Long Pessimism Poems
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I once had an office job sitting next to Miss Sunshine day in and day out. She and her 7th Day Adventist Jesus were always so positive and jolly about everything, it was hard not to smack her.
One day with syrupy sweet intonation she asked why I was so cynical and wasn't I an unhappy person.
I said, "Only a sociopath could be happy about the truth of things, but I'm just a realistic observer not hiding behind cheerful nonsense; there's no correlation to happy or unhappy. Look at you for instance. You are smiling and upbeat all the time. And I don't believe I've ever met an unhappier person."
She was stunned, momentarily silent, mouth hanging open. Then she burst into terrible wracking sobs of anguish.
Jealousy is a ball and chain
worn by those who always complain
Blah, blah, blah in echoed refrain
With such disdain With such disdain
What does this person hope to gain?
One like this will never hold reign
When pessimism is their bane
Shamefully vain Shamefully vain
Something's off-kilter in the brain
Perhaps they drank too much champagne
Have a noodled mind of chow Mein
They can't be sane They can't be sane
This phobic one must feel the strain
Lack of love fills a heart with pain
With pretense they righteously feign
Harsh words, inane Harsh words, inane
Pathway to joy
paved gold not alloy
Resolute and true
eternal life in view
Our pathway to joy
paved gold not alloy
A life passionate,yet pure
A promise so sure
On pathway to joy
paved gold not alloy
Creating compassion
learning His lesson
Our pathway to joy
paved gold not alloy
PATHWAY to JOY sep 2020 version
resolute and true
eternal life in view
I smile and laugh often
enjoy beauty
where and when
always passionate yet pure
with a promise so sure
explore every yearning
I let creativity sing
release my inner self
pessimism
has no scope
in this life
lived with hope
bold
I never hesitate
as ideas gestate
not letting
the moment pass
draw back the veil
to let imagination set sail
the exploration starts
with what's in my heart
those poeima
gifts free from above
mine to deploy
each earthly day
lent for me to enjoy
the sacred
with
the secular
oh
this sense of
glee
jumping with joy
spinning within
joined with Jesus
I capture
the rapture
Did John the Baptist lack faith in Jesus and his mission?
Can blood that flows in and through the heart tread with pessimism?
John knew that the times, like a stream in flux, were in transition.
Living for the dawn of hope, he was filled with optimism.
He's the Lamb of God who takes away sins. John knew well.
Shouldn't he tell this to the world before he's faced with death?
Andrew and John found that each work of Jesus had a spell.
Even those who were arrested by the death regained their breath.
Baptist was the link between the Old Testament and the New
Like sides of the same coin, for him, were faith and repentance.
Unlike a reed swaying in the wind, life has a new view.
Baptist knew well that Jesus was the sign of transcendence.
The wisdom that was in Jesus changed the ways of the world.
As the blossoming of buds, slowly, God's kingdom unfurled.
Hiding under her blankets
The darker the better
....presses her button to drop the blinds
The darker the better.
The only light comes from the flicker of the horror movie
Where the hellovision screen is her mirror...it makes her feel at home.
Her clothes fit her well;
- Aching uncertainty
- Dark forebodings
- Tender pessimism
The mirror keeps reminding her.
The bottle of emptied Johnny Walker speaks:
"You've stopped walking",
The dropped blind says
"You've stopped seeing",
The mirror confirms:
"This is what you've become".
The arteries have hardened...her heart pumps without a beat.
With the press of a button
The blind can go up
The screen can stop its lies
The heater could fire up.
But in her caged freedom...
She has made her choice.
Her eyes narrow as she focuses harder on the screen...
The darker the better.
Note: this is a description of a women in her late 20's who lodged with a friend. This was her life in her room; empty whisky bottles, watching depressing shows on her Netflix account as she curls under her blankets. She was offered help, and a new identity in Christ....but she made her choice. How many more are there like her ?.
In August when the days are hot,
nights are cool, men are shot;
fooling with another's wife
too many men cut with knife.
Walk a street some evening
time is late and no one's there
even moonlight stays away
even stars no longer stare
no one sees what happens then
when night is finally here
darkness is, to good, no friend.
it brings us instant fear
something there is lurking closely
waiting for a passerby
something soon will happen then
someone, much too soon will die
it happens often in the city
people read it in the papers
glancing from their eyes with pity
into windows of their neighbors
could it be the one next door
the lady living down the hall
probably someone's second cousin
murder sometime visits all
we blame it on the homeless ones
no friends or family here
they must have surely come undone
they always seemed a little *****
when day restores the light
we clearly see so well
all memories are gone of fright
the visions lost, of waiting hell
but lately hatred is emerging
night to day in bright lit sun
dark to daytime crime is merging
murder now is just for fun
feelings so transparent
no more secrets, no more lies
daily, lives go errant and
another sadly dies
justice constant breaking down
people fear our law's abuse
order is to chaos thrown
there seems no more excuse
what to do when all else fail
just grab a loaded gun
join the crowd and fear no jail
give in, amuck to run
more victims than the victimless
more criminals than caring friend
a country that's a holy mess
soon headed for its end
pray all neighbors learn to love
pray to mend all broken hearts
don't wait for saving from above
it is with us that healing starts
we are the ones
for whom we pray and wait
we are the ones
whose futures we create
we are the ones
to fix us at our core
we are the God
that we've been waiting for.
The Fight
Determination to remove your force
of despondency.
That osmosis of my joy being leeched
through your membrane of anxiety
to a cavern of what if’s and if only’s
preventing the next step, the positive thought
due to the never- ending saturation of the negative.
Maybe moment by moment, cell by cell
is all I can fight to exchange this pessimism for
optimism, so that my existence moves towards
the light of happiness, defeating the empty
thoughts and lies that try to drag me into darkness.
Dark flowers of foreboding may lay hidden,
shaded and mushroom-like under logs and
fallen leaves of disquiet and worry,
creating shadow, trying to remove the sunlight,
hoping to replace the blue forest flowers I grow.
But I won’t give up, for light always overcomes darkness.
A heavy fog, misty gloom, sadness
Spreads all around me, sinking deeper
Into my spirit, my heart – my depths
Singling me out for the doubt
That feasts on my broken dreams
Devouring all my happiness and breathing
Slowly, urgently…. Through my veins
Flowing uncertainty, suspicion, skepticism
Powerful plasma of despair and dread
Sinking my joy into the intense blackness
Stifling every splash of inspiration,
Shining panic, terror, through my silent
Need for something to heal, to help
Comforting the disquiet that leaves me…
Anxious and afraid
A vague sense of ambiguity, desolation
Sweeps through my heart, my thoughts,
Discouraging, daunting, dampening
Every feeling of goodness, acceptance
hope
The joy that once danced there within me
is numbed, stiff, frozen beyond thawing
tenderness, once liquid, is cold and solid,
like a prayer that has faded into the past
leaving only the memory of how amazingly
my heart has been blessed
Night creeps into my bones, shattering
All the optimism that I’ve known
Ominous, ruined songs of anticipation
Mysterious suspicions attack, even my fantasies
Feel like pessimism buried beneath
Masks of gladness – the nervousness
Rages through my stillness, covering me
With threads of incumbrance, alarm, trepidation
Fear is never ending, always there, speaking
Louder in the silence than it is in the noise
Intensity pouring out hopelessness through my soul
Dimming even my very best aspirations,
Courage is gone and I am ashamed
That this fear, this dread… it wilts my pleasure
Recedes into the shadows, weakening
Failure shrivels all my inspirations, colors me
In hues of death, grief – lasting phobias
When the panic rises, on the inside
I know only to hide – beneath the silhouettes
Peace, prayer, praise… they wane, vanishing
Into the cryptic secrets of mental illness
Where light grows faint, reflecting only
The sighs of a night so yawning it speaks
In a voice of demise, a voice of passing
A voice so afraid it is as garish, stark…
As fear itself!
I walked along route 58
There was Mumbai dreams and Harbor Freight
A hippie guy sold sunglasses from a stall
One had a rosy tint, I paid 5 dollars, that was all.
There was a warning label with it, I threw it away
Who needs all the fine print, what could it possibly say?
I looked at the traffic, it was stop and go
I slipped into a side street, out of the flow
The noise of cars faded, as I walked up the hill
Then I saw a big house, I remember it still.
It was painted pale blue, the windows had white trim
Carved railings outside, bright lights within
There were children on the swing, and birds in the air
Their Grandma on the porch rocking on a chair
The lilacs were purple, the flowers dark red
A pony was grazing beside the garden shed.
I walked through nearby woods, got home very late.
That night I told my brothers about this path off 58:
I said, "you got to come; on me you can depend."
Next day they came with me, past the sign that said, "dead end."
I left my glasses home that day, they had a hippie vibe
The shape was like John Lennon's, not my brother's tribe.
My brothers are right wing, and I didn't want them to rebel,
To get them off the beaten track is always a hard sell.
The house was there alright, but the grass was wild and high
Boards were cracked, windows broken, I had to rub my eye.
I sheepishly looked back, they joked, I felt the sting.
Then I waded through the grass, found a broken swing.
I've worn my glasses since, my reality was augmented
Everything looked better, it made me seem demented
I became a radical and shouted world peace couldn't wait.
I marched for no more police, and an end to the state.
Everything looked so rosy, all we had to do was try
My brothers couldn't take it, couldn't understand why.
Many years later, I dropped the glasses in some grass
A football player ran over them trying to catch a pass
The rosy hue was gone, and I finally understood
Too much glamorizing detracts from what is good.
So now I wear bifocals, read the fine print in every dream
We must focus on what is, not on what might have been.
December 25 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Revelation 1-3
Key Verse – Revelation 1:8 I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR HE IS
THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA
Praise be to God for He is the Alpha and Omega along His:
Faithfulness in flourishing our faith
Fervency in fueling our fortitude
Freedom in forgiving our foolishness
Firmness in framing our foundation
Festiveness in filling our futility
Revelation 2:18 Praise be to the Lord for having eyes
like unto flame of fire, searching our hearts against:
Pride by His power
Prejudice with His prudence
Perversions along His perfection
Pessimism toward His purpose and plan
Preferences upon His principled precepts
Revelation 3:3 Praise be to the Saviour for
knowing our works with our:
Experience but dry in service
Exposure but dirty in saintliness
Example but defiled in sacrifices
Existence but dead in spirituality
Exaltation bestowed by His salvation-security. Amen!
December 25, 2024