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Kenshō Aug 2014
The world seems rushing,
I alone seem still.

The world seems a bank of memory,
I alone cannot think.

The world seems after something,
I alone cannot move.

The world seems to say something,
I alone cannot speak.

Who would hear?
The echoes of my soul.

Who would journey with me?
I've dream't a million dreams.

Who and what would fill my mind?
Clouds cross these skies!

I want to sit by the river,
My Goddess, Grandest of Fathers.
hi.
Kenshō Aug 2014
It-
Fluid flowing, tapestry of space
Undulating, undulating.
Let me undress you
and see your true self.
The stars, life, space-
what in God's name is it?
hi
Kenshō Aug 2014
Content to sit.
My mind sovereignly drifts.
To the possibility
that
competing you lose;
Like a person
who's shoes
Get torn up from
Trying to buy
new ones
.

I'm not too sure about this yearning and striving.
I'm convinced it lacks, a final destination,
These painful infinite tracks.

Look, I am no one.
And, I am sure I haven't attained it.
But, no; go on, go on.
What if you trained it?
I'm sure you could 'grasp' it.
I'm sure you will 'see',

Around that bend is nothing,
Except the mind of thee.

But when it comes to that
and This passes away,
Hearing what you've heard:
Will you go or stay?


This isn't a triviality,
It's very important, see.
That you grasp the idea
That  what it is you grasp at

-Is like smoke on the water.
hi
Kenshō Aug 2014
I am the darkness, wings of the clipped;
Hovering light honoring all, I've been skipped.
This Mara's Illusion has tipped and tempted me.
Cut shins and broken knees, freedom, I plead!
Empty forests for me to scream, let me be freed.
Retracted backward and swallowed by Mara's creed-
Forever blind, no light to see.
Hi
Kenshō Aug 2014
I surf the sky, above the city;
I notice the poor and addicts and their pity.
I can see the future from here-
My mind is overwhelmed with thoughts of fear.
The men in black are having a mechanical cheer..

I can walk the path of any persons feelings.
I can see way beneath the banana peeling.
I observe all these people stealing.
We must come together to start the healing.
I know, when you think about it you get that feeling..

Differences are minor in proportion to how we are alike.
It shouldn't matter how fast you ride, we all learned to ride the bike.
It shouldn't matter when you arrived, you had to take the hike..
Now is the time for peace to strike.
For violence and isolation has failed many times.
old poem
  Aug 2014 Kenshō
The Unbeliever
Its so strange, to have a sister
Not one of blood, but worse, born in pain
Did she dream of one day her real mother
Coming to the door?
Would she pack a bag
or leave without saying good bye?
Did she dream of this like me?

Its so weird, for her to say to me
The things I think, felt and feel
Its like a racetrack
going off the rails
But so sad

You know all the whys
All the hows, and deep scars
A hiding game of
Don't say this, admit that
I know where the secrets are
What pains most, at right now
How it eats, and twists the knife

And perfectly why
my mirror won't say
Never admit, never surrender
The pain, pain, pain
Broken shards, mirror me
Almost exactly the same way

Are we so similar, half a world away
that when I read your words, I feel your pain
How could we both be broken, exactly the same way?
Mother's, father's and loves, heartbreak and children done
Then to see the pain, a recent secret she won't give away

But don't you worry, Dear, its safe with me
I won't bring it up, I'll let it be
If you want to talk, I am all ears
But you've done everything but scream it
Trying to hide it, all but saying the words
Its such a great pain, only we might know
Let the weight of it relax, let me hold you close

Scary, that we're sisters, born of pain
Histories, have been
Too similar in experience,
I want nothing more than
to be sure your success
For one in particular, but for all the other women out there that have been abused, shut out and destroyed by their pasts, and have done things that they are not proud of, only to keep it close to their chests and let it eat at them until they can let it out: You are not alone.
  Aug 2014 Kenshō
Elizabeth Squires
a storm is brewing
over Bakers Creek
and the sound of the thunder
is less than meek

streaks of lightning
have hit the tall gum trees
and scattered
the small native bush bees

dim grey tones
have replaced the sunlight
the tempest is ensuing
with all its mighty

out of the full clouds
the rain now generously falls
rolling thunder echoes
through the Westerly wind squalls

on the bare hillsides
the dampness soaks in
giving the soil
a good drenching to the skin

the dusty track is laden
with wetness
which leaves a smell
of sweet earthiness

the storm has passed
and quietness descends
it is making its way
across the Clerkness wends

then it shall travel
along the Eastern range pines
until it resounds
over the topaz blue coastline
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