"aspiration" poems
I left my home in the name of education
I left my hometown in the name of higher education
I left my state in the name of graduation
I left my family in the name of aspiration
At times, I miss my childhood
Although, the fun & friends weren't the same in my adulthood
In order to get rid of their falsehood
I left them too, for my own good
I have traveled so far away from home
Now, When I let my thoughts to roam
All they bring back is sadness and pain
And then, I left my tears to drain
I lost myself in this whole journey of life
There were times when I often looked for a knife
Not just to **** me but to end the pain
I left everything and I'm waiting for a magical rain
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes
another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see
for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes
for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils
As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does
Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed
Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee
eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes
come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee
This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs
Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam
Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex
but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes
perchance unlike you common goons, she knows distinction has no comparison to thee
Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms
Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee
so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches
we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas
in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah
for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes
Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we
lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches
indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea
and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies
It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence
Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
‘We live with forest’ and ‘forest live with us’!
Tallest tree of the forest is the symbol of our hope,
The Python is our messenger of past,
Blossoming flower of grassland are our depiction of smile,
Birds are the our fortune teller,
Earthworms are our marker,
Butterflies are our messenger of worship,
We design our life with them,
They are our image of clan and family,
We can’t live without them,
Our aspiration is tuned with their respiration,
We are cheerful with them!
***
Now, out of the blue, you arrived
and say we are poor!
So, you will build industry for us and give job to us!
But for that,
You occupy our land, our forest, our friends and respiration,
We never thought!
‘You are such a pitiable’
That you can’t build anything without our forest,
But you say, ‘we are poor’!
****
Please, go away from our blessed place
Don’t wipe out our friend!
We are rich and happy with the blessing of our friend
There is no need of your industry,
Please go away
Leave us alone we will design our destination.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Sometimes I ask myself
when did my thoughts and hopes of blue and green
turn into violet worries, violent dispositions
When did this soul with its empty bookshelf
burn all its unwritten scripts of things yet to be seen
and my steady solace turn into a contradiction
I know what I want in life
when I see my favorite pieces of art
scattered accross the canvas of my solitary nights
my cold fingers once touched it and I can count it on all five
I want to believe that I'd be content with really only a shard
to know my dreams aren't just made of imaginary sights
My open heart drives me
in uncertain directions with clear aspiration, sometimes just insane
but always looking, always wanting, always one heart ahead
If my eyes could only look beyond uncertainty and I'd finally see
a way that goes far and will let me travel along a green country lane
If I could feel as if I'd know why it seems so difficult not to be dead.
In everything that had to be broken and shed
these distant promises on remote and empty shores
For only the contingency of all that could be good and whole
Truly not knowing where this road might have led
and still keep my hands open and reaching and breathe in deeply through all of my pores
let me just find one wholesome and abiding content in this burning library inside my soul
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
Come Sincerity
Come aspiration
Come illumine my soul in ineffable ways.
Be receptive to the light my coy soul ere you sway,
For Ruffled respulsive is the vital
Guarding the hallway.
Come sincerity
Come aspiration
Come illumine my soul in ineffable ways
For I must serve the divine
Pure resolute,myriad ways.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
i am tired of fighting, i am too old, i’ve seen too much
i am throwing down my weapon, i surrender, **** me if you must have blood
i don’t care anymore, i don’t remember what i am fighting for, i just want to go home.
put this war behind me, live to love, not to **** not to die, for what purpose, for what god.
who will commemorate our battles, and those who have died just yesterday
who will remember our names, aspiration, dreams once we are dead
we are disposable, born to **** then die, who cares, why care, we served your purpose
we are the pawns, expected to die for the greater good that we can not have
look at your lives, was it worth it, how do you honor Them, those who died, so you can live
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
*rocks don't care
all stubble and stones
a difficult geometry
so if they don't fit
they are hammered
and
crushed to rubble
jammed together to make virile walls
and if stabbed with swords
care not about
torn bellies and broken necks
soaking them crimson rust
or drowned nautilus
beneath the sea
humans
have futility in common with rocks
except that everything
girds and gnaws
at their belligerent sensitivity
all clouded soft towers
bi-pedal mortal spires
with tender flesh
beaten into place
lacerated
truncated amputees
to fit the outer life
of status and statues
a scandal to the inner coves of self
I'm envious of rocks
except for moments of
shifting watery kisses
clamorous for love
we remain
disfigured terrains
hunters of souls balmy unguents
while
fluctious immolating moons
unravel
in a hidden grieving
oh countenance of apathy
only to be more like you
a wilderness of stumps
and
dead rock gods
and our aspiration
indifference
our exit
the path of the renunciate
a penitence
feasting only on futility
and the vagaries of spirit*
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
The eyes should be on the target only after opting the goal
"Be Like Cheetah"
-ARAVIND BHARGAVA
"Cheetah getting famished sets the ambition to chase a Deer,
Doesn't stop until the purpose is clear,
Doesn't gets confused by seeing an animal in the middle,
Achieves the goal and makes the deer to *******
You are the Cheetah and deer is the goal,
Other goals are animals in a whole,
Concentrate only on the purpose you have chosen,
Make the goal for you to be frozen.
Frame the aspiration by yourselves you had,
Detach negative from mind which is bad,
Attention only on the ambition you designated,
Do not lose confidence even if you are underestimated,
Add courage, trust, and determination to your mind,
Do not cease until everything is fined.
Be like a cheetah, contrive goals
And be successful in life"
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
/ beelzebub
*(given employs the spider a posteriori
and spiderweb a priori, and then back
into a bicemeral reverse psyche-analogy -
the id est contra the id erat -
but there is no latin revival -
given that the latin encoding has been
translated into a.i. algorithms...
forget putting the pandora
into a box into a box into a box,
into an etc. or what is a russian
cultural artefact... forget it...
a black fly would not take upon
itself to make a dustbin, a *******
maggoty brothel, like a green bottle fly
might... black flies have character,
style...
they're the ones that take
to tango, with spider architecture,
akin to the theological spider analogy
about an ad infinitum a priori argument)*:
a bit like watching
a black fly - "washing" itself -
rubbing it's front limbs
together, "attempting"
to start a fire...
god, those awful
green bottle hypers -
with maggot excesses -
in a potential well
expressed into practice -
black flies?
i can entertain them -
like i might entertain spiders
that do not require aquariums -
the non-exotica types...
so i sometimes find myself
rubbing my hands together,
like a catholic amounting
to an altruistic prayer symbolism...
so kommen faust,
so kommen faust,
so ist pseudo-faust -
or rather:
england?
deutschland jr.
america?
deutschland sr.
and if that wasn't the case?
oh me, little old slavic
babuшka...
i still can't explain rubbing
my hands together,
like a black fly might...
keeping standards of where
to take a maggoty dump's
worth of procreation value...
black flies?
compared to the others?
the priests of the whole
spectrum...
i sometimes wish they were
red,
so i could call them: the cardinals...
alas...
not to be, god said otherwise...
but i can fathom the priesthood,
like i can fathom -
an aspiration of a sleeping
samurai, devoid of the zodiac
delusion,
encouraged to make
chiromancy initiatives
(readings) to alleviate,
******** monotheism.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
The voyage is set to begin
Behind the battle line
Lingering with aspiration
Billions of others
Just like me
The desire to achieve this feat
Trespass the Zona
Break it free
An amorous key
Essential to transcribe
Me to thee
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
I was on the way to find out my destination,
It was a rugged terrain without shed of trees on the road side,
Burning Sun shine on the top of my head and
Stony patches below my foot,
On a junction of the two roads,
You came out!
With …..
“Generous green of forest in our face,
Deepest blue of ocean in your eyes,
Melodious wind of mountain valley on your hair and
Splendid light of the don on your smile”,
As if this new path after this junction
going to lead me to the nature’s own womb.
