Long Patriarchs Poems
Long Patriarchs Poems. Below are the most popular long Patriarchs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patriarchs poems by poem length and keyword.
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the early days when everyone was alive
def
the beats of the hearts that coloured my world with purity
ghi
the candid memories made when All Vibes Are Positive
jkl
the perfect feeling of all seasons when joy was the ultimate trip of the day
mno
the way the earth smiled when the matriarchs were still around
pqr
the way the world felt complete when the patriarchs were doing their job right
stu
the laid back feeling of a full saturday that was so activitous
vwx
the smile of the endless freefall in a little kid's mind
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wondering where the now long since lost pieces went to the perfect puzzle
Wilderness edible forests,
to hungry mothers,
became wild undomesticated wastelands
to commodifying and taxing FatherLand patriarchs.
Wilderness matriarchs once Pledged Allegiance to the Sun,
and Gratitude to GrandMother Moon
for both interdependent fullness
and new womb emptiness,
grace-filled promise
of future healthy integrity,
pregnant with promising fertility.
We pledge allegiance and gratitude to our Sun,
One Icon of our First Native Nations and Wilderness Tribes,
reforesting and harvesting indivisibly synced
under and within SkyMother Earth
with liberty to not be unpatriotically bullied
to rescind each democratic individual's right
to equal liberty of mind and heart and body,
and forest wilderness ecojustice
for all GrandMother Moon's health planting
and wealth harvesting children,
Moon-matriotic matriarchs
and Sun-patriotic patriarchs.
Expressing grateful loyalty within
wilderness edible forests,
to and for hungry parents and grandparents,
becoming wildly domesticated fertile lands and waters
co-arising fire-lit atmospheric climates
to cooperatively commodify
and sacredly deify
and co-invest Mother EarthTribe
matriarchs rewombing
maturing matriarchs with patriarchs,
born equally of transubstantiating Sacred SunLight,
Love,
Grace
breeding and feeding
cooperatively owned Gratitude
of sun-drenched EarthTribes.
Could our polycultural history of sun worship
trump mere nationalistic supremacist flagships
for more sustainable healthcare
within patriot/matriot-balancing
multiculturing identity?
In hindsight
I suspect my dad silently hoped,
secretly conceived,
vicariously needed his dream
I would become a multi-talented musician.
He said, No.
behind my mother's gentle apron
strings of soft-voiced disappointment,
but also hidden within unspoken fear
of Catholic influence
when I was invited to join
The Vienna Boy's Choir.
I was too young.
I would be missed--the farm was an absorbing enterprise.
I wasn't ready.
They weren't ready, yet,
to let go.
But, then offers of guitar
and piano
and trombone lessons,
and choir
and worship music leader
soon followed,
as if from straight white watered
washed
and lied patriots
blessed by prize-giving patriarchs
who listened barely long enough
to hear I was marketably good
as an entertainer,
a professional,
not just another deep soul singer
or deeply soiled male dancer.
Pained am I with the waste of life,
Of dreams that lie like myriad shards,
Of hopes and love left far behind,
Taking flight on withered wings of
Unrequited expectations.
Sad am I that young roiling blood
Is stilled, silenced, with abandonment.
Where is the burning zeal and zest,
Brash bravado and youthfulness,
Life that thrives on - being alive?
We drink toasts to greatness, success, gain,
Do we empathize with those who fail?
Is what is taught is only that
Our goal by day, and that by night,
Is we've just got to beat the best?
Angered am I to read of death
Of youth who think life's race they have lost,
Laying great store by trivial
Pursuits whose conquest placed above
Life, and limb, and the self itself?
Oh, callow youth, oh innocent you!
A quagmire of treachery and deceit
Life is woefully all about.
You win some points, but lose some more-
With honour take it in your stride.
Carry on regardless with a smile,
Drink a toast to what'er be your lot.
Through wind and storm or sunny days
The days relentlessly zoom by
Always heralding happy cheer!
Blame not the foolhardiness of youth
For life cut short due to shattered dreams.
Blame lies squarely on the heads of
Patriarchs of a synthetic
Society of transferred hopes.
I noticed that one of the Kennedy patriarchs,
probably a Joseph or John or Ted or Tim
or Robert or Matthew or Mark or Luke,
Why do they all begin to look and sound the same to me?
Anyway, one of these informed and educated and good guys
responded to decriminalizing ingestion of THC,
cautioning us regarding potential public health hazards.
While I share some of these bleary and yet age-specific concerns,
Mr. Kennedy and I do seem to view these potential pathological influences
through two quite different frames of reference.
He approaches dangers of THC influence
in contrast to a population that would otherwise presumably ingest
organic goat's milk and wild honey.
I see the prospects for a THC cooperative addicted society
in pleasant contrast
to our current alcohol dissociative indigestion
addicted to bipolar shouting
oppositional dis-civilization.
From a public health perspective,
given only a choice between THC or alcohol decriminalization,
the evidence of history appears to vote
for the more regenerative THC.
Now,
if we could addict honeybees to THC pollen,
and goats to voraciously foraging on cannabis fibers,
and we became the land of goat milk and THC honey;
that, I suppose,
would be so much more
our healthier wealth of opportunity.
We are here
sexing
and singing
mindfulling our Perceptions and Questions
together in this now present
gifted Time
To eat and work together
for our cooperative
and ancient thriving health care,
of course,
But,
also,
and perhaps even more pre-historically
pre-anthrosupremacy,
to sing and dance together
to win/win play our root vibrant chakras,
and cooperatively think
by feeling together
sharing co-invested sacred wonders
and compassionately embodied awe,
of course,
And to embrace our EarthTribe sexuality,
our wild natural spirited climates
of climax and relax,
elapsed spacelessness
and relapsed time
of Yang and Yintegral
Heaven/Earth CoOperative Peace
Between ego Patriarchs
and ecosystemic Matriarchs,
transgenderal
multigenerational
regenerative democratic
organic organizing
Evermore sacred,
less merely secular sensory-neural systemic
LeftBrain verbalized reflections
transmutations
transfigurations
transcendent transubstantiations
Climax Yangish revolutions
of a sacred penetrating mountain
baptized in EarthPowered ecofeminist flow
of HereDivine/NowHumane
bilaterally resonant enlightenment
delight
For a global health/wealth
positively developing
unfolding
reweaving climate
of this
our politically correct time together
within Earth's Great PolyCulturing Communion.
As the Sword lies await in Stone
and Death is Conquered, Alas The Way comes Forth
and the Soul is Reborn and Reborn and Reborn
until the Day of Reckoning, How Sweet Is This Forge
and by the Blade, Subdues the Evil One
All Victorious, All Triumphant, All Return To The Sun
and The Great Seal Erupts, Let Thy New Age Commence Nigh
and Heaven Descends to Reclaim it's Light,
through Fields of Battle where Souls are Wrought
we claim our Victory, for Heavens Calvary is Unbought
and the Nations Tremble, for here come the Saints and Cavaliers
through the Upheavals, a New Jerusalem, a New Israel, a New Shield
Justice is Divine, No Staff Too Just
and The Great Patriarchs of Old Ascend from Dust,
and The Church Trembles, what was lost is Yet Again Reclaimed
these Swords of Heraldry Vanquish these Miseries, and Abraham is Uncaged
and by The Pillars Of Salvation, We are Set Free
and The Blade Of Science Claims it's Victory
With all the impeachment talk,
worried about ecopolitical Trumpian aristocracy,
five more years of narcissistic nonsense,
of white privileged entitlement
of second and third deadened generations
of rich by kleptocratic theft,
Republican APart-heid Oligarchy
I keep wondering
and stressfully worrying
about lack of attention
to everyday Business As Usual
Republic for Religious WhiteRight
Oligarchy,
An overpowering sacred and secular government
in which all divine Power
is invested in a few WhiteFragile patriarchs,
a missionary dominant LeftBrain class,
evangelically predative,
corporately patriotic,
a self-anointed segregated sanctuary for PeronsalDivineTruth
and xenophobic distrust of OtherTruths,
I smell a cancerously monocultural government
by the supremely self-selected few
made in God the WhiteFather's true capitalist greedy corporate image,
jealous
self-righteous
competitive against Earth-worshiping beauty,
NeoFascists
of My One Way,
My Republic
for which Capitalist Business Stands In For Truth,
My smugly Elitist Life,
Heedless of Earth's incumbent
all-inclusive
radically democratic recombinant
multicultural Death, decisive
Without any future hope
of further Oligarchical Republics
for RightWing Rapture.
Mostly, she had the heebie jeebies, peaking at early risers
Outside, morning was muted with its first faint flush
Right before bristled being, allure of dawn shook her
Noah's voice and patriarchs of old floated by
Imagine those coils; Delilah had come to nip
Night looked on, swelled with pride remorse would rise
God of heaven and earth knew Minerva could be healed.
Nothing moves miraculously as the Almighty
Once she could hear her own obsequy; such living dead
Out on paths of ruin, Minerva ran and ran
Noon's scorcher, and blizzard, and torrents knew she'd show.
Night was of rain and song; of mind cruise to Caribbean hometown
Ideally, one sky light, alone time, and quietude was craved
God of her mother spoke nothing into something
Head lights once broken, beamed, then glowed
That spring; the new millennium sprung fresh light, water, air, and fire.
*
Entrusted with divine oracles
reverberating with “Thus saith the Lord”
of wondrous historical chronicles
proclaimed as “Thy Word”...
you documented sovereign miracles
on scrolls, through frayed, cannot be vanquished by evil sword.
Hence, you are honoured with your diligence
along heavenly vision-iridescence
to publish the Creator’s statements
not using any pen, but crude scribbling implements.
Inditing* blessed Scriptures
you are ancient writers of spiritual calling
endowed with wisdom of grandfathers' scribe-features
exposing Genesis patriarchs in their faith fulfilling
never under desk lamp but upon the Holy Ghost’s illumining ventures
assured by God’s power, never failing.
Thus, your devotion is commended indeed
by what you’ve done, many souls have been freed
reached with the Almighty’s love and grace
blessed while reading His living Book with trust and praise.
*Psalm 45:1 My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.
July 9, 2020