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From an ornate podium
the orator spoke words--
..extraordinarily elaborate ones..
as if,
as if

But those who know..
we who have  laid low,
down in to the trenches
as grunts, both  outside
and inside  

    of the wire..

Those who have  quietly
done their legwork..
who have accepted their
difficult fate  as that   borne  of
and in to,  a training..  an equipping;
lay low,
lay low

.   .   .   .  

The throngs
at the foot of the podium--
mesmerized by their own  need
to be mesmerized,  never even
   noticed the children
who  in their innocence,  peered
out from under the crowd's legs

to better see the 'magnificent' podium..

The oldest of which, ran back to trenches
trying to describe what they saw.
Two of the quiet, unassuming-ones
made their way back to the podium,  
and in blocking out the orator's voice,
(which  to the  knowing,
was  as that of a clanging bell..)

Now observed up close, the inner-workings
of the elaborate podium
and sat in  wonder of its expenditures--
wrapped around such  slipshod,   weak
and hastily assembled framework..

And in having become interested in the
structure's groundedness to what one
would hope would be  a solid-built
foundation, placed onto solid, earthen ground
They instead gasped as they saw its
legs floating upon nothing..

"What the **** is holding this thing up..?"

War-trained and battle-hardened,
they remembered their superiors speaking
in hushed tones that even ******, with all
of his blowhard oratorical *******,   at least

had a semblance of the podium's fastenings..

Albeit, partially assembled by our own country's
stupidity within certain provisions brought forth
in the Treaty of Versailles,

   but this
   but this;

This oratorical misleading of the broken-ones
this empty illusion of a presentation,  borne
not  from a suffering  leading to true regeneration
but instead, a distractive short-cut into the Realms;
   This counterfeit substance..
as if borne in power,    as if..  as if.

    .. But the realms.. they know

It is only those down here on earth,  spirit
cloaked within the deceptive misgivings
of the flesh-- so aching to establish itself
apart  from the necessary legwork needed
to humbly become a part of Stream's flow:
(borne,  solely from the inner Wellspring--  deep
within the bowels of Love's True Ache)..


It is here.. on earth..  that you will find
the reward you seek..  oh wondrous orator,
oh magnificent 'smither' of fine words..

   Your podium, a whitewashed soapbox
   floating upon nothing..



--And therefore meaning   nothing
within the Substance-Based parameters  
    of the Realms.


"Now there were seven sons of Sceva,
a Jewish chief priest,  doing this.
But the evil spirit responded and said to them,

“I recognize Jesus,
and I know of Paul,
but who (the ****) are you..?”

And the man in whom was the evil spirit,
pounced on them and subdued all of them
and overpowered them,
so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded."
~Substance 19


..we are defined by our actions, not our words.
https://youtu.be/bGb3CT7ZKKI

xox
youtube.com/watch?v=vkQpgNecMQA

xoxo
youtube.com/watch?v=rECKlXkopIQ

xoxoxo ox
youtu.be/exaEt7szfi4?si=s91DV0Nk8fX0d9is
saveourstraws123 Jun 2018
Sturdy on my own two feet
Quickly sinking today
Feet turn to putty
As I scramble to stay balanced
Blackout
Start over

Slowly walking again
Emma Nov 2012
In all honesty, I've loved you since I first knew you.
I love you in the ways I don't know how to love
and in the places I don't know how to look for
I love you in the ways it hurts to communicate
and the places eyes are most powerful
and colors, the colors you paint behind you
and wings - I was searching, you showed me roots
and that growth stems from groundedness
and that circles are everywhere

I want to be in a circle with you
It's a sort of unformed dream, where I imagine
I might not need to be constantly moving

I love you just looking at you
eyes soft and
something hidden
we don't need to speak
I just want to kiss you
I will never tell you unless you ask, kid. And even then I won't have the right words. You. Soft-spoken presence. Glitter on the cedars. Glowing shadows. Constant love. Childlike. Manlike. Challenging standards. The art of being. Simple. Complex. Sphere. Rain and jazz. It has now been years, and it is better that you do not know the extent to which I've loved you.
Matt Mar 2015
Breathe In

And Breathe out this promise
Fill the world with light

Release all appearances and aspirations
And be still

Ease
Relaxation
And groundedness

My view is as vast as space
When it comes to my conduct
It as precise as parched barley flour

Grounded where you are
LannaEvolved May 2021
Careful with courage...

Deeply rooted truths
twisted breaths into
my life

the loneliness took navigating through

the loss that came to me in baskets of highlighted mystery

the past achievers who didn’t survive

I made a promise to my ancestors
between my golden coins
lipstick buried in red dangling

Chair and purse
off it’s arch

Sit me back down on the groundedness
Bring me back to please

Freeze me
but why after you dismiss me?

To the dream awakening
don’t hurt me
protect my mind
whispers in my ear

I swear to my ceremony

I am careful with courage...
Jake Aug 2019
Coins, Pentacles, The suitor of stability and groundedness.
Grounded like the plants that spring forth from the raw earth, like the cleansing stream flows in the pasture as the shepard attempts to heard his sheep.
The heard counts itself and drifts into a rest with no end.
His pasture, his cane, he takes me to the lake,
to look out at the water.
Only to discover a drowned sheep, lead astray by the false tranquility of the sea.
The shepard stares at the waves the waterlogged sheep was trapped underneath, and understands.
The Shepard dries off the sopping lamb with the fruits of his labor.


Swords want to conquer, to break in the untamable mare, its blade yearns for a wielder, for victory.
The blade's metal is molten, soon to be cooled by the calm waters of the cup as moonlight gleams off the hilt.
Within the grotto's hidden dirt pathway, the sword bends, piercing the heart of it's holder, but blood never was spilt.
It whispers of the eminent dangers, lurking just beyond the brush.

Wands, Rods, Batons.
Each want to cast a spell, but are fearful of it's effects.
And sacred texts collect dust, their token of age, never to be read by another.
A thin layer of dust, is what cleaves the truth.

Cups. Empty? Or full?
The liquid held within finds a momentary stillness so soon to be interrupted by the thirsty mouths of beggars, but the cup refills.
The copper forged within a kiln of fire and chaos, only to be treated as mear iron by all except the poor that drink from it.
The enchanted cup comes with a single proverb, a warning, which is engraved within it's metallic surface.
"To ye who's lips caress thyn skin, What thee take out wilt beest putteth back in, if ye life is what thee truly cherish, then replenish what thee take or thyn shalt surely perish."

The coins gingle as copper meets gold, the sword sharpens against the cup as the hilt and handle hold no company, the cups waters polish the birch, that in turn will one day give birth to the wands of the future.
But without the cups grasp the coins have no place to be held, without the cups fine sheen the sword becomes dull and chipped, and without the nurturing waters the cup provides and the birch withers and dies.
This is the truth: The cup holds and sharpens and waters.

By never at once

As the Coins, Sword and Wands feel more content,
The cup is fearful that it will never filled. Fearful of being reforged, being repurposed, again.

But the cup refuses to be contorted into a shape that fits their desires.

The disks want to be grasped.

The swords want to sharpen.

The wands want to be watered.

But the cup still yearns for the sea, an endless source of fulfilment and possibility, and with it, the future, far in the horizon.
LannaEvolved Dec 2020
I'm careful with courage

I swear to my ceremony

Protect my mind


Whispers in my ear

Don't hurt me

Awakening

To the dream

I ask:


After you Dismiss me
Freeze me
Please

Bring me back to groundedness

———————————————————

Sit me back down on the chair with my

purse dangling

off its arch with red lipstick buried

in between my golden coins

I made a promise to my ancestors

To past achievers who didn’t survive:

The loss that came to me in baskets

Of highlighted

Mystery

I navigated

through

The loneliness that took my life

twisted into breaths of deeply rooted truths  
———————————————————

Chew on this. Wake up!

Look to the mirror of your

distorted views

You’ll see

how

to surpass the flames of insecurity

and shame


Everything I’ve ever wanted

has come to an equilibrium


Nothing more to do

In my eye lives a perfect wish

An improved soul

That we both get to choose:

Take me to the greatest future of my existence.

— The End —