Long Reappear Poems
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A Rift in Time
By Elton Camp
Henry Higgins, B.A., M.A. Ph.D., graduate in physics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, is missing. Born August 8, 1950, he was thought of as a genius by some, but as a crackpot by others. Revolutionary theories on the possibility of time travel that he presented at scientific gatherings received a mixture of applause and ridicule. None of his articles have seen publication in peer-reviewed journals.
How his machine works is of a technical nature, thus certain to be of insignificant interest to the readers of this account. Suffice it to say that it works very well. Henry had seen his device disappear and reappear multiple times after being programmed to slide both forward and backward in time.
Finally came the day to test it in person. Surprisingly athletic for a man of his years, Henry strapped himself into place before the control panel, adjusted his eyeglasses and pulled a protective helmet over his thick, gray hair. He set the chronometer to early August of 2040 to determine if he was still living at that advanced age and what honors had been accorded him by the scientific community.
With a barely-discernable jerk, the time machine began its slide into the future, the red cancel button prominently alongside the digital display of the date. The world outside the device became a blur and Henry heard only a low hum from the engine. All seemed to be well as the years rolled by on the chronometer. At first, that is.
Henry noted with surprise the muscle atrophy and skin changes associated with extreme age. A slight looseness of his helmet caused him to discover that he was now as bald as his father had been in his late eighties. Henry’s eyeglasses no longer allowed him to read the control panel clearly. The truth hit him--he was aging along with the passing years. The inanimate time machine had shown no such effect, but it was different with a biological organism. He desperately punched the cancel button, realizing that, if his future self was not still living, his death was impending.
To his relief, the chronometer slowed and stopped. Without input from Henry, the time device began to move backward in time, slowly at first, and then at a brisk clip. By the time the read-out showed Henry’s present, his physical deterioration had been reversed and all was as before.
Get up and at ‘em be strong,
feeling I am reborn,
coming back and full on
like an atom bomb!
Expose their corruption
my life saw disruption
I’m putting right the wrong
from where I left off,
unsighted and lost,
but I’ve worked it now,
connect the dots,
going berserk (bloaw).
All I needed was understanding,
couldn’t tell, look potty and shot,
standing strong now, shouting all I’ve got.
Giving it back to cowards
for slander attack, you aint empowered,
and this ain’t back handers or slapped faces,
it’s baseball bats and collapsed in places,
metaphor, you fool,
I use words to tell all.
Remember me?
Obsessed with bringing me down,
made an enemy,
left me beaten on the ground,
it wasn’t the end of me,
by you my friend I’ll never be!!
You changed me and strained me,
left me mentally exhausted and drained,
controlling my reputation, like trolls,
shrinking opinions,
Satan spawn minions.
Strolling through life in the free,
silently proud of what you did to me,
living fearless, all clear,
wetting your pants when I reappear,
and I’ve no fear,
alive so all can hear,
survived to get here!!
I’ve so many angles to ring bells,
shake up made up minds in that hotel,
you contaminated them then, now they don’t care,
until one thought they have seems spare,
so they think back to yesteryear,
and suddenly link up as question marks appear,
as lost logic starts to become clear.
What I say will line up, ring alarms,
dislodge your corrupt,
I’m not out for physical harm or have you in a line up.
Telling my story, it’s written,
it’s just this,
come back biting poetic justice,
think I fight just fists,
I've wit and you're just twits.
Now I understand, I drop it move adjust flourish,
understand why I was discouraged,
putting truth on a perch, it ain’t perjury,
my story you got me personally.
and others won’t see the truth if they choose not,
but it’s there in view and now won’t move or be forgot,
so if people refuse they do as they do,
in time they may question clues and ask questions of you.
I’m done with it now anyway,
spoke and exposed,
my link to all this now disposed.
All I needed was to understand, now I do,
I’m a rose re-rose and roses grow,
with thorns that warn,
I’m done now, letting go.
And I’m feeling good too,
I’m living life, and I’m not you.
My hair is mostly white with streaks of black here and there
My white hair marks me as “aged” --- is that fair?
I don’t think or feel old (to which my body keeps disagreeing)
Just let me be who and what I am without age interfering
My opinions derive from education and experience
Each and all have been my deliverance:
Reading, listening, arguing, questioning,
Curiosity, studying, rejecting and accepting.
At 78 my brain functions minus dementia or senility
And if truth be told Men don’t have a monopoly
On Life’s options due to their relentlessly reiterated virility
Womanhood has Booked her place throughout the Ages
Profoundly and sometimes better than Manhood’s Pages
(Yet I’m thankful for Men being close-by anyway!
They’re the music, poetry, and humor in Life’s abundant Plays
So Diverse, yet hoarded and cherished as Life’s Bouquets).
All this irrelevant musing won’t get me anywhere
Let’s not digress but readdress the dilemma of my white hair
A naked cranium would be icy in cold winter weather
And if it won’t grow back going bald might not be vey clever
There is always dyeing, but only another temporary solution
Dye fades and white hair will reappear of its own volition
Yet I love a rich auburn, and the right blonde shade can flatter
Black is harsh, and Browns won’t suit so do not matter
Purples, greens, pinks or rainbow are not my cup of tea
Hair coloring options or choices I cannot dictate
Or expect others to like or dislike the same as me.
Dyeing my hair will habitually face budget restrictions
A loathed state of affairs that is an odious situation
Being poor demands tribute to that which is essential
Like mortgage, utilities, eating daily (oh, so beneficial!)
Thinking, looking back and reviewing bygone years
I recall highs, lows, regrets, laughter and shed tears
I’ve earned the right to show off this head of white hair
Without dyeing, lamenting, defending or worrying if it is fair.
Perhaps it is time at last to say “Thanks” for the generous gift
I was given to walk Life’s unique (at times) inhospitable Course
Having had my share of rewards, recognition, grief and remorse
I now salute my 78 years with Good Show! Hip, Hip! Here! Here!
Glad to Be and now at ease wearing that mantle of White Hair
That serves as my symbol to Endure, Survive and Persevere.
You got it in your head it’s okay to make up excuses
you’re only letting me down proving yourself to be useless
continuously lie until your lie is accepted
left feeling uncomfortable when your lie is rejected
every year on my birthday you do exactly the same
building up to it coming but on the day it’ll change
a last second situation will arise just the same
and you won’t be coming because you’re busy again
when really you’re selfish and fear honesty
making out that you’re helpless always lying to me
so I don’t invite you that way you cannot drop out
still you say you are coming and there isn’t a doubt
but then on the day the unseen comes about
expect me to waste time hearing lies out your mouth
even though I ain’t asked you and never I cared
you start telling me lies I thought I would be spared
it bothers I’m nonchalant to the story you’ve shared
like you need me believe you the reasons why you won’t be there
so you follow me around and keep repeating the lie
as I say I don’t care before saying goodbye
so you can get on with what you need to tonight
but you reappear many times through the night
when you’re supposed to be busy you appear in my sight
so you’re here to tell me why you cannot be here
and as it’s my birthday I’ve no desire to hear
but you’re annoyed at the effort that this lie is creating
I don’t seem to accept it as I say you are faking
insanity is when you expect a different result
but you carry on lying each time’s an insult
I’m in a club at this point you appear at the door
demand I come outside to hear you lying once more
but I don’t come quickly it’s my birthday I’m sure
when I go outside you’re angry at me to the core
because I took too long and it’s me you’re here for
I’m wasting your time as you say the same as before
all of your focus is on me believing your lie
until it’s achieved you can’t go home satisfied
and get stoned out your face the true reason that you lie
annoyed that I don’t believe you and that I never asked why
think you’re my best mate and can do what you like
making it clear you’re only selfish inside
treating me worthless as you repeatedly lie
but you weren’t invited and have harassed me all night
you only think about you I want you out of my life
So here it is
the passing of a day
this dull Spring day
and the silence pollutes my thoughts
while the depression dips poison into my oxygen
It's cold outside
fitting weather for how I feel inside
for I am lost
I don't know what happened
but well what did I expect
to be held in high regard
constantly being waited on hand and foot
But well what did I expect
myself to turn magician
and allow myself to reappear in her presence
so the love I spoke, promised would be real
No...I don't know what I expected
but I never thought in a matter of weeks
I'd print off my retraction
and realize the words I said
were only exaggeration
for I have no actions to back up what befell my lips
while yet a voice from her remains unheard
And it all has me wondering
what have I gotten myself into
It just all crossed my mind at one time
a jumble of broken sentences
like I'm learning how to talk all over again
My feelings they were true
and hers, they were too
but time gave way to a wound unnoticed
but time gave way to a wound that bled too deep
leaving a portal open to the past
and now I'm that boy of old
not a man anymore
Just a loser
just one more loser breathing poison oxygen
or so it seems only in my tainted head
Well what did I expect
happy ever after isn't listed in my job description
I'm just a fickle, feeble minded
insignificant little ant
better yet, a rotting piece of tree bark
deteriorating with time
Her delightful, delicate, portrait features
makes me so sad inside
a deep shadow of blue decorating the depths of the ocean
Ocean, a song sung by Cold
reminding me I will never get her back
Was she ever mine to begin with
Never...
no matter how much I want her to be
or do I
I don't know
I was so sure before
but I'm so full of doubt and weary
that her spell has subsided
and I cascade down a single thread
of my lowly spider web
but I'm not weaving lies
I'm weaving a message
that says I love you
but I don't expect to be answered
I don't expect comments
I don't expect for these words to make any sense
I just feel so low
It all just hit me at once
but this is just one thing I'll never tell her
I don't want her to think I'm pathetic
I don't want her to think of me differently
I...I don't know
I'm just...
Well did I expect...
People don’t think of you the way that you like
who do you think you’re conning when talking all that ite
blagging everybody you come into contact with
proud of the first opportunity to take advantage of gifts
boasting about your blagging skills as if you ain’t known as a blagger who can’t be trusted with anything always a late giver backer
when the first impression you make shifts to a shady replacement
to never reappear after that first meeting you’re different
and when debts ain’t paid you never blame yourself
you go and point incompetence at somebody else
so it’s never your fault and therefore cannot be helped
treating friends unfair
until there ain’t no one there
because you just don’t care
but in your stories you swear
that you’re selfless and prepared
to save everyone who is facing despair
after blaming the individual for their own fate
comparing the fact you made decisions that they ain’t
because you make the right choices and have superior vision
sounding authentic to those who don’t expect to hear fibbing
and when you big yourself up there’s also somebody digging
and though they helped you back up you forget that as you kick ‘em
saying you wanna help as you continue to hit ‘em
acting like it’s all their fault as you leak criticism
combined with a sad face to ensure the sympathy’s given
because you lost a mate
when they fell into this place
but last month they were fake
and it was too much to take
for now they’re nowhere to trace
as they avoid you with hate
as you remove yourself
from any involvement or blame
and act all confused
saying they must be insane
because to not like you
must mean they haven’t a brain
and then you emphasis this point
by saying they’re the slow train
who you have to help by shining
a light that explains
the simplest interactions
that they take the wrong way
in fact if you speak to your friend
they would be right as rain
as the fact they don’t like you
is their stupid mistake
The narcissist in you evident
cold twisted malevolent
suffering though you’re innocent
from someone far less intelligent
now confused by developments
believing things deemed irrelevant
a friend you’ll save cus you’re brilliant
despite the painful experience
When I look at you,
I pray that I don’t lose touch with you
When I look at you,
I prey upon happiness and I never knew
That you mentioned me in your dorm
When I look at you,
My mind wraps all around you
When I look at you,
You give me a natural high,
But it’s only temporary…
When you wake up,
I pray that you had the best of dreams
When you wake up,
I prey upon your energy and
Soar like an eagle in the sky
He watches over me as years pass me by
Our friendship is too good to be true
We’re so lucky to have each other…
Weep no more, for your name is carved in my heart
There shall be no more death…
Bitter, worthless clouds spill out remorse –
Depart and be gone!
I’m waiting to say “greetings” to you
I don’t have the strength to fight the battle
Endless thoughts spiral in my head
Making me feel awfully dead…
Many things are left a mystery for a purpose
When I look at you,
I pray that I don’t forget your name
When I look at you,
I prey upon your joy and I never knew
That you mentioned me in an optimistic way
When I look at you,
My mind is overflowing with delight
When I look at you,
You give me a natural high,
But it’s only temporary…
When you wake up,
I pray that you have the best breakfast
When you wake up,
I try to prey upon your glory,
But you swim away like a swan in a sparkling lake
I wanna give you good advice…
I don’t wanna roll the dice…
I don’t wanna be a living sacrifice
I wanna throw away all of your pain
I’m trying my best to reach the finish line
It’s hard to forgive the words you utter
It’s hard to forget and forgive yourself
For the wrongs you’ve committed
My mouth kept running like the sink water
And my mind went numb and you seemed to be bothered
Pick up the shards of glass and show me some direction
I don’t know where to go from here…
But, I must keep a positive mindset
I’m not attempting to get you upset
When I look at you,
I feel that I’m invisible
You see right through me
And I reflect anguish and confusion
Have mercy on me and don’t be frightened
Disappear, thoughts of sadness
Reappear, thoughts of gladness
When I look at you,
I see…a joyous, gorgeous face and
I sense that you’ll have a bright future
Just keep shining...with all of your might
God is near your side...leave behind all worry
Don't you know that you made me taste your glee?
“You try to be faithful
And sometimes you're cruel.
You are mine. Then, you leave.
Without you, I can't cope."
Rumi
in the kingdom of love,
nothing is simple,
not even musings,
so tell me:
in your annoyance
do you still think of me
or am i just another
common cliché
in Rumi's philosophies
for cosmic connections,
must we be a
contradiction of circumstance
when our story has been sung
beyond the reach of stars,
so despite the dystopian demons,
i keep hope in the invisible
golden harp strings,
yet to compose our swansong
oh mistress of medusa
in splitting seasons,
when serpents spit venom,
your British horizon soul,
coupled with your
climate change heart,
procreate porcelain patience,
where rhythms of rage
lead to breathless silence,
but i never forget you
it can be tiresome
battling against
ebony lashes from
metaphorical daggers
when vertigo eyes
hunt for their prey
and i wonder if i
was at shooting distance
would you pull the
trigger to rip my
heart like shredding
secretive documents
but despite bonfire breaths,
my samurai spirit has
become immune to
momentary flames,
adopting a mermaid mind,
finding sanctuary in
deep waters until
the last ember dies,
as at the end of each storm,
when rainbows reappear,
i resurface upon your
ivory shores,
for what am i,
but a sea urchin and
you the empress of the sea,
so each time you are cruel,
i wait for the return of
tender gestures,
as i know it is your
veil of vulnerability
you hide from the world,
but in the intricacies of conflict,
i am still the moonlight
glowing upon your ripples,
as i know the code to
your handcrafted heart,
floating in wandering waves,
as you still ignite intimate spiritual
sparks of soothing sensuality,
so never abandon me - forever
in the imperfections of love,
in my abundance of flaws
i know you adore me
internally and externally,
for we are refuge and
safe haven for the broken,
like a masterpiece of
alliterative adjectives
glowing like gems
in topaz textures upon
mookaite mosaics
I know I'm no
Leonardo Di Caprio,
I've never been as
romantic as Romeo,
so love me for
what I am today,
I am not your past
of wasted sunsets,
so ascend with me like
tomorrow's sunrise
At dusk, a brilliant western panorama
displayed off our seventh floor balcony.
Fluorescent colors, clouds of fuchsia, amber,
yummy yellow golden glazes across the sky.
So spectacularly spanning sentient space
a show of shows of unearthly grace.
Looming large clouds block the final moments
of light, tumultuous turmoils of my
little life reappear to slant the final view.
In contrast to my current mind of hope lost
for the future, the world closes in as I fell
into the despairing darkness of sleep that night
to awake in my dream to a gala porch party
on our balcony, attending was everyone,
my benefactors - Mark Twain, Martin Luther King,
Albert Einstein, Leonard Cohen, Rudyard Kipling,
Robert Frost, Maya Angelou and Dorothy Parker.
The "usuals" who would, could draw me close
but I'd have none of it, my mood morose.
Sullen, I waded disconsolate through the crowd
to the rail, reached in the basket I'd kept
for the long hemp escape rope, supple as a snake,
knotted it, put the loop around my neck
heart pounding, they gasped, chatter turned to fear.
Then a white dove flew under our canopy
and sat on Kipling's shoulder peacefully posing.
Clumsily confused, I climbed atop the railing
turned to look at the party - troubled, bereft,
speechless, said nothing, then jumped.
Oh the rushed flying feeling enthralling!
Soaring in the wind, all the while falling -
instantly, I was sorry it would all stop.
The dove descending on me caught my gaze
an iconic spiritual symbol that allured.
Through the dove's eyes I saw the party leaning,
a taut rope, a body swinging below.
Startled from dour slumber, back in my bed;
no breath, panting, panicked, tears trickling,
my wife up to hug me, save me from myself.
Shaken, I knew just exactly what to do
quickly to the balcony, opened the rope basket
to find all in place, then I noticed my hands,
palms bleeding, rope burned and raw,
pinned to my nightshirt was a piece of paper,
on it was this poem that I'd never written.
Bleary beyond belief, a surge force welled up,
a dove flies into the dawn sky bursting new light -
the otherness released finally from within.
I felt new found freedom from dream depths -
reborn, awake with renewed hope,
that memorable morning on the seventh floor.
Since my first sight of you;
Who were riding a white horse
Galloping around the forest,
I was just a simple controlled person picking up countable apples
Laying on the controlling ground.
Never feeling the slight soft winds touching my skin’s face,
Never feeling the warm sunshine of the spring,
Appear and reappear under the shadows of the trees.
All my hidden emotions;
Which I thought didn’t exist deep inside of me,
Appeared once I ride the white horse with you.
For the first time,
The old ugly forest seemed new and fresh,
And it still seems like that until now.
On your way down the cliff,
I stared on your tearing face,
Then I noticed: you were happy.
Even if I don’t want to admire it but you were happy.
And you are happy because you live inside of me.
If meeting you was climbing the mountains of my believes,
If it was finding hope in the deep dark,
And in much more easy explanation:
Finding freedom between your two warm arms and wide chest.
Finding me was; for only you,
Like finding the safest path
After testing almost all deferent dangerous other paths.
It was like to calm your anger after firing you spirit with almost all tested feelings.
And in much easy explanation:
Finding a controlled freedom in one single soul: me.
Now what I can remember is you getting further in the deep.
Your body was getting smaller and smaller as you fall.
If you departed on your own feet,
I could claimed your will made you leave,
Then I would be free from your heavy soul inside of me,
Living my life once again tied inside this controlling world
But, no
You departed because of the soil gravity,
It pulled you down as much as it could,
As strong as it could,
And as quick as it could.
Your body had disappeared now,
So deep in the edge of the cliff.
Your soul immediately flew and came near to me.
At that moment all my senses stopped to function.
I couldn’t see, hear, or feel my skin.
At a moment your soul controlled the whole of my body,
And the only face I recognized was your pall face
As you smile upon that white horse
Giving me your hand for that I may leave my prison.
And for some reasons, now;
I can no longer control my body,
Because; simply, you control it now.