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josef Nov 2024
all the light is here
nothing else near
just the spirit
onlylovepoetry Sep 2024
~for Maya~

(8/12/24)
never put off the important stuff
till tomorrow, defined as 202five,
first tend to the existential jive,
after all there are harvests
that need bringing in,
bills that need to be paid,
or yet to arrive,
and them older ones, children demanding
an installment to keep them happy’n
currently hip

the weather vane ventures an opinion,
another option, hard to discern, for the
vane spins wildly as almost undecided
as a teenager dreaming ‘bout which girl
to prom-vite, or a seven year old confronting
30 plus favors in the tuck shop before picking
the craziest, the most colorful,
& worst tasting,
then dropping cone et al, on dad’s ****** brand,
new sneakers

putting off poetry till the next year’s almanac
agrees a day off you need,
to seed,
to cede
for yourself, a practical decision
that any farmer could at arrive,
tho probably better things need doing,
****, even sleeping as there is never
enuf  seconds even for that, cause something
always needs fixing,
and

I ain’t even mentioned the vagaries of the
full time occupancy of worrying bout
the witches in charge of discharging
crazy unpredictable Canadian weather

but there is something that needs tending,
use those soil stained fingernails to unburden
the weights that don’t go away, just because
the body too tired to talk to the soul, cheat
sleep, scribble down that single verse that
the chest can’t get rid off, that rhyme in
your puzzled mind, as to what comes next,
and then the rest will follow; which
one you ask, me smiling, the one that
already burnt a hole in your breast,
complaining bout their orphaned status,
and looking to be one of the kids who get
luckily adopted

but what do I know, probably all wrong, me
with no plan on how to survive beyond T+1,
the way markets taught ya how to think
about additive time, a day at a time,
but still find a poem for you
squeezing itself in between his very different
list of worries that never quit, making those
hailstones falling in his can’t-sleep-either brain,
rising with the Eastern sun to pen
crazy poems about humans he’ll likely never
meet…

postscript
————-
his favored Persian poet penned, (1)

We are often in battle,
So often defending every side of the fort,
It may seem, all alone.

Sit down my dear,
Ttake a few breaths,
Think about a loyal friend,
Where is *your
music,
Your pet, a brush?

Now pick up your life again,
Let whatever is out there
Come charging in

Laugh and spit into the air,
There could be holy fallout.* (1)
m a k a y l a Aug 2024
Oh how I crave the innocence of wide eyes
They search around for good things, Holy things
Oh how I crave the innocence of laughing at oneself
So loud and joyful, a full and holy melody
Oh how I crave to protect the innocence of these wide eyes and laughing songs
Innocence, holy and good
Ken Pepiton May 2024
Time spent, time used up, time invested
in fungible progressing thought conservation,
- a norm is a tool often called
- a carpenters square, it measures many things.

Time taken, per use, used to mean
the point upon which all stored tellings remain
hanging vivacious, lively, spirited

orthographic aches and pains
associable sayings held writ
as ritually chanted fourty days and forty nights
esoterically spelled enchanting mission statements
- chance you changed, by now
- since aim became destination
- only under public misperception
- of enormous advances in governing.
Forgoodness sakes alive,
what holds church
together, integral,
in the center, holding all
there, here, then and now, some how
made real, as if contemplation allows temples
of living stone and multiple minds across times.

Let this mind be in you,
let that which hinders be taken away,
read the writing never written, let be, left shown

artificially made sacred duty to learn, or burn.

That which lets our holy convocation function, lets
our weform in awe become the responding chorus.
Toy selves, all shined up for Sunday socialization rite.

U R, church, your chancery ifery wasery core,
what for, given as good as gotten,
take away and
make up a mind
to use the sense made
to make more.

Profitable for correction, orthoganal, upright
straight, squared away, totally normalized

within the compass of the builder's guilded norm.

Enormity of normal means
for making sense, at grammar's edge,
effectually fervently, in chorus, in response,
four billion breathing enourmous relief
four billion other breathers blowing hot air
constantly, in and out,
not right and wrong, just breathe
responsibly possibly exposing old science,
using ancient ways
to mean mean concepts,
points left to hold whole strains
of long thoughts, tested right uses
long gone
to seed, needful urges, will to learn awe
as new knowers lead to learn for ever's sake,
next comes to be logical instantly, indeed
to hold writ writtenness witnessed.
Wisdom knowing understood,
used, freely, by taken rights.
------------
Actuality reified known really
realizable, in response sponsored by:

The free will subset in the normal range
of the ruliad, whither no thought possible
is lost, indeed, thither on thinking  possible.
Twice. Once right now,
twice then when you look again.

On one point in time we shared,
one idea turned into two,
and thus knowledge
puffs up the clouding curiosities…

known to linger in sacred shadows
from mumbled Latin entrancements
reified, sniff the atmosphere, holy dread
coupled sensuously with incense,
to cover the stench of penitents
ineffectual repetitionings.

Tittles and jots, bits and pieces,
little here right there, little more
a little later,

Sunday is a day of rest.
Fine day to fish in forgetfullness,

flipping pages through past lives,
finding places clearly marked,

this is the way.
All squared away, to give peace a chance to stick a normal abnormal wrong idea exalting itself as holy war according to holy writ. To slay an enormity,
one uses enormous exageration of little bits and pieces. let become words.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2024
Our Holy Communion of Words

you wrest my words away, with tongue and teeth,
running their sounds out with your soft tonguing,
gentling their enunciated freedom to float airborne,
but not before,
your teeth hone them sharper, wiser, better,
before freeing the letters
for life eternal rebirthing,
swapping, warping words,
into a
a holy communion

then with thy lips closing after them,
wishing them godspeed,
safe travels to yet another’s eye imbibing,
until released once more,
traveling from souls you likely
never to meet, embrace, greet,
but to whom you have formed a
direct intangible tangling,
shared wafered words,
a holy communion*

But

yours,
your words,

gut punch me,
how could you know,
where/\were
you there beside me when in darkened hours
the sun shone brightly, illuminating with bent light
our crevices and our crevasses,
your, words, written,
stun me into crazy, as if
you were within my interior
a cacophony exposed for all to hear,
my grunts & oofs,
visceral, too real, and
my actual tears cascade unfiltered
into the cup of our tangible entangling,
salted & starry*


our holiest communion yet!

~~~~~~~~
Fri Feb 9,
10:00pm~10:30pm
inspired by Audra McDonald,
this poem came in a single short breath i taken,,
and left just as quickly
single, speedy insight
Serendipity Feb 2024
I have seen the devil
with her sharp smile
and eyes that pierced
the milky way.

Her teeth ached for my skin
and I became religious:

Not out of a need for a God to save me,
but for a need for something holy
to exist.
Keara Marie Jan 2024
I wrapped my holy legs around his heavy head and let his tongue swim towards salvation.  He looked me in the eyes while he was down there breathing for his life. He knew I wanted him to see what he does to me.
I am endless /
Butterfly of Virginality /
I summon thee /
Unto me, /
I do. /

Endless night /
Endless day /
Simultaneously /
Entwinement, /
Intertwinement, /

Of all fathomed, /
Impossible, yet now it is /
Through the thew, through the sinew, /
Of the spirit: /
Hallowed it is! /
----------------------

Written

by,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III, AAS

--------------------
Robert Ronnow Nov 2023
Black lives matter. Me too.
Not my president. Give peace a chance.
Luck runs out. I like immigrants.
Power must be challenged by power.

Equal and opposite reactions.
God is the answer. Love is the answer.
Walk on the sunny side of the street. Meat feet.
Learn to drive. Wait for the train in the rain.

A girl gets sick of a rose. Mock orange.
Mediocre presidents, unnecessary wars.
Triumph and humiliation. Meditation.
Sometimes I’m tired of being me. Therefore.

Subaru. Suduko. Haiku. Hulu.
Stop on red, go on green. Orderly neighborhood.
Too tired to be angry. Too tired to do homework.
Tolstoy is the Tolstoy of the Zulus.

College campus. Saguaro, cactus.
Million dollar movie. Aliens in the bleachers.
Full length feature. TED talk, lecture.
Breathe in experience. Bring sentience into an expressible state.

Events pile up with or without an identity willing to organize them.
Events in their mere chronology make no sense.
Inability to transcend own interests. Inability to find one’s way.
Vacations and accomplishments accumulate late in life and early on.

Late in life I struggle against my insignificance.
The straight way lost. Concentrate on this: Thy will be done.
The straight way misplaced. Get over it. Someone tell a joke.
Love. Vote. Join a committee or a party.

MLK made the jump from race to class, dreamed of a brotherly nation.
Is this feeling nostalgia for the past or occipital neuralgia?
Knee surgery, plywood factory. Lost lover, lost city.
Old friends who are dead to me but still here.

Somewhere there are flowers among railroad ties.
True love between ****** partners. Dusty villages and vast cities.
Popper v. Niebuhr, impeachment inquiry.
Hassid and Muslim dress codes. French fashions.

Watch for war, **** and shower. Do the limbo.
Pay bills. The very thought of the rosy dawn makes Jack ill.
Big comfy couch, a nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day.
A long day’s journey into night. Truckin’.

Death comes for the archbishop. Private Ryan and Big Red One.
Absence of knowledge and intelligent beings who make things happen.
Life’s brevity and the time taken to carve the canyon.
Decibel level and ambient noise. Captain Carpenter and Mr. Flood.

Nothing but ocean, self-aware organisms and the longing they provoke.
Unit, corps, God, country. Zip code. The clocks and the docks gone and       no smoke.
Achilles and Hector. Wills and losses.
Continued existence and most of history.

A holy condition. A warrior’s position.
Walk with a limp. Don’t complain about pain.
Truth may be ascertained by considering your uncertainty.
If everyone votes and every vote’s counted, time is the mercy of eternity.
Zywa Oct 2023
Everything that we

humans can touch is sacred --


Sacred Emptiness.
"Desolation Angels" (1965, Jack Kerouac), chapter 1-2-89: the essence of what you can touch remains a mystery

Collection "MistI"
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