If you are the only one
in existence,
then there is only one perspective;
that is your perspective,
and your perspective is all of the
perspectives.

If there are billions of humans
in existence,
and countless other life forms and souls,
then there are that many more
unique and priceless and irreplaceable
perspectives;

how can anyone be limited to
and satisfied by
just one?

How do I know that our creator was not
satisfied with one either?
I do not know anything for sure,
but I will always try to see things
from more than my own two eyes.

I must see it all from my heart
and from my soul,
from what many call the third eye –
which is more like a unified perspective,
and from your perspective too.

Written in 2017.
Bethany G. Blicq
Ormond
Ormond
Dec 30, 2016

( Song )

Every culture of the world, they speak of,
Tell the tale of a great flood,
I feel the weather is changing, pouring hot
And getting ready to spill.
    I don't know what it was like before,
    'think now is like before the flood.

And so I welcome the rain from the sky,
It is only the tears of the earth,
As a young woman who cries,
Showing beauty along with the hurt,
In future days woes of our lives,
Will be cleansed by the tears of the earth.


I read the story of Noah and his ark,
'say that he was a righteous man,
I look for truth but I can't see clear it's dark,
And all the animals are scarce.
    I feel the end of an age is come,
    Inequity is the day, O Lord!

And so I welcome the rain from the sky,
It is only the tears of the earth,
As a young woman who cries,
Showing beauty along with the hurt,
In future days woes of our lives,
Will be cleansed by the tears of the earth.

Tamal Kundu
Tamal Kundu
Dec 22, 2016

I walk among stars,
my vibrant soul resonates
their brilliant symphony.

It tells the story
of us, each reaching out for
the divine in the other.

Form: Sedoka
DEW
DEW
Nov 18, 2016

Golden coin gleaming in hand.
All his hopes took refuge in that vestige of conjured worth.
The man with no name would buy his name this day...

The empire's burgeoning halls pressed in around him as he strode.
They would devour him in this moment if they had not done so already.
Yet, why the empire? There are more docile things to tame.
Everything is the same for the man with no name.

"People would apologize for stepping on me, but they knew not what to call me, so they went somnolently on their way."
I try to imagine these are the things he'd say,
instead these are the words of those I know,
those that I can hear, see, smell, touch... taste.
The man with no name's words are a waste.
He leaves no footprints wherever he may go.

The steps to the Hand of the Empire are steep.
Some will climb it, some will weep.
Yet, the man with no name will not turn back this day;
he takes a moment to fill and a moment to pray.

His memories are so vibrant, so full of clarity,
like crystals in the light, banishing insanity;
his tales will evoke the highest majesty,
entrance the gluttonous, deprave with vanity,
they'll bite the snake and poison its legacy,
they'll quietly rake the fields of the mind,
yet each soul is weary, cold and blind,
when he is gone, they pay no mind.

His steps are strong, hard, fast
throughout the night, will he last?
This is no simple, boring task,
the steps to the Hand do more than ask.
They take from you and more than due,
they make you fight,
they run through you.
When the night is cold and breezy,
you'll find the steps are dark and creepy...

Of course, the man with no name bears on.
What has he to fear, you can't hunt what you don't want,
for the hunt is a thrill, and trash is pleasureless.
The steps are perilous,
they hunger for blood,
his steps are thunderous,
nailing thud after thud.

Dawn peeks over the distant horizon,
and what a sight to see: the man is still rising.
In tandem the sky and he play their parts,
so does the Empire, putting bodies in carts,
for the night brings the dead, so many have tried,
to climb up the steps and in doing so, died.

The man with no name treads a feat all his own,
but see? A trembling hand. The ache of bone.
For the man with no name is tiring, tiring,
even in the face of his glory aspiring.

He would tend to the sick and defend the weak,
danger and challenge and evil he'd seek,
to vanquish the rotten
and save the damsel,
but he's always forgotten,
that he couldn't handle.

So this lead him to this fateful day,
to this fateful place.

Just look at the sweat cascading his face.
Look at his knees, how they groan and slow pace,
his legs seem to jostle and wobble out of place.
Where is his strong stride? It almost seems funny.
Many would do this sort of thing for money.
Yet, he does this for his own pride,
and that grim determination, from his face,
seems to slide.

He collapses and the jut of a step knocks his face,
for the steps are at his throat,
trying to crush his ebbing life.

I've known better men
to have fared far worse,
but this man looks on his life,
not as gift,
as curse.

Who is more deserving?
More than he?
Cowards! Be gone!
Pretenders, flee!

What's this?
He props himself up with ease,
the fire in his eyes would startle a lion.
The steps tremble with fury,
they quiver with disgust,
they lust for his end,
he must die, he must!

"No."
He speaks!
"Not today."
The gall!
Don't tempt these steps,
the Empire's nigh trekable wall!
"What I want more than anything,
is to be myself,
whoever I am,
so let me pass, you glorified shelf!"

How strange it would be, to be there that day,
for the steps let him pass, without delay.

He stood in the face of the Hand of the Empire.
Glistening in his palm, the token to buy his face:
his full life's earnings, polished, just in case.

He sighed, "All I've ever wanted is to be respected."
At the cusp of his one goal, the man defected.

One day, he told me this tale.
This he said, into my conscience: burned.
"If you fight death for a name,
you'll lose all you've earned."

It's a rare thing these days for me to feel puckered out after writing a poem, but this one had me panting... metaphorically... maybe a "little" bit literally, LOL.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!
Let me know if/how much, you liked it :)

DEW
Atul Kaushal
Atul Kaushal
Nov 4, 2016

My heart has a crush on a heart of infidelity,
Yes, she is treacherous, a traitor she is, that sexy.
My heart had a crush on the heart of a sweety,
Yes, she was pure and high was her divinity.
My heart has a crush on the sweetest of them all,
Yes, she is simply the sweetest of them all.
My heart had a crush on a simple heart,
Yes, she was simple when I fell in love with her.
My heart has a crush on a heart of a young gal,
Yes, she is youthful, and obviously she is fickle.

Immature people are fickle hearted.
Others are mature & dedicated.
The immature call us wrong.
HP Poem #1236
©Atul Kaushal
#heart   #crush   #she   #sexy   #divinity   #traitor   #infidel   #treacherous  
Anna Jones
Anna Jones
Oct 25, 2016

In the shadows
We dance
Building a bridge
Between friendship and love

Fleeting
Bricks fall
Dreams are broken and burnt
Then remade
Every single day

I sit still
Staring at the blank space
Where you once lay

Planning for the journey
Or simply walking through
Sit still
Breathe in
Aware of what to do

Thoughts pass like thunder
On their way out
As the stars
Cut through the sky

Scribing now
Drawing down clouds
To scrawl our dreams
Upon its steps
We stand

Holding onto the past
We let it drop
First a finger
and then a hand

Filled with deep regret
Transforming how
into why

We realise that
Dreams are broken and burnt
And remade
Every single day

Yet, a part still missing
I sit
Staring at the blank space
In the sky
The part where
lovers meet
for the first time;
Where you became I.

A thought about the meaning of true love and the illusion of how it fades away in the physical world.
JR Rhine
JR Rhine
Oct 25, 2016

Theses on species
and their feces,

people pissing and shitting,
Bukowski sneers and spits.

A cycle traversing through time
unbroken and unchallenged,

meaningless,

thoughtful yet dubious
of their divinity,

if any at all.

#time   #people   #afterlife   #eternity   #divinity   #present   #culture   #cycle   #poop   #species  
Daisy Vallely
Daisy Vallely
Oct 18, 2016

I’ll meet you in a distant time, beholder of my dreams.
You’ve introduced that everything is never as it seems.
Eyes that burn with fear and woe may fabricate reality,
But who and what one will believe becomes the truth eventually.
When my dreams began to die, I saw a figure eight.
Beyond, I saw a shadowed mass, on strings attached our fate.
Humbled by the overwhelming black of father Death,
I prayed for all the secrets of our world, and held my breath.
When Death decided it was time to drag me from my youth,
Divinity revealed that one’s self will hold all truth.



© 2016 D.M.V

#truth   #eyes   #death   #father   #dreams   #black   #divinity   #youth  

I.
Going down the mountain
  in a watery fountain
of my youth,
falling over
creation's cliff.
~
I swim to shore
alone
to Earth's barren floor.
~
Clinging to rocks,
pieces of pebbles
crumbling under
my soul feet.

II.
Heart on drive,
I'm so alive
a bit disturbed,
but alive!
~
For I know
God guides me
over the cliff
to my heart's floor
where I will
deliver my angst
to him to pull
the covers softly
over my heart.

III.
You're  the peace
in my ocean deep,
a heart so full
of pain and sorrow.
you who lives
today for tomorrow.
~
What's the problem?
Communication breakdown?
Spirit confound?

IV.
Running adrift
up the cliff,
I feel my soul lift.
~
My spirit
bereft of the pain
I left in the grain
on the sandy shore
of my present frame
of time,
leaving dust
on those who pass
or have fallen behind.

V.
Alas, I am
one with God,
nature,
you,
all of life
in one present view,
a universal connection,
old but new,
Life's gift,
opened by nature
upon God's Cliffs
of Dover,
reminding me
it's not over.

K.R.Dalton
10-11-16 (C)

Most of this is a free write from listening to a Tool song from one of the free write sessions at one of the first creative writing club meetings I sponsor at my school.
I can't remember the song right now. As I typed it, a few revisions emerged, and I ended up with another poem on one of my favorite topics.
Thanks for reading! K:)
#life   #god   #nature   #spirit   #divinity   #present   #connection  
Ram B
Ram B
Aug 25, 2016

You are a Star.
It is natural.
The Being.
When you see yourself
Then you start from within
The core, the being
ever shining
You used to see the Being
You used to feel the Being
You do things as you know the Being
You are bright even then

Now you are the Being
A Star, ever shining
Brightness piercing
Incredibly unique
Mysteriously unmatched
That even in the Light of other Beings
You are clearly seen
I Am clearly seen.

#god   #star   #light   #being   #spirit   #divinity   #within   #natural   #divine   #innate  
 
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