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Poetry is news,
a glance,
into the awkakend minds
of planet Earth

we speak our truth
and read each other’s
brothers and sisters
of a conscious collective

A wild world,
needing change
and here we are
with simple text
a weapon,
a calling

These words here, are just as alive as me. I live on like you, cast through circuits of infinite internet and worldwide connection. Let us find love for one another, this strange humanity. Children of the universe, and of creation.

Forgive your family,
call your friends
tell them this:
there is a change coming
and the elite don’t see it
bonded with perspective
and united by fear
Individuals,
who said f*^k your system
friends of a foreign tongue,
revolutionaries
who see through illusions

war becomes like slavery
rejected and disgusting
the primitive ape
learned to see
from the other’s
perspective
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
“Come, all you who are thirsty,
    come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
    and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to Me, and eat what is good,
    and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to Me;
    listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
    My faithful love promised to David...”

Seek the LORD while He may be found;
    call on Him while He is near.
Let the wicked forsake their ways
    and the unrighteous their thoughts.
Let them turn to the LORD, and He will have mercy on them,
    and to our ***, for He will freely pardon.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways My ways,”
declares the LORD.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are My ways higher than your ways
    and My thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow
    come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
    without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is My word that goes out from My mouth:
    It will not return to Me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
    and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
You will go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
    will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
    will clap their hands.
Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,
    and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the LORD’s renown,
    for an everlasting sign,
    that will endure forever.”


~ New International Version
***
fingers touched in darkness
trembling, unsure,
seeking the light
two hands crossed
fathomless distances,
skimming stars
through formless infinity

a voice spoke in the darkness
to touch a face
drowning in shadow
a voice called out a name,
a soul awake
answered back
in kind
Aditya Sep 25
A  Tunnel  shielding  my  Battle,
Is  there  Light  or  a mere  Illusion?
Concealing  every  emotion  and  Struggle,
A  Mind  in  pursuit  of  a  Revolution.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel until you seek the truth. Open your mind (tunnel) to new possibilities and fight your battle to experience the revolution you desire!
There are days in which my mind seeks poetry
Poetry of all forms and aspects,
Poetry in its truest, simplest form
In a form only I can feel

A poetry of free formity, balance, and stature
That equates to thoughts and structures
Of my free mind

There are days in which the poetry I seek doesn’t reach me
Just existing as a mere thought
Through which I wonder,
Will my poetry ever reach me?
Ken Pepiton Aug 18
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this is rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>

A sunder mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.


----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Janna Jul 31
The hand of my Creator
Was knocking on the door step
Of my heart
Patiently waiting
Always seeking
His lost daughter and child
To return into His mighty arms
- soulwriterj
I found my way back home.
hazael-fae Jul 25
Strangely your existence feels familiar
yet this  feeling so peculiar
my soul almost echoing in a rhythm
filling the kingdom
which is us
yet your name is anonymous
a connection endless in time
someday a souls intimacy will shine
evolving metamorphosing into one
together shining bringer than the sun
vivid colors of your soul
raveled energies whole
shared breaths bring me life
when will you drive
ill put my trust in the breeze
your somewhere within the trees
vowels spoke drift in the wind
someday our synchronized energy will be aligned
until time..
Krishnapriya Jul 19
We travel the world
searching
book to book, blog to blog
Guru to guru, mentor to trainer
Looking, finding, losing

Ultimately return
Empty handed

Only to find it all
And then some more
In the secret
smile
of the heart
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