Jan
11
1985

Souls On Line

by Stephen Messer

Tonight you see four souls on line
Each in their own world
All shining bright
Personalities for you unfurled,
Am I grasping you well tonight?
Do these sounds hold your attention tight?
What can it be?
What can it be?
What do you see?
If I only saw
I would know how best to start.

Four is what you see up here
Though one is all you
Hear and feel.
Through the pulse can you hear me call,
Your State of Decay not here concealed
Our stance is firm, without repeal
You can see the anger
Plain as can be, the anger
It’s for your own good,
If you want it.
It’s all yours for the taking.

Four souls are on line right now
Whose task is set
And aim is one.
Think higher and better and know your plight.
Your eyes scan mine – see what I mean?
All we live for, it is our being
Four souls on line,
Four souls on line.
Absorbing you,
Ourselves for you,
It’s trying, as I’ve said before.

posted in Poems, Songs | No Comments

Jan
06
1985

Conquerors

by Stephen Messer

Heaven’s waters gathered,
And moving gases alone,
Incite memories and emotions
Whose range cannot be known.
By some is felt elation;
Others fear the furies
The stratospheres release,
But few revere the beauty
In a single drop it seems,
Though they fall in millions –
Each soaking, cleansing one –
Fanned on by ocean breezes . . . .

Ah! the memories stirred:
Both those remembered and not.
Another breed of spirit
Whose reverie lay
In other than the beauty:
Theirs was and still remains
The hopeless challenge
To conquer nature’s art,
More for self-esteem
Than to be an intrinsic part
Of her perfect beauty.

Now would they but learn
To put the self aside,
And recognize the radiant
Beauty in all around,
Then always they’d be joyous,
Not only as ’tis now –
Whenever they feel they’ve conquered
The highest, fastest or longest.

But no matter what they claim,
Always,
One better remains.

posted in Poems | No Comments

Dec
30
1984

The Wanton Plane

by Stephen Messer

In the wanton plane,
This lewd domain,
The dubious cause
Remains the same:
From one to another
Non-apparent rapport.
So this is life?
Welcome to the gore!
Did you yearn for this?
Life’s blessed kiss?
Now ensnared by its
Vicarious bliss . . . .

The Solomonic drive
And feel for life:
Only one solon
I beseech thee find!

Catabolic society
Enveloping you and me;
No place for open minds
Whom through this can see.
Men – only! – think man is great.
Welcome to the pleasure state:
Addict thyself – understand the need –
On the pleasure throne, horrendous fate!
A member of the reigning species?
Thy kingdom came, and went to pieces!
With nothing of the reigning force
On side with you, what thesis
Believed you in? What vatic right
Hastened thee to win this fight
For something far beyond your grasp?
Incarcerated now by your own plight . . . .

posted in Poems, Songs | No Comments

Dec
28
1984

Child

by Stephen Messer

You are a child and yours is;
You are the one; yours will be.
Only you receive whate’er you gave;
Now you learn to give and get.
A child of a promised land?
Or a promise of a childish stand
For you are the one; yours will be
In time returned, the will of He:
The will of One, remember?
But toiling on sojourned path,
Trail of decisions made, the task,
Not meant at all in any way
To hinder, but to bloom and grow –
The blossoming Light to kindle.
Wherefore stopp’st though, stoppest me;
I am a child and can see
Just a promise made to myself
In time when all things begot.
Such as whom dare being this way –
Being and living – no attempt to stay
Within realms of Glory, or as it were,
The realms of Self – uninhibited;
These shall (as they are yet to learn)
Receive all they’ve given, and return:
Nothing’s left that doesn’t stay.
Dry, the blossom crumbles, unopened.
Solipsistic though, you child, seem,
No time is spared in all your dreams
For the countenance unduly smote
With raw physical obsession.
So you are the one, don’t you now see?
The only one, and yours alone shall be
All you answer to, or for.

posted in Songs | No Comments

Oct
28
1984

Cleansing

by Stephen Messer

So far,
Shimmering seas
Flecked with light of
Another day.
The white on blue,
Green and angry grey;
Cool tingle of wind
And foaming sea spray.
Above are white wonders,
Cable and steel,
Interrupting the breeze,
Chasing an ideal –
Onward – pounding onward –
Steadied by keel.

Though the white’s not of canvas
No romance has gone;
Nor the tree for mast
And the rope’s not of twine:
Still it’s man and the sea,
And a boat lay between –
Pounding on.

Always new horizons;
Always the same.
Only clouds and wind
And sails change.
Myriads of waves
Cleanse dirt of the mind;
The dirt of experience
Of the last land.
The hallmarks of man’s work,
Decay, dirt and dust,
Lie far over the pushpit,
Along with the persons
Whom fate introduced,
Who are now only memories,
But from whom we learnt . . .

. . . about:

Was it them or us then?
Though we know it’s us now,
For it helped us prepare
For what lay over the bow:
A moment by moment journey
Through time.

posted in Oceans, Poems | No Comments

Oct
28
1984

Is That You? (Drowning?)

by Stephen Messer

The flow and the ebb
Drag it under,
As a bubble of sound
Breaks the skin;
Only thought was
Me.

Contracting the
Final solution:
Intense –
Life into beyond;
All I ask was
Me.

No bubble here
To be reckoned,
Apparent futility
Shines through though;
Everything was
Me.

Through the haze
Comes the shock
Of what’s real:
Now I’m stuck with
What was me –
Is that You?

posted in Oceans, Poems, Songs | No Comments

Oct
28
1984

Concept

by Stephen Messer

We have an endless supply

Of this concept which never stops;

Though each instant it stands still,

Each instant is followed by another,

And no two are the same.

posted in Poems, Time | No Comments

Oct
27
1984

Lucky Victims

by Stephen Messer

It is written in words,
Though words can’t express,
And they blare and they
Wash our minds;
Describing that
Which defies description,
That can tear and
Torment a life.
What can drive a man
To his own destruction?
What can raise a man
To his own elation?
What can cause more
Tears than pain?
That bonding force
Which tears apart
Its lucky victims:
And they think that
Words are enough.

Peculiar as it is
To this species of ours,
Most fail to find this perfection:
The perfect disease
Of mind, heart and soul;
The perfect state
Which starts with two victims.
And when that two is halved,
Still there are two
Who are one.

Be it dream or nightmare,
This model we chase
Is a model for
The conjunction of souls:
When two becomes all,
While one remains one,
No model shall be sought
Nor feelings to be fought.

Letting what we live for
Be our driving, rending force:

Victims, only, feel
Every bit of the pain.

Still words don’t . . .

posted in Poems | No Comments

Aug
12
1984

Tables

by Stephen Messer

Clear the floor of wooden people
Tables and chairs need room to show
Their enjoyment of what we offer
No paranoia
Not caring for you

Tables twist with a real feel
Uninhibited movement, I smile
To see reaction, without adversion
Rhythmic motion
Such devotion

Canned applause an automatic response
From varnished bodies, from real friends
No idle chit chat, no pat on my back
Opinions they lack, that are based on fact.

posted in Poems, Songs | No Comments

Jul
28
1984

Does Silence Hurt?

by Stephen Messer

Venturing into one’s self
When silence surrounds:
Those questions raised
Only answered in doubt.
What thought could I conquer
Were hiding from truth
Not so set to hinder?

Doubtful in purpose,
Is it normal to ponder?
These feelings run away,
Only reaction is wonder.
It happens so funnily
When in seeking we try
To comprehend an infinity.

Calling from one’s self,
Relinquished by thought,
Chasing and crowding
Those feelings you fought.
Deep void thickly covered:
How well do we fare
In the trap that’s in there?

For those who listen
There are facts here,
Alone, so hard to face.
In silence is the pain.
To this page I’m left to turn:
Does silence hurt?
And we both learn.

posted in Poems, Songs | No Comments

« Previous Posts
Newer posts »

  • Recent Posts

  • Random Posts

  • Archives

  • Categories