Long Peacefully Poems
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Before my flowing, poetic pen is hushed in Quietus,
And I have reached my journey's end with folded hands;
Departed into my dreamless sleep beneath violets,
Let me write one everlasting, eternal, immortal verse;
Of the ravaged garden of my life.
I want to hear a bird song when I quietly glide away,
With a sigh, I will lay my pale form down peacefully;
I have willed my Keepsakes and my musing poems,
The Angel of death, will take my hand into another realm;
And the drums of time will cease.
Oh, it has been a life full of happiness entwined with sad,
I have travelled many different roads to get to Tranquillity;
The chapters of my life are full of the dead and undead,
Memories of childhood, family, friends and pets I loved;
The scars of life stab my soul.
I do not fear death and I am ready to go through the gate,
But I will miss nature, the woods and the waters moving;
And as I walk the silent passage alone to my eternal night,
Think of me as being set free and soaring high up above;
I lived a life weather-stained with tears.
Leaving life is something we all must do; it is written,
I was held by a thread in this earthly realm until that last gasp;
Now, all I know is the peacefulness of a leafy tree above,
Drifting blue clouds and rain falling gently on my resting place;
I was a shadow on the wall of time.
Do not weep over my eternal grave heartbroken my dears,
I have followed the beautiful Angels footsteps to heaven;
My poetry is timeless, ageless, and will always remain,
I have shed this earth bound life and I am a butterfly set free;
I drank from the deep blue cup of life.
So come, dear hearts and plant some pretty flowers in Spring,
I am at last united with all my beloved who have gone before;
Touch my name and remember me for my beauty,
And although my life was but a whisper, I loved every moment;
Now, I exist in another realm.
____________________
August 26, 2015
Poetry/Epic/'Before My Pen is Hushed'
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1216-704-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into FGI Blog Special - Epic
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
Gregory
You made yesterdays news, invoking fears
You were found on the streets
Discarded and left to die alone
Thrown away like a piece of garbage with little thought
An inconvenience, as you struggled for your life
So many questions and no answers….
Your thoughts were dark and twisted and not appropriate
You did not fit the mould
Opportunities wasted as you oared against the current
The river washed you out and you choked to breathe
Your thoughts were numbed by substances
Chemicals that took away your sanity
Robbed you of your family and your home
Left your mother with a broken heart and tortured soul, struggling with forgiveness
Your father fought his own demons just long enough to remember your life
And then fall back into the abyss and darkness and forgottenness
Your friends cried as they thought of you.
Their scarred faces and souls with their big crosses around their necks
Their tattooed and tattered young zombie bodies
With their vacant eyes that bore too much pain to contain
Thin and remorseful souls
with the tears that fell down their cheeks like rain
They loved you, you were a good friend!
It was said you would give the shirt off your back for a friend
Your first love wondered how she could have helped?
Your grandfather has lived too long to see this day
One more funeral in his 88 years
A reminder of his son of 17 that was also discarded.
Your brother tried to honour and play his guitar that you gave him
Tears were shed
Beautiful memories shared and kind words spoken
A life too young
Fell beneath the caverns of a broken world
Aunts write poetry to make sense of it all, desperately writing to keep your memory alive
Unspoken grief all around with nowhere to go
One more forgotten victim of an epidemic
Bi-polar they said
Addicted they said
As they sat in their offices high above the streets away from it all
Making policies to keep you safe.
Safe injection sights to shoot poison to your veins
And kitchens with large pots of soup to sustain you until your imminent death
The great unravelling of a generation
You were loved by many
You were a beautiful soul, a good friend, son, brother, cousin
A beautiful child with big brown eyes and so much promise
Gregory always remembered
Rest peacefully sweet soul…
Grace Daub August 25, 2021 written after my nephew’s untimely death- homeless and on the streets
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight
My mind is as fascinated with investments and divestments
as my body is attracted to healthy and beautiful vestments,
and haunted by prospects of naked loss of home
and integral identity.
My vested interests emerge issues and concerns about nutrition,
as opposed to malnutrition.
Nutrition, whether economic or political,
pursues ecologically systemic complexity.
PolyCultural nutrition can be consumed and produced by a healthy cooperative ecosystem,
while a monoculturally disturbed and aggressive absence of balance
harmony
grace
perpetuates internal v external systemic trauma.
We would all prefer,
regardless of cultural history of our vestments,
avoiding Other's aggressive win/lose values
without win/win cooperative body-health/mind-wealth merit
as effectively democratic,
confluently inclusive,
peacefully compassionate
as possible
through clear polypathic discernment,
multiculturally resilient wellness
passion/pleasure co-invested,
economically and politically co-arising
enlightening and empowering
compelling
spacious and timeless
harmoniously cooperative wealth
overwhelmingly vested
in nondual co-arising
mind/body
passion/pleasure climaxing
wealth/health co-infested experience
Whether the pantheistically connected mind of an ant
or polypathically EarthMother nurtured human,
whether the soulful voice of a river
or polyculturing choices of a rich forest,
or the SunFather enlightened spirit
of EarthMother's empowering cooperative nature
My mind invests in
and divests of
anthropocentric economic and political
monoculturing monotheistic history
Of healthy bodies and beautiful minds
spaciously and timelessly
haunted by monoculturing prospects
of sacred EarthMother's loveless loss,
homeless absence
of cooperatively organic
panentheistic Gaian integrity.
