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If lies in us the mind of God
within us is God’s abode
then why most of the time
of our free will

We act a devil!
I know* she says what you aspire,
if I go earlier
not long will you wait
To find a new mate.


Surely not dear I reply
I too will die
and if not,
in that unbearable pain
will go insane.


I know better.

This morn only
saw my male budgie
cosying easily
to his new companion.

Can’t bear to be long

Forlorn!
Stephen Purcell Jul 2014
The gradient of the mind

Black tears she cries, black to match her dour estate.
In the halls of the house sits darkness.
Cold is the night, constricting and binding,
only the minds of the naive escape its clutches.

White encapsulates his psyche, blindingly brilliant
and wasteful purity.
Gradually poisoned, the shadows creep through.
His bright light turns to grey.

The shadows twist forward, watching always watching.
Ensnaring souls, precious souls and infecting all.
‘Shadows exist behind all objects illuminated’
Or so the saying goes.

The chalice fills, overflows and spills.
Spills the sorrow of the mourning, spills the wrath of the vengeful.
Spills the love of the kind and ignorance of the doubtful.
This cup tips and writhing colours meet on the ground.

Ribbons dancing fluidly in the wind, whirling like flames.
Sights unseen by mortal eyes for many ages gone by.
Tangible streams merrily fly from heart to heart,
loosely connecting motes of light in the darkness of the void.

Higher, the mind ascends, infinitesimal mysteries grow.
Deeper into the abyss, conundrums swirl in misty reaches.
Forbidden knowledge beckons.
In the locked tomes of silence, a whisper is heard.

Fingers close around your swallowing throat.
Trapped they have you. Cut off from all.
The power fills you, an urging you felt.
‘Escape: delve back into the hidden depths of time.’

One midsummers night you dream.
Of teary ladies and foreboding towers.
Morn arrives and you venture into the dawn,
her face in your mind and song on your lips.

The song begins, weaves and binds; the greatest of us all consumed.
Minds break, splinter and fracture under its demanding weight.
Fevered and weary we are compelled to follow. Nuanced and delicate, a haunting melody.
It dances through your mind. The song of Time.

Like fire it leaps from sapling to sapling.
We are all trees in this great forest of life.
Very few resist its intricate thrilling cadence.
Only five score have remained sane.
  Jul 2014 Stephen Purcell
Nat Lipstadt
Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better


focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!


for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed
the love I feel for all of the people, friends and poets in my life that give me
their best, their perspective...they know who they are..
7:32am on the dock by the bay, another blessing for which I don't have the words but keep on trying...they are..see below...
PostScript -  the pleasure of your affection for this writ, palpable and heart pounding but it only reflects the spirit that working wordsmiths share in loving camaraderie so deep in the hidden roots of this place. For which I swear I will never to cease to write upon this favorite optic topic a loving challenge...very humbly do I thank you
I love you
not because
you're good looking

I love you
not because
you're caring

I love you
not because
you dote on me

I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet

I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin

I love you
because
without you
I feel

incomplete within.
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