Automobiles and dwellers, both got a life.
Easy and haughty from the glimpse of sight.
Cars greet one another apprehending a horn Wading through the motion of life.
This is what one say an eye for an eye.
I, the oldest, bristled With the tales.
With ardour in each other full of faith.
Countenance on vehicles and dwellers prevails.
Awful the situation is to exhale.
Tears from the sky, Dawn from the sun.
Cry for the reaproachful Situation at burn.
Shoddy lives ,those susceptible To the nature.I feed in the glance of dreariness of the life.
It often comes as a surprise..As people acknowledge in a counter-wise.' How you
Are rejected..Yet never by God.' The pattern is ancient, and as it ever was those that reject, did as their fathers have
In their authentic rejection, of proven workers..Everyone proving God to be true
And all men liars, while the Holy Sprit is
A flame of great fire.'
authenticity
asks the soul to stand unmasked,
steady in its truest light.
truth rises gently,
shaped by what we dare to show~
the self we finally claim.
Eat your pasta primavera
off my belly
after we finish
making love
sitting up and legs
and arms shape
an arachnid out of us
'Solaris' is playing
by Mathias Frische and
Rob Landes
You set
my violin
on fire!
It is drizzling outside
which somehow
makes me crave
your 747 For Men
cologne
I don't light candles
or need soft lighting
I want to look at you
raw and taste
the salt of your
making
I am river dancing
in my head while
you look at me,
right now
Now, David's Jig
by Natalie MacMaster
is playing
She never tires,
neither do I
I want to make
another spider
together
Starfish, all sprawly and slow.
A goofy, lovable mess,
with arms that wiggle and go.
They are like two souls tangled up,
in a gentle seaweed sway.
Their slow dance with the tides,
is a sweet, sweet sway.
They don't care about fitting in.
They just chill and find their smack.
Starfish take up space on
the ocean floor with no flack.
They are not hiding anymore.
They are the ultimate rebels
in their own unique way.
Openly swimming
in the waters sway.
What Was What
Is Worth To, It
Wasn't Our Value
We We'r'nt Evaluated
Wasn't Ours. Not OURS.
I Promise It Meant --- Something.
So Insist, THEN!
Are You Having A Bluff!?
I Cast More Weapon At My Sacrificial...
I Mean? Did I That Something Auscispition Proudly!!!!
I Used To Stop Way Sooner... Oh Well.
Th... Oh Shut It Down, Or I Will.
There's STILL
Something Laughing, Just Does.
-Gray Squirrel
01-15-2026
What if it’s only a nervous breakdown if you bottleneck and bury the emotions that are trying to come through you?
That’s what causes the breakdown.
The resistance to what is,
the stopping of the process before it has an opportunity to move toward realization and resolution. What if something beautiful is actually happening within you,
something that wants to heal and move into full authenticity?
What if this is not a nervous breakdown,
but a nervous break-through,
a profound emotional cleansing,
a dissolution of the false structures that have ruled your life,
a breaking through to a more authentic state of being?
Owning Your Own Narrative
Fear not life.
Make your story. Your reality.
Make every minute count.
Don’t imagine . . . live.
Don’t borrow that TV tale.
Don’t wear someone else’s script.
Own the script.
Make your story,
the one with cracked heels and holy dust.
The one traded for bread,
but never for silence.
So what if others think about you?
Sing your song. Dance it.
The Lord has your back.
That is what counts.
The Sky came to Light, tonight.
Rumbled quietly, its might, tonight.
Soon such Truth was spilling down in
twilight rivers - washing fresh the birds, the stones.
We muddy, ragged, self-wounding Liars drowning.
Twilight rivers, taking hold by letting go.
In the newmade petrichor
we saw what we’d been before.
We each are truthsellers. We each are liars seeking Truth.
We are aging away from our birthright innocence, our youth.
Has the Sky ever lied to you?
To anyone?
Has the Earth ever offered falsity?
To anyone?
Can our breath, our step serve as Apology?
Can I be me, can you be you? Can we be true?
I love the silence between words, because when I’m talking to her,
every time she stutters, my heartbeat waits for her words to make me alive again.
Every time she looks at me, I think that maybe she’s the one.
Every time I confess my love for her, her silence between the words makes me feel important.
Was she the one, or was I just overthinking?
Those silences between the words could make me impatient,
but when she’s silent, I get to look at her tender face, her mesmerizing eyes.
That’s the time when she’s not trying to fit into the class, or trying to be someone else.
That’s the time she is what I like — she was not like us.
That’s why I loved the silence between the words — because I never got an answer from it.
I look at my soul killing its flaws. I appreciate it and let it do so. But when I came back to earth to show them a perfect human, I realized my mistakes made me who I am. Without my flaws, I am just a perfect human—but not me.
I hear again and again, of people searching for what is real,
Looking for the answers that they seek is like climbing up a hill.
Their truth and their authentic self, they seldom if ever will find,
If all they do is listen to others and never use their mind.
Based on the things I’ve seen and heard; this is my simple conclusion.
The things we observe with our physical eyes are the illusion.
The answers to all the questions we have are safely hid inside.
Thoughts that are both eternal and true always within us abide.
Each of us must follow our heart and our path we will discover,
Listen within to the voice of our soul, clues we will uncover.
Step by step, the path we will follow, trusting it is the right way.
We’ll live in the present, learn the lessons provided every day.
Should a man dare to look within?
Search secret places of hidden sin?
The lack of which could be exhilarating,
But those long loss, debilitating.
Even those revealed can be a gift,
Confession, forgiveness, they could give a lift.
Or an insight into his authenticity,
Could open his eyes that he might see.
Through the illusion, that’s led him astray,
Guiding him back to his intended way.
Leading to personal responsibility,
Helping him become all he can be.
All men have sinned, falling short of perfection,
Often frustrated by their illusionary perception.
Each morning drifts like mist—
soft, uncertain,
but somewhere in its hush,
I feel the weight
of something turning dark nearby.
I once imagined
this place would be still,
that the walls would not echo
with things unsaid.
But peace, it seems,
is not something we always share.
Patterns repeat—
whispers circling like wind in a cage.
The days loop like shadows
on the same old path,
a wheel that spins
but never arrives.
Solitude sings a softer song.
There, I breathe.
There, I unfold
without needing to bend
for anyone's gaze.
Some birds only perch
when the branch gives them fruit.
They vanish with the silence
and forget the hands
that sheltered them from the storm.
So I walk—
quietly,
gratefully,
far from noise that pretends to care.
And I hold the light
only I can carry.
"To Walk Beside You"
I met you in the silence
Between laughter and retreat,
Where fire met still water
And wild hearts dared to meet.
You saw the storm inside me
And called it too much flame,
But it’s the heat that forged my spirit,
Not a thing I’ll ever tame.
You asked for open softness,
For a love that wraps and mends,
But love is not a binding rope,
It’s where the breaking ends.
I’ll walk with you through sorrow,
I’ll hold your trembling hand,
But I won’t step out of myself
To help you understand.
You crave a safer rhythm,
A song with gentler sound,
But mine is sung in thunder,
Still sacred, still profound.
So heal, love, and I’ll witness,
I’ll be there, brave and true,
But I can only love you fully
If I’m allowed to be me too.
Not to fix, not to follow,
Not to shrink or bend or hide,
But to meet you in the middle,
Whole, unmasked, and side by side.
Lev
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