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As golden leaves fall gently down
From treetops in the sky
They scatter ‘cross the golden ground
When Autumn breezes fly

These tiny leaves don’t realize
The power that they hold
To nurture growth that will arise
As they decay and mould

Relax and let the ebbs and flows
Of seasons cycle round
For that’s the way abundance grows
When leaves fall to the ground
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Billie Marie Feb 8
Well, well! These numbers,
don’t they tell quite an interesting story:
Aligning ever so perceptually, perpetually
perfectly with our half-full moon.

We are absorbing only
what we truly are
and honoring release
of all that is not.

The first full moon
of this Master Builder Year
of the Tigress Enchantress
capturing our hearts
and filling us up
to flood our programmed minds
with proof that we are free.

The drowning turns to flames
as quickly as flames
turn to vapor and disappear
into our One True Being’s
Eternal Grace. Smile,

even Laugh Out Loud
at this joyful purge
and holy release.
We are all one heart in love.
As a kid, I know I saw air shows
although none specific stand out,
I know there were skies that
buzzed and thundered
the sound of determined direction

at each one I know there would be pilots
who threw small planes in tight loops

everyday, pulling back on the stick,
taunting gravity to notice and push,
barrelling to a zenith
of impossible weightlessness, momentary,
before the nauseous crush returned,
over and over in front of an audience

and I know I watched and thought
“That’ll be me one day.”
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
Captain Obvious non-profundititties:

The same individuals, families, groups, institutions, organizations, governments,
and foundations that fund and profit from the research, development, and manufacture of weapons/arms/firepower, and that spark wars with propaganda, sloganeering, and social moral tribalism in general, profit greatly from the use of bombs that damage cities.

That same Apex power structure gains massive profits from the rebuilding of the damaged cities and from the modification of socioeconomic platforms and systems, and profited gravely from the genesis of those cities in the first place.

Apex power uses a middleman saviour syndrome power structure within Crisis Management Economics to perpetually keep the peasants divided against each other in groups that achieve groupthink psychic phenomena within an overall state of inner hyper-conflict, guilt, shame, uncertainty, and neurotic fear. The Apex power structure has three main nexus points that are the Unholy Trinity:

The Vatican: Spiritual (variants of ******, an ancient concept, require spirituality/Occult and quasi-science to merge with the pre-existing centralization and monopolization of authority and corporation spawned via fascism)

City of London/The Crown Corporation: World Bank driven global economy

Washington D.C.: Military and hyper-surveillance/Big Tech

The Sun Tzu saviors play good cop/bad cop in slow-boil, two faces on the same Judas coin lying and flipping at the bottom of the ***. Both sides have the concentration camps. Both sides push dope but gaslight kids for using drugs. Both sides engage in non-consensual **** on many different levels. Both sides are directly connected to 72+% of all negative pollution, and gaslight the poorest to supposedly help fix the problem with giving money to the entities that **** Earth. Both sides sell arms/weapons to all sides, and both sides obviously don't want the peasants to know how the world functions and operates.
11 12 2021
Spike Harper Aug 2021
Things come and go.
Like people I suppose.
We play games to pass the time.
Roll dice on gambles.
Take chances with our lives.
Only there is no collecting when coming full circle.
That's called a mistake.
So we jump to other boards.
Hoping we aren't sorry.
Realizing there is no perfection.
Trying to balance every risk.
Like we ever had a clue.
Some try so hard.
While others scoff at effort.
What is the right combo that will lead to the end game.
It's like an ever changing rubix cube.
So many patterns to memorize.
But doing the same thing.
And over.
Is that living.
Or insanity.
Whatever it's called.
One thing is certain.
We shall never get bored.
Playing with our demons.
Harley Hucof May 2021
I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD?

Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale.

There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals.

There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here.
My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red.

From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget?  

I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism

Words Of Harfouchism
Harley Hucof Apr 2021
Back in my village, in the middle of a pine forest, I walk for hours radiating yellow and green until the earth swallows me and spits me out as a mystical bird-like being.

Like a peacock, I spread my shimmering, resonating feathers and bow to the giant raptor in the sky.
I can only be obedient to his emanations.
I fly back to my children, to my nest on a magnificent cedar tree. We entangle our necks and feathers in rapture knowing that soon, the earth shall reclaim my original nature.

By the sea I sit and patiently wait  to remember why I chose to forget.
The wind moves the waters, and the waves cast the sunlight onto my forehead. I feel the heat increasing as my structure dissolves. I gain back consciousness in an aquatic atmosphere taking a turtle-like form with a shell and humanoid hands. I swim down following a series of glares and vibrations until I reach what is seemingly an immense turtle temple. I feel a sudden danger and crawl back into shell. I open up my eyes and find myself sitting by the sea again.

Life is a journey of appreciation.
I can only surrender and be grateful.

Words Of Harfouchism
Harley Hucof Apr 2021
Life is all entertainment , just like a psychedelic theater, our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation.
I roam in and out my worldless kingdom
Freedom's reserved for the wild and untamed.
For who cares to know, we could fly our way out as falcons , or swim our way in as whales. It will never really matter because it's all entertainment , while we patiently wait for the emanations.
Expectations emerge from preconceived notions and blocks the transmissions entitled to all sentient beings.
Like a collective prophet and a magnet , we learn to filter the commands to percieve the matrix. Finally to redefine and recreate a convenient  path that is real.
Our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation, i chose my fun as transmutation, life is recreational.

Words Of Harfouchism
Reuben F Apr 2021
There's the seer of frolicking clouds posed:
Suddenly, the sky's streams -
Made of melt that the sun creams,
They gloom her dull eyes with dreams
While the umbrella relinquishes closed.

There's the little gyre of a colour:
She'd made the choice of shade -
Brought, no silence, no parade
Or a lively barricade,
While she lived in natural poise, solar.
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