he who beholds the light within all the time
whose perception is undifferentiated
breathing in grace betwixt bliss beat’s chime
consciousness fulcrum in the void located
he who dwells in the moment free from fear
vibrant in stillness seeing God everywhere
viewing life as a dream which will disappear
dwelling in the heart as awareness self-aware
he who knows without doubt he is not body-mind
viewing organic form as an earth life interface
flame of bliss magnetism divine aligned
flowing orientation being release and embrace
he who feels from God and existence no distance
empowered with the power of bilocation
within whom there remains no shred of resistance
always remaining immersed in meditation
Brilliant it blossoms,
Struggle and cry out for help.
Shattered,
But alive.
Willingness forgotten,
Try to huddle as would a whelp.
I'm not flattered,
But I survived.
Killing season,
More losses,
Mother may not recognise my yelp.
Not everyone has heard,
Feels like everyone scattered,
I conceded to the night cries.
Yes, you can see the sky
When you alive.
You sees the colours of sky that
may, reminds of the chapter of life.
Sometimes you are sad and cry!
And it rains from the sky. Please!!
Notice, sky not may beautiful by it’s won
So.. Why your life would be cool without deeds?
Ofcourse, it has no end. But you have!
Decorate your life as the sky does with clouds,sunlight, birds.. If sky tolerate the pollution, thunders.. Why can't you?
Anything you do, but at last..
You will be a little star of Nights sky.
am i alive?
what classifies something as alive?
respiration
i am breathing
but just barely
trying to capture any air i can between sobs
growth
i am growing
it becomes increasingly difficult
recognizing myself in the mirror every day
and believing the next age i'm turning
excretion
i am excreting
i sweat when i do pretty much anything
even though i'm always cold
is there something wrong with me?
or am i just overthinking again?
reproduction
i am not reproducing
i can
but i'm not sure i want to
i wouldn't be a good mom
i'm worried i'd be too much like my own
metabolism
i am metabolizing
i always claimed it to be fast but maybe
it's since it doesn't have much to work with
movement
i am moving
my body does it without me knowing
or being conscious
it just moves
response to stimuli
i am responding
i respond too much
too dramatically
too sensitively
i fit all the criteria
so i guess i am alive
i'm just not living
"Though all have endless love within, many feel they have none until external love shows as fantasies contend." ~~ Poet
I thought I knew love’s emotional pallet,
then you gathered me in passions ballad
and my sureness tossed in kinetic transport.
In your embrace, all I knew became unglued.
Such an amazing, glorious sensation
increased its revelation because your known
was equally thrown, richly altered just as my own.
Times like now, our desires seek declaration
from our mutual flames celebration
of romantic love we both hold as a blessing.
You say our love is so tenderly strong, it is truly poetic.
Tonight, as your lips tantalize mine until intoxicated,
the entire world fades away unrealized ~
only we exist inside a shared bliss that enthralls.
Again, and once more, I always seek your lips for kisses
I adore while wishing all were reality, not my fantasies
creating a sedating escape from the unrequited
love I am always bleeding. It is silent kisses
and all my other pretendings that keep
what never started from
ever ending.
I’m grateful while living in a country so riddled with guns
where random people and school children are killed every day…
Where we send thoughts and prayers then try quickly to forget…
That I am still alive…and haven’t been gunned down…yet.
Being Alive
Miracle Man
1/1/2025
On January first of two thousand seventeen,
God reclaimed me from death’s certain throes.
Three days prior it was “The Widow Maker’s” scene,
with Sudden Cardiac Arrest both lay apposed.
Now, I celebrate New Years Day for being alive,
I was only the vessel that brought glory to HIM.
Memory of twenty three hospital days I revive,
drinking from a cup always filled to the brim.
The doctors had said they couldn’t explain it,
that a miracle took place in my life that day.
So with ink this day my testimony I transmit,
now eight years later my mind chooses to replay.
First the “Widow Maker” then Sudden Cardiac Arrest,
Each New Years Day I celebrate life and this test.
So many murders it's overkill
but no one cares on Capitol Hill
and some are less concerned
it seems to me
with the killing of the living
(whose taxes pay the wages of sin)
to each U.S. Supreme Court employee
than that of the unborn
or perhaps I should be more forgiving
tho' lives are broken they remain unspoken
on the Washington White House South Lawn
but when someone says,
'Guns don't kill people, people do,'
it drives me to vexation
as I've never heard someone died
of a drive-by strangulation
Have you?
We’re seeded as one, polarised as two,
hatched from the cosmic egg, then truly born,
feeling in heart, each and every bliss hue,
that thus in timeless time ego is shorn,
whence light of Self is the glow we adorn.
Having been, seen and so known who we are,
eternal light, shining like the North Star,
what’s imbibed must be assimilated,
else we’ll continue playing below par,
feeling as yet from God separated.
Unbroken awareness of light of Self,
seeing God in all objects manifest,
no residual desires on our shelf,
in midst of movement, poised always at rest,
vagaries of fate laughed off in light jest,
the liberated soul always feels whole,
as a non-doer in his ordained role,
radiating love and light at all times,
holding firm focus thus, his only goal,
heart’s rapture rising betwixt bliss beat’s chimes.
The meadow comes alive, dressed in colors,
remembering times when love was newly sweet,
with warm red sunsets embracing lovers
whispering old secrets without conceit,
while daisies dance in the balmy breezes,
and bluebells sing their gladsome summer songs;
wild grass beneath the lovers boldly teases
now or never, love must win before the dawn
of a new day with rules of etiquette
that keeps every role of life in order-
poor and rich and all who are relevant-
to live and work beneath the feudal arbor.
The golden rays of sunset say to run
before your new-found love can be undone!
Loitering around at the expense
of my parents back,
I too wish to be at the resemblance
of hardworking thumbs,
those same fingers that sewed
the futile grounds back home,
my mother’s yuca farm,
my father's dying crops,
dance taking their final
waltz with the tumble-
weeds in direction
where my ancestors
sleep while their bones
continue
to prosper,
their voices evoke
within the breeze
that had asked
for generational appeal
to the heavens that took
their last breath,
“My body crisp
at the sight of the sun,
my mind wavers as my heart
knows endless
bounties of weeds,
twisting,
turning,
suffocating,
all of life beneath
our breaths,
Yet The Night is upon us,
offering eternal rest as
mercy has finally reached
it's limits, a new vision
begins alongside
the Golden
thread of Youth,
a soul that marked
a beginning and now
an end.”
All that's left withered
away as each ancestor
departs,
my parents left their grounds,
the vibrancy of life dried
up leaving no generations
behind,
My Youth became
their bodies and my life
framed forever in each
era of my ancestors.
I love you both with all my heart,
But Mum, you tore that love apart.
You made me choose, you made me cry,
While Dad was left to wonder why.
You spoke of him with poisoned tongue,
Bad words for ears still far too young.
You painted him in shades of wrong,
And made me feel I don’t belong.
He wasn’t perfect, neither are you,
But love should never be cut in two.
You didn’t let me have my say,
You slowly pushed him far away.
I grieved a man who didn’t die,
He lived, he waited, I wondered why.
You shut him out without a trace,
And left a space I couldn’t replace.
I missed his voice, his laugh, his face,
I missed the way he held me safe.
And though he lived, it felt the same
As if he’d gone and I was to blame.
Let children love, don’t make them choose,
It’s not a game, it’s hearts you lose.
By David S Bailey
29th May 2025
I wondered to watch the eccentric earth, Are you a green globe of the universe, Mighty mountains are your born head from birth, Sun and moon are your eyes says poet in verse.
You wear rivers as ornaments as worth, Forests are controlled by the beloved nurse, Decorate with lakhs of plants, you give mirth, And you have millions fauna of diverse.
Volcanoes are the design of the earth, Are you always changing by the worst curse?, And adjust to human alive like berth, You are not owned to fellow people purse.
Humankind belongs to the mother earth, Save the life of our future universe.
The best thing about waking up
is not the coffee in our cup
warming the cockles
I'd impart
from the bottom of our heart
it's knowing we survived
to see another day arrived
no matter what may come our way
as being late
when we're done and gone
is far too harsh to contemplate
so smell the flavour
savour the roast
and of our time here on earth
before we're toast
let's not forget to make the most
When i’m gone
They’ll all have moved on
I'm already a ghost
Haunting over the life id already lost
They’ve never saw me turn into a adult
I moved too fast
When i lost so young when i was gone i my tears taste like salt
I knew id never last
I sat waiting for god wondering why he’s running late
I stood waiting for love
When it came it was a shock now i understand my wait
He was always there watching from above
I may not be alive
but i have my family so i'm happy as i know how to be
watch my ghost thrive
Sacrifice, Strength, silence, and safety is what my closest taught me
For my mother who is caring, for my mother who is strong
For my sister who taught me everything for my cousins who beat me till i was strong, i missed them when i moved on
For my brother who taught me how to take love for the one who taught me me how to let go when their gone
For my father, who may one day choose me over his bong
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