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 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
U R 1
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
Catching up
I take a crash course
The end is near
And I’m just now
Shifting geer

What is real
That can’t be seen
Ever changing
My infinite needs

It seems we can only know what it is to approach death
and not the nature of the beast itself
that awaits our IMPENDING arrival!
Traveler Tim
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
IF SO THEN
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
If...
The engine of the universe
Is
Mathematical in nature

Then...
The circuits of consciousness
Are
Fundamentally incomplete

There is no scientific definition of consciousness

Reality is bleak
In the eyes of a scientist
Drowning
In the laws of physics.
Traveler Tim

I was talking to a scientist associate of mine.

Is love irreducible
Or a simplistic neuron??
 Dec 2020 Eman
Stephen E Yocum
Returning from the grocery store,
my only trip out in weeks,
I passed by our small town's
High School, all pandemic
deserted and shuttered now.

Slowing, I stopped my car,
taken by momentary joyfulness,
out there in bright blue Band
uniform on the football field,
a single drummer marched
all alone,

Her enthusiastic snare drum  
echoing out stirring, lonely
rhythmic staccato sounds.

This solitary stalwart drummer
practicing in the rain, rehearsing
skillful steps and robust drum
beats, until she gets the call.

Remaining ever ready when
normalcy reluctantly comes rolling
back around. Where marching bands
and football players once again tread
upon this nearly hallowed ground.
Hope lives within us all,
this dire time too shall pass.
 Dec 2020 Eman
Onoma
the cavalry of the centaur

composes him, halved lord

of the rush made complete.

a groundswell foresting,

blowing open a canopy.

redhaired variations to the maiden

meeting the charge of her

foliage head on.

the spine of her last change

of color.

parting her fingers on that

forest ground.
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
Honesty
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
Not pretending that your feelings
are not what they are.
Do you love?
Do you love strangers?
Do you love invisible spirits?
What lie shall we believe
As great as the evil in your heart
you could never love me.

And if you choose not to decide
you still have made a choice!
Traveler Tim

There’s no such thing as wrong feelings
Be not terrified of your reality
 Dec 2020 Eman
Pax
Ask the world
 Dec 2020 Eman
Pax
I ask the people of the world
Why must we keep boxes of
each race, barricades in each
Borders, separate lives of each
Cultures, as our truth varries in
    each mirrored choices, then we
Carry the havy consequences,
The burden of these shackled
Past - we ponder to wonder
These nightmarish Regrets
So in the end, the answer is
Subjective, rules and walls
Are there for a reasonable
Purpose
It maybe
good or bad
Light or dark
Day or night
An infinite battle
Running in circles
         to maintain
chaos and order
in one box.
we the inhabitants of the world
Conquerors to our own selfish deeds
Our Survival depends
to the equally cruel
jungle and our own fellow.
 Dec 2020 Eman
Traveler
This poem begins with
an interesting headline
designed to grab
your dire attention

The body builds
on more outlandishness
rhythms and rhymes
paradoxical calculations
oxymoronic wisdoms

Now the  ending
of hope paired
with the introduction
of enlightenment

Coda
exposed feelings
the end
...
Traveler Tim

What a relief
 Dec 2020 Eman
Glenn Currier
I told the wise old man I didn’t like the word, “sin.”
     He said:
          “My son, remember the Greek
          an archery term – to miss the mark -
          no human always hits the bulls-eye
          just practice your aim
          train your muscles and eyes
          so next time you release the arrow of action
          you will come closer.
          Practice practice practice, my son.
          Don’t wallow in shame
          it will bog you down.
          Instead, stand up, pick up arrow
          check its feather
          raise bow and arrow together
          open your eyes and again take aim
          release yourself from darkness of blame
          and again join the human race.”
 Dec 2020 Eman
Onoma
Himalayan projection screen,

undulant sea tones brushed by

silken zephyrs.

devoted parameters of mind,

stroked wide open by jasmine.

a yogi's hands coming together

at the chest, at the forehead, over

the crown.

Ganga fore-tears in tumults of white,

precisely when she was given to flow.

Shakti pregnant with afterglow,

lifegiving--unbroken in labor.
 Dec 2020 Eman
Nat Lipstadt
~dedicated to the old poets here~

the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers

a chance, a tensile injection that causes

the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency

a geometry of many differing angles that equate

a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring

the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited

filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!


————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting

(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm  NYC
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