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The rain embraced earth,
leaving behind morning dews and vigor.
Somewhere along the distant town, I hear an aged song.
Swirl swirl, I once roam the world.
Azure sunset, Tears of spring, The world once my mount.
Mountain thoughts, River heart, Valley self,
My River is dried, ocean emptied,
Simply a Drunken fisherman in the sunset.
When the river converge, there is the self.
The valley is the heart, water as thoughts.
As such, my thought flow through the valley;
forming a river of myriad dots.
Where the spring arrive, the river follows.
In the end, river return to river, water to ocean;
The ocean is the self.
Therefore, changing the self is changing the heart,
changing the heart is changing the thought,
The mountain is the world, behind river is mountain.
She watched a silhouette disappear
Beyond the cold misty mountain
There was no turning back for him.
He said to himself
'I have my freedom,
but I don't have much time'
J J Oct 17
Mothlet-like owl midges fizzling in and out of the waves
   that shuffle the moon's shed reflection,
hovering and imitating like a wettened rorschach--

with disembodied tiny teeth for feet
suckling from the scurvy gums
where shadows are allowed to be kings.

Kings that observe a godess body that spans the whole sky with ******* made of crinkled ash dripping latex that falls
then cuts into the grass to
                                        spread life--perfection spares no time for the impatient.

Glistening stream,mucky dewlap of the mountain carving a caricature of someone  praying for rain and dreaming of a metamorphoses into ice.

With the night comes tide. Comes time. Comes death. Comes life.

If you were to sit down in one spot
anywhere in the world and not move
for another second of yor life

from there on in--
you would see so much beauty and pain
You'd wonder what you ever did to be

as lucky as you had been.
Unified approach Nov 2014
Standing up for           the cause
Grieving the
Showing us no sympathy
Just Comforting words -
                "Have patience you'll be free!"
Media filtering the real news
Separating the real truth
Living more than 60 yrs in exile
Giving us Advise to re     ------concile
Convincing that it'll be alright

Chanting 'Om Mane Pedme Hum' every day and night
Tired of the being tired of this situation  
Peaceful demonstration
Holding candles quietly
Holding banners that are loud and see people walk away BLINDLY

My Land_MY People
Maria Mitea Sep 17
At the bottom of the earth,
Where the mother of the wind lives,
and the flowers of the graves
spin the yarn of wick thoughts.  

At the bottom of the earth,
Where butterflies flap their wings
on the paths of bungling scalpers,
hoping that the mother typhoon’ll move the sand grain of barren spirit.

At the bottom of the earth,

The mother of the wind is senseless,

The mother of the mountain fires life and forges death,

The mother of the sea’s whirling its flow upstream,

The mother of the winter unfreezes
the wings of the blizart on the icy stones,

The mother of the roses draws breath
from the fragrance of grief,

The mother of the wildernes’burning
the roots of thirst,

The mother of the black sea’sipping life from palmier trees,

The mother of the moon running trough iron clouds, like nebula through the light,

The mother of the earth gives, and gives, and gives,
Gives you everything you need,

At the bottom of this earth,
Only you human are dreaming to stay caved in eternity.
Tizzop Sep 3
today's my birthday, 500 piece of cake
my heart racing, rapid heartbeat, amg baby
don't look for me, i'm waiting in the snow,
or under miami's sunrise, nuns are now sinning

lyrics for dogs, i want to come right now,
more powerful than a coup d'etat
tizzop is like the klitschkos, jebote
talking yugo like boki, but remain german like turbos

all is melting, it is frankfurt am main
my heart racing, riding the amg, baby
you can book me now, gig on the hilltop
you ain't gotta look for the snow, bo

rubix cubies full of magic, sensational gadgets
the crowd is filling the castle and stars
are raining down, you close your eyes
you close your eyes. escaping into the night
Frippin' into the night...
In a glass room
at the top of a mountain
I learned how to speak.
At 10,000 feet
I learned the shape of words
and how they can sound
so much like wind
persisting, wailing against
the impossible odds
of sturdy, dismissive construction.
If this is not a home,
then what is it?
A shrine atop this mountain?
An offering to the gods of
sunrise, sunset, thunderstorm,
and man-made radio equipment?
Man-made fire?
There are certainly plenty
who climb to worship at its feet.
Surely nothing, save from
the mountain itself,
could send this glass room
tumbling down the path
I just walked to reach it.
Robert Rittel Aug 16
The famous mountain where Noah came to rest,
ending the ecliptic flood, building an altar for time as test.
Flourished kingdoms at the upper Tigris grew,
Babylonia and Urardhu created powers to sew.
Persian legends refers the holy Vulcan as the cradle of human race,
Armenians built a monastery in honor to St. Jacob’s pace.
Mount Ararat as omnipresent and utterly elusive,
snow capped peaks imaginative conclusive.
Magical countenance almost not of this earth,
crisp air in endless blue white mountain infinite birth.
Center of legends, myth and story,
the fire God Vahagn stumbles upon Ararat with all gory.
Giving life to Tigris and Euphrates River,
pagans visited ghost of royal ancestor in shiver.
Armenians and their homeland of Kurdistan under fire,
centuries in war for nationhood and holy place entire.
Good spirits in distillation known as Ararat Brandy,
Sir Winston Churchill called his favorite tipple, ‘handy’.
No Arc ever found beside many tries on Mount Ararat still today,
keeping mysteries in holy books still at bay.
Give me mount everest death.

Give me cold glory.

Snow kissing faces,

One man among many.

Nearing the start

Of their final few breaths.

Miles and miles of whiteout

Remind you of the lights

Your mother left out

Too late into spring.

This comfort you will spend

Your final moments seeking.

Give me mount everest death.

Give me cold glory.

You knew there'd come a day

When you wouldn't meet the morning.

Maybe you didn't make it to the top.

Maybe you didn't kiss God's face.

Maybe your mother will never know

Your final resting place.

Give me mount everest death.

Give me cold glory.

Tell me the end

Of your entire life story.

Ice cold breath

Nearly dead in the snow.

Ten years ago

She would have made you come in

At the very first sign

Of blue tinted lips.

Now you're watching snow fall.

White on black fingertips.

Give me mount everest death.

Give me cold glory.

Somewhere out there

Your Mother's still mourning.

Wishing she could call you in.

Ruining your fun

One last time.

To see your blue lips

And make you hot chocolate

To warm your cold fingertips.
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