Hear the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul
The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.
Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize
An ancient rage begins to flare
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.
I AM A BIRD!
In deep thought
About things of
I wonder aloud
Solutions not clear
Which is always
Tied to many
I stop now—
And look heavenward
Choices are difficult
I’m staying focused.
Use my intuition
Request divine help
Take your pick
My soul’s focus
First and foremost
God speaks silently
Do it now!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 27, 2015) (Accentual Meter)
Heaven’s light source pure
Radiated light-years beyond
Man’s conscious knowledge
And cosmic understanding.
Various brilliant streetlights
Of the universe charting
Courses through stretches
Of eternal darkness deep.
God keeps this Starlight
True to his very word
For when darkness wins
The keys of enlightenment
Fall prisoner to Lucifer
Who controls them for
His advantage over Man
At odds always with God.
Starlight reflects the way
For mankind’s quest in
Seeking ethereal guidance
And spiritual illumination.
This heavenly pure light
Keeps mankind on track
Despite Lucifer’s intrigues
To do just the opposite.
Man’s Earth time is short
And his date with destiny
Finds his fate held in the
Balance of God’s Hands.
But there is always the
Chance to ask God for
His advice and help—then
Waiting for the answer.
And God’s answer is
Coming in different ways
And—at the end, Salvation
Is granted by the act of God.
Being in God’s arms and
Looking back the way Man
Came reflects that everything
Was part of God’s divine purpose.
God’s grace and protection
On each and every one of the
Stones on the way and back
Was part of God’s divine plan.
At the end it turns out that
Everything was planned
From the very beginning
By you and God together.
The godly part created in
Man is the divine guidance
Which brings everybody
Back into the arms of God.
Now being in conscious awareness
Of God’s plans and creation,
Man can enjoy with inner peace the
Starlight—Heaven’s light source!
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman,
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 30, 2015) (Unrhymed Quatrain)
A magical and most wonderful creature of times old,
With a holy soul filled with love and a heart of gold.
Harmony, peace, and love pervade her very essence,
And they define all that is good and grand in her presence.
She loves poets, musicians, and all of us who so often dream,
And visits us all in ethereal visions on a radiant light beam.
This Valentine’s Unicorn is a precious bearer of purest love,
Who possesses angelic power from the very Heavens above.
She lives in our hearts and souls as an enchanted dream,
And shares her love and trust with us all as we dream.
She shares our dreams past, present, and future—
And shall always be a spirit of majestic love in our future.
On Valentine’s Day her love is felt on Earth and in Heaven above,
As she sends us harmony, peace, and love on the wings of a dove!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (February 9, 2015)
I rode a star to catch a cloud,
which told me, how the sky was made.
The magic wand that birthed it, sang it into being;
each note, danced it into place.
From one lone star, there arose Gaia’s precious face;
her fertile womb, delivered me, into life’s embrace.
Miraculous are the heavens; the siblings of her kind;
how they swirl and twirl; a square dance, in the never ending sky.
When I gaze upon them; telescoping eye does find,
that these celestial wonders, enjoy watching my own kind.
The faces looking back at me; I feel within my chest;
are no less special than I am; we’re all Gods personal best.
Now you may think that stars, are much different than we folk,
but upon you is the greatest, of all the cosmic jokes.
All of life is energy; the planets are no less.
Like us, they were all thought into being; just made manifest.
The breath of God, is in us all; plant, animal and rock.
There is no such thing as time; no ticking, cosmic clock.
Perception’s an adventure; whatever you perceive;
be sure your mind stays open and miracles, you will see.
Just leap upon a star and ride; it can take you anywhere.
Infinity is wondrous; you’ll forget all your cares.
Come taste of the ambrosia and satisfy your nose,
with scents of sapphire and ruby; your senses will be transposed!
I do not know?
If Brahma is Brahma I also am Brahma,
then why am I wandering on a not real way
holding something I don’t know in my hand?
I can lead my life toward good
because everything is Brahma, but I can live
an evil life as well because everything comes from my ego.
If Brahma is Brahma I can cross over the ego
bury myself in meditation,
though it may be a lonely
and a trying way.
Gather ashes from six* burnt senses
and walk on the nonexistent way
because I am a naught substance,
though to be in a mode to attain spiritual awakening,
my ego, stands in the middle of good and evil
unable me to shake off tenacious carnal desire,
it compels me to keep walking on the path of evil passions
and if the terminal goal of life’s never ending circle is
an attainment of spiritual awakening,
and spiritual awakening is to walk in light,
the brightness is the way;
however, paradoxical, in a sense, is also true
stupidity and ignorance though lay in the darkness,
it may also be the way. Yet, the problem of life is
still laying under my foot; and that is the chain of anguish
which would never, ever, be cut off;
I, therefore, collapse on the way
while dragging the chain of a great weight
it may be the end of anguish, a knot of a life’s circle,
or a moment of a pause in the ever changing world,
or it may well be a renewed life in Faramita the world of Paradise,
or the beginning of another anguish in the transmigration of the soul,
and that’s why I believe the nonexistent substance is the way
to Brahma which is one same substance.
Tat tvam asi, I am the Brahma
Tat tvam asi, That art thou
*Six senses: five basic physical senses plus soul or intellect.
I do not know?
—Brahma eva idam visvam(1)—
A life neither has beginning because beginning is Brahma
or end because end is Brahma, it rides on a wagon named Karma(2)
and goes as a wheel whirls.
I came to this very spot becoming a sun, a moon and the stars
following the stream which carries anguish, and one day
I must cross; since it’s impossible to see the past because
there is no beginning or end, I wonder how to manage a day
when everything changes without beginning or end;
I came this far becoming a sun, a moon and the stars
and wandering in a wasteland looking at the bridge
In this barren soil:
though flowers bloom, they smell of death
that tempts to ruin me;
though there is a spring,
it’s bubbling sand seen in a mirage to intensify my thirst;
though there are fruit bearing trees,
the taste of fruit is more bitter than Eden’s forbidden fruit;
though there are snows,
they come as a blizzard and pierce the skin to tear it to pieces.
Since Brahma is on the other side of Elysium
no matter how much you wander in this boundless barren land,
though it may seems within hand’s reach, you would never be able
to touch; because your anguish, the reality of life is nothing more than
pursuing a pain, a spinning of a wheel of Karma.
Although my body is worn out
I have no place to lay my body down;
although my wounded soul is wailing
no place to bury my soul to rest,
and if this is my Karma to be accepted,
how do I untie these entangled knots of anxiety.
I exist, therefore my six(3) senses feel and perceive reasons,
then, how do I denounce this Sabba,(4) or deliver from suffering,
for that is the reason I exist.
All phenomena, however, to undergo everyone as Atman(5)
carrying their own Karma, because Brahma is everything
and Karma is the footmarks of ever changing mundane world.
1. Brahma eva idam visvam: Brahman, indeed, is this world-all. 2. Karma: destiny.
3. Six Senses: five basic physical senses plus soul or intellect. 4. Sabba: this world.
5. Atman: soul, ego, or I.
The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.
From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're seeing,
To everything out of sight.
The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.
The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred ring.
Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Who can hear, the mornings call?
The dead dove's body, as it des fall.
Who can see through, the dead man's eyes?
As the burning sun, falls from the skies.
What once was new, has now become old,
What once was alive, has now become cold,
What you believed, was worth a lot,
Is burnt to ashes, in the melting pot.
Let's start again, I hear them say,
Let's start again, another day,
Let's make again, what we made before,
Spill more blood, on the kitchen floor,
Lift the cross, up on the hill,
Load the guns, to fight and kill.
Fight and slaughter, till there's non one left,
Till your mind is empty, your heart is deaf,
You thought that, I was a soldier too,
You thought that I said, I love you,
But I tell you now, and I tell it true,
The angles of heaven, and the angels of hell,
Are riding now, to the ring of deaths bell.
What you thought, was silver and gold,
Are ashes and dust, on the open road,
What you knew was good, what you knew was true,
The hot sun has dried, like the morning dew,
The very memory, of hope and despair,
Is lost in the hole, of your soul laid bare.
The empty hole, behind the clouds,
The music and the laughing crowds,
Are dead and gone, have faded away,
As a new sun rises, on a bright new day,
I tell you now, and I tell you true,
As the hammer of me hits the anvil of you
" I Am MoonBee ... "
( Matt. 5: 14 - 16 )
I Am The Full Moon Rising
... and The Faithful Bee That Stings
I Bear The Sweet Drops of Honey
and Wear Lunar-Eclipses' Rings ...
... and once in a blue moon
or in the final moon of blood
I will wax and than wane
... and ride tidal waves to floods
( Acts 2: 17-20, 21 )
I Am The Silvery Moon
That Makes Night Oceans Gleam
... and The Bee Upon The Blossoms
In Seasons of Summer and Spring ...
... and once in a harvest moon
glowing generous and golden
I gather gardens, like bees
storing & spreading nectar-pollen
Yet As The Full Moon Rises
and As The Bee Soars & Stings
The Brave, Little Bee Prepares To Die
As Moon Despairs Behind Cloud-Screens ...
... and Peeks Out As A Half-Moon
Yet - Still, Busy As A Bee
Still Reflecting Light & Truth
As Pure & Sweet As Fresh Honey ...
I Am The Crescent-Shape Moon
and The Bee's Honeycomb
and The Heart-Chamber of My Hive
Holds Moons 'Neath Heaven's Throne ...
I Am The Halo-Spotted Moon
and The Sound of Humming Bees
In Prayer-Swarms of Sacred Songs
I Declare In Moonlit-Melodies ...
... and once by a midnight moon
in marching scenes of sky
set as signs & times & cycles
& measure-symbols for earthkind's eyes
( Gen. 1: 14-18 )
I Am The Full Moon Rising
Yet Falling Softly Upon Seas
That Care & Colonize Like Bees
& Bear Messages of Great Kings ...
( Matt. 28: 18, 19, 20 )
... and once in a hunter's moon
in shades of yellow and black
there shone glimpses of paths & visions
where moon kept sight & tracks
I've A Luminary Lamp
Like The Moon In Full Glory
I've A Duty To People & Purpose
Like A Queen Bee's Story ...
I Am The Full Moon Rising
... and The Faithful Bee That Stings
Yet, I Share Much Healing Honey
and Bear Many, Bright Moonbeams ...
- for I am the devout MoonBee
pollinating & polishing dreams -
Written & Copyrighted ©: 5/22/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
a leaf fallen...
a leaf fallen to the ground cannot be placed back upon the branches of the tree...
a leaf fallen is separated from the nourishment of the trunk or the roots...
a leaf fallen can never be what it once was as it dries up and lies separated from its main source of energy...
its edges curled and the moisture being drawn like water from a well...
a leaf fallen is tossed and turned and blows with no direction from the wind...
it has no control over its destination...
it lies lifeless and abandoned, crunchy, and beneath the feet of the enemy...
a leaf fallen...
Cycling through time;
this wrack of flesh fleets on.
Spinning indifferently on a compressed
ball of mud.
Pulsing and thumping against
the deafening destiny of becoming
a part of what it was spat unto.
Sipping the blood of my father,
The wine of revelation is an
acquired taste and so I tend
to use it for marinating my
I pray alongside songs of my peers,
and hope I can stand the flames
I am sure to meet;
This world is full of fire,
and I am it’s smoke
accumulating under blankets
held by my ancestors.
I am their story.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
I first met Autumn when I was very, very young,
she was just a shy, quiet girl, but so very bright.
These maple trees were our favorite to play among,
as our laughter faded away with the falling sunlight.
I can still see her brown sweater, and reddish-orange hair,
blowing around her smiling face, like a flickering flame.
Her innocent voice still whispers on October's cool air,
near the place, where our lonely swing remains the same.
As the summer days said goodbye, and welcomed September,
the death of my dear, young friend came all too soon.
Autumn was one of those whom you'd always remember,
her soul was as beautiful as the shining, harvest moon.
She was here, then gone, leaving words that were never spoke,
to this day, I have never understood why Autumn had to leave.
Her presence lingers on the wind, like drifting wood-smoke,
as once a year, her playful spirit arises on All Hallow's Eve.
August, 4th, 2014
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played,
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A lonely path,
I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,
So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth,
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.
Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.
I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.
The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.
The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.
So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.
That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.
The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.
more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
My work is over time to head on home
Made lots of money trading stocks on-line
I told my secretary she could leave
Askance my traders quid pro quo was fine
I entered elevator floor nine-teen
Pushed ground floor button number one then saw
Another door to lift laid opposite
Impossible, turned ready to withdraw
The Devil's Minion
Unable to escape the way I came
The capsule doors on other side agaze
Was drawn out by a large, dark silhouette
Inside a narthex three closed doors ablaze
I listened to malefic force within
Effulgent scuttles have distracted me
With ears submitting to an evil force
On knees established I forlornly see
The devil's minion utters chilling words
“You worldly man you face deserving death”
“You will be given one last stabbing choice”
“You get to choose a door with your last breath”
If there's a god I pray you save my soul
The dark and eldritch spirit yield a laugh
He said “each door is named must pick one now”
“Not fair” I said, he showed me golden calf
Door number one depicted the word ME
Door number two was written the word YOU
Door number three aglow with the word HIM
“What in the hell am I supposed to do ?
I looked at evil spirit's saber drawn
With my last breath I ran to a new dawn
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Blinding light of whitest white;
burns upon the darkest night.
Celestial waves in sunlight beams;
across Mother Moons, radiant scenes.
Against a back drop of darkest night;
you fill me up with fiery life.
No song’s unsung; no job’s undone;
two become one, ‘neath moon and sun.
Like heat on metal, winged waves in flight;
celestial light, is eternal delight.
Entered: Burning Daylight - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Life's a show,
So when it ends,
We all have to let go.
The Rose innocent white, soft pink, yellows
colors touch your soul vibrant red to amethyst
enhances beauty yet a thorn awaits to break skin
as life does piercing your heart with a thin pin.
My life has shed drops of blood through each petal
as if in return for the love and beauty you feel
hence pain underneath patiently waits the bloodletting ~
The rose symbolizes love yet vulnerable to hold
for when you open your heart it can be left bleeding
The best of surgeons can not beat your heart
It is the inner faith and God himself whom gives strength
whispers in your ear you shall live you will exist
your life meaningful as the water and sun to the rose
For I am your God your existence is not over yet .
You must Live ~You must Bloom
There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home
Bryant’s Necropolis Conceit
Silent halls of death so cometh
William Cullen Bryant
Thanatopsis supremeus now
A sepulchre awaits us all.
Dour darkness and shroud forever
The spirit world so beckons us
We all shall so wither and fall.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 15, 2015) (Double Dactyl)
You were a shining Star.
Few of many in the sky.
Looking up so very high,
Not knowing why you are.
Close and set you are far.
Spinning flames knot a tie,
I note a pattern just like pi.
Colliding with me you spar.
So burn it up and burn away,
Sow your heart upon a plane.
Chart your distance in the clay.
Burn it all up then call it sane.
The explosion in the sky is His death.
All burned up He has no last breath.
(R) Registered: 2013 Ann Rich
He spends his nights cold, and full of desperate wonder. Pondering time; and his place amidst the infinite mass around him. For as he pleads for his eye lids to fall, he knows the planet he inhabits
is doing just that: falling. Spinning into nothing. “Where am I going?” He thinks. “Do I even care?”. His lids finally give in and he becomes lost in dreams of “what may, or may not be”.
At times he becomes sullen and afraid; others he feels an unexplainable nirvana that he's never been able to fully grasp.
Infinity has that effect on the mortal I suppose. And, with a mind perpetually tossing hypothetical wisdom and theoretical truths; He watches his shadow twinge away from the light that he is compelled to follow. And his soul dances in a state of disenchantment, trying to find rhythm in a world of chaos.
All the while his tongue searches through sour notes and intimate whispers, his minds lays still on the fading memory of innocence and unconditional love. Savoring the serenity of spellbound grace and relentless joy; something to be missed by a sinner's palate.
What is a boy to do?
He finds himself rowing the challenges of a man in a world that favors the strong. And yet, his trembling arms seek nothing resembling operative strength. He seeks only love, and finds comfort in the idea potrayed by his imaginative heart.
But is it real?
Or an oasis languishing before a foolish boy?
The test of a man is surely an atrocious endeavor that this young fledgling cowers beneath tonight.
His eyes journey toward the stars as his soul races to quantify the elaborate scheme poised above.
He can't help but curse the heavens, something he instantly regrets. He knows the luminous miracles beyond did not forsake his essence; It was his choices that begged for punishment.
That very thought is something to be cherished.
For its appraisal is a catalyst for his evolution.
-James Kelley 2011©
The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image