"universal" poems
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The Instigation:
Edmund Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”
I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“
<•>
*both of you shush!
there is no “better” in poetry
mine yours theirs, alive or not,
just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail
tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse
good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come
they get it
how we get there unimportant
get there
GET THERE
get there
that is the poetic
mission critical
no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace*
the common place
*where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,
a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive
call my poems,
blessedly common!
that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better*
for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered
8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
Perfection
The subjection of one’s interjections
Based on the world
The world of today
Can you change what you think
What others have to say
Were interconnected but not in connection
With a convection of perfection that inhibits rejection
Or constant correction of certain parts or sections
That people fail to mention for their own protection
Believing a misconception to gain desired affection
Wasting their discretion for a false obsession
Thoughts of concession and encouraging suppression
This is just one dissection of perfection
It is but one path, one direction
But this should lead to many other questions
What about succession from the term perfection?
Is it needed to drive people to higher ascension?
Maybe one day society can undergo a social resurrection
Where creed, religion, race, freedom are not held in contention
No more crimes, no need for detention
Everyone is happy, no more thoughts of depression
Everyone can be comfortable with their own reflection
Hopefully this dissection can leave a lasting impression
And drive home the need for a universal intervention
To stop and think what it means strive for perfection
For you may have it wrong upon further inspection
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.
Will you find horseshoe ***** mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.
Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.
The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.
Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading "Keep Off."
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
25.1k
Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.
Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;
Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:
For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.
Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?
19.5k
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself
encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night
each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell
into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born
the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines
the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
I bow to Lotus Feet, which gives me eternal peace
I am incomplete without your compassion
you healed my heart when it was thrown and shattered
you picked me up when I struggled to get through
you gave me hope when it seemed so out of reach
I am nothing without you
Where ever I go, found not alone
your glorious touch was always with me
Nectar drop of Gita, feels presents of yours
O! my Lord Krishna show me the light on my path
your Flute stirs the Universal Consciousness
And Gita enchants the Transcendental Consciousness
O! Lord of the whole Universe, Omnipotent Master of all
Grant me a glimpse of Thyself,Be pleased to come and live inside me
-----------------------------------: :---------------------------------
By : Karunakar Saroj
(In the love of Lord Krishna)
“hare krishna hare krishna krishna krishna hare hare hare rama hare rama rama rama hare hare”
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
I watched the turtle dwindle day by day,
Get more remote, lie limp upon my hand;
When offered food he turned his head away;
The emerald shell grew soft. Quite near the end
Those withdrawn paws stretched out to grasp
His long head in a poignant dying gesture.
It was so strangely like a human clasp,
My heart cracked for the brother creature.
I buried him, wrapped in a lettuce leaf,
The vivid eye sunk inward, a dull stone.
So this was it, the universal grief:
Each bears his own end knit up in the bone.
Where are the dead? we ask, as we hurtle
Toward the dark, part of this strange creation,
One with each limpet, leaf, and smallest turtle---
Cry out for life, cry out in desperation!
Who will remember you when I have gone,
My darling ones, or who remember me?
Only in our wild hearts the dead live on.
Yet these frail engines bound to mystery
Break the harsh turn of all creation's wheel,
for we remember China, Greece, and Rome,
Our mothers and our fathers, and we steal
From death itself its rich store, and bring it home.
15.1k
Lying embedded in velvet gloom and night,
You and I are gazing up the northern hemisphere.
Within the sea of darkness is the stars' stained light.
Hidden inside the fabric of interstellar space,
Might be a kind of universal truth
That answers all the questions of human race.
Sensing the pull of the universe
I feel like we're lost between the infinite vastness
That none of us could ever dream to traverse.
Suddenly you get up on your knees -
Head in the sky and feet on the ground.
“Perhaps the stars only made us feel lost,
because we both wanted to be found.”
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
We open our minds to expand to the times not to pretend there is some end to confine the limits of prime; we defend to remind to dance to the trance we redefine to enhance not to surrender to chance.
We open our hearts to embrace the new space-time transparency, interdimensional race as we become united and one, open to truth we exhibit ourselves as one infinite youth, gifted and new, eternally pure evolved to endure no end to potential, perfect and cured.
We strengthen our bodies and build on each other we love ourselves and love one another we grow and mature and extend to our neighbors but as we think deeper our expansion is greater our planet is one and our galaxy peace to the opening worlds we bring wisdom and ease we do not enslave or deny or deceive but we share our pure knowledge our light and belief.
We raise up our souls beyond science and physics to evolve beyond consciousness confinements and limits our imperial nature shifts to emerge from the boundaries of body and smallness of Earth we expand our perception to include all dimensions from previous eons to future inceptions.
We shift our new world from finite to light, universal, infinite, natural, bright we embrace the day and welcome the night to work with each other to be perfect, upright, to evolve our new planet, our galactic mindframe to expand from micro to cosmically aimed to unlock the portals to open our brains to evolve from old gears to interdimensional spheres uniting creation without hesitation pure as clean water and deep meditation.
-Ryan Christopher Brandes
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.
Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreadful cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but not from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless.
Find the mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.
11.1k
My sweetheart you are so stunning and seductive
With a lovely attitude, to come and get me please
Your progressive style makes you more reflective
Embrace me come in my warm arms don not tease
Sky is under your feet and you have taken me over
Wind is playfully caressing your cheeks, curly hair
Your eye brows are archer this is what your armor
What a tasteful youth what a wonderful spicy flair
My love,life is at stake my love is now on the altar
Your graces can save me from the clutches of world
My life is like a ship without any rudder and harbor
In front of universal love your beauty is just curled
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
no one is subscribing
to the universal affection
draining subconscious ailment
that needs no treatment
quaking with fear
shaking with revulsion
looking to prolong
an hour, a minute
stretching one second
into ten seconds
where are we going,
past the streetlights
the crossroads
the commotion
inside the canal boat
that surrounds and accompanies
this road -
will it ends one day,
sometimes, somewhere
and brings an end
to the entire's generation
guilt and disease?
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
I. Neptune’s Theater
A rock spins through the universal tumbler
and its warm blue pools calcify
as turquoise Neptune in his cloudy blue bath bath
builds a lace castle with his fingertips
Sculpts a submerged eden of crimson and emerald
where painted parrots chat up cardinals
butterfly and angel fry sway with wave pulse
and foliated coral fingers beckon from arched windows.
Neptune’s children are flat and bright, spined and notched
free yet entangled in lace mesh ecosystem
beneath an array of bioluminescent stars
as a gangly pretender watches and blows bubbles.
II. Sapien Siege
The hot acidic hand of death grasps
the mesh rends and tangles
the ecosystem shattered
reef’s loosed children scream beneath planet’s stars.
Butterflies impaled
cyanide-swooning damsels
mesh-tangled angels hauled heavenward
coral to potash, corpses to coal.
The pretender to the throne blinks
rubs blurry lenses,
kicks plastic fins
and moves on to the next show
Unseeing and unaware
of the luminous filament in his wake.
Self-appointed divinity,
deus ex machina.
*******************************************************************************************
Ann says: All of the animal and human characters in this poem (except Neptune and The Pretender) are named after coral reef fish. Coral reefs, one of the most diverse ecosystems, are expected to be largely extinct within one human generation. Deus ex machina is Latin for “God from the machine.”
Copyright 2013 by Ann Marcaida.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from ******* and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 1:23 AM UTC
The process of becoming other than,
the shedding of the old by way of time
the hands upon the clock traverse their span,
the ever fleeting moment reigns, sublime.
The emptiness of all objective forms,
the rushing river, never stepped in twice,
the reconfiguration of all norms,
the virtues of lost ages seen as vice,
The elements converge and then react,
the caterpillars weave themselves cocoons,
the world amends its stock of gathered facts,
the moths emerge, in flight to greet the moon,
The firmament, destroyed and rearranged,
the universal essence, found in change.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
I found a place of solitude inside my mind,
Self reflection teeters on the line.
I speak my affirmations, shaping my manifestations,
Satisfaction on the road to attraction.
Through universal connection, I feel it rise,
Flowing gently through my consciousness.
I am your daughter, twin flame, friend,
Teacher or lover, it doesn’t matter
For we are all made of stardust and matter,
And that is the piece that truly matters.
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC
Let the night in, for I'll be writin' the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.
We are makin' it and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.
Like desert diamonds, we will reflect in the pearly sun.
You will be the meadow that I will prefer and the lover within my arms to cover. Until amusement, let my cries give you inducement.
From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.
The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed full of cherries, and the night stays still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucid thrills.
I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
Our hearts entwined. I attune from the voice of the raccoon.
Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar. I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn, bound to our emotional devotion. Our irresistible pleasure is bowing to our connection.
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 8:33 AM UTC
Shackled imprisoned in an oval office
Called Robben island Transformed
Unshackled twenty seven years later
Freed a nation from an apartheid regime
Inspired the world from the Grand parade
A Universal Icon Humanitarian *** laude
Now honoured in the halls of Valhalla
Glorifying God...Looks upon us
With Love from the heavenly realm
INKULULEKO AHLULA
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
When he left my mother told me something.
She said it's okay and this will pass
He's nothing compared to you
But as I laid there
On my bedroom floor
In the room where he claimed me
Where little girl dreams were shattered
I didn't believe her
Instead I screamed about how I hated life
How he left me like dust on my fingertips
Like the ash of my burned down home
Two weeks later and I'm a shell
Of who I was
Of who I am
Of who I'll ever be
My ribs poked out like piano keys
Just waiting to be played
And my collar bones
Oh they were waiting like glasses
Glasses expecting hard liquor
That I of course drowned myself in
The day her name left his lips
I was done for
I wanted to become nothing but earth and essence.
But my best friend cradled me
She promised I would find love again
That this hurt, no matter how bad it is,
Will only be temporary
I didn't believe her
So I rebelled against them all
It was only me
4 months later and I'm sitting in the car
My best friend sits beside me
I'm genuinely laughing
And she looks proud
Then she tells me how he's talking about me.
From my big black boots
My infatuation with peaches
To how I harbor guitar pics on every inch of my body.
I relapse into him immediately
I wanted him so bad
6 and a half months later and he tells my best friend
That he hates me
My name swims out of his mouth on a raft of profanities.
But it didn't hurt as much as I thought
I think I grew
Little by little I became the new girl
The one that writes again and breathes the air a little deeper than the others.
6 and half months plus 3 days
I caress my fingers over my body
The shower beats down on me
"I want to be your friend" I whisper to myself.
He was nothing but a thunderstorm
But I am more than he
I am the sun
The moon
The stars
I am the heavens
I am the thing everyone revels in
And I made it through hell and back
And now I can finally say goodbye
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
Let the night in, for I will write the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.
We are makin' and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.
From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.
The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed of cherries, and the night stands still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucidly.
I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
I attune from the voice of the raccoon.
Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar.
I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn,
bound to our emotional devotion.
Nov 15, 2021
Nov 15, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
I speak the language of God
I speak Alleluyah and Amen!
I speak a perfect spoken word,
The language of poets and gifted men.
I speak fluent Norwegian
The language of the Norsk.
I was born a Liberian.
That took time and hard work.
I speak sound French
The language of French Guinea.
I speak it whenever I pray in church,
God blessed me there as a refugee.
I speak the English Language,
The universal language of business.
Wall Street used it to do damage,
Damages that caused the financial crisis.
I speak the hustle language,
The one adopted by hustlers.
This language I have used to engage,
All my challenges and troubles.
I speak a special creative language
The one spoken by writers and poets.
This language is so unique,
That it has produced many laureates.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©
1/8/2018
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC