Imagine

By Charles Sapp II

I look back at time’s youthful face and see this child full of inquisitive wonder
with their involvement in this world, while wearing it on his shoulders,
trying to cram its volume, density and mass within the cranial plates of his head.
Even though it could never fit, there was more than enough room in his heart.

Passion for answers consumed every waking frame,
when at a lull, boredom plagued idle moments and child’s play was just that.
He’d close his eyes and choose a color and run with it,
imagining the crystalline purity of aquatic blue water rippled with drops
from a tropical shower and the Sun playing peek-a-boo through the cumulus clouds
and casting a double rainbow with a game of hide and go seek of hidden treasure
where X – marks the spot.

With escapism at a cost; sessions of imaginative glory lasting for quite some time,
with gaps of slow motion speculation and third person observation.
Nature was his only friend and the environment was his playground.
He later learned to control the bullying wind and tame its tantrums to his benefit.
Blowing bubbles as wishes atop trees
and watching them drift to foreign realms of fantasy without breaking.
His unselfish wishes were mere meditations through the Earth’s respiratory system.

To look back at the child with no suit, no lab coat, no degree and no salary;
he remained content with no control except the nourishment to his soul.
His responsibility further outweighed mine to date which allows me to reflect
on all that we take for granted with peace of mind, peace at heart,
or world peace which begins with the child within.

Mystic Spells Abound

By Charles Sapp II

In the land of mystics,
proverbs written on the backs of 1st born sons,
readable only in the purity of unfiltered sunlight.
Knowledge is the key to self reliance and preservation.
A culture aimed at globular clusters and bizarre star systems,
heretic to the future.

Dimmed eyes, dreamy to an atmospheric love,
replicates the heaven’s masterpiece in the form of affection.
Gravitation pulls hearts as one,
resembling the melding of liquid metal
to further fortify their bond.

Beneath the umbrella of solidarity
are the quiet ruminations in which spells abound.
Women bear future phenomena
to resurrect the past and evoke the reincarnation of change.
With each day passing, marking the phase of the moon’s cycle,
souls ascend to the sky as cosmic jewels,
like fireflies in the night.

The ravished land rebounds plentiful
as homage is paid to the eclipsing of the Sun;
reverenced action to appease the dual forces.
The possession of power
extends into the cusp of humble beginnings,
like the tame fire within.

Flickers of smoldering embers lurk in the void,
where humanity must beware;
the stratagem of dark forces with armies of shadows
to engulf the inner light assimilated
as the unknown, the forgotten and the unspoken.

The future phenomena are at war with nature’s estranged children.
The alchemy of love and affection,
wizardry of potions that withstand the colloquial representation of a mystic’s era.

Sacrifice for a New Day

By Charles Sapp II

Legs alternating,
staggered steps in humanoid patterns
against the Sun burned Earth,
while arms swing like pendulum gears
adding momentum to movement.

Intensity not by heat,
but motive to seek refuge
and simmer in the shade,
with immersed feet in an aquatic oasis
reviving soles of despair.

The nomad with sunburned feet
treads with frostbitten toes; given a piece of self to the world,
a sacrifice
suspended by time’s mercy.
Alternative universe,
an exclamation of a parallel dimension
cascading sheets of ice,
frigid ruins of cavernous cavities
where frozen monuments melt from global disharmony.

The rain cries down over the body of the land from swollen clouds
and the call of the wind halts progress as a heeded warning
lead to the summit of glory.

Sauntering backwards, retracing generations of footprints
and reading the scribed riddles within the strata of abstract clouds;
the rain lifts off the land and returns to the cloud,
this later dissipates, carrying away the distress from a tired planet in peril
and the ignorance that persists.

The dawn of a new day
brings perspective and challenge,
influence is spread vast like the oceans,
deep with retrospect and desire to soothe the bruises and wounds inflicted on life.

