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Stop your regrets
sadness, worry, your presets.
Look up. Reform your mind.
Today is a new time
full of possibility
a festival of fertility
plug in to grace
quicken your pace
to the next frontier
put it in high gear
leave the desert of despair
breathe in the brisk fresh air
arise, emerge and begin
to believe again.

The present storms have gotten me down, my friends. I needed some fresh advice. And got it. Thanks for reading. I love you.
Zywa Feb 26
The sky is clear blue,

the day is new, I am free --

from expectations.
Personal transmission-composition "Occam ocean" for orchestra (2015, Éliane Radigue), performed in the Organpark on February 3rd, 2024, by ensemble ONCEIM (L'Orchestre de Nouvelles Créations, Expérimentations, et Improvisations Musicales) and others - @percussion, @brass section

Collection "org anp ark" #358
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Every facet within what you’re about to create
blooms from your consciousness, your subconsciousness
your ego, your mind, your heart

But where are those elements planted?
Where are they rooted?

They are rooted within:

your ethnocentric illusions
your lived reality
your privilege, your pleasure, your pain
your abilities, your disabilities
your socioeconomic status: have and/or havenot
your fluency, your empathy, your sense of humour
your vices and your storytelling devices

Now we've got some roots, what are we going to grow?
Let’s begin by observing, using our senses
Maybe, let’s use our eyes
Consider, the reality of how we see and sense the world
Is different for each and every one of us

Everything is tempered by the lens we use
Which is informed through the roots of our synapses
Which empirically flow from the subjective ground
On which we stand

And what does this have to do with poetry?
What you describe in your poem,
Is an interpretation of what you see (and feel)

Interesting poetry comes when
there is exploring to do
It is a poet’s imperative to
Explore the edges
Out past the boundaries of the visual and audible spectrum

If we were fish poet’s
Would we write poetry about water?

I like to toy with my teenagers on occasion
So I asked my son the other day, what his worldview was?
And I have been enjoying the vacuous silence ever since
To be fair, I have been asking myself the same question for many years
And this might have been the inciting incident leading me to storytelling

As we began this journey together, it was stated that
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Can you describe your context?

Let me attempt to describe mine:

Here I am on the stage in this ocean of air
At the Owl Acoustic Lounge
On a Wednesday night in May
Popping air with rhythm, nuance, and a certain je ne ce quoi

Although this poem is not objectively true
Let me attempt to share that
this poem blooms from my developing cosmology
From the overtures of my Overself;
from the undercurrents of the Monomyth,
From my ***** and through my groans of intercession
This poem blooms from oblivion
Threading through philosophy, to worldview, and into a budding cosmology

For myself:
Worldview fell away when I found cosmology while reconnecting with the night sky
That night sky took me places while grounding me concurrently in inner spaces
Where locating self flows into meta-cognitive health,
Well ... that is something to write about
Preparing for Shakaat Artist-in-Residency. Performed at the Owl Acoustic Lounge on May 24, 2023.
Its a sweetgrass serenade
singing up serotonin
through the cavalcades
and ramparts
that I have been using to
barricade my heart

It's a sweetgrass serenade
when I let those sweet words
slip off my tongue
just like syncopated honey
into the three-stranded braid
of me and you and Him
taking us into those outer places
where we can occupy other spaces

It's a sweetgrass serenade
on our journey to the moon
where I wonder who
is following me cause
on our way back

I'm feeling the exodus
of my past, you know
the part that
no longer serves me.

And in its place...

It's a sweetgrass serenade
singing up serotonin
filling up that empty pocket
with a force of positivity.

Looks like I found a Lifeway
time to let it shine and
step into deep play
Written in August 2019. Performed at open mic night at the Owl with the Lethbridge Poetry crew on August 29, 2019.
Zywa Jan 3
You more or less know

what kind of day it will be --

Now you colour it.
Collection "New Ago"
Zywa Oct 2023
From the storm, the flood,

washed ashore in the silence --

of the newborn day.
Collection "Changing Times"
They talk for a new day
But the Sun has already extinguished
And he's lost in an unidentified darkness
Where the Moon is present
But doesn't accompany him at all...

And those twinkling Stars
Seems nothing more than his fading heart
Yet he's crawling along that dark path
In the little hope of a new Moon's ray
But he's unknown that a distance of 3,84,400 Km gapping them apart...

Again in that blank darkness
He sees some rays but this time Red
Unaware of the danger, he continues to step ahead...
They tell him to bridge the gap between him and the Moon
But he's burning down all of the Bridges
And thinks, he's going to build something new...

But it's just a thought, so, he decides to recall, all the things...
Before he prepares himself to see his own downfall..!
spacewtchhh Aug 2022
My eyes forced open by the white noise of the radio.
It's 7:00. A new day has come.

I get escorted to the line to get a plate.
It's time for my breakfast.
Fill up my stomach without a daily appetite.

I surrender from the visiting room.
His face from the clear glass seems too pretentious
I can't even understand his speech through the telephone.

I try to go out to see the sun and it's scorching.
Play some sports with other striped people
And they get disappointed.
I try to say a prayer I can't finish.

It's just another day to do nothing.
I let myself be incarcerated.
In my head.
My Dear Poet May 2022
When she said “I love you”
the sun no longer shone
It exploded into fragments
across the beautiful blue sky
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