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Orakhal Jul 2020
No target
bes greater

than
empty space
full of itself
Orakhal Jun 2020
A truth
be wanted

and

A truth
be unwanted

all
be truth
all be
the imagination believed

a choice be yours alone
a choice be the only truth you have  
all be true as ones attention be put to it
and becomes more true as  it
trains your vibration to its resonance

you see
what you create
to look at it
you look
at what you create
to see it
thru projection
you illuminate  reality
from behind your head
its light becomes you
you become it
the shine takes its form
thru the formless self
Gabriel burnS Mar 2020
They say that scale can break the laws of science
A crime so high in magnitude
Yet they cannot police
This bully that reality turns out to be

We met by means of tunneling improbabilities
The kiss of a miracle
Punishing the God complex
Of the self-righteous
Because the real laws, unknowable,
Dwell in realms higher than dogmatic notion
Whose knowledge is the surface of an ocean

Hence judgement cannot be
Wrought by the swimmers
And their fear of mortality
That guides them through the waves
And so their laws are the transgression

And We
Are the justice of the storm
...might be a quantum phenomenon...

It's funny to me when I hear scientists say that in a situation, such as "at the quantum level, particles act so bizarrely their behaviour breaks the laws of science."
No, it doesn't. It doesn't break any universal laws, just the current knowledge on how everything works; it just means we don't know enough yet, apparently. Don't make it sound so arrogant, as if we know the most important things, and reality dares disobey our extraordinarily accurate perception of things. Just accept it's probably not enough currently.
mel Feb 2020
feel the devotion
of every cell
sing through you
there is nothing more true
than the heaviness you hold
and the light that unfolds
through the catalyst
of you
Karen Lang Feb 2020
I am here
Where else can I go?
My mind can pull me
My mind can take me
My mind can confuse me
But I stay in stillness
I stay focused on my breath
I stay in this moment
I am here
Nowhere else to be
With life
With it all
With nothing
I am here
Presence is a practice.  So practice. :)
mel Oct 2019
sometimes i get sad
foraging through what can seem like
a big pile of never-ending-mishaps
and some days the weight of life
lays so heavy on my chest
that i want to give up
and just marry my bed

but then i remember
that i am the universe in motion
and if wildfires have the right
to burn everything in their paths
and if the sky can cry for days on end
then why would the rules for me amend?
for i am made of the same elements as them
the air i breathe and the stars i see
are all alive, inside of me

so i stop and feel

i mean, what is real?
my problems are
temporary
and i am forever
my soul exists in a place
where honey love is all i taste
where i fall asleep dancing
with rainbows in kaleidoscope skies
to the rhythm of the phases
of our monsoon sun rise

opening up
my heart and eyes
my lips may tremble
with the power of time
but i will kiss the clouds
in the morning highs
to remind the world
of it's eternal light
along with mine

i let it all go
and i realign
Shakti Asana Jul 2019
I want to be the potter
and you the clay
I want to work you with my hands
My fingertips pressing
now....against the keys
the board stiff under the sensitive pads
as I feel you press back against me
imagining
your lips
soft
wet
tenderly
pressing
into me.

The clay
soft and supple under my hands
forming you,
widening you again and again
my muscles working
against your stiffer aspects
as we spin together
wetting, re-wetting
and smoothing
my hands against
your silky slick
foundation
strong and yet pliable
seeking relief
from standing strong
and unyielding
need.

You are a deeper container
than I anticipated
and I, a roaring flood
threatening
sweep you
away.

but you hold...
steady.


What Joy!
What Relief!

we never expected
to contain one another
without harm!
without fear!

Peaceful
now
our lines
flow together
the potter
the clay
the hand
and the wheel
we come together.

I love how we feel.
Flinging this out there without knowing if it is good or even qualifies as poetry. Who cares for merely good? If I feel it, receive it into me, and form that experience into words that I share, well, fine. We shall call it poetry.
Who judges the one in the arena? No, not me.
Self-conscious awareness kills the poet gasping for life inside of me.
Click "Save". Post. Live. Breathe.
mel Jun 2019
in the midst of chaos
as we climb through
the rubble of what
we once thought
was holding us up
we will see that
maybe it was our
own bare hands
and worn-out feet
that picked us up
to defy defeat
and if we can be
still enough
quiet enough...
climb far enough in
the noise of the world
will disappear
and all that will be
left to hear is the
golden light
shining through
the cracks of all
we held on to
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