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Rhys Hebbs Oct 2020
The smartphone is a portal
to progress and possessional obsession.
To behold all knowledge of the beauty of the human experience within the palm of your hand, yet to also behold;
brilliant tutorials from false idols on how not to live your life,
that captivate and obliterate all free-folks minds.
Ahh yes, freedom-the fickle *****.
monkey see
monkey do.
The smartphone has brought us closer than ever before
yet, when this little tablet of infinity shows you only what you want to see
(like a mirror to the soul)
pray you keep keen eyes upon your shadow
for even hugs can crush and families feud and through opinions and tribal captivations
we become more divided.
It has made us spend so much time looking down, that we no longer look up;
For it hurts to stare into the light.
Nobody looks into each others eyes anymore for the same reason.
Traveler Sep 2020
Shadows are the part of us
that refuse to grow.
We need to integrate them back
neatly in stow.
Traveler Tim

Ken Wilber
Maria Mitea Aug 2020

Once upon a time, on a Monday morning sun,
There was a blue wind in the west Rootabaga Country,
Blowing on a forest road, where the White Horse Girl
And the Blue Wind Boy met, holding space for unfurling
Mysteries, everything happening as it has to happen,

The White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy lived
In the same neighborhood, he told her all about the wind
Of all winds and how to listen to it when parallel roads meet,
And postal mailboxes wait for the time of delivery,
The early morning wind remembered,

It was a cold day, and mud road,
With the blue morning wind being the king of the forest,
Running on lovers hearts like on white horses,
Each holding a song, afraid of turning it on
And listening to it laud, dancing and singing it loud,
So afraid,
Instead, the blue greedy wind took over their feelings,
Wearing winter gloves in September,
Blowing away shoulder stiffness,
Ready to fight with the invisible enemy,
It gave him airs of mystery in disguise,
He loved the early morning wind, and
The White Horse Girl loved him,


Morning came, he arrived with his song written and music saved on notes
ready to be shared. I was afraid, and my weak heart send
him back home to drop it off, and I prayed;

“Please, God, please, help him change his mind and not come back.
Look how windy’s outside. This is not a nice day for a romantic walk.
This strong wind has no mercy, It will break my heart.”
That was my first voice, while the second voice took the lead;
“ Oh, God give him the strength not change his mind,
Take everything and everyone out of his way,
Make his steps fast and light, like feathers on the sky,
Bring him back on the white horse,
He is my Blue Wind Boy.
It can be windy, and it can rain hard,  
There won’t be another day.”

The dog barked without thinking,
I opened the back door and walked through the blue wind,
And saw him returning, with a heroic look on his face,
Light steps. “ He is very brave. He is your hero “
My friendly voice whispering, while the scolding one;
“There isn’t any place left for thinking.
You are weak and lost if you let his eyes meet yours.
No one can save you. Don’t rely on your dog. ”

I feel how waves of warmth traveled across my body
Imploring me, ”lift up your gaze from the ground,”
When cold waves shrink my head pushing down
The fighting in my heart, I feel leaning into someone, a wall or a tree,
Forest trees kept looking at me, and moving their branches;
Come, darling, come, come ...


It was cold, and wet, on that forest road.
We walked side by side searching carefully
For words that haven’t been invented,
The wind was the king playing with my skirt,
Me, holding it tight, both hands wrapped on my legs,
Urging to stay steel and not listen to what I feel;
Love in disguise lures my heart.
I wished that I had another two pairs of arms,
Holding the blouse when the dramatic king
Pulled out the button. I kept him busy with talking,
About how beautiful it was living in the forest.

Spirits were getting high from walking side by side
Up elephant hill, waiting to swallow our desire.
I showed him my sacred space, where the sun touched my face
When I prayed every day. Lovers were coming in secret at night,
Up elephant hill, and burned the fire of love.
He looked at the remnant ashes “ some lovers met here last night ...”
While I too looked at the aches and answered, “ anything could be possible.”

On the right side wild ducks starting to gossip,
In the little pond frogs quaking, letting us know
They were watching every step and listening to every sound,
“ It is a windy day today, and cold.”
My voice softened while moving deeper inside, hiding behind a somber look.
I invited my dark memories of human pain; help me take down the elation.
Despite all my prayers,


The morning was magic in many ways.
I never felt surrendered by so mush readiness,
The singing of the birds was sharper than the blue wind,
The dances of the leaves cheerleading in the air,
Nature was ready for the spectacle to begin,
It was intimidating; leaves had eyes,
Flowers started talking with each other,
My feelings were greedy like squirrels eating now
And storing for later, for the winter, and any bad weather;
My heart was hungry like a wolf, wishful devouring the prey.

