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 Dec 2024 Mark Wanless
Flea
As I see my self as a fourteen year old
I see that she was week of heart beaten
Like a dogs as I see her try to fight back
Not just for her dignity but also her dream
She finds her self getting into trouble
Her dreams crushed by bullying
As I try to talk to my younger self
I will have to tell them that it will get
Worse before it even gets better
It brakes my heart but then
I say it will get better sooner
Then later…..but she does not believe
Me but I can not push her to believe
She will have to experience the goodness at
Some point in life
Winter
is a monochrome beast,
with freezing paws, an icy purr
and bits of autumn stuck in his fur
 Dec 2024 Mark Wanless
Flea
Yes, shamanism involves the belief that a shaman's soul multiplies after death, with each disembodied spirit carrying the shaman's soul image:
After death: When a shaman dies, their personal spirits disperse back into the forest and on the mountaintops.
Soul multiplicity: Each disembodied spirit becomes a carrier of the shaman's soul image.
Shamanism is a religious practice that's often associated with Indigenous and tribal societies. Shamans are believed to have a connection to the otherworld and the power to: heal the sick, communicate with spirits, and escort souls of the dead to the afterlife.
Shamans are also believed to have the ability to: foretell the future, advise on the whereabouts of game animals, predict impending catastrophes, and control the forces of nature.
We sit together at separate tables,
two bitter old nags who share the same stable,
once we shared every beat of the heart
but somehow we ended up miles apart
If the past’s
not alive
The future
is dead

With memory
starving
Hope’s promise
unfed

What yesterday
gives us
Tomorrow
awaits

All hope
in the transfer
Of destiny’s
— fate

(The New Room: November, 2024)
~•§•~ Light Sleeper v2.0 ~•§•~
(song attempt/build)

One foot in the ground
One foot six feet deeper
With darkness all around
Fear's such a light sleeper
My fall never made a sound
Put the tree on loudspeaker
A picture doesn't last longer
If it's never a keeper

See here

Feeeearrr
Doesn't make a sound
What you heeeearrr
Is your spirit finally found
Get an eeeearrr...
...ful when you finally hear it
Just hope you survive it
And don't sound like a hypocrite

But that's just it
The stage is set
Place your bet
Guess what you get
You get
What you get
And that's just life
Yet we forget
How far we went
Can't repent
Good karma's spent
Left indecent
Ran the gauntlet
Pain's permanent
Still not been
Defeated yet

Think a sec

Feeeearrr
Doesn't make a sound
What you heeeearrr
Is your spirit finally found
Get an eeeearrr...
...ful when you finally hear it
Just hope you survive it
And don't sound like a hypocrite (x2)

©2024
Light Sleeper version 2.0
Should I write it like I hear it or not?
(Coming from a "lyrical" (a loose term) begining, and being completely honest, I'm not sure the proper poetry/art etiquette or most of poetries rules and guidelines for that matter. That makes it so freeing to me, not knowing the way "I'm supposed to do it" and doing how it feels (cliche warning) in the moment. It's beautiful...
Example
Fear (Feeeearrr)
Hear (heeeearrrr)
Ear (eeeearrrr)
~ following “A Simple Poem”~ (1)

But of course, we reference revelations,
for our brief self-description are guises,
meant to hide, meant to impress, reveal
little, enhance our mystery, preserve our
secrecy. expose and hide simultaneously
within our mid-of-night aura mystiques

Safe behind the curtain, we wizards speak
in voices and tongues, giving up our innermost everything in verse, write of our blessings and our curses, holding  little back while we give ourselves away, hint by hinting, writ by writing, a series of
+++++++’s

I choose, I chose, to dress my chess pieces
in a clear varnish, **** the consequences,
sail towards the torpedoes, heading direct
to meet your eyes, giving up my forest
tree by tree, poem by poem, a leaf and
a branch, only tinkering and fussing like a new parent over each new virtual birthing,

and then once tidied,
once spent,
my secrets unconcealed,
we wonder quick if each
puzzle when connected
to its predecessor is 
understood
as a tiny pointilisme dot,
a speck
and that you are wise enough to
comprehend how each speck,  
lives only unique in its
conjunction,
only tandem-with both the one
nearest and the ones dabbed a decade
long ago, and when you connect  
my dots, I stand before you completely
a full and a naked folio,
one book of a single reveal,
the sum of my totality,
an addition of many integers,  
summing up to 1

So,

should we pass by each other,
our eyes will pierce, each wrinkle,
solving the equation of who we are…
a single human, readily identifiable,
total recognition, via the reconnaissance
of our letterered footsteps
(1) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4917327/a-simple-poem/


12:50am
Nov. 20
in the year twenty twenty four
Two painful events led to a hospital
and a team of cardiologists, lots
of tests ensued, a plugged artery
in my heart they informed, a stent
procedure in a few days will hopefully
solve the problem and I can get back to
normal living, normalcy you see is a very
good thing. Not to be taken for granted.
Hope to see you all on the flip side.
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