Long Reasonably Poems
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Grant Olmstead
1868 – 1899
Just once.
Just one single sublime moment of love
Is all I ever desired.
All I ever reasonably wanted in life!
Was I not a man with a river of passion
Raging through me, raging with rushing torrents
Rushing madly through the deepest gorges
Of my manly soul?
Was I not a human being with gazing probing eyes
Cursed with blinding sight,
Cursed with confounding appetites for flesh
And incredible intimacies in the dark,
Intimacies even the gods of Olympus had access to
Tons of minutes ago?
And so I ask: What good is a windmill without the wind?
What good is a man’s tongue without words to utter
Words of deep intense longings
To the faces of patient pulchritude?
What good are a man’s prayers to a dead god
In an empty universe?
Now I’m here in Clark Cemetery,
Still thirsting for one woman’s touch,
One woman’s thrilling embrace!
Instead, I am tasting the kisses of a thousand worms
Here in the sheets of my bed of death.
Amen to lost love!
*Abiku's Era*
Come up here
Let's talk reasonably
The earth is the lord's
And all in it is vanity
Look at me deeply
To see the cries in my bones
Daily do I weep
My cries escalate so high
This journey is getting deep
The more you look, you see less
Of what importance is assassination cross
That can not heal a bite
From snakes
Rendering most orphans
And childless
Yet, we tried God heal
Putting the good one
On a spot for their misdemeanours
His ways are perfect and
Without blemish
Save our soul
A minor headache
Being treated as malaria
Stomach ache
Being treated as an ulcer
Save our soul
The practitioner is not around
While the midwives
Are watching films
Yet a patient is dazzling
In the mystery of safety
Please save our soul
All accident victims
Shall be attended to
While their blood-suckling gut
Needs more blood for sacrifice
They require a police report
From a dying victim
Save our soul
Who have we sinned
To have treated us this badly
Those that should make us healthy
Migrate abroad for pasture
While the assassins are left
To prey on us
Save our soul
No one to report to
They are bones within our neck
No official makes any patronage
For them to know our plights
Yet law is not dead
And the rule of law is not in a coma
We need a saviour
Lest we are back to the Abikun's era.
©?Olorunleke Olorode
Circa April 17th, 2120, or 1820 military time,
yours truly attempted crafting id est feeble rhyme
far from madding crowd, nevertheless yet lovely
bones and flesh quite spry, still considered prime
(moost procreative, prodigious, and progressive)
stage, since (case ye didn't know) approximately
eight score orbitz round Earth's sun still noontime
chronologically analogous to protracted lunchtime
whereat the average offspring jetson or (daughter)
Born twenty years into twenty second century alive
and well (still hashtagged as precocious) with drive
to safely, sidestep, and surmount establishmentarian
archaic, formulaic, and mosaic Judaic/Christian give
wry master of words (me) take poetic license to jive
reasonably rhyming nope heart tickle early misthrive
moost definitely dirty deeds done dirt cheap (trick)
super tramping space cowboy lobbing power-drive
re: frequently innocent prelapsarian double entendre
(Jean Jacques Rousseau) Noble Savage he doth strive
even though hanky panky tinged entire his/her story,
Homo sapiens animal husbandry hastily did wive.
Dear, Attorney Ambrose
What Caroline has been forced to indure has at the very least been detrimental to her brain development?
Her frontal lobes being at best seventy five percent if that developed.
Having been since I've been gone,
has caused her to be emotionally abused that has produced either heightened or prolonged activation of the stress system that will result in her later-life behavior.
And the bogus attempt to mollify me, based on my own abused experiences, leaves me with that sour taste,
the taste of disgust that one knows when being told to achieve an out come, that you already know.
Psychological expert's are now more sure than ever as to how these early-life experiences change the brain,
any reasonably intelligent person now knows
that the brain responds by changing its structure, gene expression, and function.
And to dismiss this reasonable argument should prohibit anyone who thinks else wise, from having
or playing a role in my daughters still developing mind.
Would you not agree?
How do we help a traumatized child recover?
There is no magical insight about an individual untrained in child abuse and their future behavior as was just recently tried in court by untrained D.C.F. worker's opining as to why Caroline was Baker acted.
Or that Caroline could understand the ramifications of her actions,
other than to find a way to extradite her self from that her group home surrounding's.
Where self reporting as you suggested, would in the future find her.
Right?
Instead, heightened caregiving and therapy involving social behavior is now the key.
Unfortunately all have for year's have known that Karen has never possessed the where with all
to change her self destructive behavior.
Attorney Ambrose, we are all social creatures, and our social interactions in early life design the brain to greatly influence the person that we will one day become.
Please Respond!
Sincerely,
James McLain
When I choose individual regenerative health
I may be reasonably influenced
by potential for economic wealth
as compared to trauma
of individuating degenerative depletion,
absence of resilient well-being,
resonant win/win swelling wellness.
Sometimes more easily missed
is my ego's individual personal swelling cancer
premised beyond Earth's cooperatively communing resources
Beyond democratic globally inclusive political wealth
of ecologically polyculturing relationships
More prominently powerful,
enlightening wise
indigenous nature/spirit nondualism
of health empowering
Ego/EcoSystemic
copassionate communications,
Of sacredly musing amusicalling communities,
green new through ancient blue
universally regenerative synergy systems
optimizing my wealthiest possible
win/win ecopolitical health.
If you were a Christian
during various Inquisitions
and pogroms against Jewish communities
and aboriginal tribes,
If you had been a Christian slave owner
trading lack of co-empathic love
for your zealous theoretical salvation agenda,
Would a faithful Moslem or Jewish witness
reasonably assume
your being Christian
also means you are a proud and loyal member
of a terrorist cult for hate and death
of other cultures
other Earth pilgrims
with diverse experiences and beliefs?
Would nonChristians reasonably express concern
about your commitment to strong family values
and sacred scriptural hospitality?
Have concerns about your healthy capacity
for Wonder and Awe
confronted by vast diversity
of lilies in fields
trees in forests
fish in seas.
And, if you personally believed in an omnipotent God
of and for multicultural Peace on Earth,
as in Heaven,
then you would not choose to remain
a terrorist,
a monoculturing
supremacist
SuperElite Christian
entitled to declare international Inquisitions
for crimes against WinLose Capital Worship
as you and your personal tyrannical idols
assume to be pathological-power appropriate,
sufficient,
efficient for colonizing the hopeless
nature/spirit
Here/Now
secular/sacred aliens
And ego-supremely harvesting diversely commodified lilies,
and trees
and fish
to extinction of Earth's multiculturally graced health.
If you were a Jesus follower,
would you aspire to any less than
a dual vocation?
Ecologist
inviting all Earth's forests and oceans and desert habitats
and theologist
witnessing all Earth's humane-divine cooperative spirits
Wasp nest under construction...
vacancies for yellow jackets also available
alternately titled: eave'n roofs houses nidus
If ye dear reader find yourself
as an under appreciated
busy buddy buzzfeeding bee -
hive got just the solution.
When me and the misses
entered side door here
yesterday September 26th, 2021
where both of us live
within one bedroom unit
at Highland Manor Apartments,
we espied hexagon-shaped paper cells
constituting partially completed
reasonably priced
state of the art abode.
Nevertheless, these
myopic eyes of mine
identified when closeup
tiny sign advertising real estate
large enough to house me,
an average size bugaboo.
Yours truly itching to move
to cozier quarters
no matter facilities roofless
imposing long overdue necessity
to strip down trappings
to bare minimum.
Tricked out with state of the art wizardry
microscopic computer processing chips
adorn six identical geometric sides
indeed allowing, enabling and providing
global linkedin telecommunications
beamed in across
bajillion miles from deep space.
All kidding aside
Hymenoptera quite the builder
with innate abilities as their guide
neither prejudice, nor afflicted with pride.
Ever mindful of insects with diaphanous wings,
yours truly quite aware of pain regarding bee stings,
which commentary brings
me to recall the following incident when
quite so many years ago...
When we come to the point in Life where the number of days behind us far out-number the reasonably expected days ahead, then the wisdom we’ve accrued should be useful to others who follow. One of the challenges will be in finding the tools through which to impart and relay what we’ve learned, in some useful array. One possible avenue is: Rhyming poetry.
We who are in the process of counting those remaining days don’t have all the answers, to be sure, but we may have one or two which might “pave over” some rough spots for others – which we, years before, passed across.
No man stands alone, neither as an island nor an all-knowing wizard. It is our duty, simply because we at one time drew breath, to put as many stones in the roadway mankind has continued to construct, as is our ability to do. No payment or recompense is sought or expected. Rewards come at the very end of each individual journey: Someone else may use the roadway we helped, in some small, humbling part, to construct.
DISVIRGINED TRUTH
We don’t have enough time left to check time
Many left as too much couldn’t get enough
Stranded in the middle of no where with no dime
The lord will provide; yet, journey still too tough
This is a historical case we all presumed
Based on facts fore-known; this is presumptive
Reasonably not the worst we all assumed
Mission not accomplished became abortive.
On air, same plane, different pilots
On a coming together, different cohorts
Our problems too enormous, might capsize us
Engulfed in cloudy flames, critics criticize us
Sin is fun, fun is sin; poison tasting so sweet
Let the apostles wash their heads, Jesus will wash their feet
Time to leave the multitude and reach the altitude
Time to ignore our oppositions and maintain our positions.
Many prophets, same quest, different prophesies
Ambition is priceless, same quest, different emphases
We are here for destiny sake, one mission
Starting to keep moving, confused vision
Time to focus and get it
Our ‘F’ is for forget it
Kiss it and stuck your tongue
Even we are wrong.
...LORDVIP...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If I held the power of speech,
silence is never
The silent ones,
those unable to speak,
beheld
the stunning gifts
that tenderly enlighten souls
morsels for the eyes to feast
to belay absence
A blue jay finds them
and stares at their minus
and reasonably
the blue jay vamooses to airs
A multitude of lost butterflies
congregate near
a waterfall
as their wings speak
true tell-tales
their life's stories whole
in intricate fragments
Deaf study them comely
in the show of shows
fluttering wings
cascading downward equally
number of living butterflies
and of living waters
Smile upon smile
all host hushed
turns to grins
muted afoot in a mud pond
is nature's cakewalk
Statuettes of papyrus
kissing the watery banks
with their papered lips
unto their accounts of a
special day
as each bow with its crested crown
A trail of fallen stars
barren their soles to aglow
springs blindly glamor
as a jealous chord sound
awaken the northern light show
displays of awe
... as body taps buddies
a form of talk
by voiceless ...