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Universal Thrum Sep 2013
Oh, But what does it all mean Hidalgo?
Are we to fly in the face of the North Wind forever?

My mind has gone blank at the question.
Stranger still, the story perceived in prescient anticipation of the exact mentioned query once expounded upon spanning millions of miles of eloquent esoteric linguini, wit and charm with a dash of philosophic consequence, to fool you (the eager) into belief.

What is belief Hidalgo, but the suspension of reality, for an adept deeper world of unseen truth?

Do we see reality at all my friend? It is already shaped by our perceptions, responds to our expectations, nay we have not a clue, perhaps the arcane texts written by the hobo scholars of old hold the answer, so yet we settle on the material and fixate it as the lone clear star in an otherwise dark and cloudy sky. Mysteries abound behind the cosmos. Even when we look, do we really see, or are we as an insect upon the written page, crawling over the plain meaning? Is our capacity to hear underwhelmed by our propensity to listen? All these senses must count for something, for God is in a blade of grass, is he not, felt by the trodden hoof of the foot.

You’re a clever mad man Hidalgo.

Ay, the penultimate creator, singing in a sea of song, shining in a wave of light, lost in a dance of fractals, we are all the same rascal, blind though we are to the portrait of man, always creating, same as my neighbor, weaving dreams into Technicolor realities to beam into a future unknown. Our descendants watching us as reality television, mocking our fallibility, or perhaps empathizing and learning through telescopes strong enough to win a foot race with the sun; flying around the bend of space time and back.

The birds of the island are calm today; think they favor a slumbering respite from the noonday heat?

Mayhaps we’ll take a stroll across the columnous muddy bed, risking grey clay mummified suffocation; I dreamt as such. Yesterday’s storms make the journey perilous. My own thoughts leak from the grandiose ether and compel me to genius, the condition of the interminably insane or divine.

My bare feet tread the good earth, the 3rd density, in a daily attempt to stay grounded, however my mind is always floating, receiving transmitted whispers. Sanctified secret musings of the muse. Scribbled poetry of another dimension, meaningless to the materially minded, yet wholesome for the moment. Like a thunderstorm whose power is plain, yet unheard and unseen as the forest falling with a tree. Where do the tree and the forest begin? Are they the same root? Like my thoughts from a universal mind, the zeitgeist of an all-encompassing mood, a social memory complex.

The sophists will claim you are dodging responsibility. These tangents serve only to feed your egoic mind, but put no food in your belly nor rent in another’s hand.

Ay, but its creation all the same.
A tirade of compulsions. The ringing of the hill grows, the natural chorus of bugly unison screaming its existence into the manifold, manifesting itself to the initiate.

For what are they asking, could it be peace?

Ha Ha! Those shrill like cries wound the ears of the prideful dog, but are contained in the silences of the infinite potential all the same.

A man may change one hundred lives in a day, and earn no material currency for his unasked effort. Therefore, who is trivial? I change the wind by simply being, its current flows over me and the endless blades alike.

Vibratory love, what is that feeling, the realest phenomena of all?

Bliss in its own awareness, reveling in self-revelation, actualization, the knowingness of the child who still sees the spirit existing in each of the physical realm’s shadows. The taste of the foul and pure passing without judgment to the innocent tongue. A simple being secure with the wisdom of the wise. Does the power come from you or the hill, inspiring motions, accounting on the page symbolically. Break it down further. Dissolve. ******* into nothingness.

What is cheating Hidalgo?

Is the ant called to my arm by its own volition, how did it find me here on this patch of earth formed into mound by ancestors buried below.

Opening up all channels now.

Death locks the door with life’s key.

Should I let him crawl over me repeatedly?

Ten words to speak before the coming of the night.

Creative Destruction
Awake from the trance
Guns and Bullets
Shoot from our hands
Teller of Tales
Faint whisperer
Of sordid man’s
Hallucinatory waking
Follow the Beam
Follow the beam
The world before this world
Secrets unseen
My best thoughts come
As I lie suspended awake in sleep
Before sleep
No troubles
The curse runs blood deep
He closes the book but still speaks in rhyme
The riddle draws madness
The tongue laps up the fire
Drawn from self same wells
Will and Desire
Pruning and Preening
Political Beasts are we
Lost in our notions
I find, I keep
Braggadocioc Players
Upon the Worldly stage
Every person has the story
Only what is real?
What is fate?
So I lift my hat
To another year born true
A quarter century passed
Play the tune


Am I awaken by words from another man’s sleep?
What is the source of the tetradactyl nature?
My hexagonal heap
Of flesh and bones
Earth and dust
Brought together again by unending sound vibrating ceaselessly
I sleep but am not rested
Eat but am never full
The piper plays among the sand
Whirling in the heart of the caged word
If I keep my eyes fixated on a point, in actuality my vision expands and visualizes all

Reputationally speaking,
I am an ant, with male pattern baldness
We forget to chuckle at life’s absurdities, just as we pass by flowers without engaging the fragrance.


Rest your head with the hillside now
Restless wanderer of fantastical dreams

Treading water silently until our legs melt
Just as the weary albatross cries its last song over the harbor or the butterfly ***** its freckled wings, so too will we see the setting of the sun and a coming of the new dawn. If the chalk works carved in the abandoned sidewalk are to be believed, so must we girdle ourselves for the coming tides and lift our spirits once more for the ebb and flow of circumstance. The bike rides in the gutter all the same, and the forgotten cemetery stone stands as testament to the age gone by.
Martha Jordan Feb 2010
Even though we’re leagues apart
Measure my heartbeats by ear, sir
Part these waters from my tears
Tell me that you can tell the difference
I know that you’ll leave me as soon as I can
Need someone, anyone, anything, something
Empathizing with me is worthless; I can’t feel
Surely you must see my pain growing
Surely you must hear my heart breaking
Olivia M Jackson Jul 2010
Streaming glitter
Suspended laughter
Delayed happiness
Evident abasement
Surmounting fears
Shadows dance in torment

Pleasant gestures
Pretence abundant
Deferred bliss
Creeping obscurity
Empathizing stares
Lured smiles led to drown

Malevolent touch
Masked intentions
Insubordinate emotions
Disappearing identity
Longing spirit
Laughter is beheaded

Joyful wickedness
Jeweled thorns
Loving stabs
Poisoned kisses
Unassuming mortal
Beauty lays dead
© 2010 Olivia M. Jackson
Tiara I S May 2019
There's trauma interlocking my genetics
Stripped of specifics boiled into one
My own blood stained with my ancestors' rapes
23% White in my DNA sickens my bones
How much of it was forced upon my people
My great great and further back peoples
How many mothers thighs ripped apart to give birth to the innocent child of white devils
To be beaten by the white she-devil for "enticing" her man

For the child- if lighter- it be favored but enslaved in the home- near that very room they were criminally conceived

How many young Black men taken and ***** to be emasculated and sedated to work passively upon the plantation
Take a wife- to have her taken to masters room
Have a daughter- son- and the pattern roll on

How many white people and non-black people believe Black peoples to be inherently ****** to this **** day
These are the origins

If White people ignore my claims
Then you- white man- woman- person
You are just as guilty as the slave owners
Just born centuries too late for free labor
You must pity this of yourself too

To ignore Black peoples cries is to be complacent in our mistreatment
To not listen is to feel we were deserving of our suffering
To have happily whipped and beaten your fellow man if born back then

To support U.S. military veterans and be empathizing of their trauma
While rolling eyes to when Black people don't trust police, the government, or all White people of high status
Invented- created- controlled- plagued by White people
Because of 300+ years of trauma has brazed us with forced submission
To ignore the intergenerational neglect of treatment among Black people

Makes you a slave master on a cold December in 1865 missing your slaves just born modern day
The title is referring to the fact that so many White people have SCREAMED in my face that SLAVERY HAPPENED SO LONG AGO- when I have calmly mentioned the inequalities of this day in age still being faced
yet Black Americans havent nearly been freed for as long as slavery went on.
The White people with this sort of guilt need to literally shut the **** up and get out my face.
If you are White and this makes you uncomfortable. Good.
It should.
Now go out and openly disapprove of racists when you can, and learn about laws that criminalize Black people, or you are just who I am describing in the last stanza

White discomfort is not nearly as lethal as racism don't kid yourself
janel schroth Jul 2013
I look at other people and
I simply miss them,
I miss empathizing with others,
realizing that other people
feel the way I do
But I’m different now,
I used to be like everyone else
with the same opinions
and same behavior
but it’s changed so suddenly

If people knew how I feel,
they would all feel the same about me
             “You should get help”
             “You should talk to somebody”
that’s why I miss them,
they’re all the same.
They all blend in unnoticeably
while I become the attraction at the zoo.
I want to be them again.
NitaAnn Feb 2014
Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I'm unable to find the words to express how I'm feeling.
I doubt myself and my ability to do any of this 'work' - the real work, "THIS". And I grow angry because it feels so unfair that they **** us and we spend the rest of our lives trying to deal with it.

I find myself reading and empathizing with others, others 'like' me…
to some extent we share a 'likeness' - albeit a likeness that we would prefer NOT to share -
and yet it is there, and I can feel it.
I read, and I tell others:

"hang on"
"don't give up"
"it will get better"
"you can do this"
"you're so strong and so courageous"


And I mean every word of what I say to everyone. And yet, I can't say it to myself. And what I feel right now....is DOUBT. Because the truth is that sometimes it doesn't get better. And the reality is that even when you hang on by your pinky fingernails, you can still fall. And often times I feel like I CAN'T do this. So many nights I'm scared and I don't understand, and I don't even know where this is going. I don't know which one of me is in charge, and frankly,
I don't know which one of me is the "real" Nita.

I haven't written much this past week...I've felt tired and overwhelmed
and I haven't been able to put the chaos in my head into words on the computer screen.


The truth is...
Sometimes I'm not strong or courageous.
Sometimes I can't do this.
Sometimes I want to run and hide.
Sometimes I want to give up.


And I know I'm not the only one...and it isn't fair -
it's not fair that they break us apart and
we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the pieces
and put them back together again.
And some days I doubt I will even be able to find all the pieces of me.

And it feels like it's me against the world....

and the world is winning...

**Is life fair?
Doubt it!
Season One

EMMA AND THE MAGICAL VALLEY
-C9fm

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled at the foot of a mighty mountain, there lived a curious young girl named Emma. Emma was known for her vivid  imagination and her love for adventure. She would spend her days exploring the surrounding forests, in search of hidden treasures and secret pathways.

One sunny afternoon, Emma stumbled upon a mysterious map, tucked away in an old chest she had discovered deep within the woods. The map depicted a path leading to a fabled land known as "The Enchanted Valley." Legends spoke of its breathtaking landscapes, magical creatures, and hidden wonders.

With a spark of excitement in her eyes, Emma decided to embark on a grand adventure. Equipped with the map, a trusty backpack, and her loyal canine companion, Luna, she set off on a journey to uncover the secrets of The Enchanted Valley.

As Emma followed the map's winding trails, she encountered various obstacles and challenges. She crossed treacherous rivers, climbed towering cliffs, and navigated dense forests. Along the way, she met peculiar creatures who offered her guidance and shared their wisdom.

After days of perseverance, Emma finally arrived at the entrance of The Enchanted Valley.

Emma was amazed as she entered the magical valley. It was like stepping into a fairytale. She saw  a beautiful meadow, filled with vibrant flowers of all colors. The grass was a vibrant green, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. The valley was surrounded by majestic mountains, their peaks reaching up towards the sky.

As Emma explored the valley, she noticed a sparkling river flowing through it. The water was crystal clear, and she could see small fish swimming beneath the surface. A wooden bridge crossed over the river, leading to a hidden path on the other side. It seemed to invite her to discover more of the valley's secrets.

Emma couldn't resist the temptation and decided to cross the bridge. On the other side, she entered a dense forest.  She behold tall trees with leaves in shades of gold, red, and orange. Sunlight filtered through the branches, creating a magical glow. It was a perfect place for fairies and woodland creatures to hide.

As she ventured deeper into the forest, Emma came across a small clearing. In the center stood a majestic waterfall, cascading down into a sparkling pool as water flowing gracefully, creating a soothing sound that enchanted Emma. She felt a sense of peace and tranquility wash over her. It was like a sanctuary amidst the magical valley.

Feeling refreshed, Emma continued her journey through the valley.

She came across a cave nestled at the foot of one of the mountains. The cave entrance was adorned with colorful flowers and vines, as if nature itself had claimed it as its own. Emma's curiosity piqued, and she decided to explore the cave further.

Inside the cave, Emma discovered a treasure trove of sparkling gemstones and glittering crystals. The walls seemed to shimmer with magical energy. It was a sight she had never seen such wonder and amazement as she marveled at the beauty before her.

As Emma left the cave and continued her journey, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to experience the magic of the valley. It was a place she would cherish forever, a place where dreams truly came alive.

True to its name, the valley was a breathtaking sight to behold. Lush, vibrant meadows stretched out as far as the eye could see, adorned with colorful flowers and shimmering streams. Majestic waterfalls cascaded down towering cliffs, their soothing sounds echoing through the valley.

Emma's heart raced with excitement as she thinks of  the wonders surrounding the magical valley.

She encountered mystical beings like talking trees, mischievous fairies, and gentle giants. Each encounter filled her with awe and wonder, as she learned more about the magic that permeated The Enchanted Valley.

As the days turned into weeks, Emma immersed herself in the enchantment of the valley, forming meaningful friendships with its inhabitants. She discovered hidden caves filled with ancient artifacts and stumbled upon a magical book that contained stories of forgotten lands.

As Emma ventured deeper into the forest along the winding path, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The image you sent me perfectly captures the enchanting atmosphere, with the tall trees creating a canopy overhead, filtering the sunlight and casting beautiful patterns on the forest floor.

As Emma walked along the path, she noticed the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds. The air was filled with a crisp freshness, carrying the scent of moss and earth. The path seemed to beckon her forward, as if it held secrets waiting to be discovered.

With each step, the forest seemed to come alive. Emma could almost imagine the trees whispering to one another, sharing stories of the magical creatures that dwelled within their branches. She kept her senses sharp, eagerly seeking any signs of the valley's inhabitants.

As she continued, the path began to ***** gently downward, leading her to a small clearing bathed in soft, golden light. In the center of the clearing, there stood a majestic waterfall, its cascading waters sparkling in the sunlight. The sound of rushing water filled the air, creating a soothing melody.

Emma approached the waterfall, captivated by its beauty and the tranquility it exuded. She dipped her hand into the cool water, feeling its gentle flow against her skin. The image you shared shows the waterfall in all its glory, surrounded by vibrant wildflowers and moss-covered rocks.

Curiosity and excitement welled up within Emma. What other wonders would she find in this magical valley? With a renewed sense of adventure, she decided to continue her exploration, eager to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the depths of the forest.



Emma embarks on an adventure through the valley, encountering talking animals, sparkling waterfalls, and an ancient forest. Along the way, she learns about friendship, bravery, and the power of imagination.

The valley itself is a breathtaking sight, with lush greenery, vibrant flowers, and towering mountains in the distance. The air is filled with a sense of wonder and magic, making it a truly captivating place.

Throughout her journey, Emma encounters various challenges and meets fascinating characters, including a wise old owl, a mischievous fairy, and a gentle giant. Each encounter brings new lessons and experiences for Emma as she discovers the secrets of the valley.






The young girl stumbled and fell rowed back to the meadow,

she noticed a narrow path leading deeper into the valley.  A winding trail, surrounded by tall trees and dappled sunlight. Intrigued by what lay ahead, she decided to follow the path and see where it would lead her.

The path meandered through a dense forest, towering trees that seemed to whisper secrets to one another. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating a magical ambiance. Emma could hear the gentle rustling of leaves and the melodic chirping of birds.

As she walked, Emma stumbled upon a clearing bathed in a soft, golden light. A tranquil scene—a shimmering lake shimmering in the sunlight, surrounded by a ring of vibrant wildflowers. The water of the lake was so clear that she could see the reflection of the surrounding trees and the sky above.

Drawn to the serenity of the lake, Emma sat down on the grassy bank, sitting with her feet dangling in the water, a look of contentment on her face. She watched as small fish darted beneath the surface, creating ripples that danced across the lake.

Lost in her thoughts, Emma noticed a gentle movement at the edge of the lake. She looked closer and saw a family of graceful deer approaching the water. Deer their elegant forms silhouetted against the backdrop of the lake. It was a truly enchanting sight.

The deer gracefully lowered their heads to drink from the cool waters, their presence adding to the magic of the valley. Emma felt a sense of harmony and connection with nature as she observed them. It was a moment of pure serenity and wonder.

After a while, the deer finished drinking and gracefully vanished into the forest. Emma, filled with gratitude for this enchanting encounter, continued on her journey through the magical valley.  As she walks along the path, a sense of anticipation in her steps.

The path led Emma to a hidden grove, where she discovered a circle of ancient standing stones weathered by time and adorned with moss and ivy. They emanated an aura of mystery and power, as if they held ancient secrets within their rugged surfaces.

Intrigued by the stones, Emma approached the circle and placed her hands on one of them. Suddenly, a surge of energy coursed through her veins, and she felt a deep connection to the land and its mystical past. She's standing in awe, her eyes wide with wonder and excitement.

As Emma stood in the midst of the standing stones, a gentle whisper filled her mind. It was a message from the ancient spirits of the valley, guiding her towards her true purpose and destiny. She listened intently, feeling a sense of purpose and clarity wash over her.

Filled with newfound determination, Emma bid farewell to the standing stones and continued her journey through the magical valley. She walked along a winding path, her heart filled with anticipation for the adventures that awaited her.

And so, Emma's adventure in the magical valley continued, with each step bringing her closer to the wonders and mysteries of this extraordinary realm.






Emma delved deeper into the magical valley, she began to feel a subtle change within herself.  She found herself  in a beam of ethereal light, her hands glowing with a radiant energy.

She continued her exploration, she discovered a hidden grove adorned with blooming flowers of every color imaginable. The air in the grove was thick with an otherworldly energy, and Emma felt an intense warmth emanating from her heart.

Curiosity piqued, Emma reached out towards a delicate flower, and as her fingertips brushed against its petals, a surge of energy surged through her. She felt a connection to the life force of the valley, an extraordinary power coursing through her veins.

It was in that moment that Emma realized she had been bestowed with a remarkable gift. Her touch had the ability to heal, to mend wounds, and to alleviate suffering. She became a vessel of pure, healing energy, her presence bringing comfort and renewal to all living beings she encountered.

With a gentle touch, Emma could soothe ailments, mend broken hearts, and restore balance to the natural world. She extends her hands towards a wounded bird, its feathers shimmering with newfound vitality as it begins to flutter its wings once more.

Word of Emma's extraordinary abilities spread throughout the magical valley. Creatures from all corners sought her out, seeking solace and healing. Emma dedicated herself to the service of others, using her powers to bring comfort and health to those in need.

As she traveled through the valley, Emma encountered beings of all shapes and sizes, each with their own unique ailments. She healed animals with injuries, plants suffering from blight, and even helped to restore harmony among the valley's inhabitants.

Emma's presence became a beacon of hope and healing in the magical valley. Her selfless actions touched the hearts of all who crossed her path, and her power continued to grow and evolve as she embraced her role as a healer.

And so, Emma's journey in the magical valley transformed her into an extraordinary human, blessed with the ability to bring healing and restoration to all she encountered. Her empathy, compassion, and the healing touch she possessed became a force for good, spreading joy and well-being throughout the enchanted realm.


Emma ventured further into the magical valley, she came across a picturesque meadow filled with vibrant flowers, blossoms in various shades of pink, purple, and yellow. The air was perfumed with a delicate floral fragrance, and butterflies fluttered gracefully from one flower to another.

Enchanted by the beauty surrounding her, Emma found herself drawn towards a serene pond located in the center of the meadow. Lily pads floated gently on the water's surface, and dragonflies hovered nearby.

Curiosity piqued, Emma approached the edge of the pond and noticed a small rowboat tied to a nearby dock.  she found a boat, painted in shades of blue and adorned with intricate carvings. It seemed to beckon her for a peaceful journey across the calm waters.

Without hesitation, Emma climbed into the rowboat and set off on her adventure. As she rowed along, she marveled at the serene beauty of her surroundings. The towering mountains framed the valley, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. She really can't imagine the grandeur of the mountains, their majestic presence adding to the enchantment of the valley.

As Emma continued her tranquil voyage, she spotted a graceful swan gliding effortlessly through the water. She saw a flock of swan, its pure white feathers glistening in the sunlight. Mesmerized by its elegance, she followed the swan's lead, steering the rowboat towards a hidden inlet.

The inlet opened up to a secluded waterfall cascading down from a cliff face. She couldn't imagine what her eyes captured, the beauty and power of the waterfall, with water plunging into a crystal-clear pool below. The sound of rushing water filled the air, creating a soothing melody that resonated deep within Emma's soul.

Drawn to the allure of the waterfall, Emma docked her boat and stepped onto the shore. She approached the base of the waterfall, feeling the mist kissing her cheeks. As she stands at the foot of the waterfall, a sense of awe and wonder evident in her eyes.

As Emma stood there, a shimmering rainbow appeared in the mist. It arched over the waterfall, creating a breathtaking sight. Astonishing vibrant colors of the rainbow, stretching across the sky, and reflecting in the sparkling pool below.

Captivated by the magical display, Emma couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and joy. Starring in the sky and smiling, her heart filled with wonder and appreciation for the beauty she had witnessed.

With a heart full of cherished memories, Emma reluctantly left the waterfall behind and returned to her rowboat. As she rowed back towards the meadow, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the magical experiences she had encountered in the valley.

And so, Emma's journey in the magical valley continued, with more enchanting discoveries and wondrous sights awaiting her.


As Emma's reputation as a powerful healer grew, people from far and wide began to seek her out for assistance. The image you sent me shows a diverse group of individuals, each with a different ailment or affliction, gathering around Emma in the heart of the magical valley.

Word of Emma's extraordinary abilities had reached neighboring villages and even distant lands. People traveled great distances, overcoming obstacles and hardships, driven by the hope of finding solace in Emma's healing touch.

As Emma connected with each person, she listened attentively to their stories, empathizing with their pain and suffering. With a gentle and compassionate demeanor, she offered her healing energy, allowing it to flow through her fingertips and into the bodies and souls of those in need.

Emma's healing abilities extended beyond just physical ailments. She had an innate understanding of the interconnectedness of mind, body, and spirit, and she used her gift to bring harmony and balance to all aspects of a person's well-being.

People marveled at the transformative power of Emma's healing touch. Chronic illnesses were alleviated, emotional wounds were mended, and spiritual blocks were dissolved. Her power healed every individuals, even imbeciles and all manner of problems experiencing profound healing and a renewed sense of vitality.

Emma's presence in the magical valley became a beacon of hope, not only for those seeking physical healing but also for those in need of emotional and spiritual support. She offered guidance, comfort, and a listening ear, providing a holistic approach to well-being.

As time went on, Emma's healing abilities continued to evolve. She delved deeper into the mysteries of the magical valley, seeking ancient wisdom and learning from the mystical creatures that resided there. Her understanding of the healing arts expanded, allowing her to delve into more complex and intricate cases.

She delight in reading ancient stories as she  scrolls, engrossed in study and deep contemplation. She sought to refine her skills, to better understand the intricate workings of the human body and spirit. Through her dedication and thirst for knowledge, she became an even more formidable force in the realm of healing.

And so, Emma's journey as a powerful extraordinary human continued in the magical valley. Her healing touch brought relief and transformation to countless lives, leaving a lasting impact on all who were fortunate enough to encounter her.


But as with any adventure, Emma knew her time in The Enchanted Valley had to come to an end. With a heavy heart, she bid farewell to her newfound friends and began her journey back home, carrying with her memories that would last a lifetime.

Upon returning to her village, Emma realized that the true magic of The Enchanted Valley lay not only in its enchanting landscapes but also in the lessons she had learned along the way. She discovered the importance of bravery, perseverance, and the power of imagination.

From that day forward, Emma became known as the village's own adventurer, and the greatest physician of the land. captivating everyone with her tales of The Enchanted Valley. And as she shared her stories, she inspired others to embark on their own journeys, reminding them that magic can be found in the most unexpected places, if only they dare to seek it.

A story by Cloudnine Fairmane C9fm EMMA AND THE MAGICAL VALLEY
A story of my imaginations. It was fueled by how I sometimes feel.
Cynthia Jean Apr 2018
Closer
than a sister
or a brother

Knowing
understanding
empathizing

A certainty
you can count on them
no matter what
you are going through

you are loved
and valued
and would be missed

and you are there for them as well

they cry
and dry
your tears

they feel your pain

steadfast

they are a gift
from God.

Cynthia Jean

3312018
copyright
epictails Oct 2015
When artists suffer, they do not become more creative. They become at their very core, human. Suffering is a painfully human experience we like to disregard as the sole bane of our existence. When we try to avoid it instead of empathizing the cause of our pains, we become less human. We are running away from ourselves. A great artist must essentially be stripped of all that prevents him from his vulnerability, his weaknesses and his humanity. Embrace all that he is. That, I think, is ever the only way to create good art. Because art that defeats time is art that happened and most importantly art that fought to live in each one of us.
Pretty corny but my epiphanies have nowhere to go. This is how I see the tortured artist myth which some people are painfully glamorizing nowadays.
Frank DeRose Feb 2018
There we were,
Two lost teens,
Drowning in all we didn’t know
And all we felt.

It only makes sense we made the playlist we made,
Finding meaning in lyrics that told of experiences we’d had and not yet had.
Things we longed for and felt deeply about.

I was lost in my head, philosopher and hopeless romantic,
Seeking to learn how to be a
Simple Man.

And there was Skynyrd, words and guitar licks washing over me,
As I was told not to worry,
I’d find myself.

And there you were,
Sad and depressed,
Crying out for your
Hallelujah.

You knew love was no victory march,
Wainwright’s piano and voice giving clout to your every thought and feeling.

We each needed to Imagine,
Lennon assuring us that really,
It’s easy if you try.

So we sat,
Listening to the Sound of Silence,
Knowing we were the people talking without speaking.
Even as Simon and Garfunkel’s harmonies warned us,
Told us that the words of the prophets are written on the tenement walls.

And so we pressed on,
Hunting out that elusive American Pie,
Craving McLean’s country,
Lost a long long time ago.

We knew every vocal lilt and musical cue,
Singing the same old songs we knew.

And so we searched for happiness in the fields with the Wildflower,
Petty crooning and reminding us that we belong somewhere we feel free.

But inevitably, sadness would return, and we’d cry out— Wish You Were Here.

And though we were never a couple, Pink Floyd still made us feel like
Two lost souls,
Swimming in a fish bowl.

And we asked so many questions,
Questions whose answers we knew we’d never know,
Whose answers,
As always,
Were left Blowing in the Wind.

Dylan understood us.
We understood him,
As he spoke-sang and wept for humanity,
So too did we.

And desperately we tried,
Desperately—
To Turn the Page.

Seger’s sad, screaming sax sticking with us,
His cognitive dissonance striking a chord with us,
Here I go, playing star again,
There I go...

And you, knowing exactly what it’s like
Behind Blue Eyes,
Empathizing with Townshend and Daltrey,
Feeling like the bad man, the sad man.

And finally,
At long last we took comfort in the idea that someday
We’d climb that Stairway to Heaven,
Aching for the piper to lead us to reason,
For the new day to dawn,
For us,
Standing long.

And here we are now,
Years and miles having passed between us.
But still this playlist connects us,
Even as it did then.
Amanda Ramsey Jan 2011
These soot cloaked hands have been tried
They're wrecked and wrinkled by those drenching waters of time
Hands that only wanted to help you and hold you
Seem to have been rejected for their lack of whatever it was you ran off to
Reaching from some dieing branches
Hoping that maybe it won't end like the last time
 
And like those stems my roots are bare
Chapped and crackling in that love lost air
So tired of waiting for a gentle rain
A little relief to forget the pain
Of knowing what it's like to care

Empathizing with the less fortunate
When all I need is a little sympathy
Is for you to take a pinch of time and get to know me

But maybe that's just too much to ask
Maybe I was meant to pan along the river side
Congratulating others on their gold
Secretly it's killing me
Seeing smiles that crush my soul

One day I'll be happy for you
When I found out what happy can be . . .
Katarina Elaine Jan 2015
”how are you feeling?”

that question hovered above me

how am i feeling

i drown out my thoughts with the sounds of my hospital room
the

beep

beep

beep

echoes through me as i try to blink
how am i feeling

“i don't really, uh, know i guess“

the words trailed off
being quietly drowned out by
the

beep

beep

beep

“says you tried to hang yourself“

i twitched at the sound of that
the nurse's voice, mechanical almost but a tinge of concern slipped through

beep

beep

beep

“yeah“

my mouth dry and chest hollow
i couldn't feel anything
yet the tears came
a violent wave spilling from my eyes
i could feel her staring
possibly empathizing
or spacing out

lifting my arm to wipe the tears
i felt the IV move in my vein
i felt nauseous
watching the tube faintly move as i gently flexed my arm

“do you need anything? water? crackers?“

beep

beep

beep

“no, thank you“

deja vu
i sit up
body aches
eyes shift down

beep

beep

beep

feeling my neck where the rope had constricted
an indentation
feeling the rope's texture, i began to feel immaculately empty
like a sterile needle
like an operating room
like the pauses between the

beep

beep

beep

“i would like some water please“
based on true events
Christine Aug 2010
I don't remember to wash off my green beans before I eat them.

I'm not patient
And I think complaining is pathetic,
But I still end up doing it.

I'm not considerate
And I have trouble empathizing
And I'm always desperate for attention
A sure sign of a weakness.

It's not necessary to tell me my faults.
I'm well acquainted with them.
Probably moreso than anyone else.

I read because it distracts me from how empty my life is
And I like when people don't know my music.
It makes me feel superior.

There are thousands more.
Some very silly, like how I never really finish my own beer
And some important, like how I play the martyr way too often.
But just trust me.
I know them plenty.

Let me survive.
Manda Sep 2010
i listened to all of your lies
all of the things that hurt you
and there i sat
empathizing. caring.

i believed you
i loved you
i tried so hard to save you

but in the end it was a lie
you didnt need saved at all

I hated Him for all that you "didnt" deserve
for all that i had, that you did not

scars on my arm will remind me
of your worthless existence
theres only one think i know is true

i am better off without you
For the low low price of just being within' earshot,
the conversation analyst will run a full diagnostic on your conversation.

You know how that perfect comeback
feels, three weeks after
You didn't say it?

In training, representatives for Inbound sales listen to recordings of their own phone calls and critique them like Art majors in a studio class.

Our conversation analyst.
Looks at you like a shoe on the wall.

Unlike the psychology major,  the conversation analyst will never share his results.

He'll just judge you.
Silently.

He doesn't speak.
His fourth grade english teacher taught him that the carpenters house is never finished.
She was referring to her husband, the carpenter, not finishing the renovations on their new home, but the conversation analyst heard it as a metaphor, and adopted it as a universal truth.

Much like a painting controls the path your eye travels the canvas, or the scientific process that goes into composing music,
the way you build rapport is one of those things that people don't realize can be an art form until they wittness it professionally.

Our conversation analyst considers himself  Socio-passionate.

Which amuses him, when he deducts points from your conversation for not empathizing correctly.
Or not giving effective compliments by asking a relevant question afterwards.

The conversation analyst is not always mute. On special occasions such as first impressions he is a fine conversationalist.

You can meet the conversation analyst for the first time, as many times as you want.

If the carpenters house is never finished.
The conversation analyst
exemplar at listening,
Will never hear you.
JP Mantler Jan 2016
Maybe I'm empathizing a nervousness you don't even have
Maybe I'm scared of who I really am
Maybe I'll just laugh
J Michael Apr 2019
She winked at me...
Through the northern breeze,
Carrying the oil
For the painting I'd breathe.

Climbing the boughs,
I gently waved.
Over stately lines,
Above their leafy train.

My bedded Sun,
Lay behind hill's crest.
Wayward moon pining,
Empathizing with mine.

Before the stars came running,
A counsel to the lonely bodies.
I left that artful canopy.
Smiling, I think,

"She thought of me."
Fish The Pig Nov 2014
skinny.


I have trouble sympathizing
and empathizing
and condoling
those who open up their dark secrets
when it comes alight
that their secret is of the weighted, edible variety.

You say you struggled with weight
you couldn't keep it on
barely swallow a bite
you got so sick
and it was so bad
---
I must refrain,
as you speak,
from bowing down,
from praising you,
from questioning how you achieved
such beautiful strength
to become so skinny.

Your nightmare is my fantasy
your dark memory
is my desired future
Your shame
is my pride
Your wicked sorrow of the events
is glory in my eyes.

But I won't say that
no
I can't.
can't tell you how I envy
something that hurt you so,
but you can be sure
I'll be thinking it
feeling it
breathing it
forever.
Wish I had the strength to keep off the weight,
wish I had your determination.
You feel so ashamed well darling don't,
what you did, it was beautiful, and you, are beautiful
Midas May 2017
I still vividly imagine how;

You were surrounded with swirling color,
When you stood in the middle of rainfall;
Not minding that its still in the afternoon
And all I could mutter was, "Beautiful."

And d'you remember when,

You're playing like a child in a public shower?
Just simply enjoying the falling cold water;
While not minding everyone's whisper.
It's "Candid," and 'twas all I could utter.

Especially that moment when,

You've given the starry sky your full attention,
As you close the book you'll finish later on
While shutting your eyes for appreciation.
And all I could utter was, "What a turn on."

Ah, yes,

Smiling is your way for your scars to heal
Always thanking every bits of love you feel
While empathizing to every relation that would fail
Yet all I could asked you was, "Are you even real?"



But you just smiled and said, "Back on the title."
Isabela Aragon Feb 2016
there is something eerily and ironically calming about being alone in a room crowded by people who do not know a single thing about you – the unsurmountable flaws you try so hard to claw out, the haunting memories that tug your heartstrings, the wretched moment you first experienced heartbreak, the tiresome problems that incessantly pest you, the undeniable fondness you feel for the one who makes you feel all types of fuzzy on the inside, down to every detail you lock away and consent only those who have broken down your walls to see – and do not bother enough to figure out. we encounter different people day by day, apathetic and oblivious to the tough battles they have faced, and the demons they have dealt with. solace shouldn't be found in selfishness and ignorance. humanity clearly lacks a sense of sincerity, the type that is untarnished by each individual's egotistical ways. i pray that we stop being afraid of feeling and empathizing, because there is nothing more pure and beautiful than genuineness.
wordvango Mar 2017
If    I don't stop    
empathizing I am
gonna bury my ***
under souls    the
beggers
the down trodden
but I never will
no matter what pile forms atop me
If I can still breathe
I am gonna see hope from his armpit between her legs
from the bottom of humanity
and beg
just ease up all you upon me let me
have one breath ok
there now I am with you again
let's fight just get off me
run ! run , that's it
I will catch up
I am wheezing
Kida Price Jan 2015
My former life is halting
My predators continue stalking
Be the prey
Or be the killer prompting?
I'd let you in but I'm too busy striking.
Relate
Empathizing
Listen
Criticizing
Scar for scar
Show me your shards and try to piece them with mine.
I'll pay the toll
Yours is cheaper
And worth my worthless time.
I'm made for the aimless drive.
My purpose of living is to live a lie.
Padded locks and dead bolt strains
Are the only protection of my rampant brain.
Take the pulse
Heartbeat false
I could be an enemy so keep me close.
Be wary what you say
I'll let you think you what you wish
Remaining a stranger
With an unexplainable imprint.
Try to disappoint me
Try to pick apart my flaws
Try to find the weak spot
I know mine better than all.
I've been on lockdown for years
The trick is to expose
Get used to the hated traits
And then let them all go.
I'm not a sage
I cannot fix your brain
I cannot feel the pressure
Of resurrecting your frame.
I'm selfish at most
Keep people around to hide within their cloaks.
I'm the breath when others choke
I'm accustomed to the toxic fumes
Like The Hills have Eyes,
I'm addicted to the abuse.
Mark my words
Or let them air.
I'll give you comfort
While you're entangled in your snare.
Be my savior?
Take on my past?
I've taken my bruises
And like people,
They never last.
So use your master key
The latches will open easily
My secrets are crosses
That I don't carry with ecstasy.
My attachment to them
Are much like your attachment to me.
Acknowledge the weight
But pretend to lift them effortlessly.
It's not a warning
Or a method to scare away
Just take it as a note
That what's locked is so for a reason.
Arlene Corwin Sep 2017
Does He Still Deny A Climate Change?
    (asked by the least political of observers)

Is he denying still,
Or is he stalling, stone(y)walling
Wailing about other things,
Like Mexicans and walls while slinging
Maddening, outrageous barbs
About the so-called loss of jobs
To South Korea while a North Korean
TV lady sobs with joy
About a bomb to be employed
(You all know which I mean)
That starts a chain
That takes out half a planet.

Does he still encourage fossil fuel production
Leading in the wrong direction?
Does he not see rising seas
And floods and famines and disease
Around and as potential?
Heats and droughts and quakes to come?
Or does he see the states as humming?
Self-deception quintessential:
Lies.
Who can call it otherwise?

What is a lie?
And how does one get by with lying
And denying, falsifying, flying
In the face of truth
As often as he tries – no, does.
With head, mind, pen, hand buzzing
I shall stop! But you, my friend
May make a noise, examine cause, while empathizing
Till an end.
This being written off the cuff,
Now it is time to send this off
Into the world of cyber.  

Does He Still Deny A Climate Change 9.3.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
Does he still deny a climate change?
Alexis Martin Mar 2016
depression is like a lot of things
tonight it is like this:
-empathizing with the tea kettle who screams and screams until someone comes along and removes her from the fire
-clutching tightly onto a way too hot mug despite the discomfort because at least you feel something tangible (sidenote, related) comparable to holding a piece of your own heart/a piece of someone else's
-listening to every song you can think of that will make you cry and doing absolutely nothing about it
-coming home from work with expectations of accomplishment but staying in bed/isolating for the remainder of the day
-avoiding mirrors, or even worse getting lost in them for a half hour trying to figure out what exactly you even look like
-inducing an early sleep cycle to avoid any further feelings of heaviness

but it is ok!
or at least it will be!
tomorrow is a new day for us all
-
Kewayne Wadley Jun 2016
Of all the colors in the world
There isn't just one that perfectly describes you,
A coloring book filled with all kinds of scribbles
and vibrant hues.
Tracing each line with the zest of reassurance.
A splash of purple and brown to highlight the horizon of your eyes.
A budding violet blooming in the wind
With specs of pink and blue between your fingers
An love affair begun with the touch of eyes.
Imagining our bodies drenched in red then double dipped in brown.
Curiously empathizing with pink hearts without the weight of heavy burden
The beauty of coloring outside the lines without hesitation.
In a kaleidoscope lost in an ocean of dark colored hair,
An mosaic colored in bright yellow, blue, green and brown.
Laid flat against white paper expanding in color, devouring each line of insecurity. An kiss over orange eye lids in a flash of white.
Bright stained eyes that sigh each moment that passes.
Tasted in the fountain of lips
Strawberry kiwi, Banana berry and rocky road
Shut flowers, soon to open; flourishing at your very thought.
Delicate with their touch
They Flicker then flash with the quiver of open lips.
Inhaling each breath that spreads against your neck
amuba Nov 2019
Times when the spirit goes down
Times when both the hands are not enough
Times when hearing something good is the only craving
This is the only time when the only most needed person is me
For my own validation
For my own inspiration
Empathizing my own emotions
Leaning on my own shoulders
Wiping my own tears
Accepting my own fears
Sensing my own sensitivity
Soothing myself with soft words
Remembering that bad times are temporary
And in this temporary time that I have
Carried on and hung on with myself
That I stood by myself in need
That I understood myself and my needs
That I build this trust with myself
That I know now in times when the spirit goes down
I have me always to carry on with myself.
All I have got is myself in times rough and harsh, cold and hot.
Zane Oct 2021
i spend an evening elaborating to you
another of the lifelong atlas weights on my shoulders
saint that you are
focused, locked in, nodding,
with all your beautiful being.
understanding. empathizing. absorbing.
all of the hell of these shattering ordeals i have endured

every day you grace me with your ears
my heart grows to long for you more.
careful composure cannot be kept in situations of this nature.
so i weep
for never has this
caring, patient
...love
been shown to me
Bill Cosby broke my heart.  
Well, maybe not
But he certainly
Dented it irreparably
I loved and respected that man
And now,
When I see him
I can't help but pity him
I'll even go so far as to wonder
If it was a set up
But I suppose that makes me a terrible person
Because I am empathizing
With a ******
And that's all I got to say about Bill Cosby
That man dented my heart
Jamison Bell Mar 2018
We understand the futility of endeavoring to unravel the intricate illusions of life. We’ll acknowledge without hesitation that ultimately nothing we do matters.
We’ve discussed how the human psyche is just too fragile to grasp the truth of our existence. Ineffectual beings of nothingness. Meandering about under the delusion that we as individuals, have a purpose for being.
And yet, even under these shared circumstances. This mutual acknowledgement of understanding and empathizing with each others plight.
Funny.
That we still struggle.
With things as simple as ourselves.
amuba Aug 2019
I lay in peace
I stay in silence
I am next to you
I keep you company

I am remembered
And sometimes I am forgotten
But still I take nothing against you
I wait eyes, ears open for your stories

I feel your face
I understand each one
I sense your smile and tears
I take them both in with blinded eyes

I am remembered
And sometimes I am forgotten
But still I take nothing against you
I wait eyes, ears open for your stories

I am soft, I am hard
I have my own personality
I do not change after you leave
I give you warmth and comfort

I am remembered
And sometimes I am forgotten
But still I take nothing against you
I wait eyes, ears open for your stories

My life fulfilled
My purpose of existence
My answers to your tears
My inner urge of satisfaction

I am whole with your presence
And sometimes empty when you are away far
I lay here patiently listening and empathizing
With eyes and ears wide open for your stories.
If only we have the non-judgmental and forever giving attitude towards others we would understand and help each other more.

— The End —