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Nina JC Jan 2015
a mathematical love poem
Last week I was taught that
no matter how complex an expression may seem
if you multiply it by its conjugate pair
you will always end up with a non-negative real solution.
That is a metaphor for how we have learned to love.

I used to like mathematics, as strange as it may sound,
because memorising the value of pi was
somehow easier than forgetting the notion of you
and I thought maybe comprehending the mechanics of the universe
would lead me one step closer to cracking the combination.

In a world that spins at the rate of 27,900m per minute, a constant can prove tricky to find.
Hence, there is solace to be felt in knowing that even when it is all said and done –
when the final bullet has slipped from our tongues and we are left trembling
upon nothing but the rubble of our own destruction,
two plus three will still be equal to five.

In an attempt to clarify a theory to the class, my teacher analogised
that mathematics is like one big giant jigsaw puzzle:
everything always fits together perfectly in the end
Since then I have learned it is the method without the madness,
the passion for the predictable; it is everything - that love is not.

Not even the greatest mathematician in the world
has been able to measure how much a heart can hold.
There is no algorithm for how to make you come back;
I cannot draw a line graph on the speed at which love left
and even if I could, our gradients would never be the same.

I may have both halves of the bed,
but there is never enough space to fill it with.
If a task takes four hours for ten people to complete
and the same job takes five people twice that time,
how long will it take for a human to feel whole again?

Sometimes I think we are nothing more
than two parallel lines that accidentally crossed paths.
Continue reading...
Jimmy King Jul 2014
Ascending Through Never Sink
I commit to poems the second that I begin writing them,
And here I am committing to this one,
My cursor on the screen
Tap tap tapping like tap-roots across it’s blue-glowing surface.
With every push of every button,
I begin seeing the blue light
As more than it is. I begin seeing it as a poem.
The blue light that illuminated the Never Sink sinkhole
Was not from a screen.
Nor was it from glowworms.
As I write on this screen though, there is that same blue light
With me still. It is
Streaming from the walls of the cavern,
Still massaging the bags of tiredness
That hang beneath my eyelids to remind me
Of where I just was, having *** with my ex-girlfriend,
And of all the places that I was before that: to remind me
Of the blue lights in Never Sink,
The sinkhole that is 120 feet wide and 170 feet deep that I
Climbed out of on a rope and in the dark,
Which was anything but dark—an unlocked lock
Sat in my driveway after I got home

From having *** with my ex-girlfriend tonight,
And there, in that lock, was a comparison to or an analogy for or a metaphor of
My climb out of Never Sink: gradual ascension
And then a moment
Of absolute awe and profundity so unlike any other profundity
That the clarity I felt absolutely throughout my body tonight
Can only really be brought into my mind with full force
Through a comparison and analogy and metaphor
To, for, and of the blue lights
That that temple provided us. Looking into that lock’s
Reflective gleam, I discovered that I felt
The way I’d felt ever since climbing out of Never Sink, which was exactly
How I’d spent the past year or so wanting to feel.

“Bring me,” I said to Duane, who went with me to Never Sink,
“To the hole in the ground
Where the blue light glows; where the glow-worms lightly blaze” and Duane
Said “okay” and he brought me there without
My ever having to say those words. And then,
In the moments after the sun went down we discovered
That the glowworms were not glowworms but
Armillaria mellea, a bioluminescent fungus.
Not glowworms but Armillaria mellea,
Which rose through and across the cave walls, coating the rock
With its skin. The whole pit was covered in that skin—the skin
Of that single individual.
As I methodically climbed out of the sinkhole on my rope, I felt that
Fungus (that individual) extending
Its black shoelace looking taproots into my lungs too,
And into my skin,
Where I was but where
I wasn’t quite yet. Where I was but
Where I couldn’t yet describe to myself without the use of glowworms—
Without the use of made-up and childish sounding words
Like Depropheria, which I wrote a book about but which
I never really understood, and I, the whole concept of which is flawed,
Feel like I could be the plant on Joe’s counter,
Which he said I already am.
Because if my “I” was in all of its molecules and its “I” was in all of my molecules
Then we would both just be exactly what we already were, Joe said, and so
By the very logic I extended in posing the question
I was and am the plant.

I could be Armillaria mellea too
But what am I if I think that I am glowworms? but really
The glowworms are fungus, and while I ****** my ex-girlfriend tonight, falling
Further into the space away from her, I was also
Scraping away at the walls of Never Sink
To see the tiny little hairs that revealed to Duane and I what really was there,
The Armillaria mellea, of course, but how could something so different
(“**** me, Daniel,” she said, “I feel you inside of me, I want you.”
“**** me,” I said
“”
“I feel myself inside of you, I”)
Be the thing that I am? I would never

Stop the car because I saw something shining on my driveway.
And I would never
Open the car door
And step out into the night with the engine running.
Step out into the night to find an
Unlocked lock
Lying there on the pavement while the song that I tried to live all year
Called In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel blasts loudly
From my Buick’s speakers. Step out into the night
With that song blaring through my open car door, surely waking
My soon to be empty-nested mother from her sleep behind
That second story window
Right up ahead.

I did those things though—I
Stopped the car because I saw something shining on my driveway, and I
Did those things.
I am glow-worms.
I am, and so
I am the plant on Joe’s counter, and so
I can be a glow-worm.
I can be what I already am without knowing or comprehending that I am it.
I can be the whole universe.
I am the whole universe.
I saw over one hundred salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw four different species of salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw six different species of frogs, and I saw
Three brown rat snakes, which thankfully were not copperheads, but which
Could have been glowworms that were copperheads,
I guess. If you ask Joe, anyway. I’m not sure
I believe it fully
Even though when you strip away sentimental definitions of “I”
It’s pretty **** convincing. He was convincing.

I danced around Joe’s counter (where the plant sat, even then)
In September. At the time,
The counter was quickly becoming Alex’s counter,
Because I was becoming close friends with Alex,
And because Alex was Joe’s little sister, and because
Joe had left for the college he’d drop out of,
And during his hiatus from what he’d wanted to run from
It was just
Alex’s counter. It is Joe’s counter again now,
Because Alex has a dumb boyfriend who she likes to kiss
And doesn’t really like to ****
But who she does **** anyway and as a result
Doesn’t really like spending much time not ******* me anymore.
Anyway, I danced

Around Joe’s counter in September, when it was becoming Alex’s counter,
And I sank songs like In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
With all my new friends. I thought that I
Was living those songs
Because, if my “I” was in the molecules that vibrated when the song played,
And the “I” of those molecules was in me
Then I would be those songs and those songs would be me.
Being the songs wasn’t the same as living the songs, though.
Rising out of Never Sink I saw myself
Reflected in the blue dots of light that Armillaria mellea created.
I saw that I hadn’t been living everything
That I was; I saw that I was the blue dots then, but I also saw
That I didn’t know that the blue dots weren’t glowworms.

When I was dancing
Around Joe’s counter, I didn’t yet know the words
To In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel.
But all my new friends were singing those words, and so I
Screamed out barely-syllabic nonsense
With a smile on my face,
Speaking like a baby who recognizes the existence of language
But can’t yet put it into use.

Rising out of Never Sink
The whole cave opened up, as more and more levels of the sinkhole
Were revealed to be stars and galaxies
Of blue fungus to climb through.
Rising out of Never Sink, I held in my hand
The unlocked lock which I would use later
To weight my pocket as I would sit with these bags of tiredness hanging
Writing this poem late at night on the screen illuminated
By the blue lights of Never Sink. To weight my pocket
As I would sit writing this poem, with
***** excreted thirty minutes prior still resting on my ****
Like the name I haven’t yet learned to call her—
Caterina, Caterina, why did she change it? Maria
Was so pretty, why did she change her name, it was
To get away from me, it was to get away from me like
I wanted to get away from her, it was to get away from me it was
Because she always hated the name Maria. And
To grow more confident in herself
She needed to become
Caterina. She needed to rebrand herself like she worked on rebranding
That company’s logo for her senior thesis project in high school
When I first fell in love with her because
Glowworms lit up Never Sink at night.

They were glowworms in Never Sink
Because the glowworms are fungus
And I am the glowworms.

If you ask Joe.

I want to take some time now to describe
Rising out of Never Sink
Without giving any time
To the lock I found in my drive-way this evening, or
To Joe’s counter-top and how I danced around it knowing
That it wasn’t his but that it was him,
Or to the remnants of Maria, Caterina, and I which are all I, and which
Stick to my ***** still. Never Sink is a sinkhole
That is 170 feet deep
And 120 feet wide at its top.

I went spelunking in Alamaba, Georgia, and/or Tennesse last week
Where I never knew which state or time zone I was in,
And where an annoying but charming guy named Glenn
Led me and my best friend through epic places of infinite beauty.
One of those places was Never Sink,
Which is a sinkhole that is
170 feet deep and
120 feet wide at its top. We repelled into Never Sink
Because Glenn wanted to show us the glowworms
(Which were fungus that were glowworms that were
**** it) and because my friend Duane, who is my best friend, who is
A 39 year-old factory worker who worries that he is much older than he is,
Wanted to see the glowworms too.
We found over a hundred salamanders in Never Sink
And Duane and I discovered that it wasn’t glowworms
That illuminated the pit, but Armillaria mellea, which is a fungus, and
It was very cool.
But ascending through Never Sink was more than very cool,
And it was much more than fungus,
Just as the fungus which I took into my body in August (which it
Almost is again now) after the summer music festival was more
Than just fungus. That fungus was more than just fungus because
I took it into my body right after breaking up with Maria-Caterina (who
I can’t not talk about) For Good (which was
The name of a song they sang
At Maria-Caterina’s high school graduation a year ago, after which
We made love (which was what we called it
Because we were cliché and in love
(Which is what we made.)))

It was a spiritual journey through the cosmos,
In Never Sink,
Or at least that’s how it felt,
And when I climbed out of Never Sink’s mouth, I hugged Duane
And he hugged me and we
Thought that it was beautiful.

I am the plant in Joe’s kitchen.
I am glowworms.
Continue reading...
st64 Mar 2014
THE OLD WISDOM ( By Jane Goodall)
When the night wind makes the pine trees creak
And the pale clouds glide across the dark sky,
Go out my child, go out and seek
Your soul: The Eternal I.


For all the grasses rustling at your feet
And every flaming star that glitters high
Above you, close up and meet
In you: The Eternal I.



Yes, my child, go out into the world; walk slow
And silent, comprehending all, and by and by
Your soul, the Universe, will know
Itself: the Eternal I.
Dame Jane Morris Goodall, DBE (born Valerie Jane Morris-Goodall on 3 April 1934) is a British primatologist, ethologist, anthropologist, and UN Messenger of Peace.
Considered to be the world's foremost expert on chimpanzees, Goodall is best known for her 45-year study of social and family interactions of wild chimpanzees in Gombe Stream National Park, Tanzania.
She is the founder of the Jane Goodall Institute and the Roots & Shoots program, and she has worked extensively on conservation and animal welfare issues. She has served on the board of the Nonhuman Rights Project since its founding in 1996.

Goodall is the former president of Advocates for Animals, an organization based in Edinburgh, Scotland, that campaigns against the use of animals in medical research, zoos, farming and sport.

Goodall is a devoted vegetarian and advocates the diet for ethical, environmental, and health reasons. In The Inner World of Farm Animals, Goodall writes that farm animals are "far more aware and intelligent than we ever imagined and, despite having been bred as domestic slaves, they are individual beings in their own right. As such, they deserve our respect. And our help. Who will plead for them if we are silent?”
Goodall has also said, “Thousands of people who say they 'love' animals sit down once or twice a day to enjoy the flesh of creatures who have been treated so with little respect and kindness just to make more meat."

In April 2008, Goodall gave a lecture entitled "Reason for Hope" at the University of San Diego's Joan B. Kroc Institute for Peace & Justice Distinguished Lecture Series.
Continue reading...
onlylovepoetry Jul 2016
the god of love came to me this morning and asked for a poem {Part III of the no love poetry trilogy}
for Sally, Bex and Tonya, Denel and my beloved

<>

gods do not seek forgiveness,
or comprehension,
desertion, desecration, ascension
or condemning condescension

but how how they crave
just a good conversation,
to get a word in edgewise,
a nice chat,
entrée à, la tête-à-tête,
entre deux, deluxe-amis

a casually talking,
absent of
words of need and beseech,
reason and causality,
and no I or We pronouns,
sans enunciations and annunciations,
false hopes for incarnations, incantations,
set asides for life's grievous aches
all human requests, and some of God's commandments
for now, set aside,
annulled

just a talk,
some repartee,
but mostly an open ear lent,
an early morn quiet listen
over tea (he/she) and coffee (me),
paying attention to
both sides of an interactive story

as recompense for my willingness to be,
his engaged counter party,
my mourning gloomier cloudiness,
quick exchanged for instant,
rising sunshine warming glorious

my vista
of a bay dancing
to Tchaikovsky Swan Lake ballet music,
deftly inserted between
an Agnus Dei and an Ave Maria

mood music he said,
and we chuckled,
he/she was god and orchestrated
my tastes,
Adele et Dudamel,
comprehending my undesirable apprehension,
by granting my needy wish for
poetic inspirational composition contentment

all exchanged,
for just a good listen,
no judgements, in either direction

I am the god of love,
the one who makes you weep,
when you study your beloved's rising chest,
each uplifted breast heaving,
a confirmation blessing,
that her life is present
for at least the next second,
ready for your magi adoration

be not fearful,
this day we talk only,
as I pass by,
I have no business to conduct,
on your island of sheltering redoubt,
but to engage and unburden
for even gods
are required to confess,
and aging godheads do adore
a human shoulder
upon to rest,
a great invention,
(If I may say so myself)
and to whom better to address
than my only love poetry
poète personnelle

here he off-guards me
with a favorite injection,
Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings,
music so sweet that it never fails
to weaken my knees,
sweeping my eyes unto weeping
priming me with this first coat of
sounds so elementary soothing

he half-bows before me and says,

forgive me human, for I have sinned

in Dallas and Nice,
just this past week,
with forays here and there,
doing god's work

read your bitterness and struggle,
anger and forgiveness all in one crust,
furious curses and wails so plaintive,
my heavenly musicians weep from jealousy,
at the cries emanating from the fired fury song
of human hearts torn and love plundered

I am the god of love

and

the god of pain and all that is the

anti-love

(and to make me better understand,  
Schindler's List score, so sweetly,
he plays for me,
to clarify the atmosphere,
that death and love -
and the courage of understanding,
so oft go hand in hand)

write me a love poem for me,
no hymn or sonnet do I require,
for love is essence of forgive,
there is no perfect union,
that cannot stand,
with out this emotion of
conciliatory intermediation

tell me you understand
that the scales
of bereft befallen,
disparate chance interrupting randomized,
must periodic perforce
sometimes weigh more,
than the good of simple

balance tip that creative god spark within,
of which you write,
away from my bloodied, unsightly hand

write me one more love poem
a frisson semi-sweet and cleanly neat,
of good things sad,
but worthy of remembrance

you are not the first for this bequest to receive,
other poet's before and after,
will Jacob-wrestle with my angels,
battling to find the...

no matter

"my love to thee is sound sans crack or flaw"^

let your love poem
to me
be of whole healing,
for these disarrayed feelings
cannot forever persist,
the perfect balance you desire
is not on your Earth existent,
unobtainable

these cracks and flaws must and will come


and yet

love poems
will be our common language

and then he/she left,
leaving this poem behind,
born from my mind, yet,
carved on my skin,
written with the nib of my rib,
sealed and signed,
future undefined,
but dated upon my
cleansed hand's lifeline,
hand held outstretched
as if to say

“and yet"
^ "my love to thee is sound sans crack or flaw".
William Shakespeare

Sunday, July 17th 2016
8:42am
Anno ab incarnatione Domini
#olp #god #of #love #came #this #morning
Continue reading...
Dondaycee Oct 2018
T-B.O.P (the body of personality)
I’m a new kid,
I have a new name.
A new game?
I’m; here…
Undisputed,
I can’t reMember My Old name-
-I’m… Here…

Why do adults live with separation?
I mean; people don’t communicate,
“Consuming assumptions so you can hate”,
But know it is only the variables that are even exchangeable when reaching solutions in mind,
Peep thee illusions of time,
If we live in the moments, it’s fine-
Until we come across a choice and we’re absent from our voice,
It’s the voices we’re fed that sides;
Uhh DECIIDE!,
(“be humble”)
There’s THREE TIMES,
(“sit down”)
Now breathe…
The dreams I’m having, reiterated “I” in past;
But yet, I’m here,
Right now, my last thought is the last, last,
Cause says be; clear,
On my intentions,
I want love and affection,
That’s why I put myself sec (secondary) and,
Call me Reese Bobby;
In a world of duality,
“If you ain’t first-”
-You’re definitely not second,

What is transgression?
-If we were made to be,
Why does the resurrection of thy self only exist in make belief?
How can I indulge and embrace realities that weren’t made for me?
Especially when I was giving my own, it seems foolish to trade my ability to see,

I experienced her;
It’s a blessing, how she’d hold me tight,
I experienced him,
I never questioned who he was, inside,
I never fight… unless it’s by side,
It is beside, I fought with them; I speak of internal conflict,
Control accomplished,
The ego beyond it; we realize it’s the experience that takes us to a place in time, I speak of a space in a line that curves on a geometric plane that consists of circles intertwined that is often perceived as the fabrics of the universe but to save us the stretch of time, we see that it is the experience that defines life,
So who am I?
That question’s redundant,
It is all that resides in me;
I.e. abundance,
It is because of everyone in my reality, that I was able to see the cohesion, and it is because of that reason that I experience oneness,
I’m simply done with,
Using other people’s beliefs to constitute how I interact,
Because their realities are incompatible with what I essentially, intend to attract,
Certain interactions can remain abstract,
I can no longer take opinions on thoughts, if I’m the only one experiencing thoughts;
Your imagination shouldn’t be programed to be comprehensive with the past- extract,
There’s no math in that,
You’re just rearranging the variables, there’s no flow towards the conclusion;
Perspectives placed in fact,
And although this realization can be an impact,
We’d only turn our focus into a debate on what you did lack rather than embracing the thoughts that occurred that would only exploit one thing,
The solutions to the equations that you did have,
As the creators of our realities,
If it is problematic, the writer of the problem encodes an Easter egg that exploits how it is; it was you who did it,
How can we enjoy new thoughts, if they are the old thoughts?
We revisit.
It’s impossible to allude in digits if it is one we elicit…

People love my personality; they obviously love themselves,
Seeing myself in them is why I became an advocate for the conscious body of thought...and it’s health,
I.e. I express our extrinsic abundance of wealth;
I’ll reiterate; I.a. free man,
That’s: free thought, free love, free plan,
I’ll obliterate the mean-in; AI by using IA,
U-no reverse cards was the cause of humans comprehending backwards my friend,
We live backwards because we look back first,
So I’m confused on the AI fuss,
If an Artificial Intelligence is constructed based off our current level of intelligence, and is only responsive to our negligence because of the installment of IA (information architecture), then there’s no possible way for this room to have an elephant being that an AI is just an extension of us,

