Posts Tagged ‘life



11
Nov
16

Rememberance 2016


The following poem I wrote back in 2012 to acknowledge on this day November 11th, the fallen; those who gave of themselves in service to the freedoms we enjoy to this day, however, as much as it is said in tribute, it is meant to reflect the brutal waste of lives given to the folly of those to whom we choose to lead us; those often, whom avoid the true hardships they wittingly impose on the Peoples of their Nation. 

poppy1

Remembrance?

We hail courageous heroes of war; but for whom is the true enemy at bastion door; for each nation’s fallen soldier is a heart made sore; and to whom do the real gains amass, while the bereaved tally the deathly score?

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To be of common purpose in mind; is not to be to true reasons blind; for the failings within humankind; for the atrocities inflicted upon its own kind; appeased by pageant and ceremony to remind; but in truth’s end, to repetition, it is endlessly inclined.

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Spilling mental guts upon the literary floor; thousands pass but simply ignore, for their lack of interest to what may touch their shore; yet find the time to whisper ridicule and messenger to deplore; yielding incessant ignorance to reason, to endure.

11
Nov
16

Passing of Leonard Cohen


 

cohen

News today of the passing of  Leonard Cohen, a great and inspirational artist to many poets, song writers and, performers over the last several decades; a contributor to the Arts who will be greatly missed. A true Icon to creative persons around the globe.

In remembrance to his significant contribution:

Inspiration

I watched
I listened

A humble man

Creator of words

Magical expression

Inspiring thought

Stimulating senses

To survive his years
In poetry
Or
In song
His Mission
To inspire
An icon
To poetry’s
Throng
Through words
Forever
Lives on

Leonard Cohen

1970 – Leonard Cohen

Reflections of a turbulent time long past
Emerges again for all to witness at last
The personal story of an artist then great
A talent time’s passage could not fade
His verse of song pronounced and deep
Speaking to the truth of love all of us seek
Leonard Cohen’s poetry somberly wise, reflective
Portraiture of life seen with unique perspective
Gained by the artistry of this unique insightful man
Immortalizing a presence we still struggle to understand

28
Oct
16

Glory’s Mask


youths-mask

21
Oct
16

Devilish Transactions


Image result for Devil's agreement Pact

Tomorrow’s walk toward yesterday dreams
To attain prospect of things desired, gleaned
Are filled with perils , more often, not seen;
Rendering personal cost beyond obscene.

This knowledge should give an advantage clue
To question how, through one’s life, to best pursue
Enrichment, by every nature, offered up for view;
To be cautious of its ultimate price and/or services, due.

Agreement Pacts, purportedly scribed, since days of old
Promising fame and riches for the sale of one’s soul
Are devilishly hidden or ignored by those so bold
As to venture into this misguided folly, though so told.

Much evidence lays as circumstantial waste:
The lives given to such transactions with unthinking haste;
Their derelict, dying bodies strewn, abounds this earthly place
Only to be ignored by newbies, believing, they’re a different case.

20
Oct
16

Birth’s Birthday


birthday

Are the roots of my behavior anchored in the thought of not knowing the ancestry to my beginning, lost to the passage of time, expunged forever from the frail, failing minds of those who preceded this presence?

That I should walk blindly into the unknown struggling to gain handle-hold of the truth that will propel me forward unimpeded; rendering concrete proof to this troubled passage steeped in the evidence of success?

That a modicum of recognition edges its way beyond the shadow of the spotlight’s beam diligently focused upon they who are deemed to warrant the energy?

Are these the asking of one selfishly deprived; looking, striving to be realized in the flesh of this time; a time that is ticking ever faster toward its end unresolved to the want emblemized by these words spoken?

Or am I just feeling the anc’s of the coming anniversary of my birth’s birthday?

19
Oct
16

Tears of Cotton


 

tumbleheart

Tumbling under the tumbleweed,
Watching life from body recede,
Praying for forgiveness to bleed,
Knowing not what truth to believe.

Heaven holds promise to life given,
Forgetting awareness of promises driven,
That life is meant for those bent on liven,
What chance is there they are in fact riven?

Hell provides an excuse to excuse,
Those given to others to abuse,
Or ultimatum to refuse,
What amounts to a  pile of garbage refuse.

Darkness hides from glorious light,
Deceiving what is most given to fright,
To harness the strength to give flight,
Especially when darkness arrives in the night.

What ails in the heart is not to be forgotten,
In the end, it transcends what grows rotten,
That’s why tears are left to be sought then,
Absorbed in ‘kerchiefs, made of fine cotton.

11
Oct
16

What Monumental Event?


PROMISE BOUND

Awakening to this world increasingly in disarray,
When will this needless suffering go away?
Cluster bombs, extreme weather taking innocent lives,
When will we take serious the global, human, deathly cry?

Who are these leaders that make the charge?
To what end do they allow this to go so far?
To allow suffering on such monumental scale,
Can they not see their deemed leadership, disastrously fail?

Have decades of brutal war on every horrendous scale,
Not taught humanity, this is a defeatist’s path to curtail?
Trillions of dollars expended to advance this inflicted pain,
All to the benefit of those, out of harm’s way, to richly gain.

Political platitudes and ceremonial remembrances become insults
To those willingly giving their lives, to remedy these egregious faults.
Expending the future of humanity, being lost to needless death and strife;
What monumental event will it take to bring back a loving, harmonious life?

09
Oct
16

emotion’s thoughts


 

dreamer

Zeal

Emotions exposed like a banana peeled;
Love, hate, anxiety; meant to make moments real
Yet uncertain of how they are truly meant to feel,
Nor to the ways, by them, to confidently deal;
Giving rise to multitude of drugs designed to purposely steal;
To subjugate life’s true essence; its spontaneity, its zeal.

 

Fantasy’s Gain

Lost in a fantasy of the mind

Perfection of reason one can find

No blemish to purpose of any kind

A worldly presence – so sublime

 

Love’s emotion in all its essence

Nature’s beauty beyond transcendence

Breath to life sparkles with effervescence

Hormones rage as in adolescence

 

Brief though this experience may be

It is a moment to be felt, to see

For it is a state easy to conceive

It is for all who live and breathe

Human emotions at times lost to reality’s pain

Often taken to lengths insane

Let the wondrous power of the mind reign

By resigning to a moment, to a fantasy’s gain.

 

Singularity of Being

Existence is a cocoon of my making

Detached from passions of others

Numbed by avoidance of emotion

Sustained by the singularity of being

Absorbed into self-absorption

 

Abyss

The parameters that define this life are shrinking.

I am down to the base figure of one.

Looking outward only – not connecting

Floating in a void consumed with others

Singular digits comprised of the same emotion

But void of the fraternal element

Wishing and wanting yet non-committal

Expending time like an abundant liquid

Frittering away what we have – are

In anticipation of a greater dream

Fear is the glue that binds

The unknown –

In death comes the answer

To a life spent questioning

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

02
Oct
16

Perceived Truths


clock

Perpetuated traditions and beliefs can close a mind
To more fruitful alternative out there to seek, find;
The threat is to make the thinking mind blind,
Thwarting real, substantive advancement for Humankind.

Futures are founded upon much-antiquated thought,
Historical records illustrate from this, hardship is often bought;
Wars, famine and ultimate death of many are the results got;
Are these the outcomes for Human advancement sought?

When will humanity finally understand, learn
Ill-gotten wisdom is best to ignore and spurn?
If the desire for goodness for all humanity to yearn;
Maybe its time from some perceived `truths’ to forever turn.

01
Oct
16

Jeffery’s Story Tale


beuatybw

The scene opens in a small, bi-gay sex bar.

A very good looking young male in his late twenties is sitting at a small cocktail table surrounded by an equally good-looking and hip group of young men and women

Enters John; a good looking and in shape late forties male, joins the small group intent on listening to the young man tell a story. A story centered on the escapades of a former lover who, using his unusual and incredibly good looks, was able to charm the pants off any daddy. But Jeffery, the name of the young man in question, did not waste his talents on just any ol’ daddy. The boy had a sixth sense when it came to smelling out the rich ones. `I swear’, exclaimed the young man profoundly; `Jeffery, that little bastard, could walk through a crowd of potential daddies and, not only filter out the richest of them but, the hottest looking too.’ . Thus concluding this part of his story, he turns his attention gaze to John.

Not loosing a blink, the young man locks eyes with John; he continues his tale that for some unknown reason, seemingly hypnotically, entrances John’s attention. John becomes spell bound by the twist and turns of young man’s captivating story.

`The last time I saw Jeffery was right here in this bar. Unfortunately though, he met with a rather bad end but, however, not quite as unfortunate as it was for the lover he met that night.’ He concludes as he seductively leans forward, closer to John’s now, wide-eyed face.

Fully intrigued and captivated, John demands to know more of `this Jeffery’s’ escapade and how it all turned out. To which the young man offered to tell more but, only if John were to buy him a fresh drink and in the privacy of one of the secluded booths to the back of the bar.

Comfortably ensconced in the secluded booth with a fresh gin martini in hand, the young man picks up on the tale of young Jeffery’s seedy escapade: `It all started rather innocently. Jeffery, in his usual captivating way, was unleashing one of his unfathomable tales of romp and drug infused sexcapades to a group of his friends when he encountered Harold. To show how lucky Jeffery was, horse shoes I tell yah, anyway, there could have been countless other wealthy people in the bar that night and low and behold, doesn’t he land Harold. Harold Bartholomew the already famous attorney who too, was the sole heir to his family’s amassed fortunes. Not millions but billions!

The waiter momentarily interrupts the young man’s story telling by serving up a bottle of expensive red wine with two glasses John had ordered, `Harold was instantly enamored by Jeffery. Who wouldn’t be, he was absolutely beautiful. Starting with his blonde, wavy head of hair that had all the signs of exclusive salons and his radiant, hot Mediterranean-tan skin purchased by his most recent rich lover, could melt butter never mind your heart.

Fully entrance and captivated by the young man’s story-telling, he and John spent the rest of the evening together. After finishing another bottle of expensive wine, John could not hold back and asked the young man, whose name up to that moment he didn’t even know, inviting him back to his private penthouse suite.

It wasn’t until the two had made their way to John’s suite atop of Trump Tower, the most expensive piece of real-estate in all of Manhattan, lying naked in the luxurious, king-size bed replete with Egyptian cotton sheets, sipping champagne glasses of Dom Perignon did John thing to ask the name of the young man with whom he had just had wild passionate sex.

`Who me?’ the young man replied casually, `You’re obviously a smart man, I thought you would have figured that out by now, it’s Jeffery. Is that a surprise?’ he concluded coyly as he watched John confoundedly fall back in utter shock and surprise.

Not saying another word, John ceremoniously pours the last of the Dom Perignon into Jeffery’s half empty fluted crystal glass acknowledging his naive stupidity.

The End




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