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annh 5d
Acceptance that in this life
Blood and sinew define me
And yet my mind can fly,
Doesn’t come easily.

To find the pivot point,
The sweet spot where form and fancy
Co-exist in perfect balance,
Eludes me most of the time.

To lose myself in the dreck of daily life dulls my spirit;
To reject the limitations of my reality
Leaves me stranded in the in between spaces
Where discontent, longing and self-doubt flourish.

Engaging in this power struggle
Between my earth and my ether
Leads me to gainsay one half of my whole,
Either or, vice versa, within or without.

To find a ***** in my own armour,
To prise open the gap,
To embrace the paradox which is this person named “I”,
And walk the tightrope with panache...aha!

‘The picture of a being is always a schema, a simplified and crude depiction of what is never entirely representable and exhaustible; such a being seeks to be understood in its potentiality and respected as something infinite, even if boundaries (common forms of existence) have been drawn like fate around it, borders beyond which it can not escape and which its physiognomy constantly remembers.’
- Helmuth Plessner, Grenzen der Gemeinschaft
Just Grace Mar 8
We give a little bit
then before long
she hears your song
telling you place

to fare belonging
to wear those longings
on your shoulders

now you'll find (you'll find, you'll find harmony)
who shares your carry
pray that you embrace them
pray that you don't waste them

give that give that give that (harmony)
give that place love
give that all that you got
love it all
embrace your falls
you're not lonely because
I see you here
Scribbles found in notebook, remembering it as an impulsive mind-dump. Found myself impressed by this reflection, as it was found later during a hardship and now finding them comforting.
Maria Mitea Oct 2020
Came gently sneezing at my turned-up nose
when hiding under the soft wool blanket.

Winter mornings came with promising poetry,
heartening the warm bed and inviting me,
Poetry that smelled like burned wood,
infused with the smell of grey blackish ashes,

Keeping the dress sleeves rolled up,
and the hair with very much care combed
back in a solid hair bun, like a trusty guardian,

My mother,
started every winter morning,
bended on her knees,
like in a pray
in front of winter stove,
like in a pray,
cleaning the stove,

She kept silent while cleaned the ashes,      
Ashes, that warmed the house and cooked the food,
Ashes made the hot tea soothe,
Ashes made the popcorn dance and jump,
fly on the floor, and fly on the table  
‘till we started popcorn fight,
popcorn flew in many mouths,
popcorn flew everywhere in the warm house.

Ashes of burned wood,
I could not understand,
its fire and heat took care of our roots,
penetrating our hearts like gold dust.

My mother’s silence every day cleaned
the winter stove from burned wood
with devotion and zest,
Getting it ready for a new day fire,
Getting it ready to cook borscht.
Harley Hucof Aug 2020
I find myself naked
In front of a mirror
Giving my imaginative speech
To the people

Suddenly i'm in the middle of this river
And the Oracle is looking at me

"Smile child
We are here to feel
Life gets confused at times ,

It's allright
Separation is not real. "

Then why not only happy feelings ? I ask

"The duality of your emotions
generates the spinning required for the matter to manifest

Trust and accept life through your feelings "

Words Of Harfouchism
Cry in peace
Ces Jul 2020
I am a poet
And the ether is my pen
A digitized mind.
Willow shade Mar 2020
Miss the heaven of your soul
In memories far away
Will you ever evanesce?!
Will I always feel my way?!

Not having bidden adieu
Left me in purgatory
Ah, I fell in love with you
Like the Pyrrhic victory

Warriors never give in
And their values carry on
I will drive dolours away
Till your voice is clarion

As dreams are effulgent,
Living is no more bitter
Your laughter is echoing
Through the endless Ether

I have the panacea
A true poet never fails
We gain little solaces
Owing to hard travails
All is still
my little
of ebb and
flow, I am
still, and
yet I float,
with those
the ether
that is
far yet
near, the
gentle on
my skin,
in the state
of being
& therefore,
Online true heart's desires known
Offline true hearts desires shown
Engine roaring, silent phone
Driven through the Ether Zone

The Ether, neither above nor below
But here, where the roots of our spirit grow
See the fire has a constant glow
Feel the water at a steady flow

In and out as the undertow
Surrender breath to this will, let go
Returned to body with the new peaceful slow
Mind at ease without the need to know
David Hasselblad May 2019
Cosmic Ball

Dressed in a suit of pinstripe stars,
He’s discussed war and played chess with Mars,
Far, in foreign solar systems,
He chuckles with their planetary distortion,
He’s gambled for the diamonds of Neptune,
Bowled infinite starlit lanes with Jupiter,
Witnessed sacred scry’s and change from Saturn,
Witnessed lies, severed ties,
Much he has seen, he who walks starlit skies,
Martini’s of primordial soup,
With a scoop of star,
Shared in lieu of chaos, with Venus,
Knocking back a few, so far,
He’s raced Mercury around the sun,
Every lap done, feeling victory, whether he’s lost or won, praises they sung, harmony rung,
He’s sat on the surface of Sol, sunglasses dawned,
Other then growth and to learn he has no defined goal,
Just playing a role,
Breaking energetic chains,
And immortal bars,
He slow dances with a myriad of stars,
Celestial bodies of divine will, power, grace,
Orbiting around him in suits, silk, suede nylon and lace,
All dancing to a distant interstellar song,
A long distant echo of light,
A throng of stars creating the constellations mighty heights,
A universe locked in constant cosmic push and pull,
Never empty, never full,
He reflects, riding the back of a wild cosmic bull,
Riding back to mother, back to varied perspectives of what is true,
Back to a planet of green and blue,
Till the next invitation come queue,
To another night in primordial stew of sights and seeings,
Another quaint Ball with fantastic cosmic beings..
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