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Brian Rusch Poem
In strange dream-lands
Perhaps on far, far away shores
Does stand the rim of Beyond Understanding.
A temple to higher thoughts, and subtle visions
Of more-to-comes and there-afters waiting
Holding futures bright, out from foggy mists.
Here, here is where your next place dwells
Land ye steady, fear not feeling... being alone
For there is no such thing, always is... company.
Sing you here then, your song, bright eyes
And listen ye to what you hear
The Beyond has always held your partner’s voice.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
For Those Who Hold the Field… the Keepers of Resonance
To be used at spoken dedications, at gatherings, at endings,
or where remembering is needed most.
The Salt of the Earth, the Silent
They walk without thunder
They pass without name
They mend what was broken
Before there is blame.
They carry the sorrows
Too quiet to scream
And bury lost hopes
With the roots of a dream.
Their fingers are weathered
Their laughter is low
They speak with their presence
More than they know.
They salt this earth gently
With patience and bread
They stitch back the sky
Where the weeping has bled.
No medals await them
No trumpets, no scrolls
Just children who flourish
And stories made whole.
They hold back the chaos
They balance the rain
They smile at the lightning
And walk through the pain.
___*___
When the towers have crumbled
And empires are done
You will find they still garden
By light of the Sun.
And when asked who saved us
What force held us true
We’ll whisper... The salt of this Earth did
The silent ones knew.
So may we still sleep sound now...
Where the salts settle in
Where even the field pauses…
With dreams rememberin’...
Earth held loving, still, by those who care.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
Muse - Day 1, 2016
For years I had read
Not realizing what I too, had given…
I had given, just not sure what I received in return.
So, in these, my later years thinking on this...
I approached morning’s-day Muse
Fresh with the Sun.
From all I had become in the Sum of Days
Muse asked gently of me...
“Who are you?”
I am an artist.
“I see no feeling
I feel no seeing.”
And so, the Muse went away
Fading back into the Sun.
And I wait for the next day becoming...
Taking a while.
___*___
Muse - Day 2, 2021
Once again summoned...
I approached morning’s-day Muse
In the rising Sun’s early hours.
And from life’s second Sum-Of-Days becoming
The Muse, now testy, asked me…
“Who are you?” She demanded.
I am an artist becoming.
“I don't feel what you see
I don't see what you feel
So how do you know who you are becoming?”
And so, the Muse sped away
Again… fading back into the Sun.
And I still wait for the summoning...
For the Third Day Becoming.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
Across the chasm, wide and vast
A silent bridge connects the past.
Its stones are words, its mortar thought
A path to truths we’ve often sought.
To cross it takes no strength or speed
But faith in what the soul does need.
A bridge unseen, yet always there
A link between despair and care.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
When one hits pay-dirt
How far can this go
The thrill in success is habit forming
Success becoming currency of the day’s blo'
Materialism playing a heavy hand as judgment
With minions waiting to join in
Groping for a share... a nibble
Crumbs from a well stocked table thin
Success breeding honey pots
Of opportunity to crowds waiting...
To fill the known orchards
Supplying needed and peripheral ingredients baiting
To whatever the market will handle
Sales and profits bloat to extremes
So did live fluctuations...
Demands creating room for re-supply schemes
May the best man supply
Even to excess if the profits allow for it
Sales for the sake of a sale
Profit gleaning until limits reached fit
Then at limits, belt tightening occurs
Competition gets misty
May the best men rule the day
Profits shrink tighter around honey pots risky
Profits looking for further supports
Even to cutting corners.
___*___
Not my loss
Parts turn on parts
Inner competitions flare
Consolidating looks for more glory from past days starts
The wolves come out from hiding
Killing off the timid lazy
Then rid the thieves and easy prey
Even vampires come under attacks… crazy
Leaving nepotism’s standing for last
Favorites then Cronies being the last to go
Leaving bare bones to be picked
How institutions set up for feeding know
Scraping bones so well.
___*___
And if basics do not hold
Mergers and buyouts occur
Around tight consolidations
Who the most fierce holding on were...
The home boys
Nodules that remain for the last pickings
While new frontiers are found by settlers
Looking for repeats ticking
So do infections thrive
Growing, expanding, then deflate
Around the industries of old
Scraping perimeters for new that rate
Even waking the dead
Making sure all graves are kept clean
And the entrepreneurs, partners, families, friends, fill the landscapes of America
Sharing in the profits with outside family and friends teamed
And when families weren’t enough
Questions abound looking for stragglers
What about strangers of the same fold
For profit remains for the king’s own hagglers
The nest squeezers always looking for more
As more is the king
So why not groups of those seeking more
To invest supplying financing lubrication's bling
To oil the gears of business
Hands in the till just for investing
A new game in town
As Nature itself came under siege resting
With conscience, ethics, and fair play
Finally put to bed.
___*___
Investing vendors joining the parties
Institutions grow as supporting investors
With nothing but money to fill in needed pockets
No talent and little time outside stock report requestors
Getting stronger over time
So strong, they become the last to leave
Shorts picking up their profits
At closing time retrieve.
___*___
So did, so does business prosper
With labor and resources getting the bill
Because after all it is a variable cost
In wages and benefits still
Find the best... cheapest employees
The market will hold
For wealth minds not sharing
For a little while bold.
The games the thing
And the toys the prize
Equal to dreams and comforts
While man’s true meaning lies…
Well, it remains in there folded, somewhere
Always worth a few pence at the end
The shill, bleeding heart excuses, and guilty conscience
Always worth more dimes and nickles mend
So does modern business prosper
Until all gray grounds are used up.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
Three has ruled the roost for so long...
Four, boxed in so, has forgotten its role.
So picture five lingering outside, waiting
Thinking itself only a star
None seeing what keys are needed
To open the legendary Time of Times.
Oh... will repairs come in time for life
Or will zero claim more as food once again.
___*___
Stepping back... who pushes us forward to abandon
Crisis, and cross the times of Time.
What are the words, completing instructions
That free the locks for sliding open
Where better Suns truly inviting...
Lay waiting for the new day’s break.
Yes... that hold with new destruction
When the three united
Venture forward free once again
Finding yellow to lead the way.
Who also changes where she, golden lay
Thinking alone to be
Until seeing silver dreams dance alive for her to say
‘A better book is not open
A better book is then written
On the ashes of those passing times...
When most left are just bitter pieces
Floating in the heavens
Waiting, waiting for better doors to open
With amber locks springing free once again
For those ready to see, and then… truly be.
___*___
Oh, what children then born, will all bear
Final light’s blessing on new lands...
For He creates well
Having collected all the needed pieces
Refusing fames and fortunes
To do the necessary deeds
That free souls once again to rise
In free airs, wiped of captivity.
How can one measure the glory of this
Listening well to the music of the waters
Having fallen once from majestic heights
While feeling the vibrations of dancing fairies?
Then too, let the our own rotten bonds
On winsome hearts break
To cry in wonder...
What has always been in front of our eyes.
How to put ahead opening secrets
Out of place, on purpose
So, to open ‘all’ the books
In proper telling measure.
In times of great choices, we be here to hear
Last waltz of tyrants bugle’s signal
Knowing it’s time for fresh lightings
To finally guide our ways.
___*___
Not to forget...
The first great evil upon us
Was the one creators spawned
In their own hearts and minds
Feral slavery’s feeling so good
Ruling as chaos over our own kind
Pretending as kind fatherhood
With evil queens would do better
Ready to birth some more...
Children worse than parents
Knowing inside all’s true intent
Whispering still from sins unforgiven.
Freedoms are a farce
And laughing at their demise
Captures out with any, all the good
Trying its best to live in the Sun’s rays.
Again, hide it most quietly well away
Or smash it all into pieces
Only letting little for hearts to see
As if the more was coming nigh.
___*___
So sad, bits and pieces are never enough
Though just right for discontents
Never fitting, never mind
Wholeness was never a true intent
And we the leavings
Lost what to do, search wistfully
For people loved around us
Always missing when its time for standing up.
Even... how then can Nature survive the wars
Our leaders press around us
Oh kill them, all life across the land
That is the thing to do.
As minion’s heroes fall, then we dance in the Sun
But, then what is it we do when over
But bring them dead, or so we thought
Back alive from within ourselves, so needed.
For the changes were, was made by feral minds
With Magic’s known not to be delved
With strange tools and recipes
As sung by Calliope in her brighter days.
In this, all live living abides.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
Grief is not a wound.
It is a door...
Hidden behind the tapestry
We spent a life weaving.
It opens...
When we can no longer lie.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
The circle turns, its edges smooth
A line that holds, yet... a line that soothes.
Its center still, its purpose clear
A timeless truth that gently... draws us near.
For to walk the circle is to see
The Self as part of infinity.
Its path unbroken, round and true
It holds the many, yet... speaks only, to you.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
A single light, a fragile spark
Guides the lost through endless dark.
The Keeper guards it, steadfast, still
A beacon strong, see.. a force of will.
It cannot falter, cannot fade
Its warmth eternal, softly laid.
The Keeper’s task, to hold it high
Until the stars themselves must die.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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Brian Rusch Poem
The body remembers…
What the mind politely forgets.
How rain once meant survival
How cold once meant fear
How being held...
Was once the only god that mattered.
Copyright © Brian Rusch | Year Posted 2025
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