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Chris Peers Poem
Kiss my lips for the last time,
and let the clock end its chime,
remember, life with me was not a dream,
don't be sad at little sparrows flight,
when the wise owl sees into the final night,
a wry smile for the years that did creep,
paying no heed to patient twilight sleep,
when those grains of sand have fallen from my hands,
let me set sail for unknown lands,
for once I did play in a womb,
now I rest in eternal tomb.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
I walk among you wielding my great sword,
cutting, slicing, stabbing and dicing,
and my banner says peace, love and harmony,
but only on my terms,
come with me and I will create utopia,
a true Heaven on Earth,
I don't care for your wisdom of the sages,
people like you are bringing in the new dark ages,
how dare they live in houses that have more,
we must finds ways to even the score,
we've got to fix their evil ways,
or the world will fall from grace,
don't tread on me and throw the old men on to the fire,
look at those nasty words on the screen,
they've hurt my feelings, I wanna scream,
understanding and acceptance are not in my rule book,
see the world thru my eyes, go on take a look,
in this modern world, every other him is a her,
and every other she is a he,
and a plethora of inbetweenies and undecided,
my reality was established eons ago,
but my past is dead and my history is changing,
your contract of peace is not welcome here,
as it is a declaration of war from you,
I fight to choose whats best for you,
and don't really care who has to lose,
my sword is eternally bloodied,
dripping, stained and hungry for more,
shut the door on our evil ways I say,
get down on your knees and pray,
I look at them picking a side,
how dare they support things anathema to me,
for I am the champion of all the oppressed,
and I truly do shed tears for the dispossessed,
honest I do, I swear to God,
I demand of you to respect my identity,
and pay attention, for I will be different tomorrow,
my truth is the ultimate truth,
and what slithers from your mouth are vicious lies,
I am the one that truly cares,
and you must make the sacrifices in the coming years,
my happiness depends on your convictions,
respect my sword, its always ready for a reaction,
don't you dare try to pop my bubble,
I'm very happy and secure in my vacuum,
I love to echo the opinion of like minded others,
I will scream and shout and call you names,
if it causes me personal moral indignation,
and don't laugh at me if I have fits of moral outrage,
look at all the good things I have posted on social media,
for this proves I am a good person,
just be like me and you will be accepted,
dare to be different and I will cancel and disconnect,
I can easily add you to my collection of ghosts,
hear my sword,
scraping, clanging and ringing,
always drawn, tempered with an eager desire for an ideological killing,
who am I you say, I am you I say.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
Are we all part of a divine master plan,
or just random accidents and peculiar circumstances,
did love evolve from the primordial soup,
or is it the secret ingredient from the beginning.
Existential ruminations,
past, present, future,
swirling in my head,
we can only know,
that we truly don't know.
Doing deals with our devils,
seeking forgiveness from our personal gods,
changing our faces for different places.
Daily rituals carried out,
annual traditions celebrated,
people come and people go,
potholes and sinkholes,
thunderstorms and rainbows,
a myriad of emotions,
not enough highs and too many lows,
wisdom rarely speaks and pain is too often felt.
A smile for the new born,
sometimes a tear for those who die,
and not enough smiles and kisses for those we love,
if we're lucky we find true love,
is it really enough,
what will tomorrow bring,
in quiet contemplation I ask why of the absent gods.
Worrying about things that don't happen,
feeling insecure and lost,
youths dreams full of hope,
aging dreams full of doubt,
earnest prayers have three answers,
yes, no, maybe.
Collections of status symbols,
hedonistic fulfillment's and ego trips,
is life an on going paper chase,
treading shifting sands blown by winds of change.
Is this all I really need,
this magical elixir,
this feeling called love.
Yet, the enigmatic mystery of life,
has me seeking more,
perhaps a biological or evolutionary twist to keep moving forward.
Continually trying to make sense,
of what lies beyond the picket fence,
choosing heroes to emulate,
keeping a watchful eye on the villains,
perpetual friction causing change.
Ships of hope drift away and sink,
swallowed by the ocean waves,
life lets me understand in reverse,
as I seek the wisdom in its eyes.
So many doors to go through,
too many roads to travel,
so many rivers to carry me away,
too many choices,
a dance between order and chaos.
Heartbreaks and disappointments,
failures and successes,
birth, life, death,
but this feeling of love,
makes everything alright.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
Giggled with glee running down a cobblestone street,
full of youths joy and always upbeat,
there was football in the park with all the neighborhood kids,
and daredevil bike jumps and attempting long skids.
Asking parents for our friends to come out and play,
or knocking on doors and running away,
and we would kick tin cans all around our homes,
innocent childish pleasures and prepubescent hormones.
I remember mothers pushing prams and wailing babies,
and saw girls in the park making chains of daisies,
I heard the screeching of brakes and slamming doors,
and being bored on Sunday's during summer downpours.
Our clothes were hand me downs or from the local flea market,
we were lower working class bereft of savoir faire and etiquette,
moths would always be fluttering around a dim streetlight,
and mums and dads would tell scary stories on Halloween night.
Any old wood would make castles, tree forts and bonfires,
and in the local woods, we searched for lions and tigers,
on hot summer days we pop the bubbles on road tarmac,
if we were cheeky to the wrinkly old folk, they would say I'll tell your mum to give you a whack.
Mum would keep us from school if we were a little sick,
and granpa would play his old time jazz music,
we loved to stick our tongue out when it began to rain,
and finding a long stick was used as a walking cane.
We always ran home from school for our tea and watch the telly,
on Sundays we had roast beef and custard and jelly,
we laughed out loud at our favorite cartoons,
and we looked forward to birthday parties and popping balloons.
We screamed in the park on the roundabouts and swings,
and ran down hills pretending to be a fighter plane, using our arms as wings,
if we got a kiss from a girl, it made us feel heroic and special,
especially if they were pretty and a face full of freckles.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
And the thunders thundered and the rains rained,
the waves crashed upon the shores,
and the winds could not blow the Dragon to the heavens,
and the seasons marched on.
And the people became afraid to enjoy the warmth of the sun and seek romance under the moon,
and the people asked, why has the Head of Days become so dark,
and the people asked, why does the Lord of Night who walks among us shine so brightly.
And those with ears took their guidance from Hermes,
and the vexed demanded sovereignty of themselves,
and rulers in the West had two faces for all to see,
for it was a time of self righteousness,
for many showed their cleanliness,
and made public their virtue.
The cautious hid behind veils,
and judgement's were cast in the market places,
and brothers became strangers to their sisters,
and mothers and fathers heeded not each others council.
Babylon had risen again and confused the peoples again,
and it came to pass that laws were spoken into power,
and the deaf and blind multiplied thereof,
and the Dragon exhaled a much more fiercer breath.
While the humble serfs made daily bread for all to eat,
and those with wagons continued their journeys,
and the merchants found new ways to collect gold,
and the town criers spoke learned truths to their followers,
and heard as lies from others,
and many truths and lies were spoken and heard,
and sanity and insanity whirled like a dervish.
And the houses of Babylon crumbled with bedlam,
and the prophets in the town squares cried Apocalypto and caused those with cautious ears to shepherd their children,
the belly of the Dragon knew not satiety, for its hunger was never satisfied,
nor was its thirst fully quenched.
And the potion makers sought the wisest alchemists,
and the potion makers concocted elixirs,
while those with closed eyes ran like blind sheep into crevices and over mighty cliffs,
and for those with open ears, they listened to the wisdom of the sages,
and the Man in Rome could not seek clemency from his Master,
for it was felt by many that the Lord of Spirits was powerless against the Dragon,
and some said he was the terrible breath of the dreadful Dragon.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
Keep forever magenta memories,
chased in fields of old mud, barefooted,
allow disgrace and stigma to reveal,
fading amber secrets,
of indelicate curiosity,
scarlet laughter invited burgeoning confidence,
callow and covetous intrigue dissatisfied,
Mother Mary's flower bud sinned against,
when carnal instincts overwhelmed,
aching wounds of then still burnish,
but clemency is forever void of her embrace,
when the sullied clothed in midnight blue,
wept for fading Spanish guitars,
and thunder rumbled to the turquoise sea.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
Seven mirrors broken when I was seven,
longing for the day of lifted depression,
mournful memories collide in cacophony,
journeys thru faded tapestries taunt and please,
a practiced facade of cheerful bonhomie,
unwelcome regrets return with the breeze,
visions of the future after the curses end,
a new man approaches from the mists of time,
not quite ready to shake his hand,
a gypsy queens benign smile reflects in her crystal ball,
perhaps a man will rise from the fall,
grapes are being crushed by feet for a new wine,
swords are ready to be sheathed,
disappointment and resentment look down at their future grave,
fresh fields stretching to the golden horizon await light feet,
as forests of the dead burn in the background,
final goodbyes to the ones I could not save,
a new journey will leave behind unavenged deceit,
wisdom awaits the call to reveal the profound,
seven broken mirrors will no longer curse and enslave.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Peers Poem
The Dragon exhaled a deathly breath,
far beyond the ancient lands of Tartaria.
I gazed down upon the feet of the King sat on the Mercy Seat,
and asked, why are you casting your children into the Valley of the Abyss,
the mighty voice from the Mercy Seat bellowed,
I have no rage for those that have turned their feet away from the path I have made. The paths they have made are by their own feet, they wanted to become like gods, and so they conjured up a Dragon with an insidious breath.
And the mothers and fathers snarled like hungry lions,
and their end of days had them gasping for breath,
and Sheol welcomed clan members from across the lands,
it was a time of ghastly visions and many cried and prayed.
And the merciless Dragon spared no traveler on the right side of the road, nor the left side of the road,
and the houses of the sick overflowed,
the toil of work became heavier,
and the men labored as if they were three.
And the people elected new leaders,
while the Dragon continued its relentless flight,
and the people grew suspicious and believed all the people were like lepers,
and the people became fearful of those the Dragon breathed upon.
Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2021
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