"searcher" poems
all I gain is clarity from the clouds
while adding more weight to my inertia
disordered thoughts only form orderly mounds
in order to confound the pin searcher
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
It was not when temptation came,
Swiftly and blastingly as flame,
And seared me white with burning scars;
When I stood up for age-long wars
And held the very Fiend at grips;
When all my mutinous body rose
To range itself beside my foes,
And, like a greyhound in the slips,
The Beast that dwells within me roared,
Lunging and straining at his cord. . . .
For all the blusterings of Hell,
It was not then I slipped and fell;
For all the storm, for all the hate,
I kept my soul inviolate!
But when the fight was fought and won,
And there was Peace as still as Death
On everything beneath the sun.
Just as I started to draw breath,
And yawn, and stretch, and pat myself,
-- The grass began to whisper things --
And every tree became an elf,
That grinned and chuckled counsellings:
Birds, beasts, one thing alone they said,
Beating and dinning at my head.
I could not fly. I could not shun it.
Slimily twisting, slow and blind,
It crept and crept into my mind.
Whispered and shouted, sneered and laughed,
Screamed out until my brain was daft. . . .
One snaky word, "What if you'd done it?"
And I began to think . . .
Ah, well,
What matter how I slipped and fell?
Or you, you gutter-searcher say!
Tell where you found me yesterday!
2k
There are three B's
intimately connected to a spinal cord injury,
bowel, bladder, and blather.
The gut severed from the brain
is rudderless.
Both bowel and bladder require outside assistance
which brings in blather.
The care giver, the talker.
One time, in my case
a born again ****** searcher.
Not for ****
but for digital conversion.
My *** well in hand I heard the purr,
"Do you believe in Jesus?"
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
Her soul is blind
As her body is imperfect
Her stretch marks were written in coded language
She’s so pure that she’s toxic.
Braille:
Only passionate readers understood her vibe…her stories.
Written in coded language of cracked walls and extorted minds
You know... Extorted minds.
Extorted the way we extort morphine to coke fiends
Cracked walls. Matching the cracked walls of our unity.
Can you read her?
Can you, dig deep and fill a human being with that
Refreshing feeling we should all get after engaging in a
Dope *** intellectual conversation.
Read her, fluently.
Intelligence is so attractive.
But…after talking for hours it’s apparent that your mind is shallow.
I don’t know what’s left to do.
Tell me…How long has it been since someone has touched you entirely
Without having to actually touch you?
How long has it been since you’ve silenced your mind?
& let your mind be where it already is.
Leave it alone. It’ll quiet itself.
Her soul is blind.
Her mind is hungry.
Seeking the unknown.
Deep in the depths of what doesn’t need to be retrieved.
She wonders how far tomorrow is.
Today is an illusion.
She is not worried.
Her soul is blind.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
Originally posted 10-7-13 Deleted repost
Forever standing by a princess trapped in the primative land called "Killer of Dreams".
In you "she" sees that light at the end of tunnel of darkness sent from heaven above.
To you "she" is the sun, the earth and all in the galaxy that's right in your world.
To "she" you are that one of a kind and rare being who is deserving of eternal love.
You sit by shore in palatial abode atop mountain but not part of valley's kingdom,
patient like no other since the creation of man brave descendant of Adam's Eve.
Against odds, "she" finds small rays of light in desolate land filled with raw hate.
Jailer dares only visit desolate place of hate briefly but keeps "she" captive resident.
Sharing life's continuing dance of when will she re-start and if he will stop loving?
Enchanted day(music's fading), "she" will at last finally select life's destined partner.
Burning question; Will it be you handsome brave knight who sits upon his charger?
Unknown! She loves you but "she's" the searcher and seeks what feels right to her.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
You are a curious fleshy navigator
Explorer of mind and world
You are a synapse searcher
A hemisphere lurker
You are a voiceless idea
An unopened potion
You are beautifully blurry
An ambiguously cryptic existence
You reach my extremities
A nice warm flow
You burst from my body
The only existence I know
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
I believe
I believe I'm hesitant to believe in anything because
Life is always changing, sometimes faster than you can bat an eye
I believe that you can never be alone because your thoughts will always be with you
I try to believe that good will overcome evil but it is a concept I can't wrap my mind around
I believe that the world will never stop spinning and I will never stop dancing to the subtle sway of Earth's forces
I believe that the sun still rises even on cloudy days
That after the worst storms, rainbows linger
I believe that everything is indefinite
And I believe that words have more power than actions do
I believe that I will always be looking for something else because I am a searcher
A wanderer
A creator
But not quite a believer
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
Hello everyone,
I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!
I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?
The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.
Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines
Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world
Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!
Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
Jeff Gaines
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 7:52 AM UTC
Although far removed from the great Sahara I by chance met Saharazad in the market place she
Wore white she registered from cute to beautiful excuse the personal reference but this is all
About feelings I wore brown it is another way to be invisible weight is the greatest disconnect
You are truly ignored in school I was known as the class clown at home I was the life of the
Party even when I took computer classes I just reverted back talking out loud having the
Teacher laughing too this time but as I said before as a searcher you can’t be joining everything
In eight years I have been to my family’s home three times and one of those times was because
I got a false report that one of them had died sadness and loneliness is a requirement to see
And pearse the inner world of the soul you truly must be on the outside so let me continue to
Relate this lovely creature I happened upon her smile could cause a minor accident gorgeous it
Was just short of jumping on a carousel but better all the color and lights and music was
Emanating from her loveliness her white attire only increased the pleasure isn’t that what you
See worn a lot when one dances to the Viennese Waltz just showing you what you miss and
Don’t see such gentle beating of the heart from a human fount and then she speaks and the
Music begins brick and asphalt you have never been so blessed then you mix in sky and sun it’s
An experience to die for eyes of wonder you bring down the thunder and without doubt the
Attending mist to the eyes the mind you stand in one place but your back in years gone by she
Was wonderful then now she is dreamy truly the stuff that dreams are made of oh God
Consecrate these dreams to immortal feats and deeds make those that feel so alone they are
Being fooled and harmed by the enemy I have been in your school of instruction for a long time
And I attest these feelings and facts are sound Sarazard is more than imagination but she is the
Root and beauty of true life Thank you Father that she is my friend and I choose to share with
All who will read this if everything feels mundane and worthless you are in a bad place where
Lies Are ruling come and be free I can’t give you her address but I have shown her unmasked
And the realness of the person that she is blessings to her and you
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Uninvited visitor
Black-eyed burglar
Shadow dweller
Nimble sprinter
Able contortionist.
Cheap, common yet
Generous
disease giver
Innocent troublemaker
Thief and scrounger
Bin searcher
Test subject.
Extreme sport enthusiast of my kitchen, bedroom and balcony
Sleep depriver
Olympic diver
Racecar driver with claws for wheels.
I'm not your pit crew, so please find your meals elsewhere,
Silent sniffler.
Constant nibbler
Unwelcome visitor
Gatecrasher!
And he brought a plus one, cheeky sod.
Wherever he goes,
He's pursued always by that faithful worm.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
The fact is your presence is intoxicating
like smoke you enter
assaulting my body but soothing my mind
creator of soul shadows;
flavours of margarita, mohitos on the side –
all I want is you
on the side
i want you when your absence is obvious
you are my soul-searcher, my thought-finder
this mind that holds you intact caresses me
(envelopes) me (completely)
light to dark you are my solar eclipse
between what is and what should be
you are you, just the way I never expected you –
talk to me; I have ears and eyes and arms and hands for you alone
patches of paint I give to you
to mix and match
to find me;
your woman of colours.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 11:17 AM UTC
You think you know me?
Yes, you claim you know who I am.
Yet you do not know who I was.
I was the thief, aged seven, that nearly got away.
I was the reader, aged ten, indulging in George Orwell.
I was the match-maker, aged twelve, bonding hearts across wires.
I was the insane, aged thirteen, seeing death as a new beginning.
I was the hacker, aged fourteen, learning how to navigate Windows in Spanish.
I was the con-artist, aged fifteen, making thousands.
I was the economist, aged sixteen, dabbling in foreign exchange.
I was the romantic, aged seventeen, thinking my life was set in stone.
I was the student, aged eighteen, learning to live on my own.
And I was the lost, aged nineteen, on the brink of existence.
Now I'm the searcher, aged twenty, finding new meaning to life every day.
Looking through rose-tinted glasses.
Learning to love and be loved.
Not for who I was,
But who I am.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Vaulted Sky
Shaded canyon breathtaking heights does the angry wind speak if so in a whisper the granite peaks austere and bleak seem to frown on the trees and lowly grass lands with their fertility and ease of growth. While he the monarch bristling with his cold barren armor of granite invites the stares the awe inspired gratitude of nature and mortal man he knows there dreams and thoughts how many have stood at the edge of wonder on his brow with fainted hearts. Their thoughts drift out and away ever upward reaching the clouds filled and clothed with mountain air brightly they are displayed in these untamable rays. Voices of the ancient ones still echo their wisdom still resounds in the summer thunder they visited and released many a tortured soul. Before Blind they stood before the closed door of their minds knowing there is a path but where can it be found. Riches unbound await the searcher who will go to any and all lengths to conquer unbelief freedom his guiding star he walks in great shadows. Mountainous men Jefferson Lincoln his stalwart companions stand with grandest stature takes from the mountain those teachings not found in musty universities. Thoughts born on creations morn formed and laid on this rocky foundation now for centuries they have bore the weight this colossus purified they are words more noble than gold. Share them invest them in the borderless world of human kind that circle the globe. Moses was familiar and consorted with mountains the angel made one his sepulcher. Waste not the golden hours they are the thread that sows life’s most exquisite moments together making a life. Turn aside seek the heights they will give you respect and honor words will flow that are uncommon they will fit any and all circumstances filling the empty void where hearts bleed without ceasing. Your voice will be like the cool mountain breeze soothing filled with substance and comfort.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:54 AM UTC
~
she paints in
well-articulated strokes,
in shades that boldly
show the seeker,
she brushes
in the open
window
the painful colors
of the searcher.
somewhere
in between,
she is the
doubter and believer;
on the edge
of learning who
and what she is;
struggling to chart
a course for
who and what
she will become.
she knows at least enough
to know her present
is not enough,
and knows too much to
call an ending
to her painful search.
she is trapped
between
lament and expectation,
between
pain and exaltation.
she is beautiful
but caught on
an ugly razor's edge.
between
the past and the future,
present...
but so distant
on this search
to her existence.
the if's, the why's
behind locked doors,
away from all
the peering eyes,
the adjournment
to her journey,
her acceptance
of acquittance;
her debt discharged,
the charge expunged;
forever free,
her best revenge.
~
*post script.
for she who came to us with broken wing,
who cannot move forward without
her own acquittance of her past.*
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
the MOTHER HILL
towers
unto the SKY
the sky breathes fully and
recieves
and I, too
recieve
------------------------
-------------------------
the one sole searcher
in the hills...
..is all
that remains
and so
the SOUL
(forever!)
lives on!
-------------------
-------------------
my name?
drifting images
teeming with images
(SEED)
seeding the world
breeding
PEOPLE
bringing
the RAIN
-----------------
-----------------
at first
"DUTY"
meant
"using the toilet"
NOW
we just "s--t"
on eachother
and call it
WAR"
------------------
-------------------
the rain falleth
(and the ground)
swelling with
PURE PREGNANCY
the Whole Earth
beseechingly
calling endlessly
your
"NAME"
knowing you know
what to do
-----------------------
------------------------
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 1:01 PM UTC
Vaulted sky
Shaded canyon breathtaking heights does the angry wind speak if so in a whisper the granite peaks austere and bleak seem to frown on the trees and lowly grass lands with their fertility and ease of growth. While he the monarch bristling with his cold barren armor of granite invites the stares the awe inspired gratitude of nature and mortal man he knows there dreams and thoughts how many have stood at the edge of wonder on his brow with fainted hearts. Their thoughts drift out and away ever upward reaching the clouds filled and clothed with mountain air brightly they are displayed in these untamable rays. Voices of the ancient ones still echo their wisdom still resounds in the summer thunder they visited and released many a tortured soul. Before Blind they stood before the closed door of their minds knowing there is a path but where can it be found. Riches unbound await the searcher who will go to any and all lengths to conquer unbelief freedom his guiding star he walks in great shadows. Mountainous men Jefferson Lincoln his stalwart companions stand with grandest stature takes from the mountain those teachings not found in musty universities. Thoughts born on creations morn formed and laid on this rocky foundation now for centuries they have bore the weight this colossus purified they are words more noble than gold. Share them invest them in the borderless world of human kind that circle the globe. Moses was familiar and consorted with mountains the angel made one his sepulcher. Waste not the golden hours they are the thread that sows life’s most exquisite moments together making a life. Turn aside seek the heights they will give you respect and honor words will flow that are uncommon they will fit any and all circumstances filling the empty void where hearts bleed without ceasing. Your voice will be like the cool mountain breeze soothing filled with substance and comfort.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
It is a lonely life to live
And I would seldom recommend
To the weak of heart
But for the hopeful
I commend this struggle
Stirring younger men
To live learn and grow
Perhaps leaving family behind
In the pursuit of the mind
Paying dues with isolation and time
Finding your muse rightly used
But facing a nation racing away from
The acquisition of knowledge and wisdom
A society determined to remain blind
In Plato’s Cave slaves still obey shadows
Sniping at those such as yourself
Who struggle to expand and include
All things within and without
Till the wanderer comes home
Alone better not bitter from the journey
Open and ready to share
Hoping the world is ready to care
About such wonderful things
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
History of people
The stone walls and vaulted ceiling held memories the light seemingly superficial human identities have
Passed in and out like the outward wind that briefly buffets the outer structure then moves on if only
We could use a tool like the archeologist not to deface or change but take scrapings their work tells the
Grand story of people and place I would like the more personnel their struggles and their outcome we
Can and do learn from history and in time be able to take DNA when the science is stronger to take
From these living libraries through test tubes and meaningful searches that will connect people even
Closer than ancestry search sites this shows your long ago relative was a silver smith and how impressive
If the very searcher himself works in a similar field someday I’m sure they will have applications that
Will be virtual it will be made in the same village you can set in your easy chair and have the unfolding
Of how it felt the highs the lows the commutable variable of life’s most cherished meaning what is to
Exist to be such time and effort is expended in the thoughts of this will serve our posterity what a
Precious stream flows from solid rock just like life giving springs in ancient and modern day where life
Would have to be deferred but out of a pristine valley not only nature but human enterprise is giving the
Opportunity to devise many wonders traceable back through time we lose essentiality when we don’t
Build bridges to our rich past cares can over run us or as they say they can provide stepping stones it is
So easy to defeat someone who has lost the chain links that tells who he is and where he comes from
This erodes his knowing and sense of belonging take careful measures to shore up the present with the
Glories others fixed in the earth as guide posts that will not fail no matter what the storm is now go in
These sacred blessings that hold back fire and flood in them you will feel your stature enlarge nothing
Will be to big you already have been given the mastery of them it’s told in the stone
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
wanderlust thirsts for earthly scents
the farewell of a soul allowed without fear
for gratitude becomes unnoticably purer
on cracked lips above ****** sandals
and searcher is the silent word in my most
valuable friendship with this kingdom
we feel the temporary darkness trembling
and point at birds that refuse to stay
despite our crossing footprints despite
the black hourglass of our history
full of secret horniness
I would prefer to distillate your tears
drink them with a smile for everyone
and sadly point out the sparkles of hope
what keeps me from doing so
some call wisdom
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
If you could encapsulate a precise feeling
Enlarge it, breath it in, hold it for a little
Longer....wrap you arms around it.....
what would it be....?
Would it be a crystalised memory?
a
Photograph worn at the edges from long ago
Held touches pristinely varnished?
a
Song captured mid verse? whose notes bear witness
Forever black stalks glooped in circular feet
Would it be....
a
Atmospheric winged horizon, caught out as a bubble
Links the past
Yet here, what would be the exact nature of your
bubbliography?
a
Winged bird, a pleasure dome, soft far off yonderings of
a
Soul searcher locating peace everlasting
But...what peace?....dare I ask you...would you give up for another
Handing you choice, choose one to......
hold with memories
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
I'm going through changes
don't know when I'll be back again
I don't mind to tell you
that I don't know where I belong
I wasn't born this way
Nobody ever told me what to say
I know the truth and I've seen your lies
So listen close,
so I don't have to tell you twice
That I see what you see, because I'm not blind
I'm not a prophet, I'm not a ghost
I'm not a preacher, not even close
I'm just a man with a dream and you're in my way
I'm tired of you
You're tired of me
I'm tired of people who think they know who I should be
I'll find myself,
and then you'll see
A soul searcher can't be told who he should be
I'm not a prophet, I'm not a ghost
I'm not a preacher, not even close
I'm just a man with a dream and you're in my way
I'm not a master, I'm not a child
I'm not a puppet, I'm a little wild
I'm just a man with a dream and you're in my way
Don't tell me who to be
until you fix yourself
I don't mind my broken life
I have a dream that I'll
follow until my day is done
I don't mind being alone
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
What am I?
A mere butterfly in the summer fly of your
beauty?
Why am I
here,
coloured by the summer sky of your
grace?
Here I am to face
the nurture and the chase
of a diamond dragon's pace.
The searcher and my crystal
percher.
Where am I?
I'm gliding by the land to overhead.
By the starry riverbed, and time goes ahead,
as I taste the words
I never said...
I see flower heads of lover's lies
that suffer by the frontal eye
of azure skies, who's flustered by
the boats ahead.
Who rode ahead the ocean bed
of love and lust.
My flesh is a myriad of coloured dyes.
And when I wonder
why,
I am discovered by...
What?
Truth.
And pain.
I must be going insane...
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
They say imma Searcher.
One of those odd human beings.
In between the intro’s and the extro’s
Just Searching for my place in this World.
Dec 18, 2022
Dec 18, 2022 at 11:32 PM UTC
Little by little
Shadow engulfs the weary soldier
As the dark drapes hide the light
The senses onced sharp
Dulled
The focus once once intense
Weakened
The confidence once large
Minisculed
As the head nods unconsciously
in succeeding rhythmic locomotion
Dozes the student
From the horrendous boringness
As the teacher shuts
the dusty only-once usage textbook closed
Marks the end of the informative torture
Awakens the knowledge searcher
From his unexpected quick slumber
Thus came night
For the student to do the task obtained
Little did he know
Not a single knowledge was gained
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Cursing luck
And pretending to be okay
The fire in me
Is flickering, fading.
Tonight I'll drink to sorrow
And tomorrow I won't embrace
The pitiful hangover
I'll try and chase a dream
I'll fail on all fronts.
I'm a negative searcher
I want to bring down the empire
That they've built up
Those **** scavengers
That took my love.
I get it
I'm nothing more than bad seed
A chronic lover of alcohol
And a dreamer that sits alone.
I have the words
But I don't have the style
To produce a final
Closing statement.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC