Long Wise men Poems
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Persuasion is a wise man's game
it's how wise men tame the thoughts of those who don't believe the truth.
Well they believe but yet they crave reassurance? They want to be told they're okay,it's okay, everything's gonna go their way. I get it. Though The wise men and their games always kill me. when they validate my feelings it always seems to heal me
Pain has become such a jest that
I told u my pain, And u called it jokes
U accused me of trying to boast?? Boast which part of this is prideful?? How come when I said this you didn't see my pain? How could you gaslight me into shame ?? you left me of the floor crying, hoping that I could be dying. all because of that wise man's game??
Desires are for the privileged.
Fantasies are for the peaceful..
Dreams are for the ones worthy of the clouds
Though I do fantasize
Who has time for petty desires..when they're so close to being covered in a shroud…
Fantasies, desires, those privileges.
Sweet dreams are for the ones With no Pain.
These Sinful dances
My thirsts and cravings
Crawling is a wise mans game
I take this pain and shove it deep
Then I dance with my demons until I sleep
These dances cover up my shame
These dances cover me right up
These dances hide all my pain
These dances make sure I'm not stuck
Crawling is a wise man's game
I like that term, "do you feel me" because I know that No one does. It's like me begging you to "heal me" yet my hands are covered in glue. Did this glue come from you. I can't lift my hand...it's as if my body does not want me to be sane. Then Realization hits me,
HERE I AM
HERE I DIE
HERE I CRY
HERE I LAY
HERE I TRY
HERE I LIE..Here I am prideful prey
Those kisses from the sinners keep me up at night
Those prayers from the sinful never Guide me to the light
Do I need not they’re like they’re like just leads me towards Shame
I can not move how I want. I know that these thoughts taunt me for defame..stumbling out of love..squirming to avoid all my thoughts that remain...yet I can not shake the fact that Crawling is, a wise man's game
I imagined this world a far better place
Hunger and sadness removed every trace
The wars had all stopped there was peace on Earth
Joy accompanied every beautiful birth
People all listened when wise men did speak
The bold and the beautiful were equal to the meek
Status was less important than truly being kind
People were not hurtful when they spoke their mind
Strength was measured by the good we would do
We thought of the many and less of the few
Work was a pleasure no longer a grind
By doing what we loved we nourished the mind
We chose here and now we didn't live in the past
Time was less fleeting each moment did last
We enjoyed all the people who were part of each day
There was time for relaxation we learned how to play
From my imagination I learned more as I thought
Things might happen slowly but they can change a lot
The best way to begin is to be a better me
To not think of other people as my enemy
Force has never worked it has led to more hate
What some think is inevitable doesn't need to be fate
You may think me naive yet that's not the case
Fear is the enemy that we need to erase!
Written April 12, 2016
For Dan Kearley's Contest.
Jesus came down to Earth one day,
And dwelt among lowly men.
He was born in a humble stable,
Poor shepherds came to worship Him.
He was not born in a palace,
With a satin pillow for his head.
They lay him in a manger,
With the animals near his bed.
If He had been born with rich men,
He would not have been “One of us.”
He left Heaven, with all its riches,
Became a commoner we could trust.
Wise men too came to worship Him.
The rich paid homage at His birth.
And when He cried, “It is finished,”
He made His bed with them in Death.
He came to Earth to save us all,
Rich and poor alike.
He came to show us-Everyone,
What God is really like.
He was a King sent on a mission.
He was one in whom we could trust.
But while He lived on this old Earth,
For a while, “He was one of us.”
Twenty one years ... what lesson was learned?
Three countries, five states, and thousands of faces,
triumphs and terrors, to be lauded and spurned,
yearning to please those I love and stay in God's graces—
then: chases, disgraces, getting lost in strange places,
seeing always the heavens through slips in the spaces.
First I was dreaming, of the world, everything.
Then I was steaming, a machine of success,
for failure was too frightening to see face to face.
So strange how guilt and fear are engines, unmatched,
in producing the highest of honors and praise.
Love is still a fantasy I once read in books,
though my family is my stronghold, my root, and my pride.
Creation was my delight. Was it fueled by self-oppression?
Is there any pure desire that the wise men call higher?
Perhaps I chose struggle with a mind that the fire,
would take me to ashes and leave nothing left,
except my words, whatever those are worth.
I once thought something of them.
It's easy to do.
To pretend that out of billions,
you're so special, too.
Once in my heart I believed that.
Or at least my doubt was too deep to confuse.
Yet I found others didn't vaunt me as I did,
and I was too vain to win, and too strong, still, to lose.
And in darkness I've stumbled some steps, let me fly!
I know there's much left to do; don't ask why.
My lesson is strange, but all mysteries are.
The more energy given, the more we receive.
The inverse, so intuitive, I know now to deceive.
April 13, 2017
“Are we under them or not?” they debated,
“Do we owe them explanation?”, they demurred,
Sure of their validation of this baby, they stated,
To Herod that one day it’d be the king conferred.
They knew they were doing something wrong,
To the Christ family and Jesus life which awaited,
Making his work harder by allowing scoffing long,
Specifying him for the Romans to have him fated.
But they believed in sociology as the mechanism,
For difficulties to be worked out through,
And upheld life and society as the atheism,
Which would confront their classism rue.
So revealed to Herod the birth of the child divine,
But kept back his address and how he looked,
So Herod ordered the death of every baby fine,
In order to kill that one infant that he’d booked.
He didn’t like the intelligence of the Zoroastrians,
The magi respected by all as insightful wise men;
Jews were bypassed easily as emotional pedestrians,
But the magi comprehended rational thought, ken.
So the wise men had integrity by respecting authority,
Showed consistency in their task to specify and select;
Were the original intellectuals who had subjectivity,
To both the Israeli people and the government elect.
633.
Meditation on the 3rd Joyful Mystery:
The Birth of Jesus Christ
In the days of Herod, Jesus Christ was born
(In a manger forlorn)
Since there was no descent lodge available
(Our Lord was born in a stable)
This is the 3rd Joyful Mystery – The Birth of Jesus Christ
That solemn night, angels invited shepherds to come to the newborn baby
(Who will shepherd humanity)
And a bright star guided three wise men to the infant
(Kingly gifts unto Him they would grant)
The fruit of this mystery – Love of the Poor
Oh God who had made flesh the Word divine
(Our Savior oh so fine)
The God who became man, the man who became God
(Who shall rule all the nations with the iron rod)
As “The Birth of Jesus Christ” had shown “Love of the Poor”
Lord God, like in “The Birth of Jesus Christ”, we want to love the poor
(This is a way unto Thee for sure)
Like Jesus – the King who had lived in poverty
(But rules mankind for eternity)
Praise God! We realized “Love of the Poor” through the 3rd Joyful Mystery.
-04/03/2019
*Meditations on the Mysteries of the Holy Rosary
Alright have to admit that whole drole Bazball or Baz Bat cool cat vibe…rabbit out of hat tribe.. is taking its toll..sunk in a hole..losing it’s goal and soul..not being a vitriol troll..maybe need to mull over a cull of this rigmarole..
Can’t pretend..is the end of this spangly jangly new fangled trend…nothing off the shelf…just express yourself…won’t spank you..will almost thank you.. if you tank…bonkers fools rules you can’t bend…must always go stonkers.. all cool no old school…when you shan't defend and depend on a blend of soft conkers and tracks to conquer..
Let’s explain there are many ways to play and entertain…the lotto of the Baz grotto..no dull lulls …no more bore score draws…one motto…just high octane insane where seemingly the sole means to control is a flat track that blunts and shunts how every attack does bowl..
I know..have already banged on..had a go at the pitches…feather beds so flat you can bat gung ho heave ho from the get go.. no wear and tear..glitches or hitches.. despair to stop the flair.. no real movement in the air or off the square..the Bazball pest…Bazbat conquest..effectively saying no we won’t be surfing the crest of a true test contest of willow and leather..hey ho nonny no…to the real deal Test fest..tally ho..
No pretension..apprehension of the lacking dimensions and few mentions of the best Test tensions..
Also must rebuke how they have turned the duke ball from a serious nuke which would spook.. enthrall..now reliant on a cherry that gets so soft you need a fluke ..well Dukes will be compliant as England’s their biggest client…we saw our copper haired laird no longer..stronger defiant..again came a cropper..and this was hardly a proper whopper green topper..
