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ApocalypsenoW Mar 2019
The Viking King is dead and gone
His memory will live in song
On a frozen night and misty dawn
His body will forever burn

But time has passed as war subsides
New sun has rosen in the sky
The history became a myth
That teenagers will not beleave

Time passes fast for fragile men
And what they fear, will come again
All kingdoms fall, all leaders fail
And soon become a part of tale

As History repeats itself
We will all burn in pits of Hell
But there is no Hell and there is no Heven
Theres only Death.
I need an acid wash and a raku fire
Roll me in leaves and set me on fire
Glaze me brilliant pink, gold-silver metallics
Turquoise tones...
I looked into the eyes of a lizard today
Saw evolution pass before me in a flash
I dreamed of you last night it was of lust not love
For I do not know you...Just a dream
Is this for love or lust?
I gotta know
Wanna be in love and have it feel like lust
Love is pain,
Love is shame,
Love can be hatred and evol...

But...

The way I see things,
If you flip love the other way,
Love, is the evol..ution of a heart.

Unforgiving when wrong,
But unforgivable breathlessness as the love you'd once hated evolves into a joy,

A love that costs,
Nothing.

A love that is not pain,
Or shame,
Or hatred and evol.

A love that is true to the name.
Response to "it's time" by Claire Walters
Cody Cooke Feb 2019
What if our Species—far away in the past—was actually a race of neanderthals , but then a parasite from a planet inhabited by a race of Intelligent, Enlightened beings came here and has colonized us as meat husks and has failed to build a success.
Eventually, we lost our purpose.
So we followed the Sun—everything’s first god—our last hope as self-conscious apes who act in lines and indoctrinate all kinds of symmetry as dutifully as that big bright spot in the sky goes from Our east to Our west.
We are not jamestown geniuses—we are roanoke—lost in a foreign wilderness, cold and yearning for even a candles’ blink of warmth in the dark that surrounds us, alienates us, swallows us.
Cody Cooke Feb 2019
I don’t know what this is , I don’t know why it’s here ,
But it has a name and it’s feeling shame
And it measures things in years
james nordlund Jan 2019
Hustled and bustled,

Still, hands only put to heart,

Beings, only art.
senryu, how about you?
james nordlund Jan 2019
When every moment is
Struggling with every
Fiber to inspire, expire
Breath, feeling is a
Dream deferred,
Unrealizable, they say.

Yet, to feel builds emotions,
Power innate, the thread
Interweaving the fabric of life.
Though, pro-science projects
Thought is power, sensing,
Just informing, to be processed
By our computer, brain, for
Exigent programming.

Yet, conscience intuits that
Thoughts are emoting, voiced.
...That fear is naught, but,
Shadows of past's un-integrated
Experiences, cast over our
Presence and future. While both,
Integral to realizing insight,
Growth, balance and movement,
Are necessary to humanity.

"La Machine", uses them to rote
Us into un-being an efficacious part
And parcel of it, an automaton.
More, better mechanistic survival,
The reason for human being,
In societies' eye. Who dares to
Disagree, all in for a penny, in
For a pound, mostly, decay bound.
Sides, delusions, clouding their eyes.

Though, feelings hibernating
Emerge with strength, through
Discipline, which Castaneda relates
As, "the art of feeling awe", they
Can be concentrated. Focusing,
Realizing reality on wing,
Imbued co-creation in flight.

As well, what of our soma's foci of
Attention, solutioning all life,
Through myriad interrelations?
What of the breadth of our
Perceptions, the depth of every-
Ones earthen interconnections?
...Of the intimacy, hearts fathoms,
Touch's immediacy, aural artistry?

Mammon says, "what of it", being
Doesn't make money, take control,
Projections do. "We" say, they're
Le raison d'etre, potentia evolving,
Humane being, alival. I would be
Just for a day, as a mayfly, if I were
More me, rather, than as long as
An eagle flies, selling out, killing.
"If there was something in the air
If there was something in the wind
If there was something in the trees or bushes
That could be pronounced and once was overheard by animals,
Let this Sacred Knowledge be returned to us again.

Artharvaveda (VII, 66) as quoted in Entering the Circle"
KRRW Nov 2018
Unang gabi sa huling sandali
Nag-aagaw ang ilaw at dilim
Katahimika'y namamayani.


Nakatayo sa gilid ng bangin
Isang hakbang tungo sa libingan
Nakapikit ngunit nakatingin.


Sumilip ang buwan sa kalangitan
Hudyat ng katapusan ng duyog
Tuluyang bumukas ang pintuan.


Lumiyab ang bawat alikabok
Mga alitaptap na dumadapo
Sa bawat sugat nangingimasok.


Buhok ay nagsimulang lumago
Sabay sa pag-ikli ng hininga
Nagpupumiglas sa bawat pulso.


Isang bulaklak na bumubuka
Dugo at ginto ang tanging dilig
Usbong sa hungkag at tuyong lupa.


Buto at laman ay nanginginig
Balat ay nagsimulang uminit
Halik ng apoy sa pulang tubig.


Umuungol sa bawat pagpunit
Likuran na may bagong pasanin
Ngipin na sukdulang nagngangalit.


Nakalutang sa payak na hangin
Kamay ang nagsisilbing kandila
Maglalakbay sa tulay na itim.


Isang sulyap bago kumawala
Ibinuka ang pakpak na pilak
Huling yugto ng pakikidigma.
Written
11 November 2018


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
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