Long Progenitor Poems
Long Progenitor Poems. Below are the most popular long Progenitor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Progenitor poems by poem length and keyword.
The melodic tinkle of the music box moved her.
She arose with her pretty tresses and floor length silk
toward the shadows that possess treasures of death.
Like a grandfather clock with metal prongs and teeth
it plays a lovely song that draws the gothic lass
into the abyss. Her temporal time harnessed
by a young girl’s dreamy track, “dum, dum, dum,
da, da, da, dum, dum…” In reminiscent fog
of childhood, Cassandra moves with the innocence
of a toddler, with the outward aplomb of a zombie.
When, at last, she is in the spiderweb, her senses
come around. She still can’t flee and the shadow
becomes a man, a thing, unthinkable - she recognizes
his hypnotic countenance, his eyes an unimaginable blue,
his face paler than a ghostly child, his cape - a shroud
about his shoulders. He hums, “dum, dum, dum,
da, da, da, dum, dum…” A guttural scream, she
recognizes vibrates from her own lips. The monster
allows the chase and caterwaul within his space.
Melancholy and madness, take hold, as her neck is bared
and she becomes one of the undead. Only released
from the melody’s hold, when she she sinks her teeth
into an innocent victim, but alas, she also is reminded
of her past life, so cold, she weeps. The progenitor laughs.
Petals, leaves and thorns
Dwelling on the same bough
Dance together with breeze
Singing the song of life
Blending joy and distress
Oozing multiple colors
Unifying pleasure and pain
Dried leave at the feet of trees
Once flourishing and vibrant green
Ending their journey of bloom
Continue exuding truth and beauty
Gleefully merge with the soil
And nurture their progenitor
In order to appear as reborn
Be yourself
You are the ultimate
Beyond loss and gain
Nothing survives perpetually
Even the god's died in the jungles,
Uncared and lonely
So, enjoy the fountain of life
Under the mystical veil of a moonless night,
I am but a leaf carried by the unseen currents of time,
A feather in the wind, anchored to nothing, bound by no direction.
Each day calls to me with its silent voice,
Each night whispers ancient promises,
And my thoughts flow like an untamed river,
A cascade of dreams, fantasies, and forgotten memories.
I possess no center, only an unquenched desire to explore,
To delve into every crevice, every hidden corner of existence.
I could step through the door this very moment,
Leaving behind all that is known,
For nothing binds me here,
Not even the pulse of my own heart.
In the palm of my hand, the lines of heart and mind intertwine,
A single path, an undetermined destination.
I find solace in the languor of a Sunday afternoon,
Sipping beer, losing myself in reverie,
There is no compulsion to embody maturity,
For all adults merely play their parts,
In an elaborate charade, a delicate farce.
As you feel, so do I,
My thoughts are but the mirror of my emotions,
I see you today, and expect no change tomorrow,
I will not fear your descent into despair,
For I do not see death as an ending,
Merely a passing shadow, a fleeting presence.
Women place themselves at the dawn of stories,
Then spread like whispers through the fabric of the world,
Enigmatic and profound.
"The great cosmetic strangeness of the deeply normal person."
Those were the people, and I, a wanderer without a homeland,
Tethered to nothing but a thin thread,
A segment of life without form or structure.
The photographer, dark-skinned, and I, the writer, pale,
Parted ways at this point,
He shunned the vision, but I sought it,
For it lay before my eyes, undeniable,
And death, neither grand nor trivial,
Just a presence, or an absence, a nuance overlooked.
God, the progenitor of fervent religious impulse,
Poetio, the hunter of bears, not trains,
For the train will crush him beneath its relentless wheels,
And I always believed there was another way,
A necessity to find that elusive path,
And we bear witness to this necessity.
The sole distinction between men and women,
Is a labyrinth of trials and failures,
An eternal dance of existence,
In which we lose and find ourselves,
Under the mystical veil of a moonless night.
I awkwardly, ineptly, and submissively fumbled thru life...,
whereat purposefulness rarely gained traction
Fatherhood (half my life time ago)
bolstered reasonable rhyme
manifesting itself before
these myopic bespectacled eyes.
Infancy, babyhood, and Childhood
evidenced, noticed, and witnessed
adequate basic provisions,
and no shortage of food
engendered dynamic cohesion
allowed, enabled, and provided
"mama's boy" imbued,
and attempted to compensate
being socially withdrawn
posting and answering
personal classified advertisements,
(while marital vows
long since pledged),
now in hindsight such risqué
communiqués juvenile and lewd
sense and sensibility
of healthy emotional, mental
and physical natural maturation
social withdrawal did occlude
invariably classmates found
lack of responsiveness rude.
Additionally, yours truly
never field tested
self reliance skill sets,
but rather overstayed his welcome
livingsocial with parents
at 324 Level Road,
whose patience he sorely tested
ofttimes giving rise
since hashtagged as
dad's infamous midnight lectures
heavily referencing expletives
which vituperative ultimatums
extemporaneously delivered courtesy
paternal linkedin progenitor of mine
when the doomsday clock struck twelve
allowing, enabling, providing
standing room only
promising colorful denunciatory epithets
assaulting, cannonading, firing...
exploding character assassination
verbal thermonuclear bombs squarely
lobbed at unemployed sole son,
his/him offspring afflicted then (three
plus decades ago and now)
with debilitating anxiety/
social panic, palmar hyperhidrosis,
body dysmorphia, and
irritable bowel for starters.
I (a rather meek individual)
stood still as a statue
silently weathering such
blistering, calumniating, excoriating,
fulminating, haranguing brickbats
upon a rather docile doodler with words,
who essentially internalized
torturous barrage vacuous warnings
to shape up or ship out,
which mother and father dearest
doled out their version
of abusive traumatic boot camp
survival mode qualified
as invisible contusions, fractures,
infarctions, lesions, obstructions
and ruinations upon psyche.
I sit, listening to the whisper in my breath,
shaping my expressions is safer than meth.
A voice among others, I am poet progenitor.
Do you see what I have wrought?
Heavens to metaphor!
As originator and instigator, I wordsmith
like a predator,
a panther ready to pounce,
an enchanter you might denounce.
Do you fear what I have brought?
Heavens to metaphor!
Finding fluid flourishes like jewels,
writing often without rules.
The singing cantor of candor,
A traveling troubadour
you never asked for.
Do you like what I have taught?
Heavens to metaphor!
In these days of isolation,
tenderness must be no aberration.
Here my casual parlance dances,
offering intimacy new chances,
for all your cares it enhances.
Do you welcome what I have sought?
Heavens to metaphor!
I said to my prodigal son
who stole from me,
it is not competitive economic strategies
that dominantly empower life;
Competitive ecologies and economies
are dominantly decomposing monocultures,
just the opposite of regenerative synergetic praxis
and regenerative intent toward polycultures.
Monopolistic internal consumer-culture
develops into decomposing organic systems
dissonant cognitive
and emotive
and neural
and digestive systems
diseased health and well-being
Socio-economic
and politically dissociated systems,
all negatively trending toward closed-entropic,
swollen monolithic sad dismay
replacing former therapeutic system
glad array.
We need cooperatively dominant economies and ecologies
to reintegrate positive revolutions
that endo- and ecto-symbiotically evolve
dipolar co-arising life regenerating
holistic healthy systems.
Competitive critical events,
like stealing from and stolen from,
struggling between painful suffering of ego-self consciousness
and "positive deviant" stress,
self co-arising right-brained redactive eco-precociousness
Contention
seeking bicamerally balancing contentment,
joint cooperative ego-eco echoing
incoming/outgoing waves
of double-binding comprehensive co-passioness.
Primal
and yet stealthy
nonverbal structures
of cosmo-neuro-logical information
evolves bilateral-analogical exflowation,
cobinary
bicameral information co-redeems
transparently co-arising
EgoSelf+EcoOther resonant co-discernment.
"All money is a matter of belief"
said Adam Smith,
As all embodied wealth value
is synergy
for relief from self-isolating mind sorrow,
said Now MindTime to Here BodySpace.
Transparent matters
of historic linear human progress belief
square-rooted in herstoric matriculture's transparent
vulnerable co-communing energy
invites co-gravitational trauma relief
from eco-political dissonating stress.
I love my prodigal self-infested son,
perhaps somewhat more than he yet has capacity
to love his wounded womb progenitor
speaking up and out
for restoring and restorying healthy
wealth of peace.
when on a lark, this primate shut his eyes
until sight formed slits doubling up as a wink
this earthling stared hard and scrunched brow
unintentionally mimicking,
the familiar Auguste Rodin statue
likened to a pose when one doth think
perhaps said captive pose pondering
(similar to me) about life on other planets
while I stared at lunar surface
akin to a disc or dime sized skating rink
awash with luminescence
and imaging himself whisked away
by an alien, synonymous
to the peculiar millions miles distant pastische
manifested entity than didst slink
a non hue man feline looking cat in the hat
comical creatures decked out entirely in pink
soft halos conjured up saintly mink
or...a far fetched thought suddenly
came to form in my mind,
that this har creature a found missing link
whose nocturnal glowing facade exploding charade
possibly a message
or motion nothing more
than routine smoothing out an anatomical kink
on front and back oh head resembling
a Doctor Zeus characterization,
viz a harmless rat fink
hm...maybe a vestigial progenitor
of former birth by Gaia now extinct
though from afar, the b52 shaped being
aye espied as fur ball affixed
with a long elephant like snout to drink
and appeared to lack occipital orbs,
yet evinced possible mode to see via a chink
impossible to restrain me noggin
appearing to nod and blink,
--------------------------------
hence entranced my attention fixed
from faint (perhaps a feint)
flickr ring meant as playful faux
role playing lunatic humorous acting wry
impossible to decode explicit antics
(of spacial cosmic guest),
no matter eyes nearly shut tight visual
wondering if non verbal communication
of mine correctly interpreted
meant to kibitz and vie
despite impossibility to validate,
a continuous effort yours truly did try
fixing thy gaze, nee straining
with alm aye might to esse spy
if cheap trick concocted entire visage,
which might not constitute life form
(admitting this chap to prevaricate,
and be full of baloney),
himself prone to confabulate
(dropped one to many times on the head)
when this rocky lunar image,
a moon scape comprising nothing
boot ham and cheese on rye.
I would offer an interior
and exterior landscaping contract
to facilitate multicultural designs
for restoring Mother Earth's ecotherapeutic justice,
within each and every ZeroZone of space
and HereNow time,
dear voiceless
and effluently timeless Yin,
But I doubt you will hear this as our optimal WinWin relationship,
given your current repressed lack of status
as Earth's polycultural peace and justice loser
in ZeroSum economies
of Yin must lose commitments to non-violent integrity
for my left brain dominant Yang to ego-win,
today
and for the foreseeable threatening
toxic future.
Hearing no positive deviant psychological response,
I would offer to facilitate your WinWin property healthing climate game,
but I doubt you would become ego-absorbed
in game integrity theories
or non-recursive absence
of reiterative excommunicating theses,
Although, perhaps we share a still small impassioned light
for compassion's ecstasies of experience
remembered from our dual dark nonsectarian space
EarthWomb's original matriarchal yin-flow environmental place
filled with integral nurturing strings
and streams of DNA umbilical wave-linear structures,
Strictures inviting phenomenally wealthy WinWin neural experience,
where left brain consciousness will eventually speak
compassion's right brain interdependent neural perception networks
ego/eco-lateral
bi-lateral Yang inhaling with Yin exhalation
as healthy ego predicts internal wealthy eco-climates
through ancient maternal therapeutic designing memories
of when Yin has progenitor been
more Yang universal out
multiculturally landscaped
than unitarian
polyculturally enriched within.
Each day an extension of my time
so each morning a risk and opportunity
to avoid greedy egocentrism
to step into harmonious eco-centered consciousness.
Each still-wombed entity extends Mother's incarnating time
so each maternal risk and opportunity,
each free will act of paternity,
aborts competitive egocentrism
by extending bipartisan consciousness,
wisdom's good faith fertility
for our co-operating future.
Each life extends time's enculturing memory
of secularizing risks
and sacred opportunities
avoiding evolution's monopolistic dead ends
by embracing revolution's polyculturing awareness.
Each moment incarnates maternity's wombed memory
of monoculturing risk and polypathic opportunity
to avoid deductive domination's severance
by mutually embracing
multi-paradigmatic synergy.
Time is a unitarian womb
and its omnipotence is universal!
Fathomlessly ubiquitous.
Like the double-binding revolutionary progenitor of all things.
Its smooth-structured boundaries resonating
prime relationship not-not tangles informing,
untying,
Its Earth tempered balance of enlightenment,
Its turmoil decomposing dissonant understories
Yet
like dark deep ecological flow
it sustains Earth's green/blue Commons.
I do not know whose holonic embryo
EarthTime fractally unfolds,
a 4-dimensional echo
of seasonal reincarnation
within bicameral communion.
O Singer of a chequered history,
Of brazen battlefields bleak, desolate,
Of life and liberties and tales hoary,
O of Song Celestial, ageless glory.
Thou hast outlived thy epochal story,
With dead heroes surviving still in state,
Frustrated for what happened, scarce sorry,
O Singer of legends of history.
One brother’s dharma and one’s archery,
One’s brute power, someone’s oath and bravery
That can’t be confined to an ancient date,
O thou that sang legends’ ageless glory.
Ye O bard two roles in one well carry:
Poet laureate, progenitor of fate,
Born of moment’s passion on boat-ferry,
O Singer of epic war’s history.
Ye sang thy song in such a swell flurry,
Even God of Letters so adequate
Had oft to ponder feeling nigh weary,
O Bard of an ancient ageless glory.
For mortal pens a task was it dreary—
To understand it well before pen it,
O Singer of a chequered history,
O Singer of ancient ageless glory.
___________________________________
Vyasa is the creator and one of the key characters of Mahabharata, world’s longest epic of hundred thousand verses (each a quatrain). While doing translation of this epic based on some 2000 verses in three volumes, I was fascinated by this character. This Villanelle addressed to him uses stanzas of four lines instead of the usual three.
Villanelle | 07.03.2022 |