Long Terrors Poems
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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.
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
Afraid of the dark,I am you see,
For when I was little someone raped me.
Those fears and terrors still fill my heart,
afraid my mind is being torn apart.
I cannot see when all is dark black,
who is this with me,caught in the sack?
Please leave me be,do me no more harm,
it's been years and still there are tears.
All of my nights I run and I hide.
Deep in my mind a safe place to be,
no one can touch me,no one you see.
Not even life's worst misery.
I must keep running,it must not end,
must keep going,don't let it blend.
Eye's of tears,heart and mind full of fears,
It's been painful to many years.
My innocence stolen,
my joy taken away,
Please help me Lord,
Please help me I pray!
I am safe with my loved ones,
under the moon,because of God's son.
Still unaware of peace in my bed,
I feel afraid,the night I dread.
Hands tremble,body curled up,
mind is racing super speed,
I want to be loved,I feel the need!
Please don't hurt me like those nasty men did,
I hated them,God willing,he they will rid!
No place to turn,no place to run,
hiding and fighting,i'm only one.
Such wretched memories still haunt me each day,
please go away,
never to stay in a sane mind,
I need to relax,need to unwind.
Nobody knows the horror I've lived,
don't understand?
Tell me what gives?
I feel alone in my own world small,
like curling up into a small ball.
Somebody help me,
I can't do it alone.
I'm tired of running from all my fears,
tired of pain,tired of tears.
Tired of dying inside,through out the years.
Help me to live in a new way,
to live for tomorrow,and also today.
Help bring peace back into my mind,
Please help me ,please be kind.
But who do I turn to,who do I trust?
I've been hurt by many!
Is there anyone,not one,not any?
I'm alone in my world of fear,
don't get to close,you may shed a tear.
Get to know me and all of my pain,
no wonder i'm mental,a little insane.
To much to lose,and much more to gain.
In a world full of pain and sorrow,
I can only hope and pray for tomorrow.
My dreams are real,it happened again,and once more,
please make it stop,,
I can't handle no more!
Dreams remind me every day,
somewhere,somehow,
theres got to be a way,
for peace of mind and a better day.
Please,please,I beg and I pray.
Dedicated to all those who have ever been a victim like me,
Have faith,God will make a way!
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse:
The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were
killed.
The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860.
To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!”
The Ill-Fated Lighthouse
The towering light that threw
Its friendly beams afar
Over the foaming waves,
The sailor’s guiding star,
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms
Where late it bless’d his sight,
As homeward bound he came
In the dark hour of night.
The thundering surges swept
Over the rocky bed,
From which the lighthouse rear’d
Aloft its flaming head.
And lo! They bore away
In that mad fearful hour,
The work that man had made –
The tempest’s rightful dower
And yet a richer freight
The heaving billows bore,
Than wreck of perished Light!
For tossing to the shore
The drench’d and lifeless forms
Of youthful dead there were,
Two brave and manly hearts
That sadly perish’d there!
Farewell ye faithful ones!
Your memory shall live,
While feeling hearts remain,
Pity’s sweet drops to give,
Or any to recount
The terrors of that night,
When the drear sea engulf’d
The hapless beacon light.
And you, ye rushing waves!
Sweep – foaming, sweep along,
And ever as ye go,
Lift high your noisy song;
For thou, remorseless sea!
Maketh all things thine own!
Then send aloft your tune,
And madly thunder on.
While walking my dog in a field one day,
a massive black bull appeared in the way.
It snorted and grunted and pawed at the ground,
I could tell by its face that I couldn’t walk round.
Now here was a problem, I had to think quick,
although in my stomach I really felt sick.
To run, or to stand there and mirror it’s stare,
the steam from its nostrils showed ‘it’ didn’t care.
Well in for a penny and in for a pound,
I ran at the beast as it stamped at the ground.
Screaming with terror, I must have been thick,
and me only armed with a very small stick.
The look on its face as it snorted with rage
turned from pure anger to one of amaze.
It turned and it trotted right out of my sight,
while I started shaking with all of my might.
My dog, then no coward, took up the chase,
and barked at the bull as it left in disgrace,
while I caught my breath and wondered just why,
I hadn’t been gored and tossed high in the sky.
This story is fiction, I’d tell you no ‘bull’,
but in my young days all the girls it helped pull.
When I meet trouble I face it head on,
though some say it’s easier to carry a gun.
The gun that I carried was my silver tongue,
though now that I think, all the girls liked that long,
but back to the story, that ‘nearly’ is true,
this tells of those problems you cannot work through.
There’s been times in life with no way around,
and truthfully this is what I have found.
Don’t stand there and take it, be sure you bite back,
even when screaming, just narrow the gap.
If you leave some space to let troubles take hold
and never take action, but let yourself fold,
then you’ll carry them with you for all of your days,
they only get worse and determine your ways.
So what if you’re frightened, or maybe get hurt,
face up to life’s terrors in one sudden spurt.
Grab the damn problem by scruff of the neck,
what is there to lose, when your down on the deck?
Then just like my bull, if you meet it head on,
you may find it’s not real, but it ruining your fun.
The problem’s invented by ‘me’, I have found,
are the ones that are hardest for me to get round.
So real or imagined don’t stand there and stare,
just run at them screaming and don’t give a care.
If they disappear, you make shake for a while,
but even if ‘tossed’ you may rise with a smile.
Ivor G Davies
The flood waters had drawn back
Land made its debut
The past gone and over
With nothing but hope in view
Hard work and labor ahead
Building and creating...what
Grown minds can't forget experience
No matter how one sought
...to begin again
After a time of planting and pruning
Harvest came in fullness of glory
Lending God's blessing
To the legendary story
Funny how a flood can wash away life
But not bring one to self control
The father "god" released himself
To the lusts of his consuming soul
...in celebration of humanity
What did Cush know before
That seeped under the skin to once again
Reveal the nakedness of humanity
And the sepulcher of sin
Had LOVE been present with Noah
His response could not have been a curse
Forgiveness and compassion
Would have covered even the worst
....desires
He walked away with a fear of self
And exalted himself in fear and shame
He would never need that presence again
When he forged a powerful, worship base...of a name
He would create a world of debauchary
Where twisted passions are indulged
Men and women could experiment
And the nakedness of man bulged
...in plain sight
Kingdoms came and went throughout the ages
Merging and assimilating with one
Osiris and Isis, pagan gods
Yet "freedom" displays their symbols under GOD and GUN
All of civilization has been touched by failure
To respond appropriately to fear
Written history slants truth to serve agendas
With peanuts and beer
...with a wink of the eye
The system hides at the height of education
The breaking down of a flowing mind
Add a little "god" to the knowledge
And one can operate outside of the confines of time
Raising humanity above the sludge of soul
Into the heavenlies of a magical god
Using the terrors and horrors of the past
To make a paved road, much easier to trod
...to the ALL SEEING EYE
Education under the guise of religion
Is the perfect place to hide humanity's fear
We wonder if there is a difference, choice can make
That will bring down an all-consuming fire to sear
Man's conscience to perfection, the sainted election
Of those who will go into the next world, without sin
How can GOD deliver humanity, anew
Without ONE failing again...and again
...nothing new under the sun
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-16-2018
It’s you I call to in my dreams,
To pull me out from the fear I’ve seen.
The ones that hold me in captured fright,
When slow motion kicks in,
And my screams are no more than wheezing murmurs,
When my thoughts are running faster,
But my motions slow to a crawl,
Drawing out the torture of the moment,
But this time you don’t hear my strangled call for help,
Maybe my will isn’t strong enough to transcend,
From this dream state at this time,
God help me if I have to see out this nightmare,
I focus and force my broken earthy plight across the dream dimension,
Desperate to reach the woken world,
But still you don’t save me,
The nightmare encroaches,
The panic builds within me,
I choke,
There's no sound from me,
Which means you won’t know to wake me,
The impending realisation hits me like final last words,
My frightened whisper rasps and splutters,
I hear an old line in my head -
If you die in a dream then you die in real life...
My panic turns to savage rage and I scream,
I scream in defiance for I won’t be broken here,
I scream in the face of all my fears,
I scream so strong and loud,
That I tear a rip in the fabric separating my dream and reality,
It doesn’t slow my impending fate,
It ebbs closer still and I feel the acrid warmth wash over my face,
Just as I release my last defiant scream,
You reach for me,
Like an anchor reaching through the depths,
Pulling me back,
Shaking me awake from behind,
Everything fades in an instant as you pull me out of my slumbered suicide,
You heard me through the hole I made,
I open my eyes to the safety of familiarity,
Back in my bed,
My safe bed in my own room,
Next to you,
My night saviour,
But then,
As familiar reality surrounds me,
I look back and still see my dream,
For a second,
Just a moment,
My fear has followed me into my reality,
Through the tear I made to save myself,
Both worlds momentarily co existing,
Real fear grips me as I realise in that moment ,
The protection from the woken world has faltered.
Everything stops,
My heart stops,
Time stops,
I stare into the abyss for what feels like an eternity,
Then you speak and your words are like silver light,
And just like that,
Fear is gone,
Are you ok you ask,
Everything is normal again,
I’m fine I say,
Go back to sleep,
It was just a night terror.
Unwashed but felt, my single to every a tear sunk with the rain
Is there no life of my own can I exchange for hers to remain?}
“Though your heart may be pitiful in nature
It is seen that strength exist in one’s heartfelt structure
The tragedy witnessed is indeed uncalled for and unkind
The wrath of the Leech-King has succeeded in breaking the chains of time
However one is to think the terrors it is capable to unleash
Isn’t to be as compared to the horrors the spawn leeches it release
One being underway to consume the life of the Mistress of War
Tasting the blood, licking the soul till finally of death to befall
Yet, death is only to be the beginning of her worst nightmare
The service to the void must she forever be in servitude to bare
Time is always against those who would seek the path of faith
Every turn is only to promise another tide of evil to wave
I speak solemnly in words for my powers isn’t harvested for healing
Neither is The Angel of Dreams capable of such cursed nurturing
The Word however, will have a way to alleviate this travesty
Yet, time isn’t to favour one’s path towards the ultimate destiny
Perhaps only a day or two remains before Alkaiya is to turn side
And to have one as Holy to abide to The Void… is as well to welcome eternal night
Be warned Knight of the Word, Alkaiya is one’s guide within The Ancients
Where one is to be lost, all is lost… and either will be banished from existence
There is still a providential way to prevail over this quandary
Though it isn’t to cure fully, it is however the unsurpassed remedy
There is a God, a fallen God alike The Befallen Angel of Dreams
A day’s walk to the Mount of Ecilia is where he resides therein
I am not to promise a conceivable outcome to foresee
I can only assure… this being the finest proposal to be
And one need not fear to be alone, for I will guide the way
If not to ensure for the lives of the Champions… remains to stay
Live and let live one’s destine life within The Ancients to be
Do not be troubled by an enigmatic outcome, one is unable to see
Our paths must we bear the burdens our tormented souls will lead
My once path directed to failure where you must now succeed
Let us be on our way to ascend the treacherous mountains upon
To be there, will one’s subsequent path be unraveled along…”
Ode to Pain:
Springing forth and flowing in energetic liquidity. Emotions in motion in chasms far reaching me.
Of hearts preaching unbalanced in teaching thee. Lessons in life.
In balance.
Far from reaching me.
Ode to pain in yesterday's strife.
Memories of laid down bodies at night.
Darkest of specters nefarious in plight.
Left us unanswered in misery's strife.
Ode to the moon.
Only a fraction of light.
In mortal terror.
Rancid owls screeching in flight!
How, let us see through pitch blackness and fright?
When words are but all remembered.
With no dawning of light.
In lew of an awakening mind in the night.
We are given to remember our lives from great heights.
Falling from heaven became habits and rites.
Trapping our intentions.
Expectations arise.
Praying for forgiveness so that our Son may still rise.
Giving us forgiveness for wicked deeds in sight.
From the bowels are earthquakes.
Not butterflies.
Just lies.
We gather for sermons.
Hope will arise?
But all we are doing is looking elsewhere in spite.
Rather than the victims of our deeds in their eyes.
Instead we pray for forgiveness in the absence of sight.
Focusing on before.
The traumatic moments we die.
It's only in that moment.
Forgiveness will arise.
With power to break chains from your victims felt cries.
Relieving the pressures of dark gasses.
Bottled up inside.
Dissolving the lies from behind those eyes.
Your soul became wicked and suffered by night.
But mourning for forgiveness is not only just wise.
It's the only reason the sun has to wake up.
Have the courage to rise.
Shining light on your failures as a human is nice.
But shining light from your victim is forgiveness.
It carries you in time.
Relieving your worries and healing your mind.
Instead we kneel in darkness and pray to a vine.
Who's divine berries are sweeter and made into wine.
But the thorns are ripping apart in your mind.
Now that It's open.
Your blood we shall find.
Dripping and dropping and leaving behind.
A trail of just sorrow.
Nothing in mind.
Tears are long passed.
Nothing to find.
When the dark heart will not follow.
It's left there behind.
In these dark mortal terrors.
Forever.
You're left here.
You're Blind!
Dark heart of the lonely.
I love you
As if You are mine.
Hush now, all little children by the shadows of night,
Don’t resist, beware let the sleep take you, be at an uneasy peace,
For resistance is futile against this dream stalker,
Whom travels on the brain waves, of the unconscious mind?
Apparitions Spector, a vaporous wraith living on our inner
Deepest fears, a vampire of nightmares, feasting at the
Edge of panics scream, hidden is he beneath the layers
Of our worst horrific night terrors.
Comprehensions undetectable intruder, a burglar forcing
Entry by the elliptical moons anti rational sliding door,
A corporeal beast, thriving on the adrenaline rush,
Of the flight or freight, factors throbbing heart beat!
He this untouchable, whom slides his icy fingertips down
The backs of humanity, causing the fine hairs our necks
To rise and flair, a tip toeing sadist walking the delicate
Tightrope of our thin vail of dreams, than striking at us
With dreads demonic weapon, as we the innocent
Victim slumbers in depths deepest REM sleep.
Oh is he not the bogeyman's sandman, with his dark
Seeded bag of mischievous tricks, cast over his silhouetted
Shoulder, sneaking in the hallowed shadows of the nights
Blackened embrace.
An invisible phosphorus troll, existing without form or mass,
Slithering as a nocturnal snake, hunting the stilled warm
Embodied essence of humanity while we sleep,
And laughing at us this vaporous jackal, while we
Choke on his black nightmarish moon dust of death.
Pray faithful child beneath the illusions of the lit divide,
For guardians protection while thy rest,
So you may awaken in the warming breath. of
The next morning’s sunrise, for at night the
Demon of nightmares stalks for the hearts of the
Innocence and he takes no prisoners.
Now some may say that this mythical legend is
Just a story to scare little children, to make them
Go to sleep at night without a fight.
But others know the real truth about this
Spirit beast of olden times, these the watchers
Of dreams, and they say beware the sandman,
For he is always waiting, aware, lying in the
Blackness abyss of mankind's nightmares.
A child's pray,
Now I lain me down to sleep,
I pray the lord my soul to keep,
For if I shall die before I wake,
I wish the lord my soul to keep,
And not the sandman to take!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN