It's not actually a flower
It's a painting of a flower
No definition beyond
The flower's we see
Out on the lawn
Merely an image
Paint fumes replaced
The charmers scent
Drew our mates
An orchestrated opus
Of wayward heart
Galaxies of lyric-less
From who knows
Is all we are
Why do morning dove
Insist to sing
Birds of prey scream
Blinding beams of sunlight
Reflect off mighty seas
Blinding our eyes
Yet still we believe
What meaning has
The giant ancient trees
Of nature only define
That beautifully rhymes
The depth of space isn't really confined
but along with infinity it is defined.
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
He is so deep
wE forgot who
he is so deep
let my not be
that I may be
word of love are to love
words of hate are to hate
side by side lines
our crooked life's
The whole world is wrong.
defined by not being right,
defined by people who know themselves better than I.
The whole world is at my fingertips.
My fingertips -
wrought in rust,
wrought in hues of iron butterfly wings,
wrought in the language of dead, forgotten things.
The whole world is somewhere in the universe.
Somewhere in the universe -
lost in the void of space,
lost in the void of time taken to meet ourselves,
lost in the void of where lost things look real,
lost in the void of what could have been and what could be.
The whole world is wrong,
The whole world is wrong,
And it is right,
Wrong and right, full and empty,
Timeless and running out of time.
The whole world is gone.
It was never meant for me.
1. "Anything that I do
that does not involve you."
2. "Nurturing any part of me
that does not satisfy some part of you."
3. "Satisfying any need i have
that seems illigitiment in your mind."
. . . At least, that's what I've come to understand. . . .
i wish i got to re-write the dictionary
Whose heart is mine
When I'm defined in emotions?
The way people speak,
Make me a different shade
And those I meet and leave
Have left their mark
Whose heart is mine,
When the world
Erases my fault.
Happiness is simply defined:
The absence of humanity's natural depression
That which binds all human life by rightful sorrow
For our disconnection with our mortal purpose
And our delusional yet rational will for the advent of tomorrow
No man, woman, or child deserves their next day
But the intangible emotion of God guides the way
So in that sense happiness isn't the absence of anything
Rather, our internal need to survive letting itself sing.
zero in on that second when gravity
takes a small dive into the contrast
that is nothing.
you are left comparing what your
senses still reveal to the soft blanketed
blankness of no-thing at all.
an absence only apparent because
it has been
the numbered becomes numberless
when there's nothing
Don't be defined
By what you don't want to be
For you were designed
To be more than you see.
Making a potentially adult idea into an almost playful, childish limerick is a way of normalizing an issue. It doesn't change the power of the statement, it changes its audience. There is not one best way to talk about something - there are simply ways we can try.
A few things in mind,
A few things planned,
decided upon other few
In the meantime also discussed upon something that is important, which needs to be kept in mind.
What remained in mind after doing all this is the importance of time,
really finally it’s time that is important.
Time is important regardless of the fact that most of the time everything needs to be done on time
Experience is gained when efforts are made in the right direction, however, expertise follows later on again explaining the fact that time is important.