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Yes, it’s true:
“The music don’t feel like it did
when I felt it with you.”

You were another love.
It was so good.
Before the time ran up.

Wanting to kiss you.
to feel alright.

Flying high with stars in our eyes.
Sitting on a sofa cloud
all throughout the night.

the night
would never end.

I didn’t want to tell lies.
I just wanted more time,
with you, my friend.

I didn’t want to be alone.
I filled my vacancy
coming to your home.

at your doorstep
with an invitation.

Not waiting a minute
to reflect on

Because I was flying high.
Giving my heart
to where it didn’t belong.

in every song.

Footsteps started fires
as we danced
in the dark.

On your shoulder
I left
my heart.

I let it run around
and around
in my head.

Beating that horse
long after
it was dead.


Confusing signals.

I crashed
and my fire for you
burned me down.

I came back down
and found my love
on the ground.

Now my tears
are used up.
Trying to fall from you.

Was it all in my mind?
Did I run away to Mars?
Or was it written in the stars?

Because I’m still in love
with that lost time.
And now there’s someone new.

But this will always be true:
The music sounds better
with you.
If a playlist could tell a story.
Hollie 3d
Gentle soft uncoordinated lips
Through all seasons
You call upon me
To be kind sweet and mean
When I am gone
Will you still call for me
Or will you share all of you
To someone new
And call on her
The Kimbeaux May 25
Saying "Hi" and staying high.
Toeing the line.
Locking eyes.
Feeling fine.
Singing lyrics with meanings.
Dancing around
Feelings of desperation -
a mental vacation.
Swaying to vibrations -
the musical variation.
Smiling seriously.
Losing to gravity.
Gaining clarity.
Collecting disparity.
Ignoring fidelity.
Accepting reality.
Then finally,
my experience
irinia Mar 28
this morning when I opened my eyes
the light was breathing the window had a pulse
as if I was a body with unmystified senses
as if I could see deeper in everything that surrounds me
perhaps a remembrance of how
difficult it was for me to be in the world
with an immense sensitivity to the slightest movement of life around me,
how wondeful to attune to the wind, the leaves, the cacophony of beautiful words and deeds, the harmony in the blinking of strangers, the sway of steps on the streets, the collapse of the waveforms of dreams that we called reality
how hard to have a mind that might understand eventually that truth is complicated or not for every creature on the walks of life.
my essence is vulnerability my strenghts is my weakness for my foolishness there is no cure
don't have to look in the mirror to recognize
my human face, your human face, their faces
late in the night when I close my eyes I see only people, the beauty of the world, the cosmos created through pain, how
the morning of the day I was born was there, and everything was already breathing before me and everything will be still spinning its mystery when this excess of life will rob a last breath from me. I know I will be watching the breath of light, how everything gets illuminated when the time is ripe
Zywa Mar 22
Dozing, I vibrate

along with the world outside --

A leaf in the wind.
Collection "Between where"
Zywa Mar 21
All the elements that we arrange
in the Periodic Table, the very first
bacteria and also we humans
are creators of the universe

In time and space we transform
the energy and co-write
the imperishable facts
on the edges of black holes

That information already existed
as Creator
giving it space and time
with a big bang

It's inconceivably
and inseparably both
energy and information
are aspects of each other

My mind doesn't get that
Even if in deep meditation
my consciousness unites
with all that exists, I am ignorant
The "Akashic Records", a theosophical concept of Charles Leadbeater and Alice Bailey, later used by Rudolf Steiner, and based on the book "The Secret Doctrine: The Synthesis of Science, Religion and Philosophy" on cosmogenesis (1888) by Helena Blavatsky

Cosmology in the study "On the Origin of Time: Stephen Hawking's Final Theory" (2023, Thomas Hertog)

See also poem 1069. Quiet beholding (February 23rd, 2017), the translation of 0522. Stille aanschouwing (November 29th, 2015)

Samadhi: mindless absorption in Being

Collection "Ifless"
Owen Cafe Mar 13
It's funny when you feel like you're holding hands but you know your arms would wrap the world to do so.

When your kissing without touching lips, you feel the warmth when the only thing next to you is a memory.

It’s funny how I melt in your eyes that I can't see and run my fingers through your hair if only the resemblance of the wind that surrounds you.

It's funny that it feels so ineffably together apart.

Sometimes the together aparts just to light flame so you know it's there. Not a lighthouse or a forest fire, not a comet or a firework.

Something close. Something you hold and nurture. Something that’s right next to you, even though you can't touch it… not fully.

Like a candle and wine.

Something I can’t pull my eyes from. Something that isn’t more than it needs to be and covers me in goosebumps like the first time we kissed.

It's funny how you can fall from such a distance that you never even left your home.
The ever always ended continue
wes parham Feb 25
If I wanted to take a little time,
If I wanted to share my inner mind,
If someone said it had to rhyme,
I got no time for that ****…

Paint for me, in your chosen words,
The lines are branches; the letters, birds.
Sing to me songs sublime; absurd,
Just don’t tell me it has to rhyme…

Settle the bitter, ancient scores,
Make the audience seek for more,
Make the shoes I stand in yours,
Do not make me repeat myself…

Write me a letter, I long to hear,
Your poet’s voice in my mental ear,
Till the world does shed a collective tear,

I think I’ve made myself perfectly-  uh…

Do it!  It’s fun.  Come on, everybody else is writing poems, you know you wanna, how about just one stanza, it could be free verse, rules? there aren’t any, that’s what’s so liberating, so democratizing about poetry, bring it, bring it, bring it, show me what you got…!
Many moons ago
With sips of exotic coffee
And a fluid conversation
With a profound beauty
Laying next to her
Drowning into her eyes
With ambience so tranquil
Celebrating gravity of being
With emotive senses
And precise words

With last sip
Finally he proposed her

"Come live in my heart"
"And stay musing"
"And let me embrace you"
"At soul level"
"Like a poetry"

Looking into his eyes
With next sip
She replied

"You're welcome"
"With a vibe like that"
"You have touched my trust"
"I want to read you"
"In more ways, than one"
"Like a poetry"
Genre: Almost Romantic
Theme_ Validation
Zywa Jan 3
We danced to a new year
in the utopia of the music
and the Golden Oldie
songs of love, longing
and sorrow that live
in our lungs

and emerge unpredictably
all of a sudden from the depths
of our breath
caressing or storming full
of experiences that make us
feel who we are

and what it's all about, seize
the eternity of our lives
in the stream of our breath
which is also the breath of others
while we are completely
engrossed in our presence
Utopia: the word whose meaning lies midway between "not-existent place/society" and "good place / happy society"

Carpe diem = Seize the day (Horace, 23 BC)

Carpe aeternitatem in momento = Seize eternity in the moment (Ernst Bloch, 1954-1959, in: "Das Prinzip Hoffnung" / "The principle of hope")

Collection "The drama"
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