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Best Poems Written by Michael Walkerjohn

Below are the all-time best Michael Walkerjohn poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ongoing Mental De-Evolution

Anyone can write…
 and drown in their self-delusions; 
 from persons into personifications
 lists of passions, glorify self's illusions; 
 down those lists, 
 most veiled by incomprehension
 one's passion is most often expressed
 as the byproduct, 
 of misconstrued personal emotions; 
 therefore, in these briefs that follow
 rest some seeds for those
 whose mental fields lay perpetually fallow…
 Xenocrates, his gods being unity and duality
 i.e. episteme, aisthesis, and doxa
 are lost to US, 
 by rue of epistemonike aisthesis; 
 Mersenne's numbers, 
 to Eratosthenes' sieve
 Erd?os' factorization, 
 and Archimedes' constant conceived; 
 Holy vowels expressions! 
 Great Gobs of Goose shite, please! 
 release US from this context, 
 relieve this tumultuous tease; 
 probe Bertrand's Postulate, 
 exposing your thinking's
 prime numbers seized; 
 however shallow, and wordless
 your tongue tied thoughts do concede…
 so many things are above me, 
 so many more lay beneath
 my scratching, itching, and twitching
 these are reminders of my simpleton's grief…
 in this fiat before me
 on these issues held, and in my beliefs
 that my mind is much more
 than the street corner tavern's
 proverbial hat rack…
 now that's a relief! 
 What is it within US? 
 that sullen darkness and introversion hides
 those snide daily reminders
 the eclipse of the sun
 and or a debutante's swoon
 a cheap parlour tricks wonder
 or that pin-striped baboon's face
 we each express as we howl at the moon…
 Excuse me this meandering
 but, it is my gut busting chortle
 you now so surely conceive
 that this little snippet from our dear William
 does so help you believe
 that we all live this one time
 so as ourselves, do profoundly achieve
 what your inquisitive conscience
 exposes as your life's
 most constant semibreve…
 ['Think of this life; but, for my single self, 
 I had as lief not be as live to be
 In awe, of such a thing, as I myself.']
 in conclusion of
 this bit of confusion
 do infuse this allusion
 as your daily transfusion
 of the smack of illusion
 and the sole, blithe, transformational revolution
 now necessary for your mindset's
 ever changing and ongoing mental de-evolution.

Details | Michael Walkerjohn Poem

Poetic Definition

by Michaelw1two

 Poetic writes speak volumes too,
 this profound nature of humanity;
 expression’s glyph or determination’s rift,
 each soothing rhyme or base profanity;
 provoke of consciousness that drift,
 so casually or with rude insanity;
 furiously incite or simultaneously delight,
 set straight a thought or induce banality;
 unconscious rubric struggles forth,
 within the cleave of line, phrase and meter;
 guides a casual readership towards,
 all present trends hidden in a bard’s demeanor;
 exposing just who seems ubiquitous, who is ingenuous,
 or just simply stubbornly ridiculous;
 one’s sensuality splayed, our generosity bade,
 your critical natures shown meticulous;
 senses not semantics, rule of roles revised,
 lines of life’s romantic, cleverly devised;
 discovering our thoughts on everything,
 exposing our minds to Id and ideals contrived;
 methods breached lift conclusion’s reach,
 an ill-advised tome reaps the thought’s divine;
 nurtured reasoning replaced by jest,
 releases the distain hidden within a mind’s set plein;
 within this relief be it muse or beast,
 rests an orators mirth, or an epic myth’s imply;
 poetic license freed, such a thing indeed,
 that “cat’s meow” bests a graven image’s belie;
 metaphors and idioms when used correct,
 add intrigue and delight to a word works vamp;
 bathos taps one’s inner laugh, hyperboles,
 release a poem’s waft, jape and poet’s stamp;
 pleonasms reinforce, oxymora juxtapose,
 litotes understate, analogies delineate… cognition;
 and irony, an express of verbal, dramatic,
 cosmic or Socratic, lead to a write’s ideal fruition;
 understanding each of these parts implores,
 partnership between, these particles and that of yours;
 expressing the limits of personal tastes and so much more,
 you, your dreams, schemes, hates, fears, tears and rapport;
 binding together all of US, and create the bonds that thus sustain,
 poetry to living life, to easing strife, within the poet’s world domain.

 Michael WalkerJohn

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The Mentor

Righteousness expressed in struggle’s ply,
 comes shining in a single lifetimes chance;
 From life’s shadows dim a gift will rise,
 explicit in one solemn watcher’s glance;
 Prosperity’s plex is so placed in hand,
 but fortune’s bless those blind deny;
 Bliss from one’s valid efforts blocked,
 results in stress and tears from failure’s fry;
 Delivered not is the finisher’s fee,
 collected is butt, and not success’ pride;
 Covertly served is an effort’s worthy try,
 reward, is goodness, and a steady upheld bide;
 Worth’s weight, the lowest hanging bough,
 when weighed by the thinker that seeks to vide;
 Value thus, when shared is given gratefully,
 without the thoughts of a profiteering mind;
 Presents to those of worldly wiles,
 one dilemma, upon which the fool will find;
 Clarity flexed removing one’s clouds of doubt,
 what “gold” then mined, supplies a lifelong tithe;
 Fulfillment is extract cast from nature’s whey,
 nourishment enough for every creature’s clime;
 Surely now greed can be wholly sacrificed,
 and stress from the chase of cash be slimed;
 Follows simple logic does this gist,
 that once given a gift, the bearer of such will shy,
 Away from snide and lowly self-intent,
 and allow a higher thought to clear life’s cloudy skies;
 From unknown facts, to time’s knowledge let,
 each giver grants to all their generous boon;
 Transgressions pushed aside are but truths to whet,
 when honed by honesty, and in divinity hewn;
 Hold these ‘truths’ expressed, prove mind’s suppress,
 can be cleared for all, and not spent as garbage strewn.

Details | Michael Walkerjohn Poem

The God Particle

I asked the desert 
 to carry me from this place
 of the Qubbanet El-Qirud’ infertile soil 
 suddenly, that whisper of wind
 took my hand, and walked
 along and alone with me
 I, heard a voice, in tones of angels
 “we see your beautiful life within”
 one that we do not understand
 yet, I do not remember this life
 as having beauty
 I see a life that I have
 wasted thoroughly; jealously
 and unrighteousness ruled
 my empty daze, before
 this; please do something
 do look closely into me
 I asked this of both the angels
 and my desert friend
 the desert smiled…
 as all of Heaven’ Angels
 swooned and said, “your life,
 from infinity you have come”
 an infinite and [i'n(y)o?om?r?b?l]
 probability, willingly mixing
 yourself in all particles of life; you are of
 infinite scintillae; that blend
 into; the “special purpose”; that you
 is urbane, decipherable, and vestal
 becoming a fertile soil, to accept
 those ill wills and innumerable sins
 of humanity, all whom have broken the trust
 of that which was given…
 impurity therefore, is humankind’ “Portae Lucis” 
 for in the realization of;
 you gain your last chance
 for a one time, "Contact with Eternity"
 you are but dirty and
 impure and infertile; I, have cried
 upon my friend; this barren desert
 begging to become, a participle
 of a fertile land; enabled to produce
 squalls and outcomes, and sublimed sulfur
 I will enjoy, these powerful urges, these
 lovingly nudged immoralities within me
 and when, I finish with the each of you
 I shall enjoy a long and lovely “Desert Sorcery”
 verdancy, will be the [?ks'pe? tri?e?t] of thee
 across this entire Earth; out of me
 the sons and daughters of inequity will be judged
 and their eternal ends will be welcomed
 each of those who is as Adam, and Eve; will be left
 out of a home, upon this Eden’ mothered globe
 you, who have made burgoo of your lives
 know this to be your truth
 those who have suffered the dirt and impurity
 of the oppressors will be made free, instantaneously!
 Oh my lord! Once again, remake me as thee!
 and reproduce me, as the very last; God Particle!

Details | Michael Walkerjohn Poem

Rosicrucian Utopia

“God of all beings
 God of all life
 in the humanity we
 are dreaming of:
 Politicians are profoundly humanistic and
 strive to serve the common good;
 Economists manage state finances with
 discernment and in the interest of all;
 Scientists are spiritualistic and seek
 their inspiration in the Book of Nature;
 Artists are inspired and express the beauty and
 purity of the Divine Plan in their works;
 Physicians are motivated by love for
 their fellow-beings and treat both
 the soul and the body;
 Misery and poverty have vanished
 for everyone has what
 one needs to live happily;
 Work is not regarded as a chore
 it is looked at as a source
 of growth and well-being;
 Nature is considered to be the most
 beautiful temple of all, and animals
 are considered to be our brothers and
 sisters on the path of evolution;
 A World Government composed
 of the leaders of all nations
 working in the interest
 of all humanity
 has come into existence
 Spirituality is an ideal and a way of life
 which springs forth from a
 Universal Religion, founded more upon
 the knowledge of divine laws than
 upon the belief in God;
 Human relations are founded upon love
 friendship, and community, so that
 the whole world lives in peace and harmony.”

 read a few more books, and you too, can find higher words of wisdom and
 humanity... although it appears this consciousness dwells only in a book... sorry
 state of affairs for the mockery, that you monkeys, are making of your Creator
 Father...

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Naturality

by Michaelw1two

 Some petty people
 wear masks of beautiful skin
 then, the truth reveals

May 2013

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Apanthropinization

by Michaelw1two

My question, draws upon my emptiness,
withdrawn into an endless void in mind;
this presence’s gist, a thoughtless mist,
the future is obscure, and lost to what was mine;
eternity stalled, what does one mime,
will health be shorn, will soul be given time;
My question grows, does certainty exist,
that a wounded spirit does indeed so heal;
upon what promise does this thought persist,
will efforts made be futile, or become my daily meal;
alias this painful loneliness, my calm the fates resist,
what depth is reached within, time’s passing will reveal;
My question, remains unanswered, I call out to all,
does anyone care to answer, can anyone console;
these wounds to soul, this heart swallowed whole,
this flesh once strong, now weakening beyond control;
in human terms, with humane concerns, of human soul,
your thoughts I troll, your assistance, I enroll.

Apanthropinization n 1880 -1880 
withdrawal from human concerns or the human world

Details | Michael Walkerjohn Poem

Friendships Value

by Michaelw1two

Inspired by the word works of Fox Poole


 A close friend is silver,
 a true friend holds heart’s gold;
 only such friends stay with you,
 everyone else turns cold;
 memories carry us forward,
 filling lives with joy;
 building bridges between hearts,
 that some may seek to destroy;
 to that one good friend,
 who caused me to be blessed;
 your compassion, always available,
 for moments when I needed rest;
 your honest love and kindness,
 life’s ability to ease and console;
 making me seem better,
 uplifting my troubled soul;
 your encounters bring me profits,
 my cheerfulness chimes real and sincere;
 causing my moods to shimmer directly,
 this is friendship I hold so dear;
 this earth is limited and finite,
 likewise this void of cyberspace;
 but know daily, that I lift you up,
 to impart into you, god’s grace;
 heaven’s day then, is that paradise,
 as down here comes to an end;
 our time, the greatest of treasures,
 made in you, my soul's fate found friend.

May 2013

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Echoing Storm

by Michaelw1two

 Thought, how resounding it is,
 now that everyone is thinking
 mentation drums as mantra,
 at once each considers linking
 reason deemed illogical,
 blessed now with national rethinking
 purpose gathered within this storm,
 save our lives from sinking.

 Political misdirection's blind US,
 to the nature of this assault
 improprieties pervade the eye,
 as it strengthens through default
 weaken do the knees of all,
 as guile and greed reign to a fault
 freedom bled of denotation,
 becomes a society’s burial vault.

 Dedication to the sphere of peace,
 abandons favor of our time
 replacing is freedom's abdomen,
 ruining goodwill whilst in its prime
 boasting blubbering fuels the wind,
 infuriating is its rapid climb
 rhetoric barbs of poison fear,
 drive weak minds to morbid crimes.

 Echoes of peace, goodwill, morality,
 vanish in this swirling beast
 accrue does this wickedness,
 as we are whipped until deceased
 social clime succumbs to hate,
 common people soon are fleeced
 timorousness rules the moment,
 result, the best become the least.

 Asleep have become the masses,
 as the few control life’s flow
 living sliced to minimal pieces,
 at once in chorus all say whoa!
 condones in wild shrieking howls,
 even life can’t clear escrow
 extinction now approaching,
 our doom delivered quid pro quo.

Jan 2010

Details | Michael Walkerjohn Poem

Cosmic Orgasm

We know not
what to do right
the moon, stars
and planets
all vanish
into divine bliss