Who do you love?
-Is it enough?
-curious in, experiencing experiences other than lust…

I’m hearing some things,
“Who do I touch?”
Rhetorical questions; my love is a gift which seeded from trust,
I’m not one of them, I’m one of us,
One of a kind yet mind; innumerous,

I was born and knew nothing,
Only sure of my existence,
I experienced life and only found myself,
Time is only distorted when mind is missing,
Be mindful of your thoughts, it is the structure of your personality,
We just went through seven chakras expressing rationality;
I think we all can agree that T-B.O.P’s in another dimension,
And all she wants is for us to merge into our bodies potential extension...
PHI
Continue reading...
chip carter Oct 2010
Father-in-law
You could careless about another
You just fiqured, why bother
Your only out for yourself

You have no conscience
And show no emotion
The only time your nice
Is when you need something

You play games with peoples minds
But its coming to an end and i promise you
You won't like what you find

There will be no mending
And no comprehending
You may have won the battle
But the war is just begginning
Continue reading...
Jia Ming Feb 2023
In Comprehending Us
What if in comprehending us —
I find Reality
With unkindly beauty snug
In Compatibility —

Some countless plants entwining us
Identify the Pause
Our stridulations take to live —
Unseparating Us —
#love
Continue reading...
Parasuram Dora Hanumanthu Aug 2012
The Ghastly Choices
Living on borrowed time
Decision at drop of a hat
Down an empty vandalized street, I walk
through the horror of silence
and silence of serenity
perdurable pathway of life

The ghastly sights
and the rustling gates
scattered people with unknown tastes
emptiness in their eyes, anger in their words
void is profound
down the perdurable pathway of life

Bifurcated roads upfront
my perception, one to hell and one to heaven
the other end of roads, a mystery
I stood there comprehending, while
my mind harks back to before I came
down the perdurable pathway of life

Endurance of a toiler
Stoicism, a rare trait, out of gratitude to employer
pain and suffering he undergoes for common good
loyalty to his master, inspire of hardships
sincerity and humbleness of the bloke
will inspire me, down the perdurable pathway of life

Deprived of education
desolated on streets laboring
disparate from parental love, subject to father's fury
fractious relations but still ignores himself, for family and domicile
The kid's love and determination, will inspire me
down the perdurable pathway of life

Spurn love took her down
Her heart wrenched and pushed her beyond limits
killed herself, leaving her parents to sore reality
not a wise choice, but courageous
I ponder upon courage, rather than cowardly suicide
Death is not an option down the perdurable pathway of life

Happy faces around taunt me to do simplest
Reality speaks otherwise
Reckoning on past, the pathway is wrought
conscious and hard choices right ahead
The bifurcated roads to heaven and hell?
I've seen it all, down the perdurable pathway of life
Continue reading...
JJ Hutton Jul 2011
Earlybird, Smoking Mirror Jack
A bad mix of Shorty's Irish Whisky
and a whimper riding the wind,
has got me lying about my past.
A roomful of men in nooseties surround,
crowbar stares prying at my mindsafe of secrets--
I drink until the grimace gives way to birthday cake grin
and my watering eyes burst in confetti.

Martha emerges from the black suits
in her spiderweb burgundy dress.
Jack and Nathan drool in the corner.
Martha whispers, "Hey Harvey," and then a terribly long
something-or-other in my ear,
but I'm too far gone to comprehend
or to care about comprehending.
The crafted playlist for this party
hiccups and dies, creating a suffocating silence.
The beady eyes turn shifty, erratic strayfire gazes
fill the room.

I begin to laugh.

I notice Jack talking to a grey-haired man and pointing at me.
Martha looks at me and nods with a sense of urgency.
New music coughs across the room,
I slide into a small, desperate clan of dreamy-talkers,
hungry for a new pair of ears to beesting with *******.
I listen, while my aging wolf scours the room.
I make a swift break for the door,
the night lies naked in front of me--
light pollution pours fake beams on the contours of the evening.
A middle-aged woman snags my arm before I can reach my car.
I pull until my arm frees, but she delays me enough
for the grey-haired man to catch up.

He introduces himself with a lightning one-two punch.
One being a sharp left hook.
Two being a dusting right uppercut.

"You stay the hell away from my daughter!"

I begin to ***** a river of orange, red, dotted with black chunks.
More than a few drops land on his shiny black leather shoes,
so he proceeds to break my nose with a vicious kick.

Amidst my moans, I am able to ask, "Who is your daughter?"

"Karen, Karen Newman."

"I have no idea who that is!" I cry.

"Don't lie to me, Jack! She told us all about you."

"My name is Harvey."

I look out into the road.
A blue sedan stops momentarily.

"I owe you one, buddy!" Jack shouts.

The Newman parents disappear without
so much as an apology.
I lay listening to the low hum of the city's traffic.
A few minutes pass, sending me into a haze.
Delicate fingers lift my head from the concrete,
I look up.
Martha begins to clean the blood and ***** from
my face with a wash cloth.
I feel soft and pure in her hands.
Continue reading...
brandon nagley May 2015
the difference between listening and hearing( quick quote by me...for men and women ,both)
There's a difference between listening and hearing!!!!
When a man just hears you, he sometimes will look at you sometimes not, but either way he could be looking at you yet just hearing the words coming from your mouth, yet not comprehending the things that you tell him, and not being able to come back with an answer to your question, or a comment to your fact... When you ask him something when your finished talking he just sais huh?

Hearing is when one will make eye contact with you, being able to comprehend all that you say, and being able to give an answer to your question, or an answer to your statement or fact...comprehending all that you say...

There's a difference between listening and hearing, something men and not just men but women do to,

A little hint for some ...():
This would be helpful to you men who pay ATTN to thine own t.v and not the queen and love sitting right next to you, for you must remember, tomorrow may not always come!!!show thy queen your love brother!!!
And women, same goes/to/you.. You have a king who adores you next to you treat him as such, and If you dont have one. Find one who will listen!!! Not just hear you...
Thanks for reading!!
Continue reading...
jeffrey conyers Dec 2012
Prevention
I'm not a prophet.
No proclaim to be.
One thing I do know.
The experts can't declare ways to prevent a single thing.

When tragic happens, we see many pointing it out.
Except, it's like saying you're aware when someone's about to shout.
Prevention can't be addressed, without comprehending the now.

The now that stupidiy will override common sense.
And create more problem than was meant.
We know prevention to halt mistakes.
Which all humans still continue to make.

Technology comes and claim to improve.
Except, we know the harm it still do.
Continue reading...
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
An old Fijian Man
For several weeks,
I'd been staying there,
Near a tiny village
on a tropic Island
not quite a mile square.

Encircling this place,
water so blue and clear,
As to render you mute,
Even produce a tear.

Mitchener was right,
His tales were true,
The South Pacific is,
indeed heaven so pure.

The people residing,
Once fierce and frightening,
Even Cannibals they were,
Turned docile and friendly,
Embracing a perfect stranger,
Like a long lost, family friend.

Those native people,
to this very day,
Proved to be,
Some of the best
I ever encountered.

In spite of our
language barrier
One old man, age 87
Was in particular,
A special friend of mine.

His few bits of broken
English though meager,
Always delivered,
With the utmost,
Vim and Vigor.

My Fijian I must admit,
Was assuredly not the best.
But as people do in that
situation, we smiled a lot,
Nodded our heads and
Pantomimed the rest.
Though that sounds
a little convoluted,
Strangely enough it suited,
we seemed to get the gist.  

One eve around sunset,
This old Gent and I,
Sat side by side thinking.
Watching water and sky
changing colors,
Way out into infinity.

We stared in silence,
Until the sun did plunge,
Into the darkening Sea.
All alone, just that
Aged fellow and me.
Watching a sunset
Beyond supreme.

The old man stood,
Nodded his head,
Pointing with his chin,
In clear indication,
That I should follow.
Which I did without,
The slightest hesitation.

In no time at all
We worked our way
Round, to the opposite
Side of the Island.

Where upon our arrival,
At the edge of the water,
The old man squatted,
As both of us reclined
Crossed legged in the sand.
And in all that time, still not
a single word was spoken.

After some minutes,
As darkness descended,
Low on the distant horizon
An amazingly huge, irradiant
full Moon, began it's glorious
Ascent.

I had all my life,
Seen that same moon,
From places all over
The globe, and yet,
This one bright yellow orb
Did steal my breath away.

At that moment for me,
it was easy to see, why the
Ancient's held the Sun and
the Moon as sacred.
How else would a person
Living then possibly explain,
Such Heavenly projections?

About that same time,
the old fellow sighed,
Indicating his own,
enraptured amazement.

With liquid eyes,
He turned to me.
Pointing out towards,
That uplifting glob,
And simply, softly said;
"America, You own the Moon."

Even after my friend stood
And silently departed,
I sat transfixed, motionless,
Watching that moon to its zenith.

Where upon, sheer elated emotions,
Of this my journey of self reflections
Began to sink in and I started to cry.

There are times is one's life,
When lessons are taught,
When almost no words
need to be spoke

And the best teacher's are
our own Brain and Heart,
Comprehending, embracing
Life's numerous shared Lessons.
Three months in Fiji 1972
The week before this occasion, I'd
learned form the Fijian School Teacher
on the Island, that three years earlier
an American Peace Corps person had
come to the Island. He having been only
the 19th "White" person, to ever visit there.
This fact being dually recorded, assessed
and verified by recollections and "memories
of the Old Men" on the island. (memories
being their best calendars of noteworthy,
or oral historical events) I was then, the
20th such visitor recorded.

