From time to time a poem
The Simple Things
by Edgar A. Guest
I would not be too wise--so very wise
That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,
And let the glare of wisdom blind my eyes
To humble people and their humble needs.
I would not care to climb so high that I
Could never hear the children at their play,
Could only see the people passing by,
And never hear the cheering words they say.
I would not know too much--too much to smile
At trivial errors of the heart and hand,
Nor be too proud to play the friend the while,
Nor cease to help and know and understand.
I would not care to sit upon a throne,
Or build my house upon a mountain-top,
Where I must dwell in glory all alone
And never friend come in or poor man stop.
God grant that I may live upon this earth
And face the tasks which every morning brings
And never lose the glory and the worth
Of humble service and the simple things.
People promote reasoning à la carte; for rationality is not the start.
From the non-rational we have feeling; emotions are facts, and they're revealing,
these we rationalise and justify; our feelings with reasoning do ally.
The want to rationalise is desire; they both, the non-and-rational, require,
one another, they arise mutually; they're distinct, two sides of the same coin, see?
Rationalising what's not rational; is the best way to be irrational.
Why do you want to drink?, because it's fun; that's feeling, we also get to know one,
another, this is a reason we use. The quickest way the rational will lose,
is when it grapples the non-rational; why some feeling?, this ideational,
decoding of our experience can't; with rational comprehension supplant,
our qualitative existence, in this; rational thinking falls in an abyss.
It's like taking and breaking a squiggle; with a net of squares, thus on this wiggle,
order is imposed onto chaos and; likewise the rational, though thinking grand, thinks it answers itself, but a model; always subtracts from the world we noddle
Kingfisher. All you can do is
Be there where he is like to appear, and
Often nothing much happens;
There is space, silence and
No visible signs, only the
Knowledge that he’s been there
And may come again.
Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,
You have been prepared
But when you’ve almost stopped
Expecting it, a flash of brightness
Ann Lewin - Waiting for the Kingfisher, Disclosure
A warm embrace, a familiar path,
Pain, its hot and bright
Striking bursts of light
Darkness seeps out
It engulfs the moment
Shields your eyes
Colours the world.
And your heart stops.
A clock run down
A stalled train
A puff of smoke
Chasing that dragon into the emptiness that is your mind, your heart, your soul
Just a little pain
Then no more...
No one is coming to save you
The illustrated girl sat on the step,
as I was walking by my eyes fixed kept
staring wide open on two dice drawn
on her back, almost posing for me, gone
was my sense of time, dice began ticking
under the hand of a voluptuous blonde sitting
in glass, smiling at me, then winking,
avoiding a flirt with an artist rendition
of fantasy, I try to turn, but fixed intuition,
I must look further into the illustration.
Now all I see is this etching on the back,
of a beautiful girl, her back muscles track
with my steadfast eyes never twitching
away, moving the scenes as stories bewitching
unfold before me, pulling me in to her
tempting me, to the blonde in the glass stir
the dice, I fall into the story, casino sounds
and laughter seep into my mind, bounds
to Vegas fantasy drunken gamblers on
hot showgirls flaunting over money gone.
The blonde in the glass tells me to enter
into her world and let go of my center,
to embrace her body drenched in drinking,
as the dice rolls on the long table clicking.
She holds me tight, my breath strains
under her strong embrace, try to maintain
composure, try to escape, jolted tear
back to the steps at the park where I stare
at the girl's toned back, drawings of dice
now silent and still in the curious entice.
I walk to see the illustrated girl's face
warm smile greeting, my reluctant embrace.
She greeted me first, she sat alone,
in dark afternoon shadows atone
in her eyes, "Don't be afraid", she said,
Did it show?, I thought, caught, instead
of passing, I stopped and approached her...
She asked softly for me to sit
for a moment, Goth girls scare the wits
out of me, but subtle enticed to get closer,
my fear gave way to sensuality, chose her,
fantasies bloom in my head, can't think,
I need to run away, to clear my link
to reality, she spoke slowly,
I froze, not able to move wholly.
She asked to be taken to a bar,
I believe I responded, my mind afar,
"Just around the corner." she whispered,
in my silent ear, I nearly floated, secured
not within, as she removed the key
to the Gothic bar behind the first alley,
tucked between two gothic steeples.
She opened the door to darkened people...
She introduced me to her Goth girl friends,
I was polite and strained a smile bends,
They touched me and held me and gave me a drink,
but instead of affection, it seemed longing, think,
I need to leave, surrounded by manipulation,
I was held down to a chair, no comfort, compulsion
to fight, to get up and escape, her soft voice, "Relax,
and stay for a while", she laughed, english lacks,
in a small Romanian accent.... I deepen dread...
"Don't you remember, my darling?"
There was silence, like a wasp sting,
in my chest, I felt knots in my gut,
tighten, and fear in my throat, cut
my sense of reality to dark-light images,
"See, my sweet," old accent encourages,
Did I know them from a distant time?
How could I forget such a wondrous sign,
of dark friendship creamy soft luring sublime?
"Close your eyes and look into your deepest soul,
unmask your self in your darkest role,
for you are our Lord, our loving master
for we adore you... your heart beats faster,
I can hear it, breath my love, conceive your purpose,
control your desire, endure your hunger, your thirst does
drive you to settle your debts, your enemies bow
before you, we will fight for you and never allow
them to tread, to crush your kind nature."
I listened to her soothing voice, feelings
moving inside, I stood from the chair, reeling
with thoughts, I walked to the door,
the exit, my escape, freedom from goth lore,
My hand supported my weight against the frame
of the doorway, outside was my normal sane
reality, frozen, not moving, only thoughts streaming
in, I waited and saw, I breathed and knew, steaming
was my skin, moist hot, I turned and looked into
her eyes, and smiled, and came back in, to
the Goth bar where I sat and recalled old
times suppressed, undressed I felt, newly bold....
He could not hold me
if it was all
he ever wanted
we never met
we never will
and ever drifting
further and further
While i cling to the threads
of what i wanted us to be
I came to this thread because i found a cool-ass poem that i wanted to share. But then i saw this post and i had to respond to it. I remember you, “User22414”, and this picture that you put here is exactly how i always imagined you. I don't know the specific details of why you left but what i do know is that i have a great deal of affection for you and that i miss you. I dont think you’ll ever see this but this is for you, inspired by your poem...
The curse of those of us who love
Is that loves’ so often unrequited
The curse of passion’s that its uncontrolled
and usually uninvited
The curse of hoping’s that it leaves
Hearts exposed to being slighted
The curse of being tender is
that we’re the one who’ll be ignited.
We’ve been here many times and yet
It seems the lessons’ are never learned
We’re angry at empty apologies
And sick of being spurned
The more we give the more we know
That through pain our rewards will eventually be earned
And that our failures have built up the credit
To cover the bonds for which we’ve yearned
“To be impeccable means to put your life on the line in order to back up your decisions, and then to do quite a lot more than your best to realize those decisions.”