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Poems By Poet Erhard Hans Josef Lang  2/8/2012 2:31:56 AM
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Erhard Hans Josef Lang   Best Poems From
  ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG (January 8,1957)
 
 
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  45.     

Stunning Stunt Smash-Hit Lesson

He had been known as a daredevil ever since.
That one day he had done it a few times,
his newest stunt meant to be outbeating himself.
Up and up again he went there onto his trapeze,
That he had set hanging at such a height
So he could still make it so-and-so
To dropp himself down in a fall, and -
This was his challenge really! -
By way of his arts learning how
To do in the fast drop
The proper turns of his supple body
For it to come landing in a graceful pose
Unhurt on touching down to the ground -
An artists feat he was set to master -

He had done it that day a few times -
Some four of his closest friends were
Watching on from down in the arena.
He succeeded twice.
Once he had already hurt himself
In one attempt in between.

With the fourth attempt
He got hurt so bad
Falling on his head so inadvertently
That they had to carry him away -
His life fifty-fifty.

None of his spectators
Eager to see him be successful
Had seen him fall at that fourth attempt.
He must have then dropped himself
Immediately after reaching onto the trapeze
Yet before anyone's eyes could have followed him up there.

His last landing came to be a fatal failure
Because, at the instance of his jumping,
He was not yet being secured
By the soft net of his onlookers' positive looks
To be spun Invisibly in the arena's
Overall Mind atmosphere
Composed of five well-wishing heads
Four of which the jumper unluckily had foregone.

He had jumped too early -
Afraid of his own fear.
He wanted to outbeat his fear
By jumping before fear could have reached his heart.
But he was not aware of the carrying
Importance of a supportive mind landscape.

A lesson that would have made him
Not only survive the jump from the daring height
But improve his skill of landing deftly.

The sad thing with all of this:
Even the poor daredevil's fatal death did not
Impart the wit of the tragedy's lesson
To his four friends.
As none of them, either, grasped
The good effects of vibrations from a friendly
Positively complex mind surrounding.

Our ill-fated daredevil was no dreamer,
But I dreamt too late of his tale.
The dreamer's wish now were that another
Pioneering boy briskly mindless of the importance
Of beneficial eyes and clapping hands
Would wake up to a healthy
Common sense of success.

And I'd wish that this story would
Show to all the others too -
No cowards either -
What stunning lesson
This stunning stunt smash-hit lesson holds
About our wondrous Mind!
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  46.     

Sunday Mass For The Vain

'I should have planned
Better with you,
But since, by this Sunday,
Already you've come
Thanking,
I feel
I should'nt push through,
So as
Not, for your vanity,
To entice discontentment
In you, '
someone pondered about another
In the Lord
At Sunday Mass,
And so, Sunday Mass didn't usher in the changes
Amass.
Sometimes, could a dive in the divine jive
Be timed
Out of time
And awry
With our daily hypersonic life
Out on the open plains?
Or
Sometimes, might it be useless to be, on Sundays only,
Attending mass
At a time
When one ought to be
Seeking the inner temple
Day in, day out,
Lost on an
Ill-guided stroll in time
In a dark cavern
Of a rude world,
Mondays, Tuesdays,
Wednesdays, Thursdays,
Fridays, Saturdays, too,
To be praying,
For the one with powers
To take over
The rudder
Ruder, now,
But in the end
Smoothing out all things? !
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  47.     

Tetra Heads Of A Three-Dimensional World Glowing Quadro

What makes the seer see more than all the other seeing ones is
What, by his composure and far-sightedness,
Renders those other seers versus him merely one-eyed, if not to say blind,
- More like wonderfully awed by this grand surprise
Touch-down on the surface of miraculous Earth than
Focusing in on an overwhelming underlying
Beauty of the magic carpet of
Cosmic texture, into which every form of life and thing is secretly woven into,
And from where one could actively start participating in
Enhancing this greatest framed picture of creation in cosmos,
When envisioned,
Without falling out of line with the basic theme song at hand.

The most stalwart organs' play, so to speak, gets
Wasted thin, when short of their players'
Acumen and aspiration for best ends and
Perfection.

Eyes ought to open up to a secret red thread seen running through
The patterns of beauty in the world
For the ones looking out from them to be
Blooming into singular lotus-like flowers of
Vision, who are to
Grace the Earth's lake of life with pure waters ever
Gushing in directly from the spring of love beats of a
HEART that is all too eager to
Strive and break through and
SEE for itself, HEAR for itself... -
The blind root core organ, as it were, reaching out for its embrace of the world,
By every fibre of the body.

The tender plant of intuition needs to be tended to
With loving care and cherished.

Great oraclers first thing
Whenever they hold an appearance on their summit
Light up their torches with inner flames rising heavenward.

But the vessel that holds the
Dissective inspective fire -
The fire that is You and I - must be
Filled up, filled up from within as from without,
Filled with the fermentation of a
Salubrious compost,
gained out of the dross of
One's hazardous venture into
The life of nature.

Life is too wonderful not to try and make the best of it.

Out of divine visions creation is born.
Humans are heads of creation.
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  48.     

The Bowing Millennium Miracle

Three young kids from hillside Madagascar, a boy
and his smart elder sister while
showing the ways of the world to their big-headed
infant sibling
took to a windy plateau of slashed high plains
for some breezy repose
from the wanderings in the heat of day.

There in that pocket of valley,
near the place of the Mada kids' reposing
the pilot of an aeromobile
flitting through skies from
continents way over yonder,
suddenly suffering a fit of
mechanical heart trouble,
deemed it proper to
venture his one last possible recourse
out of his high-daring carrier's
impending exitus terminal,
a safely ended emergency landing.

'Hey Rija, look, what is
this? ! ' cried Noro, the boy,
who first noticed their
alien surprise visitation.
'Here comes a giant bird, oh
look how huge it is!
But doesn't it look dull-eyed? ?
It seems to settle here,
where there's no waters nor woods.
What for? ? ? '
'Oh look! ', exclaimed
Rija, 'it's opening its entrails.'
'Oh yes, it seems terribly over-fed
and feels like disposing of
its waste out here.'
'It has preyed and fed on living beings, ones
just like you and me,
see this!
And they are still alive and
yet moving. The bird must
be coming from the
Southern polar land of
penguins with its cold
sunless caves.'
'Yes, their faces are all lime-gray,
just like of those stone-washed
strange white cave-lizards
that never see the day of light,
down there at the far end on our
neighbour island Nosy Bee.'

'Now this monster of a bird
seems to have recovered,
look, Rija! '
'It instantly healed its open
skin wound up after gushing out
its litter, but look, there it
seems set aflame, all red
all of a sudden.'
The plane exploded.
- - - - - -
'Our folks in the village
won't believe us, if we tell
them what we've seen! ! '
'The real big giants seem to
also catch gigantic
sick fevers. Have you ever
heard of any of us
going through such a terrible
attack of bad fever,
that, before giving up his spirit,
even his very body were
burnt away wholly
by the inner flames,
like this giant's? '
'But now, just look at these
objects of cave-dweller
faces, ridded out the dying
giant before, and their strange
thick hairy leaves
all wrapped around them.'
'Oh yes, they are coming
towards us, all with their
feet shod in kind of camel-hoofs.'
'And they're all flapping
some kind of shiny toy
gadgets in the sun. What is
THIS? '
'It looks like mirrors with
boxes attached that they're flipping.
What for are the boxes on the mirrors?
Maybe they can trap the mirrored
image inside the box.
Just remember the magic box
of old Shaman
Andranantana,
he can do many more things
than just keeping your image
in his box.'
'But why would THESE here, aliens,
cavern folks from far away,
be doing this, flapping magic
mirrors here on our fathers' lands? '
'We're lucky that we called
early this morning again
our loving spirits and elves.
They will stand by our side.
These here might want to
disown our lands or
own our souls -
but don't be afraid, Rija,
our spirits and elves will
never forsake us.
Their very lives is the joys
in life with us as tending to
them, while they, in return,
are playing with us at will,
by their powers that they
will share with loyal servants
like you and me
in times of need.'
'Yes, heart of brother, thus
nothing to be afraid of!
Nothing could shake our
nature! !
We stand on grounds as
solid as can only be, with us the
happiest of hilltribe peoples
in the world.'

And the three young kids
from hillside Madagascar,
by that time, already were
hugging some of the
stranded white cave men,
before any of their miracle
boxes could have mirrored
off even one eye of their soul.
And all was alright with them
under the setting tropical sun.

The rest, what happened
from then on,
was all human,
as gigantical as
it was not for the birds.
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Erhard Hans Josef Lang