David Jackson

Beyond Meaning Poem by Belinda Subraman

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Beyond Meaning

There’s a seeming realness of grounded thought
and an awkward fit of another human
in our dream.
We can share space and agree
to be tolerate of illusion.
We can agree to share some meaning in our lives.

Meaning is the weight in our heads.
It could be excessive rumination,
the looped reels of life
or the invisible force behind our acting out,
the dream that makes us crazy or calm
or sure of what could never be but is.
Meaning is the assignment of the soul.

We long for the fire of illusion
that does not contradict
our earth bound reality
but rides along on a higher plane,
something that sparks the aura,
tingles the essence and
sends vibrations through the cosmos.

We long for the embodiment of love,
torn between blissful numbness
and the excitement of too much stimulation
and weighted expectations
all for reasons we do not realize
are substitutes for what we can not know.

 

Beyond Meaning poem by Belinda Subraman

You may also like Belinda Subraman’s Nurse Appreciation Poem

Songbird Poem

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SONGBIRD

And where shall we go, then
when all of the options are taken, when
all of the dreams are used up in the morning
of our discontent
And where shall we go then
when we refuse to hope
(for we have to refuse
the eternal hope) to
condemn ourselves to
the hell of
no hope.
Shall we turn then,
turn the turnstill
and get on the bus
to hell,
we shall lie down then
in the morning
of our discontent
and sleep the sleep again
which brings the new dreams
for
I cannot tell you
No
I will not tell you
of the death of hope
I will not tell you
of the birth of despair
though my hands may shrivel
and the sores may ravage me, I
will try to stand when I cannot stand
I will try to sing when I have no voice
I cannot laugh when there is only sorrow in front of me
and
I cannot cry tears of joy when all is gone
I can only hold this pen and write these words for
you
I can do no more
no words can replace the song of just one
songbird in the morning of our discontent
So
I say to you
be that songbird

Songbird – David Michael Jackson 2009
This songbird poem is reprinted from David Michael Jackson at Motherbird.com

Self Poem

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SELF

So I said to myself
Self

Where is this leading

this living

this being

where is this leading I asked in a moment

of weakness

in a moment of pure futility

maybe the only pure thing I’ve

ever

known

as pure and as cold as the

mountain stream this futility

and I have made me a home in it

a warm home with a

fire

where I can burn my moments

and watch the smoke rise up from them

to heaven.

– david michael jackson 2009