The Peace Corps guy brought a small
generator and upon a white sheet, hung
between two palm trees, a film projector
displayed the first ever moving pictures
many of those young and old 289 souls
had ever seen. Color Pictures of American
Astronauts putting Human Kind's, first
ever foot prints on to the surface of the moon.

"You own the Moon". Is how he saw
it, viewed it with his own eyes, perhaps
that was how they all believed it to be.
As in you go there, you claim it, just as
his ancestors had done 1200 years before
finding and claiming that little island.

No my old, long departed mentor,
we all own the moon.
Continue reading...
jeffrey conyers Aug 2018
Stand Up For Your Rights
Protest it.
Unless you employed by the government.
Rules are totally different.

If officers violate the laws they serving to protect us.
Stand up for your rights to protest.

We in America not one of that dictatorship country.

Why?
Do people feel athletes can't protest?
They go on strike for various things not right to them.

Not one stated the protesting the anthem.
Not one.
They protesting injustice.
And rightly so.

So fans are mad than many probably never saw the youth that protested in the sixties against a war.
Whether you agree or don't.


Always stand up for your rights.

So a so-called billionaire never paid taxes and won't reveal his income tax forms using idle threats.
The only one filling the role of kiss-up is the owners.

Without comprehending, if there is a sporting showdown the most likely won't win.

Most likely to be the losers when Coke, Pepsi, Nike, Papa John and host of others clients profits fall.
A business suffers highly when there no solution solved.

Most fans that go to a sporting event are a great majority of whites and be the ones crying the louder.

If ever done wrong and need attention to get people on board.
You protest, you stand up and stand out.
A small church pastor rose to be great by taking on a segregated system.

The only one mad about tearing segregation is who?
The race need not be mention for a majority hardly stand up for anything.
Well, unless it's the NRA.

Even with violence in school from high powered weapons.
There they go defending the NRA.

And the weapons they protesting against isn't truly needed unless you at war.
But they standing up for their rights.
So players, stand up for your rights.

For CBS/ESPN/ABC/NBC stands to lose too.
If a majority of players stand strong against wrong.
Continue reading...
refresh mesh Jun 2015
military brats
we were small children when we grew up

wishing our parents would talk to us about the beloved Constitution,
not at us
wishing our parents would decide to quietly invite themselves
into our ideas, questions, our favorite novels
instead of constantly quoting their own favorite parts of The Bible
instead of complaining so fervently about Islam and poor people

wishing instead of asking
scrambling instead of composing
Do you remember anything?
You were small, and barely talking
But always laughing with me, listening
pointing and nodding

we were orphaned for 3 months as toddler and tiny girl,
while they were mobilizing in Saudi Arabia,
we were stuck with a violent guardian from the family, and I remember
her biting my arm, and pushing her chair
onto mine to crush my fingers when she was mad, and I remember
mom screaming at her over the phone when she found out, and I remember
she loved to kick our dog and sleep in their bed and I remember
deciding to say nothing when I saw this
and how she never saw me watching, the narcissist that she was.

so by age 5 my parents now knew that I was certainly old enough to pay close attention
and when mom and dad were deployed to Egypt for 9 months and 6 months, respectively,
they orchestrated a sequence of 3 live-in sitters trading off every 2 weeks, periodically,
we were stuck in a cyclical round of stuffy, busy au pairs
and I was the host
and I kissed dad's picture because he would call us almost every day
and mom would not
yet it was her I remembered the most
yet it was dad that you actually forgot

When we had them back I realized
I wanted to forget him, too, sometimes.
I hated worrying about them. I remember when I was 7 and our dog died
His heart was so debilitated for months.
Soon after he was able to fling our replacement puppies
in a fit of rage, just once
He retired first, that year, while mom was shipped off to Kuwait
Soon we found out he had no friends, she was his only mate
We felt sorry for him
We ate tv dinners every day and night for 6 months
And although I do have small handfuls of memories
with his hands suddenly on my throat and me on my knees
They always end with him apologizing and sobbing
And me, unscathed but shaken, glowing but glaring

by ages 8 and 10
we were reciting the bill of rights and criticizing welfare
but still could never understand ?
competition or war or cosmetics or long hair

I would always march, I felt like a boy and a girl
and also felt like neither one, I would always twirl
I was taught early on that accomplishments
are more
valuable and profitable of an experience
than forming,
with no meaning, such fleeting relationships

I've ending up simply not comprehending courtship
I might be a light, empty holster that you cannot equip.
I've never sensed the fond feeling of an honest liaison
Except at funerals where I'm free to imagine my own expiration

there are those of us who found kindness by insight
while we were taught to play the offense and be glad to fight
Yet intuitively we knew this aggression has a cost
so we harbored it within our frontal lobes, where we became lost
Some of us have been fighting demons since
our own hearts could breathe and our own eyes could rinse,
And the real reasons we did bad things
were simply too boring, too excruciating

these children fear, then assume, their best friend won't want to play
having discovered that having daydreams may be impending dismay
these are all the people who I haven't ever gotten to greet
they echo my certainties that there are other stories to meet

we were children who always imagined being a squib
keeping faith that wizards and wands were real
they'd take us away from this place to another glib
world of feasts and friends
A house consistently without parents, a house in which we could heal
guardians will fuggya up
#deployment #military #abuse
Continue reading...
Dan Pramann Mar 2010
Rainfall Letdown
The tapping
and rapping
of which you believe to be rain
striking your glass
belongs not to nature
but of the rocks which
my hands hurl

Drowning in rain
and thoughts of you
driving me
placing me
a few feet below you
as you dream

the shouting of mine
is lost in the whirling,
whipping rain and thunder

pronouncing and proclaiming
true feelings
i somehow seem weightless
under the window
which i hope to glimpse your face

but... asleep you stay
comfortable under sheets and covers
with eyelids tightly sealed
dreaming away
white noise the only thing
your ears pick up

After hours of waiting
throwing and screaming
i quit
not wishing to awake the unwanted
i leave a simple note
tied round your mailbox
and let the rain
push my head farther into sorrow

walking away
not even comprehending
the fact
that the same rain that
drenches me and,
falls on your window
is blurring the ink
of which i confessed

truly and completely
i love you
© Dan Pramann. All Rights Reserved.
Continue reading...
Pauline Morris May 2016
Tapestry of my Life
The fabric of my life is a tapestry
Woven together with tragedy

There are black threads of loneliness
Blue threads of sadness
Red threads of the angriness
Yellow threads for my minds sickness
Orange threads for craziness
Purple for my madness
Gray threads for deeds of heartlessness
Pink threads for those rare moments of tenderness
Of course there is clear, see through thread for the emptiness

Now look really close, fine little silver threads can be found of happiness
As well as shiny bright golden threads of hopfulness
It's what holds it all togeather
So no matter what storm I must weather
My beautifully tragic tapestry will be wrapped tight around me
The picture in the end will be so wonderfully sad and beautiful, it will make your eye's tear just to see

Your mind will have trouble comprehending how something so sad and tragic
Can create something so darkly beautiful, it seems like magic
It's because I've lived in the dark so long
I've learned to see beauty were it seems to not belong
Out of place and wrong

But in the darkness the silver and gold threads shine so bright
You would of never even seen them in the light
#mylife #tapestry #beautyinthedarkness
Continue reading...
rachel Aug 2014
She's so trippy
Kaleidoscope eyes
Telescoping with time
A tumbling jumble of colors and feelings
The quivers, the shakes, the shudders and reelings
Understood by the one with a blank expression on his face
Wide and bewildered eyes caught in her's embrace
Patterns colliding with no rhyme or reason
Deceiving her reflection
Just one more act of treason
Selfishly looking on over the bridge from her perch
Not comprehending the magnitude of her worth
A girl, a child, left out in the snow
A story never left behind
Now we'll never know.
Continue reading...
The Raven Jul 2014
Dreams
Dreams are an instant in reality when your mind pushes past the barriers of the mentally sane.
Dreams are not fake, they are real.
Dreams are your mind, processing the higher functions, and comprehending a higher reality.
I know this because I've done it.
I know this, because I pushed past that mental barrier, and I found you.
A girl that has only existed in my subconscious; my imagination...
A perfect girl.
I pushed into my dreams, and unlocked that higher reality, where that perfect girl exists.
That's where I am now.
That's why I have you.
#love #dreams
Continue reading...
Samantha Rose Schaefer Sep 2014
Chomsky VS Karma
Chomsky is a bit too pessimistic for my taste,
and it's strange to me how a Linguist does not believe in connectivity;
for, communication is connectivity;
every word connects to another
to form an idea, or a purpose.

Astrology has been around far longer than Astronomy,
and yet, people throw it aside as voodoo...
People saw these unseen forces and connections
long before they saw the connections within Science or Mathematics.
Trust and Love don't have a definite formula which we can see,
but they happen at a certain Time and Place.
If you believe in Karma at all, you know:
Nothing is a coincidence.

When you do something Good,
you put Positive energy out into the world,
and it is much more likely to come back to you
than Negative energy,
But these changes occur so rapidly and unseen,
that we have no way of comprehending their formula.
Each Negative action could be counteracted with a Positive,
and Vise Versa.
We look at Nature's mutations and call them Imperfect,
but that is just our idea of Perfection that we have created.
We expect things to go systematically, like Chomsky says,
we see things in forms of Machines.

But even in Machines, there are Mutations and/or Imperfections.
These are not Mutations at all, or Imperfections. These are just another part of the System, created by Nature.
We expect Nature to be: ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta;
not: ta-ta-lalalalala-ta-ta,
and so, when this happens, we call it a Mutation,
yet it keeps happening throughout Nature and Time.
Even the machines that we create, do this very same thing.
Even our DNA. Even Language.
All these things happen from Connections...
with others, with ourselves, with people we've never met,
with objects, with animals, with our bodies, with thoughts and feelings...
This all comes back to what we call "Karma".

It is hard for me to believe that there is not an unseen force or
Higher Power;
when I say this, I don't necessarily mean God or Heaven or Hell,
or anything religious at all; these are just terms in which
we describe the same things differently.
I do not believe in a Higher Power because I want to go to heaven,
or because I want my parents to be happy after Death.
I believe there is a Higher Power,
because there is proof all around us...

The cells inside our body have no idea why they do their job each day,
kind of like us Humans,
yet we go on living the way we do, performing the tasks
that we're meant to perform.
You could argue that cells don't have a conscious,
or that animals don't, for that matter,
so they have no way of thinking about or comprehending
Life.

But I believe the opposite.
There is no way for us to shrink down and understand
the way that each organism lives,
but it does live.
All things are equal, and though smaller organisms may not grasp
what we grasp;
We may not grasp, what other organisms in the Universe grasp.
Cells and organs live inside of our bodies:
As we live inside of Earth;
It is hard for us to know what is Beyond that.

One thing I know for sure,
depending on your definition of "Reason",
we do live for a reason,
just as the cells in our bodies live to keep us Alive.
Is it possible we are keeping something bigger than us
Alive?

It may not matter to us, since it is an unseen Force,
but the force is certainly there,
which leaves the Explanatory Gap between Science
and the Mind, and Action.
It is there. It is happening. We cannot explain it.
Maybe we never will, so as Chomsky says,
"We live, then turn to dust, and that is all we are."
But that is just a way of looking at things,
like saying the glass is half empty.
I like to think mine is half Full.

If everything did not Connect,
we would not do things for others,
we would not work,
we would not talk,
we would not be human,
we would be Nothing, as we know it.

So, yes, I believe all is connected.
I believe there is no such thing as coincidence.
I believe Mutation and Chaos are an equal part of Nature,
and they represent a Pattern so vast,
which supports a much, much larger Equation to Life
than we can understand Now.
This, I believe.
Continue reading...
Dondaycee Mar 2018
OMM (Oxy-Made Morons)
When I was a child, I asked the question, “what is life?”
Mama said: “A journey back towards heaven.”
I asked Granma, “what is heaven?”
She said: “A place with love-“
Okay look, that’s all I heard; the rest was above my level of comprehending for at the time I was only seven,
But love… love… that’s the one thing I never questioned,
That was the one thing that gave me unlimited lessons,
Because “What is love?” became the daily question,
Which gave me this experience of putting one before me,
After promising myself I’ll never put my “self” second,
If you’ve been reading my work, tranquilizarse,
If you’re new, this may seem foreign,
This is where I give a side note,
A quick lesson to help the reader recognize the tools needed to decipher the message before we go on,
There was a trinity,
If you missed it, don’t worry, here’s where the cycle is reborn,
If you noticed, then you know that the trinity is a oxymoron,
And this is a lie, because it’s the only word that fits,
A journey back towards heaven isn’t a contradiction,
It’s just a mission to remember the things we normally forget,
Like how we’re god, we’re created out of love, and before this incarnation, previously exist,
I didn’t say existed because we’re only a piece of our true self, another part some missed,
Because I promised my true self we’d never be second,
Which is why I put one before me,
Because if I see myself as individual, I would only ignore me,
If I’m only a piece, then there must be a collective that make up the one, whole, true me,
Again there’s no contradiction, because the meanings are not separate but simultaneously existing,
It’s like time, I’m only selecting a space, part, section that’s existing to explore me,
So if heaven is where god is, and I am a part of god, which is love,
Then myself is never in question, because “who am I?” is love,
A discoverment that happened after I questioned the meaning of love,
Because it’s a word recognized endlessly throughout the world by all whom theoretically propose it’s something that exists above,
I blame looking up being the reason we look down on ourselves,
We love god so much that there’s no room to give each other help,
Selfishness is the reason we can’t accept self reflect and frown on others,
If able, we’d see that we’re a reflection of one another and that we’re response able, to be responsible for each other; in order for our self to propel, all must remember ourselves,
We’re the trinity, God (Divine Mother and Father simultaneously existing) Omni,
We’re the trinity, Jesus (The children of the Mother and Father, Christ Consciousness) Godly,
We’re the trinity, Holy Spirit (Divine soul body that’s physical and non-physical (astral)) embodied,
We’re the trinity that we worship, another oxymoron that defines we,
Story time:
When I was seven I prayed for love, and that prayer lead me to the central coast,
I asked for someone who was a reflection, so that myself is evoked,
A coincidence that I will not speak of guided this story from hope,
This was a dream, but it was real, because now it’s reality and some of the details invoked my attention to note,
To write down these experiences so that others can understand how we write the songs we sing , and that it is practice that allows us to hit every note,
Again we create our journeys on how we get back in harmony,
There’s no auto tune, if out of tune it’s practice you need,
Have faith, remember the joy in being a kid, how you felt, how you gave before speech,
Lucky for me, being in the right place at the right time,
I laid eyes upon she,
It was love at first sight, because it wasn’t a moment of lust but a moment of us that displayed as an image of I, I mean what life, this experience, could be if I gave it my best shot, my best thought, and regardless of the outcome, had her by my side to magnify the experience of being me, and growing to a peak where we would live in this bliss filled state of being,
And after seeing, stood two thoughts that sparked all my curiosity;
“How do we get there? Does she feel this too?”, for these are the unknowns that lead to precocity,
It’s not that I couldn’t see,
It itself was just another experience for we,
I was very certain, which is why preparing was urgent,
I urgently needed patience for our realities to merge and,
Start a new unknown experience, a quest that’s divergent,
Those last two lines are for the *****’s observant serpents,
You’re not dumb for missing the clues,
All you have to do is use the tools you now have to solve the problems that you previously, unintentionally, unconsciously, created like an excuse,
It’s never too late to reflect on why and how you became you,
Because that type of questioning will only lead to discovering the truth,
And how you’re the lie you told yourself to keep life borin,
Because you’re everything you are and everything you’re not, and that’s an oxymoron.
Life love choice experience knowledge you self
Continue reading...
George Krokos Oct 2014
It Has Always Been You
General Note:
This is an autobiographical poem, given here in seven parts for reading convenience, which mentions some personal events of my life and the names of a few spiritual masters that I have read and studied a good deal about, the main ones being Paramahansa Yogananda and Meher Baba; the latter I have also written about in two other poems titled: #1 “The Highest Of The High” and #2 “The Universal Divine Plan” which are also posted on this website.*

Part 1
Even as a little child I do now recall
You often would respond to my call.
And whenever I was filled with sorrow
about certain things feared of tomorrow
You would comfort me in some natural way
assuring me there wouldn't be such a day
and then my heart would experience much joy
almost just like acquiring a long expected toy.

Together we would have laughter and fun
like a couple of children playing in the sun.
Though You did reproach me when I was bad
then lovingly forgive me when I'd be so sad.
You would always try and point out to me
the good things around there were to see.

You always were the one I called on when in need
beseeching You as no one else believed me indeed.
You were more or less my constant companion and friend
and together would see things through until the very end.
Now and then I would go my separate way and depart
but sooner or later I would remember You in my heart.
It seemed somehow, You had a permanent place in there
as if it would be impossible to leave it empty and bare.

Part 2
The days did pass by and as I was growing up with age
You would sometimes come and offer advice like a sage
especially when found out doing naughty things some days
by my elders, at the time, being not agreeable to their ways.
They would, by inflicting pain, try and get the message across to me
that what I'd been doing was particularly not very pleasing to see.
Those were the times when I would hide and cry my heart out,
wailing with remorse and anguish I would doubt You were about.
Blaming You for my misfortunes I would try and close the door
not accepting Your existence and then declaring a private war.
When all would become quiet and my mind's rage did subside
You would try and reason with me to put all my weapons aside.

Often were the times when I would listen rapt with awe,
to words of wisdom coming from deep in my heart's core.
Little did I know, at the time, that they would prove to be true,
as only to realise, much later in life, that they came from You.
Yet then, many a time, I had the temerity to pass You by
and meeting with troubles and difficulties wondered why.
The hardships I encountered seemed only to confirm in my mind
that You were a figment of my imagination better left far behind.

My alienation from You increased to such an extent,
as I grew up, becoming a storehouse of ill-content.
Associating with those very much in the same boat,
I began to drift and sink in life's tide rather than float.
Such was my plight, I realised, turning my back on You
ignorantly, yet willingly, tangling with a desparate crew.
That worldly ocean contains very many surprises in store,
for the unwary traveller, going away from the home shore.
By living an unnatural existence in a stormed-tossed sea
it's everyone for themselves disregarding their humanity.
But there were the moments when You would shine through
via members of my family and others advice on behalf of You.
Little did I heed though, what they would concernedly tell,
as I plunged headlong into a self-created, God forsaken hell.

Part 3
It was only through repeated experiences, I would learn
that, where I was heading, would surely make me burn.
Tempted with fancy indulgences my mind would lead me astray
and going from one extreme to the other in weakness I would stay.
Involved with those called 'friends' who really didn't know any better,
being like the blind following the blind, with many an unseen fetter.
It was living a life of sense pleasures; mainly that of wine, women and song,
which seemed to be what everyone else was doing, as each day came along.
Now and then I would stop to reflect on the state I found myself in
but, though I tried, didn't have the determination to leave and begin
a new life which would bring out and develop my real self
instead I wallowed in the mire of this worldly life like an elf.

Then the seemingly unexpected happened, while reeking with taints
I stumbled onto some wisdom through the words of one of Thy Saints.
Paramahansa Yogananda was one of Thy true and recent devotees;
mystic, philosopher, poet and saint, through Yoga he was all of these.
The story he told of life, in a far distant land, awakened my sleeping soul,
overwhelmed my mind with inspiration and taught that You were the goal.

He made the words of the New Testament come alive for me,
with patience and love, showing how real they could easily be.
Without any coercion he helped me realise the truth they contained
for many years escaping my attention though now readily attained.
By dispelling my ignorance he was leading me gently back to You
with Divine knowledge and practical wisdom, I did follow him too.
He helped to turn my gaze inside so that I may see the Inner Light
and by acting on his advice was able to behold that blessed sight.
Transforming my existence, he told me that which I hungered for,
ignorantly looking in the wrong direction not knowing any more.
I began to know the meaning of discipline, in a persons' life by which
any individual could rise from the bottom of existence and so reach
that state of consciousness from where all problems were resolved
through perseverance and grace did get myself seriously involved.

Part 4
He opened up a whole new world of possibilities and life to see,
while reading and comprehending his words power flowed in me.
Then one day at work almost at the turn of a new year,
I heard someone mention a name they held quite dear.
It must of remained in my head like a dormant and potent seed,
because it was associated with a person of a very high breed.
As it turned out an incident happened, involving someone dear in my life,
which I recognized to be more than a chance to end some personal strife.
So, early in the new year, I became determined to give it a go,
that is, live up to my highest aspirations, forsaking much woe.
In order to remove the distance between myself and that which I aspired to
many things were done, impossible it seemed, while keeping my mind on You.

With the knowledge and courage garnered by Yoganandaji's grace
I began to come closer to You at quite a remarkably steady pace.
A lot of things were given up, mainly those holding me heavily down,
and other things were taken up, suggested by Your chosens' renown.
Purification of body and mind was the main way to achieve that end,
sublimation of all actions, inner motives, Your Will I could not offend.
You had to become my One and Only, all else I had to give away,
all that I thought was mine belonged to You, having the final say.
You were everywhere, in everything and also in everyone,
I sought to please You only, like Your Own Begotten Son.
This was more easily said than done as I soon began to see,
that I virtually had to cease to exist and live totally in thee.
How I were to do this was beyond my situation at the time
though I tried with a little success in that favorable clime.

Part 5
Then I remembered that name mentioned just a short while ago
and thus made some effort to find out more as I needed to know.
I came across and even bought a few books relating to that name,
thus began another chapter in my life which wasn't quite the same.
What I began to read was the culmination of all that had come before
and by maintaining a steady discipline realized incredibly much more.
My expectations and joy increased so much so in what I had found
all else meant nothing to me, it seemed, coming across Holy ground.
The words I read were so beautiful, loving, very profound and true
I was dumbfounded to realize they were coming directly from You.

The books I read were by and about a person called Meher Baba
whose name in English was translated as 'Compassionate Father'.
In actual fact He never wrote those books at all as such
but dictated the words on an alphabet board in his clutch.
He would spell every word out to one of His close ones patiently,
by pointing to each letter in the words, moving His finger quickly.
His close one would then record what was 'said' each time by Him
for the benefit of those who would come later, such was His Whim.

He did not write or speak during the greater part of His life,
communicating with silent gestures, not even having a wife.
The words that He 'spoke' were of the highest wisdom and Love,
bringing down Divine Truth, with which to awaken us, from above.
He confirmed and corrected what all the others said about You,
knowing more than the others did, but also respecting their view.
His was the highest philosophy that's ever been described by hand,
by anyone before or since, in this world, anywhere inscribed on land.
He was The One I was always looking for everywhere to find
You were really Him being the latest Unique One of The Kind.
He was also from the same league as Zoroaster, Rama, Krishna, Buddha,
Jesus and Muhammad, but appearing this time around called Meher Baba.

Part 6
You, Him and all the Others were the same One, it was emphasized,
but each time You'd come down were so very differently disguised.
Each time You would come heralding a New Age and New Humanity,
which was what some of Your Saints were preparing mankind to see.
By discipline, meditation, study, prayer, purification of body and mind,
one could devote them self to You in daily life, so not to be left behind
in the coming New World Order which shall abate the rushing tide
of ignorance and selfishness, being a part of mankind's lower side.

We have all seen and should know how bad its really been lately,
with all the wars and power struggles that have passed belatedly;
causing so much destruction, pain, loss of life and property
Your words would ring through my brain jolting my memory:
You said 'such are the pangs and symptoms of spiritual rebirth'
and that all would be affected by Your presence on this earth.
Which is due to mankind's forgetfulness, of its divine origin, and is instead
all engaged in asserting short lasting and false values lodged in its head.
These are based on illusion which is the reason we are grossly misled
being the cause of much evil, having ignored what You previously said.
It's only by living a divine life while here on this earth that we can all
fulfill life's purpose thus being not required to come back any more.

You compassionately stated the importance of following a Perfect Master (See Note #1)
by surrendering and obedience to Him/Her anyone could get there much faster.
He/She was someone who had already achieved life's purpose and Divine goal
and was the very embodiment and shining example of man's Highest Soul.
Only by becoming as dust at the feet of such a living true saint,
seekers could gain His/Her grace and so attain a life free of taint.

Part 7
Your advent here amongst us was like the 'spring tide of creation',
when everyone gets a gentle 'push forward' to a higher life station.
The work You did while here was often very intense and exhaustive
so much so that many times You remained very aloof and seclusive.
Undergoing a great deal of suffering while working within the inner planes
uplifting mankind's consciousness by removing the vitiating mental stains,
that have accumulated over all the years to such an enormous extent
obscuring the Light of Love and Truth revealed by Your last advent.

The words You gave came from the Source of Truth and have real meaning
and those who are ready to receive them there's a rich harvest for gleaning.
Though You did say that You 'have come not to teach but to awaken'
and it was because of Love, in this present form, Your Spirit had taken.
You showered on those who came before You of Your Love, peace and charity
not forgetting the good humor and Divine Knowledge imparted out of necessity.
Continually exhorting Your dear ones that by remembering and loving You all would be well
because You were the God man (See Note #2) Who was the slave of Your lovers; by Grace one could tell.
You did mention many times that You were not limited by this apparent human ****** form
and that You used it only to manifest Thy compassion being more accessible than the norm.
Coming down to be amongst us on our level so that we could catch a glimpse of You as before
appeasing our spiritual hunger; by sight, touch, words and deeds, thus confirm our faith for sure.

_________
Note #1
A Perfect Master or Sadguru (Satguru) can be either male or female and is on the 7th Plane of Consciousness (Involution).and has achieved full Self-Realization and is one with God. Also called a Man or Woman God. He or She live the life of God in the world and wield infinite power, knowledge and bliss. A person who comes into contact with a Perfect Master is helped to progress on the spiritual path.
See also ‘Discourses‘ and ‘God Speaks’ by Meher Baba

Note #2
Also known as or called an Avatar – a direct and full Incarnation of God in human form. The Avatar appears on earth (is brought down) every once in a while - from between 600 to 700 years or 700 to 1400 years - when there is a great upheaval or turmoil in the world. The 20th Century was marked by two World Wars and the threat of Nuclear Destruction.
See also ‘Discourses ‘ and ‘God Speaks’ by Meher Baba.
#god #religion #meditation #path #spiritual #plan #divine #autobiography #yoga #avatar
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Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
Mystique
Mystique

- a framework of doctrines, ideas, beliefs, or the like, constructed around a person or object, endowing the person or object with enhanced value or profound meaning: "the mystique of Poe."

- an aura of mystery or mystical power surrounding a particular occupation or pursuit: "the mystique of nuclear science."

the mystique of Poe,
the mystique of nuclear science,

don't you see the irony extraordinaire,
the perfect intersection of
human and science?

atoms of a poet.

what, who better to
radiate
the profound complex meaning of
mystique

smile while
commencing the
delving, inhaling,
comprehending,
subsuming the
aura of human cells
odors of the atomizer
flavors mellifluous
chain reacting

the set theory of all my senses,
at the ultimate overlapping
of the primordial intersection
of the nucleus.

I am the living scientific proof,
the written poem,
the
realization of mystique,
the enhanced value
of the human you.
Written to Copeland's Variations on a Shaker Melody

For she who knows where the inspiration came from...
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Left Foot Poet Nov 2017
The Allusionists (Mary Winslow and Jeff Stier)
The Allusionists (Mary Winslow and Jeff Steir)

these two allusionists  **(not illusionists!)

composition is a criminal sentencing, a full-time sensitizing,
a never ending t/rue seeing, recalling, photography by word.

I am a career criminal.  I know.

these two retranslate by digging into word wells and
well hid storage closets under stairs so that we,
the not-in-attendance may envision their sightings with
two hands clutching, comprehending almost better than
the one who is actually there.  

for our version, the one they provide is,
coffee with cream,
scotch with a  beer chaser, tea with honey,
all to be, sipped slow, so
the hot frost on my the chest, infiltrating nostrils,
Vaporub-spreads slow and easy, brainward.  

the allusionists.

the habitual employers of this
specific filter,
(word weavers, I call them behind their backs),
weaving is not in my eternally planned skill set.  

I do so admire their tapestries
that guilt alone demands tribute and obeisance
and this poor imitation.  

I do so admire their tapestries.
November 25, 2017. 11:07 AM.
#leftfootpoet #the #allusionists #mary #winslow #and #jeff #stier
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r Oct 2013
Persistent Places
Persistent places
Sequent occupations of the landscape diachronically
Consisting of Action, Search, and Awareness Spaces

Action Spaces
The foci of people comprehensively
Interacting  with their place

Search Spaces
Where people go
To fulfill specific needs

Awareness Spaces
Those places people are aware of
But do not interact directly

These spaces that appear as palimsests
Accumulated layers of action, search and awareness
Comprehending persistent places is to understand the past

r  30Oct2013
Inspired by Dr. Lewis Binford's "Willow Smoke and Dogs' Tails: Hunter-Gatherer Settlement Systems and Archaeological Site Formation, 1980, American Antiquity, Vol 45, No. 1.
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amanda castagneto Apr 2014
Ripples of Nirvana
Something simple, something sweet...
Something magical, my souls favorite treat.
The calm before the storm. A captivating blur,
Of feelings no bystander could infer.
A magical intensity of silent poetry.
Bittersweet bliss manifesting inside of me.
Spontaneity whipping through the air.
All sense of reality halts in the company we share.
Clouds of the past dissipate,
With each ray of sunshine you create.
A roller-coaster ride lacking a safety belt,
Surpassing any type of affection ever felt.
Like riding a wave, yet a board would serve no purpose...
If you have me constantly floating above the surface.
Reality holds no depiction to genuinely describe,
The notion of comprehending all that is inside.
Foraging for a taste of your soul, my eyes are met with a blue abyss.
Shaded ripples of Nirvana, too precious to resist.
Drifting towards the center, a black hole draws me in.
Here I realize I had found my key to explore within.
A whirlwind of beauty emerging from every angle.
So engulfed in the chemistry, I am now comfortably tangled.
Smacked with a supercharged rush leaving me numb, frozen with awe.
Eventually revived, your lips casually departing mine...the first thing I saw.
September 10, 2013
#love #poetry #eyes #reality #blue #lips #sweet #nirvana #abyss #purpose #bittersweet #key #affection #simple #chemistry #revived #captivating #spontaneity
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Polby Saves May 2010
Situational Neglect
I'm surrounded by the sounds of ******* idiocy
The television that never shuts off or up
The moronic laughter at the low brow sit-com
Do you realize the sound you emit
Your double digit I.Q. on display, gleaming
Made almost brighter in the technicolor
Not knowing, comprehending that it should clothe and hide
Itself
Mouth agape, eyes X-ed
Until the simple comments on the banal commentary
Start spilling out the neck
I can smell it and I want to wretch
Copyright © 1996-Present- From The Crawlspace in the Cranium
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Kara Jean Jun 2016
Grandma says Hi
The phone ringed, I gazed at the screen.
I had never seen the number before.
Baffled, I handed it over to my handsome husband.
"Answer it," shoving it towards his head.
He hurried and said "hello, who is calling."
He looked at me blank and weirdly saying "I will grab her. Wait briefly."
His eyes blazed into me, "it's your grandma."
Shaken, I said, "Hello."
She did a joyful, "hello Kara Jean."
Determined to figure out what was happening.
I proudly said, " you must have the wrong number both my grandmas are dead."
She replied "I'm so sorry what a coincidence.
My granddaughter is also Kara Jean.
I swear we've been here once before."
Giggling I commented, "that's remarkably crazy. I'm not remembering."
Silence hit the air.
The old cracked voice women said, "or maybe it's just your grandma calling from heaven to tell you she loves you."  
My throat being choked nothing would really be announced.
Finally my voice complied, " What did you just say I'm not comprehending."  
An earth shattering laugh went over the phone, "You sound pretty amazing.
I know if you were my grand baby,
I would be proud to be graced by you."
Words failed me being a first.
Before I could get it together enough to say what the hell is happening.
She exclaimed hastily,
"I must be on my way, "know your grandmas undeniably love you."
Click went the phone gone with no trace.
Uncontrollable tears gushing out of my face.
Reacting as if everything was falling away from my body.
Was I hallucinating.
Could someone been playing a cruel joke?
Who would have the audacity.
Considering, could it have truly been a toll free call from heaven.
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jeffrey conyers Jun 2015
God (The Counselor)
We place more burden upon ourselves.
We places plenty upon him.
Without comprehending he deals with more.
Cause he doesn't place anything in your life that you can't handle.

We panic.
We stress.
We complain.
We confess.
But the burden doesn't fade.

With rationality, we realize things aren't as bad as they seem.

Burden just's apart of life's things.

He listen.
He guides.
He's the best counselor of depression to be by your side.
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Nat Lipstadt Aug 2023
My Woman, My Partner
My Woman, My Partner

we need today it seems identifiers moreover,
as we slice, dissect, and categorize the W’s of our
individual experience,
by defining ourselves as pieces of categories

Today, woke with this title-to-be-poem in my head,
My Woman, My Partner

I like particular, individuating descriptors that distinguish
rather than categorize, summary’s that capture the
roomy broad and small strokes, the subtleties of capturing~
encompassing an image total, and yet intuitively tasting and
comprehending the depths and flavoring of our totality,
a combinatory humanity

my choice was My Woman, which was comprehensive
and distinguished, yet upon consultation with said person,
for pre-authorization approval, it was returned to me with
an engine-heart additive, that was both a word that denotes a
binding, ties, equality, and takes it to another, even ever
highest level,

this essay on how I came to title this poem, well, is the poem
in its entirety, it is the process, the point, the summary and the
minutiae of all I wished to convey.


Sunday Aug 13 8:03 AM
#my #woman #partner #lipstadt
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Audrey Bautz Mar 2013
2. Bound For Home
Bound for Home
Dawn rested still, upon the horizon as the clouds circled the sun like hungry hawks.
The sky contemplated its’ disguise between a dismal gray and a crisp-blue.
My head ached as I stirred from my winter-induced coma
- and found myself gazing up at an inviting sunrise.
Bright, beautiful colors swam in the sea of sky,
tireless pinks and reds masked in specks of gold
- enveloped the thick purple clouds.
With the immaculate mix of hues
it would have appeared that God Himself
- was trying to entice me to go on living.
For, in the midst of life, we are in death,
Heaven must be of moments like this
- when the balance of life is harmonious.
Perhaps I was dead, I was beyond pain,
- and the sky was the clearest I had ever seen.
I attempted to move but found myself unable to,
- my legs pinned down, seemingly more like hell
as the beautiful open sky before me
clung to the riches of the earth with my poor soul
- confined to the fleshy-tombs of sin.
My eyes fell upon a creature of familiar air,
- as it twitched between the rise and fall of a pulsating-chest.
Upon further investigation,
I was shocked to discover the body to be that of a dog
- no not a dog . . . a wolf . . .
- the wolf from the previous night.
She stirred with a sigh and lifted her massive head.
My breath went coarse and my heart began to pound
- as though it were fighting to presume its’ natural rhythm.
She turned her attention to me as I gasped,
- her deep blue expression seemed tamed, almost human-like.
Though for some unknown reason, I was not frightened,
- only, surprised and relieved at how tender she was.
She stumbled in her morning-daze to her feet and stepped back.
I studied her manner, still skeptic, but overall excepting of my new friend.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A few hours after staggering to my feet,
I was working the feeling back into my right foot.
It never regained itself as did the rest of me,
- so I stooped over a blazing fire vigorously rubbing it.
The sun shone bright through the tree tops
- and I relished every moment she spared.
Back in my limbo, I pressed on,
- no food, and limited supplies.
My wolf-friend jumped through the snow
- racing me along the path,
- she only stopped to look back when she did not hear me.
I adored how it was that she could have easily disguised herself in the snow,
- her beautiful white fur carrying only a slight tint in the tail and behind her ears.
I halted in my steps to process my thoughts,
-but the grip of winter tightening about my brain, made it impossible,
All that could be accessed was the presence of a single quote.
(Funny how moments can be broken by the strangest occurrences.)
I gazed ahead at the majestic grace of the wolf, only to say:
“The joy in looking and comprehending
- is nature’s most beautiful gift.”
“That was poet John Dryden . . . " I continued.
Life has a reason to its' madness as did I to my thoughts,
That quote had its' reason for presenting itself at that moment.
And as though needing some approval I began to think aloud:
“The greatest gift given to humankind is the blessed view around us.
The process of slowing down
so one might gaze upon the glories of mother earth.”
“I am still here, so I must consider the reasoning behind this.”
The wolf tilted her head then jumped back into a running position
- left me far behind.
I suppose I am not terribly angry at this most unfortunate dilemma.
Why who knows, it could bring forth a plethora of final moments to reflect upon.
Anyhow, if winter does not finish me,
- then most certainly hunger and dehydration will, I thought to myself.
My friend, at this point, was not in eyesight and the first snowfall started.
And with any signs of our existence soon disappearing beneath the fresh layer of snow,
I took it upon myself to rest my aching feet.
I glanced up and called, my voice shaking through the empty walls of land.
"We shall rest here."
The trumpeting gallop of paws brought her back into my sight.
She circled around my stooping body and stretched herself out.
“You are very kind to aide me in my final days.
You are not like the others.
I haven’t had the pleasure in having a true friend in years.
So . . . since you are a friend,
I can’t very well be calling you, “Wolf . . . ”
Everyone needs a name if they wish to be claimed
. . . You remind me of an old beauty.
- Something not seen since long ago.
Hmm . . . Mika!
- . . . Yes, with a foreign beauty such as yours’ . . .
Mika fits very well indeed.”
She glanced up at me with a light dispersing from her eyes,
- as though satisfied with my decision; a blessing upon her name.
After a while my eyelids fell victim to a weight and slowly they closed.
“Perhaps . . . ” I mumbled.
“ . . . a nap for us aged-souls.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The fresh frost seeped into my pants as I forcibly opened my eyes.
The hours chasing away the light as twilight descended.
My head ached and stomach cried out from hunger-pains.
I found Mika sound asleep upon my legs.
She had an atrocious snore that could wake any nearby town.
“Mika!” I whispered. “Wake up Mika.”
Her eyelids moved,
- then slowly blossomed two beautiful blue eyes.
I pulled out from under her and grabbed any nearby sticks and fallen branches.
Of all my supplies the matchbox was the most used.
I pulled out one of the few remaining matches and struck it.
Within moments the fire spread throughout the wood and light flooded us and the trees.
Mika stood to her feet and yawned. She then ****** her head and ran into the darkness.
“Mika!” I cried.
She had not returned for some minutes when I heard the rustling of something from within the thick black surrounding myself and the fire.
“Mika?” I cried out again.
A dark figure appeared dragging with it some unknown object.
As it came closer I noticed the gentle white of Mika’s fur.
She had with her a branch of some sort. I arose to look closer.
It was a holly branch, on which grew clusters of bright red berries.
She struggled with bringing it toward the fire
- but the branch was no match for her strength as she dropped it at my feet.
I sat back down by the light and stared at the branch.
She let out one enormous bark,
demanding in tone, as though giving me an order.
“What, am I to do with this?” I asked puzzled.
Again she barked that demanding bark and began to incessantly whine.
“Mika, if this is what I’m thinking your actions to be true . . .”
I continued. “I am not eating that!”
"I appreciate your enthusiasm
- no matter how inconvenient and wearisome it maybe.
However, I must put before, anything else that of which I came here to do."
She whimpered beneath her pants
- stepping in closer as if to gesture an insistence.
The fire pulsated against her thick coat as she nudged the branch toward me.
I gazed at her unmoved continuing:
“You’ve delayed me a day already!
You were a witness to last night.
You watched me lie by the fire,
you saw the emptiness in my eyes, the lack of life."
She did not understand I could see
as she remained just as stubborn as I in her position before me.
My weariness grew and after some moments of exchanges I stated:
"I will not entertain your desire to continue on!”
“Do you understand . . . I refuse to.
I am ready to die . . . I miss my family.”
She walked over to me and rested her head delicately upon my lap.
“I know what you must be thinking.” I went on.
“You’re thinking, no problem is worth dying over
and perhaps you’re right,
but I no longer wish to waste my life living in this hell.”
She lifted her head to gaze up at me.
“I’ve lost everyone . . . I dug the graves for each one with my own two hands.
I live with that knowledge,
and this painful beating continues to pump the blood through my veins."
She retained her composure of wistful regards in the deep pool of her blue sight.
"I no longer wish to live,
- when my family remains six-feet deep in the rich soil they helped to plow!
Without family what is there to life? Whom do I laugh with, cry with?”
“Family is life . . .
- without them there is no life.
It has been this way since the dawning of all humanity."
I stopped upon the realization that my conversation was one-sided
simply finishing by stating:
“My dear little Mika, you are a wolf
and wolves are known for their obedience to their pack.
I am simply longing to return to mine."
The fire popped and cracked in its’ brilliant motion
and I remained quiet until my consciousness surrendered to the night.
Chapter 2 of my poetry novel. Enjoy. Any comments would be appreciated.
Continue reading...
Sajay Jai Singh Dec 2015
What Is A Man?
What is a man, if not a moment of time?
A moment, lived truly alive,
Soul dancing to the hymn of life,
Pure, lucent, the chains forgotten?


What is a man, if not a drop of rain?
Falling into the sea's might,
Together with so many, and yet alone,
Not knowing, or comprehending, yet putting up a fight?


What is a man, if not a child?
At the quest of a treasure, mundane,
Laughing, crying, at a moments rest,
As the waters of his mind rage disdain?


What is a man, if not a childish dream?
A glimpse of the truth.
A picture, divine.
What is a man if not the truth inside?


What is a man, if not his deepest fear?
Monsters which under the veil, hide,
What is a man, who knows not,
The darkness is all but an absence of light?


What is a man, if not a closed fist?
Clutching, hanging on to an illusion, vain,
"To let go would be  absurd", he tells himself,
As the other hand wipes tears from the pain.


What is a man, if not a fool, sly?
Calling the truth too fantastic, the song too sweet?
A fish afraid of the sea, a bird fearing the sky,
What is a man, if not his spirit, indeed?


What is a man, if not a writing in dust?
Words, which in the next moment, cease,
What is his life, if not a delusion?
Erased from existence, come the breeze?
#truth #sad #life #gloomy #people #soul #deep #humans #soulful #wayoflife
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Kaveri Goel Dec 2014
Comprehending her
I saw her descend.
Descend into her own currents,
From where, she told me, it was exhausting to return.

I could never quite understand it all.
The steps she took,
The sighs she heaved,
And the hopelessness she felt.

Often asked her, but she,
She only rarely responded.
Refused with blank shakes of head,
Or the smile without the eyes.

I do not know how to help her yet.
But I'll surely build her a boat if the need be,
To make her rise to her own salvation 
From the currents that storm within her.
She goes through a tough time.
Continue reading...
Despondent Mar 2014
Rewind
In the midst of nothingness
Searching through darkness
Embracing loneliness
Comprehending vagueness
Befriending uncertainties
Playing with vulnerabilities
Absorbing obscurities
Appreciating difficulties
Drudging malfunctions
Living with illusions
Addicted to intrusions
Slave of temptations

Colors of dark grey and black fill the world in which I live
No other feeling could possibly be worse than this
Where once was a room filled with laughter & Cheer
Now stands loneliness, emptiness and despair.
Memories of you seem to creep around the corners of my mind
Endless haunting images of your face that won't decline
An overwhelming of emotion that my body can't contain
Fills my soul with unbearable grief, sorrow, and pain
Oh, How I long to hold you in my arms just once more
And tell you that things will be again, as they were before
But, as reality sinks in, I know that will never be
For the choices that I've made in my life have sealed our destiny
No one could ever fathom how wretchedly my heart aches
And how I greatly regret that you've had to pay for my mistakes
If I could go back in time, and change only one wrong that I've done
I'd go back to the Hour, to the second, on the day I lost you.
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
Attention Poets, Marine On Deck!
(Dedicated to Stephen E Yocum)*



You who have spent time on this planet,
That you can count your annual growth rings,
By just employing a combination of
Fingers, toes, eyes and nose,
Stop and think, after reading on.

Forty years on, what are the words, the titles,
The honorifics that you would like to see
Next to your name?

There is a yeoman Yocum in our midst,
Who has collected a few adjectives,
The sum total if additive,
Is a resume most complete,
One you should envy!

Able Friend,
Lover of Dogs and Humans,
Gentleman Farmer, Decent Photographer,
Spinner of tall tales, woven for his
Grandchildren.

A writer, a poet,
He says "a would be,"
I say, one who attempts,
Puts his name on writs public,
Is no would-be!

Who here would dare disagree?

More than all this, unlike so many,
Grateful for everyday of life,
Even those ****** full of strife,
And who served, a grunt,
One of the proud, the few.

I salute, you, and call out,
Attention Poets, Marine On Deck!

But no stuffed shirt ,
A man of soil and earth,
Who can laugh at himself, and write,

"My driving experience feel greater,
Would be to speed down the road,
Behind the wheel of my little Red Racer,
Completely **** naked,
And of course,
Feel the wind in my hair."

It is easy to be some things.
It is hard to be many things,
But it is the hardest, and the best,
When you look back,
And laugh out loud, admit,
The funniest thing you know,
The one that keeps you sane,
The one-thing, hardest, and the best,
Is to laugh at yourself.

So stand attention,
Go to the mirror,
Tho you might not like what you see,
If you focus, and really look tight, squint,
Do not be surprised,
If, in a few minutes,
You burst out laughing,
Especially if you do it in your
Birthday suit!

Maintain this perspective,
Forward and retroactive,
And then perhaps,
You will be able to write
These words...like he did!

Where upon, sheer elated emotions,
Of this my journey of self discovery,
Began to sink in and I started to cry.

There are times is one's life,
when lessons are taught,
When almost no words
need to be spoken.

And the best teacher's are
our own Brain and Heart,
Comprehending, embracing
Life's many shared Lessons.*

Marine Slocum, Stand at Attention!
There are Poets saluting you.
Yocum, you were warned...

Reply Harlon Rivers   55 minutes ago
I hope more readers will discover a fine writer and a finer man. When I read about the "Red Racer" I remembered reading a quote that goes something like this; "The goal in Life’s Journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways. Totally worn out, shouting “whooo hoooo (!) what a ride!”" not mine but fitting...
Continue reading...
Moris Sep 2012
drop out, be an artist
reteaching myself artithmatic
variables and integers and invisible numbers
no longer the wallet or the will to return to university
instead resilient effort
of comprehending without hand
and now I can feel the ethic in the space resting between the cap of my pen
and
my curling lip.
feeding on knowledge
sustiaining dissatisfied soul.
maybe,
im just ******' tired of being an artist.
Continue reading...

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