I could feel he was looking at me,
I could hear his long face saying,
“I dream of playing with your hair.”
The wind was getting mad, and fearless.
Like a forest fighter, he was ready to protect the garden
And destroy the misbehaving wind caressing my hair.
He pulled harder those gloves in,  


Shortly the rain came putting on us a calm shy breeze,
I was prepared for a rainy day, he was ready for the winter snow,
I feel a boothole, on the left side,
“Boothole” was the word I learned from him,
I was happy when he asked, “ is your foot wet.” So naive,
With every careful step, we take time, holding on every breath
Soon the sun smiled again at the end of the road,
No trees standing on our way, me and he,
Without words waiting on the lips,
With sudden humility soft grass flattened on the ground,
When the earth was running high, and hearts flew into the clouds, he Implored; “Look into my eyes?!” the thunderlight starting
A warm rain walking us back at the house.


Faster steps take us, down the hill daffodils open eyes,
When passing by the little pond, the ducks quacked in disappointment,
“What a waste of time.”
“Come I’ll show you where ducks live, swim,
Make love, and quack all day long”
We entered the bright forest meadow, little pond waiting for us,
Naive delight, he like a thief, wrapped his arms around me,
Stealing a kiss, I run away, he comes, tears come,
The blue wind grows furious and strong,
He pulled out his gloves, we hold hands, tears come
In our eyes, tears fall on his burned hand when a child,
We touch our hands, our hands kissed in the rain,
Our hands kissed in the rain, and the rain kissed back our hands;

He can’t burn twice,
I didn't want to burn,
I knew it's my turn,
I did not want to burn,

“I am cold, Let's go inside the house, I’ll make a tea”
I felt for mundane noise and no more mystery,

We walked quite, and soon entered the house that was waiting
for the two lost kids returning from “where the white horses come from
and where the blue winds begin.” The home was friendly and warm,
embracing the blue morning wind, the song, and the kiss of the two lost kids …

“You have a beautifully clean house, Yes, I do”,
Me holding tight on stainless steel ***,
He leaned his back on the kitchen wood, crossing arms
Ready for an adult conversation,
I busy around as if I can’t find the sugar,
I think, if I poured too much water, I found the honey,
It felt as if boiling took forever,

We sat at the table,
Two cups of tea and the white table cloth looking at me,
Looking at him, taking turns listening to words coming slow,
Carefully not disturbing the shinning floor, me crossing my feet
Under my seat, sitting together, and talking to each other he said;

“That's where the blue winds begin,
It would take years and years to ride them on the blue waters”
She listened and said; “ I See! The white horses also come from far away. So far away, farther than the blue waters and the blue sky.”


Everything happened as it had to happen,
The early morning wind believed and remembered,
Where the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy met
and lived as neighbors, he told her all about the early morning wind,
and the night sky wind, and the wind of the dusk between,
the wind that asked him questions and told him to wait.

The house walls interrupted the conversation;
“ It is late, he has to go home”
He looked into my eyes and asked, "run away with me."
“It is late, you have to go” our heavy bodies stand up
Slow from the table and the cups implored me to go,  
I opened the back door, the strong wind was taking him,
The door closed fast, I burst into crying squeezing my knees
in tears of despair. I know this morning has no return.
I see it all,


I received so many messages the day before
The night before, and the morning before,
Even more, signs of delusion appearing at every corner;
The spirits were hiding into the forest,
Sunshine dance and every smiling flower,
Witnessing our first meeting on the blue loonies lake,
Where loons perpetuate their offsprings every new spring.
We were not the only one darling,
Was this nature’s complot or spirits desire
For loons to meet and dance in the blue wind fire
And sing their song of calling love on the blue waters,
Sun shining so bright fooling us into delude,
Despair running on white horses,

I run outside on the forest road, seeing his back and heavy walk slowing
down the blue wind, “I want to go with him where the blue winds begin,
and where the white horses come from.”
The mailbox moves and gives me the letter, I read;

“ To My sweetheart,
You have to wait now for the night sky blue wind, and the blue wind in the dusk, when it is neither night nor day. They will understand. Keep your heart for us while I am gone.With love the Blue Wind Boy”

