Long Perspectives Poems
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PHRASIS STREAMS part 3
Vapid smiles accepted with a sigh
radiate,diffused smiles say it as
it says,nature’s way,wisdom without
wonder,nothing left to mar.Whereas
scandal stains&shames as ambition
dwindles&dies.Seemingly at a loss,
trouble torments,standards sink&subside
disregarding the invaluable observation
that change cannot hurry.Such unreal
perspectives,never ending desires which gorge
‘til replete ignoring the splendour of
experience,bringing manifold inner
futility a discovery to astound the
dull discussion that ensue.
from my Streams of Consciousness 2003
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
To my senses it’s a castle built of glass and burning light.
An endless hall of alabaster where angels soar in flight.
Surrounded by rich gardens; cool grass and perfect breeze.
Saints attired in silken robes who live in perfect ease.
To my mind it is beyond all space and lies outside of time.
All beings pledged to holiness attuned in perfect rhyme.
Infinity -the teardrop- of perfect love sublime.
No form is required, yea, the will is pure and prime.
To my heart it is a presence, the comfort of a touch,
Knowing my creator loves me; is it not always such?
It is, though surely, you’ll agree that paradise will come,
When one can gaze upon the face and heart where love flies from.
And clearly it is evident that the elements don’t align,
O my soul it doesn’t matter! I still seek the divine.
9 September 2018
Written for "Describe Heaven" contest sponsored by Faraz Amjal
You can't have both, you must give up one,
Which is stronger the stealings or the love,
Regain the love and give up the stealing,
Then watch your image fall in the making,
How important is it to you not to look like a fool,
If you let everyone else make your decisions for you,
Who knows best, them or God,
Are you truly following your heart,
For when you give into love, its blessing can't compare,
To any amount image you thought you could wear,
Simple becomes beautiful, worries become less,
Less competing and comparing, you'll face your own heart instead,
Busy becomes a whole brand new definition,
Entrigued by life's beauty, and not prestigious judgments,
your personal relationships become much more personal,
The time you have to put your heart out on the table,
Am I Martha or Mary or a little of both,
I can't stay in one season for too long, you see me than you dont,
Does it mean I feel any less when I'm gone,
When God is working on my heart, absolutely not!,
Does his direction matter more than what others think,
Time alone with him, opening my eyes to see,
Preparation has a way of healing old wounds,
Changing our perspectives, instead of reacting too soon,
healing the hurt to come together again,
The love always brings us back, my friend.
The years that are distilled into the wisdom pool.
With all of the perspectives, to see through walls.
The interplay of the known and of the unknown.
Brings a bright awareness to the issue at hand.
The elders are commissioned to advise the young.
The wandering and the ignorant to raise them up.
That they might benefit from their experiences.
To know the secrets of daily life's ups and downs.
From those who have witnessed the hard battles.
To feel the fear that was broken with brave deeds.
To understand about life from those who lived it.
The right information can make all the difference.
A man might just find his dreams with some help.
From the elders and their wisdom pool of life.
3/11/21
Different generations
Different life styles
From deficiency to abundance
From neglect to care
From basic education to higher education
From man monopolization to women arising
From single income bearers to both parents working
From self-raising babies to baby sisters to nurseries
Different generations
Different perspectives of life
Different hazards
Different confrontations
Who is happier
Man is always curious and greedy
They always make problems to be solve
Like pollution, wars, bribery, disputes,racism
Who is happier
Finally they will lean to religions
But who knows God is not to be bribed
God will only help those who help themselves
Drugged in worthless natural highs...what comes up must come down as they all say these dismal days...or is it all in my mind? I'm a delusional daydreamer, but I'm an ice fire that can scorch up in coolness
Oh, these night notions are dope...legit love and harboring hate hunt me down like prey to the predator of the wilderness of woe wistfulness - elevate my spirits of descending darkness
Pardon me for using modern slang...I'm not a Shakespeare or a Rowling, so I'm leaning on my wise and foolish Earnings...I am Dave the Brave and other names that hold so much meaning to me, but mean close to naught in other peoples' craniums of selfish ambitions and personal perspectives
Empty your thoughts and be free with liberty in heart, mind and soul...do your thang and you'll be everything, not nothing...God, forgive me, for Ive been an abomination to the Holy Spirit by giving in to the nature of Human lusts and temptations on many fickle levels...I can't recall the last time I've lived life without a care...help, please? That would be DOPE if you can rescue me from the save-me, hopeless, and helpless mentality...
we could
pound our perspectives
as flat as a pancake
and force-feed each other with them.
we could debate
until two plus two is five
and still arrive at
an impregnable impasse;
a dead-end street.
you seem to be as stubborn as I am.
my mind -
and yours -
clearly will not change.
so why don't we agree to disagree?
you see, I'm simply sick of shouting,
tired of talking.
a jolly darling right angle went straight out of the lateral box
fed up with grinding a living on the periphery of pure reason
he thought back to his square roots and longed for a change
his strict Dad Monty Pythagoras had been rather level headed
had equated logic premises and conclusions with happiness
a refined man steeped in knowledge in search for great virtue
his Mom Pi however never lived up the promise of her name
strayed from her calculated path of predetermined precision
abandoned caution and boredom and soaked in a bubbly bath
Archimedes my **** I can’t throw the baby out of the water
had a fling with Plato in his cave and settled for the kitchen
made the best strawberry crumble from recipes of her aunt
Little Monty Pi enjoyed whipped cream and emotion much more
than obedience and hypothenuses and left mere equations behind
licked off the whisk and dreamed of the perfect circle for good
vanilla emotions danced with sweet sugar candy mountains as
his feelings submerged into a fantasy world coated in cinnamon
he was warned that he might have eggy intuitions on his face
for shells would easily crack and ovations weren’t perfectly round
but his world was not flat anymore and he wished for perspectives
of a different kind than sitting in the lost corner at ninety degrees
if you can stand the heat you should remain in the bakehouse
savour cookies or condensed milk tarts for such exquisite cuisine
beats mere cognition and the dour fragrance of stale rationale
Mum chuckled while Dad despaired and took out his slide rule
proposed that life was no honey pot and cooking was effluvium
misleading and not up to the fine task of consequential virtues
but like most kids he would only listen to what he wanted to hear
put Nirvana on the headphones and closed his mind to objections
eventually he learnt that life was really a giant rigged rollercoaster
maybe the strawberries were laced with psychedelic truth serum
or the icing on the gateau was to abandon forethought and planning
most of all that he was neither circle nor angle and just needed to be
30th August 2020
PERSPECTIVES
at every
turn
insistent
tender
encounters
more
prominent
refocussi
of
attention
to
proceed
repurposed
in
an enfilade
brilliant
&
intense
grandiloquence
of
self-regard
with
compelling
familiarity
in
an
unforgettable
literal
fragile
labyrinth
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
My muse is like a carnival,
a celebration of kaleidoscope colors,
a dazzling display of light and sound.
Circling slowly until I feel dizzy.
Will I crumple and fall?
A house of mirrors
with peculiar shapes and sizes
evoking flustered feelings
and contorting my cognitive map.
Which avenue shall I follow?
A tunnel of love where my mind
lingers on the ways emotion
plays with my heart, at first
soothing, then exasperating.
Liberating or beleaguering?
A house of horrors where
I live out my darkest thoughts
and flex my remarkable resilience
to the beckoning of the dark side.
Can I be truly free?
The roller coaster is exhilarating
and sets my mind free again
the ups and downs of life and living
and the fear of death
Is that so wrong?
Titillating tilt-a-whirl,
multitudinous perspectives
twirling one side then another
seeing with curious fly eyes.
Am I, or my muse, to blame?