EarthTribe's co-empathic
beautifully invested mind,
fascinating co-empathic body-divestments,
where curious polypathic nature's nutrition
cultivates spiritual-mental health diversions,
spaciously enlightened and timelessly wealthy
co-arising authentically enlightened
and integrally empowering
bicameral left/righteousness
Polypathically organic minds
fascinated with investments and divestments
of panentheistically sacred bodies
attracted to politically healthy
and economically wealthy
creolizing Gaian co-infestments.
sensory grass
tickles your toes
soft pokes
every word is a stroke
of a blade
not a brush
a lawnmower in the distance
breaks the silence
what the hell…
the smell of fresh-cut grass
and the moisture
that lingers on its smell
you know…retains it
(like the soft and cushy handprint that
stays in the grass
in the shady part of that corner in the yard
turns the white shoes green
amongst the hedges and the borders by rocks
by that long-ago planted snowball tree
and all the love you had to give while you planted it
…rubbed the lamb's ear,
said a prayer and wished it the best of luck)
but here, now
take a nap in the sunshine
under a clouded sky peacefully
on a blanket
the winds brushing by
the rays beam through
and warm that blanket
your worn-out blanket
with scents of lingering past summers
of far-off beaches and sunscreen
dusty and musty
yet beloved blanket
(different kinds of loved-upon)
but here, now
the breeze on my toes
and the breeze on the grass
and the breeze on my face and my hair
stealing my woes
keeping me cool
my eyelashes flicker
a lazy dream of greens upon blues
upon dandelion yellows
shining
until you awake
slightly alarmed
to a busy bee
buzzing by
blinded by beauty
my tears trickle down the corners of my eyes
bleed down my cheeks to my lips and taste salty
warm and salty on my tongue
warm from the gold
of that hot-blooded sun
and the sensory experience
grateful to be alive
to soak it all in
through the skin
can you feel it?
it was a lovely dream
the smell of sweet grass
how bits and pieces float on air
tickle the nose
sweet and bitter tasty on the tongue
whisking away depression blight
peace rises
higher and higher
like barometric pressure
elevating mood and lighter weight
reflecting on purpose
reflecting on mood
through transcendence
but here, now
you can just
be
tingling sensations
just
be
feeling overcome with peaceful power
power to
just
lie
still
and enjoy the senses and dreams
that the grass brings forth
you’ll wake up
remember details
and reflect upon paper
close your eyes
and reflect upon paper
an outward pour
can’t you feel it all beaming in the sunlight?
in the mood
in the barometric pressure
in those blades of grass
breathtaking striking
blades of green grass
my god, aren’t we blessed
—American writer
Lone sailor on voyage in sea of life !
Started peacefully in calm ambient.
Out of blue loud thunder in cloudless sky.
Hidden icebergs bring continuous trouble.
Sea of life turbulent where breakers roar.
Tough journey, yet to proceed not to stop.
Propel in tides - ebbs on rhythmic cadence.
Boat sways violent on trough and crest.
Life to wobble in thrill and in danger.
Ignite your soul to illuminate path..
Life to explore, agress on confidence
Responsibility is solely yours.
Competence and devotion is your guide.
Never to repent ! Never to regress.
Sail and sail , let the night winds sigh behind..
Let the breakers roar ! Sail , sail all along.
Accept the challenge: Meet eternity.
In sea of life lone sailor on voyage
Peacefully started in calm ambient.
All on a sudden thunder to outrage.
Yet to proceed without allowing rest.
Sea of life turbulent and breakers roar
Icebergs floating, nine times being submerged.
Giant waves swelling, aqua mass in galore.
Sailor propel in ebbs -tides chased by urge.
Life to explore, aggress on confidence.
Dedication and devotion are your guide.
Waves dancing on crest and trough in cadence.
Lone sailor sailing, night winds sigh behind.
Not to get frightened, let the breakers roar.
Not to lose confidence, you are so strong !
Not to regress , you are to reach the shore.
Let the breakers roar, sail, sail all along.
SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA
Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night
They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange
They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew
Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys
O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world
Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday
Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath
Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy
Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own
(FM CONCEPTUAL)
How someone like you
and me
could ever be
this forever free
Never say never
Ever
Oh say, can you see
this valiant righteous fight
of the tiny 13
against the giant gorgeous gallant might
of the Royal Crown
into that last gleaming
fluorescent
effortlessly seeming
twilight
as American soldiers fell
and died
and their women
and Lady Liberty
rang the bell
and cried
screaming
and the little ones
so sound asleep
nestled in their bed
so peacefully dreaming
whilst their King
while their King lay dead
Hear his deep voice echo over and over in your head
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
as you lay there
missing and yearning
teaching and learning
freezing and burning
and tossing and turning
battledrums slow and become tribal
Yes, you too, remembers what he said:
"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible"
So trumpeters blew and told
their story
the drumboys rolled
out Old Glory
My God behold
Watch Old Glory
so dignified
unfold
Stars and Stripes
thus signified
an Independence newfound
on Sacred, Sacred, Splendid, Sacred, Holy ground
Kneeling at ground Zero
Never forget
My, your, Our forgotten Hero
Ole' Father George pause and take a good look around
Ole' Father George steal the stars
just this once
just in between
the glare of royal red rockets
and hand them to
the mighty 13
and the red stripes so soaked with blood
from our beloved Mother
across the pond
Sons no more, oh no, Mother
There isn't any other
It’s me now - your new younger brother
Just passing through
the bright white rays of sunlight
into the big bold box of navy blue
into starry starry nights
Ole' Father George, our hopes ignited
Your legs so weary
Our dreams excited
Thank you, Ole' Father George
Thank you, God
God Bless These States United
Form:
Once upon a time in Erin land,
the sun smiled on the people
the rains communed peacefully with thunderstorms
Erin flowed with palm wine and palm oil,
And her children drank to their fill
Oba Adeniran, was a great king,
loved by both the gods and his people.
Providence favored Oba Adeniran
Oba Adeniran had two healthy sons.
Now, Oba Adeniran must name a heir out of his two sons,
Or, he may lose the throne upon his demise.
The happy Oba had no worries.
His two sons were hale and hearty.
Omo-oba Adedayo loved his younger brother above all;
but he was nothing like his father in nature.
To him, the throne is his birthright,
So also are beautiful women and sweet wine.
Omo-oba Adegboye unlike his elder brother, was a hater of law and lover of war.
He too wanted the throne and so spilled his father's blood,
Somehow by providence, his mother and brother escaped.
He’d crossed the thin line between love and hate
Omo-oba Adedayo raged with vengeance.
He must avenge his father and reclaim his rightful throne
He rallied allies and built an army
His mother scraped her knees, and washed his feet with warm tears of love
But he won't yield to her plea for peace and truce.
It's better to forgive and rebuild, than to revenge and perish, she warned
Too late, the battle had begun.
The two princes came upon themselves
One fighting a just course and the other fighting a lost course.
He who lived by the sword, died by the sword
The good prince defeated his younger brother, and reclaimed his possession.
The queen mourned for months.
Husband and son dead, yet the throne lived
The victorious prince celebrated his victory with wine and women.
Thence, the die was cast, he must be crowned.
But then, tradition must take it's due course.
No coronation for a king who has no heir.
Omo-Oba Adedayo must beget a heir
Years upon years went bye, but no cry of a baby
Alas, Omo-oba Adedayo has a dead manhood.
A disease, his souvenir from women and Alcohol.
Now, the crown must move on, to another bloodline.
And it happened once upon a morning
Erin land awoke to see Omo-oba Adedayo’s body dangling from a tree
A deliberate escape from the shame of failure.
Till date, no one either remembers Oba Adeniran
Or any of his two foolish sons.
But then, the crown lives on, and has never been forgotten.
Talk to yourself.
Think and thank about yourselves,
how you have changed into different interests/disinterests over years and decades.
Think about yourselves
at least as generously
as you might best listen and smell and taste,
both digest and nourish,
your own worst Alien Enemy.
What is it that you can see
that you cannot yet perceive
with mutually cooperative compassion?
To live in self-regenerative health,
is to notnot Evil while self-communicating,
to avoid LoseLose metaphysical and physical gaming strategies
through ego-identity self-minimalization,
Empty of FertileTime,
choosing instead to self and other communicate,
observe and be knowingly watched, and co-presently loved,
to hear
and become listened to and known and appreciated as is,
to smell
and sense health
more powerfully than pathology
as positive with negative correlations,
fragrant (0)sum bilateral binomial double-binding frequencies,
taste and become digested by decomposing composts
of fractal-fusing-integrating time,
four seasons of iconic 4DNA/4RNA
Earth-Octave Climate Health Solidarity,
touch yourself
and be touched through all your timeless histories of Elder regenerators.
Talk to yourselves
at least as generously
as you listen most robustly
to past Alien EcoPolitical Climate-Times
belonging rightfully, peacefully, regeneratively, justly
within EarthTribe's Cooperative-Integrative Spaces,
People and OrganicPlaces with names and helpful, rather than condemning, labels,
Frames and Gestalts
and MetaParadigms of Climate ReGenerativity.
Imagine inviting your sacred-secular
polypathic mindbody into this new day
to be filled to overflowing fruition
by Others
sharing your Ego EarthTribe DNA/RNA Interdependent Identity--LeftBrain
with Empty (0) Reverse RightBrain
spiral-octave multiculturally regenerating
4DNA WinWin SacredDynamics,
Primal DiPolar DoubleBinding Dialectal Dimensions;
bicameral ego/economic health v political powering-over pathology,
polypathic ecoconsciousness
talking and listening healthier ecopolitics to yourselves,
past,
co-present,
as future regenerations.
Our multicultural ecopolitical Golden Rule,
treat yourself,
meet yourself,
watch and listen and sniff yourself,
at least as well
as you would
if you were also your own worst economic and politically-overpowering enemies.