Peace within the heart for nothing else will do
you gave all you had now time will follow through
Quick satisfactions are disappointing for they lapse
anything worth lasting needs time not to collapse
Labors sweat and toil with planning complete
minutes become hours into days begetting weeks
Relationships on hold work wide and clear
once completed those ignore blessed with profit to share
Work is a duty for living needs a choice
a purpose for being gives the world your voice
Tired but never weary forging ahead
dreams never reality lying around in bed
When the work is done and night whispers for rest
Call it a day knowing in pride you did your best
By the grace of God
I see now clearly for the first time
Jesus is the direct path to God for Christians
The same way rigpa is to Dharmakaya for Buddhists
There is no effort, there is no path
There is just the blessing
Of direct transmission.
In this way we take the result as the cause
Like milk being poured into milk
Like good begetting good
Like the One becoming the many
To become again the One
By the grace of God
Amen.
(9/21/25)
Bombs begetting bombs,
War mongers are safe and sound;
Others being bombed:
The bombing of others reaps
Bloody power over them
No matter who dies,
Nuclear war bombing pays off;
Bombs begetting bombs:
Millions spent creating bombs;
Trillions reaped from their bombings:-
War is a business,
Nuclear bombs produced and sold;
Low cost drones offered:-
War is for power;
So is capitalism:-
Just do the homework:
Democracy is one thing;
Power control, another:-
Watch the news on war today:
It’s about finance; not life:-
Why not target peace?!:
What peace reaps is beyond cost,
And invaluable:-
We all share in peace’s reaping;
Not just the power mongers:-
Daylight bleeds its seeds.
A nightly womb
is again inseminated.
The day was hurried
it pulled out too early.
Dawn is a dead lamb
in the snow.
Tomorrow we will seek
new ways
into those legends
wherein,
Gods birth humans.
“Explore the length and breadth of the universe, drink deep from the fountain
of beauty and bliss and sing soulful songs of praise for its creator”
~ By Poet
Let my soul sing of the joys of Heaven and the earth!
Angels with alabaster wings and stars that align in constellations,
Clouds that vagrantly roam and moon that plays hide and seek,
Oceans that swirl and waves that roll, beating on sandy shores,
Mountains and trees that brush against, touching heaven’s seams,
Seasons that come and go, leaving their mark on nature's brow,
With a cocktail of colors, begetting joy and delight in every heart,
Spring Daffodils that smile and sway, summer beams that kiss the cheeks,
Autumn leaves in amber and gold and winter snowflakes in lacy flight,
All these scintillating scenes proclaim aloud that Heaven isn’t all that far,
And our Master Craftsman exhorts all- ‘Open your eyes wide and behold’!
Cantankerous cancers found my blood letting from the slit,
Is it avarice of me to desire the love begetting of Lazarus?
Enjoying life cadaverous like forgetting the want to live,
Is it glamorous for me to die while God desires I live?
Forgo the solid ground,
My feet dangled off the edge of a jagged cliff.
I fought the howl of squalid sin,
I caught the wind sending back the fire of my padded spliff.
Below I spotted a town,
My feet angled to squish what I saw down to the earth’s crusty skin.
Got calls asking where I’ve been.
Like,
“Just,
Just been wondering.”
Yeah yeah.
Yeah,
I guess you’ve just been wondering?
Could’ve made it better before I made it end,
Would’ve,
Should’ve,
But I wouldn’t have liked to make amends.
A couple foot of rope set up to further suspend,
Just to be an easy way out for whoever he is?
I misunderstood a friend on what is perpetuity,
I just want to live forever,
Instead I pretend to breathe on incongruity.
And as I descend upon,
I felt alive again when I grew dizzy.
I felt alive,
In my life,
I felt alive as I grew dizzy.
I remembered when you came for my birthday.
It was years ago.
Ten to be exact.
You would not go home and stood long
You almost slept in my bed since it was late
Oh how it could have been a date
Eight years prior I had dreamed that we would be in each others fate
Well, with me that night you did not stay
Your heart would belong to a different metaphoric beau
You placed your head on my shoulder
For me it was a betrayal that could not be any bolder
I could not make you love me
Now your’re back after a run with a person that is no longer here
Did he ever exist?
Was he a manifestation that you created for yourself to mirror?
Your mirror is a fanstasy.
As your clock ticks, understand that you are not worthy of my seed
With your words and actions, I see your garden only begetting weeds
The weeds are your lies
I don’t love you
You are the past
Blue Cheese and Old Pickles Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish
A dish of disappointment
mocks the kitchen chef
two anomalies sitting on his cutting board
all in their glory, dumbfounded
... and unappetizing
plated for aliens and not humans
or for a horse that doesn’t know better
this recipe’s giving him the blues and he’s seeing red
where …
his yellow brick road has two strangers today
two lost food groups
arriving earlier in hearses
a funeral procession
mythically carrying the deceased to his kitchen foyer
… some blue cheese and an old dill
that are down for an undressing
of his bitter words
like, fudge, where’s the beef
… or better yet Mars is up there
as a cloud of despair hovers over the kitchen
not a spaceship as one might think
darkness begetting light
salt, pepper and garnishes spooked
… a ready barf bag crashes this meal
A rusted breeze ripens with early frosts
Ill-fated trees wilt begetting their loss
Rich fermented decay's putrified bloom
Bidding farewell to the song of the loon
The belching pond spurts summers spoil
Bird nests crumble leaving traces of toil
Flowers tilling soil with seeds for new growth
All of life is taking a dying oath
The spreading fire of the evening sun
Blazes in drenched horizons faraway
As days get shorter, and stars have more fun
Popping on flashlights in the milky way
Autumn-extraneous-harmonious
Ceremonious-Testimonios
Wherefrom arises desire begetting thought,
more so in moments when we think we are still,
imagining ego is reduced to naught
and that we have surrendered to God our will?
It seems clear bondage to form invokes desire
in heart, manifesting as a fearsome fire,
quelled easily enough though if we so choose
without excuse, to make love and light our muse.
6 lines from Firefly Memories (Terza Rima)
As the night rolled into a darkness rich
With glimmering fireflies, vibrant, quiet
And happy, charming, able to bewitch
I caught them in Mason jars that riot
Lights going on and off, soft, so soothing
Breathing graceful whispers that sigh “try it”
6 new lines (opposing the old poem)
Despite the morning, crisp and ever fresh
Pouring out her dawn past the mountain’s crests,
Begetting goosebumps on our naked flesh
Kissed by colors, beauty that time protests,
Reflecting dew, trembling on butterflies,
Lasting songs, rich as the morning suggests.
ARTEFACTS
recreated
as
a colossus
in time
using
dimensional depiction
extended
into reality
a glimpse
of the past
with
the possibility
of consolations
begetting beauty
melancholy
steeped in
its ethereal glory
to reflect
on the
inspiration
fashioned
mirrored
in
conceptual space
discovered
by
visionaries
&
expressionist
glowing
in a
maximalist style
STRUCTURES
intrigue
resonates
in
informal
voice
depend
upon
the unusual
begetting
emotion
in
reflected
detachment
&
figures
of speech
authentic
particulars
meaningfully
compressed
6
transmitted
It was time for day to bid adieu to the setting sun,
when tangerine hues blend with those of pale pink.
Not to miss the titian glow, I was afraid to blink,
now that the ebbing of twilight had finally begun.
Slowly, it descended below the horizon's edge,
a sanguine orb drowning in a cobalt blue sea.
Sunset is such an enchanting pleasure for me,
as sunlight disappears behind the cliff's ledge.
During the begetting of night, my mind was at play
with thoughts of writing of a moment I won’t forget
and of the crowning halo of light of the sun's coronet.
The one it offers to the moon at the end of each day.
Cascades of pastel colors stretched across the skies.
My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'
I watched a last flicker of light dip in an ocean swell.
A radiant canvas loomed before my awestruck eyes.
The grand finale' of this prismatic pageantry, I lauded,
as this lustrous sunset slowly slipped away from me,
waved goodbye and sank into the depths of the sea.
Another sunset made its exit. I stood and applauded.
pristinity of unfettered awareness
on earth hemmed in by senses
contoured in organic form
and enslaved by mind
is the cage it’s in
as we chose
and yet
always free
upon dissolving
intent birthing desire
attachment begetting fear
flowing instead of stagnating
in dynamic stillness, ever in renewal
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