Cogito Ergo Sum (Rise Up – Part 3)

we are on a journey

on a quest

into the darkened heart

that of life, doubts and dreams

the search for proof of life



strength in life, rests on doubt

accept that which you know to be true

are dream states virtual reality

is life one constant dream

what is real?



let knowledge be your secure foundation

not the imagination thereof

but the doubt thereof

let the doubt be our proof of life

doubt creates sanity



life is stronger than anything the mind can invent

what is real are our thoughts

doubt your senses

doubt your existence

rise up and claim your reality

think,

therefore, you live

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Why I write Poetry

Writing is an art form and all art is a means of self expression. I weave words not yarn; mix metaphors not paint; rhythm words not chords. Words are my brushes and paper is my canvas. Poetry is the screen shot, screen grab of the writing world, fitting as much as possible in a succinct concise form. It is the literary equivalent of a selfie, a tweet – the Instagram of writing. Poems are this poets answers to the “Why”, attempting to satisfy my urge for closure, even if it is not forthcoming (which often it is not). Everyone is has to figure out there own “Why”, even this poet.

But Why ??

Writing poetry is able to put us in touch with people who are different from ourselves in a non-violent fashion, it becomes a means of pacifist activism. Writing has become who I am, it is both cathartic, healing, confrontational and a means of seeking (partial) closure or venting my darker emotions. My poems are a mix of thoughts, questions and ideas; from journey’s travelled, literal and imaginative; creating a picture of the world from my perspective. Even if, in the writing, there is no closure, that is the closure I require, at that moment.

“Poets have an audience because we need to know how to go about reaching the next day of our lives.”

It has been said, to use a bad metaphor: Poets are kind of like canaries in a coal mine. The conscience/voice of the voiceless. Often my poems, emerge from the pain of personal experience, leading to angry outbursts against the coal mine, in which I from time to time, find myself.

The Arrogance of Entitlement

The Banality of Corporate Deceit

Speaking for myself, but I’m reasonably sure other poets would at times agree. We can’t explain ‘why we write’, but they would certainly understand and agree, that we write for the love of writing poetry. Poems are literary mountains that need to be climbed, in a page or a few lines;  the poem has to be condensed, without straying from the main theme, and it also usually has a beginning, middle and (sometimes) an end. It is this journey which is the challenge, in most cases a deeply personal journey; so walk with me as we step back from your reality and gaze into the abyss of my mind, and let’s see what stares back.

In closing, ponder the words of John Keating from the film: Dead Poets Society.

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.
And the human race is filled with passion.
And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
To quote from Whitman:
"O me! O life!...of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless
of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?"
 
Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play (goes on) and you may contribute a verse.
 
What will your verse be?

John Keating, Dead Poets Society.

A poet writes poetry because they love poetry

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

A Day (Life) of Remembrance

“Nonintervention does not mean that nothing happens.

It means that something else happens.”
Christopher Hitchens

On this day when we remember the fallen, lets gave pause for thought, to the boys forced to become men, to become killers. In silent contemplation, I at times shout out to my silence; why do we discard our best and brightest to senseless conflicts. The hopes and disappointments of generations of young (mostly) men/boys are always dashed at the altar of political expedience and greed. Young men fighting old men’s wars. The First World War poets have always stuck a deep chord on my soul and I reread the poems and contemplate deeply on the what, why, how and the loss. The poetry of Owen, Rosenberg, Blunden, Gurney and Sassoon are those that I turn to when I need to pause and think, why is this world so fucked up?

Consequently, I have put my pen to writing about war, and the effect it has had on me; as who served, and on our youth and the broader society. Here are some of the poems I have written with a precise of what inspired/motivated me to to put pen to paper. Not in the same league as Owen and Sassoon, but hopefully it will cause you dear reader, to pause, and reflect as to where we are going in this crazy world.

The Forgotten Soldier

Upon reflecting on my time in the military/war as an Ops Medic, my mind flitted around the war, in which I was involved, and its unpopularity (in my opinion) and the baggage that one carries after the fact. The PTSD that soldiers carry with them for life, but that society has long forgotten, especially if the war was unpopular. Sting said: “History will teach us nothing” in some respects he is true.

Fuck War

The passing of Muhammad Ali gave me pause for reflection on the issues of war, forcible conscription and all that goes with it, he went to prison rather than be drafted to serve in Vietnam. I then reflected back on my time when I was forcibly conscripted in 1981 and my battle with the process of all that is war.

My Enemy is My Friend

This arose from a dream I had, which then made me think back to a Wilfred Owen poem I read, “Strange Meeting”. Upon further reflection I cast my mind back to when I was an Ops Medic in the bush war in 1981/82 and the time I spent treating patients at the main POW camp in the now Namibia. My thought process then meandered through a montage of past present and future. It was a difficult poem to write but the words just spilled out once I began.

White Feathers

Penned this on the International day of Peace in Sept this year.                                                 To quote John Lennon: Give Peace a chance.

…. and a few others:

Mist of War

Peace in our Time

The 1% War

© 2018 michael d emmerich

© 2018 mikesnexus.com

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Every Breath (Rise Up – Part 2)

every breath is a doorway

to heaven or hell

so just breath

and see what awaits

as you pause to exhale


by not breathing

we are forced to choose

heaven or hell

but let not fear inspire

either mortality or immortality


let Virgil be your guide

through the mythical dark wood

of spiritual values

that at times

pervert human intellect


the pilgrims journey

demands questions be answered

within the dark forest

on a crooked path

the meaningful can become meaningless

as we journey on a quest

into the soul of god

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Rise Up (Part 1)

when you down who lifts you up

when you lost who finds you

when you fall, it is from grace

if so, whose grace


who is lost with you

who binds the wounds

who do you discover when you are down

yourself or another


what waits over the horizon

what lies beneath the wounds

what lifts you up

come on rise up


we rise by lifting others up

we discover ourselves when lost

we need not be alone

come on stand together


every breath is a doorway

to heaven or hell

so just breath

and rise up

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Crossing Over

winter fast approaches

mist hangs over the river

the breath of ghost’s past

drifts out my silent open mouth

winter comes

but not yet



standing on the banks

of the river that runs through life

rubicon or styx

the boatmen cometh

which ferry to take



I gaze across the river

sinking in the past and present

an uncertain future

Darlin' give me your kiss

only you understand



the summer sun breaks through

the red mist parts

I gaze upon your face

feel your breath across my cheek

Rubicon awaits



unfinished business in summer

cannot cross over ….

Yet

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

The Tide is Turning

any day now

the tide will turn

any night now

a full moon sets

a new moon rises

a new dawn fast approaches

when used correctly

it turns the tides of war

morning is not broken

new dawn

new life

new hope

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

 

Everybody Dies

everybody dies

but not everybody lives

life without living

death without dying

 

walk through forests filled with demons

avoid the the paths

live a little

get lost

 

chase the demons

don’t let them chase you

catch a demon by its tail

then let it go

 

laugh in the face of death

one life

live it

love your life

 

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Tanka – 5 Lines

The Tanka poem is very similar to haiku but Tanka poems have more syllables and it uses simile, metaphor and personification. There are five lines in a Tanka poem. Tanks poems are written about nature, seasons, love, sadness and other strong emotions. This form of poetry dates back almost 1200 years ago. Here is my first attempt 🙂

any day now tides turn

a full moon sets new moon rises

any night now just wait

 a new dawn fast approaches

 this morning is not broken

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Morning Dew

a new day dawns

the same as yesterday

but it is oh so different

dew glistens across the valley

casting fast disappearing rainbows

chased by bleeding colours across the sky

a new palette of shades awaits

grasp that brush

visualise your perfect picture

experience new found colours

and shadows

beauty whilst transient is eternal

serendipitous blessings in each new moment

reach out and grasp the day

this ephemeral beauty

must not escape

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich