Submissions by runningturtle87
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
If it's not intimate, what's the point?......................
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Jul 2012 9:14pm
8th Jul 2012 9:14pm
On the Lips of Reality
The union
of the eternal recurrence
of the same
and reincarnation
is that we choose
the lives we live,
to live over and over
endlessly
in a variety
of metaphors
as we dance our song
of divesting ourselves
of our dogmas,
until at last,
with Rumi,
the ecstatic love
of soul
unites itself
with the previously
unintregrated,
and we become
wholly ourselves,
one
with all,
and lovers again,
once more,
as always,
and in each life time
making time
with the...
of the eternal recurrence
of the same
and reincarnation
is that we choose
the lives we live,
to live over and over
endlessly
in a variety
of metaphors
as we dance our song
of divesting ourselves
of our dogmas,
until at last,
with Rumi,
the ecstatic love
of soul
unites itself
with the previously
unintregrated,
and we become
wholly ourselves,
one
with all,
and lovers again,
once more,
as always,
and in each life time
making time
with the...
760 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th Jul 2012 11:51am
8th Jul 2012 11:51am
The Moment of Satori
Hours later, still awake, but have written myself out of a corner,
working on reducing the limitations, opening the path ways,
and dining on organic kale and fresh fish
while I begin the see that the light in my eyes was facing out
not blinding me from an outside source: Enlightenment!
runningturtle87
working on reducing the limitations, opening the path ways,
and dining on organic kale and fresh fish
while I begin the see that the light in my eyes was facing out
not blinding me from an outside source: Enlightenment!
runningturtle87
893 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th Jul 2012 2:09am
7th Jul 2012 2:09am
Hot as Hell: To Give It a Complete Name
87, one more than dead,
like Lincoln reasoned, and then he said,
to honor the ground where so many had died,
the count of these billions
the cost of the lies.
How much more poison will balance the sheets?
How many lives will be worth these fleets?
Will ever there be enough 'til it's gone?
Maybe just maybe when we've sold the farm!
The glaciers, and oceans, and beaches and more
bring it all down and pull down the shore.
Lift it and raze it and concrete the patch,
and till it all up and light up a match!
If we can make a thin...
like Lincoln reasoned, and then he said,
to honor the ground where so many had died,
the count of these billions
the cost of the lies.
How much more poison will balance the sheets?
How many lives will be worth these fleets?
Will ever there be enough 'til it's gone?
Maybe just maybe when we've sold the farm!
The glaciers, and oceans, and beaches and more
bring it all down and pull down the shore.
Lift it and raze it and concrete the patch,
and till it all up and light up a match!
If we can make a thin...
715 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Jul 2012 3:57am
6th Jul 2012 3:57am
The Mirror
I'm listening,
to you................
what's the next vista?
Quantum psychology.....
empathy and judgment
cannot occupy
the same mind.
The paradox
of being
is that dreaming
or awake,
it does not matter
as long as
I live free
of all dogmas....
Each perception
is its own
fossilization
of thought.....
mindfulness
thus becomes
apprehension
by detached
awareness.....
anywhere then.............
just lead....
runningturtle87
to you................
what's the next vista?
Quantum psychology.....
empathy and judgment
cannot occupy
the same mind.
The paradox
of being
is that dreaming
or awake,
it does not matter
as long as
I live free
of all dogmas....
Each perception
is its own
fossilization
of thought.....
mindfulness
thus becomes
apprehension
by detached
awareness.....
anywhere then.............
just lead....
runningturtle87
693 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Jul 2012 8:16pm
5th Jul 2012 8:16pm
Eons of Time Lost in an Instant
"How were we to know,"
they whispered,
"how it'd all turn about,
if we'd need an out?"
when they started to shout,
"Hallelujah, we're going home!"
Headed like men uphill,
they tossed in for a thrill,
the multimegaton bomb
the battles they'd won
the time and its location.
The place on the map
the current and weather
and dog in the lap
the faithful and loyal
all true to the leather,
all cried,
"Hallelujah, we're going home!"
Was it some notion
of perpetual motion,...
they whispered,
"how it'd all turn about,
if we'd need an out?"
when they started to shout,
"Hallelujah, we're going home!"
Headed like men uphill,
they tossed in for a thrill,
the multimegaton bomb
the battles they'd won
the time and its location.
The place on the map
the current and weather
and dog in the lap
the faithful and loyal
all true to the leather,
all cried,
"Hallelujah, we're going home!"
Was it some notion
of perpetual motion,...
714 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jul 2012 3:28pm
5th Jul 2012 3:28pm
Ironic
She asks where I am going
and I say, "Nowhere."
"What are you going to do?"
she asks.
I say, "I don’t know."
The irony is that
I waited 40 years
for her
to talk
to me,
and the only time
she can bother
is when
I am walking
out the door?
Ironic.
Ironic
like running out
of gas
on the way
to the delivery room.
Ironic
like choking
to death
on bread
your mother baked.
Ironic
like your mother
telling you...
and I say, "Nowhere."
"What are you going to do?"
she asks.
I say, "I don’t know."
The irony is that
I waited 40 years
for her
to talk
to me,
and the only time
she can bother
is when
I am walking
out the door?
Ironic.
Ironic
like running out
of gas
on the way
to the delivery room.
Ironic
like choking
to death
on bread
your mother baked.
Ironic
like your mother
telling you...
924 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jul 2012 11:17am
5th Jul 2012 11:17am
Too Little, Too Late
There was a time
when he would have stopped
everything
to talk with her;
the sun and moon and stars
would wait for her,
but then the day came
when silence was all
she got back
and she waited her turn
but it never came
because she had held too tightly
to her words
and they had lost
their significance
in the emergencies
of life
for the siren
of her being
to be heard.
runningturtle87
when he would have stopped
everything
to talk with her;
the sun and moon and stars
would wait for her,
but then the day came
when silence was all
she got back
and she waited her turn
but it never came
because she had held too tightly
to her words
and they had lost
their significance
in the emergencies
of life
for the siren
of her being
to be heard.
runningturtle87
1059 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
4th Jul 2012 3:40pm
4th Jul 2012 3:40pm
Between
Look
and you will find
some reason
to believe
what your subconscious mind
is asking
for you
to become aware of;
for there,
in the ashes,
are the signs and indications
of your new thinking,
each idea buried,
layered like a symbolic voice,
speaking
to the inner guidances
of your own personal iconography,
the superstition
that you alone
can respond to,
continuing to misguide
or otherwise
to inform you
of your own sense
of reality
and allowing you
to rationalize
that...
and you will find
some reason
to believe
what your subconscious mind
is asking
for you
to become aware of;
for there,
in the ashes,
are the signs and indications
of your new thinking,
each idea buried,
layered like a symbolic voice,
speaking
to the inner guidances
of your own personal iconography,
the superstition
that you alone
can respond to,
continuing to misguide
or otherwise
to inform you
of your own sense
of reality
and allowing you
to rationalize
that...
940 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Jul 2012 3:58am
4th Jul 2012 3:58am
The Initiate
She drags her problems
to every meeting
like a ragdoll
from childhood
that has been
to every fantasy picnic,
every juncture
of immortality,
every visit
to the guru's initiation,
every moment
of sexual dissatisfaction,
every corner store house
of mythological retreat,
and every session
to self-revelation
meant to purge the humors
of their cathartic hues,
and still she dances
with a chrome headlight,
headlining the self-indulgent show,
a lethal cocktail
of charlatan braids
and the...
to every meeting
like a ragdoll
from childhood
that has been
to every fantasy picnic,
every juncture
of immortality,
every visit
to the guru's initiation,
every moment
of sexual dissatisfaction,
every corner store house
of mythological retreat,
and every session
to self-revelation
meant to purge the humors
of their cathartic hues,
and still she dances
with a chrome headlight,
headlining the self-indulgent show,
a lethal cocktail
of charlatan braids
and the...
734 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2012 10:44am
3rd Jul 2012 10:44am
Sunny Deposition
Hoping that someday
things would change
she worked it granite solid.
For nearly 40 years
she put up
with his lost sense
of humor
and military dominations
until at last
I stood
with her
in a bikini shop
on the beach
in California
watching
as she pulled down
one fly speck
after another
until the polka dots
were bigger
than the spaces
they covered,
and she stood there
asking if this one
would look better,
or if this size one
would looked better.
I was working...
things would change
she worked it granite solid.
For nearly 40 years
she put up
with his lost sense
of humor
and military dominations
until at last
I stood
with her
in a bikini shop
on the beach
in California
watching
as she pulled down
one fly speck
after another
until the polka dots
were bigger
than the spaces
they covered,
and she stood there
asking if this one
would look better,
or if this size one
would looked better.
I was working...
751 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2012 10:43am
3rd Jul 2012 10:43am
“Exotic Material”
From her canopy
she launches an all-out attack
on the hyper-spaced touch
and the power of time
to fully unpack;
her reach is abridged
with the fusion of words
whose density screams
like gaggles of birds.
All of a sudden
all caught up in flight
clouding the skies
and shading like night
drossy and dreamy
and soupy and spade
her verses come dancing
with theories all made,
and all in the midst
of her eloquent squint
the telescope flips
and shows in its view
the search
for a new,
a redefinition
of...
she launches an all-out attack
on the hyper-spaced touch
and the power of time
to fully unpack;
her reach is abridged
with the fusion of words
whose density screams
like gaggles of birds.
All of a sudden
all caught up in flight
clouding the skies
and shading like night
drossy and dreamy
and soupy and spade
her verses come dancing
with theories all made,
and all in the midst
of her eloquent squint
the telescope flips
and shows in its view
the search
for a new,
a redefinition
of...
4657 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2012 1:30am
3rd Jul 2012 1:30am
Hyperbaric Melody
The memoried trace
of her troubless face
the tone and the studious posture
the cage of her grace
the state of her lace
as it lay there had newly just cost her
nothing more then
than breaking with him
the bread of her open own soul
for this was his wish
all come to this
and now he was rice in her bowl.
runningturtle87
of her troubless face
the tone and the studious posture
the cage of her grace
the state of her lace
as it lay there had newly just cost her
nothing more then
than breaking with him
the bread of her open own soul
for this was his wish
all come to this
and now he was rice in her bowl.
runningturtle87
727 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by runningturtle87
