We are all born
we all die one die.
Not just us,
but everything is out little universe
will fade away!
Why is there life,
to find out about it,
that is what life is about!

She saw words
           in stars
  And life had meaning
        When she
   followed her heart
Opened up for disaster
         to strike
But the matches of protection
     Were nothing alike

            She saw poetry
      in his eyes
And nothing ever looked
           as sweet as his
     laugh lines
 But the flow of the pen
          stopped short of madness
When she was born again
    
        She saw lyrics
   in every emotion
           And all the tears and smiles
      proved her devotion
But life had a way
          of sneaking up on her
    When she closed her eyes
            Before looking
        in every mirror

    She saw love and pain
all at the same time
        and she was hurt and happy
  By every one of his rhymes
          But nothing ever looked
     as beautiful as his
               piercing eyes
 But the flow of the pen
          stopped short of laughter
When she was *born again

It's only a paper-mache
moon, they say, too cool,
too full of interstellar space
to sympathize or stress about
lovers, kings and fools.

Or is it? According to Deutsch
the so-called final ignition
into outer space
is a product of man's meditations
moving, as if via gravitation

the magician to the other end
of the expanding universe. Sure,
in yr computer. Meanwhile, nursed
in a nursing home, mewling and peeing
as accurately predicted by Shakespeare

my old Marine, an ex-sailor, bitter
at life's ending, waited
too long to dispatch with dignity.
All alone, as in Corbiere's poem,
old soldiers are fated

to fight unnecessary wars
as we all are. Except for the fact that
every helium and hydrogen atom
ever born or made (whatever you believe)
has taken positions, passionate

and predetermined as republicans and dobermans
over eons and epochs. Thus
I don't think it behooves us much to care
if we're getting too little clean air or
bacteria are better adapted than us. This

obsession with identity, survival
a name and a leg of lamb is lame
even uninspired. The entire universe
including the professional baseball season
is canceled when yr dead. No blame.

If, as they say, the cells
of the body are replaced every seven
years, then I'm a new being
since my sons were newborn.
I have died and been reborn
neither better nor worse yet remembering
feeding them while dancing to Moment's
Notice, as they attended with new minds.

Having died, as such, I find I do not mind
quiet living with the purpose of a cell
unbound by minutes or moments
as men know them. There are seven
deadly sins, seven ways of remembering,
seven stages in which to have been or continue being.
None of them recur after one's reborn
and none are known to us from before we're born.

Of the two young people to whom I was born,
one has lately died. I do not so much mind.
Although I do not, he believed he'd be reborn
and who can say what happened to his soul or cells?
Perhaps in Christ we continue being,
or with some other deity, as the churches claim monotonously,
      momentously,
demonically and deviously. It seems about as relevant that
      seven
rhymes with heaven and rhyming's a mnemonic device (for
      remembering).

But remembering
what? To go to the daily discipline to which you were born?
I fought seven forest fires, took seven
lovers, my sons are seven, and my mind
is the sole owner and subsidiary of these memories and
      moments.
Unless I am to be reborn
they disappear with me. Masefield's poem continues to be
the most honest and chilling assessment of our souls' and cells'

disbursement. I can imagine stem cell
research may lead to a cure for dementia, loss of memory
about who you are and where you've been.
If one's not been born
this doesn't matter. But if you're being reborn,
in the sense of "he not busy being born is busy being reborn"
      (Dylan),
then it is best and most correct to consider your last moment
of a continuum with moments endless and entirely in your
      mind.

The mind is made of cells and moments, seven billion of them.
Remember to be born and reborn, early and often.

An old man remembers what he has been
yet the details are unimportant. Then
the outline disappears, and the meaning.

Good, I can die or go to work, be wise
or a ****. Rich or poor, the wind and rain
wear us away and it's o.k.

Ask what matters, that
question. Feeling the seasons, wearing a hat,
loving your woman, a good ****.

Children born. Two cells meet, multiply,
spiral into fetus. The mother is amazed:
an intelligence apart from herself.

The violent rainstorm kept me awake
although the lightning was still far away.
I lay in my bed and listened naked.

•
                                                               ­    I thought,


That I was born in this world,

Just to make all people know,




                                         That I just exist,

                      As simple as that.







                                                    ­                                 But I was wrong all along!



                                         'Cause I was born,



For you,

                      And to love you.




                           © Earl Jane
                             ♥ E.J.C.S.

In your embrace
A new sun rose
From the darkness
That kept us away.
I opened my eyes
And saw you,
The day was born.


-- Eleanor

Does hate stay entwined in the back of your mind?
Is one of a kind love permanently etched in time?
Could death be the end of an idea
Even if it's never born?
Is life given from the inside
Before it's given the chance to form?

Some things can never end,
All things in life deserve the chance to breathe.
An idea, a feeling, even the things you never see.

There is this old saying we all know, "to be or not to be"? Today, it seems, our society is obsessed with the idea of, "to see or not to see" with life's focus seemingly on nothing but video, internet, movies, television, 3rd generation, 8th generation, and 67th generation viewing capabilities.

Did I miss something, or has the world gone nuts? We have become masters at looking outside, externally. Yet, our generation has become enslaved to externalties (a false temporary escape) without the true direction of seeing ourselves internally. Try and see the "within." The real true internally and eternally you! Why? Because that's what this life is all about. Getting a handle on what and who we are and, more importantly, where we have to go! We can't always envision the "finish line", but we can at least try and see things for what they really are. Not what others, with their own interests in mind, Want to portray for us.

What we think are eyes are seeing is not what things necessarily are. The eyes of the wise man are in his head. Not on his head. In his head. He sees with the internal wisdom that he has from within. And the things we can't always understand, we'll just have to have the faith and fortitude to accept.

To Be What?

We are born, and we die. As human beings we go through many transitions throughout our lives. Some are more readily understandable than others. However, what makes the greatest impact on us is how we deal with these changes. We would all like to know what tomorrow might bring and to prepare for these eventualities. But as time has shown, this opportunity is not always an option. More often than not, we are forced to "go with the flow." Nevertheless, sound advice is to understand and accept that we can't always understand. This is something that we must know and comprehend.

2bborn

2bpositive

2bone

2bwithit

2bnone

2bornot­2b

2bwhatIC

2bwhatUR

2bfree

2bgifted

2blame

2bwarm

2bnice
­
2binlove

2bwithhate

2baninstigate

2sigh

2cry

2fly

2die

Th­e End

My friend

We can't always

Comprehend.......................................