The oxygen that we breathe
every minute of every day
is not lost
If we are in the same room –
or sealed hermetically for hours
in the cabin of a plane –
we breathe continuously
the same air,
the oxygen goes from me to you
and back again.
But air currents,
the jet stream,
cyclones and anti-cyclones,
all move the atmosphere further
and further still,
so that even if we are
on opposite sides of the globe,
separated by oceans,
it is a statistical certainty
that I still breathe in
atoms of oxygen
that were once
Do they carry your thoughts,
your poetry to me,
or mine to you?
Who can say?
I can but hope it,
as I thank you
for keeping me alive.
It’s been obvious for awhile now that we’ve gone our separate ways.
But I can’t help but bring you to the front of my mind every day I wake.
The urge to check up on you, make sure you’re okay, is unbearable to say the least.
To know if you look the same way you did nearly a year ago, or did you change?
To hear that laugh that used to make me sing.
To feel your touch graze my arm, caress my cheek.
All that keeps me going is the saying that everything happens for a reason.
Maybe fate will bring us together once again, even just as friends.
I look up at the sky and smile knowing you’re seeing the same as I.
The perspective might be different but you see the same moon, see the same clouds, feel the same wind.
Even if we have no future, we are all connected, whether we want to be or not.
And maybe that’s enough for me.
Here i am standing on an eerie looking stage,
Without a hint of nervousness,
How odd they say, to not feel the pressure being stared at by all these eyes
Being the centre of the attention,
Being the one to be judged,
Ahh yes.. Of course its odd for someone without the gift of sight
To be given the chance to speak for the world
A world where a man has been living in all his life,
Yet not a split second able to see.
Two broken souls
Trying to make each other whole
They were quite a mess when they found each other
Each had lived through torment, one after another
Her body was full of scars, just trying to maintain
His heart had been trampled and drained
They gave each other their own heart
They found it filled in all the parts
And together they were whole
They were connected, soul to soul
Her with all her worries of the future
He always tried to hush and nurture
He would slay all her demons and doubt
She showed him what true love was all about
They loved each other so
Like they had known each other long ago
They lived joyfully for many many years
There was only ever joyful tears
Until that one horribly sad day
The Lord took her away
On that day his true love died
He just wanted to be by her side
He just seemed to wither away
Without her by his side he didn't want to stay
Soon after he passed too
Even in death his true love he would pursue
They say he died of a broken heart
But I know it was because she had his missing parts
I tend to do this unforgiving
method of maddness when it comes to writing
I'll start and stop, repeating onto new work
unfinishing the last.
incomplete as each piece may be,
the brain is scattered
lost and afraid, it'll never feel the same way.
connected to what new beginnings
Here's a couple seating across a table
With plates full of yummies in their middle
Occasionally, their eyes would meet
For the most part,
their eyes were fixed on mobile screens.
A time meant for two to connect,
To plug into each other's world
But they chose to connect to
the world wide web instead
My son always surprises me...
and is way more brilliant
than I ever was... especially at that age.
Out of nowhere the other night he says
"You know we are all connected" and I say
"How do you mean?"
I can see the wheel just a turning in his pretty
little head and he says "we are related...all brothers
and sisters in this world." I agree with him and say "so
why do you think everyone fights so much?" and
without missing a beat he says "because they haven't
figured it out yet" <3
Happy Friday to you all!! :)
it's not so much a social force
it's not out to coerce
it's an embrace
and in the end
that's what it's all about
it's a focus on people
it's a focal point on community
a common unity of those entwined
common folk connected and over-lapped
those over-wrapped by common loves
securely bound by common ties
occupying common ground
filling common space
with a wrap-around embrace
that lasts a tight hold longer
that ignores odd body odour
an embrace that lasts
a whole lot together
- It's what we have
Not sure about the structure of this one. I compose on a phone screen a lot (rather than on paper or desktop), which leans me toward shorter lines and this has shorter lines than most of my wittering. Anyhow, I may try it again once I get to a desktop.
#2 Now edited with slightly longer lines and a little reworking, but not much.
I have not learned
to live, I got used to it
all in all an attempt
to be myself
who don't make demands
and are available
when I come or call
that I am lonely
With you, my attempt
to a relationship is different
Sometimes it goes well
thoughtlessly, by itself
so that I don't know afterwards
if we were connected
Sometimes I think about it
and I get lost in my mind
then, there is certainly
no contact, and I must
embrace you, feel the firmness
of your body to believe in us
this is my excavation to
the days coming along
running hands with laughter
throwing it down on the table
sister, these things don’t matter
when we’re twisting into the sun
with pants that are too short
the fountain rich with
tangled with the peculiar
through these moments
our hearts for finding each other
love is always on the move
as sure as shoe shine
like timidity to relinquish
to let the universe take hold
and instill this emotion
into my body
fit it all in my heart
O, singer of love
fit it all in my heart
the cotton that lands
on your hair
the sunscreen stuck in my ear
we are a sketch of two travelers
sleeping under stars
finally dies down
the rapture of the universe
everyone is connected
and this music we hear
like gentle waters falling
this too, sister
makes my cane solemn
and I draw you in the sand
only to watch the tide
wash you next to me
wrangled in English
simply means good
a full listen and
because everything begins
and will be remembered always
dreams come true
when you get real
with a heart for any fate
find the answers
there is strength in knowing
everything is connected
see the universe
with eyes that see yourself
changing for good
in every moment
the power of spirit matters
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.
Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.
Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.
The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.
Red knot shorebird,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Red knot shorebirds are endangered birds due to human greed and ignorance. B95 is a survivor who has traveled the moon and halfway back in terms of distance.
Never worth that fight
Fight only for innocence
Innocence runs through you
You are alive
Alive, but not awake
Awake the dormant innocence
Innocence that runs through you
You fight only to compete
I love you
I love you
I'd like to say it
I do the math
We try to
I'm completely sleeping
Death is a reclaiming
when life becomes absorbed
in the ground, in the air
in the moment
when our loved one goes
the reclaiming takes part of us
as we too become connected
to the fullness of their emptiness
it is more than the mind can understand
only the soul knows
the connection is real
Through all this unborn silence is a legion of angels humming.
When I my fairy fantasy self arrive back home the strings that are bathed in golden light and that connects us will be revealed.
I'll think back to when I was a child and made of pieces.
How I would look up at sky blue like nothing really mattered.
Those drifting clouds muttering hallow English words at each other.
This galaxy in my grasp, vibrating with such mass that purple dust pours from the cracks of my clenched fists.
These dust particles are the size of planets.
Like sad dandelions spores they drift lethargic and unbalanced into higher dimensions.