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Derrick Jones Apr 2021
The mystic missed the mist

For he was focused on the most

The waterfall, the all, the awe

No longer just the grist, the gist

He was the mill, the real, the wheel

No longer knowing, he could fully feel

Past the taste, the snack, and to the meal

So freely given he could not hope to steal
Thank you for being. If you would like to see more of my poetry, essays, and other writings, check out my blog on Medium:
Derrick Jones Mar 2021
Sun and moon

Flower and bloom

This is a cartoon

But also in tune

With reality

The stream flowing freely

Merrily, dreamily

The me flowing me-ly



We are Grist for the Mill

That’s the gist, I’m just a shill

In the mist, I don’t shoot to ****

I aim my arrow with love

To heal, I wield this skill

And I point my pistol high into the sky

I will throw away my shot

Again and again

So that others know where to aim

I am but a photon blasting into and out of the sun

I am all and I am one

Just begun, yet fully spun

Not just having fun, I am become
Thank you for being. If you would like to see more of my poetry, essays, and other writings, check out my blog on Medium:
Leo Jan 2020
Spinning mad futile psychoses delusional disorder persecutory follow me follow me follow me

Crucify crucify crucify

The lions are at the gates

The LIONS are at the GATES

Please — please, PANIC

They asked for volunteers and you swore


And here you are exposing the secret belying the deepest chasms of affinity for nothing be nothing be nothing be nothing

Thirty pieces of silver is too much

The LIONS are AT the GATES


They told you it would ****

They told you what it felt like to be dissected on a molecular level — to plummet headlong through a blackhole out from the context of what has been and into the being of all that will ever


And here we are — here I am alone


And we’ve lost another solider to cafeteria food and freshly waxed vinyl flooring and the smell of unscented soap and non-alcoholic hand sanitizers and the taste of Bob Barker toothpaste that fills your mouth as you scrape your maw with ironlike hard plastic bristles and the sound of a door propping open as you shower to make sure you’re not hanging from the curtain and the taste you get on the back of your tongue when you feel the air that is so stale from locked windows and doors it makes you feel nauseous thinking about it and the girl in the corner of the room who colors and you know that she swore too you know that she swore too you know that she swore too because you were there

And I am left


I should have known.
They told me it would **** when they asked for volunteers.
Inspired by a friend
Nico Allentine Oct 2016
That appears to be part and parcel with this human incarnation
My ego cuts ME off with no oxygen
I? Flail and wail like a child whose lost his mother
A fish in a world meant for another species entirely
I dissolve, evolve and transcend my shape to embrace
Not only you but the I in you and the you in me and the never-ending connectivity of human consciousness.
Awaken and its as if I've fallen into a nightmare, a terror so vivid
More real than reality.
Alas it is reality and I am awake and dead
And so are you.
Though still alive, ironically in loss of a body
I feel my connection, my mother, my father, my familia in the plants.
With the animals.
With the humans and their complex struggle
Divided always , but entirely one within themselves
The world at large
When disengaged from ego, re-engaged with the World Soul
The loving awareness that you really are
Always was and will always be
Forever and ever
Completely not reliant on any outside forces.
In the sense of the verb as well as the noun.
When disengaged from ego, re-engaged with the World Soul.

— The End —