I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
fall for nothing
may stumble along the trip
may swerve at the wheel yet
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'
but when it got little
his pills became skittles
until he O.D.'d on Viagra
© ~JSLambert 2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!
I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun
I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick
I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey
Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and
awareness of inner state
peace and healing
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees
under your nose is the path of freedom
Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self
Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape
causing us to feel life in fullest expression
Connecting – whispers of wind
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now
unmoved unchanged and as we were
Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself
Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe –
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal –
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
I do not know?
O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;
While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
and strike thee common good.
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;
Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,
Fore there's no future otherwise.
I do not know?
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame
As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
How to maintain credibility
Granulated points of view, they will not pan out.
They will sift through the strain, and leave your crowd with doubt.
This is always something, you must try to avoid,
or that crowd will toss your words, right into the void.
You can say what you want, but always say what you mean.
Here is my example; I wish the sky were green.
If you’re going to make a choice, you better know what you want,
'cause if your theory has its holes, your decision's going to haunt.
First make sure that they’re sound, then free em like a bird.
Throw your thoughts into the sky, and let them all be heard.
By the people that will flock, and they have open ears,
just try not to change your vision, in a couple years.
Certain people won’t forget, and they will soon admit,
they found meaning in what you've said, so don’t you contradict.
It shouldn’t be a challenge, if you follow line 5.
The only thing you can safely say is it’s good to be alive.
Now do not get me wrong, I know your brain will grow,
Your opinions they will change, based on what you know.
And now please don’t panic, you're not a hypocrite,
As long as at the time, you believed in it.
Now if you say what you've said, just for your own sake,
You've broken fundamental rules; now give your head a shake.
It’s not about an answer, that will surely please,
You got to say what’s on your mind, if it cuts you to your knees.
And now folks, once again, like I’ve already said,
Your beliefs are going to change, like precious gems to lead.
If someone doesn’t know this, and the bastard calls you out,
You should know it doesn’t matter, that’s not what it’s about.
And if your views turn inside out, stand on your two feet,
and never speak a single word with your crosshairs on deceit.
We know that with opinion, there is no right or wrong,
Just make sure that you follow the tune of your own song.
If you manage to change a mind, this is victory,
there’s nothing quite like hearing 'em say "I guess I do agree".
This is all good advice, to everyone it applies,
If you don’t live by this you'll be caught in your own lies.
It shouldn’t be a conscious effort; it should all come by itself,
if it doesn’t than you’re liar, improve your mental health.
Every line I’ve written here is indeed a fact,
there’s no room for argument, do you agree with that?
Now I'm done, there’s my view and I have written lots,
but didn’t you listen to my poem? Get your own damn thoughts!
I do not know?
Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.
They live in a war zone, battling, absent of pause,
While seeking from within some exonerating cause;
Their existence is no more than one breath on a string,
They squint at the carnage, their war's sure to bring.
Having no distant future for the moment they exist,
All because of some substance free wills can't resist.
While their string continues their brains do so fry,
It has made drugs our problem a fact we can't deny.
I get a kick outta the writes I see,
So intellectual, how can that be?
I skipped two grades,
Was forced to take IQ tests again,
Cause no one as dumb as me,
Could possibly produce such a score, you see
Got 100% on regents exams,
Passed college entrance tests
Half drunk and dirty of dress
Cause I was up with friends
drinkin' and carousing like the rest,
And, Lord knows how, but I assure,
I aced the test, and even more,
To what was then considered
"The Poor-Man's Harvard"
I cruised through that as well,
No one was gona stop this Bell
But IQ tests, and scholastic grade,
Never has one, of a man be made
I still do get confused,
About how to wear two shoes,
My brain may be book-smart,
But comin' from the heart,
I've trusted when I really shouldn't
Was skeptical when imprudent
So here's this IQ wiz,
Don't know just who he is,
And street smart as a cat,
Caught in Dr. Zeuss's hat.
So teach your children well,
don't grow up to be like Tom Bell
Weeds in my garden they sure like to grow.
It's funny how they all seem to come in a row.
On Monday, the "Weeds of Depression" were so high. As
I plucked the last one I gave a big sigh.
Then Tuesday came and weeds peeked up from the ground.
I pulled ones of "Stress" and soon had them piled high on the ground.
Wednesday came a rushing on thru .
I said "Weeds of Grief" I'll get rid of you too !
On rolled Thursday and I wanted to sleep,
But I pulled "Weeds of Hurt" , tho’ their roots were so deep.
As I waited slowly for Friday to come,
"Worry Weeds" I would pull with my mighty green thumb.
When Saturday came, I thought I was done,
But "Sadness Weeds" stood tall in the sun.
So glad for Sunday cause it's my day of rest,
And I know all week long I had done my very best.
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.
Only light can penetrate the
that resides in the default state
I descend from beta to delta
binaural beats; instantly caught
between frequencies beyond
I absorb amplitudes of acoustic
and I learn to just be earth
Since I am the earth
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its
I've owned the power of
I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a
Created in the image of a
and a feeling from the
I tune in to this vibration from
pulse that manipulates
Immersed between 4 and 7
brainwaves halt to a conscious
All chakras are aligned shining
and now my consciousness
begins to reap!
and light begins to penetrate
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there
is now flooded with sound
that force brainwaves to submit
of omnipresent sound that
and always will be connected to
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially
physical time and space
I long to embrace the intensity
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds
that resonate from the inner
and continue to connect
through the binaural beats that
remind me of before
Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel
while reaping an abundance of
benefits and rewards
It's already yours
Just reach out and grab it
as long as intention and ego is
the universe will correspond
it will deliver a life to you divine
Just listen to the sounds that
were there from before
They will guide to to the
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect
directly with the source
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children
She smells of stale garbage and wine
Her boots all worn and tattered
Stern-faced and stony eyes
Dressed in a tired ol' mink
She shivers as she takes a rest
From pushing her metal cart
Squeaking and overflowing with
Items reflecting her life
She had been warned twice to move
The choice was not hers to make
Today, like all the others
She will walk ten blocks or so
In hope to find a warmer place
To lay down for the night
Just a corner to rest
Is all she will be needing
She knows this will be over soon
The pain gets worse each day
Yet, her hopes live on for one more day
Her deliverance is on its way!
Once in my life, breast cancer, I did not know.
Which was lost, and what would be gained.
I could not see, beyond her glow
Faith and strength carried and remained.
Unfinished things of her dreams come slow
These were not to be lost, our love holds true
Loss of her alluring game would not matter, I did say
In life and love, she is stuck to me with glue
She is more than any loss, which may take away.
Pink in October shapes her autumn sky.
More beautiful now she faces its lie.
Sunshine wakes her in a moonlights lure.
Fighting like a girl, she wins the war.
Dancing as a woman she captures pink ardor.
She is more than a woman, my lady, my love.
Pink, pink, pink color beyond her despair,
Trials and tribulations, rising glow,
She has won her fight; in the pink, breast cancers beware.
A red helium balloon
I float above myself,
Watch the ritual unfold:
Gather the sharps
Lay them out
Roll up the sleeves
Enfold the world in silence.
Then, with infinite concentration,
The Not-Me begins:
Draw the lines
Open the flesh
Let out the hot red
Pain and Poison;
Inscribe another testament
Then the balloon drifts down
Sleeves roll down
The Not-Me steps into the balloon
And floats away,
And I become myself again,
Purged and Whole
Until the next time.
I live on air
Insubstantial as the Winter's mists.
I am colorless
And blank as perfect ice, as cloudless sky
Yet I command all appetites,
Control my ghostly shape
Against all outside assault.
My Will is wind,
Invisible and Absolute.
I bend but never break.
I may be fading, fading...
But the steel rod within the mist
Shines true and will not yield.
Peel back the flesh
The flowing flesh,
And see the Void within.
I am large but I am empty,
Hollow as a gourd, a husk.
Tear me and the taut surface
Will collapse upon itself.
I hunger, ever hunger
For the things that fill others up
And keep them satisfied.
And so I eat.
I eat Love, Acceptance, Self-Confidence.
I eat Hate, Loneliness, Rejection.
I consume myself.
Who else could stomach
The taste of me?
Earths people, it is time to wake up, the ‘Prince’ is alive!
Ascension available, access through your heart
Seek and you shall find!
Time is short, personally unite, connect as one
Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with ‘our lord Jesus’ and ‘our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit
***Happy Easter Everyone***
I do not know?
Needles and strips. Feet that's sore.
Aches and pains. Meters that store.
Numbers go up. Then they go down.
Cookies and pasta and cake all around!
Daily walks. Nutritious food.
Cinnamon helps. Some herbs do.
Fenugreek, bromelain and boswellia stew.
Fish and pumpkin oils fight inflamation in you.
Drink lots of water. Alcohol's taboo.
Loose the smokes. And spare tire to!
Sweating, shaking, tingling lips.
Too much insulin can do all this.
Or don't eat enough or over exercise.
Can knock you right out. Yes even die!
Glucose tabs. Keep close at hand.
Diabetes can be so grand!......
World Toilet Day
Can you imagine not having a toilet
Or privacy when you need to pee
Unthinkable in wealthy countries
But world-wide - - REALITY
In fact one in three people
Living in this world don’t know
Access to a working toilet
Or privacy when they must go
In order to raise our awareness
World Toilet Day has been proclaimed
And November 19th was established
As the day when our thoughts should be aimed
At changing this sad situation
And this world-wide problem we beat
On this we must all stand united
Until everyone can take a seat
Back to back we are bound
Hands tied, yet we defend
A treasure quite profound
Thought highly of by men
Hands tied yet we defend
Our innocence and pride
That for many has been bent
And, some have thrown aside
Our innocence and pride
Worth more than you possess
Although daily we are tried
We are stronger than the rest
Worth more than you possess
Women own the power
Some sell it upon request
We prefer you climb the tower
Women own the power
A treasure quite profound
We prefer you climb the tower
Back to back we are bound
**I will dedicate this to my little sister when she’s a little older :-)**
~Contest: Back to Back by: Paula Swanson~
The Country District Nurse
If you listened to the gossip down the street or at the mall,
That someone had been hurt, or had a fall,
You could bet your boots that she was there
With her navy blue bag, and her hat on her hair
Right up the front with those who did care,
Giving attention, and helpful to all.
She had to get her facts right so she could tell it true
How it happened, what was where, and who was who.
Opening her pad she’d begin to write
Of all she had heard and saw at the site
She had to make sure that she recorded it right
For it could mean a lot to you.
She retired; the government said the service now not needed,
But it did not stop her giving to her district, for she heeded
Their calls, when the doctor was far away
In the city, at the clinic every day’,
He personally paid his Nurse to stay
To continue the service, unimpeded.
When she got older and with fading sight
She did not stop caring to turn wrong into right
Whether around the corner or across the park
She knew which dog was worse than its bark,
And if you weren’t home until well after dark,
She would keep her light burning all night.
Her happy cheerful nature is no longer seen in town
When they seek her for advice, she can’t be found.
Her memory remains with the children, now grown,
As if they snuffle along with a cough and a groan,
With no nursing service like the one they had known,
They drive to the clinic; city bound.
Just a twitch,
started years ago,
no one knows this burden still exists,
held deep in my soul,
only letting go when I'm alone.
The world thinks I'm crazy,
tries to dissect,
comprehend what it all means,
when the tic wants to show.
so I let it all build up,
tighten my soul,
till I just have to let it explode.
So, there are days
I just sit alone on my couch,
me and my twitch,
just letting it all out.
something I try to keep unknown.
Miracles and Miseries
The world resolved itself back into focus
As I lay amid the swarm of monitors
Still gulping the sword that brought me breath.
The worst now past
Many small miseries remained,
Chief among them the continuing mystery
Of my flooded, struggling lungs.
Finally I breathe well enough for the sword to be removed,
But the tests go on and on
The birth of each day bearing forth
Its own fresh indignity.
They give up guessing and haul me down again
To be opened anew and read for signs.
On the day this is done
The invisible agents of death outside
Decide to mock their pursuers
By leaving a tarot card at that day's shooting site.
They chose the Death card, of course
Revealing how little those
Who choose to play God games really know
About the mystical.
Dreaming of omnipotence through dealing death
The unseen assassins miss their own meaning;
For this card signals change, the ending of present things.
They have unwittingly declared their game will soon be over,
Predicting their own demise.
Meanwhile the doctors make their own spread of me
And come up blank again.
Once more I return to I.C.U.,
Held together with staples.
Once more the little agonies ensue:
The sitting, the turning, the testing.
By night they come for my blood.
By day they come for tests.
Always, in the background, the quiet moanings
Of we, the damned, condemned to medical Limbo
Roll on with the blind passage of hours and days.
The English nurse comes, all brightness and bubble
To heave my fragile self about;
She's a welcome break in the monotony
As my sustainers come and go.
Again the busy bedside conferences
And again the final admission
That all their probings have led down blind alleys.
A last-ditch effort is finally proposed:
Direct drainage of the drowning lungs.
To them this seems as a grasping at straws,
But to me it seems the one sensible solution,
And I look forward to it eagerly.
My inner mantra of "This too shall pass"
Is wearing thin.
Like a Christian martyr of old,
They pierce my back with their lance,
And the sea within that is drowning me
Finds its way out.
As the noxious waters within rush out,
Air surges into my grateful lungs.
From this moment, recovery becomes the new reality.
As I recover,
Indiscretion leads to capture
Of the unseen terrormakers.
To the astonishment of all,
They prove to be a dignified looking black man
And his enthralled protege' -
No prior convictions, no history of trouble
Attached to them at all.
This is how our modern Destroyers come calling.
Well dressed, well spoken models of propriety.
Vehemently tagging Victims
Impassively Impartial Illnesses Partake
Reveling in Recurrence and Replication
Unbarring any Understanding.....except Universal
Septum’s Of Organism’s Seeking Sinister Salvations
A VIRUS…….is no mortification
......an unforeseen deceptive disguise
Fervently Floating through our thick .....polluted skies~
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul