Long Truths Poems
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History sounds – billions of muffled voices, vying to be heard.
The loudest ones rise to the top, while others are doomed to silence.
But even among those heard and remembered,
We will never truly know them.
We may gather their notes and letters,
Dig up their dusty bones,
Resurrect their hopes and fears,
Rebuild their childhood homes,
Learn of their loves and failures;
But this past we piece together,
Like a giant jigsaw puzzle,
Will never be complete,
For the person will always elude us.
We will never see the world as they did,
Or feel the ebb and flow of their culture;
Never carry the weight of their conscience,
Or know the depths of their convictions.
Though science brings us ever closer,
It can never truly take us there,
For the world once known to them can never speak;
It must lie muted, still and dead,
Haunting us with piecemeal truths,
That can never again be made whole.
I walked into a fire
that wasn’t made of flame,
a blaze of doubt and longing
that called me by my name.
It rose from buried questions,
from truths I tried to hide,
from all the dreams I’d quieted
to keep the peace inside.
Its heat was forged of choices,
of paths I didn’t take,
of moments when my courage
fell silent for my sake.
The sparks were old assumptions,
the smoke was worn-out fear,
and every crackling ember
said, You’re meant to stand right here.
I felt it burn around me,
yet nothing turned to ash;
instead the fire revealed me
in one bright, searing flash.
It stripped away the shadows,
the stories I outgrew,
and left me with a fierceness
I never knew I knew.
For metaphorical fire
does not arrive to break~
it comes to heal, to melt the boundaries
we never meant to make.
And when its heat has softened
the walls we built in vain,
with faith we step out of the furnace
more whole than we remain.
The thought of me that came into your mind,
It grew;
It blossomed;
You thwarted it;
Hopefully you are letting it wilt and die.
I do not want to ignite old flames.
I want to believe your words were true;
After all you said them,
But my mind acts as if it has a mind of its own.
It's been months but still it will not hear the end of it.
These feelings are beginning to feel disgusting;
I hope they die.
I tell myself I need space;
Space away from you;
Honey believe me, I only believe that for a while;
Then I begin to look for you;
The you I know I will never find.
I get glad when you don't show;
When you neither call nor text;
Because if you as so much turn your head I fear I might clutch onto you;
So I hope this dies.
Then I dream of you;
You are just next to me;
You talk a lot but it feels like silence;
I smile at you;
You peak at me once or thrice,
I am reminded of our old days;
When you used to care.
I feel comforted at the same time I feel sadness
Is this what it means to be delusional?
I hope it dies
I know I love you;
I know I miss you;
I know I yearn for you;
I know I search for you;
But I can no longer differentiate between your truths and your lies;
I know my truth but I don't know what to do with it;
So I hope it all dies
Her Eyes
Has anyone ever told her how dangerously beautiful her eyes run deep,
not just beautiful — but deep like wells that hide whole truths in silence they keep,
and when she lines them with mascara — that dark and delicate edge so fine —
it becomes impossible to look away like the whole world dissolves into the shine.
Her eyes undo me like an old letter sealed up with wax and fire,
I don't need words when her gaze speaks everything I could ever require,
or maybe I'm just obsessed — quietly teaching myself the secret language of her face,
stealing glances when she isn't looking — like a thief of light without a trace.
What wouldn't I give to see even a flicker of longing in her eyes meant for me,
because when they meet mine — I forget things I was supposed to hold and keep,
I lose thoughts I meant to hold onto like precious stones inside my hand,
and I fall into them completely — I fall upward — like rain that forgets how to land.
When the moon rises the whole world stops to admire it in sacred silence and awe,
when flowers breathe out their fragrance everyone nearby feels it without a flaw,
when cold wind touches skin not a single soul stays unmoved or cold —
eyes this beautiful and this quietly powerful cannot leave me untolled.
I cannot be the only one affected by this gaze so calm and alive,
and still I hope she knows — even if I never say it aloud to survive —
that the eyes she carries are the only light that can ever reach and come through
the darker corners of my heart — where no one else has ever made it to.
The paradox is that her eyes don't look at me — and still I sink in them whole,
that she exists without knowing her existence is the map that guides my soul,
and every stolen glance is a small and complete and fragile universe of its own,
that I carry in my chest like a buried fire in the middle of April — alone.
