Poetry and Illustrations
Allpoetry.com
- Member since September 8, 2004.
- I support the site as a silver member
Just a simple old, country boy, I never had the opportunity to go to college, but now that I see what is produced, I'm glad.
I put down the things I feel, wonder or think about.
If somehow it is considered a poem or a decent story, rather then a stream of consciousness, Cerebral Diarrhea, or signs of a Diseased Mind, then so be it.
I sometimes delve into trying to make people think, difficult at the best of times. Far better minds then my own have tried and failed.
I do miss those 30 IQ points. Alas, truth be told, I probably didn't appreciate them enough when I had them.
Ah, youth is wasted on the young or so I've heard.
Would I go back and change anything if I could?
No, for to do so would not necessarily be for the better and would wipe out the good that has come of this adventure that is, laughingly, called Life. Ah, so many soapboxes, so little time, and energy.
I chose long ago not to be a victim, slave or intimidated and have lived accordingly ever since. I replied to someone once, when cautioned not to speak, "The only thing they can do is kill me."
My favorite phrases are:
"Lead, follow or get out of the way."
"Works for me."
"Smoke and drink to your hearts content, there are far too many people on this planet anyway."
"The only really safe intimate contact, is none at all."
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
"Never ask someone to do something you are not willing to do yourself."
Be well;
Zaffen
"Death smiles at us all. We can but smile back."~The Gladiator
DEATH
Death is feared,
By nearly all it seems,
Never thinking what it really means.
Christians,
Want to go to Heaven,
When they die.
Atheists,
Profess to believe,
Not in Deity.
Some,
Believe in Nirvana,
As is their right.
Others,
In purgatory,
There to await their plight.
None want to die but,
All pass with Death,
Clasping their hand.
Leading gently,
All to a distant,
Strand.
Death,
Is not malicious,
Nor vicious.
Friend,
When time is ended.
When Death smiles,
Smile back.
That is all,
By nearly all it seems,
Never thinking what it really means.
Christians,
Want to go to Heaven,
When they die.
Atheists,
Profess to believe,
Not in Deity.
Some,
Believe in Nirvana,
As is their right.
Others,
In purgatory,
There to await their plight.
None want to die but,
All pass with Death,
Clasping their hand.
Leading gently,
All to a distant,
Strand.
Death,
Is not malicious,
Nor vicious.
Friend,
When time is ended.
When Death smiles,
Smile back.
That is all,
We can do,
My friend.
In the stillness of early morning,
When the air is fresh and cool,
We, the Earth and I, share a moment,
Wherein is found an ancient, primal,
Spirit, the long spiral of Life and Death,
Constant Laughter overlaid with constant Mourning.
Only the Earth remains in the end,
I but a passenger living my Life apace,
Learning to be content with the time,
I have been allotted on this plane,
Little, true, understanding of the intricate balance,
In the seeming chaos of creation and destruction.
Seeking to know all but at last knowing nothing,
We return as we came, all pretense is gone,
Others care for us, if we are lucky,
Or, if not, we fall where we are when our heart,
Full of a Life’s work and toil, rests at last,
Mother Earth and I becoming one as I hear a faint,
Whisper....Welcome Home my Son.
Egress
We tremble at the thought,
Of what might be beyond.
So many conflicting beliefs,
On what or who is God.
Some pray to many,
Others only one or none.
We pass on,
Ending the game.
Arriving alone,
Naked as we came.
Vanity
The day we’re born,
We begin to die,
Pausing to cry,
And mourn,
A life too short.
This we do from day one.
The young grow,
Beginning to know,
The skills it takes,
To attain their goals.
These with diligence honed.
Never noting the path’s decline.
Youth in full bloom,
The path to the tomb but,
Ever striving to reach the Sun,
Finding journey’s end,
Before their done.
Wondering where all has gone.
"Vanity of Vanities,
saith the Preacher,
Vanity of Vanities,
All is vanity."
Ecclesiastes 1:2
Abyss
Sadness unbidden, all engulfing.
Stress, the mind feeding upon it’s self.
Ever deeper the suction pulls,
Whirlpool of regret for things done and undone.
Round and round going faster,
Always knowing it will lead to disaster.
Losing sense of time and place,
Feeling lost in any case.
Seated gun in hand,
Thinking over the last of plans.
As gun rises a thought intrudes,
Promises made to those so young.
Hearing, “ You promised to pick us up,”
Young ones left to morn.
A sliver of light penetrates the dark,
Igniting a very small spark.
Hesitation and insight,
Of wisdom seen to be in doubt.
Plan deferred for now at least,
I still have promises to keep.
Another day could be the one,
To reach again for the gun.
Fighting to keep the dark at bay.
While you it seeks to slay.
Learning slowly that life just is,
No matter what someone says.
Breaking the circle of darkest thought,
Lighting the way to sanity hard fought.
In this case a child did lead,
Out of pure childish need.
Sensory
Overload
Overload
Sorting the mass of information,
We receive each day,
Is daunting at best.
Our eyes are taxed from observation,
Of all the images that come our way,
Putting those optics to the test.
Ears assaulted by audio sensations,
Where ever we turn during the day,
Always someone touting the best.
Noses assailed by scents of temptation,
For things they say,
We shouldn’t get.
Our tongues lust for libations,
Sweet in taste,
Then blood for sugar we test.
We reach in expectation,
To grasp in haste,
All that we bet.
What then the limitations,
On a soul sated,
No limit set.
Depression,
Waste,
Death.
Chains
People seeing what they want to see,
Regardless of fact or truth,
Not caring what the damage might be.
Blindly chanting someone else’s refrain,
Never asking for the proof,
Listening to the media’s mad strains.
Honor, Duty, Country they disdain,
Better a One World order they hoot,
Knee jerk reaction that is plain.
Lie, steal, cheat with half true claims,
Anything to empower their group.
Never thinking to find themselves in chains.
In a heart beat it can change,
From freedom to slavery in a bloodless coup,
Led by the ones that pulled their strings.
Power is what’s to gain,
Never stopping to think who,
Will suffer the pain.
“It can’t happen,”they exclaim,
To blind to see the boot,
Not even aware of the game.
Democracy is work t’is plain,
Some would rather play the fool,
Whining when things don’t go their way.
Proudly they hammer their own chains.
Dark Side of the Moon
Suave continence,
Smooth and sleek.
How to speak,
The unspeakable.
Delve into the Abyss,
Where awaits mist and darkness.
Mind numbing fear,
Raving lunatic holding hatred dear.
Visions of death and distruction,
Wishing to kill and reading the instructions.
Shifting images of past, present or future events,
Never allowing the foul stench to vent.
An accident that isn’t,
Or a poison hidden.
Smothered with stealth,
Not for wealth.
To kill, just to be,
Outside the mainstream and free.
A predator stalking it’s prey,
In the evening dark and gray.
No one and nothing in particular,
Only to placate the hunger.
Kill and feel the adrenaline rush,
As from another, life is crushed.
Primal in ferocity,
Not fit for polite society.
Hidden deep inside,
The twisted corridors of the mind.
T’wouldn’t do for thoughts be known,
There'd be few to condone.
Ever playing the buffoon,
Never showing the dark side of the Moon.
Within Sight
Trackless waste,
Only mountains to break,
The endless space.
Hot, dry, uninviting.
Between the striving,
Ages gone petty Kingdoms fighting.
What was the cause of strife?
This place where lives little life?
What then the cause of this fight?
Needing to flex their might?
A perceived slight?
Greed for all in sight?
Sandstorms might,
One lone fighter,
Comrades lost from sight.
Walked then crawled till,
All strength expired,
Waited for the dawn.
Death came to claim him,
Just as Dawn broke the horizon,
Revealing, within sight, the Oasis to save him.
Only the wind,
And ever shifting sand,
Are both witness and historian.
Visions
Drifting in clouds of velvet White,
Body seeming, feather light.
No fright or pain.
To remain this way.
N’ere return to lighted day.
T’would be bliss.
The clouds begin to thin.
Below a scene of ancient din.
Quiet now.
No strife, quiet abounds.
Equal in Death’s embrace.
No difference, now, what race.
Bones bleached but no disgrace.
Nobel the stand, only their fate.
Lonely place.
Ancient place.
O’re taken by Time,
Winner of all.
The clouds thicken once more.
I grow heavy, a bore.
“Not now,” I implore.
Eyes open, pain returns,
My heart yearns.
I should have been among the fallen and never returned.
Facets
of the
Mind
Facets
of the
of the
I can’t be awake.
It must be a dream.
Too many things.
Too much seen.
Am I DEAD!??
Cannot be,
Still I see.
Which way up?
Which way down?
Have I gone insane!??
What is it,
That I see?
Boats,
How can that be?
How many are there?
What do they mean?
They’re not moving.
What of me?
I can’t look down.
Dare not lest I see,
Nothing below.
Just water,
As far as the eye can see.
No end in sight.
Just watery Blues and Greens.
Will I awake,
A faint memory this?
Stay forever,
In this watery abyss?
Again the boats.
No wind blows,
But sails billowed.
From all directions,
So it seems.
I feel it not.
Nothing to frighten.
Why do I fear?
Nothing to harm anywhere near.
But still I tremble.
Mother
Nature
Nature
Nature noted, but seldom seen,
Belly bloated with endless seed.
Replenishing what is depleted,
In a cycle so often repeated.
Taken for granted, sad to say,
Until a spoiled child comes our way.
Then it’s up in arms, rile and pray,
Till, anger and fury spent, it goes away.
Wonderful Mother nurturing all,
No matter, Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall.
Each of her offspring, knowing the call,
To gather for hard times or sleep till the thaw.
Legs spread, from her womb ever flowing,
The continual growing.
There is death of course,
But not before intercourse.
So that each species on earth,
Can give birth.
Ensuring that life is always planted,
On this, small Blue and Green, Planet.
Prey
Night in the jungle,
patches of dark and light.
Pathways, byways, crawl ways, and tunnels,
Flitting, cover to cover, feet moving silently.
Stalking its, would be ,
prey.
The scent of fresh meat,
Heady, intoxicating, causing drool.
Pausing in time with its prey,
It cannot afford to be the fool.
Timing is everything,
A matter of life and death.
Too soon, it could be the prey,
Too late, hunger remains,
But as pain.
It must dine or die,
Drawing ever closer to the time.
Behind and to the side,
Lest the prey turn and spy,
Its fate.
Time to spring and slay,
The unsuspecting prey.
In mid leap it sees,
The prey turn holding a stake.
Moments before eye light fades,
Realizing too late.
All along the way,
It was the prey.
Mantel
und Degen
With Dawns early light,
Comes the breaking of the night.
Creeping slowly across the land.
Creatures stir and the great trees stand,
Tall and firm upon the land.
To shade the creatures from the harsh sunlight.
Scurrying about in their busy little lives,
Never raising their eyes to the far away sky.
To see from whence their blessings flow.
From distant lands the breezes blow,
Scattering seeds on the land below.
Gently landing on the carpet of the forest floor.
Clouds gather as the rain begins to pour,
Allowing the seeds into the ground to bore.
Down below they sprout and grow.
Where nobody see’s and nobody know’s,
Spreading their tendrils while above it snows.
Till, at last, in the Spring they shove through to the light.
There to grow with all their might.
Until the little creatures come into sight,
To feed.
There under the great trees.
In the breaking of Dawns early light.
I hope you've enjoyed this sampling of my art/s.
Bell well;
Zaffen
Mantel
und
und
With Dawns early light,Comes the breaking of the night.
Creeping slowly across the land.
Creatures stir and the great trees stand,
Tall and firm upon the land.
To shade the creatures from the harsh sunlight.
Scurrying about in their busy little lives,
Never raising their eyes to the far away sky.
To see from whence their blessings flow.
From distant lands the breezes blow,
Scattering seeds on the land below.
Gently landing on the carpet of the forest floor.
Clouds gather as the rain begins to pour,
Allowing the seeds into the ground to bore.
Down below they sprout and grow.
Where nobody see’s and nobody know’s,
Spreading their tendrils while above it snows.
Till, at last, in the Spring they shove through to the light.
There to grow with all their might.
Until the little creatures come into sight,
To feed.
There under the great trees.
In the breaking of Dawns early light.
I hope you've enjoyed this sampling of my art/s.
Bell well;
Zaffen
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