It seems kitsch Bazball rule needily greedily avoids any glitches or hitches in batter’s riches which in turn.. does spurn and bewitches merchants of seams and stitches..
Well it can be dicey to make your tracks at home too spicy..get in a lather…at the palaver as runs become rather pricey..when you could goad..milk that ilk as you explode on a silk road..
Our selector trifecta…the three wise men..Baz..Bob and Ben.. know if there is no speedster thuggery… no Geoffrey jaffas…bunsen spin skulduggery..they will be the gaffers with some Bazball muggery..
Mary when did your joy come most
For your child within not conceived of man
In your womb for nine months to be formed
The world was out to destroy this child
But God blinded there eyes and led you
To a place where this child to be born in a manger
Oh I have witnessed these labor pains
But the joy you must have felt when
You cradled Him in your arms
The north star shined brightly above Him
That we may always see He came from above
The three wise men were lead to you
Bringing gold, incense and myrth
Giving a true meaning so many miss
Gold is the knowledge and wisdom of God
The treasure of the mystery and truth
Incense was to give one there was a new sense
To awaken the five that we have not smelled
touch, seen ,taste are heard before.
The myrth to bring the anointing oil
That one was coming to prepare the dead
To allow one to see they are walking in death
But through this child was coming a new breath
They came from the east, west and south to give thanks to the newborn child from the north.
You witnessed your child teach this wisdom
And knowledge that He did not receive from man
He done many wonders and showed
The power of God in love to heal many
This must have left many wondering
Why this man from God do so many hate
For they relied on human wisdom and praise
Mary the pain you must have felt when
They lifted up this child on the cross
This goes to another level than labor pain
Everyone should have seen this was wrong
But God blinded there eyes to fulfill prophecy
He was then placed in this worlds tomb
For He would remain for three days
Mary did you have enough time to mourn
For on that third day when this Child
Came unto the world in a new body
Mary you must have been overflowing
With peace , joy, comfort and love.
For now your child from God
Is to be born unto all Children of God
Revealing we are dead man walking
He shall breathe life and spirit within
To place in good soil
That shall overcome the weeds
and thorns of life that try to hold one to this world
That God might reign within
To burn away the darkness
And place death under our feet
The ladders by which I shall soar
And the uncoursed peaks I must tour,
Are set before my gaze;
A complex and baffling maze.
For this I need my paths well to know:
That I'm not the son of a knight,
And I was not born with a silver spoon in the mouth
Nor did any wise men visit from the east or the south
After my lowly birth to Lord's servants meek.
I shall through all means known and also those unknown
Pierce every opposition and walls of dark;
For I'm my Heavenly Father's son,
And Him well-pleased with me nothing I shall lack;
To me belong all go-downs of silver and gold;
Every bit of success is His still,
And while sure that this all He shall bestow,
I just beg to do His will.
It shall astound many my soaring to fame,
When devil's cohorts shall labor under spirits lame;
And all my beloved friends I shall surprise.
I pray this day she be alive my affectionate mum,
And my father's departed spirit still with me,
Oh! what a wonderful day this shall be!
And the Lord who rules by His Omnipotent rod,
Shall all His vital mercies afford.
The Sun regained the morning sky
As the moon made its retreat
While wise men sat and pondered why
Upon the mercy seat
There is no understanding why
Countries go to war
And young have to kill or die
Amiss this bloody chore
But one man never questioned
When duty came to call
Prepared to meet aggression
Prepared to fight them all
He stood there, in the twilight morn
Scarf waving in the breeze
Careful not to look forlorn
And locking both his knees
Scrambling 'round to and fro
Like ants upon the field
The ground crew, with plane in tow
Prepared for this ordeal
Captain Fate, climbed to his seat
The cockpit snug and cold
The last plane in a mighty fleet
But, on the field stood bold
A crewman pulled hard, the prop
As the engine spit and sputtered
Pointing to the guns on top
"Good luck" was all he uttered
Fate took his D3 albatross
and faced it in the wind
Waiting there, to take off
And the Quoting War begin
By Jerry Curtis
March 15, 2014