By Abpoetry


Better know it,
Better believe it,
Its really coming,
There is no running,

Roses bloom , no more,
And the fruits kept sacred,
Mason jars less broken,
Evils comes , you better scope it,

Pleasing other people,
will not get you anywhere,
protecting your energy,
Fake as extincting bears,

Proven the innocence,
Some work 12 jobs and ****,
Take time to find yourself,
To be the best and ****..

Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.

A canopy of clusters.

At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.

Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.

Revive them with your breath.

Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.

The warm sound of flutterings.

Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.

The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                  Palm Sunday Processional and a Volkswagen

We’re along the four-lane, no village street
And so in the parking lot with our palms we meet
We begin our hymn at a Fiat, mama mia!
And step off from alongside my brother’s new Kia

I suppose we could sing, “O Cadillac, My Destiny”
While waving our fronds over a wingless Mercury
Watch your step; there’s a Honda Accord
Oh, look; I found a penny – praise the Lord!

We have only the four-lane, no village street
But at the church door we have Jesus to greet

Dancing for love like a flamingo,
But all I am is a collection of letting go...

Held by waves but lost in a tide,
Losing the memory of love—left behind...

Chasing it like crazy- up  and above,
Realising i am the love i was rooting for...

Humanity has been so much like a child
With too many rich, useful toys,
Playing with each one that's given,
And discarding it when something
Newer appears in its midst.

We have been dilettantes and amateurs
With some of our greatest notions
For human betterment.
We have been spoilt children:
We have been like tyrannical children;
Impatient and imperious, demanding
Proof when listening is required,
Tearing things down when they don't do
What we want them to do
(How much simpler to let things do only
What they can do)
Being uncreative about what seems dark
And terrifying; preferring
Only what seems easy
And effortless;
Questioning the numbers
Of a philosophy's
Followers rather than examining
The fruitfulness of its ideas;
Wandering down blind alleys of populism
That lead to concentration camps;
Refusing to admit our vast crimes and mistakes
Denying the horrors of the slave trade
Minimising the reality of the gas chambers
Tearing our hair out in futile attempts
At reconciling civilization with genocide,
When civilization (as we have come to accept it)
Never did mean the true universal goodness
Of heart,  but rather meant the self-mythology
Of a people, a race.
No, neither the good in us, nor
Our capacity for evil are exhausted.
Time will show just how young
We are in our abilities,
Of genius for good and evil.
For all these strains, unexamined,
And unredeemed,
Will find their higher fruition
In the unlit centuries to come.

by Ben Okri from Mental Fight An Anthem for the Twenty-First Century

"Whatever we convey to you,
You think we're lying,
Better get real familiar cause loose ends are tying,
They love politics and the underlying,
You understand the half without innersighting,
Better get acquainted with the chakra finding,
Lacking discipline, cut out all that trauma dumping,
They tried to block the energy , there is no stopping,
Collecting all the data that they store like shopping"....

(full poem in link below)

for Roger Caillois

Water hollows stone,
wind scatters water,
stone stops the wind.
Water, wind, stone.

Wind carves stone,
stone's a cup of water,
water escapes and is wind.
Stone, wind, water.

Wind sings in its whirling,
water murmurs going by,
unmoving stone keeps still.
Wind, water, stone.

Each is another and no other:
crossing and vanishing
through their empty names:
water, stone, wind

by Octavio Paz, translated by Eliot Weinberger