Sometimes, we are lost in the moment
Caught up in the flow
Adrift in our own existence
Too focused to know
We have moved forward
But, not yet perceived
That we left behind that moment
And those we thought we need
Touching spirits for an instant
To gain insight
To gain hope
Then faded those connections
Like mist at dawn
Burned away by the rising sun
Until just memories remain
And in time, even they are gone
Need is a powerful thing
A motivator grasping for gain
Until we understand
We already have everything
The emptiness is an illusion
The encounter preordained
The experience was inevitable
As the Spring rain
Life is a series of moments
That has been given since time began
To be savioured and learned from
Then, it is released as you move on
Those we encounter…meet along the path
They were sent there to teach a lesson
Abundance is within you
It’s always been in the palm of your hand.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Genocidal Justification
Lost in ideology
Hypothetical hypocrisy
Holding your moral flag high
In the face of righteous indignation
To justify misdeeds in the name of societal solidity
As calls for genocide are framed as righteous
But, only if it’s one sided
We are left to ponder the value of a people
Or a thought that can so easily justify
Bloodshed in the name of a religion
While discounting an entire people
Terror from on high or terror in the streets
What constitutes morality if you can use those you represent as a ward against retribution?
If life means so little how can you claim
A moral superiority?
To create the very bloodshed of the ones
You claim to defend, are you the really protecting anyone at all?
Accept your own agenda?
People reduced to cattle to be herded, used
Their lives nothing but expendable for political gains.
Tell me how your cause is just as you murder, hurt, rape and maim
You attack , then blame victims for your actions
Narcissistic to the extreme
As you gaslight the world to agree
That your barbarism was justified
As you demonize those you brutalized
Toxic in the extreme
Like an abusive spouse shouting to justify your means
You only show the true darkness in your souls
As the victims fight back you can’t
Hold your moral high ground
And trumpet your righteous actions
When first it was their blood you spilled on the ground.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Killers of The Dream
A question of perspective
As we stand witness to the
Dissolution of humanity
A piece at a time
A lie at a time
As the darkness re-emerges
As a progressive ideology
Still awash in the blood
Of histories abomination
Hypocrisy wrapped in righteous indignation
Racial Genocide portrayed as moral
A resurgence of evil
Cloaked in the unbridled vitriol
Of absurdity redux
As if murder can be justified
Brutality rationalized
Lies are lies
No moral high ground provided
In the context of victimized cries
Their purpose unveiled
Their motivation made clear
Their goal remains fear
To silence debate
To hinder freedom
To destroy humanity a piece at a time
Until all that remains is a tyrannical mindset
Heralding an end to the legacy
And the grand experiment called
Mankind.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
I Think.. I Dream
I seek solace
In the comfort hand
The warmth of the secret kiss
The hidden embrace
Shadowed feelings.. electronic deeds
A cybernetic system to fill my need
There and then not yet you want the real
You act as though together not words on a screen
Seperated by space… by times constant flow
Acting familiar
Know you I don’t
Your voice, your smile
Not even an image
Those you withheld
Alone.. in my thoughts only you dwelled
So what is Reality?
What is the truth?
Do you exist at all?
Or am I loving myself in abstract relief
Alone in a room with a silence companion
My own addled belief that you exist at all
A mental aberration concocted by need
Simply a reflection .. Im alone indeed
A person , idea, feeling
To lead
Me to you
Yet… is it you at all
Or just a reflection
Of Me.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
A Radical Idea… Freedom
I question their purpose
In challenging the moment
Their continence hate
The people of fate
Anti truth they purport
As they create their facade
Of the their own darkness
Projecting it, creating it
Ever evil manifested
An image recreated again.. and again
The shadow of life, antithesis of light
In monstrous presence, to intimidate
Their word kill apparent to end debate
They believe this tactic new
Actions to late to matter
Announcing true nature in oral hate
They come like Denizens of the dark
To steal the resolve of the strong
Kill the free heart in a deluge of the idiots peril. Logic lacking the rely on blood letting
To silence the bold spirit
To eliminate the resistant will
As the bulwark maintains the line
The past testified the persistent message
Our fathers words echo clear
From that dark fate survived
They call to us to remember
The legacy they left
Behind
And the price they paid
For our
Lives.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Innocence Lost
A spark of insight
The wonder revered
As so many chased it
Yet so few understood
The nature of their desire
Fated in silence
Years passed them alone
As they wandered searching for meaning
Lost in a facade built to misdirect
To confuse them
Illusions of grandeur
Hidden in lies of benefit
Being the boss, only to show they weren’t
Thinking they had value
Only to find they were the discarded dream
Used then left to fade away
As age slowly takes them
Leaving … the empty , disjointed, the lost
The Truth finally appears
That it all was a scam, a misdirection, a promise of lacking, wanting
They followed the false idol
Of the physical ..
Abused the moment in hopes of the dream
Yet years became unforgiving masters
Yoking them to the image
Wrought in self abuse
Dissolutioned by their experiences
As reality raped them again and again
Breaking hope , sundering their souls
A gift of despair, an inheritance of hate
Bequeathed for the weary hearts that
Traveled the bitter lane
Their youth extinguished as the Seconds
Dragged forward day passing to day
A moment at a time.. forced to live a present that a past future delegated
In the silences of each twilight
The glimmers of promise perish
As their legacy is revealed
The scope of the deception finally
Apparent
As the darkness engulfs them
Closing in on every side
The idea slowly fades
Leaving the nothing… in its place.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Lux… Redux
Slipstream shadows
Wraith the passing mist
Lost in the empty nothingness
Of the odd
Moments pass in the brutal silence
Of forgotten lonely places
Peace sundered by an instant of
Truth… it all can pass
Blink from existence
Flash of clarity we are all temporary
Moments to come
Moments to go
Shadows really
Here then gone
Nothing left but an empty space
Where something had been
An hour a day
Lost in the past
Existing in the now
Eclipsed in tomorrow
Mere ashes, remnants
Creatures of the luminescent
Denizens of the mist
Energy passing to everlasting
As our forms fade
Taken by the forward fate
We leave this time… this space
The dust of its place
And move
On
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Eras.. Nevermore
Lost in the mist, faded dreams
Of times long past
Another life, another me
Someone I’ve forgotten, barely
A memory
Like so many scatter leaves
A time lay in my brain
Dead now, just scattered illusions
Of another time
Places once alive, now gone
Shadows once people
Long since passed
Faded pictures… lost long ago
Almost forgotten these moments
These times…
Years, brutal remnants harsh in their
Execution
Relentlessly beating, the rhythm of the
Seconds
Until we are not once more, but
Dust…swirling … then
Gone
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
I Am The Image, I Am The Dream
Can you really see me.. at all?
Not the words on the screen
Or the image in your head
But me
The walls between us block the truth
Is the love truly there?
Leaves blow through an empty space
It’s the desolation of my expectations
As I have chased the wild mare
A revolution gone by
Memories cut like knives
Scoring her troubled mind
Competing with shadows
Expectations gone by
Am I really there at all to her
Or just an effigy to be used, sacrificed
To quill the frigid heart
To remind of a life, a love
There but somehow not
A mirage of someone she used to love
Do I stand as her dream of a man that she needs, but is gone?
To fill a hole she didn’t know existed at all
Or am I a hope for a future she thinks she wants?
The more I try to close the gap
To solidify the ties that bind
The more elusive she becomes
Sliding evermore out of my reach
Like grabbing clouds at Twilight
Chasing images in the thick fog
There yet , not elusive and unobtainable
Regardless of techniques or desire
Do I have a chance at all, really?
Am I chasing ghosts, as elusive as air
Everywhere yet nowhere at the same time
Am I real to her, actually?
Can she really see me… at all?
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
The Wicked Game
Sundered heart, the dreams yet dreamt
A future in the foggy twilight of days yet spent
A purpose undefined, with love not yet given
In moments of passion of a night’s unspent
Will it be her, or will she not be
I question the choices presented before me
Love peace or wealth yet gained
As I am left to dwell and contemplate
Youth, beauty, a passion unwrought
Loyalty, promise, and the prizes I’ve sought
A lifetime leads to this point.. this path
The way is shrouded, so many desires to sate
In the stillness of my own troubled mind
I wonder the irony of the fated design
After a lifetime of silence, suddenly granted a muse
Given a gift, a blessing to live life anew
Choices to make, pathways to choose
So much to gain, so much to lose
Am I wicked for wanting it all?
After so much emptiness, can I breach the wall
To my own heaven, eden unbound
To my personal salvation,
Released by the unforgiving fate
My soul had been bound.
Beauty of the spirit
Beauty of the soul
A Beauty yet experienced
A Beauty to behold
Moments in peace
In love in light
Choices unchosen
Wonders of forbidden nights
I stand in the quiet times
Contemplating times yet to come
Lives yet experienced
Love yet to be won
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
