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Robin Green Jul 2020
Running  through my brain
Emotions filled with anger sadness and pain
Walking to the edge and looking down
I know I could end it all by hitting the ground
Trying hard to find a reason to live some more
I search my hardest right down to my core
I recall memories of my life
Some are happy others filled with strife
Memories come flowing  through my brain
Tears run down like a torrential rain
I think of my daughter and son
Memories filled with laughter and fun
Being grandma has brought lots of joy
1 granddaughter 4 grandboys
I step back from the very edge
Nope today  isn't the day I step off the ledge
I'll leave these words as I depart
May love joy and happiness fill your heart
Robin Green Jul 2020
Invisible Scars are just a token,
the young girls' heart has been broken
Tears burn her eyes like a fire
Someone to care about her is her utmost desire
The invisible scars are just a token
Of lines crossed and boundaries broken
the young girl still has a sliver of hope
She is figuring out life and how to cope
The invisible scars are just a token
But the young girls' spirit has never been broken
Happiness and Joy have awoken
Invisible scars are no longer a token because she was never broken
ross larson Jul 2020
now I know
where I come from
why I am
so different
from you
I take a breath
and hope
you can see
what it means
to be inside
the body
I call
me
Billie Marie Jul 2020
These little pieces of myself will all burn away
After looking again and again
After taking it all to be real for so long
Not really looking at it
only just wearing it
even though it felt scratchy and ill-fitted

Now to give it a new sort of attention
the kind it gives to its concept of god
Not curious but
critical and cynical and carefully contemplative
the little pieces don’t get hurt feelings
or bent out of shape
cuz they lose it
They don’t cry or get depressed
Only they fall away
like overripe fruit
never picked and eaten
They are not what I am
Only the pieces that make up
who I once thought myself to be

I was never abused or depressed
Never victimized and alone
I was never ugly or stupid
or worthless or a hot mess
a **** or a lame
useless and insane
These pieces aren’t like a puzzle
See that’s what I never was told

I am whole already
Completely alive and free to discard
those adjectives that I don’t care
to describe this being
Which in reality can’t be any
or even all of those bits mashed-up together
Miracles can’t be picked apart and
named and labeled as what they are not
And a mirror only reflects
what might see it first

How can there be
what is clearly not seen
when I peer back into this so-called me?
So actually the truth I can see is
I can’t really look and see this I am
but truly can only be this I am
Because when I look back and see
all the pieces they say I am
the only conclusion must be
that these so-called pieces of me
are not at all in reality
that which I am
Billie Marie Jul 2020
Do we have to mark off the dates,
one by one, for some purpose we hadn't made?
There is nothing profound about awakening.
Everyone can do it.
Do? Well, be it. Everyone IS it.
How can this be special?
In the human sense, it is profundity.
In consciousness, it is what is.
When you step away from constructs, they disappear;
Lose their allure and glamour and mystery and pseudo-power,
which you see is no power at all.
Only a kind of rigidity attempting control.
Again, not real. Only imagined. By who?
Me? You? Same difference.
If it's believed then it's true for you.
A great power over your own delusion of a construct.
A king of mole hills and ant valleys populated by lost souls.
It is nothing.
Can you stand the silence of your own insignificance?
Where there is no audience, there is no actor.
Yes, the sky is a mirror and what do you see?
You see only you.
What do you want to see when you see this world of yours?
Billie Marie Jul 2020
I have been given
the burdensome gift
of this one
to allow me to see what it is

I know it
watch it move and twist
to what end?
only destruction

I see one cannot contend with it
for it is not real
as one is
it is a byproduct of one’s play

One tests oneself
to see how far one can go
in the human sense
destruction is how one is reborn

So this play is divinely necessary
yet something seems to have gotten out of control.
who is the one seeming to be out of control?
the one seeming to have lost its control?

It seems to get confusing
seems to get in the way
of the seeming reality
now you can see it is all this one

Taking different shapes
squeezing into various forms
only to have some fun
in the human sense

Ego will always serve only itself
and to the end of all it knows
thank God
that it knows only a little

You see this
when you see Self
and the world you knew
becomes small and distant

Like watching from a plane
in a cloudless sky
that annoying twitch in the right wrist
from decades of tiny insignificant movements

Do you take a sledgehammer to the arm?
that might do the trick, and more
ego loves a good bonfire
yet God’s grace burns better and brighter

Let that Self take over
let that heat rise
let your rotten fruit
burn to cinder.

It only hurts
as much as it wants to hurt
Feel me?
in the human sense
to be fully human you must embrace all of yourself
Billie Marie Jul 2020
ego

shall a tree
move its own limbs
to mimic God

the trap

What have we done?
Capitalism
has taken the place
of God as a sense
of safety - security - identity
in our minds.
Everything serves a purpose
until it gets out of control.
Time has an end.
Eternity is forever.
You are forever.
We are the ones
we have been searching for.
Billie Marie Jul 2020
How do I begin to pick up a pen?
How does a thought take me to Neverwhere?
They never can ever tell us the reality
of the realest questions
and, for some, it’s just fine.
The rest need more.
Something? Not a thing.
Someone? Quite plausibly.

Won’t let go the tap tapping
or drumming or the pokey poke.
It’s there. But, you keep your head in the game.
Cuz, ya know, what else is there around here?
Spiritual desert with no substantive food.
Like biting into a juicy hamburger
and tasting sawdust only.
Only if those ones
could just keep their blinders
in proper position,
proper place to look and stay
and march along on
in single file lives
to mark one existence onto the next.
Who though?
All for who?
Or, what?
Surely,
God needs no marching ants such as these?

They who can’t see
will surely deny the real world
you know is here
and call you a blind fool. Ha!
Jokes on jokes on yokes
of jellied stroke marks.
Get off my back and let me live
how I see. Not through your grimy,
filthy, streaked and yellowed seeing.
But with clear and pure eyes
you hadn’t touched yet.

What happens to those ones?
Where have they gone?
Looking, looking close and away
and all eyes sense
is dust mountains and cave dwellers
and absence of light.
Where are the true ones
filled with the light of the rising Sun?
Come home!
The place with the voice pointing out cracks
is singing a song so longing and sure
and cannot look away.
Not with COVID and all of this world
awakening to see what they -
the blind ones -
have done while the rest have been sleep.
Blinders melt in sunlight
and aren’t needed
by the light of the moon.
Here one finds the way by heart.
Here one sees for real
where we truly are. And then?
Ah! And then,
what else can one be except
free.
Jess Jul 2020
Claustrophobic
Cockroaches in corners
Concrete slabs
Clutching, cloaking, choking

Confined and
Constrained of a
Counterfeit life, I was the perfect
Charlatan of my encompassing separation.

Compelled into Self, oh yet
Cumbersome conditioning
Cultivating awareness within
Concentrated compression. I,

Cave!
Capitulation. Cannot withstand these
Currents of clouded
Compensation.

Comfortable in this
Chaos, as I've finally
Concluded: It comprises all of me.
Completely void

Contently
Containing nothing,
Clear from attached perceptions
Captivating Silence.

Come through me
Crawl into my
Caverns
Crash unto my shore

Caressing sensuality
       Continuously
Cascading        down, down, down
Composing my entirety.
Jul 11, 2020
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