Path #1

Forgiveness is the sinking
head into heart..
The head dwelling in separation
concedes logic's demands
but confronting questions
time after time:
Why? and What?
Surrendering at last
to the sinking..
dissolving..
becoming..
the Heart...


Path #2

Forgiveness is downloading
of new software..
Our old software
employs the ego rampant
rendering forgiveness
a difficult dream
searching in forlorn places
finding only traces..
New software finds it all
Here and Now...!


Path #3

Real forgiveness is Now
not in time..
Events in the past
seeming in need of
forgiveness
are only known
Now..
and what of the Now..?
it's other name
our true identity:
Forgiveness...



Path #4

Chaos
is an iteration
of Forgiveness..
a shading and
concealment of
formulated light..
Our awaking brings
the repentance
the return
the feedback
to never absent
Forgiveness...


Path #5

A shock it is
to learn that
Forgiveness is not personal..
It is a realization
of a substance common
to all concerned
transparent and eternal
the real Self..
With that realization
duality of conflict
dissolves in the
Light...


Path #6

Quantum forgiveness
is the only
forgiveness..
A leap into
infinite non-locality..
The suddenness arrives
within painful progress
or perhaps
strangely enough
out of the blue...!


Path #7

Forgiveness
an experience of sealing
our separate brokenness..
It is mandatory..
Yet the sealing
can be accomplished
only by those who see
there is no need
for the sealing...


Path # 8

Immersed
in a separated
dualistic reality
seeking forgiveness
in thought and time
is not satisfying..
The lingering pain
from a fruitless search
for forgiveness in
all the wrong places...


Path #9

Forgiveness
is a restoration of
peace and happiness
with new clarity:
The Awareness of
peace and happiness
was never in need of
restoration...


Path #10

We need to see clearly
that all relationships
take place in
infinite Awareness..
But wait..
not in .. but as..
All those hurts
are constrictions
of Awareness
crying out their
illusory separation...

a suffocating pain crawls up his throat
as he watches from the observation deck
a home once his now pathetically remote
in the cosmic vastness an agonizing speck!

brave wanderer was his dusty restless boot
his mind a yearning traveler on endless roam
love flew like sparks without growing root
never was one place could he call his home!

now before him stands an infinite rocky terrain
inviting him to unveil her unexplored asset
replicate a habitat of a different light and rain
build there a refuge retrieve a broken nest!

his lips seek a prayer as if to shake off fears
as creeps up his spine cold night's stardust
whispering the void of four ninety light years
the story of lost empire and all the broken trust!

With my hands on my hips
I looked back at the job that was just completed
All day in the field
Plowing and sowing
The suns beam was strong
There wasn't any wind
Just the hot glaring sun
My mouth was dry
Lips were parched
Back was tired
And my feet were aching
As I sighed and walked away
I was happy, pleased
And convinced
That life don't get no better than this

I have read too many poems
From those of you who want to die.

I read the words, I hear your voice,
Yes, I hear your desperate cry,
I am torn and heart-sick at your plight;
Yet, I have to ask you why?
For when you close your eyes forever,
The hurt and pain won’t go away,
It crawls inside all those you love,
Where it kills them every day.

Were you jilted by a lover?
Are you an addict, beaten down?
Or is it that you don’t fit in
On the ‘right’ side of the town?
Does no one understand you?
Or “It doesn’t matter anyway”,
Because when you try to tell us,
We listen not to what you say?

No, I cannot feel the pain you bear
But I understand it’s real
Is there anything that I can do,
To try and help you heal?
Do you want someone to hold your hand?
Do you want a shoulder for your tears?
Do you want someone to scream at you?
Or hold you tight and calm your fears?

Do you need a teacher?  Or a coach?
Or a banker for your debt?
Do you want a job that’s interesting,
Or any job that you can get?
Do you want to make somebody proud?
Or find someone to share your life?
Or do you only want a yes-man
To hand you the pills, give you the knife?

You may say, “Shut up old man! –
Don’t want to listen to your ****.
You’ve always had it easy,
You always won, you never had to quit.
You don’t have a ******* clue.”
And you’re right I probably don’t
But if you keep it all inside,
No one will, and I sure won’t.

Please seek some help, I beg of you
You each have talents, and a heart
There’s a remedy or cure somewhere
For the pain that’s tearing you apart
I’m not a doctor, or a shrink
But I’ve seen suicide up close,
It hurts and devastates the ones
Who loved the victim most.
Phil Lindsey  6/8/15
                     **1-800-273-8255

Weeds are
my favorite plants.
Their bad reputations
attract me the most.
They persevere.
They are successful.
They teach me to disdain
the world's opinions.
They remind me it is good
to be on earth
for no other reasons than
the joy of sunshine and rain.
They live on the edge
where everything
interesting happens.
I am very much a **** myself.
Weeds are something you
can count on to be there.
Not many such anchors
in one life. Take a hold;
pull one out. It will be back.
Count on it.

  ~mce

I love life the way it should be
Where we all have a soul mate
Where when we're born we see in color
Until our other's fate

But for me it's quite the opposite
I've never seen color a day in my life
All shades and highlights and different tones
Of the same old black and white 

Eventually I somehow came to terms
I accepted my colorless scheme 
So you can imagine how startled I was
When my reality took after my dream

I opened eyes to meet light shades of morning
To instead have them flooded with ***
I was bombarded by all of these new tints and tones
I couldn't ever select a choice one

Though after the initial shock of it all
I was startled once again more
With the realization that I finally found you
The someone meant to color my world

The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of deep wet grass, and of brown new-furrowed earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring’s glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm’s hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.

See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.

She's standing, and I smell
the fear she's emitting
it seeps from her every pore
and the baby is screaming
as he curses, his voice rising
like a volcano erupting
all it's dark ashes.

She rocks the baby
a pacifier for the tears falling
I hear a familiar lullaby
and I know she's afraid
and the lullaby is her way
of communicating her terror
as he curses again
                          again
                              again.

The singing is a bright red scream
and I catch the baby's eyes
a bottom lip turned over,
a head on a shoulder
the father shouts,
"You're my wife and I'm not leaving without you!"

Neither mother nor child
are safe, I know this
and I know this for all the reasons
I maybe shouldn't
but I know what fear smells of
I know the scent
I know the cues to surrender.

Mother and child
their eyes in misery
are screaming silently
to us all,
"Help us!"

© Sia Jane

Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you

I wake to his whistling
On the couch in the den
His mug full of black coffee
Now empty, he'll get up to fill it again

My grandfather is constant
He has never walked out on me
He has taught me that nonsense
Lies within the person who flees

I have watched him slow with age
His bones have grown weak and frail
I know that he sheds tears offstage
When he looks back on the trials of his tale

My grandfather is water
He flows and ebbs, traveling from place to place
But he has had three otters
To keep him company... just in case

He is a constant imperfect man
Who loves motorcycles and sweets
He's too laid-back to have a plan
But shows up early when we meet

I lie awake and I know he does the same
Staring at the ceiling is one thing we share in common
Sleep has always been like a waiting game
He wishes he could close his eyes more often

My grandfather is constant water
He is changeless and tranquil
I am certain that his love has made me stronger
Even when it appears to be casual