“Long Ago I Remember”
cji
5/20/17
(Prologue:
Over the
past forty two years
my quill
has remembered tears
relating
millions living their fears
Holocaust
– hatred by the few
reminded
today of the hatred
built
upon beguiled lies baited
distorting
the world’s small view
disbelieving
the truth in leers
hearing
mobs hooting cheers
even now
as history jeers!)
(1)
“Lying
Media”
cji
5/20/17
Controlled
by corruptions
Hitler
and his minions
owning
the media fully
much as
the liberals today
spreading
lies upon lies
getting
others to believe
(for
often told lies=truth)
easier to
believe than truth
especially
when all the same
without
credibility leaking
as one
urinated on tracks
killing
the freedom/liberty
which
allows fools to do
the lying
media deranged
having
taken the pelf
now at
the buyers will
he* and
his minions
controlling
the media!
(*all
know who goes here)
(2)
“History
Repeats Always”
cji
5/20/17
When only
lies are taught
students
learn nothing true
believing
to pass their tests
getting a
degree as whimsy
teaching
to hate responsibility
government
will take care all
stealing
from someone hated
self-determined
at the time
once the
Jews-now Christians
once the
Moors-now innocents
once
Japanese-now whoever
dividing
and conquering
middle
class and entitled
call it
racism or confusion
history
repeats always
different
names or places
results
still the same
when all
are silent
the noisy
get the stage!
(3)
“Read
What’s Below”
cji
5/20/17
Harken to
the past future
believing
what you desire
mattering
not if but a lie
for each
power to discern
and all
will be accountable
all with
be fully responsible
none to
escape their choice
read
what’s below or others
history
screams to be heard
lost in
the chaotic noises
dumbing
so many today!
(Epilogue:
There are
no photos here
visual
images in the mind
tears
once flowed the window
able to
be seen if able
long ago I remember
for I
wrote these each
prompted
and recording
there are
no escapes
only to
awaken to truth
or to
continue to deny
wherein
lies the media!)
Treasure nothing more
"Hearing the Voices - Speaking to the
Future"
cji
12/17/96
Prelude . . .
Winter's stiff winds
measure not in knots
or of the life's lost
but the winter wind
is the bearer
of voices
from the past
should we seek
to walk in silence
to walk alone
on the edge
of a winter storm
shaken by only
the winter's wind . . .
By C.J. Ingerson
12/17/96
"Whispered Silences"
There just now
as a zephyr
passing but slight
came the whisper
came the thought
came the remembering
of what I was
and of what I might
have become.
Once like you
running and laughing
seeing only the light
smelling only mama's cooking
feeling papa's hugs
sharing smiles with others
my life was full
and I could not guess
how empty it soon
would be.
I loved music
and singing new songs
just waiting to be sung
and I loved Spring
and the new flowers
soon to bloom
and I loved the rain
the wind blowing cold
the waves of the sea
the reverie
of remembering.
Yet gone
taken forever away
darkness covering my smile
tears dried on my cheeks
laughter no longer heard
feelings abused, hurt
smells of dying, decay
hugs of lust, wanton
not wanting to remember
but only to forget
this life I'd become
in the depravity
of another's goals
as whispered silences
wanting to remain unheard.
(How can I speak to you . . .
who have everything
yet know not of history
of yesterday
whose music speaks
only of now, today
wanting more,
without giving?
How can I relate
of dead passion
of sick minds
of decayed souls
of depravity
instead of men
leeches of the land
of the earth
of the body
of the value of life?
How could you understand
a world where obedience
was a punishment
where belief was shame
where birth was horror
where love was lust
where understanding
was non-comprehend?
You're the future
you're the hope
you're the generation
of my generation's, generation
for what, to remember me
to remember us
to hold the candle
and say you can understand
you can feel
what we've felt?)
When these thoughts
come to me now
I smile as I gently
feel my father’s rebuff
of me his child
while yet asleep
not wanting
from this dream
to awake . . .
"Hearing the Voices"
Walking near
if you listen
speaks the voices
from the past
over there, Ravensbruck
mothers, sisters, wives
taken in their prime
in rape, and experiment
and there, Auschwitz
fathers, brothers, husbands
as slaves worked beyond death
beyond endurance
beyond a name
remembered only as a number
and there, Birkenau/Mauthausen
soldiers, flyers, patriots
suffering like the rest
unknown prisoners of war
and there, Treblinka
and there, Chelmno
and there, Buchenwald
how many voices
can you hear
and still deny
and still not listen
for heroes are not always seen
and not always what we imagine
but just what they are
if we will only feel
what is being said
for us to hear
if we will but listen
to the voices
from over there. . .
(Yes . . .
I've come again
have you missed me?
I thought so -
To the future
they're asking now
but why
when I've spoken
to the present
they heard not
why should the future
want to listen now?
Reluctantly would you
permit me in again
to use you
to convey thoughts
most difficult to express
for how would I address
my words to another age
beyond understanding
of simple things
gone array?
So hold me
once again
and I will
be gentle
to convey
of what it was
we lived
that history
has so often called
the Holocaust. . .)
"Shadow's Dancing"
Imagine a mind
fertile with life
and dreams untold
Imagine a dance
with music full
of vibrant beats
Imagine a dress
of lace and frills
lovely to touch
Imagine a woman
excited, happy
in wonder and awe
Imagine a man
in a tux
with a flower box
Imagine, imagine
imagi . . .
the silence of screams
the beating of your heart
the hate your smile evokes
from images of
of shadow's dancing
only in your mind . . .
Mother said . . .
it's writing
to someone you wish
to know someday
but for now
they know you not
and will only
learn from what
you have to say.
So each night
when the guards
are gone
and others sleep
in my mind
I write to you
so you will know
of what I'm like
and what it is
to not live
but only survive
to another night
to once again
write to you
in the presence
of my mind . . .
"Day One"
I was playing
when the whistles blew
and torn from my friends
by my father
to run to hide
but too late
to know the fear
held in my father's eyes
we were loaded in trucks
jammed in till I could
hardly breathe,
in a field
unloaded and told to strip
men women boys girls
my father torn away
from mothers arms
then a soldier
threw my mother
on the ground
while another
shot my father
and held me back
then another soldier
fell on mother
and then another
and all around
the same was happening
to others
the men shot
in a big ditch
the women on the ground
the boys and girls
shuttled to the side
and then nude
back in the trucks
and then in trains
and then I slept . . .
"Day Two"
Still on the train
I found my mother’s
tears flowed my cheeks
as I could not console
as I did not know
as I was lost
and cold
and hungry
and my mother
with just this vacant look
knew me not
and other children cried
till crying stopped
and holding my mother
I road on the train
and again I slept . . .
"Day Three"
It was dark outside
and we were yelled at
to go here or there
and clutching mother
we went as they shoved
still with no clothes
still with no food
we were put inside a building
and told to sleep . . .
"Day Four"
Again we were yelled at
again we had to move
still we had no clothes
still we had no food
we were told
we were going
to take a shower
then we would be clothed
and fed . . .
"Day Five"
(There were no more
thoughts or writings) . . .
"Listening"
Walk about with me
just now hold my hand
let me help you see
listen to the plan
Treasure nothing more
Prelude . . .
Winter's stiff winds
measure not in knots
or of the life's lost
but the winter wind
is the bearer
of voices
from the past
should we seek
to walk in silence
to walk alone
on the edge
of a winter storm
shaken by only
the winter's wind . . .
By C.J. Ingerson
12/17/96
"Whispered Silences"
There just now
as a zephyr
passing but slight
came the whisper
came the thought
came the remembering
of what I was
and of what I might
have become.
Once like you
running and laughing
seeing only the light
smelling only mama's cooking
feeling papa's hugs
sharing smiles with others
my life was full
and I could not guess
how empty it soon
would be.
I loved music
and singing new songs
just waiting to be sung
and I loved Spring
and the new flowers
soon to bloom
and I loved the rain
the wind blowing cold
the waves of the sea
the reverie
of remembering.
Yet gone
taken forever away
darkness covering my smile
tears dried on my cheeks
laughter no longer heard
feelings abused, hurt
smells of dying, decay
hugs of lust, wanton
not wanting to remember
but only to forget
this life I'd become
in the depravity
of another's goals
as whispered silences
wanting to remain unheard.
(How can I speak to you . . .
who have everything
yet know not of history
of yesterday
whose music speaks
only of now, today
wanting more,
without giving?
How can I relate
of dead passion
of sick minds
of decayed souls
of depravity
instead of men
leeches of the land
of the earth
of the body
of the value of life?
How could you understand
a world where obedience
was a punishment
where belief was shame
where birth was horror
where love was lust
where understanding
was non-comprehend?
You're the future
you're the hope
you're the generation
of my generation's, generation
for what, to remember me
to remember us
to hold the candle
and say you can understand
you can feel
what we've felt?)
When these thoughts
come to me now
I smile as I gently
feel my father’s rebuff
of me his child
while yet asleep
not wanting
from this dream
to awake . . .
"Hearing the Voices"
Walking near
if you listen
speaks the voices
from the past
over there, Ravensbruck
mothers, sisters, wives
taken in their prime
in rape, and experiment
and there, Auschwitz
fathers, brothers, husbands
as slaves worked beyond death
beyond endurance
beyond a name
remembered only as a number
and there, Birkenau/Mauthausen
soldiers, flyers, patriots
suffering like the rest
unknown prisoners of war
and there, Treblinka
and there, Chelmno
and there, Buchenwald
how many voices
can you hear
and still deny
and still not listen
for heroes are not always seen
and not always what we imagine
but just what they are
if we will only feel
what is being said
for us to hear
if we will but listen
to the voices
from over there. . .
(Yes . . .
I've come again
have you missed me?
I thought so -
To the future
they're asking now
but why
when I've spoken
to the present
they heard not
why should the future
want to listen now?
Reluctantly would you
permit me in again
to use you
to convey thoughts
most difficult to express
for how would I address
my words to another age
beyond understanding
of simple things
gone array?
So hold me
once again
and I will
be gentle
to convey
of what it was
we lived
that history
has so often called
the Holocaust. . .)
"Shadow's Dancing"
Imagine a mind
fertile with life
and dreams untold
Imagine a dance
with music full
of vibrant beats
Imagine a dress
of lace and frills
lovely to touch
Imagine a woman
excited, happy
in wonder and awe
Imagine a man
in a tux
with a flower box
Imagine, imagine
imagi . . .
the silence of screams
the beating of your heart
the hate your smile evokes
from images of
of shadow's dancing
only in your mind . . .
Mother said . . .
it's writing
to someone you wish
to know someday
but for now
they know you not
and will only
learn from what
you have to say.
So each night
when the guards
are gone
and others sleep
in my mind
I write to you
so you will know
of what I'm like
and what it is
to not live
but only survive
to another night
to once again
write to you
in the presence
of my mind . . .
"Day One"
I was playing
when the whistles blew
and torn from my friends
by my father
to run to hide
but too late
to know the fear
held in my father's eyes
we were loaded in trucks
jammed in till I could
hardly breathe,
in a field
unloaded and told to strip
men women boys girls
my father torn away
from mothers arms
then a soldier
threw my mother
on the ground
while another
shot my father
and held me back
then another soldier
fell on mother
and then another
and all around
the same was happening
to others
the men shot
in a big ditch
the women on the ground
the boys and girls
shuttled to the side
and then nude
back in the trucks
and then in trains
and then I slept . . .
"Day Two"
Still on the train
I found my mother’s
tears flowed my cheeks
as I could not console
as I did not know
as I was lost
and cold
and hungry
and my mother
with just this vacant look
knew me not
and other children cried
till crying stopped
and holding my mother
I road on the train
and again I slept . . .
"Day Three"
It was dark outside
and we were yelled at
to go here or there
and clutching mother
we went as they shoved
still with no clothes
still with no food
we were put inside a building
and told to sleep . . .
"Day Four"
Again we were yelled at
again we had to move
still we had no clothes
still we had no food
we were told
we were going
to take a shower
then we would be clothed
and fed . . .
"Day Five"
(There were no more
thoughts or writings) . . .
"Listening"
Walk about with me
just now hold my hand
let me help you see
listen to the plan
Treasure nothing more
Copyright
© 2017 – cji
'Chuck' Charles J. Ingerson, CPCM, Fellow (NCMA)
“Lest we forget the
resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ – completing the Atonement
so that ‘death’ could be removed from those who inhabited this earth – each and
every one – none excluded – with the exception of those who through
disobedience to the Commandments have found to excluded themselves from eternal
life in the Celestial Kingdom (spoken of by Paul – and throughout the
Scriptures of our returning to dwell with the Father and the Son. in his name even Jesus the Christ amen.” cji
4/6/2017
“To
create one has to have imagination - and we've a society which not only can't
think for themselves but lack in knowing how to communicate with one another –
unlike previous generations where one had to do both!” cji 11/25/16
“Altruistic Logic is where one understands whatever reason one
does something for – when questioned will always be for an Altruistic logic or
reason. They’ll say whatever covers their real reason so that others will
believe them. Sadly in most cases (not all) these reasons are selfish and not
altruistic.” cji 12/2/15
“Just like faith once we understand a truth – it moves from
faith to knowledge/light – the same as wisdom when we learn something we store
it forever for recall when needed and then add precept upon precept. Thus we
grow exponentially either towards Zion or we fade exponentially to Babylon.” –
cji 7/18/15
Photo Sites:
“… tis true – we’ve but a season – to grow – nourish – plant –
protect – water – correct – and most importantly to love as the Savior loved …”
cji 1/7/15
(Do We Want to Know?)
http://www.jesuschrist.lds.org/SonOfGod/eng/
http://dailypoems1.blogspot.com/ (to access poems)
http://cjames127.blogspot.com/ (to access essays)
http://dailypoems1.blogspot.com/ (to access poems)
http://cjames127.blogspot.com/ (to access essays)
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