Long Perplexes Poems
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Look at the baseball field.
The poet’s words, a sword to wield.
To these pleasures I consistently yield.
But heavenly joys I often neglect.
Where are the heavenly spires?
The bosom that protects against the eternal fires.
Where in worship no one tires.
And the holy one’s face is clearly seen.
What is the reward that is beyond our sight?
How are we to navigate through the night,
With an invisible joy as our guiding light?
How can wicked hearts love one who is perfect?
And this thought perplexes me:
The one weeping in Gethsemane.
For his alienation from the holy trinity.
A fellowship not known by mortal men.
And yet my heart tends to go,
Towards the summer, and to the snow.
My love is for things that I know.
But the holy fellowship I‘ve never seen.
I can boast of the poet’s words.
I can admire the fish and the birds.
I can point to harmonies written in thirds.
But the Holy one’s face I cannot describe.
Man in his mind’s eye.
Can conjure up griffins and fairies that fly.
As well as fraudulent gods in the sky.
But a true deity he cannot draw a picture.
For the company of friends we are grateful.
In our camaraderies we are playful.
But we don’t desire to sit at the trinity’s roundtable.
Of that friendship we are alien.
And if there is a heavenly hymn able to touch my ear.
My eardrum may never again resound, I fear.
The face of the savior unclear,
To a mere golem returning to the mud.
Preponderance of dimensions perplexes with bliss string fervor
Lake mine previous
(stream of consciousness
imponderable) poetic efforts,
sans spiritus mundi, converse
sing a boot unfamiliar thread,
and ignored common
sense ne'er re: hearse
sing, asper William Butler Yeats,
aye went off deep end, perhaps
provoked at least une nurse
sis sear re: literary unlicensed violation,
and additionally one emphatic curse,
where mine poe whet
tick feet did immerse
for the methamphetamine time acid,
(I said to myself), why traverse
pointlessly imagining something worse
tread about, i.e. say...tripping
along head over heels, yet
nagging notion would not disperse
venturing blithely writing
plunging into terra incognita parallel
universe a "multiverse"
herewith also Ark
chew woolly Noah intent
for yours truly to drown while purse
sue wing abstract notion,
viz domain of science fiction,
never intermittently intersperse
sing following lines with "HELP, I need
somebody...", nor deliberately submerge
readers within a mini sea course
of confusion, but I feel confounded
gripped, lured...and will gladly reimburse,
should delving over my head diverse
if eyeing breadth, length, scope...
beyond realm of mom and pop verse
a tile theoretical physicists,
who casually identify ten dimensions
— eleven including time, nor averse
slithering thru worm holes
such more'n flight of fancy seems perverse,
whereat numberless whirled
wide webs presents obverse
to accepted paradigm reverse
sing scientific tenets describing
quarks, plus portal bellow much
room (See Alice in Wonderland) disperse
sing notions, where exodus
down the rabbit hole
into alternate self contained
separate cosmological infinitesimal channels
far more exciting than reality television!
The life of mature minds
is aid to all silly clowns
adorn life and silently binds
and blooms each face and efface each frown.
The bluster of emotions, floods down
the mind and sheer delight glistens
on lips, and insipid nature drown
in delight, and to each incertitude silently listens
The drops of blushed desire with tinge
of fantasy and wild ecstasy drops
from minds abroad and bring
the sole being some consolation and passively props.
The restlessness of the soul
and uneasy hidden fears
and slow down incertitude rests all
and dim blur eyes literally tears.
The unreasoned thoughts perplexes and retards
and swarthy leaden eyes fails
the brimmed tear eye silently guards
but full emotioned, to visage dribblingly sails.
The mortal gazes at psyche as an urchin
with wild surmise and feel puzzled
to things unknown and admire with chin
up, full gape wide and blank eyes dazzled.
With everyday under protected skies,
we come across some traitors lives.
Promised solution to all complexes,
riches beyond faint heart perplexes.
Adoration by fame benediction,
bargains without guilt affliction.
The patriot and his free ticket vote,
righteousness that need some promote.
Fees for the clamorous priest,
words of comfort in the least.
Stones and graves as memorandum,
dust to dust and its bleeding phantom.
Bubbles to buy in ounces of gold,
it’s the story as package to be sold.
The price to know God for asking,
resuming whole souls tasking.
Imitation of immortality without death,
lyrics and rhymes already in breath.
Scientific prophesies as politic conclusion,
sweetest moments of delusion.
Medias senses of what is right in time,
feeding the truth through a costly plastic frame.
Enslaving oneself by far more credit,
for the children to know its inherit.
The dying dream with its inspiration,
ceased moments lost in translation.
The placid and self contained condition,
takes forms in transparent definition.
As term-less feast of our content,
souls are more then body meant.
Wasted time in displeased self-assertion,
no values after deeds in resignation.
The greatest tragedy of the world in confusion,
the lack of awareness in spiritual evolution.
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are selfish and mean.
Were they abandoned in bathroom stalls?
Did they have to survive on a cold tile floor?
Was their world so cruel that they think only of themselves?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are bossy and belligerent.
Do they think this is the way to influence you?
To make you a friend? To straighten you out?
Why is their way the only way?
Were they raised by alcoholics? Not able to change their sad childhoods?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are perpetually angry and grouchy.
Do they never find their bliss? Do they frighten away their soul mates?
Do they not know that sadness is at the root of their anger?
Why do they not reach out for help? Do they trust no one?
Were they raised in houses where mothers held I-pads instead of them?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed by depression,
Anxiety, and grief. These feelings are terrifying for me. I am
An empath, so I have to stay away from these feelings. I hope
You understand. If my empathy perplexes you, I get it.
At the heels of a blessed consequence, spurs unpredictable fervency that is extremely engrossing, it perplexes conscionable determinations, concerning exhausting heydays of a celebratory stretch, that radiates from an unfathomable receptacle, wherever, wrapped gifts stead itself in anticipatory sensation, to collect and concentrate, then it will undividedly precede, o'er a decisive menacing expectant eve, plus, simultaneously surrender joyously, amidst an agreeable, explosive, color-filled night sky finale.
calendrical charms
thoughtless and thoughtful gifts coaxed
colorful glowed eve
2019 December 15
December or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Howmanysyllables;
5,7,5
Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Quietude
I fail to coerce the pleasures
of the angular hushed cast that
repose near secret abundance,
an army of cloudy measures.
They dance serenely against less
modest logging near its silence
defense, encountering seizure
as my statuesque poise digress.
Overwhelmed, stood diminutive
in a soundless spread of leisure
as a mime wall layout treasures
of a speechless contributive.
The shadowed wall rises and sinks,
as one tongue-tied formed forty winks,
the whole functionality blinks,
an inaudible show methinks.
Tis unbearable to witness,
pray tell my savior cometh to
provoke a feather to fall and
perplexes an analysis.
I reveal my lamentation
of it intuitively stunned,
the fluffiness whisked e'er so soft
facing the wood-grained foundation.
Creating such a disturbance
of natural elements oft
space and time, that its sheer purpose
o'er the grain gave an appearance.
Twas newsworthy, the faintest hint,
proffered my initial imprint,
that the perceptiveness blueprint,
was a micro-captive reprint.
2020 February 17
Lines to Awaken your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
3. A hasty glance and still my heart leaped up - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Rhyme Scheme;
abca, dced, feaf, hhhh, abca, dced, feaf, hhhh.
Howmanysyllables;
32 lines x 8 syllables per = 256 syllables total
*Image of Stakeout On Dope Street Withdrawl by Warner.
Delirium
I stepped in
yesterdays cold
that babbled through
a rosed mist,
its clammy waters
rallied the shallows
that suffer skin to clinch
flesh in curbed
shriveling
crimps,
Shapes a
glacial sheath
paired amongst
innocence, roughly
stays offbeat,
occasions a
past,
Coupling realms
of diverse remnants,
same as wavering
opinions, inducing
banks overflowing,
frigid blight
realized,
A duality
morphed as
a single organism,
cells bobbing well against a
skeletal chamber, wherein, the
upper region of unswerving
senses, uniquely contrast,
yet settled in their
unsettling way of
indivisibility,
Tug-of-war
eternally plays,
yes or no wobbles on a
scheming balancing beam,
and juggling is being skillfully
played whilst illusion rules
consciousness, botched
mayhem willingly flaps,
till it fancies its
place,
The chaos
that further perplexes
a cranium, where atop beams
heavenly pivoting light that gleams
then glows, bestowing its energetic
love, diligent patience flashes yon,
awakening a wholesomeness,
albeit, temporarily inclined,
cognizant vicissitudes
parts among us
and resonates
--an instant
warmth.
2020 July 16
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND VERSE FREED
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 02
In Sumer land, you first appeared.
A potent god, both loved and feared.
Queen of Heaven, joined to its lights.
Moon your father, Sun your brother.
Venus was your symbolic star.
You were too, a goddess of war.
Fierce, fiery, passionate, and proud,
violent storms raged in your breast.
Goddess of sexuality,
and patron of the prostitutes
Your worship involved sexual acts,
Your temple housed your prostitutes.
Enchantress you, and sorceress,
goddess of magic and of spells.
You spur desire and alter forms,
despising all societal norms.
You changed your face to suit your space,
And you are known by many names.
Ashtoreth, Astarte, Inanna,
Aphrodite, Venus are you.
You are a female and a male,
with power to transform and mar.
You turn a woman into a man
and a man into a woman.
You ruled the cultures of the past,
and held sway over regions vast.
But when the Christian message came,
men’s hearts were changed, and you lost fame.
Your temples famed relics became,
as worshippers no longer came.
Your cult faded as all cults do,
when men discover what is true.
You lost your lure for centuries,
while men to God their knees did bend.
But as their faith began to wane,
your fame you did, slowly regain.
You spurred a revolt on sex norms,
then inverted natural sex forms.
You blurred lines between the sexes,
breeding in minds that which perplexes.
Today you wage a full-scale war,
designed to destroy and to mar.
You plan to squash man’s soulish bent
and from him every virtue rent.
Wake up my fellow human beings.
Consider what these grim lines mean.
Ishtar wants to destroy your soul,
But God desires to make you whole.
**Mental Rumination**
Every single day brings with it a new and unfamiliar word, each one carrying its own distinct meaning that often resonates with the shifts in my life. Retirement, for instance, has proven to be a profound transformation, especially during this initial year. I had envisioned a seamless transition, convinced that I had everything perfectly mapped out. However, as the days progress, I catch myself grappling with self-doubt, second-guessing nearly every decision I make, particularly those concerning my health and overall mindset.
It seems like a soundtrack of sorts plays in my mind—a loop of Bruno Mars’ “The Lazy Song.” The lyrics echo my innermost desires: a yearning to do absolutely nothing and simply enjoy the leisure for which I had longed. Reflecting on my aspirations for retirement, I realize that this very notion of relaxation was all I had ever dreamed about.
So, it perplexes me that a motivational speaker, someone who is supposed to uplift and inspire, is instead filling me with guilt for not maximizing every moment of this so-called freedom. Why am I feeling this way when I thought this phase of my life would be a time of unbridled joy and fulfillment?
I've recently become aware that I've gained some extra weight, and it's not contributing positively to my overall well-being.
It's interesting how these YouTube Nigerian movies have such a strong allure for me; they hit my taste buds like an addictive substance.
Although many of their movies are poorly directed and lack the technical finesse one might expect from a polished production, I find myself drawn to their charm and vibrant storytelling.
There is something uniquely entertaining about the way they portray life, and I cannot help but get lost in the attention-grabbing plots and often over-the-top drama.
It's a guilty pleasure that I know I need to manage better,
Mental rumination is a genuine experience that many of us face as human beings. It is essential to acknowledge it, as it impacts our thoughts and overall well-being.
While it seems like I am grounded on my couch, and doing absolutely nothing
I cannot be happier doing that.
But as the saying goes, I will take one day at a time. “Lord Jesus