"expressing" poems
Never let someone else decide how good you are. And never make an exception to that rule.
Your words, and your unique we of expressing them, are a gift given to you. If someone else doesn't appreciate them, then good for them. It's not their gift, so it has nothing to do with them. Its your responsibility to respect your gifts and to protect them from negativity; typical of these lower life forms, called Haters; annoying little creatures that feed off of other people's energy and hard work - they spawn fairly quickly and dewl in the depths of social media, hidden behind computer and smartphone screens. Usually over-weight, bad breath, single and filthy broke. Hindered by limited hand-eye coordination; they simply **** at every thing. They are pretty pathetic, in person. I mean they look human, but have no spinal cord, so they don't stand up straight. Their habitats similar to that of a large roach, just messier with and more filth. I hear they are contagious, so be careful. Don't let their negativity rub off on you, or you will end up like one of them. A soulless zombie, paroling posts looking for a something stupid to say.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
I think it's crazy that they want me to type an essay over deforestation for a score or practice or to better my writing. That's 60 more minutes I'm wasting of my life. They say that sooner or later everything we do we will do with technology. So here I am now writing this essay that's supposed to be about deforestation and the effects and consequences. We are not discussing the issue. We are sitting in wooden chairs with our computers sitting on our wooden desks surrounded by wooden bookcases. So much irony right? I seem to be the only one to notice anyways.
We come here seven hours a day, do hours of homework, "study" the information, aka memorize regurgitate then forget all of it. This is not teaching us. We are not learning anything useful to help us live. It's all numbers and words that do not matter to me.
If anyone thinks that all us kids come to school to learn they're wrong and if they think that the teachers come to teach they're even more wrong. We come to pass class after class so we can leave and actually make something of ourselves. The teachers come because they have to for the money. They do not care about us or our feelings. They put all this pressure on us to be the best we can be which really means make a good grade.
I've been silent for so long now. Not expressing my feelings towards much of anything. Also toward the reason I have to wake up at five every morning to be around people I do not even like.
I feel as though the education system is unfair and cruel and does not take into consideration what the kids who go through this cycle everyday think.
So that's what I think about deforestation.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
Feathers glimmer and shine
As though covered in fish oil
I lubricate the brain
As I slip through the sky
With a frictionless flicker
My lightening wings
Brain waves rapidly fluctuate
Perfect balance held
Between left and right
Each wing a hemisphere
As they beat and beat
Accelerating into hyper speed
80 to a hundred or more
Beats per second
As though injected
With a sonic speed
Synapses bursting and exploding
Exponentially connecting
Blistering wing speed
I become electric
My circuits exploring
Rippling and flickering through paper
My brain comes alive
Flashing multicolored lights
Like the cities nights
But still spaces collect around me
As I am buffered from the world
Perfectly still though standing
On an invisible ledge
I hold my mind in place
While I hum in space
Head down I drop my beak
Into a funnel of concentration
As I tunnel into trumpets
Penetrating deep I flower
In new knowledge
Polar aspects of mind
Released through coherent communication
Set free with coordination
I seek to marry chalk and cheese
As I hold the balance
Between two worlds
Flashing synapses firing
And combusting
Against pointed concentration
My mind juggles two *****
Expanding into their fullness
Expressing vibrant color
My slippery slender beak
Slips and slides in
As I flutter through pages
I discover new unexpected surprises
Problems solved, Startling adventures
And puzzles completed
I find the sugary syrup
The delicate delicious sweet spot
With the thrill of falling domino's
Spilling and cascading
Many ripples fanning out
Through my mind
I find freedom
Each ripple massaging my mind
I am catapulted into outer space
I dance from fact to golden fact
As I am propelled forward on stardust
My momentum shoots me forward
I bounce and bounce
My mind becoming unbounded
I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.
Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.
(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction
Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity
Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.
Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.
Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.
And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.
Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you
Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.
That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.
So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Hello Friends & Happy Holi to all my hello poetry friends ,Writers & Family..
May this holi brings you and your family a very bright, colourful joyful holi, With love of Peace, happiness , prosperity & success in Every ones life..
Today writing this letter by expressing my Feeling for one my favourite Indian festival, I know it is strange but this is what my excitement is all about.. what you like the most express it by Writing or enjoy it!!
Holi is a religious festival of the Hindus. Though, it is most popular in India, it is celebrated in every corner of the world as a Festival of colours.
Today describing you the importance of the different colors(Gulal) of holi festival which significance your face life with a different colorful world!!.
the face behind your colour are followed below:
Auspicious Red Colour bright the love of happiness
Divine Green colour binds you in the life of prosperity
Forever Blue color bleed your soul in a Blissful world
Pretty orange color mild your Elysian mind as a silence peace
Beautiful Pink color scents intriguing personality of life
Sunflame yellow color kisses your beautiful moment of time!!.
Well colour is a beautiful life were you experience the beauty of joy, beauty of passion, beauty of love , beauty of everything that you will experience in this festival !!.come once and get yours new experience of life ....Thank-you..
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
I don't care who said crying was overrated, who gave you the ******* right to control the tear ducts of another human .
A human shows emotion through tears , laughter , smiles. The human face has 24 different emotions yet the water stains on her cheeks was never stated as one .
The stains of mascara running down her cheeks , dripping on to neck , her nose sniffling up the excess embarrassment .
I told her to stop trying to be brave , she had to embrace each feeling as it came , I saw her chest heave up and down in a rapid movement so fast I couldn't keep count.
Her mouth was open , no sound came out , she looked like a fish out of water and person screaming but no sound .
Her hands started to shake her body soon followed next I held her close put her head in between the crook of my face and neck .
I felt the water dripping down my neck to my top I never said a word , never told her to stop.
Even though I just changed my sheets that day I never told her to man up because crying is a source of speech when words are not enough .
She had so much emotion and all she could do was mutter incoherent words ,I think it was " I'm sorry" .
Sorry for what I will never know , she never once asked me to let go and I never did .
For once in her life I gave her an embrace even though she refused because if she didn't feel my comfort I'm not sure what she would do .
I did it because when I need that embrace they all refused to give it , they told me to " **** it up" " be ******* brave" , I soon found comfort in smashing my fist against my bathroom mirror and throwing my mothers jewellery box outside in the rain .
I stopped and I jumped in the mud that had formed and that was when I promised myself , if another person needs my embrace no matter who it was , I sure as ******* hell will give it because crying alone is just no good.
It's no good that others can't see your pain , I encourage you to throw a fit and call names , call them all ******* ***** tell them how worthless they are that when you needed comfort he would rather go sit in the car .
I want you to scream , yell and shout with the tears streaming down your face , show them what expressing yourself is all about.
Darling don't ever hold your tears in , wearing mascara or not ,just always keep a tissue tucked in your sleeve, and wipe your eyes till they are raw with the courage that they need.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
I could write a billion poems
expressing how I feel
but not a single word
could make you truly
understand
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
howling at the moon,
in the deep cold of the night.
the lone wolf lurks around,
expressing its only fright.
it cries out for company,
but all he gets
is the wind.
blood runs cold,
fur collects frost,
a hush falls onto his lips
this is the lone wolf's silencing,
and silence he shall keep.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Time isn't wasted at the end of the day
When you're in bed thinking about all the things
You could've done,
You could've said,
All the empty boxes left on your to do list
Time is wasted
When you're standing on a rock at the edge of a waterhole
And decide to not jump
When you're sitting in your car trying to justify reasons
For not going in
When you anxiously hit backspace
Instead of expressing how you truly feel
When you ignore your heart that's screaming
"You deserve better."
It's lost in I could have and I should have,
In missed opportunities,
In letting fears override judgement
Time is not necessarily wasted
In passing minutes, months, years
We waste time by
Counting seconds,
And by letting seconds pass
When we could've made
Those seconds count
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
You are a flame inside me
Flickering,
Teasing,
Caressing,
Smoldering.
You are far away
Yet so close
Teetering on the edge of my imagination.
The yearning is the knowing
The mere knowledge of you
That you are existing somewhere
Somewhere my reality can’t touch.
My words spill out of me
Like candy from a piñata
Pages and pages
Poems scattered about like hungry pigeons.
You make me so hungry
So eager to express
To spill my inner self onto empty pages.
You are my muse
My cruel inspiration
The tears staining my pillow.
I am dancing on a cloud
Unnoticed by you
As you live your life
Unaware of mine.
My words are endless
My thoughts knowing no bounds
As I imagine your eyes
Penetrating through me.
You are my fantasy
My never forever
My drug of choice.
You are the fuel that keeps me writing,
Feeling,
Expressing.
You are my special light
Turning on inside me
When all my creativity is turned off.
I want to ravish you
Bite the buttons off your shirt
Loosen your necktie
Drown in your eyes without a life jacket.
You are my muse crush
The smile on my face
The pain in my heart
The hello that never comes
The inevitable goodbye.
© 2014 Stacey Handler
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
With him, the walls come down.
I'm expressing my deepest of frowns.
He knows me now.
I can truly be me; myself.
It may be hard at first, to be raw.
But with him, I'd do it all.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
I walked into a church today,
One I wanted to visit for days,
I passed by it, saw the huge doors open
Inviting me in daily, but I just didn’t go in.
I’m a Hindu by religion,
Indian by birth,
I have an older sister,
My mom and my dad obviously.
Why am I telling you this?
Well because I’m everything but
Happy, calm and sorted,
Just angry, irritated and anxious.
They fight, my mom and dad,
They love each other, or maybe they don’t,
But they fight and argue,
They don’t hold back on concern either.
They talk a lot, my sister and him,
The guy she’s seeing but not dating,
The guy she’s serious about but hasn’t met,
She’s always on the phone, sharing every bit of her life.
I entered the church,
Felt nothing, felt the same as usual,
No excitement, disappointment, nothing,
Temples don’t help either.
I love my family, they love me back,
They care and support me, a lot!
I don’t want it most of the times,
It both keeps me alive and suffocates me.
They are always there,
Standing right by me,
If not in person, then by spirit,
Always a call away.
I talk to them every day, thrice,
Twice at least, message my whereabouts,
It’s a habit, a want, a need
To let them know everything about me.
They are fighting now,
I got an email this time,
Not a phone call, nor message,
Mom lied, that she’s got her migraine.
Dad’s left the family WhatsApp group,
Blamed it on the work stress,
But I know better, we all do,
I may be the youngest, but I’m 20.
My sister’s fed up with me,
Well she’s not the only one,
I shout, scream, screech rudely,
Loudly, with no sane reason.
I know I need help,
We all do, for anger,
To love and feel loved,
But it’s never going to happen.
I am a psychology student,
I want to let the world know,
With my research that depression and anxiety,
Can’t be beat with medicines nor by expressing.
My sister’s a Human Rights student,
Who wants to help people,
Support and care for them,
You can’t, nothing will end human suffering.
We are the sole cause of it,
Human suffering, the ones with fuel,
The ones with the extinguisher,
Yet, each time we choose poorly.
My family is broken, ******* up,
It’s surviving on a thin string,
But it won’t break, ever,
We’ll all just drift apart.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
I used to think that sadness was beautiful,
But what is the point of it all? We're supposed to be youthful!
They said time and time over that it would pass, but to be truthful:
The feeling and expressing pain or sorrow for sins, it's all we feel: ruthful
So in the end, what is the point of life at all?
When all we do is sit around and bawl,
"I just wanted to be pretty Cristi, just like a doll!"
But isn't it more important to be happy, above all?
All I have been feeling for the past couple of years is pain,
Even though all I have wrapped around my neck is a golden chain
Rather than his clenched fingers restricting against my jugular vein,
With a voice in the back of my mind reminding me of my engraved Mark of Cain,
It begs and exclaims, and it can't seem to remain restrained,
But to ease me of my pain, they'd say: "Here, have a glass of Champagne."
Can't you see what this mystery is doing to me?
I can't seem to break the shackles that would set me free,
All I'm reminded of is of my unfinished Master's Degree.
"Is that all that matters to you?!" I dare to plea,
"But what about my happiness, or my hemophilia b?!"
Their expressions are forever carved in my mind: dropped jaws and widened eyes,
"If it is such a sin to be happy, can't one consider the act of decriminalize?!"
They'd all put up such a convincing and eerie disguise
As if it would turn back the clock to avoid their end, their demise
But I could tell by their silenced, hushed lips and snake eyes:
My inquiry deserved a Nobel prize
What was it about my question that turned my loved ones against me?
They wouldn't dare turn their heads my way, they'd continue to sip on their black tea
As if I were a ghost, or some sort of banshee
The loss of my sanity is what they could foresee
-
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
I feel suffocated talking to lots of people,
I feel so lonely in every parties I attended,
I can not stand the crowds all time,
I feel scared about their thoughts on me,
yet,
why,
Do I feel so secure expressing myself in verses and lines,
Voicing every pieces of my thoughts and story,
To the people I never met face-to-face,
And gladly accept any critiques to my words...
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
I had so much to say but then I lost the courage.
You wouldn't want to hear them, I know.
I'm no good expressing what I want to,
When my heart's about to be throw out of my mouth.
The tightness on my throat intensifies and I stand quiet,
While my head's about to be blown away with so many thoughts.
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
You shake me to the core, I feel alive
And so afraid, that I'm the only one feeling that way.
You break my walls, the next second I'm building them up again.
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
Please, show me that you want to get to know me,
That you ******* care,
That you'll be there if I need.
I trust you so much. I can't understand how that happened.
You give me so much security when I look at you,
That everything's gonna be easier, even when you're ****** up inside.
How?
*Because every time we say goodbye,
It feels like I'm about to say something.
But then I look at you and I've all the answers.
I don't even know what that means.*
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Its been awhile since I've last told you how I truly feel.
I love you and that's a true fact because you make my head reel.
I just can't help but feel the way I do.
Maybe you feel the same way too?
The more I think about it, the more I wonder
But should I stop before I Plunder?
I don't deserve you and that's the truth.
If I did truly deserve you why do I not feel that truth?
I want to be with you for as long as I can
I mean come on Saturday 2/7/15 marked three months for us man
But I feel as if you could better...
And this isn't me saying I'm breaking up with you.
This is me expressing how I feel towards you.
I love you with all my heart don't ever forget that...
But babe PLEASE don't break my heart!!
Granted when it does come to the point of ending the relationship
I'm gonna be hurt regardless.
I'm going to cry and be depressed for a little bit but I'll get over it....Eventually.
I guess the whole point of this was to express how I feel with you and to tell you if you don't want to be with me...please tell me now...don't lead me on.
You make me feel special, like one of a kind.
But do I make you feel like that?
Or do I just make it hard on you?
I LOVE YOU...WITH ALL MY HEART
Please don't ever forget that
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
but have you noticed, have you noticed how all mental health problems
stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category;
i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns
being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers;
it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns.
it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days
and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases
attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs
thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness
the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity
of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression
of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality,
the aether virus attacks the pronoun
on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use
of pronouns, when a king casually says
of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively;
so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong
that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber
and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering?
the pronoun category is weak from day one,
because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed
into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought
without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge
rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point
of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer
to have weak thinking and strength in knowing,
for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing,
i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall.
so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia
attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one
will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain
clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals -
while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals,
but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals!
but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness,
in that segregational aspect of things "sorted,"
why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage
compared to a strength in other grammatical categories?
why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns?
the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked,
and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king
into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked
and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself
fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic
as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
What is life if not worth living
What is space if not worth filling
What of the emotions that we all feel
if they are not worth expressing
Are they not things that give us meaning
The air I breath
the food I eat
the water I drink
What are they worth if not worth sharing
Are they not things that give us life
and what is life if not worth living
The emotions we feel
our beliefs, our thoughts
our very essence of who we are
Are they not things that give us meaning
What is life if not worth living
What is space if not worth filling
What of the emotions that we all feel
if they are not worth expressing
Are they not things that give us meaning
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Facebook thank you for connecting me with the people from my past
For unleasing the jelouse side of me being stuck and others passing through
Thank you for making me see that dreams are slow but safe careers are for every one. I mean I don't wanna work at the mines but all my past is over there taking salfies expressing joys and progress
Facebook I check you everyday yet I gain none from you
In a world I live in all is difficult to achieve
So I'm putting a smile on my face showing teeth that have been brushed
Taking a selfie of myself looking beautiful, instead of worried and scared ill post it and get liked for a while
Facebook you beat all buying you roll out the desires and never spead next to ideas
So ill post my self and pretend
I'm doing that for my selfie
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Poet : " Hey peeps"
Singer : "sup"
Artist : " Hiii"
Poet : " I was wondering, its quite intriguing how we are all quite similar , yet different as well "
Artist : "How so ?"
Poet : " Well, we all show , some feeling or emotion or portray any message in some sort of form, one way or another "
Singer : "Thats true , I use my voice so that many can hear my lyrics whether cryptic or not "
Poet : True, but you also forgot...
Artist : "Poet does this as well , despite the words on paper for many to read , poet doesn't quite sing in melody , but speaks so that many can hear the words to tell the message "
Poet : " Exactly , thank you Artist "
Artist : " No problem , as for me I neither Sing nor speak , my art paint the words I want to convey in the mind as an image "
Singer : "Yes,Yes, But don't you at times say what your art means , so technically you do speak kinda"
Artist : " Hahaha , ******** yes but I would only say 15-20 per cent of the time , to convey what i'm trying to define "
Poet : " Fair enough but technically poets can do this as well , in fact there is a type of poetry called...
Artist : " Concrete, Yes I know , such a flattering name by the way, hahaha "
Singer : " Hahaha"
Poet : " Anyways! , to add to poetry we need not have to create art , for our message to be visualized "
Singer : " Thats all well and good , however in the rhythmic sway in the melodies of song , I quite literally move people , you could even say the way they dance to my songs to show how it makes them feel , expressing themselves, as well as painting a picture ...."
Poet : "Hahaha damnnn, are you trying to show your the best ?"
Singer : " Just saying facts , not my fault it might come across as me being the best "
Poet : "Do try and remember us Poets do move those who read or listen to our poetry , they can relate. On the words , they think and meditate plus with those lines an image in there mind they do, re-create"
Singer : " Really , you just couldn't help not rhyming ? "
Poet : " Don't hate , appreciate.. "
Singer : " Oh gosh... "
Artist : " Hahaha"
Artist : " Don't forget us Artists , our art , can move people , maybe not as physically as you Singer, but we can cause a sway of thoughts for a painting can have a multitude of meanings"
Artist : " Sometimes it is better not to tell them my definition of the painting, but to see what it means to them and how it makes them feel "
Singer : " Sigh fair enough you got me there... "
Poet : " Its like I said , we are similar in the fact , that we portray something in our own unique act , to wonder and see how the viewer will react , to see the thoughts and feelings in our different dealings... To..."
Singer : " Oh my gosh we get it... No need to rhyme us to oblivion"
Artist : " We all basically show some sort of message just in a different way "
Singer : " See , why couldn't you just say that poet ? "
Poet : " Oh shut up."
Artist ; " Hahaha"
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
The pencil scraping along the paper, forming a masterpiece taken straight from the mind and the nerves along my spine was a lullaby.
And so I drew a gorgeous, full moon and shaded its craters,
I drew furious ocean waves because my Science teacher told me there was a relationship between the moon and the ocean.
It was so intriguing to know the closer the moon, the more revolting and furious the waves.
But my Art teacher also told me that art is a form expression.
I was expressing my feelings, explaining our situation, and my brain and hand agreed to compare us to the moon and the ocean because that's what we were.
You were always so beautiful yet distant; watched and loved by everyone, but explored by few.
I was always so revolting and mysterious, no one willing or able to reach the depths and hollows of me; better maps of the surface of Mars than my vast ocean floor.
We were so distant and different yet I needed you to be.
You were always waking up every emotion I thought I had been drained of; turned my lowest tides to crashing, fierce waves; always dependent of your full or new state.
You are my moon and I am your ocean; so different yet it feels so right.
The ocean wasn't so realistic until I felt salty tears of it run down my cheeks,
there was no more silence.
I was at low tide, and I needed my moon.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Delicate nets collect on sailing clouds of violet mist
While red leaves twist and spin in turn
Gleaming sparks of dawn cannot be dismissed
As the scattered night sky
Is adjourned
Sweet water gathers in a dream’s own reflection
On a whirling spider’s silvery thread
Morning has broken needing no authentication
See her truth glowing there
In an intricate web
Tiny stones are surrounding sharp blades of grass
Worshiping the presence, they behold
Looking up from the shadows of a looking glass
With their own stories
Still untold
A leaping bass, splashes proudly in a silent pond
Each drop of water expressing its distress
Thinking that the sun was waiting to respond
To his shimmering silence
Used to impress
A single drop of water, a red leaf twisting in the wind
A spider weaving her web to be blessed
Even the tiny stones worshiping their friends
Leap with the bass, distressing the pond
To impress
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS;
JOYFUL, POSITIVE AND FILLED WITH CONVICTIONS
EMANATING SWEET AND MELODIC FREQUENCIES RESONATING WITH DNA AND TRANSFORMED INTO COMPLETION.
AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS
SPOKEN INNOCENTLY AND BOLDLY AS A CHILD WOULD; EXPRESSING HIS BEAUTIFUL IMAGINATION
WHETHER WE USE PRAYER, CHANTING OR MEDITATION AFFIRMATIONS ARE THE KEYS TO OUR EVOLUTION.
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 6:00 PM UTC