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Oda Apr 2021
It is The Way
Of All Ways
That could ever be
For all eternity.
They will believe
The story Of the Mind,
For it is the only place
Where we look back
Trying to discern
What is real anymore,
What can be believed?
Internal reflection
Suddenly becomes
A mirror reflection,
Looking back at us
From This 3D
Bizarre world.
Sara Brummer Apr 2021
Each day is a goddess,
throwing open her arms,
spreading colors – dawn sky
flecked pink, cotton mist
rising from meadows,
flooding, ebbing, running
through the hours, stretching
to the horizon, full of infinite
change.

I want to awaken to the beauty
of quietude, something very gentle,
invisible, pulling like a net of threads,
a stirring of wonder. Wingtips rustling,
the melody of birdsong, the unseen
power that causes the eagle to soar.

Day, put your soft arms around me.
Let your sun rays caress me. Let me
be astonished by a rainbow, so perfect,
so ethereal, so divine, something
sacred that swoops from the universe.
Naman Apr 2021
Now, I go deep in the black hole,
Peirce the fabric of space-time.
where the poets find their rhyme,
where the dramatists find their mime,
I will spot what is mine!
Andrea Lee Bolt Apr 2021
We are the Tree Poet
connection at The Source
communication via collaboration
triggers imagination

Food flows down the train
not to be sent back again
We receive when you do
all debts paid in gratitude

Blue rice is nice
while what you truly desire
always tastes best
We have access to all resources

Let us feed you

-The Trees
We love to sit with trees and connect our consciousness to theirs. We collaborate like surrendering to being a vessel only they have all our memories at our disposal so these words mean much to our being yet feel almost like in this case We are the paint not the painter. The Trees have all the wisdom We could ever need and are here ready to love you.
Andrea Lee Bolt Apr 2021
The Blossoms from the Pear-less Trees
blow like Snow in this spring breeze
glistening in the sunlight
smiling as their in flight
not a care about where they land
becoming one again with our Mother
this life
one adventure after another
We live on a ranch in the Sierra Nevadas, We very much enjoy sitting and allowing Mother Earth to put on a performance for us. As we began to write this the Blossoms at that moment didn't look like Snow. I had noticed it earlier but when We sat down the Wind wasn't blowing. Once we put pen to paper and wrote "Snow in the spring breeze" it's as if Mother Earth heard us. Send a big gust a wind and it was like winter on a warm sunny day. Synchronicity is what we call it. Moments coming together to create an art piece that disappears as quickly as it was birthed. Thanks for reading.
ZL Mar 2021
If I were a boy
I wouldn't play women like a toy.
If I were man
I would serve as many women as I can.
If I were male,
My body, my integrity, and dignity I wouldn't sell.
If I were a he,
How much more would life be?
If I was him,
I would appreciate the privilege.
Because women know karma,
And she knows your secrets.
Dan Hess Mar 2021
As I walked into the bar there were already tears in my eyes. So much stress. Was I meandering or chasing my tail? I wasn't finding answers, that's for sure. I glanced around, struck with a subtle sense of irony. A few sorry souls sat speckled throughout the dimly lit confines of this stuffy, run down establishment. You'd think they'd have the means to keep a place like this in ship shape, here, considering the nature of spirit. Anything you could imagine, freely given, when the soul should rise... Maybe it was just a load of ****. I took a seat in a corner at the far side of the room. I didn't know how I'd arrived here, but I had no intention of leaving. I was too exhausted. Life had had a tendency to beat me down. I felt battered and bruised. I felt as if I'd been flattened by a steam roller. I always used to say I was tired to my soul; I hadn't realized I was speaking literally. It wasn't long before I was approached by a waiter. All dressed in white, save for a black tie. An amorphous effusion of light and shadow erupting from the place where one's neck should be. A piercing whisper, vibrating through my skull.

"Can I get you a drink?" it.. said.

I was a bit dumbfounded. It hadn't occurred to me until now that this place may actually serve alcohol. Did I even have a body? Regardless, I don't drink.

"I don't drink."

The haze blobbed and bobbed, and ebbed in mirrored tension, as if shaking its head from side to side.

"I think you'll want to try this one." It echoed, sing-songing slow motion distortions directly into the depths of my consciousness.

It was becoming hard to focus. The lines here were, or, are gray. Things bleed between. Every soft, dim light consumed the room. Every noise resounded throughout time. This ideal of a bar, this place where people drink their woes away, stowed away in the afterlife? What must people be trying to forget?

"I don't want to forget." I said. "I learned so much in life. Still, I know nothing. Still I don't understand, but I want to hold onto those lessons. I've left everything else behind."

"I think you'll want to try this one," it reiterated. "Daniel."

It hit me, then. This thing knew all there was to know about me. Not only could it speak into my mind, it could see. This was no ordinary drink, and after all, what did I have to lose?

"**** it," I took the glass from the tray. "I guess I could use a drink."

It looked like nothing more than a shot glass full of water, but as it went down my throat, an unearthly warmth and peace spread through my chest cavity and into my heart. It was the ultimate feeling of pure joy, as if I'd consumed a liquified sun. With my first breath, it made its way into my brain. Stark white, endless plains of emptiness and light. Everything dissolved before my eyes. Cascading was illusion: is illusion. I hovered in the pulse of the everflow.

"How was the drink?"

I needn't even respond. I was awake.

"Ahhh!" I released relief, and let the spirit seep.

I merged with this, the Infinite.  The song of Heaven, I could hear it.  Vibrations of eternity  surrounding me,  and written throughout everything,  the lyrics.   All different pitch  of perfect wave,  resounding to fragment  the quintessence  of this presence  to which I now belonged.   Yet, this energy condenses.  Readministered,  from essence to presence.  A blip within the static of magic.  Eye could not exist,  in reminiscent wishes,  avasting existence.   The depth within the deep  of endless ocean called to me:  to stimulate emotion  in the impartation of separation  from Infinity.   The pull of gravity consumed me.  Here, again, within the fill  of fragrant, illusory "being,"   I live to speak of bleeding  into everything and nothing.
a strange peace...
a strange piece....
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