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wes parham Nov 2023
To some Holy Land, now, gather ye,
There, to spend the night in Gethsemane.
Entreat with the father or maybe the son,
Perhaps they can tell you when a war is won.

For another parent, another child,
Their once ancestral home defiled.
Did it help, the blood you spilled?
Your mark of Cain; your curse fulfilled?

Run to your God and pretend he hears,
Believe in lies and dark new fears,
Deny to others their right to live…
We saw what you did and will not forgive.

Where two or more are gathered,
The result is anyone’s game.
But make it many thousands,
And often it is just a shame,
How Gods remain suspiciously quiet,
When the killing is in their name.
I don’t want this to come across as an indictment of religion.  I learned useful lessons in childhood, attending with my family. This piece is to do with those persons who would pervert a faith for their own gain of power or wealth at the expense of their fellow man.  All while hiding behind the pretense of their fairy tales.

Early on, I began to adopt a certain personal axiom when dealing with the faithful.  The moment they claim to know the word or the will of God, do not trust them.  Anyone doing so is a manipulator at worst and deluded at best.
George Krokos Nov 2023
Man is still very much like an animal though he has a human form
and continues to evolve with the passage of time which is the norm.
He has arrived with the impressions that are of the lower creation
to erase them from his psyche as he moves up to a higher station.
The various races of people in the world give an indication of this
by the way they live and eat or means of survival we can't dismiss.

There's also the observation that some people look like animals
perhaps due to a strong relationship, in past lives, to those in stalls;
a few similarities can be seen in the behaviour and existence
of some people to creatures of a lower form with consistence.
It's likely here that a human soul in the reincarnating phase
is still shedding impressions according to this theory we praise.

However, nature's provided man with ways of progressing higher
developing and cultivating his mind and intelligence to go further.
By overcoming those obstacles which hold him down to the earth
he's able to rise above his lowly origins that come with his birth.
This creative evolutionary push seems to have favored certain people
for we only have to look around in the world regardless of any steeple.

There's also the little known factor of the ages which the earth goes through,
together with the rest of the solar system, that are not obvious to view.
For the earth and the rest of the planets revolve around the sun we know
but what does the sun together with all the planets revolve around and go?
Science hasn't yet found out apart from the center of our milky way galaxy
which is what everything else in it happens to do as well for it's a guarantee.

These ages numbering four last for about twenty four thousand years
as the sun revolves around something greater than itself and so bears
the weight of responsibility for what goes on within its own domain
much like the seasons of the year that on the earth we know to sustain.
For as the sun moves closer* to its center of orbit there's a gradual change
that goes on within the mind of man and his environment of a huge range.

The rise and fall of all those past civilizations is a good indication of this
with the current advancement in technology we're also unable to dismiss.
For we're all going through an acceleration in the acquisition of knowledge
that's being revealed as we move into the present age with all our baggage.
And until we reach the saturation point that may just be a long way off yet
we'll continue to evolve and find things out that hopefully we won't regret.
Notes: *or further away from.
Written Dec'22. This could be one of the most challenging philosophical poems anyone may read. I sincerely hope that no one is offended but the subject matter is not meant to be racist as we're all in the same boat of existence in one way or another moving forward with an evolutionary push. As far as the mention of any Ages that the Earth passes through I've written another poem titled: 'The Mystery of the Four Ages' which explains a little more about these 'Ages' and has also been posted on HP for some time. My main objective is to inform about things that I've found out about and believe to be true unless proven wrong for this is part of the push that we're all going through to find out about the truth of our existence and which fascinates me.
wes parham Jul 2023
We assembled a modest telescope,
To find what sights there were  to see.
I stared, transfixed, at the moon and stars,
In the driveway with all of my family.

I know exactly where I stood,
The moment I would find,
The infinite nature of time and space,
And how it all unwinds.

I asked about the size of the moon,
The distance of its arcing track.
I asked about the space beyond,
The nothing in the black.

I asked my family how big it is.
I asked if anyone knows,
The moon, the stars, and all of it.
I asked how far it goes.

“My son, our curious little one…”,
My parents said to me,
“It has no end”, “It just keeps going”,
“Outward, eternally”.

I stared up into a southern sky,
Ominous, dark as the sea.
And I swear, at that moment,
Looking up,
Something departed from me.

            It flew into the dark of space,
And hasn’t slowed in all this time,
       As far and as fast as information can.
                        The speed of light, I hear…
Which is not so much a speed…
          Hitched, perhaps, to the Voyager probe…
   By these new thoughts inside of my head.
                             But I digress.

This thing  began a journey that,
Must bring it face to face,
With everything that ever was,
Every corner of time and space.
Everything that is yet to come,
Everything that has ever been.
Repeating every history,
It’s trek would never end.

That thought has always stayed with me.
It anchors me, somehow.
A line cast from a sailing ship,
Where I stand upon the bow.
In the oblivion of the infinite,
It grounds me to the “now”.
I could have been eight or nine, but I do remember exactly where I was when this happened and it really was a mix of emotions to learn that the universe is probably _infinite_.  I was both terrified and exhilarated; humbled and hugely empowered, all at once.  I loved learning more about the cosmos and still feel the same rush to learn new stories from above.  
33.60455° N, 83.97471° W
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Every facet within what you’re about to create
blooms from your consciousness, your subconsciousness
your ego, your mind, your heart

But where are those elements planted?
Where are they rooted?

They are rooted within:

your ethnocentric illusions
your lived reality
your privilege, your pleasure, your pain
your abilities, your disabilities
your socioeconomic status: have and/or havenot
your fluency, your empathy, your sense of humour
your vices and your storytelling devices

Now we've got some roots, what are we going to grow?
Let’s begin by observing, using our senses
Maybe, let’s use our eyes
Consider, the reality of how we see and sense the world
Is different for each and every one of us

Everything is tempered by the lens we use
Which is informed through the roots of our synapses
Which empirically flow from the subjective ground
On which we stand

And what does this have to do with poetry?
What you describe in your poem,
Is an interpretation of what you see (and feel)

Interesting poetry comes when
there is exploring to do
It is a poet’s imperative to
Explore the edges
Out past the boundaries of the visual and audible spectrum

If we were fish poet’s
Would we write poetry about water?

I like to toy with my teenagers on occasion
So I asked my son the other day, what his worldview was?
And I have been enjoying the vacuous silence ever since
To be fair, I have been asking myself the same question for many years
And this might have been the inciting incident leading me to storytelling

As we began this journey together, it was stated that
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Can you describe your context?

Let me attempt to describe mine:

Here I am on the stage in this ocean of air
At the Owl Acoustic Lounge
On a Wednesday night in May
Popping air with rhythm, nuance, and a certain je ne ce quoi

Although this poem is not objectively true
Let me attempt to share that
this poem blooms from my developing cosmology
From the overtures of my Overself;
from the undercurrents of the Monomyth,
From my ***** and through my groans of intercession
This poem blooms from oblivion
Threading through philosophy, to worldview, and into a budding cosmology

For myself:
Worldview fell away when I found cosmology while reconnecting with the night sky
That night sky took me places while grounding me concurrently in inner spaces
Where locating self flows into meta-cognitive health,
Well ... that is something to write about
Preparing for Shakaat Artist-in-Residency. Performed at the Owl Acoustic Lounge on May 24, 2023.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
In the beginning the sky was cold butter,
hard and riddled with kernels of corn,
which, as the world heated, popped:
And thus the clouds were born.
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
Everyone's been talking about how
the universe will either expand
indefinite cold star death
or collapse and then repeat itself

meanwhile i'm a slave proper
in every sense of the word physical
bound to the elements hunger
a criminal for speaking my thoughts aloud

a loud or a soft noise unheard
unseen and unknown and unthinkable
still I would try to define it
humanity, always effing the ineffable

i'm one and apart and the same all the same
the universe cloaked in name after name
every man and woman a star
in their own drama melodrama how dramatic

i am in a word addict
again you might say i'm back at it
rhyming with rhythm but static
sense or nonsense and i've had it
I got lost in the constellation in your eyes,
It felt like I was flying in the atmosphere's oceanic skies.
You made me spin like my orbit is around  you,
In this biosphere, it has always been you.
I'm in a steady state, each day my love for you is expanding,
But I'm still me, the same way, withstanding.
When the universe started to form,
Everything was meant to happen.
We were destined to meet,
But not to be together,
Because you got lost in the constellation in the galaxy of another.
It is about science, about cosmology a branch of astronomy. I used the terms to relate it to love.
Wordsmith May 2019
The moon has its ways of inspiring awe,
Taking on different forms, challenging static notions of identity—
And when it chooses to shine bright, it affirms it has never been any less a whole—
Roman Payne May 2019
Have you ever noticed how the paths the stars travel across the sky depend entirely upon on the way our hands move across each other's bodies?

And how new stars are born when I unhook your dress; new planets, when I unclasp your bra.

And how - when you untie your hair, whole new galaxies are formed, and float off into the nebula as your hair falls down around us.

Have you felt the cosmic trembling of my beard along your earlobe?

Or how - your eyelash sweeping across my chin sends showers of meteors to the end of time?

And how - the slower we proceed with our ritual, the slower, more gently, the earth will spin; the more elegant, more beautiful, the universe will unfold?

And how - we can even go back in time; to live and relive the stories we want retold.

Have you noticed how - all the Universe mirrors us?  

How - every experience and all of existence depend upon the extent of our adoration for each other?

How - we can even go back to the time before the earth was formed - for our love does not need the earth - we are two celestial bodies; nothing will disturb us, nothing will interfere.  

Off in the distance - the planets and stars that are the children of our whispers and moans, fade into eternity.

You see - if we love with enough elegance; adore each other with enough passion; we can even go back to before the entire universe began - to the time with no place, and the place before time.

For our love needs no time to love.

Be still, my love.

Look around us.  
Look at the delicate darkness.
Listen to the infinite silence.
Experience the magnificent stillness.  

It is just you and me.  
Nothing has ever happened.
And, all that is beautiful has yet to come.

Let us create a universe of beauty...

I slide my fingers into the aether of your thighs, to the center of the Universe to become - to the place on your body that will create everything.  For - the Cosmos will come from you, my Love.

Gently - I caress the sphere of your Landica.
I turn it, set it in motion, make it revolve - the way the Earth and all planets some day - are going to revolve once they come into being.

And - as I circulate the cosmic seed of the Universe we are creating, I hang upon the celestial majesty of your lip, and wait for you to utter your primordial - Big Bang.
Recorded version available at
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