Dreams of Reason and Unrest

By Charles Sapp II

He took the shortest path towards an unknown destination,
by cutting corners and making sharp turns,
almost always leading down a one way street to a dead-end.
Carelessly moving fast,
blundering through life’s road signs
and missing its beautiful scenic vistas.
Rushing to meet tomorrow in a panic state of mind;
a soul's unrest, driven by the next dollar made quickly.

Fueled by ego’s fumes;
let down hard with disappointment,
stranded in a lonely man’s world
with foreign faces lending their hearts.
His disbelief without reason,
against the rules that are opposite to his character;
he rejects opportunity and offers to love alone
and cherish earnings made by other’s expense.

Only after falling asleep into dream’s reality,
mirroring cause and effect;
specially formulated as a truth serum.
Harmonious order born from chaos,
where monetary possessions dissipate into the moments
and materialism dematerializes.

The Sky opens its mouth and says nothing.
The Sun turns away without looking.
The Moon phases to new and leaves him alone in the dark
in search for his inner light to guide him to purpose,
reason and the reignite the flame of his potent gift.

The world shall not forget as long as you remember.
The Sky shrinks into itself and turns inside-out
to reveal the dark side of space.
The Moon melts into the Sun
and the Sun becomes the eye of a child
that speaks his consciousness into existence.

Hope Within Humanity

I write this poem while remembering the victims of the Wenchuan earthquake. I have been deeply moved by the amount of emotion that has been pouring from the people worldwide, within tragedy there is still a glimmer of hope and the true essence of humanity surfaces. My thoughts and prayers remain for those still ravaged by the disaster.

By Charles Sapp II

Tattered clothes
and dust clinging to perspired skin,
a face with determination and purpose,
with a hint of grief.

Nature seemed to turn away
and display the effects of neglect.
The purpose almost seems arbitrary,
but the balance of normalcy is forever changed.

Material from the material world suddenly dematerializes
to a faint and soon irrelevant existence.
The hand of a fellow man and the taste of faith,
ensures compassion for the soul
and continuance of the power of love.

The witness of children wiping mother’s tears
to clear, watery blur of distorted sorrow.
Children are messengers for a hopeful future.
Taught to teach the primary ways,
inert or inherent as bare necessities outweigh the forgotten.

Laughter will soon fill the air and journals will be written
and surface to display the common characteristic of humanity
during its finest hours which transcends all cultures.

Elder's Path Through Time's Reflection

By Charles Sapp II

Mountains sculpted and carved by time.
As skin cracks with age and hair loses its color,
eyes become filled with stories,
told without words.

The hands have touched many
and smooth surfaces can no longer be distinguished.
Fragile branches sway to the youthful wind’s play,
revealing time’s passing, briefly;
memories swirl through the mind,
a recollection of childhood innocence
as wonderment fills the air.

Bare feet walk on hot Earth, slowly
like rechargeable batteries soaking leftover solar energy
to a spirit that has walked this path before.
No needs for words, as these lips have spoken enough.

All that needs to be said, can be heard through a smile of content
and basking in the rain of newfound excitement
as bones prove durable and mobility transports the energy
of a lifetime of love, sought for and collected riches.

An elder’s kiss, meaningful
and full with transference of truth, unhindered wisdom of purpose
withstanding the duress of time,
welcoming the progression through time’s reflection.

You Are My Poetry

Artwork courtesy of WAK

By Charles Sapp II

You are poetry in the material form;
my inspiration, my muse, my motivation
put into words.

Your poetry is the calm to my storm,
a written fantasy,
a voyage from the depths of my soul;
the foundation to my character,
the core to my living matter;
the common bond and necessity to my completeness;
like sentences to my hearts speech,
an untranslated language spoken through the art of love,
where creativity is born and manifested by the fondness of you
and all that you represent.

Your poetry is the song that fills my emptiness
and overflows like waterfalls of radiant beauty
eclipsing the ugly of an unforgiving world.
Beneath the umbrella of your presence,
I live as a free man, bound by none
virtuously exalted by principle.

Your poetry puts the skin to my flesh,
so that I may feel you.

Your poetry is the light
which my eyes have been deprived from.
Your gift is vision,
so I may see you, with eyes closed,
captive within my dreams.

You are the poetry that lives eternal
through transparent time.
Your poetry is timeless,
sacred to my existence.
Your presence speaks;
you are my poetry written aloud.

Clenched Fists

By Charles Sapp II

Balled hand and clenched fist
shot into the air, above head
a representation of pride.
Hope to be touched by an angel,
in desperate need of a transfer of energy or protected power,
while naked on a cliff’s edge – blindfolded.

These clenched fists can crush coal into diamonds
not from fear but with faith;
faith that positive will may pave the path to my righteousness.
Meticulously chosen,
dragging air through the gaps in teeth with concentration.

The wind swirls in a vortex surrounding my body,
from angel wings hovering over me.
A guardian of trust,
a watcher overlooking,
while asking without saying and referencing my devotions.
I answer with a second clenched fist punched through the atmosphere,
and suddenly opening to rain crystalline elements to the Earth
and giving back the riches that have brought me love, peace of mind and happiness;
with hopes to rain infectious joy to those of thirst.

Angelic metamorphosis,
transformation of wrongs
executed to become testaments of weathered flesh,
battered by self humiliation and tiresome guess.

A balled hand and clenched fists are symbols
of holding on to faith, love and all that have been true.
A personal quest from a series of epic prose
and quantified quandaries;
1 love,
1 voice
and 1 verse.

Destined Love

By Charles Sapp II

Her words spill from her lips
like enchanting smoke whispers
with ghostly enticement.
I want to inhale her verbiage and digest metaphors
while becoming full from her message
as they massage my inner lobes
with angelic harmonic vibrations and celestial tones
accentuating the linguistic fiery passion sung to my soul.
All becomes visible with eyes closed, imagining her touch.

Her touch sends shockwaves to my flesh
and disrupts my network of nerves,
leaving them on high alert with sensory overload.
Her fingers are gravitational wands
influencing my movement
like a marionette on strings dancing to her commands.
Her spell is a seductive sedative,
embraced with a calm touch,
penetrates my affection’s yearning heart,
that beats in unison to her heart’s rhythm.

I dare not peer into her gaze,
without succumbing to her hypnosis,
offering interludes into the future with visions of tranquility
and eternal love fueled with meaningful passion.
Like art, she molds my humanism into a masterpiece
with balanced contrast, brushed stroked to a canvas of lucid reality.

She is my dream come true.
She is the journal I write.
She is the poetry in my life.
She is my life,
because she is my soon to be wife.

The Wait

By Charles Sapp II

Waiting anxiously,
body immobilized,
frozen in still liquid;
while the mind runs rampant
through fields of desire and passion;
forever calculating results of the future.

Waiting, impatiently as time progresses without permission.
The trees represent generations,
overseer of our life force seething through our veins.
Forever timeless and immortal;
the quest to become moved
adequately renders the heart and soul to receptive conduits
of awareness and tranquil bodies to a sum of equal parts.

Waiting to reunite with love,
drifted to the speed of the wind, to return and settle
like the weathered leaf a float in time’s current;
thought to be forgotten,
but remembered
as certain characteristics never fade,
like the liquid light shadow
towards the end of the day, or the light that shines bright,
captive and shared as a gift to the world,
but to miserly to share its power and virtuosity.

Waiting to become stimulated,
with proof of eternal happiness
as soothsayers spoke of tales
all that’s good in life are worth the wait.

I’ve waited several lifetimes and season’s rebirth
and you became the azimuth to my horizon
and shinned new light and hope to my destiny.
From what I know now,
I’d wait another millennia for your return.

Masculinity

By Charles Sapp II

A man is a man
with a full spectrum of emotions,
equalized and balanced.
Emotions are the ingredients that make us human;
showcased, worn as a badge of honor,
proud to express his feelings
as a lesson to his son.
Fear is for survival and tears are for release,
strengthening the spirit by exposure.

A man is a man
when he takes ownership and responsibility
to all that equates to his life,
a protector
of the precious, helpless and the fragility of nature.

A man is a man
when ego is banished from the confines of the mind
and justice is found at the mercy of his actions.
A man that is versatile with his touch,
a creator of love and the nurturer of passion.

A man is a man
when he is a father to all who seek his inner truth
and his seeds flourish into living testaments
of his power and will
and propagate as potent masterpieces of his labor and creativity
as gifts to the world.

A man is a man
who lives shamelessly
and not easily swayed by the shifting of the winds;
grounded and deep rooted like the Sequoias—
equally respected.
A man that bleeds with dignity,
knelt on both knees
and kisses the Earth
that women walk, where children dance
and brothers bled.
A man is simple
and humble
with complex emotions.

Dimensions

By Charles Sapp II

Passageways to dimensions without doors,
wide open,
1st person angle view,
a tesseract with no traces.
Smeared lines in gray,
shades of possibilities;
the extraordinary;
the supernatural.

Woven fabrics of time
braided history, now, and the future.
Paths treaded softly,
frontiers await discovery, behind self.
Treasure of answers anticipated,
with inward motives reflecting outward
and kinetic recall,
pulverizes notions beyond belief and comprehension.

Only desires
dry and empty
with barren oasis’
mirages of supple wells
hydrating ambition.

Wishes are the commands sprouted into existence
with a bit of concentration and a pinch of diligence.
Heroes and heroines have been born of less,
summoned by the masses;
emerged from the tumultuous seas of despair.

Portals gaping with invitation,
entering eras with hope;
broken glass of limitations
and metaphors of fragile skulls and bones,
serving truth,
scribed on living tree’s flesh.

They poured their hearts out in black ink,
serendipity speaks with perched lips kissing
the minds of the future with baptized words,
scorching those that never heard the sound of love.

Erupting from dimensions unbeknownst,
far yet near,
stars shed their light in a stellar molt;
renewal to eternal sight,
entrance to vision unobscured.
A keyless realm
with open doors,
secure
from an insecure world.

Jubilation

By Charles Sapp II

Hands clasped in praise;
the day’s wealth and richness,
aromatic scent worth salivating.

Evening luminescence lingers
and remains glorious
as the golden pathway over the ocean stillness
leads to the Sun’s open mouth;
lured by the opulence of a sparkling tongue.

Clouds blotted over early morning skies
and a late noon,
where spring dew melts
as the first weak rays reflect the day’s color.
Transparent and mysterious
the chill is unthawed, activity becomes animate
and life becomes mobile without fear,
under the guidance of light.

Sign language of cryptic verse,
as poetry to the deaf sounds of nature.
Children sing to the wise,
with matured innocence
and the wise feed on the potent extract of youth’s jubilee.

A cyclic responsibility,
words unspoken,
action overflows and spills,
creating a crescendo;
rippling through hungry generations
aspiring to be fed by the future.

Cosmic Soup

By Charles Sapp II

A collection of cells,
suspended matter
molded by creation.

Emergent immigrant from water,
the son of Sun,
mothered by the Moon,
siblings as planets;
loved by the Earth,
Universe is home.

Chemistry lives
and blood is symbolic to life,
knowledge is experience
and poetry is the language.

Passion burns with intensity from the heart.
Sight is found while dreaming.
A climber of trees
touching the clouds
to taste the ripe rain.
With toes rooted and anchored to the ground,
facing the wind with mouth wide
inhaling its strength,
as the winds are the deliverer and carrier of voice.

At play,
stories are told by decorating the night sky
and rearranging the stars.
Grabbing comets by the tail
and throwing towards the Sun;
a celestial form of playing catch.
Passing time by twirling galaxies with fingers
in the cosmic soup of existence.