Dec
20
1986

Regiments

by Stephen Messer

Long, straight; see the swells
Marching – regimented – across a farther sea.
Too far removed are regimented waves
From marching regiments
Time past has introduced and left behind.
Regiments marching stepping
Marching to their battle cries;
Horribly beweaponed, hardly able to show
Humanity in their dehumanistic ranks.

Regimented waves travel oceans undaunted
To pound their fury on an inanimate shore;
Our marching faces, stepping
Marching stepping, still horribly beweaponed,
Dauntless cross farther borders in
A quest of leaders’ greed,
Ready to pound another’s fury on the
Animate annals of history.

Watery and semi-human regiments both show unity
In straight and uniform lines,
Marching as one:
One unit of ocean or faction or nation.
But I shun to think
That only inanimate waves
Show the mercy
Animate men should have.

posted in Oceans, Poems, Social | No Comments

Dec
14
1986

Eye for Eye

by Stephen Messer

I have been in Death’s dark womb,
And I have seen in Death’s bright tomb,
Things of life we all demand
And clutch and grab from the hand of man
To feed an earthbound misery
With the suffering that is bound to be:
Bound eternally to squander
The hopes and fears of the ones who wander
Over this crust of this dark earth
From the time of Death, until Rebirth.

What in life did not appear
As realized hopes or quandary fears,
Does beyond release the tenure
It has on man’s inhibitive sensure
And a freedom to experience pain
Becomes man’s option once again.
So pitted in his earthly plight
In Death or Life man still must fight
To break away chains of desire
That have man fettered in this hell’s fire.

What in Death there does not seem
As recollected from recurring dreams:
Visions of bodily termination
And spirit cast unto damnation.
Damned again to relive lies
And pay back debts, eye for eye.

posted in Metaphysical, Poems, Social, Songs | No Comments

Nov
26
1986

Into the Glow

by Stephen Messer

Into the glow
I project myself.
Into a fire,
Where, after fire’s burn,
Fires of ten thousand years,
Fires of and through
History itself,
Appear.

Contemplation takes hold:
Krakatoa alive;
Dresden ablaze;
Rome – dead.

The crematoriums;
The furnaces of Auschwitz.

The blaze;
A tool which for man
Works both ways.

I bring to life
In these coals,
Visions from younger days
And the Australian bush
Regenerated after the fire,
A bush that thrives
And lives through and survives
Its natural fires.

Then I remember
The ashes that remain
After the conflagrations
Of man’s making,
That perforate history.

The fire of man
Whether as tool or as weapon
Too easily turns against him,
And too easily can be turned.

And there is another fire I see,
Ten thousand thousand trees ablaze,
The cloud rising ever
Upward and outward
In its efficiency of destruction.
Man’s preparation for
His own extirpation.

But on this fire man
Will remain dependant.
On the fire supplied
By nature.
Dependant for his
Livelihood,
And his destruction.

posted in Poems, Social | No Comments

Nov
20
1986

One Conflagration

by Stephen Messer

One conflagration –
Wrought from nation to nation.

One time bomb:
Inconglomerable nations.

One battle for an earth
Untainted by false worth.

One scream of hope
For other than the scream of death.

One smear of light
To eradicate all darkness.

One unearthly fire
To burn away earth’s desire.

One scream of hope
For other than the scream of death.

One conflagration –
Of a race in self destruction.

posted in Poems, Social, Songs | No Comments

Nov
04
1986

An Apology

by Stephen Messer

Poor Earth,
I’d apologize for man,
But the sad truth will remain
And man will commit again
His adulteries of you.

posted in Poems, Social | No Comments

Nov
02
1986

Far From All

by Stephen Messer

How inadequate are the words that come to mind
When trying to do justice to your kind.
You know your looks are those that people die for.
I know your looks are far, far from all.

No marble ever captured such radiant eyes as those
That adorn the sculptured innocence of the face I do behold;
And your body shows its age, but shouts its youth at me.
With every move and gesture – your beauty flaunted unknowingly.

An innocent spirited outlook on life, like yours I’d treasure,
If you’d only allow me time to share and enjoy that pleasure.
For like no other, I could help your spirit grow,
Through the love we, on each other, could, as friends, bestow.

When I look into and through those clear and confident eyes
Your false-bottomed, shallow stare fails to disguise
The depths within to which your spirit really goes –
The depths to which I’d reach if you would let go.

Your soft complexion aglow, with youth’s own spritely fire;
Matched by a jovial complacency, few teens ever acquire.
Hands firm and independent, but gentle in their caress;
My desire’s to take and hold them, and assure your happiness.

I’d take you as my lifetime friend, and let you see
Your many paths in life, and then I’d set you free.
You may prove your beauty’s deeper, far deeper than it seems,
For your spirit’s where your beauty lies, waiting for release.

posted in Introspection, Poems, Social | No Comments

Oct
28
1986

Turning Point

by Stephen Messer

There is a turning
Point in life
Where values change,
A time when one’s
Priorities are rearranged,
New goals are set in
The light of new
Knowledge gained.
Old ways are passed
And left behind.
(But always remain,
As conscious, and
Unconscious memory.)

Material goals and
Desires may be
Realized immediately,
But the ones that make
More sense, and have
More intrinsic long-term
Meaning, cannot be
Realized before, from this
Plane of life we are freed.
And until death
It may not be known
What in life we should
Be doing.

Surmise we can, though,
And change our path,
Attempting to decide where
Our future lies:
But whatever’s done now
Shall be answered for
In another time, as the
Things about us are
Seeds long ago sown.

This turning point in
Life; a time of contemplation,
A weighing of many
Alternatives, and projection
Of many more hopes;
Hopes as yet unrealized,
And hopes, controlled by
Desires we may or may not
Understand.

I am now at that strange
Period, that pondering time:
The turning point in life,
And have been for
Twenty-two years.

posted in Introspection, Poems, Time | No Comments

Sep
21
1986

Pain

by Stephen Messer

The affliction of the physical state:
A state of body and state of mind,
The state in which you find yourself;
The sensation signalling what’s not right
For naught is right within this state,
This, the realm of pain.

Excruciating pleasures of the flesh
To which your spirit remains attached
Until the death you fear so much
Takes away the foreboding tenure
Pain does hold over many mortals
Caught in this realm of pain.

Naught within this wretched realm
Can ever be without this pain,
For pain’s affliction is a part
Of the learning struggle life imparts
On all who dare to live.
Such is the affliction of life.

The pain administered shall return
To whoever fears or never reasons
That life is a struggle to learn.
The fear of pain, or fear of life
Is only a creation of mind.
Just as pain is a product of mind.

posted in Metaphysical, Poems | No Comments

Sep
17
1986

Waiting

by Stephen Messer

Waiting for the time to go.
I want to feel the time go.
Waiting for the time to go,
I want to feel the time go,
I want to know it’s gone.

posted in Poems, Time | No Comments

Sep
12
1986

My Desire

by Stephen Messer

Many things of Earth
Are longed for
By many people
For whom Earth
Is home.

People long for money.
People long to be free.
People long to be happy.
Things they aren’t,
They long to be.

It is people’s
Misconception,
That happiness is
To be found,
In the things of
Earth around.
But mere enlightened
Perception,
Would have them know
That happiness can
Only be found
Within.

Their desire is
Focused on these,
Futile and temporary
Though they be,
In delusions of
Happiness;
For their Desire is free.

Already possessed
Is the freedom
They Desire:
Freedom of Desire.
All that need be done
Is for Desire to be
Focused on One;
Oneness, that is
Happiness,
That is bliss;
Oneness,
That is;
That has more
Value than value;
That no money can
Buy.

But to try
To suppress desire,
Is to suppress the
Active part of
Life itself.
To focus one’s desire
Shall key one in
To the vast wealth
That is the universe.

People are all;
And everything.
For people then
To want to be
What they are not,
Is based in people’s
Misguided fantasy.

People have Desire,
And the Consciousness
To decide;
They have all they need
To be and get
All they want.
Which is all they
Have.
All their
Wishes,
If they’d be
Aware of the vast
Mystery –
The Oneness
That should be their wish,
Can be theirs.

Their only wish
Should then be
To have no wish.

posted in Metaphysical, Poems | No Comments

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