Conversely, when we face each other you asked
‘Who I am?’ and ‘where I am going to?’
I was surprised; no one poses such questions to me on this long walk,
But I have already comes a crossed the Security man with gun in their hand,
The Beggar with stony beggaring plate in their hand,
The Food vendors with hot food in their basket,
The Knowledge tycoon with bag of books on their shoulder,
The Political guardian with embryonic power in their muscle,
No one asked any thing!
Not even look at me!
Probably for them either ‘I was insignificant or invisible!’
But your questions,
Compel me to think about my identity,
I don’t have a search engine,
to take help from the world wide web of identity,
So, when observing you with sensors of Imagination, Emotion and Cognition,
I found my lost identity in you,
As your child everything rooted in you,
Than I started to walk with you
Just to get the aspiration of living planet and
To protect you from the spite of ownerships, rationality, consumerism,
and demonstrationist humanity.
But after a while,
Every one started to pose question,
“Who I am?”
“Why I am walking with you?”
“How I get the right to do so?”
Than I replied my scruples enlighten me to do so!
No one understands ‘what I replied?’
Now the Political guardian of the society starts a campaign,
The knowledge baron prepared software for this operation,
The beggar and food vendor distributing the literature with illustrative interpretation,
That…..
“People like me are threat to the society”!
“This is an evil force of our society”!
Tomorrow…..
The security man going to declare a ‘decree’ on
Emotion, Conscience, Humanity and Love. □□
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
Please forgive my hesitation
at instigation of flirtation.
Did I ensure my elimination?
My romantic assassination?
I'll gladly partake in any placation,
for any chance of indoctrination
to the centralization of your concentration.
An operation of admiration.
A correlation of inflammation.
Your gravitation brings animation,
exclamation and elongation.
My specialization is duration.
Not to hint at a connotation,
but I feel a certain **********
by an obligation to a certain destination
where your presentation gives me restoration.
Petrification?
Total mind evacuation?
Would clarification bring fascination?
Stimulation!
Salivation!
Gratification!
Insinuation of fornication?
A simple salutation to syncopation.
Would a single bright carnation
be enough of a motivation,
for a two way relocation?
Would poetic recitation
be sufficient lubrication
for collaboration?
A consolidation?
Or an exacerbation of isolation?
Please hold no reservation,
I've only got one aspiration.
To achieve a higher elevation;
by means of inhalation,
or a certain recreation
involving a bit of perspiration
along with physical communication.
Does this seem such a bad situation?
Or are you ready for pure elation?
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:56 PM UTC
ARTERY CONFESSION.
_Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night._
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. _which he ought to water to flowery_ _And fruitage._
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, _with the fishes abiding therein,_ _as stars, moon,_ and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.
_his love to her can simply easily be compared to_ _GOD's towards mankind._
So he confessed and rendered his heart to her. _Like a teeming downpour upon earthen soften, it surface._
so her love compassed his heart comforting, _like pabulum to mind._
As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,
_gory to glory._ _He so_
Much love her and
really ready,
_in for her, fell in the water._
Lost and found with her for ever. _He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart._
because he see her heart compatible to his.
_Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes._ While talk through night, dusk till dawn,
_Remembered promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell._
*Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her ******* _how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure._
His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she _told him that after her_
momma he be next to her.
_She call him dad he call her Mami._ Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
_His young blood can't either forget her memories,_
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
_is all about thee._ _Can't forget_
her, _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. _He truly loves her because he knew she'd make a good mother,_
Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. _So remember he always told her_
that he will always be there for her as time,
_even in the world after here._ _Her love is so good to him_
She has the key to his heart.
_reminisce she told him she'd_
_rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side._
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. _His aspiration_
all is found in her, _all in ONE no one else but she._
She source the past time joy and still the reason _for today's and the hope_
of tomorrow's glee.
Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
_His mary, his eve and soulmate._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
You think you know me.
I think I know you.
We know nothing
As we move forward
Slouched in our office chairs of despair
Some moving full throttle, the others stay still
Still
All in the same place
All at the same level
The illusion of movement
Competitiveness run amok and awry
An experiment gone wrong
An experiment in our endless longing, our search
Our eventual journey
As we seek greatness and perfection
While shattering the thought of it.
We have been taught to question
Questions bring greatness
Greatness is what we long for
Greatness has been subjugated
No longer an aspiration, but a trade
Not a product of inspiration
But a product of greed
Art is dead
Love is dead
All is dead
What once was an abstract concept
Is now concrete
And invisible
Nothing
A black hole
Constructed from the shattered hopes and dreams
Of millenials and those who felt like we do throughout history
What does "millenial" mean anyway?
In every context it encapsulates
Consumerism
Greed
Selfishness
Hypocrisy
Art is dead
Love is dead
All is dead
And we killed it
We dealt the death blow.
We lack heart
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with greatness
Greatness comes from accomplishments
Accomplishments come from knowledge
Knowledge comes from aspiration
Aspiration comes from inspiration
Inspiration...
comes from the metaphysical heart
The hollow men had no soul
and neither do we
We lean together
We do not embrace
We do not take the next steps
Only leaning
We lack what we need to see it through
We are incapable of maintaining relationships.
For our stamina is gone
In its place, divorce, infidelity,
shallowness
relationships based on looks and dreams
dreams of perfection
based on the wrong definition
We are the hollow men
We are hollow
We are... despairing
Despair
why would we despair?
if we did not care?
are we then hollow?
if we worry,
is that not out of concern?
is concern
not out of love?
does love...
not stem from the heart?
Sometimes I wonder
Can you still have a heart
If you have a mind in the way?
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
Tell me why it has to be this way. I don’t want to hold on to one side of this conversation and have the other person falling off a ladder. Yeah, down there on the ground. Get up and look at me!
I wasn’t sleeping, I swear—he said hastily.
Yeah, whatever, buddy. Tell me what you’re doing in my head?
Repainting. Repainting over the old spots, the worn out spots.
But those are the best spots, the only ones with character. Can you tell me who sent you?
No sir, I cannot.
Then it is ok. I suppose I’ll have to watch as you put varnish on top of every dream and aspiration I have ever had. Do you know who the girl was that I first loved in the springtime of youth’s blossom?
It was Ashley, sir.
I believe I did not love her, guest worker. What are you wearing there?
A pair of overalls, a cape. What’s the difference?
I’m the one who speaks to you first, and don’t be short with me. I don’t like you standing there in an open room with no windows. How is that possible?
I’m sorry, boss. It’s just, I finished painting over that memory but the paint’s still wet. You loved her very much, I’m afraid.
Ashley? I never gave her a second thought. Perhaps you are right. I only remember kissing her shyly and asking permission to see her ******* They were the biggest of all.
Yes sir, I thought so too. She was a sweet girl though.
Sweet? I’ll tell you Mr. Painter; Ashley was the first girl I kissed. I kissed her in my first love’s house, a different girl. I loved Ashley more than that first love and I’m serious. No one can ever make me forget the day we lay on her mother’s sofa in the basement.
--I’m sorry, sir.
No, say it is impossible. Say you have some form of soap that can make up for your treachery!
No, I’m only wearing orange overalls and marching on the word from above.
But who sent you!!!? I have to know. I’m crying.
Justin, it’s ok. It’s Ashley. She said you need to stop crying. She has a family now.
Well, alright. That house. That basement. That unconscious.
We are worms, sir. Worms, slithering and boundless. Please accept my apologies.
No, it’s quite alright. If you must take every memory of my second love, take my third. And take my fourth and every other woman who crosses my path. It’s not my choice to keep them captive in the imagination of what could have been. You know, it’s been years since I truly cared about someone—
Since Ashley?
Who’s that?
Ashley.
Goodbye forever, harlot.
Sir, you’re being brash.
No, I don’t remember that name and I hold you at an arm’s length in my mind. Please, finish what you’re doing and allow me to rest. What color are you painting the room?
Green, I’m afraid.
Then so it is. Goodbye, good friend. Goodbye sweet love. Forever, in the spring. Temporal boundaries and endless playlists. Be the verve, be the melody. I love you!
So it is. Sleep well, sir.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
We've been walking
Underneath these city lights
For far too long.
That we forget
The grass is a mother's breast,
Soft as the night she was married,
They are calling you home.
Home to the tree that you breathe from.
Home to the noose that you swing from.
The North East is so cold,
And it's not just the weather.
It's a place where
Even the clouds are
Robbed of their ability
To soak in the sun.
Where every
"Promise me this"
Is the chain to a boulder,
Where even eagles
Acquire a taste for flesh.
You would think
That in a place with so much fire,
You would feel a beating heart
Inside the pebbles skipping.
Across a sea of people,
On the day that your
Aspiration became dreams.
We are all human,
But not everybody wants to be-
Some of us want wings
Made from candles,
but never really learned how to swim.
-come.
A little closer.
Let the fire in our bellies
Melt our cities into ashes,
We will take them to our mother,
And ask if we can come
Home.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Losing a tail
Is like losing a rudder
Like losing a ballast
Stability must be found elsewhere
As a quadruped there are four points of contact
A biped has only two
How do we replace that stability?
With aspiration
~ Extinct ~
**** erectus*
and
**** neanderthalensis*
~ Extant ~
Hominids
Great Apes
Primarily lumbering along on all fours
Quadrupedal
Except Us
**** sapiens*
What mechanism allowed for bipeds?
Natural selection?
Or a naturally selected collective vision
Through collective perspiration
Art is used to mine dream-time
Inspiring the masons among us
The art is the plan
The architecture is built upon
And the builders perspiration
Leads to the built environment
How do you cap it?
Egyptians used a capstone
Aspiration
Leading to
Inspiration
Leading to
Perspiration
Leading to
A
Spire
Naturally
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
Drifting in the shade
of Hello Poetry's long lost grave
In archive (a kingdom's history)
the past that has been made
Stepping on the bleached out bones
The pale parade of long dead dreams
Crunching fragments of sentenced themes
burning books , poems stuffed inside the reams
Epitaphs to their honor
2010 comments to poets
Vickey , Fix , and O'Connor
Poems to praise lost in time
I hold in hand the words that bind
Great poems whose eyes
were never shed
In a broken aspiration
now lay dead
Cruch , crunch ,
the landscape littered in 2012
Oh what sacred feelings
not forthwith
Here ! lay my poems
to rest here
In 2014 my poems
of yesteryear
Aug 25, 2025
Aug 25, 2025 at 1:20 AM UTC
"YOU ARE MY DREAM"
It doesn't matter how long it took
before we
met each
other. What
matter most
was how well
we'd ever
stay together
longer. On
our journey
of trust,
honesty fuels the motion. Loving
you is a
mission with commitment
to bringing us
to a rightful
destination.
Baby you're my aspiration, my
dream in
whom lies
my whole vision.
#C9_fm
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 6:24 PM UTC
*When I was just a little girl
I wanted so much for my life
to resemble a beautiful secret garden,
I'm aware that this may sound
crazy and bizzare - if it does,
then please do beg my pardon.
A secret garden in the woods
with such beauty hidden deep within,
Full of secret pathways and passages
that only special people would know about,
fitted with padlocked gates - so not to let
any bad people in.
Pretty little flowers
in vivid colours
that please the heart and soul -
seen through the eyes of everyone,
Butterflies dancing above pristine hills -
with hedges making mazes;
for a touch of fun.
Crimson tree-tops and rose bushes
in every beautiful colour
ever created,
A place that is so unique - from it,
no soul could stand to be seperated.
Ineffable in its beauty,
like a magnet souls are attracted,
This secret garden,
like a heavenly day dream,
in a daze -
from it, you cannot be distracted.
Whether there was a blue sky,
or dark clouds, as a daily rooftop,
Love and happiness
would be nonstop.
A place where loved ones
always felt safe and secure,
Never wanting to find
the secret garden's door.
They'd always be free
to be themselves,
A wish
That we all have for ourselves.
When I was just a little girl
I wanted so much for my life
to resemble a beautiful secret garden,
Now I'm all grown up,
and still trying
to bring this aspiration to life;
this vision, is one,
I am never, ever discarding,
I really still want my life
to be just like a beautiful secret garden,
And if this sounds crazy or bizzare...
then, please do beg my pardon!
By Lady R.F ©2017*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC
An ant is just an ant my son
An impact it wont make
But a million ants will move the world
A conviction you won’t shake.
An ant is still a living thing
It eats, it breaths, it works
It runs in an environment
Where the hostile spider lurks.
It works in regulation
With a thousand brother ants
To a strict cooperation
That achieves communal stance.
An intelligence is present,
A timetable has been set
This organized endeavor
Makes it’s success an winning bet.
An ant makes love, it rears it’s young
It grooms it’s brother’s hide.
And if enraged an ant will fight
A foe a thousand times it’s size.
It’s glittering antennae
And it’s shiny compound eye
It’s economy of movement
And compulsion to deny
Involvement with any cause
Apart from that one sent
By the Queen Ant’s regulations
At the Ant God’s monument.
I am moved with admiration
For this tiny creatures heart,
It’s commitment to community
And resolve to set apart
All individual aspiration
And selfish action of it’s own.
To gather condiments for nest and Queen
Compelled forever more…to roam.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
17th May 2008
Nov 28, 2009
Nov 28, 2009 at 11:53 AM UTC
As a maze is to the eye, I am to all. Winding and wearing, my walls impossibly tall. Here, turns are the
Words
and dead ends the Actions. Spirals are the days, and red herrings, my Attractions. With each
Who dare
Enter,
Two Paths
They All
Choose.
One abandons
All Hope
The Other,
Nothing
To Lose.
But none have made the journey,
none to the
core.
For all who enter,
leave and say
"no more! no more!"
Here I have planted this garden that others accuse a maze.
A beautiful creation covered by haze. But all that is seen is monstrous,
a trick of the daze.
Months and years at the center have been all of my stays.
Here I will watch and wait for the One who makes it, and is amazed.
By all I have built, all I have dreamed and every aspiration and desperation has seemed
to build this
wonderful,
wandering
place.
You who hear my case,
I invite you to take that space.
Be the One who makes it, leave all others to be commonplace.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
Journeys rendered dateless,
Unending,
Wayward and extending out,
Round the compass points --
Dizzying aspiration to cease this race,
To slow my sprinting soul,
This pace splintering, in exhaustion.
Expiring breath of hope or of home
Evaporated in a distance
Vanishing and
Disconnected.
Drifting
On trackless tides, across
Labyrinthine depths,
Within the vast heart
Of the world
I cannot run from.
Yet, I moved to and between
The center or its peripherals, in
Singular or collectives,
Seeking pattern and
Drawing connectives –-
Brushing by and
Bustling among
People
Entranced In their own
Objectives.
I watched their movements
And their exchanges,
I heard their rituals and
Invocations.
In all these transitions,
They have no inkling
That their seemingly trite
Lives merely manifest
The epic motifs of the heavens!
Our imaginations mirror
The vitality of the gods!
We are as immortal as they!
Our simple, sensual stories
Are also enduring legends
Unfolding,
As our pages turn,
Our flags are unfurling!
Just as our fellow
Olympians of old
Engaged in a marathon of
Endeavor to heights
Unimagined!
From those mystic days
Since Orpheus’ ardent lyre
Sang notes
Of Nature’s divinity, Her
Eternal sweetness.
We need only sense that
It is in Nature’s essence
We are sharing.
With her, we are joined in
An undying marriage,
A unified pairing –
Our human heritage,
Our dignified bearing.
We share in that song,
We share in that sweetness,
We share in that race,
We share in Her immanence.
This journey is our own.
It goes on, unending!
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC