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annh  May 2019
The Navigator
annh May 2019
Beyond the shanty town of Midtendrift, where the moneylenders ply their trade among the aimless and avaristic, lie the ice prairies of Ensomfelt. The region is a barren wasteland whose boundaries are flanked to the west by the bottomless crevasse of Issorg and to the east by Lake Hjertestorm.

Those who come to wander this no-man’s-land may find that they disappear from the earth for a time - from themselves, and from the memory of others. Relying only on inspiration to guide them, they pass this way unseen, their weary feet making shallow graves in the freshly fallen snow.

The rocky outcrop at Engeldrøm marks the gateway to the in-countries. Nestled beneath the foothills of Mount Håp, this is the place to which souls lost to the world of ego and ambition return to take up their torch and remember.

During the long northern winter, the sky above Håp is an expanse of indigo ocean punctuated with an infinity of lamplights. Among these lanterns which float free of the earth, the North Star shines the brightest. It is here that you will find your journey’s end and a treasure trove of truth, forged in fire and sealed in ice.

Apologies for the bastardised Norwegian:
Midtendrift - Middle Drift
Ensomfelt - Lonely Field
Issorg - Ice Sorrow
Hjertestorm - Heart Storm
Engeldrøm - Angel Dream
Håp - Hope
Sam Hawkins  Jul 2017
To Action
Sam Hawkins Jul 2017
Let this be spark to collective action!
The exercise of natural freedoms and equality.

Sever attachments, break from your safety,
from the shores of who you think you are.

Set sail with faith,
placing ideologies in abeyance.

Set sail with soul songs,
join with saints and strangers
harmoniously singing.

Be ALL as One
in open repartee.

Brothers and sisters, all of a wild nature–
none left uninvited.

Friends at heart all, all welcome!

Who shall be chief navigator?

Trace sensitive fingers on contour maps the Universe makes.
Apply improvisations; as we navigate, we invent.

With tiniest of maps (the same is the largest
with infinite pathways) we are destined exactly
to found and inhabit New Earth.

Who brings gifts of intuitive sensing?

Everyone?
Shall we draw straws?

Any can buddy up with the experts
at the rational sextant.

Every single she and he of us
is a guiding star.

Accordingly, let’s begin
convergent conversations of stars.

Of the humans who choose to stay behind, let us love them.
Let us love them and let’s be on our way!

It is enough now that many have had good intentions,
have spoken authentically, enthusiastically.

Yet they do not wish to enter in.
Each in his or her own time.

Others have voiced opposition,
demonstrated resistance.

Some others — stuck in apathy,
in numbness, powerlessness.

Is fear of ****** death
the ultimate stopping?

What is living if living itself
is death?

Are you one who has ears
to hear?

Are you that very passenger
ready to disavow, to disembark?

Have you awakened
to your own alluring whisper?

Let us begin.
Faizel Farzee Sep 2019
Completely spaced out again
When will this endless voyage end
The cemented past does not want to bend
Tired of trying to will the impossible i'm spent

I'm just a feather on a breeze, going with the flow
Life is the navigator, it's steering the boat
Erupting emotions about to blow
Missing again, i lost hope

Thoughts spinning, caught within the eye of the storm
Separate from the world, my pen refuse to conform
To the sadness and chaos it is magnetically drawn
I feel the worlds pain, in my soul it's still warm

Words of wisdom i spew
From a broken winged mind it flew
What i preach, please don't misconstrued
These words come from the heart, a place of truth

Let's take a second and realize what to the world we have done
It's beauty a hostage, locked in cages and paintings for our fun
This worried message is a global concern, its for everyone
The world is decaying, Armageddon has silently begun.
Truth bombs exploding from my sleepy mind,
i have to write, these feelings are not kind.
forcing me to capture these words on the pages
wrenching every word from my minds cages
please let me go, i just want to sleep
Not until you capture the worlds pain,
It continuously  whispers to me
Star BG  Dec 2018
I AM (#1)
Star BG Dec 2018
I am that I am.
An avatar of compassion.
The distant traveler inside human form.

Who am I...
A sage on mission of dream.
A warrior of light.
A spark of The Divine.
The sacred one who pulsates with song.

I am that I am.
An Avatar for peace and joy.  
The grand vessel wrapped in sacred light.

Who am I...
much more than human.
A navigator of stars.
A creative being who sings with grace.    
The one inside eternal quest to free soul.

I am that I am.
An avatar of love and light.
A seeker with gifts to share with world.
A mirror of everything.
The one who bows toward all.
And star-seed here to aid humanity

Who be you? Who be you?
inspired by  RJ and Lori Jones McCaffery
One of three poems
Robert Ronnow Nov 2019
Empires and rivers, time and space, man and nature.
Yet nothing, nothing satisfies like clear sinuses and arteries.
The struggle to express and understand is seemingly futile.
Pope’s Iliad, Milton’s Paradise, Armand Schwerner’s Dante.

Chemotherapy, quatrains, everything rhymes with comedy.
Good luck saying anything useful. Solutions to the equations
Are called wave functions or orbitals. Armpits and genitals.
Three *****, two strikes, full count. First and goal. Global

Warning.
So far, a few pages into his tome, Easterbrook has one useful
Idea:  "In almost every ecological category, nature for millions of centuries has been generating worse problems than any created by people. U.S. factories, power plants and vehicles emit about 19 million tons per year of sulfur dioxide, the chief cause of acid rain. Yet in 1991, the Mount Pinatubo eruption in the Philippines emitted an estimated 30 million tons of sulfur dioxide in just a few hours. Ongoing natural processes such as volcanic outgassing and ocean chemistry put about 100 million tons of sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere annually. Nature has spent vast spans of time learning to cope with acid rain, greenhouse gases, climate change, deforestation, radiation, species loss, waste, and other problems we humans so quaintly believe ourselves hurling at the environment for the first time."
One of nature’s coping mechanisms is species extinction. As for the
      individual,

Being good or bad, rational or instinctual, violent or compassionate
Are survival strategies. The economist in you wonders
Why care about the future, the dead don’t live to see it.
Life is a river and the self is an empire. Read their poems.

Or any other mountain with a fiery *****.
Am I the only one here who is sexually aroused by certain landscapes,
      ridges like *****, gorgeous vaginas.
He wanted to get the world into his poem so he did. She wanted to know
      one person or place intimately
so she did. The substance of Easterbrook’s argument: what doesn’t **** the
      biome makes it stronger.

Bogle Phantom 2007
"The coveted Phantom, Bogle’s apparition of three unique varietals, combines lush berry and fierce spice into a wine of complex character. Vivid essence of black pepper, dark fruit and juniper haunts the nose, while brighter flavors of blackberries and blueberries glance off the palate. From the shadows, toasty cinnamon and nutmeg emerge, subtly embracing the deeply luscious and succulent fruit to create a full-bodied, ruby-rich wine captured in 1, 2 and 3 year old American oak barrels."

Being good is its own reward, but what’s good!
I can take you and you and you and you and win.
That tiny Buddha, intricately carved, among the hemlocks, near the
      stream cutting the gorge, a parallelogram of white birch bark for
      a prayer mat,
Is gone.

Did a selfish traveler or the original owner take him far?
Although he had reorganized the woods around him like Stevens’ jar
I find the woods remain organized and orderly without him.
I go home and the naming of things goes on.

"Each of the planet’s cultures is a unique answer to the question of what it means to be human. And together they make up our repertoire for dealing with the challenges that will confront our species in the millennia to come. Consider the achievements of the Polynesians. Ten centuries before Christ—at a time when European sailors, incapable of measuring longitude and fearful of the open ocean, hugged the shores of continents—the Polynesians set sail across the Pacific, a diaspora that would eventually bring them to every island from Hawaii to Rapa Nui, the Marquesas to New Zealand. They had no written word. They only knew where they were by remembering how they got there. Over the length of a long voyage the navigator had to remember every shift of wind, every change of current and speed, every impression from sea, sky and cloud. Even today Polynesian sailors, with whom I have voyaged, readily name 250 stars in the night sky. Their navigators can sense the presence of distant atolls of islands beyond the visible horizon by watching the reverberation of waves across the hull of their vessels, knowing that every island group has its own reflective pattern that can be read with the ease with which a forensic scientist reads a fingerprint. In the darkness they can discern five distinct ocean swells, distinguishing those caused by local weather disturbances from the deep currents that pulsate across the Pacific and can be followed as readily as a terrestrial explorer would follow a river to the sea."
Easterbrook, Gregg, A Moment on the Earth: The Coming Age of Environmental Optimism, Penguin Books, 1996.
--Davis, Wade, “Last of Their Kind: What Is Lost When Cultures Die?”,
Scientific American, September 2010.
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