#spirt - Hello Poetry

I'm not there yet But soon in the story I'll see the infinity of it all See this body simply as a day In the experience Soon in the story I'll see no difference or space between us And realize it was conversations with myself I've made some **** good art I’ve made some eyesores I've done some horrible things I've saved countless lives I've killed this earth I've rebuilt and moved on I’ve come the conclusion I’ll never be gone

0

Sep 15, 2023

Sep 15, 2023 at 12:24 AM UTC

xjf

Soon

I'm not there yet But soon in the story I'll see the infinity of it all See this body simply as a day In the experience Soon in the story I'll see no difference or space between us And realize it was conversations with myself I've made some **** good art I’ve made some eyesores I've done some horrible things I've saved countless lives I've killed this earth I've rebuilt and moved on I’ve come the conclusion I’ll never be gone

19

and they began t' sing marching single file from the west no masqued men were these, these were Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories, now, approaching the old prosper-specter sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score, from the land of too much good stuff still, it's America, best effort men have made, up to now. The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year, 1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter, graced the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost their war and nobody cared, because every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth, where wishes can come true, and that place is in America as sure as blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant, Asrael and the others singing backup reload when you wish side-really… and a subtle shift in per spect capacity let be, just so, and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin writ large, we seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth. The elders who watched the roll-out. Aye, we watched us evolve to now our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what now, we can say. The seals have been broken. Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever, and ever, as you know it, began sometime agone afore in some direction beyond your ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood. What's in any name but what the namer seems? Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say, tell me what I say Hey Dancing shuffle footed single file pass the white shirt black tie messenger from the telestial king down Sonora way, via Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see come feel a boinin' in d' boosum through the very crystal lenses portal-ible model through which Joseph of the name Smith, -- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah-- -- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way -- sign out don't break the story through which Joseph of the name Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel, maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor, re-legate-- re-read- start at the top or all meaning is like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there, any more, than those wee merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple higgs-ified mind can manage to regulate without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning tattoo'd to the face in your mirror in the darkest memory you hold dear, dearest, your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well protect it for all its worth, with only your strength to lift being the measure of worth-ship. Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state, poor un-gifted. I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee, for whom the bell told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask. Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin', when you say you know that, you bet you do. I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says. The dragon died of natural causes, so now, all its true-sures is yers… Crown o'glory moon shine plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture imagined happy place to a T, crossed and I dotted Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks. This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro, as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms, the crucial critics rave Sheiszkunst, who Rah! isis throws a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned from the pig's sty packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once fed to swine. bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded hump-pack, he lifts his head, waves his crown, Fini, come see, he says. where I live, nowadays. This is that treasure, on another level as you may imagine, free, if you accept charity. {There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity; 'taint fair, s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a pearl in some pigsty, I PUT THAT PEARL THERE FOR THE FUTURE not now. I worked for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi. I hid them well, only a fool would ever believe a treasure could be found in such **** but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear, so when the pigshit hit it began to grow, sent a tendril to tickle a special spot, just above the left ear, right there, let's see diamonds, no pearls, any where we wish. Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on, this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor are safe and sound, free as me to pursue haps past the frozen disnified happy-ever-after WW2, in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves --- splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing, merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next is as you wish it were someday, but in its diapers, still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function, as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time, and another bubble appears, portalish as mine-craft if ever there were a subtle shifter of perception conspiring A.I. see a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by Lynning Skyward though a wave of old Radioman vibes, played with plastic spoons a famous peace march by Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll, sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure deep and wide, That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right arm dis allowing the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische ified in the one-armed bandits left behind, the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.

0

Aug 21, 2019

Aug 21, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC

kenpepiton

The Kachina passed by

and they began t' sing marching single file from the west no masqued men were these, these were Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories, now, approaching the old prosper-specter sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score, from the land of too much good stuff still, it's America, best effort men have made, up to now. The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year, 1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter, graced the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost their war and nobody cared, because every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth, where wishes can come true, and that place is in America as sure as blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant, Asrael and the others singing backup reload when you wish side-really… and a subtle shift in per spect capacity let be, just so, and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin writ large, we seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth. The elders who watched the roll-out. Aye, we watched us evolve to now our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what now, we can say. The seals have been broken. Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever, and ever, as you know it, began sometime agone afore in some direction beyond your ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood. What's in any name but what the namer seems? Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say, tell me what I say Hey Dancing shuffle footed single file pass the white shirt black tie messenger from the telestial king down Sonora way, via Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see come feel a boinin' in d' boosum through the very crystal lenses portal-ible model through which Joseph of the name Smith, -- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah-- -- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way -- sign out don't break the story through which Joseph of the name Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel, maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor, re-legate-- re-read- start at the top or all meaning is like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there, any more, than those wee merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple higgs-ified mind can manage to regulate without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning tattoo'd to the face in your mirror in the darkest memory you hold dear, dearest, your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well protect it for all its worth, with only your strength to lift being the measure of worth-ship. Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state, poor un-gifted. I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee, for whom the bell told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask. Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin', when you say you know that, you bet you do. I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says. The dragon died of natural causes, so now, all its true-sures is yers… Crown o'glory moon shine plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture imagined happy place to a T, crossed and I dotted Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks. This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro, as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms, the crucial critics rave Sheiszkunst, who Rah! isis throws a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned from the pig's sty packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once fed to swine. bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded hump-pack, he lifts his head, waves his crown, Fini, come see, he says. where I live, nowadays. This is that treasure, on another level as you may imagine, free, if you accept charity. {There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity; 'taint fair, s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a pearl in some pigsty, I PUT THAT PEARL THERE FOR THE FUTURE not now. I worked for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi. I hid them well, only a fool would ever believe a treasure could be found in such **** but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear, so when the pigshit hit it began to grow, sent a tendril to tickle a special spot, just above the left ear, right there, let's see diamonds, no pearls, any where we wish. Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on, this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor are safe and sound, free as me to pursue haps past the frozen disnified happy-ever-after WW2, in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves --- splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing, merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next is as you wish it were someday, but in its diapers, still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function, as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time, and another bubble appears, portalish as mine-craft if ever there were a subtle shifter of perception conspiring A.I. see a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by Lynning Skyward though a wave of old Radioman vibes, played with plastic spoons a famous peace march by Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll, sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure deep and wide, That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right arm dis allowing the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische ified in the one-armed bandits left behind, the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.

176

beauty is not defined by the colors of pigment you brush onto your skin to hide what you believe are flaws. its not defined by the fibers you glue onto your eye lids. nor the creams and glosses you swipe upon your lips. beauty is not defined by the skin tones that rest on top of your bones, or what colors of silk lay upon your head. beauty lies peacefully within the soul, mind, and spirit. you are beautiful.

0

Mar 22, 2019

Mar 22, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC

Lunawrenn

beauty

beauty is not defined by the colors of pigment you brush onto your skin to hide what you believe are flaws. its not defined by the fibers you glue onto your eye lids. nor the creams and glosses you swipe upon your lips. beauty is not defined by the skin tones that rest on top of your bones, or what colors of silk lay upon your head. beauty lies peacefully within the soul, mind, and spirit. you are beautiful.

