death...
As all you love will get swallowed with who believes
He ends with starlit tear drops falling from his eyes
For he has seen the power of the storm, he almost believed
He almost gave into temptation if it weren't for those he loved
So he protected them in the end, love prevailed his time
He turns and slowly glides past the masses of His people
Questions being thrown from every direction go unanswered
Because the only answers have to come within ones self
And those answers carry the weight of this world
Into the folds of existence upon untraveled paths
He fades...Fades away to another time, another place
Leaving only the echo of his words within their hearts
Leaving to where he knows he can never return
Because he already knows the outcome...
Written for poetry contest "Starman" on 11/18/2024
Hosted by: Tom Woody Form: Dramatic Verse
PLACED 5TH PLACE IN CONTEST
I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
passing chambers of an Heiress
(though no need to feel embarrassed)
through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.
A glimpse near naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics
carving symbols, round and runic,
in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.
Down misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues –
patchwork paths consume my shoes
(chasing foggy curlicues
twisting, twirling by in twos,
floating anywhere they choose),
leaving footprints that confuse
vagrant wispy retinues
of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering.
Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew,
shifting Shadows I pursue
(wearing faces I once knew,
slipping slowly from my view)
turn their backs to bid adieu
leaving stars to tempt me through
Awful Tower residues
mocking treasures time outgrew
in the birth of old from new
framing pageants in review
midst the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering.
Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension
caught in twilight’s intervention
– still unlit (in stark dissension),
therefore seething with a tension
in the quiet apprehension
of the Watchman’s inattention
to the night-time’s bold pretension
to her power, not to mention,
to her hyperspace extension
(far beyond my comprehension
of the sundown’s bleak dimension) –
on exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.
Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
me, a simple abject vassal,
trailing moonlit floating castles,
– fickle feet, but fingers facile
grasping straws and pendant tassels –
as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.
I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
neath a sky alive with wings
(hear the Nightingale, she sings),
midst the whispered murmurings
soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings
pacing palaces in rings,
while their hapless footfall clings
to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splintered splattered ruins.
Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(while the wind beside me scurries
as an ermined hermit hurries)
lurk my sleepy woes and worries
(glowing faint’ but growing blurry)
which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.
Continued in Part 2
For days now he had hungered.
His search took him along many an avenue,
where his pleas were so harshly ignored.
But his need was such he had to continue,
so to all that he met he implored.
Many turned him away with brusque impatience,
what had he to offer them they all sneered.
Still he searched with all true innocence,
of the way he was evidently feared.
Daringly he turned his gaze upon all,
all those who walked the same paths,
all those who he heard from over their wall,
where they tended their gardens with care,
ever hoping soon he might find that one,
that one person who would freely share.
His recent loss still burned in his heavy heart,
all the devotion he had given and received
had been beyond reproach from the very start.
She had been the one and now alone he grieved.
His thoughts turned to that day when he awoke,
to find his companion gone but yet still there...
No response came as usual to his gentle stroke,
still and cold, so very cold as he proffered care.
All that long day his hope lingered with them,
until night fell and hope slid away numbed,
tangibly wandering out into the dark and mean
moon shadows cast behind their wind rattled shed.
A sharp whistle seemed to bring him from his dream,
it turned his head and stopped him still in his tracks.
He shook his head twice hardly believing the scene,
then ran swiftly towards his mistress now back!
Joyous reunion after those last empty days
filled both as they then embraced so lovingly,
her hands no longer felt cold but her eyes,
her eyes did seem a little pale and misty.
The pair were soon jauntily walking back home
to their ramshackle old potting shed.
All the spiders would ask why did they roam,
neither would answer as they settled to bed.
Down the avenue none had noticed their sheer joy,
none had seen them walk by in such evident glee.
None had heard their footfalls or calls of good boy,
but minutes after one lad saw what didn't flee...
'Hey Mum' he called into the kitchen,
'Come and look at this old dog over here.'
'There's nowt you can do for it Marvin,
poor old thing - must have been a stray dear.'
Back in the shed Good Boy and Mistress rested,
peace was with them amidst peat and dead fern.
Neither ever pined or wept again in their bed,
the hunger was gone now, never more to return.
©Rhumour
June 12th 2009
Cosmic Integrity
as defined and refined by Buckminster Fuller
is ultimate divine synergy,
co-operativity,
regenerativity,
organic wiki-PositivEnergy.
God is love
is grace with gratitude
is PositivEnergy Synergy
Tao of Cosmic Health Integrity.
Universal ZeroPhase Integrity
predicts cooperative profiting Fuller,
"Cosmic intellectual integrity"
LeftEgo with Right SacredEco
reincarnates metaphysical Health Universe.
"Orderly interaccomodation
[acclimation, says Bateson
creolization, says Jane Gordon]
of all generalized [health/pathology] principles
constitutes a [bilateral polypathic] nutritional design."
"Multiculturally ordered [health/pathology] relationships"
are inductively apprehended appositionally
and deductively comprehended oppositionally
by bilateral cosmic consciousness.
"As the human mind
progressively draws aside
the [RightBrain divinely cooperative] curtain
of [deductive LeftBrain] unknownness
the great [ego-ecotherapeutic transubstantiating] design laws
of eternally regenerative [health-wealth] Universe
are disclosed
to human [LeftBrain dominant] intellect."
Both cosmic synergetic cause
of Yang
And integrity effects
of dipolar co-arising
Yang mindbody centers
with Yin heartmind ZeroZones
of and for Cosmic Integrity
bilateral temporal-historical
limbic past paths through future
PastHere/FutureNow temporal
dipolar Left/Right cosmic integrity.
What Gregory Bateson
titled "Ecology of Mind"
Buckminster Fuller entitled
"Geometry of Thinking Synergetics"
Thomas Kuhn historically searched
as GoldenRules
and LeftBrain Wealth Protocol
for "Scientific Revolutions"
of evolving ecotherapeutic cosmic proportion,
dipolar measure,
polynomial integrity
of what Julian Jaynes ethologically explored
with and as bicameral ElderRight
re-creating Younger Ego skin double-boundaried deduced Left
as Edward De Bono's psychological positive health advocated
bilateral cosmic integrity
Of WinWin FutureSearch
Work That Reconnects
is clearly not WinLose BusinessAsUsual
monotonous mountains of potential
but polyculturally health abundant Left with Right
cooperatively-owned and fertile managing
with Cosmic Integrity
of sacred EarthTribe DNA
Open Whole System Scriptures
prophetic
if cosmic integrity descriptive
of cooperative revolutionary ZeroPhase
polyculturing Fullerian Designs.
And here I sit for the thousandth time
Writing over and over the same old lines
Lost in the dark its hard to see
Im right here and I cant find me
Mirrors lie we all know that
It doesn’t see as your heart is trapped
Except now theres truth in the night
It only reflects black without the light
And death calls just beyond the door
Stealing away all that I lived for
And I find
As I fall
That my life
Was so small
And as I turn
I hear the call
I close my eyes
And let go all
And Im so sorry for all Ive done
Haunting thoughts the tears start to run
Tracing paths down to the floor
Still wet from the time before
Ive cried and cursed all alone
Has the heart of God turned to stone
Was I placed here just as a filler
Destined to lose all to the Dealer
Was all ive done so meaningless
Down to the first girl that I kissed
And I find
As I fall
That my life
Was so small
And as I turn
I hear the call
I close my eyes
And let go all
And does the God of man
Just sit back to watch the hourglass sand
As the desperate cries fill the air
in his heart, is there a small tear
Or do the forgotten wonder the earth
Cursed with death from their birth
Is each life just a tv screen
That flickers and fades and goes unseen
Airwaves that fill the night sky
Lonely lives that are just a lie
And I find
As I fall
That my life
Was so small
And as I turn
I hear the call
I close my eyes
And let go all
And were all my desires just as fake
As is each breathe that I take
And was everything for nothing at all
Just a plaything as Gods little doll
Whatever the truth Im still in this moment
Afraid and alone Im still in this moment
And the truth is what I see
Whether lies or real im losing me
And the truth is what I feel
and the truth, its killing me still
And I find
As I fall
That my life
Was so small
And as I turn
I hear the call
I close my eyes
And let go all
And all these memories come pouring out
Can I know love when I’m full of doubt
And how am I expected to be
After all that’s happened to me
Or am I deformed somewhere inside
Somewhere deep where my soul has died
And are all these reasons why
God whispers I must die
Was there a last chance I missed
Hidden behind a betraying kiss
And so….
I find
As I fall
That my life
Was so small
And as I turn
I hear the call
I close my eyes
And let go all….