We all have found out there are laws other than disobeying gravity which
are much more subtle but just as precarious.Loyalty is for the strong
alone, even lovers bound in endless embraces cannot maintain it. They
either live in guilty remembrances or are thought of only as a momentary
escape, when trust was broken.! Livings unbounded knowledge brings into
circumstances bindings of its own. Its unfolding is not subject to any
contrite arrangement. Whatever happens is done, and there is always a
point of counterbalance which can be lived, lived with and lived for. It
is more understanding than all the fragile laws broken by humanity through
transit, from its rich spiritual resources, energy can always be
replenished, trust replaced, loyalty restored, and love of its infinite
overtures revitalised.
Stare case down
Glances up,
I move around
unanswerable annoyance
straight through to gratitude.
Just before glances
from those who knew not laughter
declared me the miserable old codger.
Now unnoticed I breathe
With sighs of relief
and deliver tomorrows ploughman
to-nights supper
so they can get a strong start.
Silence of the wind
that brightens daylight,
I pick up leaves of actual reverence
thankful for the colour still serving my eyes.
Every frightening gale swerve
I beg oceans on which
I become sea-sick to think,
and take more care with mariners,please.
The face, a name,
Click, click, remembered now,
parents, ten thousand years ago,
built up banks of feeling.
I now enjoy a second silence
at the tomb of my unknown father
and make kith and kin of everyone.
Drunk with all inquisitive hurt
which has burnt all moons of glory,
like lovers credentials, apart.
I question no more
but answer pleas.
To feel within the fulfilment of without
Is a feed back to the soul of man.
It is like the he who takes aboard
A peasant who becomes adored
Although unknown and unnamed
without the hand up of fame.
Booming throughout tune
Even now and to time not here
that sanctifies an hour, a year,
Meet those with whom we shall not toil
nor even burn the midnight oil.
Work finished, I sip the harvest of anothers trivia toasting their
efforts.
A rising sun meets its own fleeting rays in nights of days
and days of nights where there is never nothing between.
Transferring want to need, I speed in wonderment, staring into the
flickering grate, realising their feet moved through live forests I now
call coal. I feel like a terrorist without a cause, hand open, clasping
applauding their support, used without gratitude for being. That is the
main crime among others in my now.
Each day our trust lived out all the pledges made by lovers with a newness
that comes with the first realisation, but how the magnitude of its power
was held so we could live it, I will never know.
Robbed of manhoood,or womanhood, both through inflicted scars of war,
causes humble understanding to come to hand. The dead, we cannot lift to
cuddle, but their hurt we can save in the living.
Release from loneliness is a crime we all commit when in this prevailing
area of self made wound licking. Sometimes the wounds of actual hurt
get relief through sympathy. Whether we can see it or not the relief of
alleviating hurt is simple. If it can be realised then it is indeed
fortunate to have sufficient left from hurt to point another way.
No one has time to find out why so many ceased to live by choice. No one
takes up the authority of this widespread void. Or in the court of
responsibility concerned with suffering Humanity, can living be a
responsibility so beyond intention, so late to be understood.
I saw your teeth this morning, and they were not as clean as when I met you
on rememmbrance day in nineteen fifteen.The hurt past slower than my beauty
which others later devoured, but you had you not become addicted to honour
achieved by inherited feelings, you fool, instead of which I am a fool and
you are dead.
Opting out has many causes, each one differs and sympathy is not enough.
To understand in part needs experience in the very same subduing ordeal, in
fact right to the utter brink. Only is relationship seen to cause an
undoubted varying effect. Some in their intoxicating ferments of pain
gravitate like froth together, and here the steel of will mixed with hate,
venom and dispair produces self-pity which groans and grinds decent
feelings to the daylight dirt with flash points of night darkening the
soul. Necessity curbs in its relentless way much of the wanton hurt, for
strange though it be survival plays a part no matter how devious the ways,
moral fibre becomes strength of will to endure, and all this does not go
observed by those who use this pathetic pool of circumstance.
Strange though it be, law enforcement, often unwittingly like the do
gooder, aggravates rather than subdues. While he may offer lipservice
to anything for gain, he is beyond sympathy output to his fellow sufferer.
The most rare quality to find is nobleness, and when seen to operate it
is stronger than all the orders cementing flotsam that would otherwise
perish in hopelessness.
Us and them, purged by immersion, test unawareness to the limits for apart
from a code held before there is no guidance other than perceptive
instinct.
Cross worded puzzle deep in conjecture, energy as wasted as wanton
suffering is and has been held back, by overpowering fractions,but all of
human effort. Nature waiting to be used, was raped, and so it continues.
Is this but an apperatif to the meal of life not yet begun. Tangible
hope as an asset remains an undisputed birthright but manmade curtains
shut out the life giving knowledge that life still awaits to assist
humanity as yet within the womb of mother nature.
The damage of mistaken directions, pointless though they may be, will
proceed, though in time, without the hurtful past consequences caused by
confrontation, can recede into obsolescence. Thus, with positive
succesful actions a new form of social history working in reality can
begin.
In the next century political fanatiscm in hindsight will be viewed as
funny, if it were not so blindly grotesque, but liberty and freedom, as
yet a distant objective, will then as now have many red herrings across
the path to it.
To answer the same question to two different people must often be weighed
differently.
There are feelings so remote and beyond comprehension they will never be
even understood, never mind described, and for a writer to say to the
contrary is vanity.