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Oda Jan 2021
"The Drawn Ones
Not the chosen ones."
~Oda

"Let's go... thru Melodic Existence
Into Hypnotizing Non-Existence..."
~Oda


You can say it
However you want so
But things, come
and go.
Passing by
All Beginningless Time,
The River of
Never-Ending Lifetimes...

Sinous Word flow
Of Ever Rhyming
Saying So's;

So you can say...

Since Beginningless Time
Yet it could Never Be...

And so goes on to Culminate
Paradoxically United...
Becoming Defined
In You Looking back at it
Once Again....

....But otherwise,
A Prison of The Mind
Lost in the
Illusory Tide...


...And with each Passing Facade
Forms Begin to take Shape...
And So The Soul
Begins to Focal-Point,
Preluding a Flowing
Of Coming and Goings...

....Thru Melodic Existence



....Into Hypnotizing Non-Existence

....So it will go;
The Push and Pull
The Ebb and Flow
The Ying and Yang
A look into the Universe thru the lens of my wonderfully driven mad soul.
Rose L Jan 2017
Get me a boat
And let me discard my shoes and float soundlessly away from loneliness.
Amidst these dark waters I do not believe I can capsize -
Because I ride this endless sea in search of half-remembered blue eyes.
I fall in love all at once, and much much too quickly.
I patrol the beaches, heart heavy with glances from strangers in dark rooms and corridors.
Get me this boat, and god, let me leave quietly, as the red Margate sun comes up.
I want to search for someone else to love -
I want so desperately to love !
If I find beneath the sea another boat of strangers waiting for me
Then I shall be on New Land again.
Populated with glances on trains, soft greetings, beginningless romances -
Rushed smiles and other couple's dances.
I am lost, lost, lost to this sea...
The silent sea, creaking mass of serenity -
Oh god - If only I weren't so in love with humanity.
This poem is about when you see someone across the street or in a bar or in a dream that you fall haplessly in love with for a few moments. It's been happening more and more lately.
Nic Sutcliffe Jul 2017
As I watch the waning of this Capricorn moon
Powerlessness and sorrow at heart
She takes with her the last light
Canvases the sky in dark
I know she'll rise again
Moonset followed by glorious moonrise
But it's all different now
Her reflection leaves my eyes

She'll always be up there
Painfully out of reach
Me forever the student
Of the lessons she would teach
So many questions
So much unknown
But forever grateful
For the way that I've grown

The waxing and waning
Moonrise and moonset
Controlling the tides of my Soul
Before we ever met
She's Always been there
Since Beginningless time
Now her synchronised heart
Is no longer mine

I talk to the moon daily
In a language unspoken
She knows of my dreams
Knows the wolf she's awoken
But our song now has ended
I miss her so much
How can we dance more
If distance means we can't touch?

Had I only known
I would've, should've, what if?
Here and now though
Fear's choices forged a rift
I'm trying to accept this truth
Trying to accept my fate
So I sing my song in silence
The ballad of the Moon's Soulmate
There are those encounters that occur once in a lifetime, if you are fortunate enough.
Hold onto them with everything you are
Sean Hunt May 2016
I need to stop being me
There’s somebody else
That I want to be
I spend nearly all of my time
Thinking of me
Thinking of mine
I seem to be stuck
In this unwritten rhyme
Since beginningless time

Sean Hunt  May 2016
The ascension of human consciousness in the alchemy of time,

The Conscious, Sub conscious, & Super-Conscious Mind,

Place these thoughts in a conspicuous place,

Protected by Smith and Wesson glued to my second amendment,

Before we are born After we survive death,

Infinite intelligence calibrated,

A beginningless endless story with one eternal life,

Molecular mole diving through holes of motion,

E=mc2,

A lifetime conversation about the conservation of energy,

Modes of behavior adjusted to determined,

The mind exists and these are my minds exits,

Knowledge of the past present and future buried alive in my corpse,

Technical psychic underground psychologist,

Memory can not be replaced physically,

Informing every rational mortal,

Speak the truth and dare not make believe,

In a world of who you know rather then who you are myself is who I'm helping,

Coincidentally born December 5th ruled by planet five standing out in the midnight sky,

So i write to you Jupiter people on a Thursday made for Jupiterians,

They say Jupiter only returns in your life every dozen years as a hitchhikers guide to the galaxy,

A humble mumble from the concrete jungle,

The elephant on this galactic asteroid belt,

Collecting as much Tin to show you my appreciation....

My eye sockets are being closed by the forces of nature,

My mind will enact the dream catcher,

A motionless dance move i call the sleeper....

Stay gluten free......

Mythic personal healing

Or

Corporate pharmaceutical overseas dealing....
OnyxSea Nov 2017
What is the body,
but a pile of meat?
Moving around,
seeking only to eat?

What makes us human,
what makes us strong?
What is it that pulls us along?

Do we have a soul?
Or just a mind?
Do we have an identity,
beyond what we can define?

What exactly lasts,
what thing underlies,
our very existence,
whose meaning is undefined?

Some call it "soul",
others simply "mind,
yet there are others,
who call it not "mine".

The first sees an eventual, heavenly life,
borne from the sacrifice of a holy Christ,
or the forgiveness and judgement of a heavenly being,
or the results of past actions, coming into being.

The second sees the mind,
a product of the brain.
No different from nature,
which never ceases or begins.
Having existed since beginningless time,
what comes to be, eventually declines,
and one is returned, to the darkness underlined.

The 3rd is one, who does not distinguish,
he sees the body and mind,
not as one who would wish,
for a lasting identity, or an eternal peace,
nor does he see it, as one who just is.

Instead he sees things, unlikely as it may,
the aggregates of consciousness and body, clear as day.
He does not deceive himself, thinking of meaning,
nor does he lie, thinking himself as "body".

He separates the speculation of a soulless man,
as he does the thought of a mind separate from man.
He overcomes the dualities which we normally comprehend,
With a sight that sees, what is simply at hand.

The truth that this body, its aggregates and mind,
are all but products of our imaginary mind,
which projects and creates,
in an endless thought-pattern,
a speculation that is ceaseless,
an identity to be had.

Instead he deconstructs,
he sees the body as it is,
an aggregate of thoughts, perceptions and things.
He overcomes the idea of "suffering" that exists,
and does not cling to the idea of "pleasure" for bliss.
He rests in the nature that is rightfully so,
not overthinking, whether he has a soul.
Because such things, are deceptions coming to be,
by the ever-thinking mind, always deceiving thee.
Gregory K Nelson Mar 2019
Inspired by the late British soldier, activist, and explorer Henry Worsley …

I wish for the ice.
Wish for it endless.
Blue and black and white and gleaming.
Hard ice sparkling under a cold distant Sun
that rises and falls for me,
for you.

I Fight against but welcome Wind.
Wish to be a Good Man standing, walking,
cold, hungry, miserable but feeling that burn,
that burn of the existence of my destiny for Survival,
because I know better now that Survival is the capitalization of "god."
I ponder my place in Evolution, and feel in my chest the sad presence of a lonesome Ghost,
Feel that out there somewhere is a point where light and life are frozen,
but melting in Sunlight into sweet fresh water I wish to drink.

To walk further then further then beyond my conception of "Further",
navigating into the lethal helicopter-less void.
Legs aching then swaying then robotic they swing,
a perfect instrument of Man's will to freedom
but still simply humble rambling limbs.

I wish for the ice.
Wish for it endless.
Blue and black and white and gleaming.
Hard ice sparkling under a cold distant Sun
that rises and falls for me,
for you.

I Fight against but welcome Wind.
Wish to be a Good Man standing, walking,
cold, hungry, miserable but feeling that burn,
that burn of the existence of my destiny for Survival,
because I know better now that Survival is the capitalization of "god."
I ponder my place in Evolution, and feel in my chest the sad presence of a lonesome Ghost,
Feel that out there somewhere is a point where light and life are frozen,
but melting in Sunlight into sweet fresh water I wish to drink.

To walk further then further then beyond my conception of "Further",
navigating into the lethal helicopter-less void.
Legs aching then swaying then robotic they swing,
a perfect instrument of Man's will to freedom
but still simply humble rambling limbs.

This is my small history, and I realize why men
rarely make history alone:
The loneliness is unbearable,
but I bear it alone in this endless land of cold empty canvas.

To be so alone and close to death is to know it no longer matters if you are human.

To know nothing beyond the dark howling night and the strange redness amongst the stars Tonight.
To welcome the light but not care.
To push to keep moving anyway, slipping, stepping, determined with the sole goal of moving forward regardless of fire, or food, or how the bird flies.

In the Wind
I hear the band playing.
I feel my eyes weeping.
I feel my feet leaping.

Skipping forward, "progress not perfection," but remembering too much sweating is deadly once you stop moving it can freeze your sweaty ***** solid, gotta to be careful, but always moving.

My God, to scan the sun on the horizon
see the young women on the beach in bikinis,
but to move your legs with them.

To dance with hallucinations.
To live as a victim,
but be the crime.

To be nimble and quick and sing to God's children.
To be righteous and strong in the winds of God's vengeance.

No song other than a dream of tomorrow's music.
Nothing to visualize or interpret.
No more worries for Death or Life.

No "Being"
just transparent,
Endless,
beginningless.
A line never drawn.
An infinite negative number without digits or decimals or logic or rhyme.

You can't fix your broken past but still the Wind moves you,
or so the naked ex-lover moans as she writes,
unseen in the green growing tall grass.
She hides but she beckons.

The jail cell door swings open with a unoiled hospital sound,
open to a world I must recreate on my own from another place.
That **** symphony of a thousand clicking locks keeps playing bad blues,
I must start playing with that Band, and jam the music slowly into a form I can reconcile with my Heart.

Elsewhere the Wind breaks the sad old trees and they fall and break the houses and break the people in them and the people break my concentration.

The tornado holds no sympathy but only releases it to the news channels.
Its an odd weapon,
a brutality,
a misdemeanor of the Divine.

Life is Suffering,
its Chaos,
its more meat for the animals,
it's the frailty of old age and
its the helplessness of newborn youth.
Its Beauty, and carnage, and ******, and work, and Love
and paying taxes.

And the stars pierce the midnight and find me,
they glance and they smile and they talk.

They say:
"You be grateful, young Man.
You walk."

                                                                  - March 2019, Siesta Key, FL
Fantastic profile of Henry Worsley by the legendary journalist David Grann:  https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/02/12/the-white-darkness
I am the ugly duckling.
I am the doorless key.
I am the page forever unstained.
I am the beginningless story.

I am the man,
with no home.

I am,
The soul,
With no hope,
No trust,
No penance,
No closure,
No love,
No peace...

No humanity.

I,
am not lost,
For I was never even meant to be found.

~Robert van Lingen
OnyxSea Nov 2017
The pain of the world,
Continuous and ever flowing.

Never ceasing, never ending,
Exactly when was the beginning?

Roaming, wandering, stopping, thinking,
I see suffering and all its underpinnings.

Painful it may be, everlasting it may seem,
Eventually all of it ceases to be.

To discover this cessation, this end to suffering.
I bring forth my attention, mind and will.

For the sake of myself, and all other beings.
Wandering the world since beginningless time,
I summon forth the strength, a well of power.
And sally forth I shall, to end myriad suffering

Though this body may cease to be,
and all meaning meaningless to me,
What matters is I tried, to do what is meaningful to me.

For my existence is value, as is all those who know pain.
May they walk forth, for the sake of the world and thee
Bijoylakshmi Das Dec 2019
hello—poetry
Bijoylakshmi Das   Poems  
Published 4   Drafts 1
DRAFT EDIT
Bijoylakshmi Das 17h
WHEN BREATH BECOMES AIR
WHEN BREATH BECOMES AIR
(Bijoylakshmi Das)
(Dedicated to a Young Brave heart departed much before time,
Life's only Truth is Death, stark, pure and sublime.)
It's when breath becomes air,
The little 'SELF' confined to its narrow 'I' comes to a cease;
All sobs of agony in a new rapture finds an ecstatic release,
The World departs from its narrow periphery of YOU and ME.

It's when breath becomes air
The Subtle matter merges into the subtlest Vast,
A new Birth with vernal promises is ushered upon Eatth;
Still the Brown yearns for the earnest Elysian compromise,
The mortal's journey to the Immortal afar in awakening's rise.

It's when breath becomes air,
A twilight splendour trembles in the tremulous Vast,
The Soil's life, its love and passions of an Illimitable mirth,
The softening lips, and the sweet kisses of the nearest Sweet heart,
All fade to the distant horizon faint, forsaken and cast aside at last ;
Alas! The little blossom is yet to come out of the surrealist romance!!!

It's when breath becomes air,
The spirit begins to seek the beginningless Soul in the infinite stretch of the sky,
The Journey is eternal, endless but the enlivened Self rises high;
Creation's breath goes on ceaseless,
the finite relaxes at ease,
The anguish of the age-old attire tired of earthly toil longs for a deathless demise.

It's when breath becomes air,
The world drama dies death in the silence of the immaculate Sublime,
All lyrics of life transient are lymned by the One Poet in His unwritten Rhyme,
We are ALL in ONE and ONE in ALL in the Supreme playact of the One Alone,
Breath is Air, and Air is Breath - Life's unalterable Principle of Unique Oxymoron forever goes on since ageless Aeon.
(Bijoylakshmi Das, Puri. 16th Dec 2019)

Written by
Bijoylakshmi Das
(68/F/Puri)  
— The End —
Bijoylakshmi Das Jun 2021
THE RIVER FLOWS IN YOU
(Bijoylakshmi Das)
(1)
The Creation is the beginningless Whole,
It has no end too,
It is like the most beautiful river
That flows within me and you.
(2)
The rapturous call of the beatitude beyond
To the land of timeless peace,
The melancholy of the mystic murmur heralds the infinite woodland bliss.
(3)
The amazing notes from stupendous heights
Breathe life in listless hours,
The hierarchy of ascending marvel unleashes Heaven’s healing showers.
(4)
The river flows within you,
Listen to its silent rhapsody’s rhyme;
Earnest to meet Eternity
In its quest pure and sublime.
(5)
The world Artist paints on the canvas
His unique archetypal curve.
Where the new meets the old
And the decrepit does dissolve.
(6)
The one Alone deciphers the Destiny
In celestial clairvoyant notes,
When devils cite the scripture
To meet the vilest purpose.
(7)
All is done by the One Will
Who sits immobile above,
His Love is infinite,
His Compassion even is beyond His Love.
(18th June 2021)
On the Kailasa of my heart
The Unborn,
Beginningless
One
Waits for me....

— The End —