Long World weary Poems
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Wise words will tell you
To follow all of your dreams
And that the only goal in life
Is to ultimately succeed
And that you can visualize
And set a goal
In order to achieve
But I ask you now
What’s the good of that
If you never took a day
And Gave it to God
And opened Your heart just to believe
See, we keep falling down
For temptation and lies
Like children skinning our knees
Until Our lives are spinning out of control
Like seeds from maple trees
Caught up with the desires of violence
Different drugs And the call of greed
And in the end we end up selling out
And giving up on all of our dreams
When we live with greed in our heart
We become stretched beyond our means
Spending and bending to get what we want
Only those that truly feel me
Will Know exactly what I mean
And life to those who have understanding
Know life Is so much more than it may seem
And they know these things in life
are just a distraction
The ends will never justify the means
Theres so much innocent blood
Being heartlessly spilled up in these streets
Don’t you know the devil is a liar?
He came only to kill destroy deceive
And to prevent you from having
Blessings to receive
But I solemnly do believe
That Jesus has the keys to your cell
And He can set You free
He is still hard at work
With His earthly ministry
And there’s plenty of proof
One of those proofs being me
There’s so much more to God
When you are humbled to your knees
When your Heart is hanging heavy
And your World weary when you grieve..
There is a place that you can go
To Spiritually find reprieve
The Fathers Hands are wide open
His arms are ready to receive
It Grieves Him to see us
Being misled and deceived
See, He Created Us perfectly
But Sin distorted the essence of the Seed
Twisted and corrupted
Until Cain made His Brother Able bleed
Jealousy distorts emotions
And we confuse our wants
As being our needs
Every Saint has a past
And every sinner has a future
And all it takes is a moment of belief
To erase the you who you were
Scripture says anyone that is in Christ
The new creation has come
Blessed be and let it be
And believe in the Risen One
Now go and put on the new man.
etherial entities, Elsewhere and Elsewhen
less than omnipotent but exceeding their parts
abide in Netherverse, universal children
intertwining potentials conceive child of their arts
a difficult birth through a point of positions
with a breath of inflation our Cosmos survives
face lights up with symmetry breaking transitions
a familiar fine face in the microwave skies
expanding bubble within a where-when ocean
two-way quantum cuddles along the interface
to us, top and bottom, a confusing commotion
to Cosmos, it's all around, warm parents embrace
and Cosmos communicates with siblings and friends
beyond overlapping membranes down massive black holes
at centres of galaxies where light bends and bends
re-meeting and greeting wild oceanic shoals
an ocean of learning, an endless becoming
made in the image of imagined potential
and listen closely, Cosmos is faintly humming
music symphonic with daring differential
keeping a rhythm that fast-forwards down aeons
then surfs the present and through time loops back
fabulous instruments, incredible crayons
sketch the past and future in one amazing track
and our Cosmos is tuned to the beat of life
empathy etched across a holographic mind
sharing grief and joy, the world weary cries of strife
the sheer delight of being, delirious and kind
awareness arises and then consciousness awakes
first galaxy focused on planets around stars
life teems, dreams and dances as intelligences outbreaks
escaping gravity's grip but leaving some scars
for pain and exultation, they fly together
space-timed, time-spaced, while smiling over horizons
Cosmos listens, then learns, needs touch of a feather
to fine tune core settings and cosmic liaisons
the task is great, for the infant bubble may burst
and then duly deflate to a point singular
or forever speed out so flat-lined and cursed
where, when, then... would learning be in story so far?
From the Nostril Vortex
I breathe in your perfumed
Plasma leaves from the nostril vortex.
I thrive in the pleasant scenes and velvet touchings.
I wince like a skybird earthbound.
Dare to escape from me.
Dare to hide in the dark.
Shhhh! Don’t make a sound.
I am dancing without shoes in the moonlight.
I am waltzing with precise pre-planned movements in space.
I am spewing out movements that show you and me,
The two of us, walking the precise path to here and there,
And then finally to the place of all endings,
And like the cool morning mist, death enters unseen.
“It’s the tomb! I’m in the tomb!
Mother, Father come get me here in the dark!”
But first, slowly slowly slowly…
I lift up her leg there in the shadows,
And I caress, and smell and lick.
“I have found the best time!
This is the most excellent moment!”
I was there in the dusty places,
I was hanging nearby with all of you.
I was wet with unimagined enticings,
Weary, oh so world-weary to the nucleus of my bones!
Of tentatively living all the years of a dubious lifetime,
And of finally dying in the dry ditches of twenty thousand days.
“Come here honey, kiss me now, here in the distant cemetery.
We can hold on to each other
As the mad earth spins into oblivion.
“Sir, would you be so kind?
Some mindful enterprise and
The Pretext Syllogism combo.
And I will have a side of nomenclature
And for dessert two heapings of existential mind mysogenation,
Topped with granulated mesomorphic nom de plume!
Dancing, dancing, dancing and holding on.
She and me sweating in the black heat.
No other way to live.
No other way to breathe.
“I am just here.
See? Know what I mean?
I was born into this like all of you!
I had nothing to say about it.
What do ya say, honey? What do ya say?”
A Perfect Company
By: Noel N. Villarosa
They are the big fish in a small pond
They received kudos and power widely
With their bunch of fives used as their wand
They dominate while sitting idly
Been tasked in carrying coals to Newcastle
Never saw them as cool as a cucumber
The atmosphere of the office is in a chronical hassle
Mobility and formative years, they are there to encumber
World-weary, so he indulged into stargazing
That he was working in a peculiar place
Where people work with eternal bliss
Where no one to make shudder and no egotist displaying
Everyone is happy to comply with buoyant spirits
You feel as no stranger but as a longtime friend
Where giving recognition and importance have no limits
Different origins and cultures do blend
There were no rush works and pressures
No deadline to meet and sanction
All work harmoniously with pleasures
And get involved in another function
They were wearing a white uniform
No shoes, all are barefooted
No pains to bear and no hurting words thrown
A feeling of living in your own homestead
The place is boundless in its beauty
Where children play with other creatures
No darkness, only eternal light and free from enmity
That you can rest in the placidity of its seashore
Then a meeting was called and everyone gathered in the garden
He was introduced by the man sitting on the throne
He saw the man’s face as magnanimous, charmingly simple and serene
A soothing voice and said, my son, there is no contract signing that you can hold your own
Only love will bind us as one
Written and posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site: 4 January 2010
In the marathon of life, we run with grit,
In the sprint of moments, we dash with grace.
In the relay of generations, we pass the baton.
Our legs pump like pistons, hearts our engines,
Our breath is the fuel that fires our journey.
We run through valleys of shadow and doubt,
We run over hills of triumph and joy,
We run beside rivers of tears and laughter.
Our feet leave imprints on the track of time,
Our sweat waters the flowers of our dreams.
Our second wind always waits in the wings,
Our hidden reserves hover just out of sight,
Our untapped strength lurks beneath the surface.
We inhale determination, exhale fatigue,
We drink from the well of perseverance.
We're strong enough to move mountains,
We're powerful enough to shift paradigms,
We're mighty sufficient to forge our paths.
Our will carves canyons through fields of impossibility,
Our resolve erodes the stones of obstacles.
But gentle enough to embrace butterflies,
But tender enough to nurture hope's delicate seeds,
But soft enough to cushion a fallen comrade.
Our hands, calloused from life's rough road,
Our touch is a balm for the world-weary soul.
We pace ourselves for the long haul,
We stride purposefully towards distant horizons,
We leap over hurdles that bar our way.
Our race is not always to the swift,
Our victory lies in the running itself.
So we lace up our shoes of courage,
So we stretch our muscles of resilience,
So we warm up our joints of adaptability.
Our course may wind, our path may twist,
Our destination: the finish line of our potential.
WHEN I BIT MY TONGUE
There was once a day,
While I was walking,
When I bit my tongue’s tip,
Accidentally perhaps or,
Did someone think of me?
But the matter was,
My teeth slipped,
As I was biting through,
A shelled peanut,
Unstopped by my impatient jaw.
The elders they say,
“Ask the nearest one,
Passing your way,
The number they’ll give,
Will correspond and tell,
The beginning alphabet,
Of thy minder’s name”
A street urchin was just then,
Mindlessly passing by,
Tattered clothes and wary eyes,
Naked soles and dirty hands
So I called, “Boy a moment please”,
Then asked, “Do you have a number for me?”
Dumbfounded he looked up,
From his wary stance,
Wondering who this intruder is,
To his unknown thoughts,
Always drowned by the streets.
“Zero, mister, the number is zero.”
A strange answer if I might say,
For the lack of quantity,
But it was nonetheless a number,
Though signifying absence,
Like black is to colours.
Piqued and nothing more,
My curiosity got the better of me,
I asked “But why, why that number?”
He looked at me, deeply it seems,
For someone so young,
A liberal dose of being old,
Engulfed him. World-weary,
And tired of words.
“Zero are the times I had comfort,
In my sleep, there is often hunger,
In my wakefulness, a drive to live,
In my longings, a wanting for a family,
In my dreams, a lack of chance,
My clothes, flimsy and worn,
My mind, a well of “whys?”,
My blood, thirsty and angry,
Unquenchable by this world”
Form:
Sitting watching the world, weary, contemplating life cold and dreary,
Upon a rock within a mountain which I'd often tread upon before,
As I wallowed, spirit maddening, quietly there came a saddening,
Much like a hammer's hammering, hammering on my very core.
