Long Sphinx Poems
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It's the year 2112, a number that appeals to me
A century has passed at what my ancestors seen, why did generations not foresee
They had reached their twilight zone, earths grand finale
The Mayan calender had spoken in silence, as the human count tallied
Their scriptures foretold of a horror, a world in slow demise
They told of future troubles, where borders would be compromised
The seas would rise and flood the lands whilst the rains continued to fall
Starvation abounds while the rich remained in bloodied torn appal
Stench filled bodies of water, carried floating bloated masses
No care for who you lay beside, for death decrees no classes
By the year 2030, the earths population was decimated
Even the rich were thinned for the weak were underrated
If I may welcome you to my world, where cities remain so few
Metropolitan they have become, and somehow we have become so true
The place where I now reside has built icons from the past
Twin towers are now the norm, new memories that will always last
The waters never totally receded for it rained for so many years
Some people blamed the dying as they were told it was their tears
Many of us live in the clouds so close we can touch the sky
As we await the next revelation that will finally close our eyes
New stories have originated in Cairo, where archaeologists have uncovered
A doorway below the Sphinx, telling of how the human race was discovered
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-17.php
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
the day of most light in a year
marks victory of light over dark
for an enlightenment so dear
to a spiritual gateway we embark
spiritual celebrations of the sun
are remarkable common wisdom
for all times and cultural evolutions
reflecting life’s universal algorithm
ancient tales of a savior, a divine son
of a virgin mother and mystery father
tell us of betrayal before resurrection
and hinge on the solar celestial harbor
rituals venerate summer solstice since olden times
at the Great Pyramids in Egypt Sphinx is crowned
Druids mark union of earth and heaven in chimes
guarding sacred fire at Vestalia festival is renowned
Date: 2.6.2016
At long last... Beatle browed
Beastie Boys attained Nirvana
routing hellish existential crisis
courtesy Earth, Wind And Fire
rendered null and void celibate Journey
knight in shining armor
forever staind and tarnished
compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.
Herewith I forthwith take poetic license
linkedin to long line
of Mamas and the Papas
whose music died
when Passenger(s) violently perished
courtesy flaming inferno
analogous to Le(a)d Zeppelin 129
christened Hindenburg.
Along similar blurred lines
foo fighter manned stoned temple pilot
Jefferson Airplane qua Starship
gracefully and slickly
deliberately maneuvered sic
Crash Test Dummies
immediately annihilated upon impact
smack dab into Puddle Of Mudd,
yet lo and behold as a Foreigner
and Survivor yours truly eluded Dire Straits.
Oz suppose during whirlwind Kansas tour,
while snatching forty winks
in toto working out Kinks,
I experienced revelation
regarding divine creator - Egypt me
never securing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
elusive weltanschauung as understanding,
the mysterious Sphinx,
yes essentially zilch joie de vivre
minus high jinks
aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks
my life and hard times
whereby vitriol pelted me
courtesy those rat finks.
Nihilistic zeitgeist
apocalyptic outlook sacrificed
no redemption no matter
how figuratively purposelessness sliced
unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.
Sphinx applied for a job at Duel Tool Instrument Manufacturing.
During his first days he was assigned four breaks and lunch at
Noon which lasted for 45 minutes.His work days would be four
days a week with $21.00 an hour. The company is opened seven
days a week Eight hour shifts could be divided by seven or four
Days straight with the company having the option of calling him
In for overtime which could be no more than five hour shifts with
A company dinner plan on weekends.The dinner plan would reduce
His pay by 12%.
Seven weeks into his beginning the company asked him to take his
Lunch at 11:00.They used a camera to monitor the lunch room.
At the end of the first week the manager returned him to the noon
Lunch schedule He noticed his portion size was reduced and the company
asked him to take less time for lunch and gave him a fifteen minutes break
To compensate the time. This is called a what?
A. Pain in the a$s shedule
B. A monitored mangament shedule
C. A Notified shedule
D. A camera monitored shedule.
That Bouis can sing ya'll type of deal
WHEN THE WInD BLEW THROUGH THE HOLLOW REEDS
written by: Pannus Sphinx
native to regions of habitual areas the Brya ebenus tree is
best suited for flutes, english flutes one would say
the bassoon is created from this type of tree
planks from the boards of the black maple tree
can also be used with resin to produce
beautiful instruments and marvelous creations
along with the sugar maple these trees are fashioned to
impress sound and longevity were it the best choose
to craft a musician's dream instrument
density and hardness the black locust is a suitable alternative
to the traditional rosewood the has been historical used
to make instrument bows and xylophone bars
Due to the lackof finacail security the 61 members of the group were visiblly sad. They thought they could afford 40 bassoons from there tresuery: but were only actaully able to afford 27 due to the outragous cost of these custom made tresures. They were able to smile when the artisain send bows and xlophones peices free for the amount the Orcastra had purchased. They referred to the instruments as clownish flutes.The deep tones were nearing exotic, giving the directer of the event cause to limit the amount of peoplke able to attend the Board meeting due to cost. Catered the affair over-ran the budgeted allocations from the tresury. This made the couples in the Orchastra smile: but those who wanted to vacate along with there musical mates had to pay the addition cost due to the budgeted restictions. Leaving sound soured by the whole affair.
The performance was expected to be ledgendary to the benifet of the audeince. Velvety smooth and soothing. Purple and creamed colors were the chose of colors for the event. Catered by a world famous chef. the audeince only knew the the results of practice: but back stage professionals shined doing what they did best!
The shelac still smelled fuming the backstage area.
The sphinx holds secrets,
meant to remain secret.
Ancient secrets, alchemy,
are not meant for uneducated minds.
Those ignorant of this ancient lifestyle,
must never know the secrets.
Modern minds are incapable of controlling,
modern technology;
ignorance and overconfidence,
can destroy universes;
such has been, too many times before.
Past civilizations,
on the road to techno-marvels,
self-destructed;
Atlantis, Mu, Lemuria, are among them…
cowering beneath Neptune’s waters.
Tthe human species,
pursues destruction,
more than anything else.
Sphinx is wise, to protect her vault.
When the species,
collectively realizes it’s own failings,
Sphinx will divulge the combination,
to unlock her vault.
She walks
She stalks the pyramid
With shell fish underfoot
Drawing lime into her creases
And all because
She given can
To step to climb
In single numbers
Until the penny drops
And everything and nothing stops
Paving way for yesterday
To start under the sphinx gaze
Begotten by the setting nile
Masked in solid sunshine gold
Screaming afterlife i am dedicated
mummy salt
Awaiting Orions call to intern
To sisterhood multiple of three
Adjacent little and offset
Built upon a desert burn
Your secret kept
With little clues to follow
Yet still we do
As star's are you and so are we
Purveyor of the celestial math
equation
A single number forging path
in all but name
Until we cross the great divide
And dust and star's we return and
then become
For the remainder of eternity
Auto-da-fé at Plaza Major
Sixteen-Eighty was brutal on saints and their hissing cats.
A turgid June, thickened as it was by an immature sanguinary wine
that failed to quench the civil mob.
Above the birthday cake façade, the pink and cerise porticoes,
the heavenly-frocked casements, the stucco -
a tiered sibilance rises where the throng in a sportive sweat,
begets its feverish desires.
The accused stand center-stage, as hairless as Sphinx
garnished with sheen's of fear.
Some contemplate the ornate state of their theatrical ruin.
Some already lash their minds behind unfocused eyes.
That was then; I see all this through a blood spattered prism,
the square still seeps
through a crimson varnish of time.
Evening now flaps a checkered flag.
The plaza is now a pitch for celebrating revelers.
Real Madrid fans have surged out of the barra.
Soccer balls are dribbled over cobbles.
I imagine my hapless head plunging in and out
of the heedless crowd. I am their sport,
a candidate for a mocking inquisition perhaps?
Meanwhile, the cats stare patiently,
squeezed as they are into strips of sunset,
a pink Iberian tongue of light that streaks the floodlit scene.
This place could be a plaza for jubilation, were it not
for the sotto voce hissing of these time-stretched
unforgiving shadows above us.
In the morning I sit
remembering Longchenpa's advice
to observe thoughts with awareness
like an old man, basking in the sun,
watching children play.
And it's easy to effortlessly sit like this
without a care in the world.
Pema sits as well,
facing me sphinx-like, soft and warm
and eventually I turn my attention to him
to watch as thoughts and sensations play across his face.
He is his own old man, like me, each with our own minds at play.
His simple, being a dog,
but with a complexity and subtlety
that defies imagination.
Eventually our eyes meet and like dancers
we read and match each other’s inner moves.
Intently he watches
the way other dogs might hunt a squirrel in the trees,
and I see I have been his only master
so that now I am the Sun he orbits
while he, the son I never had.
In the morning we sit together
an odd couple, two old men, father and son,
our souls dancing
until it is time to get up.
And in an instant
I can see that for Pema
it has all been an exercise in patience
simply waiting to take a walk.
(from my fifth book of poems, EXTRACTING THE ESSENCE, 2021)