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ethome
Member Patricius

since 2000-05-14

Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada

0 posted 2009-03-11 04:56 AM

               The shadows of dusk hide in the young eyes of couriers,
                those creaking young bones drive their engines home
                into their suburb shrines, restore the curse of
                desire and the order of child and their paths cross over
                the path makers and the blankets of lenders
                cover fixed winners. But the crisp glad faces,
                the artists of skilled sleep, their glaring smiles
                filled long with cool and gleaming white,
                walk in green pastures beyond the streets gray lid,
                beyond optics scattered in sheltered wombs,
                in the high towers, where scent nor repose reaches.

                Birds in the Beech trees, singing birds -
                whom no shelter covers, whose small wings wander
                the silvery arms of life, warbling
                sweet zest, melodies that ferry love songs
                to thrill the soul to the inner chambers, the old
                music of the woodland trails and the flight of fall Geese
                that bid adieu the scoured succulent harvest,
                throw their bright voices on the future's restless ears.

                Oh fiber dreamers. Oh concrete toilers
                of the sad cities, messengers trapped in din halls,
                in the uprising throngs of haste with the head
                chiefs drawn faces of sworn allegiance -
                greenwoods call, call from the struggling seeds,
                show me your faces - sleep in my protest tent.

                Under the coins in the wishing well
                a myriad of faces hide, the faces of children
                their love communion
                to lacking ears, isolated time, guilded minds.

                Mother's ghostly justice encircles the savage
                pirates of the perfect emerald belt,
                their blades of steel storming the ancient ridges
                valley to valley, to the great seas, sacred
                seeds, flying gypsies, left crushed on desert floors.
                In the teeming roar brass ears miss the future voices
                in the playground, seeds for whom they kill.

Robert E. Jordan
Member Rara Avis

since 2008-01-25

Posts 8541
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

1 posted 2009-03-11 01:05 PM

Yo Eric,

This is an interesting, but very complex write.

Bobby

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

2 posted 2009-03-11 10:29 PM

(..)

[This message has been edited by serenity blaze (03-12-2009 03:49 AM).]

ethome
Member Patricius

since 2000-05-14

Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada

3 posted 2009-03-12 03:16 AM

Hey Bobby

I suppose it seems that way.

Verse one's about Wall St, Bankers and commerce with those at the top being the only ones to get ahead to wallow in green pastures (money) while others have no choice but to continue on life's treadmill of materialism, not really getting ahead.

Verse two's about the call of the wild which only a small part of the population takes an interest in, yet these beautiful creatures remain positive despite the many selfish policies of mankind that continually ruin their habitat.

Verse three is about how the every day person is trapped in the ever growing technological advancements which squeeze out many emotional issues that never get properly addressed. Leaving many feeling empty and unfulfilled.

Verse four is about the ever increasing eroding values of the family unit, leaving our children looked after by others and distanced from a positive future.

Verse five is about the many sacrificed lives wasted to support distorted political decisions that allow people in the land of the free to starve to death while billions are spent on war efforts that kill beautiful young courageous men and women. On both sides. Often this is masked by propaganda claiming protection of freedom.

Enormous repair work to be done.
Some call me a pessimist but that's not true I am a realist and nothing can be accomplished without addressing the issues honestly.

Eric

Robert E. Jordan
Member Rara Avis

since 2008-01-25

Posts 8541
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

4 posted 2009-03-12 07:57 AM

Eric,

Oh.

Bobby

Earth Angel
Member Empyrean

since 2002-08-27

Posts 40215
Realms of Light

5 posted 2009-03-12 11:34 AM

Good morning, Eric. After having read your indepth explanations for each of the stanzas, I have a better understanding of ~ and a greater appreciation for ~ your poem.

"Some call me a pessimist but that's not true I am a realist and nothing can be accomplished without addressing the issues honestly."

~ It never helps to bury our head in the sand and ignore all the things that we just don't want to see. A "realist" like yourself, addresses those issues that many people are either ignorant of the facts ~ or are fearful of facing them ~ or of doing anything about them!

Peace, Light, & Harmony,
Linda

ethome
Member Patricius

since 2000-05-14

Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada

6 posted 2009-03-13 11:40 PM

Hey Celeste (Karen) Serenity

You can't be blamed for not understanding this crazy rant of mine. Too bad you deleted your post. It was just fine the way it was.

Eric

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