Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
K Balachandran Jul 2018
dreamy blue mountains,
soaked in rained millenniums;
mystery’s magnet!
B Young Apr 2018
Welcome.
To the Age of major gains,
But no progress.
Abundant selfies,
But harshly any selflessness.
Delectable boomerangs of delicious dinners,
While many suffer starving in foreign winters.
Will
Likes
Hearts
Views
And
Shares
Become the end-all-be-all of the winners?
Chicken Dinner
Chicken Dinner
Chicken
Dinner
C
H
   I          R
    C       E
     K     N
      E    N
       N  I
        D
Willow shade Feb 2018
I consecrate all guilt and prohibitions
which make me live and only life is sacred.
All letters of my poems are crying to reveal,
but in my despair is kept my secret.

And this secret is uncovered day by day,
You have even body and eyes, now I detect...
I feel your moving lips as my name flows down,
with your whole existence, you are more perfect!

Thus, I daily commit a suicide to live,
I will keep living for the sufferers like me.
When you lend your hand to me I feel as an army
And your all amities deeply delight me.

I am losing my mind because of longing
It brings the next phase of delirium.
I am being captured in a weird time zone
Even days are passing as a millennium.
Elise Jackson Feb 2018
eight years is either a long time or a short time for something
some days it feels like there have only been a few days in between
it feels like a millennium on others

i think eight years is both good
short and long
for things to change
occur
begin

sure
a lot has changed for me in the past eight years
but sometimes it feels like nothing has
just a vast forest that never grows

some days i feel twelve again
others i feel that i'm eighty

but somehow certain things can stop me from feeling either
and make me feel good for just a few moments
and remind me that no matter where i go in life
i'll always have this moment
these things
that i used to die for and have moved on from

i'll always have them
and i'll always feel that way the first time i accessed them
nostalgia can be my enemy at times.
olivia g Aug 2017
Wearing Converse ‘cause we’re All Stars,
leaping rails and busting through the knees of last year’s jeans,

Not sleeping, just dreaming for when it can all start over again.

But without the old, the exes and the oh’s,
how can we say we really knew the new?
Lucius Furius Aug 2017
January 1, 1000

Year One-thousand, January One,
starts the new millennium.
The villein, Jacques, in Reims,
wakes to find his world unchanged.
His hut stinks; his flour's wormy.
He fears God's wrath, but trusts His mercy.
Walled in by his community,
set in Christian certainty;
by their fireplace, with his family, sitting,
he plans the plots he'll plant come spring
The stars above him do not move;
he knows God's power --and His love.

                                                          ­                                        
1118

Others loathe such conformity:
their minds and spirits must be free.
Tutor Pierre finds knowledge increase
in the arms of his pupil Héloise.
Risking life and reputation,
they learn a different conjugation.
(L'Université de Paris's great philosophe
and the canon's niece --in reckless love.)
You think the danger overstated?
Let me remind you that Abélard was castrated
--and the **** confined to a nunnery ...
whence she wrote most eloquently.
("Though I should think of God, I think of thee.")  


225

Dear Francis,
I hear that when you visited St. Peter's
you exchanged clothes with a beggar
and stood all day at the door of the church;
that you asked the people of Gubbio
to be kind to the wolf who was eating their sheep;
that you call birds your "sisters" and fire, your "brother";
that you would have us give all that we own to the poor....
--Perplexed in Perugia

Dear Perplexed,
I ask only that you see God's hand in all creation:
wolf, *****, flower, stone --
God gives to each His rain and His sun.
What man is in the eyes of the Lord,
that I am --and nothing more.


1517

Martin Luther says you can't buy salvation;
the individual conscience is the only true religion.
Of intermediaries, he'll have none;                              
Man is responsible to God alone.
The Bible, being God's holy Word,
must, by each Christian, be read and understood.
Humble toil is a service of God
far surpassing the holiness of monks.
God is terrible in his majesty;
by faith in God, are we made free.  


1611

[London; Shakespeare addresses assembled friends as he
retires to Stratford;... a mysterious stranger rebuts.]

"Despite it surely not being my intention
to slight the worth of imagination,
to doubt the value of our fictive craft,                                          
there can be no question:  in their import,
the actual deeds of actual men
must, perforce, surpass the disembodied pen.
This [pointing] is merely men upon a stage;
these, merely words I've placed on the page."

"Master Shakespeare, I beg to differ:
it is your words which will live forever.
When fiery Phoebus ten million times
has run his course 'round rotund Earth, men will
still be astonished at Lear's great woe,
still sigh with Juliet for her Romeo."


1711

They've placed Monsieur Voltaire in prison.
This will not postpone the Age of Reason.
Men will speak and write as they see fit,        
be governed by laws and the intellect.
        

1783

[General Washington, at Annapolis, Maryland]

"My friends, I'm honored deeply,
by the faith which you here show in me,
your confidence that these qualities
which served so well in war might now
to governance be applied successfully.    

"I, myself, have doubts:
I fear that battle's clear, cold steel will be dulled
in the gauzy murk of diplomacy.
And though I were suited to this high estate most perfectly
still I should shrink from it.
I think of Caesar,
returning, triumphant, from Gaul,
his heart full of zeal for the good of his people,                  
who achieved much, but whose lordly rule
gave way to others far less wise....

"There's a name for a man raised above men as a god:
it's 'king'. I'll have no kings!

"Thus, I surrender to you,
the duly-elected representatives of the States,
the outward and visible sign of my authority:
this sword. Let the world take note
that these united States, born under tyranny's yoke,
shall, in word and deed, henceforth
be governed democratically."


July 27, 1890

Vincent finds his world has narrowed,
(--what wonders he'd seen in la lumière d'Arles!--)
all the things for which he's sorrowed--
rejection by his cousin Kee,
reliance on his brother's charity,
failure of his "painters' community"--
come welling up....
He walks to the field from which he'd come.
In his pocket, the letter he'll never mail.
The wheatfield he'd so recently painted.
In his pocket, by his chest,...
the gun.


July 16, 1945

[Robert Oppenheimer, near Alamagordo, New Mexico]

    If the radiance of a thousand suns
    were to burst into the sky at once,
    that would mirror the Mighty One's splendor....
    I am become Death --World-destroyer.
    --The Bhagavad Gita

Everything was so much clearer
when it seemed the Germans might get the thing first....
Now it's all so terribly muddy....
Who knows what these generals'll do with it.
...The radiance of a thousand suns....                                                         ­                                                 

That 100-foot tower --completely gone!...
If we didn't do it, someone surely would....
I am become Death --destroyer of Worlds.  


January 1, 2000

Year Two-thousand, January One,
starts the new millennium.
The sales-clerk, Jacques, in Reims,
wakes to find his world unchanged.
He's got Internet access! Two cars!
He doesn't fear the universe....
The only group he's part of
is guys who drink at the local bar....
He goes to church, but doesn't believe.
His job, his marriage --nothing is certain....
Even the stars above him move.
He knows God's power --but not His love.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF16.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems (https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
Shot out like a bullet...
Faster and Faster You go....
The Millennium Force Bleeds you through it's rails
Leaving your brain behind as your body does go....
A mean coaster with a fast temper...
It changes time like a time machine.....
As your mind returns as your body feels like it was shot full of nails.
Seated on an island.....
So Beautiful and Blue...Lakes surround it's Island.
Take a ride if you dare....
Since your the kind who doesn't mind to be shot far off the land....
A Hundred Miles up and then straight down...
As your body pukes out the fright...
Your brain kisses the ending....
Kissing the land
When your Vertigo leaves and finally allows you to stand.
Cedar Point is the place for rest and thrills.
You sleep like a rock.....
As your dreams shine and your body rests from fear's chills.
Steven Forrester Aug 2016
I've seen it all
Nations rise
While empires fall
And I realize
We're nothing
If not small
My soul
Has watched
And waited
Wearily
Wrestling
A restless mind
I find
There will always be time

And my soul endures

The passage of decades
Which become centuries
And centuries
Become millennia

And still my soul endures

I have popped up in history
Too many times
For me to mention

The common
Correlation
Correcting
This cosmic
Chaos
Cautiously
Catering
To a cannibalistic
Consciousness
Corrals me in contempt

But I'm content

I know and remember my lives
All of them
I see their memories
And I see their deaths
I see their enemies
Whenever I take a breath

I see monsters
And ravens
In my dreams

I feel those personalities
Pushing at my seams

A claim like this
I know
It's bold
And I will always endure

As the Millennium soul...
B Young Nov 2015
All us children of the Millennial
awaiting an omen,
seeking out the last augury,
weaving among the boomers
who present us with a forgery.

Stay strong, my children!
We are the last missionaries,
the last lost lovers,
are the rarest breed indeed,
above us a genuine gospel hovers.

Stay authentic, my friends!
Set out with unmatched veracity,
imperfection glistens these days but,
we see through the deceiving fog with rectitude,
we refuse to be mislead.

Steer the course, my children!
These maps made for us yield no
sensible shape or design when traced,
we forge our own compass.
Forgetting north south east west,
undulating inwards with a steady pace.

"We are the lovers, we are the last of our kind, so hold my hand and keep your chin up and I swear we'll be just fine."

We desire no recompense, only truth.
On sour soiled presidential soliloquies we muster strength again and again to chew, repeatedly breaking a tooth.

With roots above and branches below,
we capture our affections in nature's photo booth
but,
furrow our brows in a sordid mirror reflection.

Stay clean, my sweet princes!
Dart ahead to meet me and my words I will not mince.

Hold steadfast to the healing hope hovering above our masts,
steer this ship with steady hands,
fear not the undertow.

A voyage which is long and treacherous,
but this is no ship of floating fools.

Be proud, my children!
We have sailed successfully into the millennium,
leaving in our wake the outdated value systems of the past.

We are the strong
We are the brave
We are the lovers
The last of our kind

— The End —