"It's another foe," I stammered, "hammering at my very core-
Nothing new, nothing more."
All these thoughts easily I render, like a drunkard on a bender,
And each thing that I remember stings a little more than the one before.
Foolishly I stood there bleating to the darkness still believing,
"All these feelings, they are fleeting, soon happiness will be restored,
Please let them all be fleeting, and happiness soon be restored.
I cannot handle too much more."
Fastened on my rock so dreary, in the cave my vision bleary,
Nestled within the familiar mountain, cold and damp, alone and sore.
I wiped my eyes seeing clearly, a ray of light, dim yet near me
Looking back I am nearly sure that the light was not there before.
I'm sure I would remember seeing a light were it there before.
Darkness was there, nothing more.
From deep within me came a feeling, aroused by light my eyes now seeing,
That despair was only fleeting, a shadow whose presence I did deplore.
A menacing malevolent master guiding me towards disaster,
Whose derisive mocking laughter will abate when I find that shining ore.
These dark demons will cease to plague me near that golden ball of ore.
Of one thing, this I'm sure.
My vacuum cleaner’s broken,
sits in the garage gathering dust
Beside dad’s old green car,
oxidising an orangey rust
I tried washing it last week,
and the water turned to wine
Well the colour miraculously looks,
venetian turpentine
World weary in a dusty brain,
contemplating null dividends
Doubtful the universe grew from zero,
to mere accidental existence
I’m never sure of anything,
other than opening up my eyes
When intelligence outsmarts evolution,
worlds of meaninglessness arrives
Nothing ventured everything gained,
the cosmos just gave and came
Dust clumped together,
galaxies burst forth into flame
No blueprint just chaos,
serendipity’s our only friend
Instructions out the window,
laws of physics can’t comprehend
Anyway God created us,
a few millennia after we made him
Mankind needed order,
to rid an infernal world of sin
I mean who’d hold faith in dust,
when all is said and done
Well some of us actually do,
on the mantlepiece in an urn
Yeah I’m full of bull, this
agnostic needs little imagination
I’m wasting space on the fence,
making these observations
I watch dust versus crosses,
and a universe going bust
Neurons keep me company,
as my brain churns out mush
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
01/12/22 rhyme form
Who in the heck am I now?
I used to know
Not so long ago
But who the heck
am I now?
The days have changed me
Rearranged me
I barely know
myself now
I still look the same (mostly)
But I’m not… (except in name)
I know I’ve changed
(but how?)
I now own a complete
Absence of artifice
A sense of humility
Now resides in it’s place
I’m not the least bit dismayed
By my lines and wrinkles displayed
Proudly I wear them
On this world weary face
I know that no longer
Am I the man I once was
I know it
yet don’t know just how
The changes seem glacial
Not confined to things facial
So just who the heck
Am I now?
Oftimes this ol’ world
Can both amaze and amuse me
Delight and affright
Dumbfound and confuse me
The young man I once was
Long ago ceased to be
So who and what am I now
A man is like the seasons
e’er changing…
Is the reason
Of course that’s only how
I view the way of things
But we only see the changing skin
And not the change that resides within
The mind that morphs
And then takes wing…
It all has naught to do
With good or bad
Of right or wrong
Or sad or glad
The mystery lies
More in the how and why
That I’ve become the man
I am now…
I’ve no way of knowin’
The where and the why
Nor any idea of the how…
I just know that tomorrow
Be it a day of delight or sorrow
I’ll not be the man
…That I am right now…
Wrapped up in a suit of mandarins
playing hop-scotch with
a hillbilly from Enniskillen
whose left leg is filled with
soot and yellow dust
all wrapped up in a festering,
three week old banana crust.
A Marilyn Monroe figure
enters the fray
as a dinosaur named Ray
plays Russian Roulette
with a self-righteous pacifist
the day after he marries
his suicidal wife
whose mother was married
to the London gangster, Reggie Kray .
A libertine who fell in love
with a parody of nihilism
comforts a gay priest
whose real name is Marion Morrison
but you can call him ‘Big Leggy’
if it is your soul desire to molest
his world weary inner sanctum.
A carrot without a head for heights
falls headfirst into a bowl of
freshly ground coriander
on a wet afternoon in June,
the chef steps back, trips and
ends up with his fingers in
his Kenwood food blender,
‘oh you fluckin' 'anchor' screams
his dyslexic mum
as she kneels down beside her
now only six fingered son.
If only mummy hadn’t left me
alone in a dark cupboard
full of ghostly faces
with only an unhinged spider
named Mr Woof for company,
who frequently crawled up my nose
and inside my ears
on a far too regular basis!
Notes: Not to be taken seriously. I simply love words and what my imagination
allows me to do with them. Pete