There is a part of me missing
There is a part of me that shall never be
Inside of this dark sad brooding mind
Is the painter who will never see
So I take my pen, and vaso of wine
I get lost in the drunkenness of time
Stooped over my own memories on a sour palette
I had the brushes staring at the naked breast
My paints were frozen, at such beauties unrest
Erect and tall, at her feet I did fall
The blind painter, who lost it all
So now you see I am a poet of some seedy sort
Painting Braille, is poetry of my last resort
I write down words with the flourish of my pen
The Braille poet, cause painting I could not fend
I take words and wish them bountiful explosive colors
If only I had talent, a painter and not a story teller
So for me, in pain and clad in the cloth of sadness
I write words, for this painter has only Braille
I have no painting brushes
I possess no smile, wandering along on wistful miles
Of blindness, blowing in the winds of the frail
No map for the future, and yet I set sail
Hoping my words one day will be seen
By an artist who paints the soul and the serene
She takes my blindness and paints boldly my dreams
Taking my words, from Braille to bright pastel creams
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
A soul was broken to make room
For dusty halls and labyrinths.
A gossamer, nylon bed-sheet shroud
Enwraps the remnants of that mind.
And no excuses can be made;
This disease does not justify that one.
I do not sleep deeply, I do not wake easily,
I dream of cities built on sand,
Next to the swelling sea.
Oh, they should have lasted.
Why should they fall?
I dream of timber horses,
Brought between those city walls.
We should have known; we should have known better.
But, I am not an honest mystic;
Beware what you ask of me.
I will show truths within the liar's tapestry.
But, you will not believe; no, you cannot believe.
I howled for my motherland
When the mutiny began.
I heard the cry of treason; heard the cry and ran.
I saw blood be spilled,
Some of it my own, then
Felt the rest boil, that this could happen in my home.
I saw the battle through, until the very end,
Then wished the traitors pardoned,
Because they were my friends.
I cannot tell the difference
Between the sleeping and the dead,
So, I will dole out blankets, and keep the kettle on.
The streets are cracked and dirty,
And they all appear the same:
Shattered glass and roofing tacks
Where I place my bare and weary feet.
I don't want to go on.
But, I must rebuild; I must rebuild.
I have no grass to lay,
The trees and flowers will not grow,
So, I shall use nothing, but mortar, brick, and stone.
It's not the same; it is not the same,
But, I shall call it home.
Copyright © Kristen Varwig | Year Posted 2010
Soft creeps the splendid dream tides of the night
The burning embers of heavens breath descends upon my dreams
Dreams of you, my love tonight
Sparkling wishes, amulet stars, a kiss goodnight.
Heart withstanding aches I dare retrace,
I am accompanied by a newfound face, an explorer’s vision
Tears of joy sprout from their jeweled wings,
Flying toward the smiling moon,
I welcome dreams…tonight, I welcome you
Where whispers trail the sleeping waters.... my love goodnight
Unending sails, hearts submerged in love's delight
Tonight I dream of you
On the rosy fields of memoirs sweet
Soft, tender breezes remind me of your crescent touch..
I curl into the swaying waters, cradled by our memory
Where once you smiled in afterthought, and I in golden reverie
Would beauty among these gentle scenes kindly draw you in?
So maybe we can share the graces of light that lives within
Soft moonlit roses, dripping in night-shined dew,
Yes, even as they close, tonight I dream of you.
Take my hand, don’t let me leave this land
For it thrives on our love’s horizon,
Draw your words upon my life, and let night take its stand
But before I sleep, my love tonight. Oh let me seal it with a kiss.
That in beauty's dream my light would float in your love's eternity.
A thousand saddest days may come, and a thousand darkest dreams
But I'll chase them all for you my love, just to have you in my dreams.
These eyes closed tightly with the rosebuds ,
Shall open before clouds, dark and awry
And in the ground, my love for you shall yet still bloom,
Fed by the healing rain, and your steady love refrain
When tonight I dream of you
-A special collaboration with poet Mustapha Mohammad-
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
Within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright
shadows twist obsidian trees torment,
the cypress writhe in blood moon’s bright delight.
The hunter hides his nascent lust for might
and so the doe flees by man’s bow unbent,
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight,
bedevil not the finer soul, repent,
the destined deed, must feed, man’s plight.
With deadly skill, fletched shaft sheers frosty night.
The horned hart does fall in wonderment,
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright.
And torment flows in drops of crimson sight,
distorting right and light with man’s intent.
The cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight
Into the holy water blood rings light
for life is all and death is but dissent,
within the forest’s dream of night’s true fright,
the cypress writhes in blood moon’s bright delight.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
I told my Hubby I needed a fountain to help the words to flow.
It seems in the shower my creative juices, really know how to go.
My Hubby says it’s because I become relaxed, in body and in mind.
That releases everything to flow with ease and in record time.
But then he stated it might also be: the water pounding on my head.
It’s beating me senseless to release the flow and to open it up, instead.
This may be true with a hard head like mine, sometimes it needs a touch.
But I think a fountain would be way more fun, and not hurt near so much.
And what would be more beautiful, than water as it’s simply cascading around.
My lovely birds could have a drink, as my barriers come tumbling down.
My Trolls could frolick and play all day in water as the sun comes beating down.
My dogs would jump to catch the droplets as they fall upon its crown.
And all I need is to get a basket to collect my wandering thoughts.
Truly nothing could be more worthwhile, no matter what the cost.
Droplets falling thru my thoughts would become a rainbow for my mind.
With a prism throwing forth-countless words, to arrange within record time.
I wish! I wish! Oh, how I wish! To bring forth this dream of so much renown.
So many words bubbling to the surface, before they’d come tumbling down.
They’d fill my mind, and fill my soul… before touching each other’s soul.
My fountain would finally be complete, as cascading words did achieve this goal.
Now I truly know, I’ll have no fountain, or any great renown.
Still I am grateful, for the few, who’ve read the words, which I have written down.
Written by Carol Eastman
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
Written in honor of Black History Month-February 2010-
I have a dream……
That there will be no more labels of “Black” or “White”
That people will come home to their families and relax at night
I have a dream……
That no one will second guess, because of my skin color, my character
That I will never in my life hear the words, “Nigger” or “Cracker"
I have a dream……
That should I marry a black woman it will be totally acceptable in society
That people of all races would not be judged by their tastes in variety
I have a dream…….
That if I have a bi-racial child he or she will be accepted by their peers
That they’ll be given an equal chance to pursue their choice of careers
I have a dream…….
That more leaders, like Dr. Martin Luther King will be raised
That the tragedy of his death would be erased
I have a dream…….
That all races will stand hand-in-hand, until the “Twelfth of Never”
That people in the world would become color- blind, forever
I have a dream……
But….this is more than a dream to me
I pray that I may awake and find these things have become reality!!!
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
Just a note
When our dreams become our life
Waking moments become haunting nightmares
Existence fades as reality runs away
By Arthur Vaso 2016
Inspired by the poem by Charmaine Chircop
Just A Note
When our dream becomes our life
Waking moments would be only
an existence of who We truly are.
By Charmaine Chircop 2016
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Down in Haiti
Far from the dream
Way on back
From the vacation scene
Lives the people
Trapped in a life
Toil and strife
From worm infested,
Starving little bellies
What would Golden
Flower think of today
The country she loved
Destroyed in such a way
(Missionary from Haiti came to visit our church yesterday. With his visit and
talk, I see solutions to problems in an instant. Something to treat the water
before the people use it, reforestation, wells in places that need them, and
proper out door facilities for areas that don't have them. Money, work, and
time is needed to carry these projects out .)
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2009
The endless time glass
where stars drop like sand and rain
Copyright © Stuart Andrew | Year Posted 2016
Imagine that you had something,
Imagine that you had.
Not knowing it would come to be,
But then you might be glad.
Yet now you think what it would do,
Yet now you wouldn't know.
Until you do you never know,
Of how you'd need to grow.
But when a dream does come by,
But when a dream might be.
You need to see what might be true,
And find reality.
Copyright © Kathryn Pinel | Year Posted 2007
In the spring I was a hungry scholar,
caged ambition chained to life's cold machines,
striving to grow more vigorous, taller,
prepared to succeed by most any means.
On the cusp of summer, I make amends,
forgiving myself for lapses and loss,
pretending the actions my being spends,
are worth something more than transient dross.
I cannot fool you if I can't convince,
myself that fair destiny holds her hand,
aloof, that somehow this game will make sense,
that I can someday take pride in my stand.
O dazzling spring, I could be anything!
O summer, how humble the anthem I sing.
14 August 2016
Copyright © James Fross | Year Posted 2016
Do you ever wonder
Why some times relationships go asunder?
What were the short comings and/or the blunder?
What caused that awesome storm to lose its thunder?
Do you ever wonder?
Did you ever dream
A dream so big, It became a theme?
A dream so rich, it reigned supreme?
A dream so proud, it bolstered your self-esteem?
Did you ever dream?
Do you ever think
In the chain of your life, what is the missing link?
How quickly that life can change in just an eyes blink?
That something big and wonderful was on the brink?
Do you ever think?
Did you ever share?
Expressed the hopes and fears you hide in there.
Speak of your imperfections and flaws, did you dare?
Feel so confused, that you could only find the answers in prayer.
Did you ever really share?
Did you ever win?
Such as the marathon from fat to thin.
Or the sport of discovering who you really are within.
The war on quitting bad habits, you begin.
Tell me, did you ever win?
Did you ever tell?
Tell that special someone, you were proud when they would excel.
Tell that you loved them no matter what, even if they fell.
That what’s important is inside, that the outside is just a shell.
Did you ever tell?
Do you ever speak?
Express the dreams and wishes that you seek.
Tell someone you thought they were special and unique.
That you were awed by their mystique.
Well, Did you ever speak?
Did you ever explore?
Move out of your comfort zone and tread on a distant shore.
Look for answers not from others, but deep within your core.
To realize that beyond what you can see, you know there is more.
I wonder, did you ever explore?
Did you ever partake?
Really experience life and not just fake.
Get in touch with and allow all your senses to wake.
To permit any and all emotions, to rumble and quake.
I ask you, did you ever partake?
Did you ever shine?
Do you share a memory with others that hinges on divine?
Can you still feel the passion that a special friendship can define?
I seek this for my future; I will plan and create my own design.
Here is my question, did you ever shine?
Copyright © Terry Benson | Year Posted 2007
I took a trip last night into my dreams
To a place that I'm sure no one has seen
The sky was black as the darkest of nights
But everything else was a spectrum of light
With no one around but still voices I hear
When all of a sudden a doorway appeared
A sign on the door said welcome, come in
And that's where the story of this journey begins
When I turned the knob and pushed open the door
I almost stepped in when I noticed no floor
I heard a voice tell me "do not be afraid"
"This is a journey of the choices you made"
"You see life is a journey that everyone takes
And your judged in this world by the choices you make
You had the choice to do wrong or right
You chose to do wrong and stand there and fight"
"So now close your eyes and enter this room
And witness events to your upcoming doom"
I shut my eyes and I walked through the air
When I looked to the left a doorway was there
I opened the door and started to scream
I wanted to wake from this terrible dream
What I saw in that room will haunt me for life
It was the bodies of my children and my beautiful wife
I screamed at the voice "why did you bring me here"
He said," it is time to face my worse fear
Now go to your family and look in their eyes"
But I couldn't move and I started to cry
Finally I walked over till I came to my son
I couldn't do anything the damage was done
I looked in his eyes and saw what he'd seen
The moment he died he was crying for me
Each child that I went to their eyes were the same
Before each one of them died they cried out my name
I couldn't take anymore so I asked," could we go"
He said," not quite yet there's something else I must show"
"You see, you left them behind when you went to jail"
"But I hadn't a choice" I stared to yell
"Then who made the choice when you committed that crime"
"So then why punish them if the fault was all mine"
"They died whenever you spun out of control
Cause you were responsible when you took on the role
Of father and husband to the family you see
That is laying before you and will no longer be"
"So what will it be the choice is on you
But remember your choices could make this come true
You have the choice to forget what you've seen
And continue your life the way that you please"
"Just remember the choices you make for yourself
Not only affect you they affect someone else
So now I shall leave you to let you decide
And I hope that all this has made you realize"
"It's not only on you when you choose the wrong road
Your family and friends have to help carry the load"
When I finally woke up I just started to grin
I was given the chance to change this journey's end
This was an actual dream that I had while sitting in jail, so I wrote it down. It isn't a very good one as far as rhythm, but I like the story and the message.
Copyright © Jeff Cornelius | Year Posted 2016
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012
My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.
Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.
There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.
Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".
The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.
My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).
"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".
People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?
Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?
Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?
How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.
Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)
Copyright © Daniel Beus | Year Posted 2012
She packed her bags one day
Left me in the dark
Running away, what a lark
I stare at the walls; life seems so bleak and stark
I wrote her love letters
Only a thousand or two
The poor old postman
Carrying them all back to my door
Return to sender was the obvious score
So I took my pen and wrote a few more
Before dousing my desires
In the illusions of folklore
Where out of the forest
On a mist filled dawn
Returned my princess
Singing our song
Alas I walk along lonely forest paths
I dream and ponder of what might have been
I look up to the heavens and demand, what was my sin?
That I am alone, surrounded in deathly silence
A second hand man
For a second hand rose
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's nothing you can do,
Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013
It's not a lesson to be taught
Or a skill to be acquired
It's the nudge to move forward
Open when the time is right
It's the spirit inside
God leading on the way
On the journey to discover
He is all you need
It's the courage to let go
Say yes instead of no
Reveal what you've been holding back
As Jesus takes the wheel
It's the realization that it doesn't matter
What others think of you
God leads you where you're meant to be
Just allow you to be you
It's the standing up to fear
Proclaiming "fear's not gonna win!"
The battle has been fought too long
Time to let the stalemate end
It's the inspiration you've been holding
For others and for yourself
The light we've been dimming
Rather than shining on His behalf
It's the spontaneity in the decision
To follow His call all the way
Discovering peace in being you
Wide open as the perfect creation you are
The world out there is brutal
But there's a Holy Man holding out His Hand
His bravery now is all we have
But His bravery of love is all we need
May God bless you!
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
A photographer dreamed
Of a telephoto lens
Capturing light waves
From beginning to end.
Since time unleashed
When the Big Bang leaped
And particles began life’s history
In swirling clouds he wondered how
He might picture a piece of the mystery.
Through polished glass converging past
Planets, stars and seas
Of swirling waves that danced and swayed
No less than windswept trees.
As he focused his dream glass
Where present meets past
And depth of field is wide;
Where the image is clear and light streaks steer,
Far away from the photographer’s eye.
With shutter speed set like a fast speed jet
Blazing through the blue-white wispy above
Turning his wings on the bird that sings
And a girl who once stole his love.
Racing through time while continuing to climb
Higher through the prism of light
His finger feathers the button below
Capturing the moment in flight.
Lingering there in pure mid-air
Like a magic carpet in the wind;
Until jolted by the sun on its morning run
While still dreaming of that telephoto lens.
Maybe today, perhaps tomorrow,
He’ll capture the illusive the beast;
The athlete who strives for the best inside
Or the homeless sleeping in the streets.
He’ll stop small birds he’s seen and heard
With their colorful feathers, breast and crown;
And children playing in autumn leaves
Scattered on the ground.
Weddings and rings, flowers in spring,
Butterflies, wistful and bright;
Pollinating bees and hives in the trees
Or a harvest moon late at night.
Meadows and mountains, free flowing fountains
Ancient temples in faraway places;
Fireworks up high on the 4th of July
Olympics and fast car races.
But now fully awakened he knows he’s mistaken
About the focal length in his dream glass;
Lens lust is a photographer’s must
But this too, he knows, must pass.
Like water flowing in the river
And wind passing through thin air;
The world he sees through his own eyes
Is a wonder beyond compare.
Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2012
Dimly lit, I sit
in a Mexican kitchen
near the Tropic of Cancer.
A TV is tuned
to inane noises;
dogs at my feet,
oranges in a bowl
on a table:
a specific place and time.
And I am dreaming --
dreaming of Louisiana
in twilight hours --
dreaming of short winter days and
summer's green, bright mornings.
Country time, mostly empty,
was quiet, seldom interrupted
by human utterance;
but my busy brain
was full of fantasy
The world was new, was big,
was yet to be explored;
possibilities seemed endless.
Oak and cypress,
willows, pines -- and magnolias --
were all around, and cane fields
stretched for miles.
The bayous that had always been there
were there still.
Change was slow in coming
and childhood lasted long.
I dream now of Louisiana:
poignant vignettes... dreamy glimpses...
all those slowly fading
of the past...
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013
A fish and a dream take place
Mind rejecting all
Day and night unfold
A fish and a dream persist
Bring opaque meanings
As I go along
A fish and a dream haunt me
Now getting clearer
A fish and a dream shed light
Quest for knowledge ends
A fish and a dream reveal
Copyright © marvin celestial | Year Posted 2015
Glitters spread all over
Seeking reflections amidst
Long lost better half
Reunite even afar
Sharing out fragments
Standing still staring
Beyond space and time searching
A spark that mislead
Now after decades
Attracting as one fellow
When moments unfold.
Copyright © marvin celestial | Year Posted 2013
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Where do dreams go if they die?
You can't put em in your pocket
You can't plant em in the sky.
And if you hide em in your heart
Then with you they'll surely die.
Where do dreams go, can they die?
When life just happens
You've fallen again and now running blind.
An unwilling combatant a greying specter
An emotional conscientious objector.
A Phoenix rising
Icarus hoping to fly
Once you dreamed so big
You almost kissed the sky.
Now all that seems like a faded picture
Faith sabotaged by doubt
A deadly elixir.
Where do dreams go when they die?
Were they actually there
Or merely a lie?
Did you dream in color or only black and white?
Were you alive when you believed?
Did you just hang on to the seed?
Or by faith let it go
Out of your control
Yet willing to still believe
That faith will let it grow.
Where did your dream go?
Is it alive
Or like a mirage in a desert
Playing a trick on your eyes?
Will you surrender to the camouflage of life?
Much like darkness tries to hide the night.
A peace treaty with deception
Void of light.
Where do dreams go when they die?
Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2014
in the basket of the mind,
like easter eggs on sunday grass,
pastel hands for slowing time.
A misty- trusting face,
just beyond the frosted glass
a spirit mare with feiry mane
that licked the heart with lips aflame
your naive face...into the frosted glass of
Good times coddled a lavender star
within a blackened space,
in place of friendly smiles without names...
they taught you the art of
forging then forgetting scars
with a silly smile,
turned a room of bitter spirits into angels
and blueberry wine...
slowly sliced their lives away.
The golden armed drummer drums the songs of dream,
ice cream trucks and noon church bells
flow into the soul like rose petals on the wind...
strumming songs of love and hatred
like streams of bile and gilded rosary...
Everything is gone now,
the flesh-the bone the bitter laughs
the metal of youth churned into the thinning cloth of age.
Things meant to live and breathe,
will give the soul to the silversmith,
who forges life into shimmering dreams.
Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012
I want to dream
Like flying across the sky
Finding out greater heights
Seeing others view of reality
And be one with the sky.
I want to dream
Swimming underneath the ocean
Searching water creatures
Fishes, clamps, and corals
Discern what their importance’s are
In our existence and health.
I want to dream
Walking underneath the ground
Exploring things that make us
Wealthy and abundant
Seeing the sources of gold, diamond
And any mineral alike.
I want to dream all my life
To enjoy everything
With my dream Self
As I always know
It’s another form of my reality.
Copyright © marvin celestial | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013