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Derrick Jones Apr 2021
The mystic missed the mist

For he was focused on the most

The waterfall, the all, the awe

No longer just the grist, the gist

He was the mill, the real, the wheel

No longer knowing, he could fully feel

Past the taste, the snack, and to the meal

So freely given he could not hope to steal
Thank you for being. If you would like to see more of my poetry, essays, and other writings, check out my blog on Medium:
Derrick Jones Mar 2021
Sun and moon

Flower and bloom

This is a cartoon

But also in tune

With reality

The stream flowing freely

Merrily, dreamily

The me flowing me-ly



We are Grist for the Mill

That’s the gist, I’m just a shill

In the mist, I don’t shoot to ****

I aim my arrow with love

To heal, I wield this skill

And I point my pistol high into the sky

I will throw away my shot

Again and again

So that others know where to aim

I am but a photon blasting into and out of the sun

I am all and I am one

Just begun, yet fully spun

Not just having fun, I am become
Thank you for being. If you would like to see more of my poetry, essays, and other writings, check out my blog on Medium:
Derrick Jones Jan 2021
All is well as I respire by the fire
Residing in my recliner
Nothing finer
Nor diviner
I’m no miner
But this is gold
I’m not a whiner
I’ve been told
But even so
**** this is amazing
Derrick Jones Jan 2021
You have to forgive yourself for past wrongs
Or they will hold you back forever
They become the specter you must face
The space behind your face
That voice saying no
That barrier to flow
Your greatest foe
That just can’t be so

If the present is all then why not just fall?
Why look to the past, to all that you lack
You could just stand tall, straighten your back
With focus and attention there’s room for ascension
Transmission to a higher plane
Where there is no pain
Nestled in the lion’s mane

Same same but different
When you say religion
I see what’s missin’
No believing in fiction
Just feel this friction
Nuclear fission
The energy between you and me
The heartbeat of the universe
The electric thrum
The tribal drum
Or two spoons on a tub
The beat moves right through me
I can’t hold it back
It taps into something I no longer lack
This rhythm flows freely
I’m no longer just me
I am that i am that I am
Endlessly spiraling
No longer dialing
But tiling this world with the love at its core
Painting the shore with light from the ocean floor
The love that I found when I stopped looking for more
The love that finally opened the door
Derrick Jones Dec 2020
No place to go
No thing to know
Only, flow
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at
Thanks for reading!
Derrick Jones Dec 2020
The spine
The antenna for the divine
A straight line
Define and refine the signals to and from the mind
Find the vibe that makes you come alive
Light the fire, the livewire, that you transmit ’til you expire

From root to crown
From up to down
This flow of energy
A life force
A coursing current
Sometimes a torrent
A constant stream that means so much
And it manifests through the sense of touch

Vibrations, reverberations
Localizing in our nervous congregations
Stemming from the spinal cord
These chakras strike a chord
Soul patches
Energy clusters that muster so much energy
And when in flow, they all shine with light
But when in doubt, tangled up
These tentacles of energy can glow too bright
When the flow’s not right
When the foe’s in sight
Fight or flight
In the world or in our mind
When we leave the flow behind
We weave a tangled thread
Which may focus in our head
Or our heart
In the root, the sacrum, the solar plexus
The throat, the crown, the third eye nexus
These energy centers out of whack when we aren’t centered
How do we get back from the twisted stream we’ve entered?

It is all sensation
Machinations in the mind cannot unwind
The neural fibers of our spine
A focal point for energy
A chakra
Resistance is a trap that keeps us coming back
Stuck in a whirlpool
That wants to flow free
But resistance blocks the stream
When there’s a disturbance in the force
Turmoil or avoidance that distorts
That chakra glows too bright
Instead of flow you start to fight
Your chest gets tight
Butterflies in the stomach
Something stuck in your throat
You can just float
You need no boat or moat or antidote
It’s all sensation, vibrations
Traveling up and down your spine
Manifesting in your mind
And in that flow there is a freedom
Sit up straight and breathe in deeper
Energy flowing freely
Resistance yields persistence
So give up the fight
Dissolve into light
Stop floundering in the whirlpool
You have found the portal
Let it **** you in
You’ll find an ocean deep within
Your mind will open
You can breathe the water
It was water all along
No longer drowning
You can just be
Resting in the deep
At peace with seven pieces of your body
Portals to the deep
Or whirlpools that will keep you stuck
You decide your own luck
Make them a locus of control
Let focus be your goal
Seven pieces finally whole
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at
Thanks for reading!
Derrick Jones Dec 2020
Conversations are like hikes in the realm of thought.

Multiple people traversing ideas, concepts, memories, emotions. Together.

Once the conversation ends, it’s like a completed hike, a route you can re-trek, go back to explore even further.

Like a tracing of a route on a map, the conversation is almost like a work of art. A map of the world of thought created and experienced in-between those conversing.

Some conversations, like hikes, are scattered, going all over, making many detours.

Others are a nice straight path, easy to follow.

Other conversations can take many interesting turns, detours, and leave you somewhere totally unexpected.

Some are like climbing a mountain, difficult to follow the trails, requiring great effort, but the view from the top is extraordinary.
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at
Thanks for reading!
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