Long Perpetual Poems
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It wasn’t that she was the only woman
in the group, that mingled precariously
beneath the bronze figure, or her classic
stance, when placing immaculately the
newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly
breached, but more her opulent style, her
contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt.
Although jewel less except for a wedding
ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear
lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?)
she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes
that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to
the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than
the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of
the common brown. But alas maybe the
corrosion has not as yet penetrated her
foreboding mind, a mind that in time will
be given to surrender, never to realize that
this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into
one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape
from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she
was force to bear, what tribulations life brought
upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance
comfort her, listen to her sympathetically,
understanding her predicament, also a novelty
this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence
showered upon her, like solicitous petals
falling gracefully upon her shoulders,
removing the burdens of a lifetime.
Her head
began to lift higher and higher with every
mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act.
Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was
released from her reluctant deep red lips, a
senseless shake only proved her greatest fear.
Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found
companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge,
he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit,
with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before
passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly
awaiting its return.
One can imagine when the long day
is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed!
© Harry J Horsman 1991
The idea of a living constitution
has the same forensic indeterminacy
as a committed dream.
I am content to trust this dream to the end
to have it fill my cup of hope all day and night.
I am content to receive its order
to hasten to obey without a pause.
But, the old voice sounds
unrelentingly in the chamber: Do not
compromise. Punish.
Crucify him.
The infirm musing of a perpetual dreamer
rising up with eyes wild for relief.
I am content with the terror and anticipation that
keeps turns by watching me:
Justice, once imagined, cannot be undone.
I have been left to think along these lines
to look for the abandonment of arcane unfairness
months after months.
The months
burn up as a fading lantern
homage to the majesty of the absurd:
A muse easy to bear, Camusian laughter to
suffering’s exalted well —
what single rule might break the dry spell?
Sometimes the unforeseen, the unpredictable
springs in the heart of justice
bending its way upward
again and yet again
towards a distant point
all unaccountably, into the strengthening clasp
of fresh now-born idea,
nearer to binding faith
than wild dismembering injustice.
When the far-distant element
of suffering humanity
looms out more clear;
the faint, far, complex notes of hope
its head moves near
and new flicks of justice’s well
unfolds beyond the known.
Is there any new depth to this well?
Say, what is its true nature?
Quietly nature covers over
the dying bird and the dead rover.
If justice’s dead, it is as though
a robin died beneath the snow
tucked away neatly, whose bright eyes
once stared with impudent surprise
at every tit-bit flung to her.
Now every season we must bear
to live without its whistled air,
for law lives beneath the Spring,
like a sequestered paradise
exiled from the steady hammer of faith,
a trackless rice field
ever trudging through groves of
crouching, unconquered territories.
Oh enchanted universe
conqueror of earth’s stadium
in your wild, singing glory
the faults you committed live.
Come hear my sharpened cries
surely, you can hear my note of crisis.
Ceaselessly I raise my cry.
My cry ascends and floats away
scattered by whirling winds afar.
* “Endure what you suffer as being a father’s punishment.” (Heb. 12:5b-7)
Author's note: written on the anniversary of Harvard's abuse of my human rights
Written: December 02, 2023
Quote "Without birth and death, and without the perpetual transmutation of all the forms of life, the world would be static, rhythm-less, undancing, mummified." Alan Watts
________________________________________
“we woke up early one morn, ego shorn
it felt as though we were in form reborn
nodes within stirred, boundaries blurred
our head and heart, with love concurred”
I deploy discursive divine depiction as a guide.
A gateway to Genesis, where it takes its side.
Unbridled and untamed, my voice may rise.
I pursued knowledge out of pure surprise.
Low-frequency vibes induce a shift in shape.
Scarcity leads to transmutation, of spare scape.
Alchemists transmute leads to sacred gold.
Metal sheds its genius luster in the kiln hold.
I waltz freely with doom in the gloom.
I inhale oxygen to marvel at life's bloom.
I endure steps yet disappear in the dream.
Structure is unaffected by the skill stream.
Love is my soul—my reason for existence.
Living in lavish love is a lifelong vow of diligence.
A mind, weaved with such insight, was so warm.
I flaunt my firm frame in this fabulous form.
When you are feeling opulent and egotistical.
Those who are dominant were miscible.
Departure might induce an unfillable hole.
Descry a suitable way to purify your soul.
There are ecstatic and tragic days, love and hate.
No matter how tough we strive, this will be our fate.
Note how sporadic and fleeting life is; spot the stride.
Our days of tribulation bruised our noble pride!
Rather than succumbing to hatred and rage.
Turning negative into a rising trend of assuage
Let trust and troth tackle tricks and malicious
Such a restrained demeanor is truly auspicious.
Within, most consensus spans are wide.
It's all whim; scatter love and watch it glide.
Trust your scintilla—trek to the boundless sea.
We may all profit from sowing wisdom trees.
Conquered the most-dubbed landmass on Earth.
And yearning to discover raw levels of worth!
Death, then delirious with deceit, drove his life.
A wicked beast embedded himself in strife!
A susurrus sparkle to the shimmering love.
Enhances adieu strut below the moon above.
Breeze says, "Love on, my dear, and dance."
Across the trees, a gentle man's glance.
Begin at the beginning is a good place to start
It makes this poem less tart
sliding from oozed cocoon box
the lions have dens, the holes for fox
screaming is the first noise issued
followed by the orchestra, snap of tissued
help, first comfort, live source
growing, crawling, helped by guiding force
noise, turns to speech of understanding
running with friends, heart finding new palpating
severed from Mother, put into class
many hours of sunshine day passed by glass
innocence and imagination creeping
in Mind, sponge of perpetual learning
Ten, innocence flirting with early romance
ending child-like state, maturity dominance
father gone, replaced by foreign rule
never seen someone so cruel
Middle and High, progress to Schools
thrown into pens with some fools
many friends, smorgasbord variety
some try maintaining sense of piety
learn more about self but not all from schooling
secret meetings of passion, extreme heat, then cooling
growing both physically/mentally
stress where to go, what possibly
JC, CSU, UC?
sometimes they don't let you see
more to life then this madness
never seem to reveal or confess
Robe, with tassel hat and gown
some stand up and some go down
scattered pearls among swine
some go far, some stay close, all fine
some going here and there
some make it with bruises, some skin fair
becoming adults, transitional line
hardships or smooth sailing we will fine
working and schooling
but who are we fooling
it can be hard, stressful for sure
sickness, flu season, try to find a cure
death, taken without warning
all of these memories consuming
had to get this out to you all
before my brain-kept fall
seeing life and all its glory
all its pitfalls, sometimes gory
side, summarizing here
shell-shocked there and there
flowers all in a row
my mind will grow and grow
internal struggle through Academia and depression
the world, external, reflecting recession
we will pull through, hope
Don't let them simply say, "Nope"
life, roller-coaster up 'n' down
spin, spin, Dervish gown
everything turns this way and that
skinny, bloated and fat
but Joseph crawled from the well
after being pushed and fell
light returns after cycle, night
sometimes we must throw-done, fight
don't give up, keep going
keep doing what your doing
Life can be a different nightmare
when philo-sophias self-righteously
uprightly leave us behind
so long in search of success
measured in wealth of commodified acquisitions
rather than health of natural/spiritual capitalization
of virtuously co-managed left/right
co-balancing cooperative structures
for co-investing future resilience,
Like a thirsty hummingbird
living in a too-red environment,
Like dissonant notes
hiding in a too-rich symphony,
Community, communion investing in health
not as ordered by MotherEarth
as demonic TaskMaster of perpetual raw-spot punishment
in perpetually vicious win/lose competitions
against past and future disgraced generations,
rather than wealthy sacred interdependent venerations.
Philosophers and politicians
preachers and prophets
parents and their prey
might instead invest in Earth rights and lefts
as our dance and play Mother
embracing more cooperative win/win choreography,
ecological theologies of color
and scale,
More of a sweet spot multigenerational tango
searching out climatic self-governing unity
rather than a righteous raw spot monocultural war
of nightmartish lose/lose uniformity
unto climate collapsing apocalypse,
Mortality of life
giving way to ecocentric wise dancing regenerations
of local through global multicultural Earth,
enjoying nature more cooperatively-managed,
never competitively-owned in spiritualized theories
of universal Yang Domination
with too complexly uniform marching into fragmented war orders
over-ruling uniting invitations
into win/win multigenerational YinDance,
Now wiser about distinguishing
between individualistic capitalism,
supporting business as usual
monoculturally colonizing patriarchy
And Earth's cooperative capitalization,
actively inviting natural/spiritual
sweet spot win/win dialogue
more than raw spot,
Who is the biggest Loser of vanishing success?
academic debates
Confusing wealth requirements
with healthy response to
What is winning?
Since before liberating philosophers
severed natural nutritional eco-healthy balance
from spiritually robust wealthy ego-investment.
Life in and on Earth's resonant ecosystems
can be a different nightmare
when philo-sophias self-righteously
upright leave us behind
so long in search
of health's wealthiest eco-political success.
Permaculture Design
is the opposite of Agriculture Resigned
to unacceptable short-term financial risks
and long-term health and nutrition disasters.
Permaculture Design
is a hybrid of Agriculturally resilient health-climates
and Landscape Architecture,
Design and Engineering
Planting and Harvesting economic cycles
to create not only beautifully interdependent properties
but also nutrition optimizing systems
for human proprietors, ZeroZones,
and also for healing exhausted soil
and water,
air quality
and fire management,
cooperative enlightenment
of ego/eco
left/right nondualistic
health/wealth systems,
Perpetual networks of nutritional
nurturing
nature-enspiriting
polypathic
and metaphoric
Golden Rule
and Golden Yin/Yang Ratio
double-binding non-zero sum emergent
polyculturing resilient outcomes.
As such,
Permaculture Design,
like Restorative Peace through EarthJustice,
invests in Elitist claims
for Truth/Beauty optimizing outcomes,
AND equally co-invests,
Left with cooperative Right-hemispheric,
in radically inclusive feeling-thoughts,
Win/Win experiences and bicameral aspirations
for optimal health/wealth-care outcomes
through compassionate ego/eco-therapeutic intention
for universally integral care-giving and EarthTribe-receiving
between individual proprietary creatures
and interdependent EarthHabitats,
seeking equivalent win/win NonZero-Sum CoPassions,
emergent, yet already integral
synergetically co-developing.
Permaculture Design experiential
prime relational
bilateral mathematic calculations
for Golden Health Ratio output
abstracts from Win-EliteYang /[OVER]
Lose-NonElite Yin
power analysis to grab hold of
NonElite-RightBrain Yin is co-operatively win/win integral awareness
through double-binding
co-arising relationships with
Elite-LeftBrain Yang,
So Yin=Yang
because YinSquared=Yang
(both Left and Right co-equal neurologically dia-logical consciousness)
as ZoneZero=ZoneOne within ZoneTwo within ZoneThree.,..
An interdependent
intersectional
poly-metaphoric Ego-EcoHabitat multiculturing history
Where and if and when
Permaculture Design brings healing neuro-psychological experience
of Left OneZone identity
co-arising Right integral cooperative individuation
for and of Earth's Win/Win
bilateral thought/felt
ZeroZone.
Spontaneous and unannounced
They eschew the simmer
Only to emerge with the rage of a boil
These tempestuous thoughts
Dance brazen atop amber blue flames
They luxuriate inside the walls of my mind
Finding blossom in my impuissant fury
A tiresome firefight of blank rounds
I drop my knees to the Earth
As to increase my glare to the Heavens
This constant debate over rule of my ethos
Hangs with unforgiving weight
Like an empty medallion
Tearing at my aching fleshy nape
Will it ever End?
Beginning now
To see resplendence
Trees whisper to me from their towers
An aria of peace
Mellifluous echoes ring bright like harps in the wind
The emerald leaflets dazzle like sanguine doves after battle
I jolt back to my feet
Sparked by the vivid hues of a lifetime
The same ones the Reaper tries to collect
I believe I can now reach the cottony peaks above
As they sail along the foamy waves
Of richly azure sky
That I can see so clearly now
This pendulum of thoughts
Swings perpetual
In and out of halcyon days
With blithe disregard for my Eden
But yet I wait
I wait for an infinitude
Then I wait for another moment still
I wait like an old man waiting for the train to bring back his wife from the After
Staring down the tracks as they fade into the dark
Dark as a raven's feathers
Not daunting
But certainly full of the unknown
Finally
These thoughts of mine
Exhale like a mist
One that sprinkles fierce
Like fresh water
Striking off the wings of a hummingbird
Who flies indomitable through walls of sullen rain
I do my best to catch the bursts of Essence
And capture them on scrolls
Where they can live soundly
Forever roaring
Sometimes quietly I ponder
Maybe these thoughts escape
Reticent bastions deep within the fog
To be my Guardians
Steadfast and unfazed
If only to catch me one more time
Catch me from seeing only one color
Blank
Catch me from hearing only one sound
Harsh
Catch me from smelling only one scent
Nothing
Catch me from tasting only one flavor
Hate
Catch me from feeling only one feeling
Dead
Yes it is the thoughts that catch me
They do it without reason
They do it without question
They do it because they are me
I catch myself everyday
And I will continue to do so
As long as my thoughts can breathe.
January 21, 2016
Caught in the snares of a night divided between the sacred and the profane,
where the stars seem to whisper forgotten secrets, I find myself in search of truth,
on a journey that parts the veil of self-knowledge,
where every tear of light, every shadow
reveals fragments of an esoteric existence, woven from fragile hopes and deep doubts.
Religion, like Freud, bears the burden of a difficult mission,
like a torch that illuminates the abyss of our fear of self-awareness,
for self-knowledge is man's hardest task,
a risk of revealing how his self-esteem was built
on the power of others, in an effort to deny his own creatureliness and mortality.
Character is the vital lie, a veil that conceals
the painful ambiguities of our likeness to worms,
as well as the divinity incarnate in our being,
and people deny both their creatureliness and their divinity,
to live peacefully in the world, fattened by illusion and comfort.
My stream of thoughts flows like an underground river,
where every idea is a wave that digs deep into the banks of consciousness,
and I get lost in the labyrinth of questions, where every answer
is a riddle that exposes how fragile man is,
a creature warring with its own destiny, rejecting the truth
of creatures and gods in the vast dispersion of existence.
On the land of this night, where moonlight filters through leaves
like an elixir of delusion, I find myself seeking meaning
in a world that will dissolve into its own paradoxes,
in a perpetual struggle between denying fragility and desiring transcendence,
a battle between dualities, where each victory brings a new burden,
and in every defeat, a growth.
This painful ambiguity is man's path,
a road paved with shattered dreams and divine aspirations,
where every step is a tribute paid to the illusion
of being more than a mere creature,
and less than an omnipotent god,
watch as every breath is an ephemeral dance
between the fear of the unknown and the desire to soar.
In a world abandoned by certainties,
where truths are but rejected shadows,
I begin to understand that our only refuge
is to embrace complexity,
to accept ourselves as both trivial and divine
walking on the edge of eternity, where illusion becomes the safety net
in a vile universe, full of fallen stars and dreams lost in the silence of the night.
Where do you begin with Ravichandran Ashwin...intellectual impresario
Red ball romeo... conceptual maestro..the Kingpin of spin..leather lothario
Perpetual taunting...teasing..bubbling cerebral cauldron formenting..haunting
Troubling.. flaunting...tormenting..vaunting..fermenting..pleasing
Luminosity...but another one of the band of badger brothers
Reeks of unique chic tweak at its peak
Bare faced cheek of genius geek cavorting
Discerning pastor preaching while yearning for learning
More about turning…..curiosity pique...sleek sporting freak
Mythical master of disaster..have many if any been reaching 500 wickets faster
Viral spirals about this sage despite his age still taking centre stage
Batters like budgies trapped in a gilded cage
As though he had planned to grandstand the Ravinchand bandstand brand...stealing the back page
Revolution masquerading as evolution...cogitating...searching for a solution
Ruminating..problems to fix with his swag bag of tricks..spinning absolution
Precision physician with constant revision...each edition
A new rendition.. high jinks with winks.. and nods to tradition
Wondering...that furrowed brow..pondering how
Career of seams caressed with finger finesse ... architect..engineer without peer…
Can't debunk the magic funk…just respect from a Test tragic monk
Scientist enthrall..sorcerer gall...still one of us...the best of us all.
So hold your head high Ravichandran..still don't know why you were so often the fall guy
Fans vicarious view..our meme..you part of our team...daring to dream..your art of derring do
Iconic booty of noble probes…lush lullabies...strobes lapping global lobes
Sagacious..loquacious oratory...the tonic...fruity frolic
Fresh from laboratory duty..bodacious bucolic beauty
Even naysayers can't deny they relish that conjuring charm from your cherished right arm.
Let's zoom to the elephant in the room...is Ashwin the don of Indian spin
With the skill and will to top the bill and still pip Anil?
Kumble also a defiant giant on whom they were so reliant
Hot to trot just not as savvy as Ravi
The Don's got the lot..takes number one spot
Wealth of stealth...doyen among men..but never ever about himself
He loves cricket just for the cricket itself..zen then..
Your Elysian Killing Fields-
Your soul, my Love,
is the pristine gilded white,
that cascades down from Heaven's summit.
A river that fills me, a dry riverbed,
with your milk and honey.
Your current carrying me along,
to your eternity.
Eternally, flowing along,
your emotional streams,
towards your heart's tributary.
A maelstrom of passion,
pulling me down into your pools,
solitary actions.
In solitary enormity, destiny-adjoining.
You are my clandestine pulse-
that regulates my being,
with sacred verse.
You are the specter in my blood.
The scepter of my throne,
With you I can believe, in anything,
except for being alone.
Anything, everything you do.
Winds around me as a grapevine, entertwining.
The seduction to drink from your cup.
The ambrosial wine, your overflowing,
flowing into me.
Your passionate canvas calls to me,
to sculpt in its delicate flowering.
In hungered heaves,
when your rib cage expands.
Anticipating,
your Dove's-wanting to be freed.
Only, by my hand.
Free as the flame's flare,
the burning, consuming.
As I stare into you,
feeling your Crimson Fires, there.
Feeling as though, stalked prey.
In your Elysian Killing Fields.
Euphoria in sway,
atop your succubant meal.
My fate's threshold, crossed and sealed.
Helpless to your Impish ways.
I remain held, by your captivating allure.
The intoxicating poison of your capture.
Poison of your angelic tainting,
that runs through me,
clouding evermore.
The Conductor of the chemicals within me.
You entrench, your surrounding,
that abounds around me.
The Ballerina of the Little Death.
In sourcery, comes,
seduction's breath-The dance- of the seven veils.
Perpetual, into hunger's ballet,
which permeates, the skin,
burroughing its ethereal entrails.
You're always a puzzle,
a timeless wonder,
always to be.
The first of my needs.
If you turned to be the Devil's Daughter.
I fear he would have me, indeed.
My Love, the other part of me.
With this dream-
I pledge my Love to thee.
Yes, you are the ghost within my wings.
I am a phoenix rising from the sea.
Bring me out into your spring.
where I will drown,
in your farthest reaches.
Life to me, you will endlessly be instrumental in, as the Lords revival brings.
The Elite warrioress from Elysia to
Elate me, inflate me to Life from my dreams.