Musings on the Flowering Spring of Everyday Souls

[Originally published in Soul: {Anthology of Poems} & in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self] 


“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding. --Albert Einstein

Perhaps some vexed fire breathing mythical furor will immolate the
          anthropomorphic earth
Already smarting from desecration and disparagement from fellow
          anthropoids,
In a cataclysmic Inferno although already in attrition in exchange for change,
In exchange for contrition for what and who we’ve wounded,
A temporary impedimenta involving pondering our own failures to evolve
Beyond things that are tinged with an altered hue from our own…
A phalanx of obstinate, bellicose, secular, egalitarian democratic misfits flock
          the streets in gripe
Bellies full of Teutonic pragmatism & visceral dictums of right and wrong;
Adopting pioneering separatist ideologies of dissent against imperialists
Akin to The Great Pilgrimage to the Americas, a leitmotif of displacement and
          resilience
Throughout human history; proselytizing the proletariat to join their cause
          with an odious sneer!
But who am I? Perhaps a perennial philosopher:
“Cogito ergo sum” or “I think therefore I am”
Thank you Rene Descartes for your rarefied ideologies…
I am an evolving being willing to listen to others involving
In the daily duties of being human, what choice does one have? But there’s
          always a “choice”,
We can “choose” to evolve or we can simply dissolve by default…
I am grateful to be here on earth, grateful for the power of “choice”
Even as the world around me is seemingly crumbling…dissolving…
For over the years I have come to know that:
“Everything in [our lives] is happening to teach [us] more about [ourselves] so even in a crisis be
grateful…live in a space of gratitude…” Thank you Oprah Winfrey for your proletarian approach to philosophy! 

We are in a crisis of polarity that is deflowering our gardens
Pitting brother against brother, sister against sister, wives against husbands,
Dispute ideas and beliefs don’t invalidate & dismiss the people who have them,
don’t give up on each other, all deserve to be heard and understood;
Yet we still have to remember even as we hurt, we don’t have to suffer,

          However!

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with
scars.” Thank you Khalil Gibran for your tarry
          pansophy.
Open your heart to your scars, befriend your scars, let wounds of
The past strengthen and heal you rather than weaken & hurt you;
Even as we get angry, we don’t have to forfeit our ability to be joyful,
It is not happiness that makes us grateful, it is gratefulness that makes us happy…

We can find our strength in our weakness, for “God’s strength is made perfect in weakness”
Thank you Corinthians: 2. Keeping in mind that the early mystics
          perceived
God without subjecting him to tangible proof…
Name calling is the last refuge of the monosyllabic;
Be mindful of your words and resist engaging in
Gratuitous verbal violence of the morally virulent and their unconscious ilk

Amidst the clamor of contrived and nebulous directives for divisions;
Know that what’s meant for you will never miss you and
What misses you was never meant for you,
Anything that has your attention becomes your energy and manifests itself into your existence,
Evoke Immanuel Kant’s first rule in his categorical imperative
          philosophy:
“Don’t use other human beings as a means to an end”
Remember! we are products of our past not prisoners of it…
May the best of your yesterday be the worst of your tomorrow!


Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication "You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self"  & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, amazon etc...  He has been published in prestigious  publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others...Visit him at http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.

-----------------------------------------------------------
gently on the shoulder
 

i found you naked

in my bed sleeping

so quiet and i snuggled

up next to you

 

kissed you gently

on the shoulder

and told you

i love you

 

i woke up alone

 

a note on the pillow

saying thanks, you

need to buy some

toilet paper

 

i laughed and then

realized what you

used that towel for
--------------------------------------------------------
thirty some years ago
 

you ever remember

the time we kissed

under a bridge on

a rainy night thirty

some years ago

 

how all loneliness

left us

 

two souls determined

to take on the world

 

sharing cigarettes

at three in the

morning

 

two weeks later

 

you would be gone

to some other place

 

i never saw the

world the same

again
---------------------------------------------------------------------
in science class
 

earth shaking like never

before and some idiot

thinks it is the wrath

of god

 

and soon the sun will

give in to the moon

and some genius will

take it as a sign from

god to shoot up a school

or rob a few banks

 

it is pretty easy to see

who was actually paying

attention in science class

and who was busy

daydreaming about

a life they could

never ever achieve
---------------------------------------------------------
slowly come to terms
 

tears race down

my face as i slowly

come to terms with

my inevitable demise

 

i've squeezed more

talent out of apathy

than is probably

allowed

 

be thankful they

allowed you to

go this far

 

most of your types

end up in institutions

or cemeteries

 

i have a modest

urn in mind

 

ashes to be spread

in the pacific ocean

 

lord knows i'll

never make it

there while alive
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
a proverbial box
 

shooting stars have

no wishes attached

to them

 

fear is a disease

that can trap any

soul in a proverbial

box

 

sometimes i think

it would be better

to burn the fucker

down than figure

a way out



J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is stuck in the suburbs, plotting his escape. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at The Beatnik Cowboy, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Black Coffee Review, The Asylum Floor and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Unemployment

To keep body and soul
People need jobs 
A good job, a great joy
Improves man's morale

But when a man lacks a day job
His joy vanishes throughout the day
A dependent he becomes 
Brooding all day long

Long period of joblessness
Long period of joylessness
A psychological distress
That wrecks psyche

Massive unemployment
Attracts pervasive poverty
And escalates crime rates
Evils hide in unemployment


A struggle to get a job
A positive move 
That can save man 
From the pains of poverty 

If you're jobless
Get tangible activity, legit
For your daily bread
Steer clear of idleness
Idleness attracts lawless acts

Cottony Clouds

The winds of winter push
cottony clouds
before the moon
in the dark of night.
I remain,
missing more pieces
than I can gather.

The air is numbing cold 
and my shadow
has
disappeared into
frozen snowdrifts.

January
is an unforgiving month,
like
a lover in distress
who sacrifices 
reality for a dream.

There are always doubts
about
whether great love
equals great pain.
There are always doubts.

I am nostalgic and yearning
for the warmth 
of an afternoon sun.
I long for summer
I long for July,
lovely July
when
I was whole
and your smile
danced around me.

I remember
the heat
and I remember
the crisp white sheets.
I was that lover
who sought
but never saw.

rain earth cold but once the summer sun and your eyes plus birdsong I remember (for Tara)

all the time through both the nocturnal wild and the structured parts also. cold, wind, ice, and sleet. grey, dark, opaque, and even rueful. the old church and its tombstones the roof crying on the sides and the tears not flowing but racing down to the cemetery earth. poor old field mouse is probably even saturated w/that and also sadness. where did the summer and the sun of the summer go to?- once I think, there were purple and yellow wildflowers that lived on the edges of fields,- fields verdant and inside the woodland passageways great healthy vines sometimes climbed trees old and full, so full of character and warmth, of nuance and energy, robust w/the stories and spirit of the good things of the countryside.

I think, also, that your eyes were brown and spoke of many things, things of now and of ancient continents. the other souls,- well their eyes only appear brown from a distance…something to do w/the light or angle. but their eyes are green and blue and grey, things the world lauds and celebrates,- but the world is wrong, the world has everything backwards, for it is your brown eyes that are above the rest and that make the world settled and whole, no? yes. of course. I can see. you tell me about the owl and the birds and look upwards much of the time. and the birds. they always sang for you. against reason and logic I would say they never sang for me like that when i was there alone. birds and butterflies, little streams and water washed stones. I think we stopped there and watched everything and the living dream of the world was much better than it is today.

On A Beautiful Spring Day

I met you on a Sunday, on a beautiful Spring day
You watched me from the back of the church
I just walked by you and never uttered a word.

Everything was blooming and you drove by me
You asked if I'd walk by the lake with you,
On that beautiful Spring day, I smiled and nodded, "yes".

You picked me flowers and I cherished those wild flowers...

Time went by and like flowers, so bloomed our love
A year later on a beautiful Spring day, we married
Holding a bouquet of Spring flowers, I whispered, "I Do".

One day you got ill on a beautiful Spring day
With all the beautiful flowers blooming, you passed away

Years later, I stand here on a beautiful Spring day
All the beautiful flowers blooming now remind me of you

Maybe on a beautiful Spring day with the sun shining
You'll be holding wild flowers for me at Heaven's gates.

And together we will walk again, Forever...
On A Beautiful Spring Day....  




The Wings of Love

When I feel you near, at times I can't breathe
Your presence makes me sigh, and my eyes close
trying to compose my feelings that can't be denied
No doubt that even after death this love will not die
The wings of love surround us on this beautiful night
and will lift us up above the heavens to meet the moon
This memorable evening never to be forgotten and
one that will go on and on through the passages of time
I find you even in the most unlikely places of my heart
and I have new eyes that see only the most Beautiful You
I am the sky that fills you arms and heart tonight
as we dance beautifully together between the stars.



Where Love Resides

Where golden strings play songs so sweet
and the many colors of red reside
there also resides my love 

When the song of a sparrow touches my soul
and the signs of Spring show off their colors
So also shows the colors of my love

If the rains come and clouds shadow me
and if my tears fall like the drops that stream down my window
they cleanse my heart so love can shine through again

And, what comes my way, whether happy or sad
I know tomorrow will bring a brighter day
For I look to the heavens and know, the greatest love resides there



Kristy Raines was born  in Oakland, CA, USA.  

She is a poet and prose writer. Kristy is also an advocate. for the Rohingya refugees living in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.  

Kristy has five books getting ready to publish this year.  One with a prominent poet from India, Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai,  which will launch soon called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West", two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", an anthology of poems in English, "The Passion Within Me" and her autobiography called "My Very Anomalous Life."

Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing.