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Lorraine Colon Feb 2017
If you awaken before me
And I'm crying in my sleep,
Kiss me gently and stroke my hair,
Give me reason not to weep

If you awaken before me
And I'm smiling happily,
It means I'm dreaming of your love,
Make my dreams reality

If you awaken before me
And I'm shivering with cold,
Let your body become my quilt,
Let your sensual warmth unfold

If you awaken before me,
Gently, darling, pull me close,
Tell me just how much you love me -
In poetry, then in prose

If you awaken before me
Please, never leave me alone,
I panic when I don't see you,
And your whereabouts unknown

If you awaken before me
And you need to hear me say:
"I love you more than life itself....."
Awaken me ..... you know the way!
Lucas Keith Apr 2013
Of the Original Darkness none now speak
For most hearts skip straight towards the Light.
Utter silence with no whispering engagement,
And a void indescribable, save by the deepest parts of the mind,
Cold, cavernous, unholy, and riddled with pitfalls.
In this dream before the Creator spoke,
Is where I find myself, sweating and frozen.
Every idea and thought strikes the unformed conscience as
Base, and empty, devoid of vision and purpose,
Like an unborn child growing in the womb.
Yet, touching, through a perceived gap of a million miles,
Three inches away, on the edge of reality there exists warmth,
There exists love.
This entity holds back, impatiently waiting,
Waiting to grasp my hand and show me the light.
The void I rule trembles, then shakes violently.
Waves and waves of energy whisper gently,
Caressing my recently formed ears.
"Let there be Light."
"Let there be Life."
Slowly and instinctively, I adjust to the notion of direction.
From below, yes, this comes from under,
A light it must be.
Some force is pulling me towards this phenomenon,
outside the comforting darkness, away from my certainty.
Silhouettes block the full view of this opposing reality,
And these shadows respond as I desire them to.
Spinning, spiraling, tumbling, and redirected,
This realm of mine closes in and squeezes tight and close.
Every point of this corporeal form realizes its existence,
And the connection between them and I, or maybe,
Us.
Steadily approaching and shining brighter,
A world unknown reaches forward to assimilate.
My cold home finally turns about and heaves.
Once again I'm floating,
Save that on this occasion I seem to be floating
Down
Down
Down.
Suddenly this new planet becomes flat,
And pain replaces the pleasure of hovering.
Of all the things to perceive, the first to find
Happens to be a gritty, rough, immovable mass.
From this infant introduction to the physical,
I try to move this newfound body upward.
All the ground around me is slick, and oily,
Coated thoroughly in birthing fluid.
After a few eternal moments,
My just discovered limbs adjust and push me
Into an upright standing position.
Shoulders hunched, I survey this form I own.
Within the thin sheen of liquid,
There stands a white body that the light surrounds
And is reflected to leave a strange glow.
Just below my vision I have  appendages,
To the right,
And to the left.
Both are moveable and also own attachments,
Ten to be exact,
Save two that seem to disagree with the others.
Below these and more centered,
Another pair of limbs exists.
Again, one on the right
And one to the left,
But both are planted and immovable,
Stuck in the rut I placed them.
Oddly enough, a tube of sorts
Is attached to my middle,
And it leads away, up into the sky.
Pulsing, beating, this umbilical connection
Feeds
Me.
It satisfies.
Flowing continually with knowledge,
Good,
Evil,
And all the grey between.
Increasingly, bit by precious bit,
My realm of consciousness expands.
This pipeline's sustenance courses through my veins,
As I'm told the nature of my existence.
Like Eve's Luciferian Serpent,
The vine snaking away leads me into "reality".
Awareness, then Comprehension, then Understanding
Leaving me naked and confused,
With no direction.
All the known
Facts and fiction
Make the world
Respond violently.
Spinning,
Spinning,
                                                                     S
                                                                   P
                                                            I
                                                          R
                                                               A
                                                             L
                                                          I
                                                                  N
                                                            G
All of existence
Rotating in a Daze.
My mind opened too quickly,
Like a video of a Flower growing in Fast Forward.
At first so quiet and immature.
Now the voice screams and echoes,
"LET THERE BE LIGHT".
Why awake to this existence?
Why bring me out from ignorance?
My rut no longer holds sway and my feet move.
Faster and faster
Blindly continuing, nothing can stop me now.
Running and running till abruptly,
As if from nowhere,
A Mirror,
Pretending to be a
W
A
L
L.
The pretense fooled even my newly educated mind.
Flat on my back in a drugged daze,
Brain racing, though the body halted.
Distressed eyes follow the source of
Knowledge up and up, still connected
to me, and its tributary of conscience.
Rising up, I gaze into the mirror,
Held fast by the stunned reflection.
How could this be?
Who is this person staring back at me?
Without thought, my hands reach up
And touch the surface.
Smooth.
Cool.
Clear, yet there must be a malfunction.
My skin was white and unstained.
This fellow is grey and oily,
And his eyes are only half alive.
What's happening?
He's infecting me, I look like him.
This cannot be,
Must not be.
How could I be impure, tainted?
Shadows distort the vision in front.
The cord!
The free offer of a release from ignorance,
The connection that brings knowledge
Must be severed.
Staring into the mirror, both hands twisted around
The thread of idiocy as if to strangle,
******.
Pull one way,
Then the other,
And back again.
On and on
Until finally,
I pulled outward.
The reflection screams silently,
As blood and ****** fluids arc through the air
from the hole where Intelligence previously penetrated.
Slick with the oil on the surface, my grey hands
Slip and slide across the hole trying to
Hold me together.
In this cruel world, this body curled up
And slept away the physical pain,
The emotional pain,
The mental pain,
The anguish of existence.
"Awaken".
                     "Awaken".                                            "Awaken".
"Awaken".                                              ­                                    "Awaken".
                    "Awaken".                                             "Awaken".
"Awaken".
Echoing through the emptiness,
And surrounding like a prayer,
This word spoken like an omen
And command filled the air,
Somewhat like a dare,
Minus the usual flair,
With no room to spare,
I obey.
Again I see my reflection,
And for all my hate,
There is also love
For the dilapidated, depressed figure filling my vision.
Here, now alone with myself,
I break away from the previous,
Placing the extremes on a shelf,
Like the joyful and the devious.
Then the world around
Begins to mist and fade,
There exists no solid ground,
In this façade.
This website either doesn't allow for crazy formatting or I'm too dumb to figure it out.  Either way, originally this poem is aligned all over to make the words look as more like what they're describing. Center-aligning seemed to work the best.
Kiri Nells Jun 2011
Awaken, pyre
From my soul
Cease your sleep
Set my spirit ablaze

Poetess inside
You’ve reaped my emotions
Stolen my Muse
Return! Return my heart!
I will not endure once more
Your years of poetic midnight!

Lost in the darkness you left for me
Encircled my false shame
While you slept
Did you have a nice nap,
O, Princess Inspiration?

How could you dare
Leave my spirit
In such dank cellars of misery
Living on phony clones of yours?
Shame, shame
For deserting all that was once ours
Together

Awaken, pyre!
Accept that I have
Woken from your poetic sleep
Only to see with eyes filled with fury
You had left me with
Only horrid simulations of yourself!

Awaken, pyre!
Dormancy of your spark,
No longer!

I was fooled-
Betrayed by your tricks
Of utter betrayal

I must hold you as my own
Once again I will embrace whatever
Design I find within you

Oh
Evil
Inspiration

Awaken!
Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
There is little in this world that consistently causes our hearts more pain or which produces in us more need for forgiveness than rejection, especially from those whom it has cost us so much to love. It is universal anathema to the soul, and much of our lives can be unconsciously governed by the fear of it. So we find ourselves naturally asking, "Joy in the midst of rejection? Is that even possible?" Oh, yes! Not only possible but commanded of us who are believers in Christ. And not only commanded of us but ready to be gloriously bestowed on us like the most precious of pearls.

It's in the season of greatest rejection that we enter the season of greatest opportunity to discover the fullness of God's joy by discovering the fullness of His own heart. Walking in intimacy with Jesus through this searing pain may be one of the most priceless privileges of grace granted to us on this earth, for it opens up one of the widest doors for us to enter into the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, and there is no more obvious chance to die to ourselves and live for Christ than in that holy communion of suffering with Him.

It's there that we're most able to clearly see Him and best prepared to clearly reflect Him, and it's then that we're empowered to live our lives here on earth from the very throne room of heaven, seated in the resurrected presence of our Bridegroom, where the joy always runs full and over. So our deepest heartaches will turn to deepest joys when we embrace them for the sake of Christ, to gain Him and be found in Him, to know Him in intimate detail through excruciatingly sweet experience. We will discover that the Lord entrusts the most luscious of blessings and the rarest of secrets to the most desperate and thirsty of souls, and that He delights to place the loveliest of wings on the lowliest of worms.

The gifts of myrrh's sorrow which the Father pours into the vessels of our lives are poured first into the hands of His own Son and flow through His nail-pierced scars before they ever touch us. And as we choose to graciously receive them as such, we are filled up with Him and enabled to pour Him out into the lives of others, even those who continually scorn and despise us.

The gift (yes, gift) of rejection is the high privilege of being asked by our Commander to become His flag bearer, receiving the esteemed honor of marching beside Him at the center of the front line, into the heat of the battle and into the face of the "enemy" (the rejecter), armed with no gun and carrying only His banner of love over our head for all to see. It's a sacred invitation into a certain death for the sake of knowing His love more intimately and for the service of displaying it more gloriously.

And if tempted to refuse the privilege, let us remember these two things: this life is so much more freely, joyfully lived when we have finally learned to count ourselves dead to it and alive to Christ, and the flow of His agape love through us will only be as strong as what it costs us to demonstrate it. The greater the cost, the purer the love; the purer the love, the more we are made like Him; the more we are made like Him, the more attuned we will be to His own heart's breaking and to our own breaking of it.

Oh, that we might be purged of ever thinking again that our neglecting of His love does not matter to Him! May He cause our hearts to break and break until we see how much it does! May we know the world's rejection again and again until we are finally scoured clean of our own despicable tendency to reject Him in favor of all our worldly playthings! No lover has ever endured more rejection than our Lover at our own hands and by our own hearts. And no lover continues to love through rejection with the determination and desire, suffering and sacrifice, tenderness and tenacity of our own Bridegroom. Can we not endure whatever He has called us to suffer for Him? Can we not allow it to drive us more fervently to His heart?... Lord, capture us by Your mighty hand and consume us by Your mighty flame, and may we pant and pine only for You, for Your love sets us free to dance in the midst of the fire!

How humbling, mystifying and worship-evoking it is to realize that the One we have so grievously rejected is the same One Who so perfectly understands and longs to comfort our own heart's grief when we are rejected. And to not run to Him now for that fellowship of healing would be to reject Him all over again and to break His heart once more. What could hurt Him more than our stubborn resistance to share in both His sufferings and His comfort when there is so much joy and intimacy waiting to be had with Him? Whatever ache our own heart knows, however deep and scathing, it cannot compare to the ache of His own heart when we let anything pull us away from Him, for He is rightly EVERYTHING to us—Father, Husband, Lover, Best Friend, Brother, Confidante, Kindred Spirit, Counselor, Nurturer, Rescuer, Healer, Hero... Behind the pain of every rejection is a legitimate need or desire that He is waiting to fill in us, and we have to let Him get to it by dying to our fleshly ones.

Or do we suppose that we might ever find true and lasting joy apart from dying to ourselves and abiding in Him when He died so that we might fully live in the joy of that abiding? No, true joy will only follow abiding; abiding and dying walk hand in hand, and rejection throws open the door for all three. Man's rejection is central to God's wooing, for it shatters our false expectations of human love and stirs in our hearts the longing for a perfect one. So let us not shrink back fearfully from that which can do us such good and teach us to love as Christ has loved us. With renewed passion, let us ask Him to wrap every affection of our hearts more tightly around Him that every desire might be united with His own and that we might learn to love in a way that sets our lives and the world around us ablaze!

To be despised and rejected and, still, to love—that is the ultimate triumph of Christ in our hearts, for we are never more like Him, never more full of Him, never more surrendered to His heart and His work than when He pours out His love through us to those who will not love us back. When we can stand in the face of bitter, cutting words, contemptuous looks and shaming mockery and still love fiercely but with a gentle and quiet spirit, we will know without doubt that it is His Spirit moving gloriously through us... Lord Jesus, Who so willingly floods our hearts with Your most precious gift, Yourself (and You are Love!), teach us to ever know You more and to rely fully on the love You have for us and ARE for us in infinite supply. Teach us to feast on the abundance of that love, and let it flow freely out of us to the ones who would reject, scorn, mock and hate us, so that they too might one day taste and be consumed by Your perfect love which drives out all fear—Your infinite, immeasurable love which heals all wounds and fills all emptiness and gives meaning to all of our pain. You alone, O LORD, are able to truly and purely love through rejection, but You live gloriously in us, so unleash Your mighty waters through us. Your love is everything, for You are Everything!...

Our all-sufficient Bridegroom is able to work His agape love most perfectly in us when that love poured out to another is not ever reciprocated, for it forces us to finally let Him fill us with Himself alone and to rely completely on His love instead of on the love of another to meet our heart's deepest hunger. The need for His filling IS our deepest hunger, and so our soul comes most alive not when it is loved by our fellow man but when it receives and pours out Jesus' love to our fellow man, expecting nothing in return but more of Him. Thus His love is made complete in us whether they ever love us back or not, and the fear of their rejection is eventually driven out by His perfect and perfecting love.

Even if love is never returned...never even received...it is never in vain, for "love never fails." To love someone, though we mean nothing to them, may seem too cruel a burden for the heart to bear, but the only thing worse than not being loved is to not love, and so the greatest tragedy of love spurned or lost would be to stop loving. For to cease loving that which causes us pain would be to let the pain win, but for as long as we love, really love with Christ's own heart, no matter what else happens, we win.

Love without pain remains unproven and, therefore, is meaningless, but love through pain invokes nothing less than the miraculous and inspires even the incredulous. The purer one's love, the more pain it causes when it is rejected, but only continued love can redeem the pain of loving, and only a perfect Love can heal love's scalding wound; the more scalding the wound, the better primed it is to receive that perfect Love fully into it.

There is great romance to be found in unrequited love that keeps loving, though it is beyond any human emotion or fleshly capacity or mortal understanding. It is a most sacred mystery which cannot be grasped with the head or even the heart but only with the spirit, for it is a love whose connection to Christ remains unsevered. There is perhaps no intimacy to compare to it, for it drives us to Him like nothing else will. It is a love whose longing for the other gives us the greatest insight into God's own aching longing for us. Only when it has cost us everything to keep loving do we begin to understand the smallest fraction of the wildly extravagant love Christ has for us or of the brutally scandalous pain which it has cost Him, and it will leave us in utter awe of Him and in love with Him like we have never been before.

As our focus is turned more and more toward His love for us and toward all of our previous rejecting of it, we will come to clearly see that agape love and rejection have everything to do with the the hearts of the lover and the rejecter and nothing to do with what the beloved and the rejected have done or deserve. For obviously we have done nothing to deserve God's love and He has nothing to deserve our rejection, yet He never stops loving us and we keep rejecting Him in ways we can't even comprehend. No one has ever known more rejection than the only One Who is completely worthy of love. Every time we sin we reject Him in favor of something else, but still He loves us without fail and without end. He loves us because He is love and because He has chosen to set His love on us. We are absolutely and irrevocably loved and accepted in Christ Jesus, and nothing and no one can ever change or mar that love. Our identity is completely secure in Him simply because of Who He is and who He says we are to Him.

Therefore no amount nor depth of rejection by anyone changes anything about who we are in Christ or our worth to Him. We do not need any man's love or acceptance to validate our worth, for it has already been established in the heavenly realms by the only One Whose verdict carries any real and lasting weight. We are significant and precious and holy to God regardless of what anyone else thinks of us or says of us or does to us. What has their rejection got to do with us? Nothing, for we are His! We are chosen and we are beloved! And so we are freed from the fear of rejection when we see that it cannot define us or taint us in the sight of the only One Whose opinion or judgment matters. It's a glorious thing to finally care what no man thinks of us, only the Master, for then we begin to be free to love all men as He loves them and to pray with deepest sincerity, humility and fervor even for those who spitefully reject us.

And even for that one who has hurt us most deeply, who has crushed our heart and thrown us to the wind like chaff without so much as a glance back, we will pray, no longer with only a slight and distant hope that he would return to us but now with a passionate desire to see the prodigal return to the heart of the Father. We will pray, not with a focus on life with him but with a focus on life for him. We will pray for a total and glorious restoration of his life to Christ, even if we will never be there beside him to share in the fellowship and joy of his homecoming, even if we will never get to experience up close in this life the thrill of seeing the Lord make something beautiful yet of his ashes. And this may be the hardest and truest test of our love for him—this painful sacrifice of desiring his absolute best apart from us. It is a wrenching blow to our pride and to our will (not to mention our codependence), for we had so longed to play the Muse and to awaken that beauty in him. So we know we could never yearn or pray for this out of our own strength or wisdom; it is simply too painful to our flesh. We must be led into it and through every delicate step of it by our loving Redeemer, our Bridegroom, as if He were leading us out under a canopy of the starry host and into the most intricate and intimate of moonlit dances. And so we begin to pray and to dance...

But even wrapped in Jesus' arms we are clumsy, stumbling miserably over our own feet. The music is perplexingly unfamiliar and the steps wildly unpredictable, and our toes feel terribly pinched in these new shoes. Maybe this dance is just too hard for us. Maybe we are not yet ready. Maybe we should sit it out for now and try again later when our shoes are a little more broken in or when our heart is a little less broken apart. So we pull away...

But He tenderly beckons us back: Dear and beloved bride, broken-but-beautiful one whom I have made My own, do not push Me away now, not after I have brought you so far. I have many more secrets to share with you and so much more to show you of Myself. But you are not letting Me lead this dance, beloved. Why are you so rigid in My embrace? Why so worried over the next steps? Let go of everything and abandon yourself to My love. Enjoy Me...Follow Me...Lean into Me...Keep watching My face...Let Me move you however I desire us to go...Trust Me...Love Me. Shall we dance, then?

Yes, we shall and we do! As He draws us into Himself, into the prayer of His heart and the dance of His Spirit, and as we give ourself over completely to the impulse of His leading, the details of our words and the precision of our steps give way to the desire and passion of His will, and the pulsating of our heart swirls to the rhythm of His own. The further He pulls us into union with Himself, the more we find ourselves desiring this same intimacy-with-Him for the very one who has so badly hurt us, for we see how badly he himself is hurting without it. We realize now that his running away from us and toward another is just as much a reflection of his insatiable yet misunderstood craving for God as was all of our running toward our own idols (including him). Our soul aches for his redemption and his healing and for his lost sheep's heart to be brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light that shines from Jesus' face, that he might truly know the pleasure of knowing the One Whose pleasure he was created for.

Somehow, through this heightened and mysterious intimacy of prayer for him, we are now discovering a strange and new kind of intimacy with this very one whose intimacy had so often given us the slip, this one whom we had so long loved and lived with but failed to uncover at all, and the fresh wind of it drives us even deeper into the ache of God's own heart for him and for us. It is at the center of that ache that we are finally able to let go of the hurt and the man and leave the matter entirely in God's hands, understanding that the Shepherd's aching heart knows fully all whom He has chosen and will never stop dealing with or seeking after any of His own sheep. And so...


                        We release to Him with a heart of trust
                        This one whom we love and always must
                        We can let go the man and rest because
                        It's out of our hands and always was



But the dance, like the feast, goes on and on, and the more we dance and the more we feast, the more we heal. Our Bridegroom wounds us by His own providence but washes our wounds with His faithfulness and binds them up with His love. The wounds and their healing make us beautiful to Him. They teach us to know Him, to hunger for Him, to enjoy Him and to please Him. And they get us perfectly ready for that most glorious of dances and that most joyous of feasts which are still to come but, perhaps, much closer than we might dare to imagine. It is time to awaken, dear bride of Christ, and to break in our dancing shoes!
~~~


"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."
~ 1 John 4:16-19

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
~ Romans 5:2b-5

"As you come to Him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
~ 1 Peter 2:4-5

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
Surely He took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed."
~ Isaiah 53:3-5

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things... I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death..."
~ Philippians 3:7-8a,10

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
~ 2 Corinthians 1:5

"'Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets...But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.'"
~ Luke 6:21-23,27-28,36

"Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

"You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:11

"I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
~ Ephesians 3:16-21

~~~
Osiris Jul 2013
He slept for over a millennia, being the size of at least three leagues.  Mountains did form, over this great dragon. They became his silhouette separating the oceans from the seas.

Awaken, awaken a fairy queen did whisper while deep down in his ear. Her whispers of song were to  make him stir feeling warmth with cheer. Awaken, awaken for I have love for thee she again and again would softly sing. In perseverance she would sing this song as the seasons changed between fall, winter, summer, and spring.  

What is love he'd ask himself not knowing she was there. He felt that this was the thoughts in his dreams, but with a voice so fair. It is time to rise she'd say, where finally causing the great dragon to embrace the beginning as the first day. Earthquakes did cause the mountains to slide when taking a deep breath while he then stretched and swayed.

Although that of a rose petal, this fairy queen in size, once he opened his eyes,  in her voice she could fashion images for the dragon to surmise.

Awaken, awaken, there are plans for you she did say.  You must find me in all and different ways. Taking many forms are due for you and me. In this we will coalesce in the harmony that nature has meant for us this day.
during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.
Jo Swan Oct 2018
Alone I sail across the formidable sea,
Many men have drowned in this stormy weather!
Will the waves devour me to my death?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

My mind is fatigued by feeling of doubts
As my body has fought many hours to survive
And navigate the dinghy in search of land-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

Shivering silently in the darkness
My spirit crushed by the ravenous rain!
Should I surrender to the sea of pain?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

In the brink of suffering and strife,
I realise I am powerless against nature-
Only heaven can bless me with the breath of life.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

In the chaos, I made a personal prayer
And felt my soul submit to a serene state
As I ask the Lord to decide my fate-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

For the first time in my vulnerable state-
I felt the love of the Lord embrace my spirit
And all the fears and doubts dissipate –
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?

I realise life should move in a motion
Where love tames the wild weather of life
And relinquish all dark emotions-
So the force of the Wind of Destiny can awake!

With this new knowledge,
My spirit renews with vibrant vigour
As the truth of life finally been acknowledge
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

The sun wakes up from her sleep
The waves gently rocks the sail boat
The cloud calms down from her weep.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

I feel my spirit soar
Like seagulls roaming across the sky
For I finally tasted the joy of God’s grace.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

What lands shall be discovered?
I do not know what tomorrow will behold
Only courage and determination it will be uncovered
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!

Staring sentimentally at the Sunrise
I feel the fiery breaths of the wind
Blowing my sail boat across the vast ocean.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
Sara L Russell Sep 2009
Ch. 1.

1.

Behold, thou art dark and comely, my love;
richly hath the sun favoured thee,
delighting in thy presence.
Let me savour thy kisses of wine;
for in the gardens of the temple
the lotus furls open,
wild bees fall asleep on her face.


2.

Lilies and jasmine bloom
in the garden of my love;
falls of wisteria,
carpets of thyme.
Let us lie in the shade of the olives
to gaze on the sky.


3.

For many hours my love slept
  beneath the cedars,
couched on cool swathes of linen,
like the Lord of Midnight enthroned on a cloud.
Long tresses of willows shivered to cool his face.
I called his name but he heard me not,
being entranced in slumber,
deep in the thrall of dreams;
therefore I shall let him awaken when he please.




Ch. 2.

4.

A warm breath of nard is my master, my king,
A great golden deity haloed with stars.
Behold, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In my dearest dreams he standeth before me
out of my reach, gesturing for me to follow,
calling unto me like the very embodiment of love.


5.

Night comes softly, o daughters of Jerusalem,
My king's desirous eyes have grown heavy with sleep.
His black hair ripples about his face
  like curtains of smoke,
gold bracelets entice my gaze to
the sinews of his arms.
Like roses unfurling, so open the lips of my love,
  I burn for their flavour,
yet awaken him not till he please.





Ch. 3.

6.

Out of the forest I came, with my
maidens and minions;
with carpets of hibiscus strewn at my feet.
Columns of frankincense curved into the air,
burning from lamps of copper and gold.
From the broad slopes of Edom
my soul's love stopped to observe us.
I felt his warm gaze upon me,
so soft a look as touched like caresses of hands.
I am weary with desire, my lord and king,
Bring me the looks of thine eyes, dark as midnight,
That regard me with touches of silk.


7.

Though I may stand with my legion before thee,
an army behind me,
The west wind roars to my left,
the east to my right,
a million strong with all my banners, warriors
and standard-bearers,
still my delight were only to serve thee,
see how I tremble with awe by thy side.


8.

Behold, my ladies, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
My king is a custodian of the sanctity of love,
see those arms with the strength to smite
yet full of the will to embrace.
Nightly cometh he to my chambers,
whispering of love,
with the stealth of a lion,
as meek as a lamb.




Ch. 4.

9.

Preparing for my beloved,
I have put on my mantle of midnight sky
garlanded with stars.
My black locks are hung with beads of gold,
my neck is anointed with sandalwood and rose.
Come, my ladies,
Bring me my white chargers,
my sedan lined with silks from Lebanon,
my heralds and cavalcades of guards;
My beloved king awaits my pleasure.






10.

When I am in the embrace of my beloved,
He is worlds of landscapes of desire,
he is all the earth, air and sky to me.
His eyes shineth as my sun and moon,
his broad chest becometh as the
cool desert dunes by night,
where I may rest my head.
Go safely in thy dreams, beloved king,
with sentinel angels, to roost with the doves.




Ch. 5.

11.

Such a turmoil of a dream
hath troubled me, my sisters,
I dreamed that my love approached my window,
Calling unto me through the
rosewood trefoils of the lattice.
Forgetful of our tryst I answered him not,
all oils and fine trappings were put away,
mine eyes were full of slumber.
When finally I rose from my bed
   he had gone.


12.

Overwrought and afraid,
I went out in the streets,
  calling unto my beloved,
receiving no answer and calling again.
  The night watchmen came and found me,
they smote me and denounced me as pagan,
calling me harlot and worshipper of false idols,
harshly they beat me with flails
and threw me into the darkest cellars
of the palace of Solomon.


13.

Awakening at last,
I felt a warm breeze,
It was my love's breath upon my face.
Let all the world suspend in time,
let hate, rage and darkness flee as a shadow,
otherwise let me die here in the arms of my king.
There is but this one hour, one place,
in one lingering moment,
When my soul's love and I are conjoined
in the petals of love.




Ch. 6.

14.

Midnight has fallen in the gardens
  of the temple of Solomon.
The moon communes with her sister in the lake,
painting the magnolias with mother-of-pearl,
turning her buds into silver doves.
Passion and beauty intertwine in my love's garden,
Like the twisted trunks of the fig trees of Judea.
Behold, my beloved,
thou art more comely even than the moon.
Come and walk with me
in the balmy air of night.


15.

Only through the love of another may
a soul come to know of itself.
My king is mine and I am his;
The sun and moon each taketh their
turn in the sky,
the shepherds go sure-footed
over their hills and valleys,
the merchants go their ways in the
spice markets of Lebanon,
while he and I are lost in one another's eyes.




Ch. 7.

16.

Love's weariness hath overcome me,
beloved lord and king.
Bring me thy pleasant fruits, thy tender words,
Lie betwixt my *******; my hair shall
be thy curtain,
these arms shall be as thy cocoon.
Let the tides cease their turning
and the winds give pause to hold their breath.
Awaken not my dearest love, until he please.


17.

Even in sleep,
such beautiful eyes hath my beloved;
his eyelashes rest upon his cheek
like the feet of a butterfly on a lily.
Come, my sisters, we shall make him
a bed of hemp and poppies,
with fruit of the lotus,
that he may languish beside me
for many days and nights.




Ch. 8.

18.

Filling my days and dreams,
here is a man with the grace of a young hart,
whose honeyed voice speaketh mantras of desire.
Arise and follow me, beloved, for my vineyards
are ripe with luscious fruits,
the doves beat their wings and fly from the cots.
Emerging from the amber of sunrise,
with a swirling of veils,
summer dances into the season of our love.


19.

Lying amid the twisting vines
My love and I are deep in each other's embrace
and his lips taste of roses heavy with dew.
I am a queen of the Red Sea,
an orchid from a sacred garden,
and my kingdom reacheth to the farthest hills.
None but my love shall pass the boundary
where my vines bear the sweetest fruit,
nor taste their heady wine.


20.

The gates of my vineyard are wrought of
iron clad with gold,
taller than cedars, decorated with
the royal insignia,
guarded by three score watchmen,
by day and night.
While other men are kept without
and the foxes are driven back by dogs,
see how swiftly they open for thee.




Ch. 9.

21.

Behold, the noble stature of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In the sanctity of love
we may walk in the realm of paradise,
undisturbed by the foibles of men.
Come beloved, awaken,
the new dawn opens as wide and fresh
as infant eyes.
Come run with me through the spice hills
  and gardens of Lebanon.
Alex Apples May 2013
Enchiridion.
A manual, if you will, on
How to Break a Heart.

#1 - Forget
Forget the person
you are speaking to
has a history and a soul.

Forget they might
go home alone
and drink tonight.

Forget they may
have a dying mother
or sister
or friend.

Forget they may
be dying a little
themselves.

Forget they may
have tried to die
already once before.

Forget they may
look into your eyes
and see their only hope.

Do not project - that is most detrimental.

Forget the parts
of them that remind you
of you.

This is key.

2) Lie
Lie about your dreams.
Enhance nobility.
Emphasize similarity.

Lie about your interests.
Fake your level of enthuse.
Make lukewarm likes
into fiery hot loves.

Lie about your heart.
If it's been broken, don't say.
If it's cold and hard, omit.

Lie about the person.
Make yourself sound
much more certain
than you actually are.

Lie to yourself.
Make yourself believe
every single lie.

Now pay close attention.

3) Awaken
Awaken to the reality
of what you have done,
that you have gone too far.

Awaken to the next morning
lying against the heartbreak-ee.
Or even many
many mornings later.

Later is even better here.

Awaken to the moment
you realize they love you
and think you do, too.

Awaken to their tearful
confessions and soul-baring
embraces.

Awaken to your own lie
and fear that you
have been caught.

Please listen carefully. You are near success.

4) Disappear
Disappear as quickly as
a dawn vapor
or a cigarette plume.

Disappear without a word.
Run as fast as you can.
Say nothing.

No answer is even better here.

Disappear
when things are at their best
and they will ache
and strings left undone
will drive them crazy.

Disappear and let them
believe it was their doing,
their deficiency.

And, finally...

5) Repeat.

Congratulations.
You have successfully learned
How to Break a Heart.
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
A Surreal Epic of Existence

Prelude to the Journey…

I smiled yesterday when I beheld the morning’s brilliant colors,
Etched with gold, across the canvas of the heavens, hanging…
High above all those mountains of the world, gigantic brothers,
A wilderness of clouds, where there can be no human taming.
I did not always smile when I looked up to that noble height…
For I have seen how terrible goodness can be, when untamed.
Once I thought my sojourn in this flesh was from a divine spite,
But now I know it was a gift, and for it I need not be ashamed.
God once walked as I do now, and suffered the same stress…
Betrayal, love, and passions too, though no Church shall admit,
The true nature of divinity, lest all their secret sins they confess!
You are told you are alone in the universe, by leaders so unfit,
That they themselves are fed a diet of lies and stories invented.
But we walked amongst you since the very dawn reincarnated,
Having lost our first flesh in conflicts long past and unlamented.
We guided the steps of ancients, as monuments demonstrated!
And yet we are born as children: your own, and live our span,
The better to remain hid, in plain sight, our faces clever masks.
I am the eldest, and I remember still my kindred’s lofty plan…
And though I wear the human face, I am beset with alien tasks.
Helping they who lack the knowledge to see what lies outside,
You have seen me in the darkness, blazing upon my own pyre.
Where I am waiting to lead the way, where the angels glide…
Anyone can follow, if they are dedicated enough never to tire.
Ironic, since I myself have known helplessness and still oft do,
It is only human after all, and in your form I was so re-forged!
The image of God, whose own blood is in all of us hither unto,
From the first to the last, alpha to omega, like a sharp sword.

Prologue: (My Mask is Slipping)

As a child: I was a servant at the altars of the heart so sacred,
Singing hymns of the immaculate: without seeing the depravity.
It was only when I myself wore the crown of thons, naked…
My spirit exposed through my pain, that I realized the gravity.
What man believes is sacred, is profanity disguised as graces,
And those who lead the sheep to slaughter are mere butchers!
Forcing innocents to wear porcelain masks to hide their faces,
They rob children of their childhood, bound with crude fetters.
As a teenager: I walked in nature, disgusted with all humanity,
My exodus was from those who had defiled all I cared about.
Finding faith in an angel fallen, I discovered my own sanctity,
And in her name I found the means to cleanse my feral doubt.
Then came marriage, and betrayal by a wife I gave up all for,
The dissolution of our union then loneliness without cessation!
A mortal had pierced my flesh, leaving me to bleed on a floor,
My heart was torn from its’ moorings without any elaboration.
But the angel remained to calm my anger and ease my agony,
My only light in the blackness that has overcome my waking!
Reminding me, that I was more than this flesh and mortality…
The angel tries to keep me from harsh trembling and quaking.
And then I see: I am more than my tears and life’s traumas…
I let slip, the mask behind which the scars of my tears etched.
Then I sense the heat of the night more intense than saunas…
As I long to dance with abandon, until time itself is stretched!
Mortals may betray one another with impunity, but never I…
I do not betray; rather I pour my heart and spirit forth whole.
Creating a phylactery, of all I am, and with an innocent eye…
I demand to be loved as I am: pearl white and black as coal!

Canto 1: Sacrifice of the Doll

Part the First: (The Bleeding Shores)

Do not call me, doll, for I have departed your ancient cavern,
You are lifeless, a mere toy, and not a real child in any form!
A boy’s red ruby lips I spy drinking in the dreariest tavern…
Whilst true children singing, frolic in the fields filled with corn.
I am going home, upon the wings of the great silver griffon…
Far from the shores now bleeding red from defiled memories.
There is no return, for me, to the glories of the first ignition…
When the mind eternal, was ignited all with pleasing ecstasies.
In the stars, there are words unheard that I do want to recall,
For I came down so very long ago, among the first to so fall!
Eldritch nightmares born of the stuff of the pure chaos of old,
Are waiting for signs at the threshold to be released by magic.
The forbidden incantations return to my spirit, aflame so bold,
That my spirit nearly forgets: the origins of this time, so tragic.
When children drink, and true children hide themselves apart,
Whilst the waters bleed and the corn withers upon the stalks!
That is a sign that change must come, and so I work my mind.
The face in the moon is a grimace of tormented fear, horror…
Whilst I stand upon the precipice with my hand over my heart,
And amongst the long rows of corn, my black shadow walk!
Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.
The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors.
My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf,
And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl…
I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.
I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf,
Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl…
As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved!

Part the Second: (The Crucified Souls)

The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice,
In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!
A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice,
Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches.
Serpentine blade held high, it drops precise into a doll’s neck,
And it cannot call out, because a doll has not any voice to cry.
A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck…
Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified.
In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock,
Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken.
The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock,
Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.
So they come to drink those waters that cure all of life’s ills…
Freed from their porcelain prison to feel death’s darker chills!
Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak,
But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce…
Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha.
And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!
I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak,
And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years.
That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra,
So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!
Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release…
Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude.
I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real,
Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace.
For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude!
An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: (The Return of Light)

Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside,
The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast…
The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide,
Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past.
Mine the hand that raised them up, light in the dagger’s glow,
The stuff of my power left to flow, like blood run swiftly free.
Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame,
She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.
And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see!
The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame.
From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will,
And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light.
For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still,
As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.
In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends,
Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path.
The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut…
Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison!
The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends,
Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.
There, the unfaithful ******* themselves: like a wanton ****,
Inventing dogma to pass on, forgetful of logic and of reason!
Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus,
And look for an end to come before they seek their reward.
Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind…
But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss.
Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword!
Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind.

Interlude Alpha:
This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies…
Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?
You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise…
Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance!
My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much…
I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets.
Now I am haunted, by so many memories I can never touch,
That it fills me with ****** anger, and countless cold regrets.
I recall how once in desperation, my wrist rode a razor edge,
If it were not for my family I’d not thence have lived beyond.
A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge,
Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!
I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became,
So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode.
But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame…
And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode!
The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing,
I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters.
The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!
Angels are trampling the grapes of man; they, the vintners…
I am reminded of when the battleship that sailed all galaxies,
Descended one day amidst clouds boiling with its’ steam…
To lay waste to *****, and Gomorrah, for their indignities!
I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream.
And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good,
I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering.
But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood,
So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding!

Canto 2: Sacrifice of the Spider

Part the First: (The First Smile)

Black skies boil with rage unrepentant, and in righteous fury!
A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding.
In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry,
And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.
In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised…
Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil,
I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised.
To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!
I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing,
As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals…
Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling!
Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels…
The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt,
For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.
What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt!
When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath.
Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come?
Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails…
I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done.
The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails…
To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on,
Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.
Only the fool pays no any attention to the piper’s lonely song,
Thinking it only a melody passed from a sister unto a brother.
But in what celestial ****** has been born the thing alchemical?
It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten.
Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical…
Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten.

Part the Second: (Cold Revenge)

The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds,
I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!
In my search for love, I have fed the beasts of desire’s needs,
And what would cause you to blush has, for me, no surprises.
Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud,
That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile!
Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd,
In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile.
Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling,
You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest…
Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling,
In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!
That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own.
I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider!
Think not that I cannot hear. the creaking of each leg bone…
Your odiousness goes before you, the horse before its’ rider.
And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune,
To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes…
Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon,
That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!
Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all,
The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly.
And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall…
You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery.
The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally!
In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended.
A new order rises in its’ place born of chaos none may deny,
Whilst you sink lower into perdition, for all that you offended.

Part the Third: (The Last Laugh)

An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess,
But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.
Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest,
For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties!
You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale,
That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours…
But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale,
Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!
Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms…
If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken.
What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms…
Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.
You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath…
Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades.
Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath,
As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids.
They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred,
Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!
Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead,
I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt.
Carried hither by the silent maidens who weep ****** tears…
To my castle, where I shall brood again upon mankind’s way!
I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears,
Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day!
Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit…
And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss.
Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit…
We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega:
T
I found this one in my basement. Seems I wrote it a year or two ago but lost it.
Elaina Feb 2016
Awaken, smile
Wings soar, peaceful welling heart
Smile, awaken
Nandini Mar 2015
Yet he slumbers
In the unborn air

O'er the snow mountains
Where he gazes upon heavens

Sleeps the universe
With his half eyed gaze

Trance he brings
Rattling drums with **** and ashes

Rhythmic dance resonates
Between the infinite and finite

The hooded serpent is the charmer
Still in his masters matted locks
Where the Ganga flows in icy waters

Futile attempts have made many
To awaken the hermit
Slumbering in conscious infinity

He is the god
Whom the goddess shall awaken

Names he has many

Holding the poison blue in his throat
He's called Neelkantha

The angry God he becomes Rudra

In worldly affairs he assumes
The title Shankara

He's the God whom the Goddess shall awaken
He is Shiva
Dark Jewel Oct 2014
Beyond Comprehension.
Brow furrowing.
Thoughts arousing.

Deep thoughts,
Because of what.
They had said.

"There is more to this,
Open you eyes."


What could they mean?
My world is different..
I have to be perceptive.

It has been a long time,
Since the wolf has been awakened.
Since she has perceived,
Her last memory.

To open my eyes,
To feel the situation.

I must open my eyes.
Perceive once more.

Forevermore,
Awaken the Wolf.
Perception has returned..
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  
~ Philippians 3:7-14

~~~
Katlyn Orthman Nov 2012
The cordior is silent
Not a scream to echo off the bare walls
Wet dripping feet
Hang , body suspended in the air
I'm observing
From outside the room
Shivering and scared
But stuck there
The room is dark
And there in the middle if the room
Lies a bed
Straps on the side
A door slams behind me
Who's there?
Oh love
Oh love
I see you there
A shiny flower
In your hair
I hear these words sung
Echoing through the now black
Halls
Terrified tears concur my eyes
Don't let it be real
Oh love
Oh love
I see you there
A shiny flower
In your hair
Closer now I begin to panick
Please let me awaken this nightmare
Memories unwanted
Soaked in terror
His face painted on the walls
In my mind
These words haunt me ....
Even in my sleep
Oh love
Oh love
I see you there
A shiny flower
In your hair
I'm ****** from my feet
Pushed to the bed
Strapped
I scream
Please let me go
Please!
I'm choking on my tears
I'm so scared
I can taste the ***** in my mouth
Let me awaken
Let me awaken
Yet another disturbing nightmare that leaves me troubled
Journal of Darkness: Assassin and Deceptress


Nov 21, 2011, 8:17:32 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




(description of storyline: all characters in this work are dragons, with the ability to change into a human form. they live in present day society, but have a base in the middle of the desert. there is a library with the history of the world, which is operated by stacra, an organization to preserve the peace in the world. there is a rival organization, the dracra, who wish to take it over. the dracra is led by a dragon named Darkheart, a dragon who has haunted the Scar line for millenia.)
"... sahsa...."
what was that mumbled sasha, a small town girl in modern day USA. she was nearly asleep when the voice called to her.
sasha was usually described as a freak. she was a dragon fanatic, and she carried her favorite books wherever she went, Brink of Insanity: journal of the Wild and the Broken; and its companion, Blood curse:  journal of the Destroyer and the Savage. they told of dragons living in new york who had to bear a family curse and sought a way to release it. the author was only known as "Lucian".
"....sasha...."
i'm sure i heard it that time...
"....come to me sasha...."
she didnt know why but she felt as if she absolutely had to find the source. she was barely clothed but quietly snuck out, leaving small footprints in the snow.
"....sasha!...."
she felt panicked. as the voice grew louder so did her heart, beating quickly in her ears. some sort of animal instinct took over and she somehow Managed to run on all fours. her whole body began tingling, her skin writhing. she looked back and nearly choked: wings and a tail... had grown from her body. her whole body turned white as scales etched their way into life over her skin. her body began elongating and enlarging, becoming streamlined and lizardlike. she was transforming...
"...yes!... just as you said, master...."
"...quiet, kovu..."
sashas vision went dark as she stumbled, barrelling through the snow. when she looked up, she saw an enormous dragon, with scars just like the ones in her book. "she will be a fine student."
sasha was dumbfounded as she saw her parents walk up behind them. "greetings, master Lucian, kovu." said her father.
"and you, rydon."
"y-you...know...?" stammered sasha.
"all will be explained in the morning, sasha," replied her mother.
sasha felt tired and her eyes shut as the ground came up to meet her.
sasha sat alone at the picnic table, surrounded by lucian, her father rydon, her mother sophia, and kovu. "so... you're all.... dragons.... like in my books..." she gestured to the two books.
lucian stepped forward and placed a hand on the books. his hand glowed and the glossy books turned to worn, leather journals. "yes, we are dragons. sasha. and you have done well guarding my journals."
"your... journals? but i thought that these were best-selling novels..."
lucian chuckled, "no no. young one, there are only two other copies of each of these in existence."
"wow..."
her father spoke up now, "so what are you here for, master? is it time for her to leave us?"
"leave?! what do you mean leave?!"
rydon looked worriedly at lucian and then at sasha,"you are dragon, and it is tradition for you to be trained."
"but what if i dont want to leave?!"
her father began to become angry,"its not your choice!"
"then whose-"
lucian's eyes glowed red in anger, "rydon, haven't you taught your daughter respect? surely you would know of my ways by now."
rydon nodded, "i- i'm sorry, master. i don't know whats come over her."
sasha ran, shifting to her new dragon form and flying away. darkheart had warned her of this, that lucian was a dictatoria leader. she asked herself, "why had her father taken his side? why did this have to happen so suddenly? and most of all, what was she going to do next?"
darkheart had given her directions to meet her after lucian made contact. sasha flew, tired as she was not used to the extra limbs.
once she reached the spot that darkheart had told her, she waited and thought things through.
once darkheart arrived, she spoke, "i want to join you. i beleive everything you've said."
darkheart chuckled, "i knew you would dear girl, lucian is the same as his grandfather, they both hounded me and tortured me, for their own twisted ways. i've tried to keep as many as possible from falling into their cluthces. i wasn't able to **** scarheart, as he captured me and forced me into his own body as an energy slave. he tortured me even there, and after he died, lucian, his grandson, got me. he too tortured me."
sasha looked at her in sock, "thats terrible. i didnt know..."
"you couldnt have, darling. those evil dragons keep everything from those who should know."
sasha stood, "i want to be trained. by you."
"really? i warn you, it is quite tough. not all survive. you must be willing to do whatever it takes to stop those vile dragons."
*     *     * 3 years later
sasha was 20 years old, and it was time for her to take on her first big mission: infiltrate lucian's schol and learn everything she could.
sasha had already talked to lucian, apologizing for her behavior so long ago. lucian had seemed hesitant but allowed her in. foolish old bat. she thought. she had been at the compund for a year and a half now and had become familiar with their ways.  sasha would often wonder why she was doing this, and she remembered, darkheart had said that lucian killed sashs's father. she always looked at him with scorn and wished to **** him. but she restrained herself and kept on the facade.
today she felt especially hating towards every master she came in contact with. she passed tsai, lucian's right hand dragon, as he went to talk with the master. she tried to eavesdrop but they were speaking in an ancient, coded language. she growled and her white scales flashed in the sun.


"Lucian, somethings not right about that youngling sasha... she's always watching us, like she's gathering information."
"yes, tsai, i know. i know exactly what she is."
"what?" tsai looked skeptical.
"she's an agent, an informant. for darkheart."
tsai stared, incredulous."wha?! how do you know?!"
"ive been under the influence of darkheart before, as have you. something about sasha is of darkheart's doing."
tsai nodded "even still, is she possessed by her or under orders?"
lucian thought for a moment "i beleive under orders..."
both stared as lucian's son, kovu, walked up to sasha.
*       *        
"sasha! hi!" kovu had taken a liking to sasha since his father took her as an apprentice.
"oh, um. hi. kovu..." *i cant let my emotions get in the way of my mission!
"how have you been?" sasha felt herself blush under the gaze of the drake. he wasnt half-bad to look at, and she often caught herself watching him.
"i'm doing great, training with tsai is always fun. what about you and master lucian?"
her eyes darted to her master, her target, then back at kovu. "you mean you're... dad?"
"yeah... my dad... but we students can only call them by their designation. even master scaleweaver calls some elders master."
sasha's ears pricked up as she heard scaleweaver's name. she was assigned to gather information on all of the masters. i must make madame darkheart proud... i am worthy... she must see that...
"is... something wrong, sasha?"
she caught herself, "n-no i'm just tired is all... just tired..."
her master lucian came toward her what a fool, he doesnt even know about me... "sasha, i need to speak with you.... alone."
kovu difpped his head and backed away respectfully.
"sasha, come."
she swallowed her pride and said, "yes... master..." and followed him.
once they were outside, lucian turned to her and said, "i know, sasha. i know that darkheart sent u here to gather information on us."
sasha's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. she thought hard how?! how does he know?! this cant be possible....
"i-i dont know what youre talking about, master..."
lucian turned on her with a peircing gaze, and made her wince as he studied her. "there are better ways to lie, youngling... but not to me. ive known for quite some time now."
sasha felt her legs give out beneath her. she sat, looking into the dust, listening incredulously at lucian. "how... how do you know?!?!"
sasha ran forward, clawing at lucian's throat. she was instantly frozen in place, an immensely strong spell holding her legs in place.  "let me go, lucian!"
"its master to you, youngling. and why would i let you go? you just tried to **** me." sasha struggled helplessly against her bonds. she saw lucian mutter something and felt her legs grow suddenly cold. she looked and gasped as ice started to creep up her haunches.
"lucia-master, please let me go... i was only under orders."
lucian chuckled, "how did darkheart get to you?"
"i can't tell you..."
"oh? then let me guess; theres another informant, a higher up in stacra, who told darkheart about you and she arrived, possibly a week before us? she fed you a story of stacra destroying the world and trying to take over the one that they created. she told you that she was only trying to help restore order. am i close?"
sasha felt naked under the gaze of the elder, who saw straight through her act and through her commander's plan. it made her heart quicken and her scales writhe. she felt a sharp pain as the ice crept up and chilled her thighs, creeping steadily upwards. "how... how can you know these things?! darkheart said you wouldnt be able to know... she said that you held her prisoner... that you tortured her... she said that you- you killed my father."
lucian shook his head and wiped something from his face, revealing gruesome scars. "she altered her face to look like mine... look, and know the truth." he placed a claw on her forehead and she gasped as a flood of memories flooded her, darkheart inside lucian's mind, taking over him, taunting him, and forcing him to do terrible things. she heard lucian say, "she tortured me, she held me captive. its true that stacra destroyed the world, but look also;" she saw the corrupt government of old, and their wretched attrocities. "they brought about their own destruction. we created the world you know, but dont wish it to be taken over, we merely want peace...We act as peacekeepers. darkheart seeks to enslave all to do her bidding. and your father died at darkheart's talons, not mine." sasha saw a gruesome scene as lucian tried to save her father.
she felt him withdraw, and felt the magic and ice withdraw from her, the ice's touch fading from her ****. she shivered and crouched low, warming her body.
"sasha, darkheart is a liar... she's been at it for thousands of years." he watched her shiver and said. "come, sit around the fire."
sasha noddded and followed close behind lucian, hiding her vulnerable state.
"i'm sorry, master."
"all will be okay, sasha... all will be fine.."
lucian brought sasha into his study under his wing. he had her sit down in front of the fire and draped a blanket over her. he sat down behind her, looking over the latest reports, waiting for her to speak. after a few minutes she sighed and looked back at lucian, tears forming in her eyes. "is everything you said true? Is darkheart nothing but a deceptionist?"
lucian looked up at her and nodded. "all of it was true. I'm sorry, sasha. darkheart is a gifted deceptionist and many of us have fallen for her tricks.  including me."
sasha turned back and looked into the fire with sad eyes, tears rolling down her cheek. she shuddered and took a shaky breath. lucian came up beside her and placed a comforting paw on her shoulder.
"darkheart forced me to **** my best friend... a she-drake named Clia... in front of her other followers to show that we must be able to turn on anyone to fulfill the mission..."
lucian nodded, "so I had heard... darkheart has become more cruel than ever."
"l-lucian, what can i do to make her pay?"
lucian thought for a while and then shook his head. "let me think more on this, sasha. for now, let no one know that you are an affiliate of darkheart, it could have deadly consequence. you may remain in here if you wish, or you may return to your own quarters. i have some things to attend to."
sasha nodded to him and gasped as everything went still and dimmed, even the fire seemed grey and frozen.
"wha-"
"sasha... you must tell me now, will you work with me?"
she was stunned. "where are you? what do you mean?"
"you want to get back at her, i know how to. but you must tell me if you will work with me."
"i-i will, lucian. but whhy ask now, and in this way?"
"because, there is someone here, that is going to try to **** you. he was listening to us and is going to attack you with magic. ive cast a spell that will give an apearance of death. just let the magic do its stuff and u'll do fine">
"but wait!"
"you must trust me, sasha."
all of a sudden, everything went back to normal, and lucian was gone, she could hear his fading footsteps.
what was that abou- wait! the killer... she kept facing the fire and listened as she had been taught to the clawsteps of the incoming dragon.
"is it true? you're one of them?!"
sasha turned and gasped, flashing him a shocked, innocent look over her shoulder. "what are you talking about, kovu?"
he was angry, and she was struck with fear. "i overheard you and lucian talking. i heard everything."
sasha turned to face him."y-you, heard everything..."
"then you are one of them! i cant beleive it... i cant beleive i trusted you."
kovu stepped forward and sasha's eyes shifted, trying to find a way out. "kovu, i- i can explain."
"you're nothing but a trickster, a deceptress! dont try to talk me out of this."
her heartbeat quickened, stricken with dread. "out of... out of what, kovu?"
he said nothing but uttered the death spell.
*      *    
sasha let herself go, remembering lucian's spell. but as she did so, she thought about why she was doing this. *to make darkheart suffer...
she heard lucian in her mind. "you'll be going to death-sleep for a while, a few days to make it beleivable. now sleep, sasha... sleep and i will awaken you soon."
"o-okay, master lucian..."
"there is no need to call me master anymore, sasha. from now on, you no longer exist. which is why darkheart will never see you coming. its time... dont worry."
the death-sleep overcame her and she fell to darkness.
*   * *
lucian ran downstairs and saw kovu standing over sasha's body. he put on a facade of dread and said, "kovu.... what have you done?!"
kovu looked at lucian angrily. "you were going to harbor a killer... i took care of the problem."
lucian became angry now, "no, you made more problems. you didnt think... you didnt listen. she was willing to help."
kovu snarled at lucian, "i did what needed to be done. I killed her for you, father."
lucian responded quietly, "you killed a helpless dragoness in cold blood. i have no choice but to arrest you for ******, my son." he muttered a binding spell and blocked kovu's magic. he watched kovu struggle for a moment then went to pick up sasha's seemingly lifeless body. he contacted her mentally, saying, "i'm taking your body in to the infirmary, i'll oversee your examination. in 2 days, i will wake you, when i do, be very quiet."
"yes, sir."
sasha's new appearance was stunning, quite different from the black color of her original scales, she now looked like each scale was a glittering saphire, and her horns and underside were now a shimmering silver. sasha was astonished by what lucian had done, he had also changed her voice and form, making her more slender and agile, he altered her voice in such a way that it seemed that she could charm the heart out of a rock. even lucian who had a mate of his own had to keep himself composed. but he was undoubtedly pleased that things were turning out well. lucian had to change everything about her, her eyes now a deep green, her draconic fingerprint being her tail-tip and spine, were changed to furry mane and a slender diamond tip.
she looked at herself in amirror and remarked how mature she looked.
"you may have to be put in certain situations which may have you exploit some... erm... feminine charms."
"so i'll have to...."
"only if you let it go that far. it depends on you. you said that you'd  do anything to get back at darkheart. these matters are up to your own discretion."
she thought long about this. "i want to g
this is a book i'm still writing.
Ete Dec 2011
We are consciousness, and only consciousness.

The consciousness that is somehow bound to the body, is conscious of everything.

Thoughts are like people moving around in the market place. Thoughts are everywhere and when we give our attention to thoughts, when our consciousness looks at thoughts, which are everywhere to be seen, which are all around us, we experience thinking.

It is very important that we understand that we are consciousness and only consiousness.

This way we can free ourselves from the prison that we are in but yet don't know we are in. Humanity is enslaved thanks to the mind. Not just because the mind exists, but because of the believes that we carry in the mind, which are believes that keep us limited. We believe things that are not truly true, and this keeps us in a kind of prison.

When we are born in a body, we are free and we are just consciousness, purely conscious.

As we grow, all the information that is already here in the world is ingested into our mind. As we continue to grow, and as all this information continues to grow in our mind, we start to forget that we are just pure consciousness. By the time we are teenagers, and by the time we start to become adults, we have totally forgotten that we are just consciousness and we live our lives in a little box because we limit ourselves with the believes that are inevitably conditioned upon us. We believe that we are this body and we are not this body. When i say we, i am talking about the consciousness, the pure consciousness.

And the problem is not only that we believe we are this body, but we grow the habit to think compulsively.

Anything in this world can become a habit, and for the mayority of humanity , thinking has become a habit.

So what happens?
The pure consciousness that you are is never pure, is never silent, is never fully conscious because first of all, we are taught to believe that we are the body-mind, and second of all, we grow the habit to always think by always having to judge ourselves to see if what  we are doing is right or wrong, to see if we are to be punished or if we are to be rewarded. And this supports and strengthens the believe that we are the thinker, that we are the body.

When we don't allow spaces of no-thought, of no-thinking, we forget that we are an empty sky.  

My effort on leaving behind all these words is to wake up as many people as possible.

People are missing a great opportunity.

People stay living in a little room when they can be living in a huge palace.

All that has to do be done is to find a little distance between thoughts, between feelings, between everything and always remain a watching presence. Now, we are always this watching presence, we are always consciousness even if we are unconscious about it. Even if we are unconscious about the fact that we are consciousness , we remain consciousness. For example, all animals are consciousness, they are awareness, but they are unaware of this. Their body limits them because it lacks intelligence. They are not fully and totally free and they can not be either. But at the same time they don't have to be. By nature they  don't have to be intelligent, they are fine just how they are and they are in the process of one day becoming conscious like we are, like the humans are. Still, there are many humans who remain unconscious of the fact that they are consciousness and only consciousness. Without shape, without form. Just consciousness, awareness, everywhere. This whole universe is consciousness and when this consciousness is merged to a body, the body is simply a contact point of the consciousness.

At some point, when the body of a baby is being developed in the mothers womb, a little spec of consciousness enters and binds to the body of the baby and this happens because through the human body, through a human experience, the consciousness is capable of becoming aware of itself and this realization is possible in any one life time, in any one human experience. But, it has not been so. It has taken many many life-times and many many people have not yet realized this. People can't even believe that they had a life before this life and that they can have a life after this life as well. People can't even conceive this. But it is true. People have been going life after life, obviously and naturally not remembering the past life, but going life after life not going beyond life. Not going beyond the human or atleast not even understanding, discovering, learning , what life is, what the human is. People remain ignorant and afraid because of the conditioning that they receive.

All conditions prevent the being from trascending their lives and consciousness because in our true nature we are totally unconditioned- free-beings. Any condition that is imposed on us goes against our very nature and anything that goes against nature is bound to have problems.  

And so my reason for saying these things that i have discovered to be true in me, is to help people remember or to atleast give people a new idea that there is the possibility of something more, of something greater than life, something with no limitations, something with no death, something that can not get sick, that can not feel pain, something of pure joy and peace , of pure love.

Every single human being is searching for this something, every single human being is searching for themselves. And they are searching because they remember. They have been themselves before. They are themselves right now. They are consciousness right now, but there are so many things in the mind that they forgot and they dont know. And when they hear something that is true, when something is said that points to that consciousness, automatically something is felt inside, something is triggered.

This whole search for truth or for enlightenment is a search for our own selfs.

It is a remembering process that happens.

Go into this search as empty as possible.

The less conditions you carry , the less knowledge you carry, the more simple and humble you are, the easier it is to remember who you are, because it does not take knowledge to know that you are consciousness, that you are awareness, it simply takes consciousness and awareness.

So it is important to be aware of everything, of every single thought that comes in and out. Be aware of the believes that you believe and the believes that you don't believe.

I don't know if there are people who for some reason are not ready to awaken, even though they can, even though every single human being can awaken, but,  there are people who have put too much into their believes, too much faith, and who can not even concieve the idea of dropping these believes, these investments. Now, the funny thing is, that even all these people who are unaware, are consciousness themselves. And it makes sense that these people who are unconscious , are here in the world so that other people can wake up, so that other people can learn from them, so that other people can see their unconsciousness, can see their behaviors, and use them towards their journey, towards their enlightenment, towards their shift of consciousness.  

"We are itself the consciousness presenting itself as human nature" - Mooji.

We , the consciousness, invisible consciousness that can not be seen nor touched, which one day was before Earth was created, that consciousness that is everywhere like space, over time has manifested itself in the world of form, in the world of matter and eventually through the movement of what appears to be time, manifested itself as a human being.

It is an invisible yet conscious phenomena that has managed to make a form out of atoms and elements, managed to make a form out of itself, out of elements of itself, and managed to create the world that we can see today. And seeing the vastness of the universe, we can see the many possibilities that exist, the many possibilities of consciousness to keep growing, to keep creating, to keep expanding, to keep evolving.  

One day i am not going to be able to express myself through Esteban, yet i will be expressing myself through other bodies, with other names. And i have been expressing myself through other bodies also, like for example one of my favorite man, Osho, Bhagwan. Osho is I. Osho is the same consciousness that is in Esteban, expressing. Now, we look different in the outside, our voices are different, our accents are different, but it is the same consciousness trying to express the same thing. Once we know that we are this limitless consciousness, we can start focusing on creating things. But right now what is important is that everybody realizes that we are this consciousness, because if not everybody knows this, then we can not create, we can not work to our full potential. Once we know who we are, once we know WHAT we are, we will know exactly what we have to do, what we can do, and we would do it with a quality that has not existed before. A quality of super consciousness, a godly quality. So before we focus on the outside world we have to focus on the inside world first. Before we can create beauty outside we have to create beauty inside, because the outside world is a reflection of the inside world.

If the inside world is not pure, is not balanced, then the outside world will not be pure, will not be balanced.

If inside of us there is tension, anxiety, fear, hate, anger, violence; this is what will be expressed outside of us. If inside of us there is love, wisdom, peace, joy, beauty; then outside of us there will be all of this as-well.

The problem is not whether we are thinking negatively or positively, the problem is that we are thinking unconsciously.

That we think negative or positive thoughts does not matter as long as we know that we are thinking. And not because we are the thinker but because thoughts are passing through the mind and here the consciousness that we are , "thinks". But it does not think as in it is doing something, it simply sees the thoughts. The consciousness does not even move, does not even blink, does not have eyes like these eyes. The consciousness just is, and the consciousness sees thoughts moving, occuring.

The problem is not that the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, the problem is that if the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, it believes the negative thoughts.

You forget that you are the awareness that watches thoughts, totally separate from the thoughts.

You are simply giving attention to the thoughts.

Like i said before, thoughts are moving all around you. You can not see or grab them because they are so subtle in their manifestation, yet they ARE energy in movement, they exist but in different frequencies of existence. And they are everywhere.

When we experience thoughts, what ever category of thoughts, it is because we are giving our attention to those thoughts. Every single thought is available to us. The mind is not just your mind, my mind; The mind is one universal facility, available to all.

And so, the problem is not that you are thinking negativily.

The problem is that you are thinking unconsciously.

Become more conscious of your thinking. Become conscious of thoughts. If the thoughts are negative, watch them. If the thoughts are positive, watch them. But don't judge them as negative or positive, dont judge the thinking. If negative thoughts are percieved, don't start saying to yourself  "oh why am im always thinking negatively? ;( " because this IS another thought and you are not watching it. Usually THIS is the thought that is not watched.

You watch a thought, for example, you watch a negative thought. This negative thought brings out negative emotions because thoughts are the cause of emotions. Emotions are energies-in-motion. You watch your thinking, you watch the negative thought and then you say, "oh this thought is bad, why am i thinking these thoughts? I should not be thinking this way, what is wrong with me?" that right there is a thought also and you are thinking, believing, that it is you!

Any judgement is a form of thought.

Anything that consists of words or symbols and even images are thoughts. It is all mind and the problem is that there are thoughts that are not being watched, observed, and this is keeping you unconscious and troubled.

There are many thoughts that we are not aware of.

For example, we watch a negative thought , we percieve a negative thought, but then the next thought that talks about that negative thought, we don't see because we think, believe, that we are the one who talks instead of remaining the watching consciousness that we are.

We are not the one who talks because we don't even have a mouth to talk through. We are simply and only consciousness. We use the human body as an instrument to talk and express ourselves but we remain the conscious awareness.

Those thoughts that are not being watched are keeping us from going deeper into life.

These unobserved thoughts are keeping us traped in the mind.

So if you ever ask yourself the question, what is life?
What is my purpose in life?
What should i do?
What should i not do?
If you are not out of the mind, you will not get the true answer because the mind is limited to these questions.

The mind will only give you that which has already been given. It will not give you originality.

Simply try this out:

When ever you are experiencing thinking, let the thoughts be, don't judge them as negative or positive thoughts, as good or bad thoughts, just watch them. If you do judge them and you say "*** why am i thinking that?! " watch that, watch that judgement. Keep watching, just simply watching, purely aware of every single thought, keep watching and you will start to feel a distance, a silence, a space.

See how long you can go from thought to no-thought to thought.
See how long you can remain in a silent gap between thoughts.
Watch your thoughts, watch your thinking and see how the watchingness slowly expands.
See how the silent gaps become longer.
And see the peace that these silent gaps bring.
John K Trainer May 2014
Soul
Alive, astir
Gliding, enshroud, obscure
Awaken my tormented soul
Nomad
A cinquain poem
Brycical Sep 2013
Forward minds rewind-- loose from time's spider web
meeting at the cherry blossom tree, a cool winter's breeze rustles leaves.  
She say the dominoes begun to fall,
we agree to meet again, breadcrumbs in hand.

Meeting at the cherry blossom tree, a cool summer's breeze rustles leaves--
the dawns of many pass; thousands of seasons change.
We agree to meet again, breadcrumbs in hand;
together, planning an escape from our sacred safe-haven cave.

The dawns of many pass; thousands of seasons change...
still waiting on others to awaken and meet at the ancient table--
together, planning an escape from our sacred safe-haven cave
re-membering ageless words, to awaken throngs from their zombie-like state.  

Still waiting on others to awaken and meet at the ancient table--
you, having doubts, I, lacking a confident self until
re-membered ageless words, to awaken throngs from their zombie-like state.  
Love vibrations shake all of the wrong foundations loose.

You, having doubts, I, lacking a confident self until
forward minds rewind-- loose from time's spider web.
Love vibrations shake all of the wrong foundations loose--
you say *the dominoes begun to fall.
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
Suicide is not an option.


There are times in your life, when time is not on your side,
But please do not rush to your death,
I have no wish to see you die.
I intend to lay here, by your side
And awaken you with a kiss, in the morning light.


For suicide is not an option, I shall let you choose,
Suicide is not an option, I shall let you take.
I wouldn’t want to grieve the loss of such beauty,
So please don’t go away.


For you are everything this poor boy needs,
To sleep at ease each night.
You give me my reason to struggle on, try as life might,
To take me out, I’m going to stand solidly at your side,
For your love gives me strength
And holding your hand gives me such pride.


You are my reason for continuing to live,
No matter what this life may throw at me.
I wish I could mean as much to you,
So if you love me, then suicide you cannot think,
Is a viable option you can seriously take.
Please my love, don’t let me awaken to your corpse today.
Please my love I would do anything,
Whatever it takes, to give you a reason to live.


But suicide is not an option, I shall let you choose;
Suicide is not an option, I shall let you take.
I wouldn’t want to grieve the loss of such beauty,
So please don’t go away.


Have you really given up on us?
Have you had enough of me?
Do you mean it when you say I have your love?
Or are you simply saying that to get what you need?
Because I want you to know I love you so,
This is why I can’t let you just go.


So suicide is not an option, I can let you choose,
Suicide is not an option, I can let you take.
I could not grieve the loss of such beauty,
So please don’t leave me today.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Kemy Sep 2018
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.

Jennifer Aniston
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It is not the nature of things or people to satisfy us,
but to awaken in us the desire to be satisfied.
For all of this Earth’s wonder and beauty and mystery,
it's only meant to serve as a great cosmic magnet
pulling us to our Source. May every scent and song,
every shadow and sorrow move us ever closer to Him.
"'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...
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."
~ Isaiah 55:1-3,6,12
phil roberts Jul 2017
Do not dream too loudly
You may awaken your conscience

                                        By Phil Roberts
Waleed Khalidi Dec 2014
Did you see the bliss
Shoot across the night sky?
Here then there so quickly
Like a blink could project its moment
Yet when crumbling
Into the quake of memory
It is the window's remaining rain
Trickling down so slowly after the storm
Until all that is left is its drying trail
Clear to see the tired clouds sink behind
A heart so weathered
Never truly sleeps. Never rests
The hallow beats manifest
Into the crippling visions of the night
Blanketed by such distress
Until the rising light does nothing
But awaken the regrets that were left on the nightstand
Like a book with one chapter
No where left to turn
Do you see the ache
Shining dim in the night sky?
Like a footprint in the moon's dust
As alone as one could ever walk
Do you see the shame?
Like forty dying stars
Their fiery, blazing eyes
Watching every paranoid jitter
one of Lorca's best lines
is,
"agony, always
agony ..."
think of this when you
**** a
cockroach or
pick up a razor to
shave
or awaken in the morning
to
face the
sun.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
This is not where this idea began but it ran and I

missed my mark. Mark sin.
-1 deficit reality quotientcy
currency.  Sure.
(Press Sure, to let the bursting pressure equilation expand at will)
Score.

That fine a level of reality
demands more attention than I have to pay.
Patient agent wait and not see or see if/then

you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are some of those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is,
but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments.
Is it?

Apophrenia
or mere
Dejavu, you believe,
what if it is your memory lying by ignoring time
attention ratios determining the observations stored in HD?
What if it's just a glitch?
Blue screen of death.


If you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but
is it silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments?

We come and go. To and fro up on the face

messengers bearing news in both directions, watch
the trickster, Jacob, in this story, he sees the messengers from
heaven bearing leaven thither and hither

upon the face of the earth.
the wrinkling mother, smiling now, chuckle head
I ain't no ***** saint.

Jah, I know. Joy is my dance, this is my song.
Is it good Grandmother?

---- on the porch facing my west gate ---

fences don't play exactly, out acted, the role of walls.

The idea that something
there is that does not love a wall,
has frozen my pond

the stillness beyond the sylvan **** crowned head
radiates through the medium of the message to me in time
to you.

Miles to go, you recall the feeling of feeling miles to go
before
I sleep.
That was yesterday, and you know yes ter everything's gone,
roar.

Aslan can pierce the barrier between mere Christians and me,
how would be fun to know, but
knowing why would help us keep the story interesting as life goes on

Who controls my peace?
Am I a mercurial sheen in between chaos and order,
chronus and zeus?
Could be, ya thank so, ye know so, less unlessed as

unlessing means nothing to you,
that means you are visiting here.

Visting whom, vis it ing whom?
Who's in charge, where's the power
short

age, wrinkles in time, rogue waves at the quanta scale,
we were dancing
with the thoughts emanating

from some IDW smart guy proffesing
Critique-technic-magi action, post mode'r'ism
at the point of Dada und Scheizkunst,
the unmass-queque,
the line of lies awaiting unbelief,
idle words lingering,
hoping
to be noticed and added back into the story book of life,

a simple wish.

It could be every child's, should we think that
if we can or may,

sometimes I'm still, and

confusion troubles the water,
it seems,
then another hurt is healed, another lie is gone and life goes on

we won again, this never gets old,
I do love my opposition,
pressure pump
pump pump. De-us-me-can-onbeoffbeyond

five years ago unmasking and rhetoric meant nothing to me
the purpose of learning forever and never
knowing anything beyond all things

our bubble is metastasizing, a mercurial film forms
informing us
in its reflection,

this is the ying yang thang in 3 or 4 d, HD+ chaos one half

order the other,
sharpest imaginable thing
me trick being mag ift just if eye winged show

how beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news,
you see, it flows, sweetwater flows
winged feet
whish through leaving, leavin' leaven…

unleaven that which has been leaved?
Fat chance, all who
eat this bread and don't get gas,
they are our same bread people. Companions.
Vectors of sour dough,
webs of fungal
axions
make a way
bore, pore, poor-with-us, pour

in to it ish, that idea, an opening through,
trickle down good gravity leveling stillness,
gentle rocking earth
roll round and round and round

the pythagorean version
of Euclid's point in his mother's story,

the point of this song? To know the point you must have been

to the point of in-forming the point on which we dance and you recall

we come in threes, and just, we are, just, if it, that idea,
rests in your
back roads, gentle on your mind. We make peace.

Being young is easy from my POV.
I've lived in my future for sometime now

I can't say how, beyond saying aloud, this was never hidden,
in my accounting of idle words I claimed,
upon hearing the stories each contained.

i'da swore i hear that wise *** o'balaam's abrayin'
Braindeem, deemed 'eem. Wham, uptheyhaid. Relig, fool,

or chaos wins and no hero ever lives again!
Drop anchor, wait it out.
let patience blow her nose, gnostic snot caught in the nets,

nonono nothing's wasted in patience work, we make glue
from gnostic snot that patience sneezes
when reality grows cold,

that has happened, you know, temperatures are just now,
oh, wait global warming, bad dam,

Script, bust it,
leveling is essential to eventual temperature
equilibrium.
The heat is on, the bubbles are forming, informing one to another
below the surface
greasy tension, slippery slopes putting pressure on chaos
to conform to the curve

Ying yang, mercury film upon the sea of time and the scene of chaos
in this bubble of all you can imagine real.

Hows' that feel? Why?

You want that? What are you standing under? Does chaos win?
You are, as we say, cognisic magi we-ified,
practical magic at
the moment
the point
is made, then the creation begins fractalling outward

and not before or is this all
unrolling ex nihilo, no magi ever knew…
come, let us reason together,

why am I empowered? To live, first thought wise, that's good but
evil forces me to think again and I see the pattern

life goes on, John Molenkamp, Sam, soldier 4,
(as the credits role by, the name catches my eye)
never in a thousand years,
'cept unbelievable is one of those lies I came to **** by strangling
on bile while
rescuing every idle word ever involved in the infection

from the point in the absolute center of the bubble,
objectively, you see everything
that is
seeable

but would good prevail if evil had no hope?

I know that one, yes. why?
evil has no mind, soul, some think--
same same medium message spoken spelled chanted danced
who care's?
*** 'er done. Life has a chaotic side, the churning creates

number one from none, the cult of one divides itself
go do be
we three we three we three a wavy song ding ****.

Aware? Awaken? Avowed-wowed-wit-wise,
fullcomp, retired
Peacemaker. Me.

All my hero's imagined or real, were Peacemakers.
Just now, peaceful now, mindful now
we remain
the same blessing promised in the package of yeses
stolen from Cain by his older sister, his
bride,
keep that quiet, eh?

Secrets made sacred, always
those are lies, no lie is of the truth,
all lies are about the truth.

What empowers you, poet or poetry? Right, you know,
God, good god knows, resentment lives in lies

the rotting idle words deemed curses at best, secret at worst,
those idle corrupting thoughts sparking as if absolute annihilation were thinkable by rational minds

of ---wait, there's arub, a sore
ex nihilo, the homeless wanderer screams,

"May the whole world perish, may you all go to hell,"

the mad man wept his hell, and imagined his curse,

not mine,
I don't have one. I did, but I went back so often to find pieces of my heart that now I have an Elysian network woven through All-hell, the big idea that broke loose infecting the mind as wisdom's leaven builds her womb
inhabitation
placenta
stem cell informing builders empowered, pressure empowered, what must be, but is not verse, versus
us, the we that be
we must
choose,

let this be, come and see,
life goes on.
Agree, or empower us as we bubble by and
takenallwecan expanding gobbling bubbles,
good
by ye.

Once we flushed the Dada poison and let mito mom
instill the patience gene with
epigenetic peace we can pass on with a touch or a word,

we've never woven lies for no reason,
if a rung breaks
and they can, last straw and all that weight,
you know,
Jacob's ladder is an escalaltor-ladder, wittily invented,

there are automated steps, algoryhmes of reasons to repair the broken rung
with a reason to believe the rung has been repaired,
only believe, take a step,
re
paired again with the idea of meaninglessness masked in create-if-ity

good enough. okeh. don't believe lies.
Don't pass undigested lies to see if farts burn.
Listening to Hicks Explaing Post Modernism after watching Tenant's Voltage Within spark a fire. This reality is storyteller heaven.
Cingyeng Vang Aug 2018
Sunflowers follow the sun
They sleep when the sun sleeps
And awake when the sun awakes
The heat of the sun can set many things to ablaze
But can also awaken life and reveal what the dark has hidden from your face

You are the sun and I, your sunflower
I was once asleep
Then You arose
And then I arose
You are the sun and I, your sunflower
I follow wherever you go.

John 11: 43-44
Jesus resurrected from the dead and by doing so he also awoken me.
jane taylor Jun 2016
his writing caught everyone’s attention
like an artist i once saw on the street in québec
he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal
i asked to take his picture
he obliged

this writer is also canadian
and paints masterpieces
with words

his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges
brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged
for starker strokes of reality
tinged with weathered wisdom
creating shadows in his work
accentuating the light

there’s not a write of his
that does not stir emotions
his words linger
rolling around in your head
bumping into each other
morphing into new connotations
his easel alive

you wonder if he did that on purpose?
could anyone have that kind of talent?
yes…..his brush continues flowing
even after the paint is dry

suddenly at midnight i awaken
and hear another morsel
a word, a phrase, a color
that only made itself known
in the dark of night

understanding he's a favorite
i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh
when he contracted cancer
would he now leave his canvas dry?

no, this courageous artist
bravely took his palette
and continued painting
his words that us awaken
now e’vn more radiant
with tragedy astride

and ‘tho he talks of dying
i pray that he will stay
but should his spirit fly
we have seen a master show us
how to walk into the light

©2016janetaylor
this poem is dedicated to fellow poet chris who just passed away
we love you chris!!!
http://poetfreak.com/705083/chris-vaillancourt-rip.html
Fredrick Fannin Dec 2014
Oh what a fight, push shove duck Dodge.

Miss count dance prounce, Oh what a fight.

Bob Weave trick up my sleeve, Oh what a fight.

Toss turn ive awaken, It was just a dream But, Oh what a fight.
I love to dream.
You're not a mirror
You're not a books

Even not a songs
And not a portrait


Yet  you inspired me
Set a fire inside


Lost but now found
My soul strengthen


Awaken and alive
Through, the words to ponder


Seen myself again
Boastful ends


So, when you stand
I give an ears again.
down
  down
    down
      down
        down
          down
            deep
              below

children of the caves will let their
secret fires glow
~~~

An explosion of birds
Dawn
Sun strokes the walls
An old man leaves the Casino
A young man reading pauses
on the path to the garden
~~~

Bitter winter
Fiction dogs are starving
The radio is moaning softly
calling to the dogs
There are still a few
animals left in the yard

Sit up all night,
talking smoking
Count the dead & wait
’til morning
Will warm names & faces
come again
Does the silver forest end?
~~~

December Isles
Hot morning chambers
of the New Day
Idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we’ve had our chance to rest
to mourn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
(she whispers secret messages
of love in the garden
to her friends, the bees)
The garden would be here
forevermore
~~~

Mexican parachute
Blue green pink
Invented of Silk
& stretched on grass
Draped in the trees
of a Mexican Park
T-shirt boys in their
Slumbering art
~~~

-I fear that he’s been
maim’d beyond all
recognition

He hears them come &
murmur over his corpse.

Street Pizza.
~~~

funny,
I keep expecting a
knock on the door
well, that’s what you
get for living around
people

a Knock? would shatter
my dreams’ illusions
deportment & composure
The struggle of a poor poet
to stay out of the grips
of novels & gambling
& journalism
~~~

A quality of ignorance,
self-deception may be
necessary to the poet’s
survival.
~~~

Actors must make us think
they’re real
Our friends must not
make us think we’re acting

They are, though, in slow
Time

My wild words
slip into fusion
& risk losing
the solid ground

So stranger, get
wilder still

Probe the Highlands
~~~

Bourbon is a wicked brew, recalling
courage milk, refined poison
of cockroach & tree-bark, leaves
& fly-wings scraped from the
land, a thick film; menstrual
fluids no doubt add their splendour.
It is the eagle’s drink.
~~~

Why do I drink?
So that I can write poetry.

Sometimes when it’s all spun out
and all that is ugly recedes
into a deep sleep
There is an awakening
and all that remains is true.
As the body is ravaged
the spirit grows stronger.

Forgive me Father for I know
what I do.
I want to hear the last Poem
of the last Poet.
Cné Mar 2016
Mentally beginning anew,
Shower and storms scramble,
A mind, a mess, stuck in the cold of blue,
Writhing in pain without preamble.

A season after the cries of winter,
The tears of petals shed,
Flows hope once more enter
Where a broken heart bleed.

Relief of breath ooze,
As fragile blooms of forgiveness peek,
Through darken days of self abuse,
To nurture the delicate emotional physique,

Healing in time blind,
Pure instinct survives,
An emotional breakdown of the mind.
Until finally, awaken spring arrives.
In winter, depression manages to take its strong grip on me, almost strangling me. Spring is a breath of fresh air to my mind, with its negative inner voice.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
And just like coffee.
Let your aroma tingle and stimulate the smiles of those around.
The best source of touch
Without cream or sugar.
Stir the organic presentation that brings the next minute that much closer.
Whether the preference is a mug or a styrofoam cup.
Remember,
At the end of the day.
Coffee fits into any size container
And brings to life any size smile.
With one quick sip
The senses awake to a new day.
Swirled in unspoken travel sized rule.
It follows,
The beautiful ovation that rushes once poured.
Beautifully represented by your smile.
The tone of your skin.
Your hair naturally at ease.
Stirred by a finger.
Specialism by the majority nodding away,
Yet awaken by your essence.
Soon extracted and brought to life.
Swirling beyond content.
And just like coffee,
I look forward to a cup of you
and the sun weilds mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
and the boys get out the maps
and pin-cuishon the moon,
old green cheese,
no life there but too much on earth:
our unwashed India boys
crosssing their legs,playing pipes,
starving with ****** in bellies,
watching the snakes volute
like beautiful women in the hungry air;
the rockets leap,
the rockets leap like hares,
clearing clump and dog
replacing out-dated bullets;
the Chineses still carve
in jade,quietly stuffing rice
into their hunger, a hunger
a thousand years old,
their muddy rivers moving with fire
and song, barges, houseboats
pushed by drifting poles
of waiting without wanting;
in Turkey they face the East
on their carpets
praying to a purple god
who smokes and laughs
and sticks fingers in their eyes
blinding them, as gods will do;
but the rockets are ready: peace is no longer,
for some reason,precious;
madness drifts like lily pads
on a pond circling senselessly;
the painters paint dipping
their reds and greens and yellows,
poets rhyme their lonliness,
musicians starve as always
and the novelists miss the mark,
but not the pelican , the gull;
pelicans dip and dive, rise,
shaking shocked half-dead
radioactive fish from their beaks;
indeed, indeed, the waters wash
the rocks with slime; and on wall st.
the market staggers like a lost drunk
looking for his key; ah,
this will be a good one,by God:
it will take us back to the
sabre-teeth, the winged monkey
scrabbling in pits over bits
of helmet, instrument and glass;
a lightning crashes across
the window and in a million rooms
lovers lie entwined and lost
and sick as peace;
the sky still breaks red and orange for the
painters-and for the lovers,
flowers open as they always have
opened but covered with thin dust
of rocket fuel and mushrooms,
poison mushrooms; it's a bad time,
a dog-sick time-curtain
act 3, standing room only,
SOLD OUT, SOLD OUT, SOLD OUT again,
by god,by somebody and something,
by rockets and generals and
leaders, by poets , doctors, comedians,
by manufacturers of soup
and biscuits, Janus-faced hucksters
of their own indexerity;
I can now see now the coal-slick
contanminated fields, a snail or 2,
bile, obsidian, a fish or 3
in the shallows, an obloquy of our
source and our sight.....
has this happend before? is history
a circle that catches itself by the tail,
a dream, a nightmare,
a general's dream, a presidents dream,
a dictators dream...
can't we awaken?
or are the forces of life greater than we are?
can't we awaken? must we foever,
dear freinds, die in our sleep?
maggie pollock Feb 2014
As we grow with the passing of time
Life becomes more serious with less fun,
Life's pressures lay heavy upon us
And with the passing of time
Less able we become.

We must re-awaken the child within
In our heart the child lives on,
A jewel that sparkles and glistens
We see again through a child's eyes
We remember wonders and magic long gone.

Life was meant to be a wonderful journey
But as adults we have many illusory fears,
When we awaken the child within
Our burdens become much lighter
And we become younger than our years.

Awaken the child within
Life becomes an adventure once more,
Look in wonder at the birds in the sky
Listen to the voice of Mother Nature
And you will feel your spirit soar.

In our heart we are forever young
And until we die we always will be,
Although the years have taken their toll
When we awaken the child within
From life's chains we will be free.
Sandra Jun 2014
Why is it
When I see your face
All I could think of, is how much I miss you?
How much I want to keep laughing
And hugging
And cuddling you.
How much I want to keep you safe inside my arms
While your voice kept on mumbling about her.

I just can't help myself
From loving you
Even though you still don't understand it.

Why am I trying so hard to give you as much lights as I can
When I don't even have a small gleam to keep myself awaken
And alive?

All you're doing, is break me and hide the scars
Putting on as many band-aids as you can
And making my skin joins up together again
But you never take the time
To look inside my flesh
And see how much veins, and thews you have tore.

You flip my world upside-down
You break my bones all the time
You kissed my hopes away
Can you at least fix me once again?
it looks like you have my heart again.

— The End —