The next words that I write could go sweet or go sour

They could last for mere minutes or go on for an hour

There's a power I have when I start to create

It can be somewhat awful or truly be great

I try to pick words so a picture they paint

Sometimes there is color and sometimes there ain't

I hope what I write, in the end, makes you feel

Like a diner who's about, to consume a great meal

If you're happy and full when you leave from my table

Then I'll continue to write, as long as I'm able!

Soften the membrane
of Creative Thought
not the memory taught
Let the Seive of Osmosis
relax into action
not the pounding thought
but the Natural Draw and Release
Ease into Ideas
and construct a Tidy Bed
a Cleared Desk of Concentration
an Operation of My Dreams
Structured
as a Part Within
The Worlds Form
Rightful in place
and Marked Out
then Mailed Out
When Ready
Make me A Use
that I may
In Simple
Create.








© Jon Thenes 2015

Creating your thoughts into
Reality,letting your imaginations
Escape and form
Art to always live
Through your life and for
E*ver.

I misread
a lot of you's
I proofread most of your mistakes
you ****** at grammar

I silently made my red pen dance
on your blue inscriptions
that you thought
were unique

I scratched the wrong words
I indented your run on's
I even added a bit of sincerity  
to all your reality

I stepped back and looked at you
you were blotches of red on scribbles of blue
you were a mistake
that I thought I could fix
at the end of the day,
I took that paper crumpled it
and aimed at the trash
and scored

My red pen yearned for correcting many more
but my red pen gave up scratching
and wanted to create its own story
of its very own mistakes
of its own doing,
so it can create a masterpiece of
"me"

They say live
live alone
straitlaced as an
arrow meant
for that
one gruelling
dot

Live for the
ambition
of the skies
and never the
gravity of
the ground.

I say
fall and rise
fire and air
swept in
torrents
up there
swinging
for burn or tide
downs.

I say create
and destroy
live still
and die all ways
change
and change
until time stops
its
crackle
and bustle

Every waking
day
Is both
a funeral and
a birth right

I say create
as we all
write our stories
amidst the
downpour of
life
and the ruins
in our heads.

my hands tell a story
of living.
a story of being happy, sad, hopeful, and hopeless.
my hands say where i’ve been
and hold the knowledge to where I will go.
my hands see the people I have touched,
the tears I wiped away, the things I grasped,
and those that I should have let go of.
my hands are big, dexterous, and strong.
they touch, type, and hold.
I have seen
the wonder my hands can create.
my hands mold, shape, and color.
they wear rings, polish,
dirt, sweat, bruises, cuts,
and scars.
my hands hold in every variation
a memory.
my hands know me.

the tarnished amour of the we little she, he and yes, the you in me.

Pix elated images vibratory frequency of the flicker rate,
the resolution in its #x# scale and aspect ratio,

silly how we utter this vibe from the heart, vocal in rounded grounded sounded,
these words, we symbolize, individualize, characterize, initialize, authorize,
these thoughts and concepts of need and purpose, of intent, of desired effect/affect, for reason and yes even a ******* resolution.

Yet is the resolutions we seek through intended deeds and understandings of these choppy rounded uttered babbled bastardized thought into the realm of physical and manifest from the electric thoughts of our seeming lone and lonely worlds of the pitch black of the inner parts of the skull and brain so gelatinous and electro- chemically factory of the mind through the spine and the Ark of the Covenant through the helix of a Jacobs Lattered spiral stair way to heaven , is it really ******* that we have in mind of resolution? or is it te failings of this duality we have created in the love of the out pouring of our creator into this silly illusion of vibrations reflection as our truth Experiences its creations through the very minds eye of our torn , broken and forgiving hearts a blaze?

I say, need not worry of a long sentence where the heart speaks without punctuation, anticipation, nor retaliation for rendered intent, for we utilize what is of truth and all things are of God and only in existence by the living will of Love which is your conscious creator and father, tree from which our seeds of lineage do come and a family tree that deeds us all kingdoms and lands where our hearts rule endlessly and in the glory of free thought and will al in the love of learning  and remembering we never have left the garden and the heart of our creator, see the remote of this reality is the illusion, we are only all and all only the one in the dim witted yet learning love of the consciousness of the one source, our facts an truths self evident on that day soon to come for us all, wt en we snap our heads to the right in a sudden **** to realize  ***, it is truly that simple? it was all that simple? oh my, yes, just as kindergarten, where we learned, Nothing is that difficult, the only thing difficult is the us in interaction with all of existence and the flow of what is already and always has been and never was, the never never of the always has been son. the You in me, the me in you and the we in this most truly intelligent, patient, kind and everlasting life of labored and growing love of the one true creator the all , the great spirit, the Lord, the soul one, so true, the all in all and the us all in you as you witness the beauty of you in the heart of the ever growing and thriving source of all, **** friend I love you too, and you love my *** too, and together we are both silly children and foolish in ever forgetting to believe less of the truth of miracles and the in a blink of an eye reality of the garden of dreams we stand, you there, me here, and nothing but love in the in between.

Not forgoing the risk that you just might fear the reality that you are a big softy and only dislike the hearts and unicorns shooting rainbows from their arses because you find little love in what man has created, well, son, brother, sister, sit down and lets talk for a second, consider this,
all things are created by God and thus made out of pure sound of the love pouring from the trunk of this tree of life, and if you i intend to harm another ******* in the world with one of Gods Creational vibrations with your creations of will and thought , then remember that God superseded your silly ***, by allowing that hate filled intent of harm  is made from love and the intent can be stripped from the truth of weight, pain, burden, causation for another to doubt themselves ( lets be honest, this is the flat truth, you can not cause true harm without the other allowing themselves to believe the creations purpose.) and in that be harmed by a creation from you using the love of God , for you can not create **** nor anything exist outside of the love and sound of Gods being and truth, so, yeah, next time you are hurt by another's actions and deed, remember, you are a creator in this love of God too, and you can strip the intent from all things man and take it to the original truth, Gods love for you as you learn and grow in this bizarre place of day dreams we have fancied ourselves helpless too, **** we can be silly and foolish but, we will never be undone nor destroyed in the image of the face of God for we are all made of the sound of Gods love for all existence.

and thus , if you don't agree, then, thanks for playing , lol, listening that is, and realize you are free to believe what ever, and i too am in this fact self evident, and in this one rule is the only consistent, harm none, least you be harmed. for out of the eater comes meat and from the strong comes a soft hand.
and in that, my friends, is where i stand.

and that is why all the tarnish and stains and marred marks of battles won and lost, will lift and flutter away as cherry blossoms in the wind on a summers windy day. and shine, you will, and counted we do make, for we are here to learn and grade one anothers efforts to stay in line with the core rules, and never, even, are we out of the you in me and the me in you. wink, smile and by the way, thank you for the small things , for they are truly the biggest of things in the cy re of self evident and good.

Badger Crow Moon/ Ricci Dale Moon Scott Oct/12/2015 12:04 PM
Moon Walk ✗☽彡☾✗☰ Trigram Heaven , may we all have equal chance to prove we can harm no one and create true and in love and growth of the Tree of life of Gods loving heart song of us all.

I came to You carrying a bowl:
white clay set with tourmaline
and green beryl like the sea
precious  
                   simple
                                 sacred.

A silvery glaze you poured
over cracks in the clay--
mistakes I have made
perfecting
                    illuminating
                ­                             scars.

Swirling in this vessel,
as I stumble toward your hall,
is a liquid dark, seething:
fire and ink
filth and steaming sludge
and something
                                                       ­           slithers
                                           ­                                     just below the surface

living pollution eking out its existence in a putrid potion.


I can hardly lift it anymore.
with weakening arms I collapse,
but strive to hold the basin yet
my hands crushed beneath its weight.

With a shattered voice I call to You
You
who crafted the bowl:
                                                                     Mercy! mercy...

Desperate for rescue
before the evil lurking within
drags itself out to consume.


                                                      ­                                            *What You made
                                                            ­                                                 I poisoned,
                                                       ­                            And what in life You gave
                                                            ­                                    I filled with death.
                                                          ­                                       Empty the vessel
                                                                ­                        and unmake the beast.
                                                          ­                                     Renew and restore,
                                                        ­                                              Maker of All.

I write poetry to pass the time,
Seeking solace in a silly rhyme.
Reminds me how alone I am,
And how no one really gives a ****.

Looking for therapy,
I find an ease momentarily.
Hoping for peace to put things on paper instead,
Except I realize they're still in my head.

Nagging and gnawing, the words won't retreat.
My thoughts are a burden,
Slowly killing me.