Long Repeating Poems
Long Repeating Poems. Below are the most popular long Repeating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repeating poems by poem length and keyword.
As I conclude each day
and year
and life,
conclude that life with death
refers only to LeftBrain ego's Past toward Future
ionic-ironic languaged consciousness,
too often angry about life
and therefore fear-filled about an untimely
and clearly inappropriate
not to mention unfair,
death.
Earth's Time memory
is stored in natural-systemic DNA/RNA regenerative folding
and unfolding egoclocks,
sequence,
rhythmic function,
a recycling journey of time traveling identities,
memory strings transcending generations
by transposing across the eisegetical communications
of any one ego-identified entity
Learning to harmonize in
on
with
within
a too strident humanizing nature
trying to invite more resilient
humane kindness and justice
To gift EcoTribal nature with humane nature
as a blessing for Earth,
from Earth,
with Earth,
for Earth's Advent,
inclusive of all species
and all natural economies,
and all RNA/DNA cellular cultures
of universal co-arising intelligence.
When divine love
and win/win neurosystemic kindness say
"I have nothing but time with you"
fear and anger are also saying
"I regret not having enough time
for my own anthrocentric agenda
right now,
between past's neglected anger
and future-fear depression
anticipating further repression
of this integral body
authentic mind
moment."
EcoLove and Ego's Kindness
only speak with present-tense consciousness,
which is all remaining communication
when neither future nor past tensions
tyrannies
terrors
win/lose dominate preverbal anxiety
Post-traumatic tension
and trauma-informed intension
of ego's fear and anger experience
Anger about past leads toward further fear
about repeating
and repeating
ego's degenerative abuse
and neglect
in Earth healthy life future.
To dissipate fear,
we have evolved curious Adventure
to co-empathically embrace Anger's
non-violent communication
About not repeating a negative judgy,
too Left-brain dominant,
toxic nontrauma-informed past
mono-culturation
Perpetuating anthro-privilege
playing a Win-Lose political game
toward ego-centric political economies
disabling RightBrain ecological pilgrimage
to AdventTransition Ego Away
Toward further
LoseMind/LoseBody
cosmological
devolutionary
deadly conclusions
And not not cobinary
positive health
Win/Win revolutions.
Earth had offered Her eco-centric contract
of love and synergy,
awaiting ego's personal response each day,
each moment,
eager to optimize wealthy health care cooperations
of sacred grace.
Over an apparently inadequate lifetime
ego implied his competitive response:
I grow increasingly excited,
stimulated,
by this co-petitioning challenge
to frame our dissonance,
our operational riddles and puzzles,
games and illogistics
and dark strategies
Measured in statistical decomposition
of the odds for sustaining life
by perfecting hatred and fear
of death's dissociative decay.
I question Earth's right to positive resolution
and harmonic resonance,
as consonant co-governance
of enlightened ego empowering eco
to play win/win,
recreate without sin,
and co-passion nicely together
This co-petition against wasted anxious time
fully exercises my right of conscience,
to re-search 0-sum ego-partisanship
for absolute freedom from eco-dependence.
This co-petition asserts our human natural guild's unlovely preference
for contention over contentment
for sustained longing rather than resilient belonging
for uni-lateral freedom
rather than ego/eco bilateral interdependence.
EarthMother absorbed this richly contentious compost,
this dissembling over cooperative rights of assembly
and competition challenging associative eco-creation
as too inclusive recreation,
divisive of ego's omnipotent present place
in organic space
derived from eco's multisystemic functions
within history's healthiest seasons.
It seems to me,
said She,
Time has unfolded an eco-systemic co-tractive gift,
born of Her binomial grace
in bilaterally felt space,
a belonging response to mutually co-tribute with ego
gratitude for bicameral mutuality
and full freedom of co-scientific consciousness,
to conjoin time's eternal moment
of past personal ego
with future eco recentering life.
Post Scripted: "After all this time and space
repeating inhumane competitions and cooperative contractions,
deductive inducements to balance positive political space
with negative un-ecological economic time,
thank you for remembering why RightBrain felt eco-normics
gave birth to LeftBrain's verbal ego-petitions
in our first through last breathing moment
of win/win eco-operative identity."
Signed: Earth's Polypathic CoOperative Covenant
Saying stuff over and over makes you think a person didn't get it, but it's just that they didn't care to get it. You said all you could say, you wrote it in a letter, sent it in a text. You dial the number, they don't answer, you wait, still no answer. No call, no reply and yo dumb self sitting wondering why. Five minutes later, you call again. You are - Pete the Repeat.
Your mind starts to wonder, you don't know what to think, all you know is yo feelings are hurt. Now because you are not reassured, you become insecure. You finally communicate and immediately begin asking the same questions from before and saying the same thing in a different manner, and with no luck, you are left alone to figure it out.
You are - Pete the Repeat.
Six months later, you are still unsure, wondering and seeking to see something that is so clearly obvious to others, but blurry to you.
You are still asking the what, where, when and whys. What did I do? Where you been? When can I see you? Why you ain't call me back?
You are indeed - Pete the Repeat.
It's been five years, no solid relationships and none of your questions have been answered. You are still going through the same process with a different person, getting the same results. Aren't you tired of being - Pete the Repeat?
No matter what, all in all, you want this, you need this, you want to be loved. Yeah yall have great sex, but I am here to tell you, making love does not make one love. What you have is a ten percent love. And to you, that ten percent good outweighs the ninety percent bad. You deserve so much more. Why keep your standards so low? Why do you choose to settle especially when what you are settling for is not fulfilling? There is a hole, an emptiness, a void. You don't understand the process. You singing like a song bird repeating all the same words. Don't you know if you keep doing what you are doing, you'll keep getting what you are getting? You have a melt down, you shut down. The more you are thinking, you are deeply sinking. The whole situation of explaining becomes draining. But I am here to tell you, the answers you are looking for is not within someone else, it is within you.
It is time for change. You will need strength, patience, endurance and confidence. It will be hard and it will be different, but it will be worth it.
And the first change is to say good-bye to Pete.
ONE100eight
ONE100eight
CharlaXFabels
www.three
SUN TRAN history
Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool
August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved
they proclaim the war is over 1918
His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live
without a gun without a dread. She simply simpered she opened up her bag a
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse
The message simply said
we airmailed
every missle
that we have
to hit the enemy
the world is over now
do not try to do anything
just pray
we are all going to see
JESUS
NOW
TODAY
My phone died this week.
I’ve ordered a new one—
I’d like to say I’ve enjoyed the silence,
just lo-fi music playing, slipping into a flow state.
But I’d be lying.
Only a handful of friends to tell.
Enough to register
the tragedy of going off-grid
like it’s 1503—
where I imagine
I’d be decent
at throwing logs on a fire,
but useless at hunting.
No survival instinct.
I get sentimental when it gets quiet.
It's surprising
that this is how I finally understand
what Black Mirror really meant.
Slick glass, dark and dead,
reflecting back:
smeared rectangle
of myself
slack-jawed, staring.
Neither of us blinking—
only one of us
alive,
allegedly.
I’d had that phone
since before the pandemic.
It held more than my cache:
its shape, my memory—
my hand
aches
for its frictionless drag,
but I had to get a replacement.
I picked the same model,
not out of loyalty,
just me hoping
it would backfill the imprint
of its ancestor.
I'm not too proud
to admit
I miss the constancy,
companionship,
the fugue-state afternoons
given over to scrolling.
I’ve been more alone than I expected.
And lonelier still,
realizing
how much of me
was never here to begin with.
It's a disorienting false north,
this gatherlessness; I'm still sitting with it.
By the way, it's untrue news
that tech is soulless—
it's been up
at least one mortal ever since
my husband powered it on for me,
a gift,
ersatz affection
in response to a lack of discretion
he'd only recently admitted.
And get this: apparently, I cry now.
Despite half a life of spent
convincing myself
I’d therapized it out—
that tears were just poorly timed
girlish things I'd evicted
due to their silencing effect.
I was wrong,
they were only hiding in the attic—
turns out all this noise was just insulation
from every soft place.
Evenings with him feel longer.
He’s older, closer
to death than me. He’d hate that I said it.
I won’t tell him. We’ve learned
to steer clear of each other’s art.
No rules about who we kill
on the page.
Best to leave it that way.
I wonder if we'll go back to old habits.
I think I already know answer.
This screenless space hasn’t been clarifying—
just absence,
with no metaphor to cushion it.
At the risk of repeating myself,
I do know this:
I miss her, Distraction—
A Plandemic they are causing, to tear us apart!
A constant reminder, of their evil restart!
Repeating over and over, COVID 19,
Lying to us, with their Fake News Theme!
Internment and Fema camps to get rid
of us all! Look at the writing, it's on the wall!
Scaring all human beings.To get us all, to
take their Vaccine!
Mask wearing and social distancing are suppose
to stop the spread. Cases are going up, don't
believe what they have said!
Programming us for the "Dark, Dark, winter"
Joe said. Then infecting us with their Corona
Test!
You can't trust the politicians, they do as
they are told! They are all traitors, just so
you know!
Could you ever imagine schools would be closed?
When the recovery rate is 99.7, still they
impose.
Their fake Science doesn't add up, someone please
tell them to shut the H-LL up!
They are shutting down Businesses that's the plan.
Causing unemployment, and Worldwide depression,
through out the land!
They will say our cash carries the virus! A cashless
society causing a crisis!
They repeat to convince us of A New Normal. You and I
know it's bulls--t and Abnormal!
World domination, total control! Affecting everyone, the
young and the old!
Men and women have to endure, The false narrative of
finding a cure!
A Virtual future of working from home. No interaction,
just isolation, and working alone!
Support one another in these Treacherous times. Pray,
get close to God, don't lose your mind.
Go for a peaceful walk, meditate for a while. Spend time
with loved ones, enjoy their warm smiles.
We can think positive on our outlook on life. Don't let
the enemy, steal your God given rights.
Peace be with you, all of my friends. Trust in our Lord,
until the very end...
Be aware they are censoring free speech under the guise of Hate Speech. These Channels are constantly being taken down. The Powers that be don't want the TRUTH shared.... Remember Nurses will be crying for the patients they are loosing to Covid ploys to make it real, winning your sympathy. Many are being told their loved ones are dead from Covid another lie.
Their mission is to take the world over, collapsing economies, and killing millions.
Check out on YouTube A Call For An Uprising. Also Lost Arts Radio.
Please share with others and tell them to share, thank you...
rain. so cold. like small whips at my face swung by a man in a yellow coat too old and dirty to show sunlight anymore. waves attack the boat like a pack of wolves, darting, biting, gnawing, retreating, repeating. in the waves i see my reflection, a ghost, already drowned in that big blue leviathan. my body just floating in its depths, floating free and unchained. liberated from the deck beneath my feet, the comforting terrain of the beast we sail through these uncaring waters, the only thing to keep us from the depths below. the depths so deep no sunlight would go. depths so dark. so dark.
there are mountains down there, mountains and monsters and little rocks with little fish to call them homes. big rocks with big fish to call them little rocks. bigger fish to call the smaller big fish food, and monsters to call it all a playground, a training ground for the endless struggle of land and sea. the monsters will battle and kill and win and live to fight and kill to die and these wars between the krakens, the serpents, the behemoths and titans of the sea. they clash with such bloodlust and splendor that the blows carry to the surface and release tidal forces unseen.
diving. deeper and deeper, blue, purple, midnight black. soul crushing void surrounding, so open, so empty, so oppressing, so tight. i am flying, i see stars, i am a satellite through this expanse, my radar picks up nothing. blip. something. something close. blip blip. things. close things. curled in a ball i am an asteroid, hurling through this darkness, i want to escape. every direction is darker, there is no north, there is no up. there is no trail of soggy bread crumbs. there is no expanse. there is a chasm, the walls are close and cold. they cannot be seen, they cannot be felt. they just are. the longer i look out into that black the closer they get, and the smaller i make myself the smaller i must stay. if i stretch out a finger, an arm, a toe, i will collide with something, or something will collide with me. i will be sent off course, careening into the walls of this underwater canyon, forever bouncing from sharp stone to sharp stone, ever falling downwards. or upwards? there is no bottom. i do not know which way bottom is, there is no top. there is nowhere that i came from, there is nowhere that i go. i am just hurling through black, and the black is crushing.
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
I see you running up and down the street staring at me through your dark tinted mirror; I couldn’t see your face but I saw your hands moving about on the steering wheel as you mount that battered hill with curiosity and reality staring in your face.
I have subdued all feelings and continue to search of new meaning. I want to catapult up to sky and have some fun before I die. Are you going to mask your hands too with a gloves and a colored shoe?, What are you afraid of? The dress, the crown or the new frock? I saw you going up the hill with something that is smaller than you but you ride with a vision that is bigger than yourself.
The sun rises slowly over the hill and burst through myriads of grey clouds pouring out a warm friendly smile that sinks deep into my flesh. The morning sweat kept seeping through my pores soaking my clothes and dripping water all over the floor, it’s as if I have just ran a marathon ten times around the track clocking a faster time with all that I have got .
I can see you standing over there looking at me over here. Driving up and down on the street disrupting my heart beat. Why did you come here if you have nothing to fear, you kept hiding from me as if you are my destiny. I do not know for sure where this is going but I will journey with you to the end.
The big stage is rolling in and the streets are busy with fine merchandise from home and abroad, trucks are lined up at the corner and the streets shoppers and vendors are walking around trying to get the early morning sales.
The actors are repeating their lines and dancers from all over the world are rehearsing for the big event. A hundred and ten bands are on the track and the jazz performers are waiting at the back.
Big trucks parked up on the business street with millions of dollars of catered food stuff; chef, waiters and waitress are running about clearing the trucks and unpacking the stuff, it is going to be a big bang with coronation bells flying all over the land.
See them dressed up over there in fine costume and carnivals boots, their painted lips and exquisite attire set the whole world on fire, the music is playing in the background and everyone is gathering around
Come to where I live and I will show you something astounding, the streets are packed and the birds are flying in the air and the message is quite clear.
~Survive~
I want to tell you a story about a lady I knew
And some things in life she had to go through
Trying to survive in a world that can be cold
So I’m making sure that her Journey is told
As a child she grew up in a broken home
Spending most her youth feeling so alone
As a young teen she was sexually abused
Leaving her physically and mentally confused
Then she married a man at a very early age
From a different country so her mom was enraged
But they were in love so she didn’t really care
Not knowing in time this would be her nightmare
There were 3 children born into this family
They looked normal as far as the eye could see
Yet her husband began to constantly drink
Until his mind could no longer reasonably think
This became a daily ordeal that kept repeating
Then she eventually discovered he was cheating
But the alcohol made him show no remorse
So before long they separated and got a divorce
Soon her kids grew up and the grandchildren came
And it made her happy grandma was her new name
But at times her past made her depressed and sad
So some days were good and some days were bad
Then there came a day that I won’t ever forget
When a disease called cancer gave her a hard hit
She lost her job and everything that she owned
And her body felt like it was pummeled and stoned
Less than a year of this fight had taken its toll
But a light began shining from within her soul
For she found the strength of completely knowing
When this battle was over where she was going
Now all wars finally end and Shirley passed away
But lessons she gave us live in our hearts yet today
So I pass on this message she eternally planted
Be grateful for this life we each have been granted
************************************
My Mother-In-Law Shirley Cordova lost her battle with Cancer 6 years ago today on Nov 4, 2004. As I thought about her this morning, it really hit me just how much that woman helped us over the years she was still alive.
This is a poem I’d wrote dedicated to her memory. It is her life story and is included in my 8th book of poetry The Journey~Following Maps to Evermore.
She didn’t have an easy life yet fought for each precious breath until the last.
Shirley, We Love and Miss Ya BUT we also know you still visit us sometimes.
So I wanted to Thank You For Simply Being YOU- Jimmy