Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
In an ocean of night, dreaming of a closed dining space / We were snooping in on a harsh conversation of strangers that we knew / Towards dawn you spoke / as real in the dream as an apparition in the real / of Father and Mother / of them cruising off on a road trip / You faltered at a word I recollect but won't spell / It absorbed into whale song ticking to a time piece / itching to signal morning / and I could feel the depth of many fathoms  floating over a waking to Spring / like being pressed against a cherry blossom trunk / in a tug of war, a push and pull / Let's go Jungian on this, he is much more pleasant / I did see a bumble bee yesterday, not a golden scarab, although that could have been a circadian premonition / and I woke up to a shower of blossoms //
This post was written for the North Atlantic Right Whale, of which sadly, only 360 remain. As per NOAA, " The North Atlantic right whale is one of the world’s most endangered large whale species, with less than 400 individuals remaining --- Whaling is no longer a threat, but human interactions still present the greatest danger to this species. Entanglement in fishing gear and vessel strikes are the leading causes of North Atlantic right whale mortality. Increasing ocean noise levels from human activities are also a concern since the noise may interfere with right whale communication and increase their stress levels".
The article cited below wades through many concepts including: mistrust of the unconscious, wake centrism, in a waking dream and refers to the cinematic treat 'Jacob's Ladder'. I'd like to return to this movie again someday, Tim Robbins was wonderful in this. I've quoted some part of the essay below. Poems sometimes just conjure like a mist above a fallow field, there's no logic to it, or is there? Maybe someday, the dream scientists will let us know.
Here is an interesting read about Dreaming [1]. Quoting part of the article here: The mind seems to grow fidgety and uncomfortable cooped up in a body 24/7. Mentally, dreaming is like taking off a pair of tight shoes at the end of the day: the liberated mind is no longer constrained by somatic sensory and motor processes. Reminiscent of common notions about the soul leaving the body in sleep, dreaming unfetters the mind from the world of matter; and, having vacated the body, consciousness is free to pandiculate, ponder and play. The dreaming mind stretches, yawns and reawakens in a strangely familiar place where it can time travel, dialogue with demons, get trapped in a mundane loop of doing dinner dishes or soar with angels. With Jacob’s ladder in place, the sky is literally the limit.
[1]~https://aeon.co/essays/we-live-in-a-wake-centric-world-losing-touch-with-our-dreams
in dream-like states where
thoughts emerge from unconscious
whim, we carve stone sculptures
on opposite garden ends –

mine is a goat with webbed feet,
Carl’s is a duck with horns;
this is a meaningful coincidence

later, we play in the sand
with our wise inner figures;
he dances while I draw hearts
Q Nov 2020
Slowly, slowly
I feel my soft edges sharpen from the touch of the world
The warmth of my heart grow colder from the ugliness it feels in the cruelty of people
And when I feel these things I lock away the million things I have to do
and walk
Softly, softly
Into the sun and trees and breeze,
Find the love in humans,
The kindness of the world
And allow myself to be soft once again
Traveler Oct 2020
Down the drain into the world
Let the traumas begin
In my shadow
In my fears
I am sin
Integrate me
Or disassociate me
Sanity’s at stake
Read some Freud or Carl Jung
When you wake and bake
🙏
Traveler Tim
Traveler Oct 2020
Big Bang of aesthetics
Cognitive creative thoughts
The universe is expanding
With thee inertia of the god
........................................
Traveler Tim
Rhys Hebbs Oct 2020
The smartphone is a portal
to progress and possessional obsession.
To behold all knowledge of the beauty of the human experience within the palm of your hand, yet to also behold;
brilliant tutorials from false idols on how not to live your life,
that captivate and obliterate all free-folks minds.
Ahh yes, freedom-the fickle *****.
monkey see
monkey do.
The smartphone has brought us closer than ever before
yet, when this little tablet of infinity shows you only what you want to see
(like a mirror to the soul)
pray you keep keen eyes upon your shadow
for even hugs can crush and families feud and through opinions and tribal captivations
we become more divided.
It has made us spend so much time looking down, that we no longer look up;
For it hurts to stare into the light.
Nobody looks into each others eyes anymore for the same reason.
Traveler Sep 2020
Shadows are the part of us
that refuse to grow.
We need to integrate them back
neatly in stow.
........
Traveler Tim

Ken Wilber
Eva B Jul 2020
it’s a want to own but
you are not mine to own

neither is anything else that speaks
in sacred codes

what the moon tells me comes from within
but it is not mine

what belongs to the world’s heart cannot be owned
Inspired by Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
In my magic library I find old Carl Jung,
read by voice
I may imagine my own,
reading in a polished Oxford accent, with the
or made an uh at every opportunity,
and no e ever unspoken {save after lone stretched vowles stretching}
each word forming as from a bubble of thought, with one
tangentle anchor point,
stretching down from that thought cloud emerging from the bubbles
bubbling
in your magmatic earthly being,
at the heart of you
where your fire
burns
piercing.
I speak, with authority, I hear me say,
I shall know I know
as much or more
of such thoughts
as these
Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
Old man visions loosed into ever, like
the preacher making many books,
vain, but enjoyable,
all the same,
after
mediating between me and the others,
out there, free in the sea
of opinions, bound only by fear of death,

to lives of quiet desparation, to ti esti in
separation from secret knowledge unearnible,
in one mortal life's longest
state of steady
concentration
on the point
of being.
at all
or having any part in this production,
blooming, ******
beat
of my heart, oh, hell no, hello
world...

we come with words formed in defeat,
defeat repeats the message
as follows
d'toes knows ken yond some kinda ying
yang warworths lisp ship cult prize thang.
Shib-o-let slow belly lethargy,
feel it in your big
toe, touch a stone and turn the cool side up

A papal bullishit bell curve

clang, gong.... wrong... good guess, give'er another go

****** right, too right, mate, take th'prize
sur
reality position superimposed over life as imagined

before the internet, but after TV... the inbetween time

seedtime, not harvest. Seed sown, unknown seed sown,
for better living, through science.

Side track: Bayer is famous for...
Xyclon B.
Right. The game of knowing going on as we wander, wondering
waht subtle subtility what keen sence of sharpness,

pointing a way, see... that pixel, upper left quadrant, in the per
ifery
edgy bit out of focus, can you

blink? Give us a clue, are we ludicrous by nature?
Are we only here to play,
to enjoy the grace of knowing God shat on all our filthy rags

and laughed as we danced around the fire,
lost in re
very very ify verity of varieties un en visioned until the release

The Alamogordo bit of my myth with you in it.

Initial response of any heroic application is denial.
No real hero wishes to be a real hero,
the day to day existence in a virtual eden, is fine.

When we get down to where jewels form latices far funner
than the jungle gym
or monkey bars of my youth, a prewar preparation,
proven to myself,
I can do this, grip and swing, and reach and grip and swing,

command the callouses to form, command the cells to signal,

more blood, more O, too. Oh, you,
wisdom coos, in that sweet way she does when we leave
those sure
bonds of earth and take a stake in heaven's will being done
in wisdom's main domain.

---
whole heart or no heart, the hero code,
probabble babble babble on and on an in fun

item left to fuggetchewwitcher doubus ****** haecceity
point.

Score. Thats the point of anything piercing everything.
It looks different from out here.
Ah, Jung, if we ever met, I would laugh and call you a figment in my quantum foam.
The World Needs Love
The Light That Warms Through People's Window Panes
Universal Messages of Peace and Care
Even though we might reside in different spaces
We are Human.
We breath passion to progress and live out the best
of days in our lives
Sending out just one signal
From The United States
To North Korea
To Russia
To Other Nations
People United
Never Divided
We shall one day
Hold hands
and United the World Through a Shining Light
That is True Heart and it's Shedding of light with the world
Next page