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Chad Young Dec 2020
O celestial mountain, let me climb the stairs of patience
that the immortal front may be birthed anew.
Cover thyself with the robe
of the Ancient Root,
and with the Hood of the Worlds,
that you may hearken to the
winds of mystery
and the tremors of the stock of oneness.
Suffer time
to pass thee by
that the eternal sun
may shine upon thee.
Let the Mother of Eternity
give thee nourishment
at the seat
of powerlessness.
silent meditation
Traveler Dec 2020
Is the spirit
A part of conscientiousness
or is conscientiousness
A part of the spirit?
Is will deceived
Or do we steer it?

Death can hardly
Be part of life
How can a part
Of life be dead?
If eternity continues
At our last breath
How can I
When nothing’s left?

I’m sure you know
Your words are many
Dissecting the dictionary
From end to beginning
But...
Mom let you know the anger of dad
Stay out of his way and never be bad
Questions are futile
Eat your greens
The answer is simply life is a dream.
There’s no explanation
Only description.

Make no mistake we are self deceived

Traveler Tim

Perhaps we signed into some type of contract and we’re here to help this world evolve
And you can’t die until you do your part

If my last existence was a micro
Perhaps my next existence will be a solar system
Perhaps in some future point I will be the all
Perhaps
Gabrielle Dec 2020
My mind is a forest
Of vast sweeping pine
A continent of conifers
In this head of mine

Contemplation arrives as thin soapy clouds
Silent rivers trickle feeling
In the bush, trails of thought
Go for miles freewheeling

There are no people in these silent woods
No creature makes a sound
This is where I can be safe
In a place I can't be found
This poem is about contemplation and thought.
Demons Dec 2020
Oh, the joyous day of our first breath.

Oh, the joyous day of our freedom.

Oh, the joyous day of our first day of understanding.

Oh, the joyous day of our first dreams.

Oh, the saddened day of our first heartbreak.

Oh, the saddened day of our first contemplation.

Oh, the saddened day of our first suffocation.

Oh, the saddened day of our first bad habits.

Oh, the saddened day of our last breath.

Now read it from bottom to top.
Traveler Nov 2020
If it feels good do it again
In repetitive continuum

Take the mind for a ride
We are mechanically sound
The great and powerful
imagination
is hardly earthbound

In the freedom of subjectivity
emptiness
and
nothingness
can hardly exist

Traveling the synapses
Is a very blissful trip!
Traveler Tim

The empty boat is flooded with moonlight
Chad Young Nov 2020
It is the capacity only to act for myself.
It is the capacity neither of self-subsistence nor without
self-reliance.
It is neither the epitome of wisdom, nor the epitome of
ignorance.
It is not the epitome of beauty nor the epitome of
ugliness.

Lack doesn't make for worry and excellences
are counted as special gifts of life.
Like a ****** pressed between my fingers is my soul
in God's Presence.
Thus, do I recognize my karma as not the
best, but not the worst.

It is surrounded by pretty, but not the equisite.
It is surrounded by clutter and dirt, but
not grotesque filth.
It is as a middle ground from which any quality
would cease the ground's existence.
It is not mommy or daddy, not child and not adult.
It is not old nor young.
It is not sun nor moon, but star.
It is not perfection, but comfortable imperfection.
It is not as fair as pastel, nor as gaudy as neon.
It is not known, but not unknown.
It is not host of a soul, yet does not exclude
any soul.
It does not grasp, nor release.

"Why is your skin orange?"
It is joking about vanity.
It is not slack, nor is it strong effort.
It is not wickedness, nor is it judgement.
It is not righteousness, nor is it evil.
It is not astray, nor is it unastray.
It is not a party, nor is it loneliness.
It is the monk of reality.
It pretends not to harness all of my memories.
Nor does it pretend not to conjure memories.
It is not shadow, nor light.
It is the plastic-self, unable to be immortal,
and unable to abide mortally.
It is the spirit of self, yet the spirit of others.
It is not empty, nor full.
It is construction of the simple.
It is construction of the difficult.
It is cleaning the toilet.
It aligns with no group, nor does
it not exist in any group.
It is folly through shallowness.
It is wisdom from shallowness.
It is not pure, nor does it lack
purity.
It is not popular, nor does it fail to get attention.
It is desire, not not sin.
It is her, but not Her.
It is resurrection, but not life nor death.
It is not heard, nor listened.
It is not unhealthy, nor is it strong.

boyhood crushes.

It is not power, nor is it incapacity.
It is not opinionated, nor is it opinionless.
It is not blood, nor is it light.
It is not long, nor short.
It is not curved, nor straight.
It is not solid nor gas.
It is not water nor is it not a liquid.
It is not salt nor is it not saline.
It is not belt, nor backpack.
It is not car nor home.
It is not bed nor is it not rest.
It is not gold nor bread.
It is not giving nor hoarding.
It is not meat but it is cheese.
It is not poor, nor rich.
It is not career nor retirement.
It is not fair, nor unfair.
It is holy, but not pure.
It is not heresy, nor help.
It is not metro nor country.
It is not the center nor is it the side.
It is not age nor mind.
It is not body nor heart.
It is not skin nor bone.
It is not brief nor long.
It is not sink nor swim.
It is not lesson nor tale.
It is not story nor biography.
It is not virtue nor vice.
It is not a lie nor a truth.
It is not shallow nor deep.
It is not structure nor process.

Samadhi.
Laying in bed.
Faron Hymn Yang Nov 2020
i still do not know
whether i am a void of feelings
or just a child who shut the door to his pain.
Kenneth Gray Nov 2020
Hello suicide!
Its been awhile
Remember me?
Yer ol' buddy Kyle?
I need your assistance
To escape from this trial
Forgive me friend
If I'm unable to smile

Ah, yes! Kyle, of course!
Forgive me bud
If my voice does sound hoarse

I've been hanging around
Don't you see?
I'm glad you've swung by
To console in me
For my first recommendation
Is hanging
Yes, in fact
This is my plea
Might I suggest a rafter
Or perhaps a nice tree?
This ones on the house
Yeah, this one is free

Ah, yes! A hanging
Indeed!
But if I were to do that
A rope I would need
Not only that
But I could be rescued
And freed
Do you have another?
Please forgive me suicide
Forgive me for my greed
What else can I do?
Please consider my plead!

Ah, yes! I can do one more
But I'm growing tired and weak
And my neck is still sore

Take a handful of pills
And overdose
This I know you've tried
And you came really close
But you can't be easily rescued
And you don't need a rope
Do it! Destroy your dreams!
And trample your hopes!

Excellent! This one sounds great
For sure!
I do have a decease
And pills might be the cure
But what if I live
What if my body endures?
But this option has potential
And it has great allure
I'll consider this option
To you, I ensure

Well, well, well!
Look what we have here!
Looks like I'm successful
As if a death is near
Theree no need to panic
Theres no need to fear
However, I do need payment
So start paying in tears!
Now RIP my good friend
Its been fun mate, cheers!
I've dealt with suicidal thoughts alot in my life. So this is kind of like the dialogue I have with it. As if we know each other and were friends.
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