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There is no gift
Greater than the gift of love
                  
No brighter feeling than
The selfless act of loving
                        
There is no
Satisfaction greater
Than the exchange of
The heart

Baby what I’m trying to say
Is that
I am full of love

If I give you my heart

           I hope that,
               You’re
               not
               full
               of
        sh———T
 Oct 2019 james nordlund
Yitkbel
Enlightenment isn’t the discovery of the already known.
     No need to illuminate where the sun had already shone.

I. The Roads Endlessly Traveled

The Truth may be hidden and infallible
It can’t be said the same for its roads
For all past voyagers false or true
Will leave marks, endless trails of clues
A path may be closed
Others cut through
Wind and dust, and overgrowth
May cover and obscure a shallow few
And though light footprints oft lose to leaves and dew
We can’t blame them all for us being astray still
        If we stomp out the old
        And naively begin anew
Then we will truly be lost
To unknowingly retrace
Footpath already abandoned and used



II. The Miner and the Gardener

And now there are two ways
One clear path to the garden of reason
Always in the open, clear as day
And
Another a tunnel to either valleys or caves
Ever shrouded behind a gateway obscured
Dark in passion, fright or daze

And there are two travellers
Workers searching for the same

  The one of the tunnel
  Always mines for ore
Dreaming to one day find the sunkissed
Palace

The other of the garden
Constantly gather berries
To fill his insatiable hunger for sweet
Sense and wits

Till now
Both of them have gathered more than
They’ll ever need or use

What pleasant wonder, and departure from this
Tedium  
Could they discover if they would switch places

Would the gardener of sense
Finally have a vessel for his fruits
Unused
To not be sullied
And preserve
For all men and women, and children to enjoy
Always, anytime in any season
From summer days of knowledge
To even wintry days of reason

Would the miner of lofty dreams
Rejoice in the replenishing of strength
Forevermore
Sipping the sugary wine
Of ceaseless ideas
Along with his gardener mate
And ***** friends of all earthly grace
All the more stronger
To altogether breach
And reach The Forever
Cloudless Place



Where the sun never sleeps,
But only dreamy coze will we embrace.
Please read: :)
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3354537/learn-from-scars-not-flesh-unmarked-song-of-tormented-souls/

---
Travel All Roads - The Rational and The Ideal
     Enlightenment isn’t the discovery of the already known.
     No need to illuminate where the sun had already shone.
By: Yue Xing Yitkbel ****
October 6, 2019, Finished Writing at 23:17


I really should be getting back to reading. But I just can't stop writing all these thoughts that rush to mind. Not exactly that divine and guiding nausea I always feel and have often written about but close:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2236340/the-guiding-nausea/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3120157/the-divine-nausea/




---
This came to me spontaneously, and so I wrote all in one go. It is my immature exploration of the age-old problem of dualism, and what has been repeated a million times in the dire warning of the various variations of “If we forget the past, we’re doomed to repeat it.” Ironically it is more than likely, now that I have read it through, that it is too simple and obvious of a metaphor and allegory to not have been told before, perhaps even countlessly, and in many languages.  The irony being me having read so little to not actually be familiar with human history and our literary past.

Alas, even so, I see too many wise men boast about their correctness in a fallible road to truth while mocking those that walk a different path, perhaps not entirely correct, but still, infallible and non-disprovable as lost souls.

Even though we are all still lost. Perhaps, we are getting ever closer to the end, but nevertheless, it is yet unreached.

And so perhaps it is not so redundant for me to repeat this Critique of Pure Reason in my childish words.

Travel All Roads, Walk All Path.

You’ll never know where it goes, what it shows until you’ve seen and experienced the journey yourself.

Enlightenment isn’t the discovery of the already known.
No need to brighten where the sun had already shone.
I want to fly
In the blue sky

I don’t have Aeroplane
Nor have wings

I still choose to fly
Through my imagination

I bet I’ve experienced
Pleasant and happy journey

Much more than those
Who have wings or Aeroplane.
I Just want to Fly
 Oct 2019 james nordlund
Eryck
The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
  Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
  I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.

       But on the other side of town
       someone struggles with
       addiction.

 Habits grab hard,
break will powers  in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.

Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.

     If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal? 
 Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.

Isn't there  a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?

Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.

Guiding spirit it ends here!         

No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.

Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
 No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!
A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe who wrote the greatest of poems,"The Raven" and died young of alcoholism. Listen to Christopher Walken recite "The Raven" on you tube.
 Oct 2019 james nordlund
Eryck
I try this job
         I try that      
         they tell me
         That's not where I'm at
"Your not college grade material."
"Try a trade school."
         I feel the fool
        down- and- out sad
         I get the same
         from me mom and dad
"Some times tryings  not enough if your not smart enough."  "You'll have to work two jobs to everyone else's one."
          I slog on
         Shuffle my feet
         Beat the streets
         to The work man's beat
"Good jobs are for others, take what you can get." "Don't expect a lot out of life and you'll be fine."
         I try my best
         ain't good enough
         Hurled in the world
         where it's rough and tough
"Get you a bus pass and some free government cheese."  "You'll get ***** hands and need a strong back."
          Food, rent, clothes, life
          On minimum pay
          No way no way
          can this work day to day
"Find a roommate, sell your blood, collect cans, get to love 29 cent ramen noodles, you'll  be o.k."
           Thousands upon thousands
            In every city
            Ain't  pretty, real ******
            And zero pity
"Sorry but there's the "haves and the "have nots", welcome to the lousy end." "Buck up, other countries  are worse."
            While the rich get richer
             and the poor get poorer
             How did surviving in
             America
             Become such a horror
"Your the working class, blue collar, the modern day slave, get used to it. Now shut up and get back to work!!"
we were poor
but not deluded

and when
van morrisson's
"brown eyed girl"
comes on the radio on
that worn
old
brown rug
my brother and I
started tapping our feet
shaking our heads
to the music and
our sisters are smiling
at us and
our mother is laughing
at us

and all we needed was
laughter and love
a prayer and a song

turn up the radio
I could put in the words what I do,
It becomes so irrelevant to
what I say despite for it not be
It just deeply affected me.
I do what needs to be done
It needs not be said so seldom.
In the dark of the night,
From left to the right
Don't cut, no bite
I have to say to be in the fight
To be few and fortunate.
With the crimes increasing,
And people turning cold,
You need more to live by
Give more and try
To make this earth a nice place
All across
.
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