Look in the eyes, twinkling light, so alive... caressing the heart, breathing life across the soul, inspiring joy within the one who knows that love comes from above – by poet
Shimmering whispers of musical notes
Fresh roses against a gentle hope
Softening the shadows that surround the soul
Who listens quietly to the peaceful thoughts
Discovered within God’s holy word
Breathing appreciation through the one
Who listens to the heart
And fills up the spirit with emotions
Colored in hues of azure innocence
Warm and compassionate, like a gentle rainfall
Beckoning to the senses in sighs
Of enlightenment and miraculous truths
Joy that fills the mind to overflowing
With love that leaves no doubt
Of the inspiration and soothing found
In hope that lives and fulfills
Faith that is so alive it thrills and chills
With a fiery promise of blessed assurance
The beauty of a love
So bright and real that it perceives
All the miracles that touch upon
Our laughter, light and love
All the inspirations sent down from above
To bring us through the storms
Into the sunlight which warms and lightens
Our hearts to the assurance
That everything we’ve been given
Is a gift from heaven
A reward for sharing our feelings
Of worship with the One we know as our Savior
The giver of life and love and laughter
The giver of everything pure and delightful
Everything that makes our lives worthwhile
With a gentle murmur from my heart
I would like to Thank God
For the joy, hope and faith – the love
That is brought alive by His grace
I worship Him with complete assurance
That love like this has complete endurance
Love so alive it breathes life
Into the one who knows
God is alive – He’s everywhere, always
Living through our hearts
He’s the answer, the promise, the maker
Of hearts, hopes and happiness
He gives inspiration, acceptance and grace
To all who listen to the still, small voice
Of His presence
I love God with complete adoration
I worship Him and praise Him
Give all my heart and soul
to the One who has complete control
With God, I know I’m in good hands
He’s the One who makes me who I am
He is surely my very best friend!
PARALLEL ARE THE RAILS
(PRE-VERSE 1)
Feeling all alone
Cast away like a stone
Few friends what I got
True friends can’t be bought.
(VERSE 1)
Living is a joke
Think I’m about to choke.
Lookin’ at you
Lookin’ at me
Mirror is true (but the reflection is cracked)
False truths won’t set you free.
(Pre-Chorus)
I got my time
I got my rhyme
Beggin’ for a dime
Beggin’ for your time
(Chorus)
Bittersweet is the love (Sweeter than the lime)
Smellin’ like a clove
Burnt up in a stove
Rotting in a grove
Shrapnel of hardened nails
Pouring down like the rain
Storing away the parlayed pain
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
(PRE-VERSE 2)
Heavy is the stone
When you’re all alone
Many friends were not what I thought
False friends are easily bought
(VERSE 2)
Drowning in the smoke
Deception is no joke
Reflection of you
Reflection of me
Mirror is true (but the reflection is cracked)
False truths won’t set you free.
(BRIDGE)
Dreaded are my locs
Dreadful are my thoughts
Locked away in my cerebral box
Cast away like abandoned lots
Got dreadlocks down below my needs
Beatles in the sound
Help me get around
Got hair like my ancestral Swedes
Brain damaged by Floyd
Brain examined by Freud
(PRE-VERSE 3)
Can I get a fix
Feelin’ a little sick
Like when I was six
Trippin’ over a stick
People like to stare
Like I’m some disease
But, I don’t care
I do as I please
(VERSE 3)
Ridin’ on a train
Lookin’ for a change
Freedom from the chain
Leaves me feeling strange
Lookin’ a little strange
Beaten by the chain
No time for change
Ridin’ on a train
(Pre-Chorus)
I got my time
I got my rhyme
Beggin’ for a dime
Beggin’ for your time
(Chorus)
Bittersweet is the love (Sweeter than the lime)
Smellin’ like a clove
Burnt up in a stove
Rotting in a grove
Shrapnel of hardened nails
Pouring down like the rain
Storing away the parlayed pain
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Parallel are the rails
Lyricists Inc.
D.A.P. / Digital Analog Productions.
David A. Porter 3/??/18
To be different is your superpower,
An incantation hidden in the heart of midnight,
A silver vein in the dark fabric of the world,
Where dreams whisper ancient secrets and reality slips through veils of mist.
In the flow of consciousness, I lose myself in the labyrinth of the mind,
Where your inner gardens bloom in unknown colors,
Each petal, a symbol of your distinctive magic,
Among the shadows of conformity, you are a shooting star often lighting up the sky.
In the depths of my being, where silence carries ancient echoes,
I find reflections of your presence, a dance of light and darkness,
In this rigid world, you are a flowing stream of gold,
An eternally burning flame, bursting with power and mystery,
Your brilliance flowing from every step on the cosmic sands.
To be different is like a dream from another dimension,
Turning time into an eternal rainbow,
With every gesture, you break the patterns of normality,
Leaving behind a trace of unknown magic and eros.
In this universe of straight lines and rigor,
You are a magician of unwritten truths,
A storm of words and emotions defying the gravity of the ordinary,
Each thought a bow of circles, each breath an incantation.
The world wears its masks of humble uniformity, but you are the multicolored stained glass,
Every hue, every shadow of your being,
Forming a mosaic that unfolds only in the moonlight,
A story seen only in the eyes of those who lose themselves in your depth.
You are a fountain of mysteries beneath the core of the earth,
Your invisible current felt beneath the common surface of existence,
Teaching the roots of an enchanted forest that blooms at your touch.
You are that wave that shatters the rocks of conventions,
An eternal call to authenticity.
Your different magic weaves lights and shadows into boundless landscapes,
A reality anchored in myths and profound dreams, fulfilling you in unison,
Showing us that in your singularity, lies the power to shape worlds.
In the flow of consciousness, I always return to your essence,
Where rigid lines unravel into endless spirals,
And I recognize that to be different is a sublime gift,
A mystical poem written on the edge of eternity, where desires become light,
Flowing through the veins of a world that never ceases to transform,
In a melancholic dance of the divine and the magic that embraces us.
In the glow of your blue eyes,
A spark ignites the sky
With laughter, warmth and grace,
You light up every stage
Thank you for your gentle heart,
Inspiring me to play my part
Your smile’s a shooting star,
You have changed my life,
Just as you are
Dreams take flight with your warmth near,
You’ve embraced my dreams, and my tears,
And every time your spirit falls,
I’ll hold you close, ‘till you feel whole
I know I sought precaution,
Against all I could not understand
Yet you healed me as the blizzard,
Threatened to break me down
You stood still in the limelight,
And held a spotlight,
On what I thought were tears
I love you, I love you, I love you
And this is my song for you, dear
I run away from my problems,
Too scared to step onto the stage
I wrote my song for you,
Let it within your heart play
And you, spoke my words through,
Your smile, and eyes
I feel electrified,
By your words, so kind
You taught me to stand by,
All that I believe in,
And through your kindness, I am noticed,
A new me you created
I wrote this piece to say thank you,
In your kindness I’m alive
For the moments of love,
I am gratified
I feel like I’m an actress,
I speak my truths through your words
Within your eyes, there’s a comfort,
As you change my world
I will stand by, the spotlight,
And state my monologue tonight
I’m through with short “goodnights,”
To my fears I say “goodbye”
‘Cause together we change all laws,
Left unbroken
Unteach life’s wars,
Reignite integration
You have taught me to heal,
From what’s caused my erosion
Ascension derives from strengthened emotion,
You made me the girl I was meant to be,
And what’s played out on TV,
Is not all of you I remember, please
Let me state my case, with ease,
You set me free
I am through with short “goodnights,”
You have more than brought to life,
To my fears I say, “goodbye”
I no speaky . . . 'cept better'n you!
Hide white-crime
behind white-erasure;
that this brown skin'll ne'er
win your view, unless
more light lights-upon
your vacuous “Truths”;
for all your Of, & For, & By;
your final-flush to nether-color,
as "Green" abuse' your hues.
Then burn in'er . . . 'till stone owns you!
Hope, however, by
heaven's 'pink reckon',
as though such hall's
called rabbits like you;
keep “greasin' da chain”
or break “Spic'd” - like me!
Amera can'ts’ "gutter-pride"
niggardly rescues.
Truth be told,
evolution narys.
Only heaven-hope holds
your null-cull’d ayes;
your just true-state,
remanding her due.
_______________
Notes:
[In consideration of the oligarchs]
Political Statement:
If economic power can translate so easily into political power, then excessive wealth, as easily, becomes a threat to the commonweal. By such a power-dynamic, Republican Governance Fails.
_____
The subject is: "White-Supremacy", which does not include nor encapsulate all “Caucasians”.
There is but one “Race” and given its historical behavior, I wouldn't recommend it.
The economic reference is just to put a “Commie” Scare into them because:
The greatest weapon of the oppressed is: “The Truth".
Welcome to the status quo ~ America's Perpetual Revolution!
Believing in you is
Being just you, the simplicity of you
Embracing each twist and turn
Stepping outside the confines of your mind
Revealing truths and bringing clarity in chaos
Engaging in the art of the here and now
Changing dark unnecessary innateness
Diving into each brushstroke, swaths of colorways
Letting the moment paint a masterpiece uniquely yours
Freeing up the shackles of the mind
Feeling compassion of heart and soul
Taking a voyage to the center of universal reality~
Shedding many prejudices indelibly embedded in thought
Unmasking anxieties that do not change the world,
serving only to distract causing mental coil
Trusting your instincts is your compass
Off putting, although valuable truth may be
a diamond amidst pebbles
Experiencing every morsel of life’s banquette