"revitalization" poems
When is the final round?
Conception Semesters Birth
Sit Crawl First step
Crèche Primary Secondary
Bachelors Honours Masters
Junior Senior Manager
Lust Love Family
Unemployed Gainful Pension
Plan Experience Memory
∞
When is the final round?
Field Farm Fort
Tack Gravel Tar road
Rural Remote Urban
Wood Rock Concrete jungle
Developing Established Revitalization
White Multi racial Black
Conservative Liberal Decadent
Pretoria Tshwane Tshwane Metro
∞
When is the final round?
Bushmen Dutch British
Colony Union Republic
Native Settlers Previously disadvantaged
Undiscovered Developed Commercial
Subsistence Commercial Corporation
Oppressed Equal Masters
Apartheid Democracy Socialistic rule
Logical Confused Insane
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 1:48 AM UTC
I want to know more than one
Haitian
I want to know more than three
Jamaicans
I want to meet Nigerians that speak
Igbo
Kenyans that laugh at the Swahili I learned in Berkeley
Ugandans that correct my Mandarin
Tanzanians that teach me how to say it in Cantonese
I want to tour the holy city Ile-Ife
trace the pilgrimage path of Mansa Musa
then circle back to Timbuktu
See the reminders of Aksum
See the remainders of Kmt
Touch the Earth and envision the buildings that my ancestors constructed
thousands of years before they were invaded thousands of times
leaving the still standing walls that others never believed were thousands of years old
till their, “science” said so
I want to board a barge in the south and flow north with the Nile
I wonder what eight others will join me
I want to walk the same trail
that was the first trail
compare my foot print
to the first foot print
The vision I see
The things I want to do
The escape I want to take
Isnt one that is new
Its one that is old
so old that its in the blood
in the very fabric and design
of all that claim
Human
What I want is a realization
no
a reawakening
of my genetic inheritance
of my ancestral birthright
What calls me is the land so old
its true name
its original tongue
is the only
can only
be labeled
The First
There
that is what calls to me
There
that is what pushes me
that is the very intangible force that pulsates my heart
pumping the blood through my veins
That place that is forever older than old
yet
In a constant state of
Reconstruction
Recreation
Revelation
Renovation
Revitalization
Revolution
I want to breath the air in that place that is always in a state of newness
I want to feel the frequency in that place
where there are as many words for new
as there are people to speak them
That is the place
That is the space
That is
© Christopher F. Brown 2015
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
This is a place where you can see everything coming
from far away;
a place where people come
to leave;
a place where people pack in the middle of the night,
and wake the children
while it's still dark out,
hoping for hope in the cholera
of a sunrise
and the 5 a.m. Greyhound;
this is a place where there is no flea
market, just a strand of people
on the side of the road
a table and a parti-colored distress,
while their kids play in grass lots;
this is a place where factories are built,
clandestine factories; factories with no
signposts, and no barbed-wire fences;
this is a place where there is always something green
in the tilled rows crowding up against the road,
not necessarily growing,
but maybe the signs of an arbitrary decay;
this is a place for old trailers and rust tears;
telephone poles more than a stake in humanity,
communication rather than introspection,
redemption more than salvation,
revitalization more than pleasure,
insight more than hope,
promise more than dreams,
this is a place where a father rushes up to the bus,
pushing the kids,
as he ushers his wife on board,
the little children hopping up each step,
as he says
"Get on, and we outta here."
This is a place where families don't have belongings
where you don't belong to anything.
This is a place you can leave easily,
because it is a place with a name
you can't remember.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 10:34 AM UTC
Earth is aligned with Galactic Core
Direct lines are open as never before.
***Creating the home
we've been longing for ?***
From Source this our essence
transplanted in hopes
we'd transcend expectation
revitalization
cross fertilization
***Re-image the past
to create a new future
with great hearts afire
the challenge is on.***
Earth is aligned with Galactic Core
Direct lines are open as never before.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
love is a
state of mind
an emotion
sometimes ephemeral
sometimes steadfast
its source
an archetype
formless
it is not a relationship
although it may exist
in a relationship
or only
in a moment
like a spark in the dark
it is a function of imagination
as is empathy
it is magical thinking
*** may be an instrument of love
or a powerful healing balm
in and of it self
a profound therapy
and seen as an act of
divine grace
the ancients knew this
but unlike them
we have taken
sacred prostitutes
from ancient temples
vessels of the
goddess eroticism
Astarte of the Canaanites
Áine of the Celts
Min of the Egyptians
Aphrodite of the Greeks
Kama of the Hindus
Inanna of the Mesopotamians
and transformed them into demons
by subjugation to the depths of our subconscious
the archetypal female was replaced
by the neutered holy ghost
the patriarchal symbolic genital mutilation of women
a gift of horrors by Romes Council of Nicea
crippling values written in stone
frigidity guilts child
an abysmal morality
a theft by
kleptomaniacs of freedoms desire
for two millennium
vessels of the goddess
have been transmuted into a profanity
inflicting
a cold homicide on
****** freedom
forcing the abandonment
of a most essential constituent of sanity
the miraculous repair and revitalization
of the soul
through passions physical touch
sensual love
and the release of pent up desire
and left in its place
a harness of deprivation
an expression of a regressive culture
that promotes
a barren terrain
between
emotional ****** insecurity
and the monotony of monogamy
I am a voice of Thelema for the coming Aeon of Horus
LOVE IS ALL LOVE UNDER WILL
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
2k19 month of September
Alarmed an international terror
Climate change, change in weather
Drought across the nation
Turned into fire Strom centre
5 months from now
We can still witness the ember
Smoke, ashes from bushfire
Travelled thousands of acres
This inferno had us surrender
We lost a million of species endangered
And pushed many near extinction
Humans were no exception
32 were lost in this render
People lost their land of ancestors
Houses which were a place of
Laughter, revitalization and relaxation
Now are nothing but melted shelters
Firefighters to social writers
All jumped to help out the situation
From taking control over fire
To spread awareness
Seeking for helpers
Nature finally blessed us
It rained and things got under control
Before fire would swallow everything
And melt us...
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 6:32 AM UTC
Reticulated souls interwoven into a thousand yesterday's, folding all together in ways we cannot even say.
How many lifetimes spent in webs of emotional reverberations, always with the ones that contribute to blessed revitalization.
Where the paths cross we may never know, yet once found instant connections grow.
Out of thin air as if never a day was lost, always there like a rock covered in moss.
Deeper still are the emotional bonds held, as no matter the distance feeling are always felt.
A group of soul mates sharing lifetimes without measure, eternal universal links among the greatest unknown treasures.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
So introverted no one heard it
I got existential
My man said **** you're thoughts
Ignorance and jealousy gets perverted
So let it go, it's useless
Besides, the medicine is already rolled
Anyways I walk with a crew too thin to get deep
Wise men walk in threes
Protection is needed to get home
I walk with a chip and a heavy heart
Makes it ever harder to breathe
My man said get you're head right, the words formed
Poetry evolved though I never did intend to
He said he didn't understand me
I said better yet
You need to see to believe
Hard to imagine knowing what we've been through
Poor circumstances breed survival that's a fact you can see in the winters cold
Today's fresh start is part of yesterday's mural painted as the gallery closed
So I wake with a fresh water splash I can feel the revitalization from the soul to my toes
I could admit to the doubts
But the patron to the fam, should never let it be known
I came in the door wearing the humidity of another wage week
Weekends are the oasis to the poor
Drink the collected flavors
Roll up under umbrellas
While I share with you my latest brainstorm
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
there is a place where the digitized vinyl gospel funk
intercepts the rumble of passing cars
and creates the most electrifying revitalization
sharper even than the razor blade air
running darting
from underneath far-off frosted leaves
on starch high branches
scraping my fingers and ankles
with ceaseless sounds that show
the bristled boundless scuplted green plane
how to dance
soon the sun loses its hold on tranquility
and leaps from the halos
of buildings and coloratura crowns of trees
painting the bustling scene with an overlay
of glossy jubiliation
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Lavender lingers to mask the hues of the wounds inflicted by memories of what once was,
A somber retreat past the stratosphere is where my heart now seeks refuge,
Away from this dismantled construct - the fantasy you led me to believe,
I sit solemnly to listen to my spirit and how it yearns for the beloved,
The distance enforced left me astray,
Now my days are painted in lavender as I hope to heal,
Brighter times of union and divinity,
Of peace and prosperity,
Filled with redemption and revitalization.
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
Your inner peace was heavily disturbed,
Everyone saw how you started to stir,
But none among them truly understands
Everything for which you already planned
Was placed on a ****** indefinite hold,
And now, that chapter must remain untold
Until your time to shine will make itself known,
But this restlessness has fretfully grown...
Your impatience, often unrecognized,
Seems to steadily simmer and brew.
It's usually heard when you chastise
Something trivial anyone might do.
I sometimes feel this tension, unreal,
And I don't wish to keep stoking that flame,
But you must realize we share the same prize
In this perilous and unwavering game!
We've walked down these roads
More times than we know,
But still, we carry on.
The rush and the thrill
Will grant us our fill,
Our muse's strength is not yet gone!
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 3:45 AM UTC
Contemplation & Procrastination cause Starvation of Salvation,
Intimidation of Reconciliation cause Deprivation of Sanctification
Hospitalization due to Laceration leaving imperfection, never to see Immaculation
Revitalization of Harmonization based on the Perseveration of Consideration through Consolation.
Devastation & Humiliation cause Trepidation & Depreciation fading Animation,
Disassociation from Civilization & the Population results in Saturation,
Ramifications of a Situation pertaining to Infatuation & Obsession won't bring Rejuvenation,
Desolation & Isolation with out a friend
Desperation & Depression
foreshadow a means to an end
-Ajm
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
Dear Coshocton, Ohio-
I remember how warm you seemed. Not in the traditional sense of the word, but in a way that evoked feelings of safety, comfort, and care. In a time before I knew the true meaning of red and blue, did not realize the depth of ideological division, and assumed that nothing existed beyond the eggshell walls of our town, you taught me the meaning of community. Perhaps you were a community to which I never fully belonged, or maybe I just never earned my place, but you are also a world from which I know I will never be apart.
Coshocton, you showed me the strength of caring for everyone, young and old. Your chipped-paint homes and run-down factories and aged population all represent a better time but possess the undying hope that this better time was only a state of mind which you never left behind.
I remember the trips to the library, where swarms of sticky-fingered children and their families listened to story time as I clambered to make conversation with people nine times my age, stumbling over my words and speaking with the staggering and lilting speech of one who has not yet learned what not to say and when not to say it.
Coshocton, you gave me the first memories I ever had, laughing with friends and sledding down hills, wandering around a house much too big for me, wonderfully satisfied with what life had provided and wishing for nothing more than to continue being happy.
I know I will always be indebted to you, and for that I apologize, for I will never return what you offered. But you are so much more than what I owe you or what you granted me. You are a community, a city, a history, a people, a tiny dot on a map of cornfields and flatlands and run-down highways, a little theater in a dilapidated strip mall, an annual fair in the midst of an ailing community, a possibility for revitalization at the hands of your now-grown youths, a piece of flypaper in a sea of mousetraps, you were a gift.
You are a gift.
Thanks for everything.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Once came a Big Explosion
That marked the Clock of Evolution
Which put forth Message of Expansion
Forcing Inner Universe in Revitalization
Then came another Explosion...
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 6:08 AM UTC
I want to burn the insides,
Smoke out the pain of the third time.
If this is what it takes to find my place,
I don’t know if I can go on.
As long as its always you and never me,
I’ll be fine, maybe just skip a beat.
I’m sorry I left my fingerprints,
I feel like I stole color from your painting.
But I still want to visit the museum,
I don’t care the price or the length of line.
I don’t mind the reconstruction time.
I can’t let go without rejecting part of me or emptying my dreams.
My soul won’t let me feel right if I drop hope.
So I’ll stay home and keep writing my poems,
Until I know the museum is open, ready for tentative visitation and revitalization.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 7:27 PM UTC
They called him all sorts of names
For observing his quiet time
Little did they know,
That's his gas station for refueling
His navigation system for directions
His workout sessions for strength and agility
His chosen place of solace
His place of cleansing
His preferred workshop for revitalization
No way,
They would get him to stop his routine.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 8:31 AM UTC
Trickling streams released from ice
The return of feathered friends above
Blossoms of plum and cherry sprouting
Rays of sun captured in morning fog
Where does this infant season take you?
To pastures of wild flowers as far as you see?
Along creeks buzzing with young flies and bees?
This infant season is my favorite time to live
Take these weary bones and let them
Soak in the season's infant rainfall
Now is the time for rebirth and
Revitalization of the heart
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
the cool, mid-afternoon breeze
flowing through my bedroom window
turns my heart to honey and
my feet into flowers,
rooted where I stand, though
I'm still not sure if I'm grounded
with the revitalization of defrost
or buried in unforeseen melancholy.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 1:36 PM UTC