Poetry (Meditations) for Winners and Losers

Prologue (May 19 ,2022)

‘Poetry Meditations for Winners and losers’

A full prologue is in a prior book –

‘Poetry for a Lost Opera’, - Xilbris.com.

I was willing here   to write a 2nd book.

It was difficult going at times,

But I was willing.

If you want to help the homeless

Human or homeless animals find homes,

or write

Something that’s difficult, for the

writer,

I guess you have

To be willing –

I’ll go out on the proverbial ‘limb’

And say   if you respect former president

Donald trump or his family, and what

They stand for    this ‘booklet‘ is probably

Not for you.  

Cause, what Mr. Trump symbolizes

Basically, (at least to me): Is some kind of

Weird human concoction meat grinder/

Attack Dog/ a kind of deranged

Sick Mirage.

Sometimes it takes traversing

Hell, to get to the other side.

In this case it being Mr. Trump

And his supporters.

Other than that, hope this book

Means something to somebody.

  Thanks, if try reading...

(Glenn I.  Greenstein

glenngreenstein@aol.com )

Pre- Addendum

Man’s a master of trickery, and

   Contempt for all he can get,

Purchase, and punish   higher or

   Lower than himself -  

Beware of that man!

A poem will pull you this way

   Or that, might not let you go

Till you get it right   the right way.

   Give the heart to the quiet point,

The quiet point to the - -

Find the right inside inside

And be right with that.

Stand outside of time,

Inside of –

Stand up to fear, then go

Beyond it -)   Rushing toward life

Is like rushing toward death,

Have patience with each.

What’s inconceivable is conceivable,

   What’s conceivable you might have

Thought   does not hardly equal

  Conceivable.

Habits of place and time

And person, that nature tallies -

Our delusion of importance.

Self-less service surpasses every prayer

ever taken   here or anywhere else.

Man’s a master   of self-delusion

And trickery, moments from moments

Declare - Beware the Business of religion

And heady pulpits declaring right before

Your eyes.  Take heed rushing toward life,

Or death.  Stand up to fear, then go

Beyond it.  Be right with that.

Moments to moments.

Beware the Religion of business-  It’s

A heady retreat from the true Self.

Unyielding Emotions betray at the

Highest level conceit –  

Time, and space and gravity

Dissect each other materially and

Maternally   invade each other,

Are with each other-  grow old together,

Young together, are each and every

Together and One.

People are strange, yielding or

Unyielding, for better or worse

 Treat experience -

Liberation freedom Is a stranger   to

the ‘ideal‘ prisons sequestered –  this

Cosmos ascending or descending finds

Grace, wants to find grace.

The late fourth century Roman Catholic

Bishops and their ‘fixers’ – the Hippo Council

Left out many of the truth writings the real

Jesus followers believed in good honorable

Faith –   long ago thrown out  

or by then squandered for the

benefit of these Brutal bloody Institution’s

dogmatized gross power Fixers.

Jesus would have laughed at people

Drinking his dead ‘wine’ blood now

 and   this

so-called

Bread-body conspiracy fallow Catholic

Church Eucharist vampires espouse...

We’re either forgettable or

Dependable – These are the Two

Great opposites   out there in the

Cosmos spheres.  So it is and will

Ever be   Opposites are more than

Coincidental   Out there, very much

Out there.

Go toward the blood of Jewish Jesus,

Then retreat, retreat . .

But all is not lost, not lost.

Joy and despair Two clinging

Of the clinging’s.

There is no best, no worst in

Situations – what reality imposes.

Release the mind from the senses.

Toward the emptiness of the whole

Where the whole is One – Go toward

The blood of Jesus.  Then retreat, retreat.

There is a bright torch   a bright torch.

There are   the Two great opposites.

Never eat death   on the grounds

Of death!  Saturdays and Tuesdays

Are days of change or sameness.

What’s inconceivable is conceivable –

What’s conceivable you might

 have thought?

Jenny

    Jenny had beauty

   She had for the world

   But not enough saw her

   Nor ever could.

   Nature wills .. emboldened,  

   Emboldened her to embody

   A delicate informed resolve -

   A summit meeting bounty

   And succession.

   A thread of thoughts is

   Just one thought to the

   Universe.  Above all   to

   The universe   makes it

    Rightly correct.

   Some things must be exact,

   Many things don’t.

All in all   the body, mind,

And heart are different –

Yet can merge the same.

    I told you, Jenny:  existence a

    Plethora of stages, one after another

until   a final one and done...

Poetry   has nothing to lose

or gain - it becomes what

it is to itself.

    So, this poem will eventually

    either be closed off from the

    world or   close itself off –

 just nature’s parlay.

     When the good or bad times

     Are over, best is just fade

 Into that delicate light.

 A fine line between imagination

 And reality .. sometimes imagination

 Makes our reality.

    You gave me the songs

    You could not write,

With a sumptuous pearl smile.

Heart love was in you perfection –

A sweet spirit in God’s mind –

This love song hardly debatable.

   Jenny, such is tyranny of

   Love, iron casings of heart.

Apart from life and death

With heart surpassing somehow –

   Soul sliced into terrible

   Hard dignity.  Daunting flowering

Thighs under silent casual

Skies   a deck of cards

God enthralls.  We match coterie of

Heart and mind this existence

Without one being the other

Until madness they are.

   People can be impossibly cruel

   in unimaginable ways.  

Yet life   an asylum of moments

Cruising clouds.

Appreciate the personality

But know the person better.

When a woman says I

Love you more, does she

Mean more, more or less

Or more than what.

God, or spirit   has His

Will and ways –

Be uncompromised with life

Dance your way   to his music –

Sometimes things come to a head

Sometimes they don’t –

A thread of thoughts is

just one thought to the

universe.  Makes it rightly

correct.  Somethings must be

exact, many things don’t.

All in all   the body, mind,

And heart are different –

Yet can merge the same.

When good or bad times

are over, best is just fade

into that delicate light –

a fine line between imagination

and reality.

I told you Jenny

Such is the tyranny

Of love and heart essence –

You had a sumptuous pearl smile.

A song is a song   even when

Not written.

Nature wills, emboldened –

A delicate informed resolve.

Accruing itself.

When we go through worst

Times or best times, at

The overpass   we find who

We are   what we want ahead.

In the final analysis

Poetry be written for those

Who can accept it,

Not analyze it.

I   told you Jenny   got to

Got to add two more stanzas

And then you’ll love me...

Let’s not be like others,

Steps are not for us. –

Just a few stanzas between

Me and you.

Language, silence, music -

Tilting imagery.  Steps are

Irrelevant   now is all that

Matters   that’s real   do what’s

Right through us.  Not like others

Hearsay.

Jenny, there is silence

In language, a silence in music –

Between the language and music.

Life now so much minutia,

But what minutia Jenny,

You can never be.

   Awash in the sun

   The sea glares back –

glares into the eyes of the sun -

 off the sands reaching toward

 the heat stirrups   of their brilliant

 sheen - - soon the aroma rose petals

 will stream forth   perfuming packets of

  calcified air —

    Lifeguards shining in exotic location

    Oils   reflect authority their brand

Of youth   lovers holding hands by

Sea shore   safe

And secure in duplication of hearts.

Love is a kinder batch   than obsession.

Is kinder...

   Jenny, I saw a two-sided star

   Last night   I thought it

Was us.  Be kind.

        Be kind.

Everything is written

Without being written –

Everything is born to

Be born, everything is carried by

The wind - I did not dream

I loved you.  I did not dream

That.

Life isn’t fair, or is it?

You can peel off my skin,

A thousand layers of my skin

but still not find me.

   There’s a difference between

Truth and absolute truth.

   Your soul Jenny, was conceived

 Where beautiful souls are conceived,

   I heard that music   I heard

               That music.

Nature wills, emboldened –

A delicate informed resolve

Accruing itself. At the overpass

We find out who

We are -  

A song is a song

 when not written.

I told you   got to add two

More stanzas – I did not dream.

 I did not dream that.

A writer, don’t sacrifice a poem

   For rhyme, the lazy ear loves rhyme

Too much...  don’t bow to time

Whether for solace or need,

Constellations, treasure or creed.

 Let creation come upon you.

 Let creation come upon you.

    Embers and seas, embers

    And seas.

I told   didn’t I, JENNY:

I learned   life is life,

no matter what

Form or day considered.  

I would surely give up

This air for you I would -

I could, I could.

 Love is a

Kinder batch...  A thousand layers

Of my skin   a thousand layers ;)

  Dates of history are important

  to be put down, like angels stirring –

  why would they not be.

Errant mark stabs on paper

Editing like buffing an auto,

Just as much hand grease –

But more entry details.

Every plane we exist on

Is another plane to explore

Unless we give up exploration,

Hardship, restitution.

              ———————

Time as we know it,

Continuous, contiguous

About us, within us.

Body changes every month,

And mind to some  degree.

Nature sends us rhymes –

God or his first helpers send

Us riddles..  Jenny emerged from

Her cocoon, a butterfly.

Emerged in unimaginable ways.

Allow What’s Sweet

Love is a concerted effort, not

    to be confused with porcelain

adjunct mirrors-   always clean the

    laundry mat when wearing muddy

Shoes   never tell a fool what he or she

‘Already’ knows.   Don’t let your feet

Record the exact outline of your mind.

Escorting the mind, another matter

Altogether.

The ego can never replace itself

With any other sacrifice known

To man, reptile, aquatic,

Or plant.

I advised her to play the game,

Don’t be the game – she revised

Your all mine all the same.

That’s historic culpability if

Things go wrong instead.  Then

And now so different no time

To catch-up.  

Minor key music undercuts

Resounding principals, pause drags

Its heels from happening   allows

for some redacting directed

picture taking at the Bolshoi ballet.

The Russian political stench there

can’t seem to get rid of.

Art may reveal itself foretelling

Moribund storms.  Progress surprises other

Norms.  The ego subconscious suggests

Both of ‘us‘ have no applicable reason

Not to prefer living forever - that it

Would be foolish to think otherwise.

Blood and succor both allow the sweet

    To take hold.  Raise the subconscious

To the conscious – the clearing will be

All that clearer.  The psyche’s clever

Refuge hides stubborn undergrowth.

Man’s subconscious fight or flight

Pixel consensus stews boil,

and beyond.

Oppressors will oppress   that’s

    What they do.  Politicians steal your

Money taxed, assure ahead they’re using

    it wisely   when nothing could be farther

from any truth.

 Fundamentalist ‘priests’,

    Prophets, poachers, Pasters,

Bishops (of the flock flocking) –          

Eager, aching to steal

Your soul ‘By George’

If that’s your nameplate –

Devil’s fray, keep away:

Parishioners told

We’ll settle with that Devil,

then take care of our own.

Sermonized sermons help

If taken aside, privately mentioned

reveals to jolly Joe:

    "Blood and succor, Joe don’t

     Confuse the two."

O Lord, God, say hey

Best ready your souls’  

Soonest method possible  

English, French, Turkish or otherwise -

Sadly thus, leaving this

poor earthly body high and dry -

but that’s expected -

And subject to the nearest devil’s

Hoof and Claw.  Now that cannister

Fill token money batch   pass-around

Bench to bench   steady like good

Revenants   no Sunday culpability

if things go doomsday wrong,

assured!

Best not to be confused with

    Porcelain adjunct mirrors,

She advised your all mine

    All the same. Love is a concerted

Effort, sometimes taking too long,

    Sometimes not long enough.

But if she says - my love

Is greater than   if no

tomorrow ever came or

Comes...

Then you know   you got

It made   in that proverbial

Sanguine shade.

Straight Forward

This verse ‘alignment’   is somewhat

Straightforward   since GOD gave

Many of the words, but I’ll take

Some credit having put them

Together...

Whether you   believe me or GOD

I cannot help you, nor you me.

Our personalities we cannot avoid -

Our bodies so deeply ingrained

With our minds..  yet there

can be different levels of ‘being’

found if wanted.  

Eat, Pray, love,  write poetry in due

Course of living out one’s life, the

Only life we have this go- around

of our time amassed.  

Sticking to the paper with

Ebb and flows –

Just one option

To the abyss:  to and

Through it!  

There, you’ll find your

Truth if wanted.  Your

Truth and Self-justice –

That infinite beautiful abyss.

This body you call   your own

- is but a secondary characteristic

Of what’s more real and enduring.

Like a half- moon each fall season –

  slightly

Protruding from its middle showcase.

The Bible a smoking carcass

Of myths and innuendos... Beware

On your own terms and terminology

When read.  Bible reading, the way

was written doesn’t make for

Requisite reading – full of depressing

Sinners and oppressive sins –

Rather approach the soul

Sufficed within. Long before

You will betray others, you’ve had

To betray yourself first.

Don’t believe false, phony

‘Christians’, unsavory religions who

Say a Jesus Christ died for our sins –

No, onto yourself!   must first ‘die’   for any

AlreadyAlready done   or will

Do.   Why lay that

On a Christ?

              ———————

Character always trumps

Charisma... charisma an empty

Shell waiting to turn   on itself.

An empty shell   without much hope

For any greater return.

Soothing, imbuing, who and what.

Nothing matters, everything matters.

Poetry lends purest, time honored

Knowledge concentrated upon.  

The truths, the lies we

Tell others.  Lies, truths we tell

Ourselves.  The hidden willing, unwilling’s.

Life seizes life

Death seizes death.

Nothing matters, everything matters.

- To dissect the heart, a scalpel

Needed.  For the heart to

Dissect you, nothing else need use –

Is quite the transactional discourse

In a most personal way.

Enjoy those moments  

In the sun.

One snowflake never itemizes another,

Never exactly reoccurs.

Art evades time, yet that only

Goes so far.  But what else is the

 Human recompense.  Sticking

To the paper with ebbs and flows.

The body you call your own

Like a half-moon floating above

 Each fall season -

Knowledge concentrated

Upon.  To be aware of, to taste.

The mind stills, it goes on.

Scriptures only go so far –

Let them go.

Nothing matters

Everything matters.

Rap So

    Shall I go   to the cross

          For the fire or gently subside

              Into the temperate evening

         Waves   as they become

              Almost solid ambrosia?

             Molten scents I cannot smell

        Only adjust to   meet them with

            Sullen discourse.  A cut diamond

        Pressured and chiseled yet carefully

            Manicured to tiny edges of light,

        Merging in all our seconds...

           This life, a closed loop or

       Intuitively available.  If I didn’t

           Tell her, I am telling her now!  

       I got a thousand and three energy

            Stakes and rooms - in these

       Baffled fingers and hand warbles.

           A two- way street, one going backwards,

      The other all over the place   until it

           Intersects toward your street.

      Sometimes it is easier   to turn on a dime,

           than it is turning   on a