11

“For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” Momma! Can you hear me? I can hear you singing through tears momma. Please don’t cry. It’s going to be ok momma. I’m not in the dark anymore. Here there’s only light, and plenty of room to run. Momma it’s amazing here!Everything is going to be ok. So please, please, please, momma, don’t cry, rest your head, let me sing to you. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” No one knows. No one knows the loss of my own body, the ripping and savagery that took my own flesh. The pain that blooded and caressed my thighs. They did no wrong, they hadn’t even breathed never the less committed a single sin. My beautiful, beautiful baby. did I do you wrong? Did your creation create a target on your head. A punishment for my sin. You didn’t deserve to be stripped of the earth, before you could even experience it. To be failed by the body that was supposed to love you the most. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” And I hold these red beads in my hands, thinking of that day when red was all I could see. Grasping this shield singing and praying for healing. Wondering who you could have been. Creating these ideas of who you would of looked like. If you would of had my brown curly hair and his silly smile. If you would have his musical genius and my creative brain. Thinking just how beautifully beautiful you would’ve been. Could you solve a math equation from the top of your head, would you sleep till noon like your father, or wake up early like me, would you continue the tradition and play tennis or would you create your own traditions, Would I walk you down the isle, or button up your tux? Oh my dear child you don’t even know what it would have been like to baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirt. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” Baby my sweet child, Why did you leave before I could even say your name? Why did you give into the white light and leave me with a scarlet pain? Did you sacrifice yourself to spare me of what life I would have lived with you in it? But I want you in my life. I dream of your ringing footsteps, of you crying out for me, of holding you to my breast and carrying for you with everything I have. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” Baby, I’m sorry I never got the chance to love you. But you’re not a baby anymore now are you, you’re my little angel. Sweet angel of mine, I’m sorry that I failed you. I’m sorry that I can’t internalize a reason for you death even though your death was internal for me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you the life that you deserved. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” My beautiful baby I love you till this day. You might be gone, but the idea of who you could have been lives on with me, forever. I’m sorry our love died I’m sorry that my body wasn’t strong enough to hold you. I was carrying so much, that it made me lose my everything that could of been you. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” I would have named you Mark or John, or Mary magdalin, I would have rocked you to sleep every night. Loved you with all of my heart, sing to you till your precious eyes closed, and I would be sure to let you know I loved you. I loved you while you were being formed, and I loved and I missed you while you were deformed. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” Baby, sweet child of mine, how could you have left when there is so much love left for you here with me. Why did you go home before I had the chance to make you a home of this world. Before I could even see your face before we could even given you a name. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” Precious little baby I know you’re at the gates of heaven, and I know you’re not mine, so all I ask from you is to send me a sign that you’re ok, that I can be ok without you. “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion Have mercy on us and on the whole world” But I lay here barren and empty. Scooped bare, and ripped apart internally. I have nothing to give you but my love. I will always love you. My sweet beautiful baby. And I will hold my hand to your previous home of my body and feel for your heartbeat, your sweet beautiful innocent heart beat and I will never forget you, the love of my life, the one I never knew.

0

Dec 29, 2018

Dec 29, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC

The supreme being. Space sightseeing. If I was, the creator and ruler, I wouldn’t be minuscular. Source of all moral authority. Power and superiority. If I was, the universal leader, I wouldn’t be a ******* Nature and human fortunes. Praise or reward the orphans. If I was, the worshiped spirit, I would be merit.

0

Apr 26, 2018

Apr 26, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC

shadow-dragon

Goddess

The supreme being. Space sightseeing. If I was, the creator and ruler, I wouldn’t be minuscular. Source of all moral authority. Power and superiority. If I was, the universal leader, I wouldn’t be a ******* Nature and human fortunes. Praise or reward the orphans. If I was, the worshiped spirit, I would be merit.

15

She was a piece of artwork who's blood ran cold radiant skin shining like the sun a raging mess of a hurricane with stormy grey eyes there was no smooth sailing and a beautiful flow of a waterfall natural silver clear water streaming through its calm journey she is a free spirt you can not cage under a gypsy spell casted under a moonlit reality under dancing rain

0

Mar 13, 2017

Mar 13, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC

stellula3nergy

Virgo Women

She was a piece of artwork who's blood ran cold radiant skin shining like the sun a raging mess of a hurricane with stormy grey eyes there was no smooth sailing and a beautiful flow of a waterfall natural silver clear water streaming through its calm journey she is a free spirt you can not cage under a gypsy spell casted under a moonlit reality under dancing rain

12

*the man of light knows darkness all to well he possess sacred knowledge of source a living experience with in radiant and self effulgent he knows all is permitted in the acculturated labyrinths of mind rooted in bias and incalculable distortions a hell house ride constructed of warbled mirrors Leprechauns gold an abusement park of crepuscular subconscious ethers and concertized form on shape shifting sands creativity gone mad where time undoes all its weary inhabitants worn they are the color of sleep attaining misguidance oh the vacuous business of guided meditations through azure skies and verdant fields while the certified uninitiated whisper their pale voices against sonorous winds as if they could lever boulders with broken twigs stone churches gothic crosses temples of man monoliths to the imaginary fantastical man god re-pleat with beard and cock....how quaint adulations and prostrations to there man made deity through myth that binds group think other directed un-individuated individuals like tribal ants a world of shattered light a white knuckle ride on a spinning mud ball yet who knows the secret of the inner light the illuminated door the portal through which Scottie will really beam you up The man of the mystic light in a darkened freakish world is he not an inconvenience like a mentor to the deaf dumb and blind he is rarely recognized almost never believed the light is not a metaphor the source that emanates all although formless and self effulgent it is not a religion yet all abide with in it in the dark funnel of conceit man turns everything into a noun as if naming is claiming when what he seeks is beyond for it is a great dimension of another order konx om pax light in extension*

0

Jan 9, 2017

Jan 9, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC

zebrablack

Konx Om Pax

*the man of light knows darkness all to well he possess sacred knowledge of source a living experience with in radiant and self effulgent he knows all is permitted in the acculturated labyrinths of mind rooted in bias and incalculable distortions a hell house ride constructed of warbled mirrors Leprechauns gold an abusement park of crepuscular subconscious ethers and concertized form on shape shifting sands creativity gone mad where time undoes all its weary inhabitants worn they are the color of sleep attaining misguidance oh the vacuous business of guided meditations through azure skies and verdant fields while the certified uninitiated whisper their pale voices against sonorous winds as if they could lever boulders with broken twigs stone churches gothic crosses temples of man monoliths to the imaginary fantastical man god re-pleat with beard and cock....how quaint adulations and prostrations to there man made deity through myth that binds group think other directed un-individuated individuals like tribal ants a world of shattered light a white knuckle ride on a spinning mud ball yet who knows the secret of the inner light the illuminated door the portal through which Scottie will really beam you up The man of the mystic light in a darkened freakish world is he not an inconvenience like a mentor to the deaf dumb and blind he is rarely recognized almost never believed the light is not a metaphor the source that emanates all although formless and self effulgent it is not a religion yet all abide with in it in the dark funnel of conceit man turns everything into a noun as if naming is claiming when what he seeks is beyond for it is a great dimension of another order konx om pax light in extension*

69

The music found in the silence is keeping me awake. I'm tangled in a quilt. I'm currently staring out my window, just me and the moon and the silence. It's not a full moon yet. but the moonlit shadows danced on my walls anyway. Theres just something beautiful about being awake and aware from sunset to sunrise. My thoughts are floating through space and my eyes are locked on the moon. Many souls all around the world are stepping into dreamland. And I decide to have another cup of coffee, filled with what it seems like endless scoops of sugar. As I sip my coffee I realize theres not a minute of sleep I will have till the next moonlight gleams

0

Oct 12, 2016

Oct 12, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC

stellula3nergy

Tuesday 1:27 am

The music found in the silence is keeping me awake. I'm tangled in a quilt. I'm currently staring out my window, just me and the moon and the silence. It's not a full moon yet. but the moonlit shadows danced on my walls anyway. Theres just something beautiful about being awake and aware from sunset to sunrise. My thoughts are floating through space and my eyes are locked on the moon. Many souls all around the world are stepping into dreamland. And I decide to have another cup of coffee, filled with what it seems like endless scoops of sugar. As I sip my coffee I realize theres not a minute of sleep I will have till the next moonlight gleams

1

Put my heart My soul My emotion into The divine Close my eyes Meditate inhale the positive Exhale the negative Listening to the birds singing there charmful tune The waves in water Moving smooth Reviving my soul At peace with myself Relaxing Clam clam thoughts Take me to serenity Erase the wounds with The pain I felt through the years and years of struggle Mishap Misunderstanding Before I get along with you First I got to learn my self Understand myself

0

Jul 30, 2015

Jul 30, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC

rashad-damon-hatcher

Clearing

Put my heart My soul My emotion into The divine Close my eyes Meditate inhale the positive Exhale the negative Listening to the birds singing there charmful tune The waves in water Moving smooth Reviving my soul At peace with myself Relaxing Clam clam thoughts Take me to serenity Erase the wounds with The pain I felt through the years and years of struggle Mishap Misunderstanding Before I get along with you First I got to learn my self Understand myself

21

My words will die with me silence will fall, the voice that was heard will be silent once more. I will fall to eternal sleep, my body will never again rise in the morning again. My eyes now forever closed, never to see the sun rise up or the sun sets fall. My soul has departed to that other place, my body no longer calling it home. My words will no longer be heard, but they can read my words, and you will get to know me even though I have long gone.

0

May 28, 2014

May 28, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC

poetic-t

Words Are All That Is Left When I'm Gone

My words will die with me silence will fall, the voice that was heard will be silent once more. I will fall to eternal sleep, my body will never again rise in the morning again. My eyes now forever closed, never to see the sun rise up or the sun sets fall. My soul has departed to that other place, my body no longer calling it home. My words will no longer be heard, but they can read my words, and you will get to know me even though I have long gone.

17

In mute fields of sun . . . Angels' wings hum from heaven, . . . Flock of swans fly by.

0

May 22, 2014

May 22, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC