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Tim Mansour Jun 2018
Taking control, he looked at himself in the mirror,  
his eyes tracing the lines and hairs and circles.

He sat and gazed out the window for a time, noticed the street signs and the birds.

He listened to the noises coming past the open door
He stood and walked through the day until he sat, on a bus,  
or next to a tree, or beside a homeless woman.  
He chose not to act or speak but simply to be.

He found a quiet place to wonder  
how the tips of his fingers could move a pencil with such minute rhythm  
above a line of awareness, connecting him to everyone  
who ever read  
or died.

He travelled in and out of consciousness, to the stars and back,  
and all his journeys made experiences,  
but his awareness made wisdom.

He thought of love, and this thought became  
his breath, and the sky,  
and the day ahead was a clean sheet to write upon,  
to be continued,  
to start for the first time.
Johan Nel Jul 2018
How beautiful a phenomenon to behold, the act of learning without thinking.
The nature of living things.
I do think upon what the effect of making my bed every morning may be.

I do think about the ending of a sentence, the pause and effect.

But can I know every such thing about my biology?
Can I know more about my every atom in the space of being?
A terrifically ungraspable question to ask.

What do words do, to the firing of each synapse, in every language that has been?
Even the machine literature.
I speak to the god of life within reason, cause and effect.

I speak of collisions.
I speak of patterns that are too perfect in a beehive.

How fascinating it is to ask this in so many cryptic ways.
© Johan Nel 2018.07.06
Dark Fjord Dec 2016
A monkey saw a fish swimming
and thinking it was dying pulled it out of the water.
The fish died... try to understand the world of the other.
thinking animals
I can't see the future
I can't change the past

For once,
I pause
and breathe
and laugh

Because in this moment
I am
So, so
"I am so, so alive"
~ Maggie Stievater
… the phrase that has shaped my life
onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
she returns from her classes,
ballet, yoga, core something and Zumba for flavoring,
her hair, an upward, toe pointing cannon of mop mess,
her face glowing flushed,
one look and I know she is both,
morphing high,
wipeout exhausted

a little ritual she performs somewhere between
"it was great and she (the instructor) killed us,"
auto sub conscious,
she looks herself over,
twisting elegantly like the
Argentine tango dancer she is,
in the mirrored closet doors

raising both arms to see (show off)
the sums of her endeavors,
the exoskeletal musculature
she has earned,
a life long effort,
like a prize fighter as he
macho enters the ring,
an alpha male gesture
if ever there was one,
made over to say,
hey boy, look at me!

and the boy looks her over,
always thinking, but never revealing,
that it is her muscles of mindfulness and mercy,
that take his breath away, the ones that are worked out daily,
the ones that surround and work the heart beating,
the lung inhaler of humans in need,
exhaling the richest
oxygen for others to breathe

and the boy does his service,
providing a "wow" or "very impressive,"
only you and he know his real thinking,
and his muscle memories secret,
you to keep, just between us,
and his secret identity, only love poetry...

8:52pm 7/20/17
Tommy Randell Mar 2017
3 Walking the path
2 Is not being the path
1 Ready Aim Fire!
Nicholas N Jul 2017
The black shawl-like quality
Of the nothingness
Wraps itself around everything.
A constant emptiness
That makes all full.
Its veins run blue
And gold and scarlet
And every hue between,
It dies as it arises.

The nothingness embraces all,
Easily, it encases me.
In everything and anything.
And that which I lack
I supplement with hope.
A chain mail lie linked
With fragile expectations
Of love and other drugs,
Other falsifications.

This tapestry holds whispers,
Secrets and blueprints
To all of creation.
Globes of dying light
That crash in the dark.
But alas I can see
Its stars are not cross'd
For me [cue tears],
I fear my script is lost.

Perhaps when the dopamine
Corrodes and rots my brain,
My soul will take the reins.
Connected to the cosmos
It tells me everything,
But yea, it shows me nothing
Except tantalising flashes
Of what could be,
In its swirls of red and azure.
Craig Ha Sep 10
Be still, my racing mind
Aim to be benevolent and kind
And everything will work out in time.


