Bianca 1d

you're like a babycry
buried in a corn field
when the soul of our sun
beats under your hat
craving for a drought
and you start to sink deeper
inside your own body
just like I try to hide out
in the scarf of the wind -
it's looking for me
and I'm looking for you
right, right under your hat
as if I were a weak shadow
that asks for solace
under the bloody sunset -
hot.

Dig your nails into my skin and pull apart my flesh
Pick me into pieces and shred my every breath
Beat my blood like morning eggs and take your rightful pound
Spin my head and shake my legs but I won't make a sound

  : Janet E Steele

And what is the body? And what is a house?

The body is home to pain,
there was a mouth that held back a scream
there are wounds that show the face of blood

The body is home to the spirit of layover,
and there he felt at home, listening to the song
time, clock & heart rippled


And what is a house? And what is the body?

The house is an area where there is none
the shadow of the body, in a corner
gramophone placed & prayer sent to far.

Home is where you come back
from a small meeting, and there you are
happy, because you have time to say love.

we are all but shells,
wash away we will when the
tides come rushing in.

You have eyes like needles,
pulling me together
into something cohesive,
something beautiful.
Soft silk draping from my arms,
cotton dreams, lavender goodbyes.
Canvas memories
written across my eyes
with the sound of sorrow weaving
designs into my skin,
let me in
let me in.
Feel the softness beneath your hands
as you fix my broken bones
with polyester thread,
look at me with your piercing
gaze and repair my wounded soul.
Create a work of art,
literature, mastery,
with the tide of your lips.
Stitches, stitches,
skin on skin.
Now I am changed,
reel me in
reel me in.

~~ Scopophobia, the fear of being stared at. ~~

Whatever one places their attention on will come to them
Therefore I say to focus on life and you shall have it
The mind can see one aspect at any given moment

The given moment can be populated with only one thought or intention
That which is NOW can only have one inhabitant, purpose, and meaning
That which is NOW is all which is

There can be no separation or distance between one time and another, just what exists here
The past is populated with dead images which cannot persist
Only with our attention can they come forth

So it is attention, I tell you, which must be controlled
Not by the swift hand but by the idle fisherman
Who allows his thoughts to drift from cloud to cloud

Not placing any importance on the meaning of one from the next
Or the worries of the day
Or what he has caught
Or what rests in his basket

But only that he may rest

And if someone should upset his rest he will continue
For he is a law unto himself
And his demeanor is based on his determination
And his determination his demeanor

The man who understands this
Will never worry
For worry is the source of worry
And a never-ending cycle of desperation

The man who seeks to avoid this
Should forget it exists

Because to those who forget
It does not.

A weeping heart
Mended by the realization
That to be open is to be free
And to be free is to be infinite

Cry not but turn to that
Which is above emotion, or mind
The VARDAN is the totality
And all comes from one source

All is truth
All is love
Do not believe the lie of negativity
Break the illusion and see
Your chains are your own doing

Your freedom is your determination
Seek HURAY and all will be revealed
IT is above all, above time and cares not
But expresses the deepest sympathies

For the Soul that is misguided
From her own Kingdom
To claim the right hand side of the Father
One must step beyond religion

And stare truth with one eye from afar
Close, effervescent and obliquely
Ever looking aside and forward
A dancing dervish in mind, power, body, spirit

To unify yourself
Realize what you are
You are above the body, but still an inhabitant

Rejoice for your vessel is as it should be
Seek now beyond and use it as an anchor

Feet on Earth and Soul with God

BB 3d

My body is a temple,
Where pain bows to worship,
My soul is a haven,
Where suffering and hate reside,
My arms are a canvas,
Where a razor slices deep,
My mind is a river,
Where darkness and confusion flow,
My heart is a fountain,
Where wishes are made and forgotten,
My eyes are a pool,
Where longing and sadness wade,
My life is a memory,
Where forgetting is its greatest gift.

Gold thread like silk, or the wool of a golden lamb
The rumble and baa of a sheep's humble cry
Morning rises as the shepherd walks
Leading the flock to still, idyllic waters
As they drink they sip in peace
The VARDAN current, all but many
Satisfied by the river flow
Still but moving, reaching all

A H S 4d

I spend my nights
Dreaming of you

I wonder if you
Think of me too

Lying in bed
Staring at the ceiling

Imagining your
Curves in the
Paintwork

I hear your name
And tense up

My heart beat
Rising uncontrollably

Will they see through
Me

Will they see my
Hot cheeks

My avoiding
Eyes

And fidgeting
Body

My thoughts
Are uncontrollable

Everyday flooding in
But never leaving.

Next page