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"ethers" poems
In the castle of my smile All lovely words are imprisoned in stone This place I am king that stretches a mile My tongue its gilded throne In the castle of my smile,                 I spy through its bars of milky white The silky wonderful love of my life  Walk Eden's paradise of light. In the castle of my smile,                 I weave a golden rope of magic letters, Gluing jointed lyrics with praise filled ethers Ignoring the splinters of criticism  for better. My means of escape down the walls to you.
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Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
In the Castle of my smile
my mother always used to stress the importance of opening my mirrored closet doors at night, so they wouldn't reflect my night- mares back at                  me; "it's too much sadness for sleeping." but i never listened, feng shui being another silly pastime or science fit for housewives -- how wrong i was with the stars, perhaps i am again mistaken. maybe if i had just kept those **** doors open annually, these putrid thoughts of mine would escape into the ethers and fade into non- existence instead of polluting my mind and dying themselves. listen to your mothers. nothing good can come of doing otherwise.
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Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
housewife sciences
Revival of a revolutionary spirit What I represent? The Motherland of wisdom BLACK genesis Check the pyramids My heredity IS God-man manifest in the physical, And astral and mental Been mastered every plane of existence Whole civilizations who understood the Science of Living Tens of thousands of years before any 'westernized thinking' An enlightened people Way before colonialism How you gon bring democracy (now capitalism in disguise), To Afrika where it was invented? And dress ya pawns as 'appointed' leaders Devil oppressors Erased our culture, history, and identity Spiritual genocide by 'Willie Lynching' Karmically tied to these modern times I gotz to watch my temper Lost ONE, Who found refuge in the Buddha to be most skillful But what happened to my people? I just wona know My whole life, I was ashamed of being BLACK and didn't know it Guess it was sub-compartmental But through practice with experience Of accumulated virtue I shed dem old ethers And broke me down Psychological brick by brick and rebuilt me Na I'm ready for war
0
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 5:00 PM UTC
REBEL TALK PT.2
In dreams Allowing oneself To be Within Without interruption, Without distraction, Without aberration, Without confusion, Is to dance among with stars of space Void of the fear of the death. In dreams Swimming among the Stellar ethers Of interplanetary mysteries, We see all that Was, All that can be, But not, All that will be. Here we theorize Or potentiality Floating in the first and last Of Spaces. But, Because of fear, We see such places as Death. The deepest oceans Hold monsters beyond imagination. The darkest caves Pits of fall jagged, wet, and sharp. The dankest of houses Holds pasts too painful to see. Because of the fear of Death We hold ourselves back From being free. A light in the dark Is but A comfort. Trust oneself. See through the dimness. Let go. All angels who have been And are and will be Have walked the dark road, Washed in light when they arrive. Are they they? Are we we? Am I you and you me? Can it be That we are the same, Just molds of longitudinal and longitudinal Circumstance? Close your eyes and become What you see. Feel the cool water brush Under your fingertips. Above, the clouds break. A shot of light. Presence of a million souls unite. We have been. We are. Do not let The Fear of Death Tell us We Will Not Be.
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
Walking the Dark Path to Light
~ a crystal cradle slowly falls, from an indigo sky; coyote’s distant howl, blends his primal song, with the whoot, whoot of the owl; desert minstrels, keeping beat, with cricket and cicada’s chorus. above, a dark horse grazes, in a field of ancient stars; and below, encroaching mists gather in the waving grasses, crouching... waiting to devour, all who venture near. the endless whisperings, of the brook, stream of ageless waters, tell of tales of distant ice and snow, far above these thirsty plains. aurora’s blend their magic, their enchanting flame, dancing in the rising ethers; mesmerizing sleepy eyes, a shepherdess is lulled away; transported by her distant dreams. dawn’s approach she fails to hear, ’til it's much too late; when songbirds of the desert, now seated in this orchestra, sing her sleeping soul awake. ~ *post script. watching the set of a cradle moon on a late night return from the rolling hills of Central Oregon’s high desert last month prompts just enough lines to keep these images alive, until i am able to give them complete thought and words this morning.  aside from fatigue, i love driving at night.  197’s winding crossing down to the Deschutes at Maupin and then it's descent into The Dalles beside a wide Columbia; these, and my longing to be home beside my wife, keep me from sleep driving, alone with my thoughts and imagination.  though rare to Oregon, there are times of year when the aurora borealis pushes its way far enough south to be viewed on moonless nights.*
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC
eternal song
~ a crystal cradle slowly falls, from an indigo sky; coyote’s distant howl, blends his primal song, with the whoot, whoot of the owl; desert minstrels, keeping beat, with cricket and cicada’s chorus. above, a dark horse grazes, in a field of ancient stars; and below, encroaching mists gather in the waving grasses, crouching... waiting to devour, all who venture near. the endless whisperings, of the brook, stream of ageless waters, tell of tales of distant ice and snow, far above these thirsty plains. aurora’s blend their magic, their enchanting flame, dancing in the rising ethers; mesmerizing sleepy eyes, a shepherdess is lulled away; transported by her distant dreams. dawn’s approach she fails to hear, ’til it's much too late; when songbirds of the desert, now seated in this orchestra, sing her sleeping soul awake. ~ *post script. watching the set of a cradle moon on a late night return from the rolling hills of Central Oregon’s high desert last month prompts just enough lines to keep these images alive, until i am able to give them complete thought and words this morning.  aside from fatigue, i love driving at night.  197’s winding crossing down to the Deschutes at Maupin and then it's descent into The Dalles beside a wide Columbia; these, and my longing to be home beside my wife, keep me from sleep driving, alone with my thoughts and imagination.  though rare to Oregon, there are times of year when the aurora borealis pushes its way far enough south to be viewed on moonless nights.*
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33
*the man of light knows darkness all to well he possess sacred knowledge of source a living experience with in radiant and self effulgent he knows all is permitted in the acculturated labyrinths of mind rooted in bias and incalculable distortions a hell house ride constructed of warbled mirrors Leprechauns gold an abusement park of crepuscular subconscious ethers and concertized form on shape shifting sands creativity gone mad where time undoes all its weary inhabitants worn they are the color of sleep attaining misguidance oh the vacuous business of guided meditations through azure skies and verdant fields while the certified uninitiated whisper their pale voices against sonorous winds as if they could lever boulders with broken twigs stone churches gothic crosses temples of man monoliths to the imaginary fantastical man god re-pleat with beard and cock....how quaint adulations and prostrations to there man made deity through myth that binds group think other directed un-individuated individuals like tribal ants a world of shattered light a white knuckle ride on a spinning mud ball yet who knows the secret of the inner light the illuminated door the portal through which Scottie will really beam you up The man of the mystic light in a darkened freakish world is he not an inconvenience like a mentor to the deaf dumb and blind he is rarely recognized almost never believed the light is not a metaphor the source that emanates all although formless and self effulgent it is not a religion yet all abide with in it in the dark funnel of conceit man turns everything into a noun as if naming is claiming when what he seeks is beyond for it is a great dimension of another order konx om pax light in extension*
0
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
Konx Om Pax
*the man of light knows darkness all to well he possess sacred knowledge of source a living experience with in radiant and self effulgent he knows all is permitted in the acculturated labyrinths of mind rooted in bias and incalculable distortions a hell house ride constructed of warbled mirrors Leprechauns gold an abusement park of crepuscular subconscious ethers and concertized form on shape shifting sands creativity gone mad where time undoes all its weary inhabitants worn they are the color of sleep attaining misguidance oh the vacuous business of guided meditations through azure skies and verdant fields while the certified uninitiated whisper their pale voices against sonorous winds as if they could lever boulders with broken twigs stone churches gothic crosses temples of man monoliths to the imaginary fantastical man god re-pleat with beard and cock....how quaint adulations and prostrations to there man made deity through myth that binds group think other directed un-individuated individuals like tribal ants a world of shattered light a white knuckle ride on a spinning mud ball yet who knows the secret of the inner light the illuminated door the portal through which Scottie will really beam you up The man of the mystic light in a darkened freakish world is he not an inconvenience like a mentor to the deaf dumb and blind he is rarely recognized almost never believed the light is not a metaphor the source that emanates all although formless and self effulgent it is not a religion yet all abide with in it in the dark funnel of conceit man turns everything into a noun as if naming is claiming when what he seeks is beyond for it is a great dimension of another order konx om pax light in extension*
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69
Perched atop, mighty, serene and calm glistening midst its suns with skies the tinge of aqua At center of creation, was the glorious kingdom of Minerva With nervous steps that echoed under imagined eyes that judged On my own, yet pulled and owned like sunflower midst thousand suns, the divine palace I entered Countless royal birds, sat in quiet melodious trance Seeking the seeker, with folded wings, of colossal rich expanse Each had a name, and with each I flew With Plato to meadows of morality, With Kant to the river of reason, With Emerson to emerald waters With Socrates to rhetoric ethers With Vivekanada to dunes of duty With Dostoyevsky to tragic beauty Each flew me to their heaven, at different times of the night Closer to light, closer to heaven I felt, closer than I ever might Neither wine nor its colors Neither Venus nor her flowers Shall ever match, the soaring journey at dusk tearing across, skies the tinge of aqua lost in timeless views, of the glorious kingdom of Minerva
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Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
Books
Not a biological accident, I breathe with purpose sipping in the ethers and spirits chakras and energies smoke and incense. I am no fool, only inexperienced, and really, can you fault the naive? We don't know what we're missing, let alone can feel the gaping emptiness that the aware suffer to know, and sometimes I rather enjoy being utterly incoherent and oblivious of reality. Not dumb just numb. I do not require much, only sunlight, oxygen, dirt and ofcourse guilty pleasures chocolate fashion magazines shirtless rugby players. I am no cosmic miracle only a human who deserves respect and decency, a mix of my mamma and my dad and a bottle of Merlot shaken and popped in an Easy Bake Oven I am just a little old me and a little old maid and I can only learn to accept such facts.
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May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 6:42 PM UTC
Me-Harmony
Moss and moon-green Spring fully bloomed, the dogwood trees our breath mingles ever in the ethers a place where sweet the soul will dwell and shall not die nor wither Crocus flowered violet grass scented sweet pink hyacinth yellow primrose metamorphosis inhale we drink and can never think only lose ourselves deep in fragrant amnesia Until beyond this meadow when day recedes into night and the scarlet sky of purple blues is swallowed once more by the molten, pearl moon
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Under a Springtime Sky
i leave your name floating in the ethers unless i see you then its shouted you couldnt imagine the life of my muse her hair whips me atop levels of down cherished interminglings clasped hands SHE is the one that inspires me not you it wasnt about you this time or ever your delirium must be setting in again if it was about you ... though it never would be if it WAS about you i would paint your picture just as it should caricature style with sunglasses you dont need and a bow-tie for a hair pin something that screams "HEY ... are those more lighters..." if i was writing about you this would be differently titled something more .... just different
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
it wasnt about you
Nothing broke my heart quite like that time I read what you wrote to her. It was from two years ago, but it still managed to strike quick like a bullet, even though the barrel was dusty. If history repeats itself, then I'm the same lips you craved on different person. You said so yourself. You can't breath new life into old love. Your lungs will collapse before hers start. You've never been good with words, but I didn't know you weren't good with laundry. Your words were still wet with her tears before you gave them to me. You should have left them on the line a bit longer. Maybe the lye of their syllables wouldn't burn my face when I try to bury it in your shirt. Do you realize what you say when you scream *I ******* love you* from your rooftop? Who's ears will they reach first, hers or mine? Because where I hear a promise, she hears and echo as bitter as the wind on that rooftop. That's why my hips curve in all the question marks I could never ask you. In two years, will you mail someone else the screams from your piece of sky? Will your heart still beat in time to that ******* song that you always play when we're in your car? I'm tired of seeing blood under my fingernails because metaphors and ethers and ink marks can't stitch you up fast enough. You need patience, but all I can give you are poems about winter, and the spring grasses that follow, no matter what. You need guidance, but I give you comparisons of how the moon moves the sea, but gets jealous when she kisses the shore. You need love, but I offer you poems that flow like water and taste like someone else's mouth. My river songs can't fill the canyons she's left in you.
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Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
It is Written
Nothing broke my heart quite like that time I read what you wrote to her. It was from two years ago, but it still managed to strike quick like a bullet, even though the barrel was dusty. If history repeats itself, then I'm the same lips you craved on different person. You said so yourself. You can't breath new life into old love. Your lungs will collapse before hers start. You've never been good with words, but I didn't know you weren't good with laundry. Your words were still wet with her tears before you gave them to me. You should have left them on the line a bit longer. Maybe the lye of their syllables wouldn't burn my face when I try to bury it in your shirt. Do you realize what you say when you scream *I ******* love you* from your rooftop? Who's ears will they reach first, hers or mine? Because where I hear a promise, she hears and echo as bitter as the wind on that rooftop. That's why my hips curve in all the question marks I could never ask you. In two years, will you mail someone else the screams from your piece of sky? Will your heart still beat in time to that ******* song that you always play when we're in your car? I'm tired of seeing blood under my fingernails because metaphors and ethers and ink marks can't stitch you up fast enough. You need patience, but all I can give you are poems about winter, and the spring grasses that follow, no matter what. You need guidance, but I give you comparisons of how the moon moves the sea, but gets jealous when she kisses the shore. You need love, but I offer you poems that flow like water and taste like someone else's mouth. My river songs can't fill the canyons she's left in you.
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17
Soma a pharmaceutical usurpation some subjunctive psychedelic noxious decoction of the capital  kind wrought by unoriginality a conjuring elixir to ignite the  material  mind Maya will have you if you don't recognize behind appearances is always a disguise beyond the superficial over what eyes can surveil   may entitle you to what is to be entailed Yuga beyond the ages beyond the sages epochs and eras multiplied to infinity expecting some recourse exponential beyond sanity gauges of the cyclical planetary Akasha ubiquitous aether all pervading all invading revelations' recordings substratum of then and now rife marshaler of how Ishwara great atman ultimate overseer transcending all time cosmic conscience consciousness sublime beyond everything sight unseen Samadhi reign over me the be all and end all of life's raisons d'être superconsciousness enlightenments bestowal of divine grace and mercy Gunas by knowledge of these moods this will allow you ambrosia of all roads in your journey ahead to navigate solely without flag or fail through equipoise unassailed Ahimsa through this your lips can no longer trespass over your welfare or the welfare of any other true liberation from human inebriation true love for one another Siddhis they will misunderstand you not being like the same eschewing commonality for the perfected mindscape a narrowed perspective to focus more completely upon the rarest of views Om what can be said of this holiest sound that permeates all ethers the skies and the grounds Brahman of this plane and all that surrounds now perish all that confounds
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Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
East Meets West in the Infinity of Eighths
Soma a pharmaceutical usurpation some subjunctive psychedelic noxious decoction of the capital  kind wrought by unoriginality a conjuring elixir to ignite the  material  mind Maya will have you if you don't recognize behind appearances is always a disguise beyond the superficial over what eyes can surveil   may entitle you to what is to be entailed Yuga beyond the ages beyond the sages epochs and eras multiplied to infinity expecting some recourse exponential beyond sanity gauges of the cyclical planetary Akasha ubiquitous aether all pervading all invading revelations' recordings substratum of then and now rife marshaler of how Ishwara great atman ultimate overseer transcending all time cosmic conscience consciousness sublime beyond everything sight unseen Samadhi reign over me the be all and end all of life's raisons d'être superconsciousness enlightenments bestowal of divine grace and mercy Gunas by knowledge of these moods this will allow you ambrosia of all roads in your journey ahead to navigate solely without flag or fail through equipoise unassailed Ahimsa through this your lips can no longer trespass over your welfare or the welfare of any other true liberation from human inebriation true love for one another Siddhis they will misunderstand you not being like the same eschewing commonality for the perfected mindscape a narrowed perspective to focus more completely upon the rarest of views Om what can be said of this holiest sound that permeates all ethers the skies and the grounds Brahman of this plane and all that surrounds now perish all that confounds
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81
here, time is a truck with waxed wheels. but it keeps pacing, keeps paving the path to destruction; in dreams, I pluck myself from its sheath, let it sweep over me like a tide; on the ground, I gather my garments, as stones and seashells, slip into their ethers, where eternity waits. here, pyramids don’t converge as they taper; they tunnel like a lair that has lost its lucidity & I’m wandering within their walls, clueless, clouded—a captive child eager to escape into enlightenment, or another dream, where bliss befalls. this is a paper-dream gobbling reality—down to its bone, bruised bare & bleeding.
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Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC
take me where dreams devour reality
*heres your chance to become a supreme being a dot in a circle the point of imminent transcendence the glitter of endless seas a secure position and a good job if you can get it first assignment develop a sense of place hollow yourself out to situate your creation mix the ethers up within your infinity of self like witches mix a cauldron good work* GOD HOLY HOLY HOLY *now with the spirituous mist populate your creation from the astral* i like to be called YAHWEH okay GOD *lets not get stuck you can easily afford not to be so small minded whats with caring what your called you and your multiple titular names wow lots a pretty beings dreamboats i'd say like a bunch of colored balloons pro-creative mmmmm very good so far i really appreciate that part* HOLY HOLY HOLY next assignment POWER OVER NATURE *figure out a way to sustain and perpetuate your creatures* I AM WHO I AM *what ever you say can we move on now? whats with all the disease mental problems fear hostility and famine? be a  good* GOD *for gods sake and amp up the happiness please they are like bunch of sick cats down there* NOT A LEAF FALLS WITHOUT MY WILL ooooo noooooo !!!!! *there not suppose to **** and eat each other what the **** are you thinking are you stupid* OH HOLY ONE THE UNKNOWN and THE UNKNOWABLE *stop with the smog of hell your creatures live in terror living only to be destroyed go sit in the corner facing the wall yes the dunce cap too your a bad* GOD *a ***** we will have to call your parents for retribution* HOLY HOLY HOLY
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May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
GOD SCHOOL
*heres your chance to become a supreme being a dot in a circle the point of imminent transcendence the glitter of endless seas a secure position and a good job if you can get it first assignment develop a sense of place hollow yourself out to situate your creation mix the ethers up within your infinity of self like witches mix a cauldron good work* GOD HOLY HOLY HOLY *now with the spirituous mist populate your creation from the astral* i like to be called YAHWEH okay GOD *lets not get stuck you can easily afford not to be so small minded whats with caring what your called you and your multiple titular names wow lots a pretty beings dreamboats i'd say like a bunch of colored balloons pro-creative mmmmm very good so far i really appreciate that part* HOLY HOLY HOLY next assignment POWER OVER NATURE *figure out a way to sustain and perpetuate your creatures* I AM WHO I AM *what ever you say can we move on now? whats with all the disease mental problems fear hostility and famine? be a  good* GOD *for gods sake and amp up the happiness please they are like bunch of sick cats down there* NOT A LEAF FALLS WITHOUT MY WILL ooooo noooooo !!!!! *there not suppose to **** and eat each other what the **** are you thinking are you stupid* OH HOLY ONE THE UNKNOWN and THE UNKNOWABLE *stop with the smog of hell your creatures live in terror living only to be destroyed go sit in the corner facing the wall yes the dunce cap too your a bad* GOD *a ***** we will have to call your parents for retribution* HOLY HOLY HOLY
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76
Twisted tensions, polarize and sometimes heal w/ pretty eyes Though the stars make up their minds Peace w/ you, in briefest time Oh Mars is cruel, w/ war and womb and gestation in Neptunes tomb you helped me speed, relieve the moon though Pluto is cold and I'm leaving soon Live in times where whispers win and cartels carry forgotten sin When the end is near I will wish for respiration Death may be too boring for one born to run Run w/ warlords and Gods, the light until the ethers rise and spike the people then begin to fight and man and woman are alike
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Twisted Tensions
i am the creator god, who comes apart at the cracks whose skin splits between his toes; my pain doubles as rainbows in your sky i cry out for divine help, there are no more angels left to ground they all left your house, ages ago took off for the warmer temples, where deities echo among their own shadows. no one knows the mystery’s clothes or his origins; demanding the stones, to throw their own and hold their tune, for monsoons are coming soon and we shall bloom in the ethers. a flower that calls forth, summons you, to mask the face that is too radiant to view, i pursue truth like an addiction; its suspicious how we are looking, for the beast to breathe through this dirt, oh, what delicious derision what a mission of love and kindness yet, don't forget blindness; as sadness suspects that we are searching way too soon and you are utterly beautiful all aspects dutiful; you are goodness personified, what a shame to hide the sun behind your skirt yet you shake your hips and it hurts, my heart abundant waters slips from your mouth and still i shout your name
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Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
G.O.D: Generate, Organize and Deliver
We are being destroyed by advertising We are like broken pieces of cardboard Our astral faces are printed on the backs Of empty milk cartons tossed into the ethers Fed on scarcity and internet dreams of modeling With broken hopes we spend our lives meandering Yet we are fooling ourselves and others Our barnyards are empty Can we trust our hearts more than our apathy Plenty of people are dying young and lonely These falling arrows following their own trajectories I seethe with anger at this ineffable insanity I say f@#! it anyway Have you ever wondered why our ancestors didn’t sleep While you take my fingers and bend them beneath you Jettison the weapons Of everlasting happiness We are sentimental accidents ******* the equators And salivating waiters We assume we are alone but it's a foolish hope Instead we resent your intangible laughter Stand against the rafters We are dreaming of liberation Still we are shaking in our dressing rooms Like confused teenagers Who eat alligator mustard Those salty incubation periods Where we swallowed buckets of sadness Like mouthfuls of burnt toast This soap is soft and bubbly And now we get lost In our own homes on the daily These poems speak to us softly Yet you seek what is costly I need nothing that i don’t already own Love is a poem So remember the phone-calls you made Yesterday's sunrise fell on our faces And we hid against the windy tides Those retired auto dealers And our ancient healers are weeping They're just about ready to sell you their souls
0
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
e-the-real
We are being destroyed by advertising We are like broken pieces of cardboard Our astral faces are printed on the backs Of empty milk cartons tossed into the ethers Fed on scarcity and internet dreams of modeling With broken hopes we spend our lives meandering Yet we are fooling ourselves and others Our barnyards are empty Can we trust our hearts more than our apathy Plenty of people are dying young and lonely These falling arrows following their own trajectories I seethe with anger at this ineffable insanity I say f@#! it anyway Have you ever wondered why our ancestors didn’t sleep While you take my fingers and bend them beneath you Jettison the weapons Of everlasting happiness We are sentimental accidents ******* the equators And salivating waiters We assume we are alone but it's a foolish hope Instead we resent your intangible laughter Stand against the rafters We are dreaming of liberation Still we are shaking in our dressing rooms Like confused teenagers Who eat alligator mustard Those salty incubation periods Where we swallowed buckets of sadness Like mouthfuls of burnt toast This soap is soft and bubbly And now we get lost In our own homes on the daily These poems speak to us softly Yet you seek what is costly I need nothing that i don’t already own Love is a poem So remember the phone-calls you made Yesterday's sunrise fell on our faces And we hid against the windy tides Those retired auto dealers And our ancient healers are weeping They're just about ready to sell you their souls
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43
Caught in the blaze Burning in the apocalyptic fire Scorching in the moment Words escape me And turn to ethers Burning before they were born The pit of my stomach Encages the answer I seek But those winged faeries Stand with me but dont speak Held back by fear Trapped behind trembling lips And unnecessary doubt Burning me but not letting the warmth in
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
Emotional Firewall
David makes me a friendlier person sometimes..... I am as aloof as the Himalayan mountain range my head in the ethers spinning in absolute sparkling space glassy stars pellucid galaxies cascading around me my loving hubby brings me down to earth I feel the lush loam warmth of humankind and gather the world around my fireplace singing bhajans chanting sweet Oms
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Sep 13, 2021
Sep 13, 2021 at 9:14 PM UTC
Dear David
I wonder what the speed of dreams is can we outrun them or catch up when we dare, latch on to the ones we would care to live in; are they like sounds rippling through air - or rather more stars' light, in flight 'cross wide universes, like mighty, galloping, wild horses 'till caught by the eyes, tamed rides for tired minds ... ... do they travel through ethers known only to souls, who keep them as secrets when daylight unfolds else we might stay there, forgetting our chores, just us two lying on the bank of a river under the willow that binds us together
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Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 6:01 AM UTC
What Souls Remember
i thought i heard the ****** of the blue bell around your neck girl i paused my creative trickle to chase you all around this property and that one i hugged your mom washed my hands rolled up my sleeve and you were still gone into the cat ethers you werent even meowing hell how are we supposed to feed you when you wont return the "HIIIIII!!!" we yell at the expense of our own self-esteem i opened all the doors for you just to return and keep my seat on that armchair warm the only place you could have been more removed from my line of sight least advantageous to your keepers most absent from your natural environment least accommodating to our directives the only place you could have been curled up and purring after all that???! seriously. i had to get on my belly to see you laughing at me cool in your aunts room tail wagging "I FOUND HER!!!"
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
lost cat {i see you tubby}
Quad- relatteral interspatial species journey to the center of the quaking in my tummy rumbly glass faces melt to goo milky substances ethers in space love this time of the year
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Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 10:10 PM UTC
Nerp
That, that flows in veins; Evil hearts and cruel souls - Ignite. Creating the brightest fires; The fiercest roars. Shrill cries of agony - Le in the ethers; To be unanswered - Forever.
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Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Madness
Sometimes I wish I could see into the future gaze Like Nostradamus into a pool of flaming water Tomorrow disrobing disclosing all her hidden secrets how seductive it would be to lift the fluttering veils between worlds seen and unseen read the destiny of uncharted stars soft multi-colored gaslights glimmering across the vaporous ethers but then I ponder in my heart to what avail would all this be if I don’t know who I am the vast person enthroned within who answers to a thousand names and no name The One in which the sun, moon planets, whirling galaxies, universes humanity and all that exists animate and inanimate moves, breathes and has its being
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Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Golden Oracle
Cri Per sooth a lbay Goyle way hem- raging letter (p)Frozen shell, thaw sleeting Pulsing necks harelm glow-in after math of the shadowy fight her's filling glaint, gladly save entice weary charter banner pilling sooth sabre Immerseyourself, freeself lead soul not that of a barron but soon something/ ethers awept & taken back from ground back from reprose back from amist Groomed tooken & Vol = best my friends & love i am awept
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Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
free thinking after the rain/ignorance in my mind faded