Try my music:
Christian Bixler Feb 2017
In walking down the
Sunlit paths, through
The young trees and
The old, through the
Dark vine and the
Flowered stem--my
Eyes see the road of
My passing; yet my
Mind stumbles in
The forwards sea:
The present passes
Over me.
Tommy Randell Oct 2017
Look Up
Look Around
Be Clear
These is no need
To be found
You're Here!
Sometimes in life there are moments
of pure clarity
MJL Apr 2
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley
In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning
Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance
As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace
Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment
Protected by the hooded one
Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons
Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction
The wheel of time
Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water
Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth
And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La
Nature's peace
Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death
Butterflies are born again
Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness
Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom
Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon
Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons
A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar
Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove
Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey
In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars
They meditate under the Bodhi Tree
Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin
Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again
Young, then old, and then young once more
Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West
Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony
Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns
For six years the caterpillar eats of fig
And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time
Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings
Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance
Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays
As they rise, then set, and then rise again
Beyond our Lost Horizon

© 2019 MJL
I loved the 1939 movie, Lost Horizon, and it's story of Shangri-La. It drove some interest in reading about Buddhism... Could we be butterflies reborn? How wonderful that would be... Young then old, then young again. All at once nature and man, one with our universe. Those who seek wisdom find salvation... The caterpillar here is a beggar who finds ascension. Cycles represent the wings flapping. There are also references to universal religious themes.
Carter Ginter Jun 2018
Breathe in
Breathe out
I feel the presence of the universe
Sitting silently
Legs crossed
I am exactly where I am meant to be
Pure energy enters
The negativity flows away
Slowly breaking away my anxiety
Damian Murphy Aug 2018
Though my friends may be but few
Many have not friends so true;
What counts is not the amount
But those on whom one can count.
Usually when I breathe
I never notice
But when I Breath
Air I must
Is cool too
Marla Apr 10
The absurd
is no more obscene
than the mundane
to the mind
that Rejects sanity

As a moral construct.
Seanathon May 2018
This is the wind born
As it wimpers through the trees
A willful whisper
Midst the meadow mindfulness
Willing it will ever be
To do what? To whisper in your ear of course. (:
Concern harbours within my blood cells,
My veins
My arteries
And my capillaries.

Concern is sorrowful.
Concern tries to urge me.

She persists I should watch out for my friend.

Concern and her lovely, brown hair..
Which is scented with sandalwood.

Concern reminds me to care for my friend.
To watch out for her again.

Concern embraces me,
And envelops me with love.

Altogether with her gentle,
cotton-like voice.
Written after some short mindfulness with smooth, chilled jazz.
thelemonpolice Jul 2018
I look back at my pictures
I look back at my friends
I look back to the people
I'm trying to mend  

I have a voice
I have a brain
and self doubt
in my veins

And if I look back enough
Maybe there's something I can change

Maybe If I plan ahead
And use whatever I've learnt
To path my road hereon out
Maybe I won't get as burnt

Maybe if I stop and think about
All I need to change
Then I will magically
advance in this game

But am I even a player
I didn't sign up for this
I didn't create my username
Or password
Or click

Who designed all these levels?
And who has made up these rules?
Maybe if I hack the interface
I'll show them all as fools

And no one really quite knows
What on earth is going on
And no amount of looking back or fourth
Will stop where you are.
Damian Murphy Jan 22
Life can exact a heavy toll
Unless you pay heed to your whole;
Your mind, your body and your soul!
Relax, begin to Imagine you are in the proximity
to immerse yourself into a precious moment.
It is that needed time you have brought into being, and is intrinsic
to experience composure, equanimity.
Smooth - melodic - ambient music with simple cause,
low and soft will, in its incipiency invalidate
trending previous troublesome thoughts,
silkily, sauntering, lingeringly pauses,
to softly embrace your audible senses
with silence which conveys complete assurance,
that the here and now is yours, no-one elses,
ataraxia created by you, for your true inner self,
It continues; envelops remaining unsettled interruption
embraces the heart, and encourages serenity,
all the remaining negative, solicitous intellection
are temporarily, tipped out of your consciousness,
you are experiencing them leave, then transcended
with blissful tranquillity for your indulgence.
You are asleep with your eyes open, it feels so benefic,
the mind is calm and clear no longer confused.
Melodious sound continues to provide atmospheric
momentum to this sensibility folding into the soul.
Joyfully you are enduring moments of pure inner solitude and
wrapped in perfect peace, consciousness uncommitted.
There is no expectation of time, not at all
just the psyche drifting, changing shape, density, profundity.
You feel wonderfully restituted, calmed; uplifted.
You sense it, knowing, this absence of tension you sought,
this, your perfect you, is transient and will slowly begin to regress, reluctantly,
relinquishing this blissfully serene, conditioned emotional stillness, to be restored.

Then you turn the telly on!     All gone.

Michael C Crowder        March 5th 2019
the power of clearing one's mind, so reality erases the experiences
You are the surfer
You are not the waves
You are seperate
You are not the sea


My music:
Damian Murphy Jul 2018
From others one may seek advice
In moments of doubt,
Though oft' it is ones inner voice
That one should hear out.

Perchance we only seek advice
When we know within
The answer is the hardest choice;
Not to our liking?
Colten Sorrells Dec 2018
in the now,
my feet are planted
so I don’t take my time for granted

I breathe new life
as my expression
and passions have been resurrected

so energized
restored, I sit
my inner fire has been lit

and in my heart,
the fires rage
expelling darkness in my way

now vibrations
in my throat
are of a much more pleasing tone

an open doorway
to my mind
now calmly rests between my eyes

and straight from source
a light shines down
it’s energies into my crown

all systems go
transfer complete
now I can take on anything
“Meditate. Let the light of the heart engulf you.”

annh Jan 25
breeze on the water
leaves my stillness undisturbed
moves my reflection
A 5-7-5 poem.
Martin Dove Oct 2018
Having these thoughts
we do not stand by
They shoot into consciousness
and simply ride by
They have a life of their own
we are just an observing agent
Living the life that they form.

Oh, i wish we could hold on to each one
like a deck of cards
Sort through the old annoying ones
keep living with just the good and pleasant ones
We could play them with perfect control and authority
Make the best decisions -
Life would follow accordingly.

Sadly it's not at all that simple
as i’m sure we all know
If you think that it’s different
well, we can have a go
It's true! We are more than passive pieces of debris
Even plankton make micro adjustments in the current it inhabits
Unfortunately, this does not necessarily mean there is meaning in the movements
RK Apr 2016
My mind could never leave me to be.
It was always too busy making plans.
Plans to distract me from myself.
No matter where I went or how much money I spent,
the harsh questioning returned with me.

To the place of discontent...

Processing things with my mind, less,  I moved slowly, watching the progress. Desiring less, noticing a little more rest, a softening.  

A type of  mindfulness...

Leaving the mind alone, and I spoke to my soul softly.
My heart warmed to the gentle caress, liked the peace, 


filled me more,
with less..

It's called blessed.
There is a question often asked
What is my writing for, what is its task?
I have said as a throwaway tease
It does what it does, then takes its ease.

At other times I must admit
I ponder too, on what is the point of it.
But then, is it possible for a cloud to know
What lightning is, or where rain goes?
Dear God I’m overcome.
I know no other way.
I’ve heard it works for some,
So finally I’ll pray.

No reason to rejoice;
I have so many needs.
So God, just hear my voice,
And please ignore my deeds.

I’ve never asked for much,
Or anything at all,
But my issues are such,
It’s You I need to call.

I pray for better health
(My back is always sore),
And if I had more wealth,
I’d probably pray more.

If you could help my son
To make the soccer team,
It would help him a ton
To realize his dream.

So what else should I seek?
I’ve never prayed before.
If I sincerely speak,
Then You just give me more?

To pray this easily…
I’m not sure what I mean…
Is prayer supposed to be
Like a vending machine?

God, forget what I said.
This prayer is not the best.
I need You in my head
To make any request.

I should not seek Your grant,
Without seeking Your grace.
The unrepentant can’t
Come to a holy place.

I think You’re there to find.
I feel I’m on my own.
So let me clear my mind
As I approach Your throne.

I want to try again
But this time not for me.
Your concern is for man.
Prayers not for “I” but “we.”

If You send the world peace,
Our needs are not a must.
Give our ego release,
And please just grant us trust.

You’ve seen this mortal man,
And things I never saw.
Whatever is Your plan,
I’m humble and in awe.

The act of prayer itself,
If prayer is to be true,
Will purify the self
To feel closer to You.

I don’t pray to save me.
If my sins You forgave,
Then I pray just to be
Worthy of being saved.
Poetic reflection on the statement of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, "“The primary purpose of prayer is not to make requests. The primary purpose is to praise, to sing, to chant. Because the essence of prayer is a song, and man cannot live without a song. Prayer may not save us. But prayer may make us worthy of being saved.”

Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at
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Damian Murphy Feb 23
What they see is my public face;
What I want them to see only.
Much more lies below the surface
Known only to those dear to me.
The real me, if they look closely,
Lies hidden in my poetry.
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