Long Permanent Poems
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Time Passing
I can see the wrinkles in the mirror,
even without my glasses.
What does that mean?
They are deep and permanent.
Youth has fled my appearance.
Yet, it has not left my heart.
The fact, of reality...
can not change my soul.
The creases next to my eyes... are from laughing.
My mother told me not to do that,
it would change my face forever.
She was right, and she was wrong.
I put my specs back on,
having washed the sleep from my eyes.
I can see better,
I do not look away.
The lines of time, they are still there,
deeper even than before.
That is okay,
I find I do not care... to stare.
I smile and remember, what is was to laugh.
I long to do it still.
I want to embrace my last days,
with happy thoughts, of God, family, and friends.
I refuse the darkness of evil dismay,
and embrace the joy of knowing...
that this is not the end, but the beginning.
It starts with now and continues on,
to the place prepared.
I take one last long look into the smooth surface of the mirror.
It can not hold the image of my life in its reflection,
it can only keep the moments...
that I let it have.
the three legged dog scrounging trash cans for a meal in Allentown,
befriends the blind girl with her ragged doll, on her face a permanent frown.
the mother in need of dangerous drugs, to make it through another day,
sells her wasting body to those who seek, these desperate souls who’ve lost their way.
soup kitchens filled with greasy men, who walk the unforgiving streets,
their dreams lay shattered, their clothes all tattered, at night roll up in dirty sheets.
the rich man rolls down the darkened window, of his long black limousine,
and tosses quarters on the ground, and laughs at such a frantic scene,
of children scrambling, fighting, biting, to get their measly share,
to buy some candy at the grocery store, as puzzled people look and stare.
as nightfall comes, the trucks roll in to wash the city streets,
but cannot wash away the sadness here, that every day repeats.
the organ grinder with his monkey spots the blind girl in the park,
and puts a dollar in her hand, as the oriole whistles in the dark.
the mother following close behind, extends her hand, asking for more,
he hands another five, she thanks him, walks away and looks to score,
another bag of crack cocaine, as the little girl starts to cry,
“where is my little dog she asks”, the mother asks her why,
“I want my doggie, it’s my friend, and it loves me the best”,
her mother falls upon her knees, and holds her closely to her chest.
“no darling, it’s me that loves you, loves you so much more”,
together they run hand in hand, as the rain begins to pour.
now in rehab she proudly claims “three years today and I’m still clean”,
happy together now at home, mother, daughter, and the dog they named Aileen’
Breeze, storm, tempest, tornado, wind,
Typhoon, you are named, yes, whirlwind,
Yet, you have well compressed yourself;
In me, into a gasp, named breathe,
Without which I have a mere death,
Thus commanding terms on myself...
I could hear your voice utter once,
In a debate of unique sense,
Your whisper was serene and sweet;
Admirations on you I poured,
As the plants and trees applauded,
In a richly rhythmic movement...
'Lovely you are, I commented,
Lavishly cute, high spirited,
Gracefully sweet is your murmur;
Yet looking into your movement,
I often tend to calculate,
You are a nomad, wanderer...
It's then lightly and politely,
Talking to me rather freely,
You'd told me many a secret;
Authentic, spiritual, pure,
That makes mortals feel sure secure,
Realistic and innocent...
Just like breathing, indeed, breathe's sigh,
And her loyal philosophy,
Fascinating, enlightening;
Nomad, gypsy, and traveler,
Migrant I am and wanderer,
Enthralling, real enchanting...
Yet, my child, have you realized,
I have you in me imprisoned,
And have kept you prompt permanent;
In my nomadically pure,
safe, perennially secure,
life-giving divine little hand…
It's when I had far away moved,
From the gushy maddening crowd,
And started reflecting calmly;
On the breath's bewildering words,
Dawned on me Gautam the Buddha's,
Renunciation theory...
True as the very Truth itself,
Is breath's unique unerring self,
Does the daylight any lie say?
Who upon this earth so divine,
Or under the gorgeous heaven,
Live without breath a single day?
Breathe is in me; I am in Breath,
It's, indeed dead-sure- till my death,
I can never refute this fact;
Breath utters and breath punctuates,
Breath whispers; breath murmurs and sighs,
Breathing is world's unending act...
I got imprisoned in the breath,
When in my mother's divine depth,
I received charming human form;
Knowingly or unknowingly,
Willingly or unwillingly,
I got surrendered in breath's arm...
Breathe has adopted me wholly,
Affectionately, benignly,
Giving me gifts of the Spirit;
Entering in my every nerve,
And my physique's each muscle curve,
Made me melodious flute, lute...
I play on
I am played on
04/27/2021
Writing Prompt - Breathe - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Lets look at life in it real
magnification
Everything that comes in
and out of it is a result of
evolution
That defines our existence
in the right projection
With every moment of it
leading us towards a
direction
Taking our body and soul to
a permanent destination
It has led to every bit of
human transformation
With every view of it brings
a good sense of perfection
Reframing us in the true
transformation
So we can See ourselves in
the right reflection
Doing things that gives us
optimum satisfaction
Making choices and
standing by every of our
decision
Every minute spent here
deserves our maximum
attention
For life never gives us our
expectation
Life has always existed
right from our creation
And it has no limitation nor
cessation
Life sometimes may be
filled with lots of frustration
Neglection,temptation and
aggravation
But it all helps in defining
ourselves in the right
definition
Bringing to our way people
that brings to our realization
That life is all about
toleration
and not in any form of
segregation
Lucubrations fuels ebullience
Unsolicited, revered, and praised
potential literary fete,
(yes a bit hyperbolic),
sans mine posted poems that perambulate
such feedback, whither donning trumped
("FAKE") facade, Oriel sincere
twittering, nonetheless tis great
for an ego striving to maintain
hum bull modesty, yet I hate
to be misperceived as
arrogant, boastful, pretentious,...wait
et cetera, cuz honestly,
these conglomerations create,
themselves, via some inexplicable
literary process which generate
prestidigitation soon after
affixing wired thinking cap,
whereby positioned electrodes exfoliate
on scalp yup thence, off miniature oblate
spheroid (suddenly barren) of golden locks
most soup Priam wantonly depilate
(envision candidate
undergoing biofeedback,
or...captured as bait)
by...yea (of course) alien invaders curious
to experiment, and subject a random pate
with out of this world tests that agitate
most precious anatomical accouterment
'bout size of average poe tate
toe (actually...almost same consistency)
okay...sorry, this chap doth relate
such comparison to
his own cerebral aggregate,
where he starkly realizes
neurological concentrate
takes a permanent vacation
to distant Palatinate
essentially leaving a void, ah...just
perfect for cosmic outliers to allocate
(no...no...no noninvasive, i.e.)
their laser like gizmos scrutinize how
(albeit unwittingly) to ameliorate
writer's block, thus
glad tubby ("Guinea Pig"),
and let abductors amputate
my killed expense trumped ("FAKE")
noggin pulp struggling to articulate,
(hence quite a relief,
you cannot imagine), dear mate
when fiber optic threads of light
essentially painlessly
(rather ticklishly aspirate)
clump of useless gray matter,
yours truly does implicate
as complicit to cause unnecessary
difficulty to associate
with *****sapiens, an extremely
strenuous task, thence joyful to dedicate
(without being headstrong),
an organ minimally missed at any rate
long last free to babble poppycock
oblivious as ambitious readers berate!
Simplicity
for today
in the light
of His existence.
invisible but liberating
everything
that separates
man from self
in
a permanent home
avoiding
abandonment
discovering
things
forward
backwards
collections
of
cataclysms
reign forever
dying
silent
valid
the desire to live
sheltered
from the storms
a
normal existence
intelligence
&a skill
sans
risk
on
this mysterious
path
bitterness
dies
a way back
for
inhabitants
outside
of themselves
motionless
a
place of eternity
glimmers
glimpsed
for a moment
then hidden
but
He is
still alive
to those
who
turn back
& confess
will find Him
&
see the reality
of
I am
in whom
the new life flows
to
the reborn
a chance
of new birth
necessary
for
the living
to
see the light
A poetic form of 2 Samuel 23:1-6
And these are Davids’ final words
The word of David, Jesse’s son
The strong one who was raised above
And Jacob’s God’s anointed one
The singer sweet of Israel:
“Yehovah’s Spirit spoke in me
And His word was upon my tongue
The Rock of Israel said to me
“‘One ruling men, a righteous man
One ruling in God’s fear is like
Morn’s sunrise light—a cloudless morn
Fine grass, from earth, from rain, from light.’
“For is my house not so with God?
Established He a covenant
For me, arranged in everything
And well-preserved and permanent
“For all of my deliverance
And all delight, will it not sprout?
But all the worthless are as thorns
Not taken by the hand—cast out!”
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.
My sworn enemy elect, is the constant profusion of illustrative choice,
even though it bestowed to me this shrewd strident voice,
I have unfeigned gratitude aplenty for opulent options but still,
with itemised information excessive without curb I’m ill,
one can sift through a menagerie of bewitching pros and cons,
skewed point of reflection, adopted pose, other folk dons,
diverse argument galore or hairsplitting please beware,
arch devilish trap covert, that sprung sneaky snare, surplus fact monoliths depending on an ultimate decision, shun bogus trendsetting at once with sheer derision, to be visibly cognizant as transparent courses of action, quite vast indeed and mammoth not a minute fraction,
when I commit to redeem there is an element of risk, but unwarranted deferral frowned on, one must be brisk, in the absolute recess of my mind is this constant pressure, to battle with surplus plethora, items novel and fresher,
with such package, pitch, display, slogans and colour,
choice might emerge to boost mood then banish dolour, broad scope “they” unleash, a nod to the downright plausible, the chocolate de luxe editions are they tangibly laudable, it is not for me to magnify an apparent risible matter, pettifogging, quibbling, nitpicking, pointless chatter,
I must insist on venting as a means to a clear path ahead,
yes, to coexist with at many levels trivial confusion instead,
excess products can be such a grandiose glossy term,
whose prevalence a nuisance that makes one often squirm,
but one can perhaps reframe and reconsider a resolute intention,
with the utmost alacrity in the context of apprehension,
drawing up a permanent peace treaty to empower a cessation,
with this fierce opponent choice as permanent extrication
L-ife is like a twirling wheel,
E-ver rolling around and around;
O-nce you reach the top
N-ext is touch the ground.
I-n this world of changes,
L-ife is like a switching stream or sea;
O-cean that perpetually rises, and river that falls constantly.
F-ortune here is transient,
L-ife truly is like the sun;
O-nce it's zenith is reached,
R-ays at night are gone.
E-arth's season isn't stagnant, life is like the weather;
S-miling sweetly in sunshine; crying in the storm or twister.
R-ealize the ups and downs,
U-nderstand the cycle of event;
I-n fifteenth morn of July,
Z-est of life is not permanent.