It's been a while since the White Horse Girl has been waiting for the Night Sky Blue Wind and the blue wind in the dusk to come, ... It came last night

(Va Continue)
Inspired from real life and Rootabaga Stories By
Carl Sandburg
The White Horse Girl. and
The Blue Wind Boy.
I never got the chance
To say thank you
Or meet you before
You passed

Yet so strong is the bond
I feel to you
A list could never
Capture all

The ways you touch me now
I saw ads when
I was a younger
Those long legs

A dripping wet actress
Bites into you
With blue ecstatic
Eyes saying

They've never had better
Than you before
How could I not fall
To your spell

But we both grew older
And I still do...
We learned that magic
Can be bad

Not all incantations
Are worth making
Many do more harm
Than do good

And now from the grave you
Watch your baby
Change, adapt, thrive with
In new light

Beyond Famous Star is
A good burger
But it is also
So much more
I never got the chance
To say thank you
Or meet you before
You passed

Yet so strong is the bond
I feel to you
A list could never
Capture all

The ways you touch me now
I saw ads when
I was a younger
Those long legs

A dripping wet actress
Bites into you
With blue ecstatic
Eyes saying

They've never had better
Than you before
How could I not fall
To your spell

But we both grew older
And I still do...
We learned that magic
Can be bad

Not all incantations
Are worth making
Many do more harm
Than do good

And now from the grave you
Watch your baby
Change, adapt, thrive with
In new light

Beyond Famous Star is
A good burger
But it is also
So much more
Carl's Jr.
Company CEO Andrew Puzder defended the Paris Hilton ad campaign in Entrepreneur magazine, saying, "I like our ads. I like beautiful women eating burgers in bikinis. I think it's very American."
In the years before his death in 2008, Carl Karcher objected to the sexualized nature of the company's advertising, and was reported "just heartbroken" that a company he founded on Christian principles has taken such an an amoral act.
Thanks Wikipedia
Smoke Scribe Sep 2017
Dear Mr. Carl Sandburg,

Once, you wrote:

"The lucid and endless wrinkles"
Draw in, lapse and withdraw.
Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles
Wash on the floor of the beach."

Having observed often, the exact phenomenon you reference
in the words above, the undulating action upon a sand white beach, patient waiting the greetings of the all-day wavelets, which reminded you, which reminded me, of the lucid and endless wrinkles sea worn upon our faces, it is my happy duty incumbent to inform your spirit, that we have yet in this the 21st century, to invent, a machine that does it better than you man, hu-man, connecting our aged faces to the timeless stroking of the Earth by the water that sustains life.

Yours truly,

Mr. Smoke Scribe
S Fletcher Nov 2016
With the Voyager’s wind at our back,
hear me say: HALLELUJAH!
It’s right here—all the love that ever was—
on a pale blue dot, suspended in a sunbeam.
(Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya.)
Here. Home. The true and only one.
Half a pixel in a wash of darkened gray.
Dark like the soil of land weeping life.
Dark like grief. Dark like the space between
fires on a cold and a broken night.
Hear me say: HALLELUJAH!
You have soil under your nails, and
a fire in your soul. Carry it steadfast,
and with caution. Honor its burn.
Bow not to a darkness that merely seems strong.
You are stronger. You, plus me. And yours.
And mine. And theirs. And theirs.
(I used to live alone before I knew ya.)
Like fruits and the trees, we cry when clawed.
Our awe. Our agony. Our awakening.
Hear us say: HALLELUJAH!
Alienpoet Sep 2016
I buried my shadow in a concrete grave
He came back to haunt me
I could not deal with the dark of night
But all of my light hid in the gloom
so my shadow re-entered the room
All the things I buried with him began to show
The blackest of times
So with him I entered a truce
That I would acknowledge him
But I said to him I'd never let him wholly loose...
Bryan Amerila Jun 2016
As the moth flexes its wings,
the flower blooms,
the ants pause,

in June,
the rain sings
for birds on our roof,
Laughter jumps from wall to wall.
for Carl, my nephew, on his 1st birthday
Sizable stocky lenses
Wild wavy intense hair
Worn blue apparel

A booth set for one
For him alone

Drink the campaign
Eat the pumpkin cheesecake

A wordless celebration
Interrupted by a quiet smile

Take in the loud sound
From all but you around

Breath in
and out

Before she comes back
Quietly pay in cash

Leave them all with nothing
Nothing but a glimpse
A glimpse of your name
To the stranger sitting alone
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