Long Pyramids Poems
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It was in smudged oil pastel;
Soft to the glare and rough to the delicate brush of flesh.
In your eyes were the starry night skies that Van Gogh never let go.
But above all: your gait, your stride, your purposeful amble held the life I used to know.
His face moulded like clay;
And how I remember the faces he pulled,
That could even make Mona Lisa give us a smile.
Now that I see his profile set in stone I realise da Vinci can't ever resurrect a faint hint of the face I used to know.
It's just like he said - the melting clocks.
Dripping, gathering, forming into black pyramids of every thought he ever had.
I wonder whether a face saves the user of its past life;
Or is it like Picasso always said?
The portrait split into a million faces of every person who wore it.
One in chalk, one in charcoal and a luminous one blotted by a felt tip pen.
In every one of these is the face of you that passes in the streets and carves a river through my cheek.
I know only one of you exists in the portrait but I have to say, from far away, in a world that I cannot view,
I spied on you and swear I glimpsed the face of the man I used to know.
Skyscrapers of glass
and steel with spiky spires rise
over the brick houses
covered by their wide shadows.
The powerful amber sun
over the Equinox
makes them glisten
as if they were cathedrals
in which dwells
a pretentious god,
not the God I worship.
Compared to them
we are small ants crawling,
frightened by their metrical structures
that are more awesome than
the impressive Pyramids of Egypt
scorched by the intense heat.
If the deluded Babylonians
couldn't reach Heaven,
could we? Doesn't it still seem
a paradoxial concept?
Beyond the atmosphere,
there are many Heavens
once thought to be the dwelling
of the mythical and belligerent gods
who fought with the rebellious mortals.
Is our God in a similar place,
or does He dwell in each believer's heart?
Mine has no heaven, no mystical throne;
He is the only Omnipotent God
who reproves and chastens, but also loves.
Find yours not looking above,
but in the virtuous deeds you must do daily.
Written on 4/26/ 2016
MY
ego
without fear
in one's own shadow
the dark night of the soul
separated from the heart
"myself, higher self : egoism"
14/09/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Pyramids Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
2nd place in the contest
"The Vagabond life is the logical life to lead if one seeks the intimate knowledge of the world we are seeking." Richard Halliburton
The vagabond walked down my street.
He was a pleasure to meet.
He told me how far he had come,
And how he enjoyed living like a bum.
In Africa, he found where the Nile River began,
Located in a country called Sudan.
The vagabond found tall Pyramids to explore,
And the elephants and giraffes were hard to ignore.
Next, he moved on to Spain,
Where he found himself in a cool, refreshing rain.
He saw nudity on the beach,
And in Running of the Bulls, he was just out of reach!
Next on his list was Brazil, via boat.
In the Amazon River, he took a float.
The vagabond cheered and yelled at a game of football,
And danced the night away at the Rio Carnival.
Finally, he traveled through Mexico to the USA,
And that is where I met him today.
He said his travels are far from being done.
The vagabond will travel to each state just for fun!
Looking back I wonder how we got here
I remember life when
we couldn't get right
every other day was a struggle
communication between
us would crumble
but somehow here we are
It was bad, but we both knew
that it should've been
better than what it was
for some reason in those bad times
it seemed to be more hate than love
but something clicked in both of us
our spirits aligned like the
pyramids on earth & Mars
even in my darkest hour
you light up my world
like a shooting star
we both at a time were lost
a future together seemed far
from our minds
but I look back and see
time was on our side
our relationship was on a
operating table
consumed with misunderstanding
each other which produced stress
we watched it fade away
and fall into cardiac arrest
but somehow we revived it
brought our unconditional love
for each other back to life
stronger than ever
and now I can't even begin
to picture life without you
all those thoughts of doubt left too
we done what seemed to be impossible
at a point and time
where we almost
in a sense flat lined
when I look at you I see new beginnings
I submerged myself in your ocean
and I don't even wanna
think about resurfacing
this is happiness on a new level
we both deserve it
no matter how I word it
my actions will always speak louder
this is what true love should look like
we emulate black love
we illuminate like a black light
our strength epitomizes black power
Sun RA Rockets to Mars/Tony Adamo/2000
Sun Ra rockets to Mars/ landing with his Arkestra by way of his supersonic jazzhip ship/
The red dust be a flyin’ below his dancen’ feet/
The heliocentric world of Sun Ra comes to the red planet
Sun Ra is a true jazzophonic citizen and the first musician to probe deep space/
He is a high tech hitchhiker among the stars with knowledge of the heavens above taken from the Egyptian pyramids below/
SING BRIDGE
Get on board the Sun Ra space cruiser/
Get on board we’ll travel the space ways together/
Get on board for bebop, jazz and beyond/
Dig the flight with Sun Ra leading the way/
Message from Sun Ra calling from Saturn and the milky way/
Message from” sonny”/
I’ve long left my earthly ways at Delmark,ESP,Saturn and Black Saint records/
My free jazz spacealicous music can be heard in between the layers of cosmic space to the galactic beyond
I bring you the healing force of the universe/
Space is the place
Oh yeah man talkin bout Sun Ra
The first space cruiser to dig outer space
That cat was beyond heavy
We don’t even know if he was born on this planet earth
Sun-Ra the first space cruiser to dig outer space
The first galactic man
See that sun a shinnin’
Right in back of your face
Sun-Ra space is the place
Yeahh Sun Ra doin his thing now
That creazy kind of galactic tripped out music
Bumpin ya rollin ya
ad lib vamp out (sing)Space is the place
Words from Tony Adamo’s CD,Miles of Blu
When you live in the moment, and the awareness of it touches the skin,
there is a rush of joy. The vast space in which our consciousness roams, seeks
to fill it with experience. Past memories are relived over and over, to suffer
through some and to find lost love in others. Yet to be in the realm of presence,
is to understand better, the life of a sickly body, a delusional mind, and a jealous ego! This is when we have to be more than our everyday self. When time disappears and stillness abides. True, everyone struggles, when difficulties arise and faith is lost. Yet we engage this game. To explore the limits of time and space, and a life that ends in death! Our journey takes us to the places we need to go. In order to fulfill the destiny of who we really are, and not who others think we should be. This life of karmic design, must have it's reasons why. Life is an opera of joys and sorrows. We are to use the brain, yet follow the heart.
To let the balance even out, For the loss in the world, is equal to the gain. When all that are here born, upon this world of legend, have but one way out. The pyramids, they were built to last. They have passed well, the test of time, and with scratches on rocks, send us their ardent message, that love is all that matters, and that it is...the reason for living!
date-2/13/19
They say the virus does not exist. Why?
our leaders politicize its mortality
profiteers make it a minted and crispy business
rumour mongers carry myths of it across the Nile
and the poor are to isolate at home in the safety of hunger and taste!
Too many years of a distrustful polity from our cradle
as always, we heard of billions of a ransom given to the political virus
‘who’ kidnap our collective survival.
We heard from Mrs. Disaster of how billions were expended
on the vulnerable somewhere uncharted.
We heard the golly-governor said he spent billions when he shared
packs of noodles to the hungry as palliatives to survive on five months ago now.
We heard the markets jammed and streaming with viral sweats
of frantic buyers were once fumigated with millions of liquid cash.
We heard the spike in infection cases and deaths suddenly flattened out
after huge private and federal allocations in aids
We heard the country and people are broke and more billions of dollars
are borrowed. But where does the money go to?
We heard the rumours, theories, mythos…!
Majority of the poor and needy only hear but did not see;
for those who have more, more are given and stolen.
Those who have none, even the little they need are denied!
They mutate dead cells of social conscience patting the pauper
to go home and stay safe without a crumb of comfort, hope or bread.
We are tired of this sham of leadership and shame of distrust!
we saw food baskets kept on the threshold of the poor
we saw hungry people lined up for the goodies of charity and state kitchens
we saw the unemployed get insurance and compensation
we saw the government expend social funds and give subventions
we saw the leaders and businesses arouse social trust and hope
not taxes and profits when the people are already famished
we saw the hive of humanity, not the survival of the fittest
we saw a build up of philanthropy
not the building up of many pyramids…during a pandemic.
Nevertheless, these are realities in some other climes
which we are here still dreaming on!
Come and touch the mirror of my soul before I grow old; come and touch the mirror of my soul before the sun goes down and the evening gets cold.
I wake up this morning with nothing on my mind but the spirit of hope keep lagging behind, the sun is reflecting in the mirror but my heart is laden with sorrows. I tried to force a smile from time to time and send the dark energy back to the galaxy.
It feels like someone has just ripped out a piece of it and left the open wound to drip, I can feel my heart beating rapidly and the muscles in my chest contracting .If you look steadfast in the sky, you would have noticed that the heavens have died and the eclipsed moon is still circling around looking for the sun but the orbit is already done.
Come and touch the mirror of my soul and fill the vacuum with sweet songs and melody of old; wrap words of comfort around it and beckon the solitude that lives in the distance to hold my hand when you stand on the cliff in the golden sand. I will merge with the rainbow in the sky and I will compose a rhythm before I die. I will share it with the globe and make them examine the mirror of my soul.
I stand aloof on the pyramids of time waiting for the sun to burst through the clouds and warm the ice cold temperature around the globe. A strange phenomenon is brewing in the air causing the mountain goat to fear. Listen to the strange sound that it bleats, it is sending a message to the people in the street, it is an unusual sound that resonate from the deep and parachute through the mouth of the goat weeping on the mountain.
Look over there, something is coming towards me out of the belly of the sea, it is moving at a rapid speed with a fleet of boats moving quickly with it, they have pivot towards the shore, and it looks like something is about to break next door.
Look above the skies a school of bald eagle is crossing to the East while the cranes flying speedily towards the west neatly dressed in their Sunday best lands on the beach. The trees are dancing before me and the sun is moving in and out of the clouds.
Look into the mirrors of my soul and examine the part of me that is bold, you will find the answer and the clouds will tell you how to lift the heavy load.
Each day, a red sun arises from the emerald river,
In the acrobatic leap in the dark with watermelon smell.
In the evening, the pale moon it is dressed up in silver
By a dervish who changes it in a dome where he`ll dwell,
As prisoner of the unmovable being, just like Parmenides;
The moving sands of the desert covered old Coptic monasteries;
Between sky and sand, in old pajamas, the Sphinx and pyramids
Breathe with the slow motion of the camels in ancient reveries
About tears and saints in white tents with summer’s distillation left:
Koran’ effects unto communities’ lives with beauty were bereft.
Museums and parks-cemeteries and ritual prayers in bitter Cairo I meet:
Under One single eye, invisible stranger I rest, in the hot night’s street.