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  Aug 2017 Mark Upright
Poetoftheway
"the ever shifting light of ourselves"
(a poem such as this)

For Jamadhi V.

<•>
8/28/17

at 11:09am,
the phrase arrests itself, then assertive,
ungently demanding fulfillment,
implanted, it cares not my whereabouts,
it is a child~phrase, inexact, mysterious,
wanting its breast milk feeding immediate
no matter where my presence visible

but to me, it stinks of familiarity,
for my shifts, my redrawn shapes,
exhausting, giving me cause to grieve,
write poems such as this,
which I regret both
before~after conception~completion,
written in a fevered misery of fervor,
hoping,
no one ever likes it and its witnessing

as light ever shifts,
it consumes, extinguishes, reignites,
poorly lit, revealing dregs and dustbins

better then to sit in the darkness
the one you call,
getting it over with...

6:00pm
<•>

~~~~~~~~

*the swelling and the spume


for Lucy:

who gave me the title, three poems, a compliment, and the X Factor {inspiration}
~~~
the spume, the sea foam concentrate,
a greener white
by the the salt and the souls of the
million dead organisms,
that are are the compost of its formation,
it, watches the poet, who watches the spume,
come ashore for its final act of
immolation by evaporation

which is why the random act of
an unseen ministering force,
fills my ears with humbling glory of
Samuel Barber's Agnus Dei,^
my fresh reminder that this swelling chest
in this temporary abode of mine,
by the sea, passage is prepaid for my
expiration by evaporation too,
all lambs march to the sea,
returning to spume
~
Lyrics to Agnus Dei:
^ Alleluia Alleluia
For our Lord God Almighty reigns
Alleluia Alleluia
For our Load God Almighty reigns
Alleluia
Holy Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
You are Holy
Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Amen

~~~~~~

"may all my lost lovers haunt me"

for Vinnie Brown

even your kindergarten crushes?

what burdens you seek to retain,
the edgy border of delicious and pain is a raggedy cut line,
as lost lovings rhymes with duality

Once upon a time,
a middle aged man
left the woman he married,
the one who drained and cruel reigned
over the destruction of his-dreams
for one accidentally stumbled into,
the love who blurred his edges as well,
between forgotten happiness and
pain so bad when she grew tired
of his life's complications and the
valises of drama,
she left him,
weeping on the corner of Broadway and 83rd Street

was that 20, 30 years ago?
a memory
from no matters land
but
the physical ache that marred the hearth in the chest for months and months,
sent him to the doc who smiled sweetly
but gave him, had no, no relief for busted grownup hearts
that had normal  EKG's

and that remains a treasured affirmation to this day of
life's capacity to love that comes with an ingrown danger
of never forgetting

did you know the French outlawed the use of the term
Mademoiselle in '12 (Mlle.)?

I loved that salutation,
calling my one true lovers
with the soft feminism of that address

and still do

and you want to recall
kindergarten crushes?

Mister Vinnie
possesses a lovely contradiction,
holding onto
lost lover sickness
that lives on in good love poems

this my new found poet
is how that he, this aching heart,
fast approaching his shore line for one last return and final departure
repays a sweet compliment,
from one who complements
another man's lovely's insane desire to
never forget any of it

~~~~~~*

reading love poetry and listening to
Joni M.,
at 3:09AM
never wise,
but always full of hindsight
  Aug 2017 Mark Upright
SøułSurvivør
Here's something you don't see everyday. Although I've seen it a few times before on my street... A homeless man pulling a bicycle which is attached to the most astounding construct! Made of bicycle wheels and plastic webbing, chicken wire and aluminum piping, this huge mobile container for tin cans, and whatever this homeless individual can scrounge to resell, is almost the size of a garbage truck! And carries probably hundreds of pounds of aluminum cans.

In constant danger from cars and trucks, this is an outstanding testament to human ingenuity and dogged determination. The man marches on, stopping occasionally to take a container to dumpsters looking for cans. Whatever he can find.

I asked him if he needed something to eat or drink. He just smiled and shook his head. "I need to move on." And I realized he probably takes advantage of the nighttime to do his searching, as it is too hot during the day to do so. I smile and wave and wish him blessings.

If I ever feel like I am put upon in this life, I should feel ashamed. This man has shamed me utterly. I've invited him up to my porch in the past. Giving him food and drink. He is a believer. And I've never met a more cheerful brother in the Lord Jesus Christ! But he doesn't take any credit for his outstanding ingenuity and Drive. He gives the glory to God. I have tears in my eyes as I write this. He was also an addict and finds it very difficult to find a place to live due to his past. So he sleeps on the streets and does what he needs to do to survive. And survive he does!

I say a prayer for this stalwart. His name is Ben. Will you join me in my prayers (good thoughts)? I think he deserves them, don't you?

♡ Catherine
I haven't been on site because my father had a new procedure done. He is also in need of prayer, good thoughts. I come on occasionally to check my messages and do a little reading. But I honestly don't have a lot of time. Thanks for understanding.

GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
  Aug 2017 Mark Upright
Nat Lipstadt
for Harlon Rivers

the river potion,
the river portent,
the river potent

it is all of these and not one

he is bank sided,
observing the false idols,
the image mirrored
in the glass of the river

transfigured molecularly
he becomes something ferried frothily, forcefully

as if a twig
or a small thing of human manufacture,
an object tossed up airborne-repeatedly

his poetry:
the clash of particles at the many junctions
of objects and water, eddies and the currents,
ceaselessly circumnavigating,  
searching revisionary pathways

directed,
but randomized,
prisoner of the flows,
servant to the wind's directives and the
earths magnetic indivisible undulating waves

thinking,
this life,
its unsteady gait, 
the irreverent wavering of drunkenness
resultant from potent potions,
portents of inopportune position

in him,
my own histories, 
my poetic recordings
also become
water borne,
watermarked,
replayed back for me,
for erasure, censure, closure
and rededication

this River
is a tapestry,
a torn map,
drawn on broken shards
of slivered water,
living with all the others

but we,
are the untitled,
we,
are the un-entitled,
and he is the
Rivers

<•>
Oct. 20, 2016

harlon is one of the best poets here
if you are new to his writing, be sure to tell him honestly what you think...

his work can be found under
https://hellopoetry.com/harlon-rivers/  
Uncover him, and discover yourself within

2013
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/444023/dear-mr-harlon-rivers/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1020738/winter-whispers/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1913140/in-the-river-of-good-company/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1855694/the-slow-death-of-a-poet/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1995383/traces-of-youa-fathers-tribute/

2014
Harlon Rivers:
http://hellopoetry.com/-harlon-rivers/
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.
Dawn of  Lighten

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833151/a-walk-with-tonya-maria/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1924604/ode-to-a-brimful-poetwith-a-twist/
and of course<
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1954256/drinkin-mr-coffee-and-cheap-*****/
  Aug 2017 Mark Upright
Melissa S
We are members of a poetic society
A unique learning class
We may or not be good at other things
But mentally we kick ***

We value all our words
Cherish our thoughts not heard
We are on the road to self discovery
Choose only words that we feel tell our story

We see the world differently than most
The world makes us.... then breaks us
So we write for survival and to give hope

Some say our heads are in the clouds
It is safer there in our own creative playground
We are miles up and never want to come down

No use for conformity
We escape the constraints of uniformity
We break out from the box ~ find new ground
*And Seize the day ~ Unbound
Mark Upright Aug 2017
~~~

write the scriptures,
the Book of Me,
with authorship
exposed on the books cover,
of every word have ever writ

flawed, ignored, rejected,
necessary to self-publish
upon the unpapered internet,
where words are ionized

I take an oath,
self-administered,
oath sworn upon mine own scripture,
testify before a jury of my peers,
me, myself and I

what you read,
is not imaginary,
I am real,
you are realizing

each of us has a truthful name,
in spite of acronymic disguises employed,
and wearing it,
here, upon this.....line dotted,
place my neck,
ready for
the executioner


you
~~~

October 24, 2015
7:20 am
  Nov 2015 Mark Upright
ogdiddynash
~~~

early Saturday morn marked,
looks as if it will be a as-scheduled,
chill fall brisk one, a November blend,
sun wants in, but clouds say,
uh-uh, no way Jose,
yet the yellow star insists, persists

the bed so coy, suggests a ploy


stay with me, stay with her,
ready steady in this hearts hearth,
let this Saturday be an Ogdiddynasherday


*the blonde deep sleeps,
covers up to the nose,
she doesn't know
and never will

that the edges of my eyes filled with tears,
watery from amniotic fluid,
a byproducts of this days first time ever
birthday

a moment morning marked, colored by
early morn re-readings of prior poems,
of darling love mended with tender,
writ expressly for her,
over the years of being
together~tethered

soon that other pair (of eyes) will open,
in a new way,
anew the day,
a whole new world,
a seventh day resting,
unaware of my steadfast guardian,
over-watching protection

will inform her of the Saturday menu,
stay in bed with her obedient server-man,
performing continual catch up
on who we are and why we be a we,
with out ever thinking
that's a good idea,
just like this poem came unplanned,
just an unscheduled day in bed,
woman and man,
with a new poem snuggling
in between
November 7, 2015
7:02 am
nyc
  Nov 2015 Mark Upright
SE Reimer
~

dusk brings a chill
o’er the ocean,
this secret stage
where twilight fades
in regent haze;
transformed, replaced
with slow drift,
swirling, mist
softly rolling in.
above, the sand,
a salt-washed beach.
a brimming tide
awaits release
of curtain rising
far above, and there,
like bio-luminescence,
she shimmers in the ether;
ancient existence,
always with us,
seldom seen,
her light serene.
a fresh emergence
each moonless night,
a shimmering of colors,
like a nightly bow
an arch of
color-filled delight.
though this night rests,
not drawn and taut,
exuding peacefulness;
her horse in all its glory,
feeding in her pastured stars.
drawing, telling
children wonder-eyed
of her richness,
of her treasures,
loving, storied skies,
light years in the making.
her curtain lifted,
these moments served,
to but a few.
a sacred showing
to our breath-taking,
memory-making eyes.
hovering in her milky skin,
she dazzles, beckoning;
her adieu at sun’s return,
at our rising disappears.
awaits another
night's re-appearing,
her celestial flow
like a river of
imagination, rippling,
much to our surprise,
a gifting
to awakened eyes,
never captured,
only living on...
in memories,
in moments raptured.

~

*post script.

inspired by Mathew Newman,
of Mathew Newman Photography
who captures the night sky so skillfully,
of the milky way rising above the pacific ocean
along southern oregon's secret beach.
his name for the photo that inspired this,
"Celestial Flow", of course.

sorry, i am not permitted to include links
but simply add www. to both these below and you will find what inspired me:

facebook.com/MatthewNewmanPhotography/
or
matthewnewmanphotography.com/wp-content/gallery/gallery-1/CelestialFlowWeb.jpg

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