Life is still being fair to every person
Walking all roads toward destination
No matter they are circuitous or plain
And mind not the yields joy or pain
Lives suchlike yours and mine appeared
As to be bracketed quotes of comments
Made by yet to be known forces we share
Once compiled as being a book presents
As seemed the most accurate words chosen
And the most vividly truth has explained
No matter they are circuitous or plain
Once visualized as being pictures shown
As seems the most reasonable lines drawn
And the most pretty colors are painted
It's the most common truths are recorded
And the most precious piece of arts coined
For us being together to read and comprehend
With thankfulness and loving feelings keen
Deep sky,
ankles seeping into grass.
Through the thicket,
light pushes through,
a thousand bracketed sky windows.
Deep earth gives way,
fades way down,
to where legs
reach up,
to a topless mind.
Treetops break the surface,
of small meadow puddles.
Out from the depth
small frogs fly upward,
singing.
No shores anywhere.
Sitting on the Field
Lights come up on stage
All we have is time
I don’t mind the wait
I looked at you
And you looked at me
I do know why
I found you
I wonder how
You found me too
So baby don’t tell me
Just give me your hand please
And let’s watch the show, Ma
And please understand me
The chronic we blazing
Straight to our prefrontal cortex its racing
Now all my thoughts are spacing
All I see is you
Bracketed time eclipses the scene
Upon a river of notes
My love like a beam
Please pinch me, my dear
I hope this is no dream
"To escape from the mean and penurious [competitions],
from calculating and scheming [WinLose Gaming],
is at time the parching [integrative healthy] desire
of [ecopolitical LeftBrain Dominant] man [sic]...
Prayer [RightBrain ecoconsciousness] clarifies
our [ego/ecotherapeutic] hope and intentions.
It helps us discover our true [maturing polypathic] aspirations,
the [monoculturing] pangs we ignore,
the [multicultural] longings we forget
[to expand our ego's monocultural identity].
It is an act of self[ego]-purification...
It [regeneratively] teaches us what [both Earth and Ego] aspire to,
implants in us the ideals we [DNA/RNA health-wealth encrypted] ought
to cherish
[with even more endo/ecto-symbiotic moral integrity
of self-optimizing ego-health
as Earth's perduring regenerative wealth]."
[Sorry, Abraham,
my LeftBrain always has to have the last bracketed word.]
No worries.
Enjoy your self-and-other perpetuating Sabbath.
From Rob Brezsny, except my own bracketed commentary, Pronoia, p. 274:
I say that the Creator includes death as an essential part of evolution's master plan.
Lifetime after lifetime,
our immortal[ly shared DNA/RNA solidarity] souls take on a series of temporary forms
as we help unfold,
in our own small ways,
the inconceivably complex plot
of the divine [regenerating positively deviant v. negatively deviant] drama.
Each time we die,
it's hard and sad to our time-bound [tragically doomed reductive] egos.
But from the perspective of the part of us that has always been
and will always be [We],
it's simply part of the epic adventure
[divine pronoia comedy].
The abolition of [either self or other-selves] suffering
is a worthy goal [of positive bothMe-andWe deviance].
spare a few kind words for me
open the treasure chest of your heart
draw deep
let a few kind words
drop from your lips
into my outstretched and empty heart
Ahhh...let me hear the blessed sound
of falling feelings of friendship filling me
Spare a few kind words for me
I am on the street of solitude
crushed and in need
my emotions bleed
from a life that's unkind
and everywhere I go
my impoverished state shows
you haven't been where I've been
you haven't seen what I've seen
Spare a few kind words for me
It will not make you the poorer
for your gracious gift of giving
will garner a smile
bracketed in happy tears
kindness induced
kindness released
Freed...
Spare a few kind words for me
And in the sparing
you will be enriched
exponentially....
Eileen Manassian
My Sins – Zamreen Zarook
Oh God you are so gracious,
Am a guy who have done since in capacious,
At times I have being as a carnivorous,
But it charged ages to identify as dangerous.
Since are being committed behind the screen,
Even it started at my thirteen,
Mirrors used to say that I am evergreen,
Whereas my since were always unseen.
In enormous number I have executed,
But for every count, high privacy was aborted,
Simply because of your blessings we are bracketed,
If not, we are already being quoted.
Oh God, I understood your kindness,
Here after I won’t commit since in others absence,
However much chances I get to access,
I will always have heaven as my address.
Winding path through the tawny wood
Hanging branches form a shadowy hood
Dangling vines each spindled fold lace
Slippery, svelte moss cloaks the base
The vented light peeps through fibrous trellis
Addled mind with beauty to encase
Swerving shadows creep down the swaying lattice
Each truncated step to efface
Fallen leaves weave a sprawling mat
Soft soles o'er silky fibers prat
Trodding o'er tender mushrooms, rendered scat
Listless feet trample each groove; probe each slat
Restless roots the rugged edges trace
The undergrowth crowds the shrinking space
Meandering route into sleepy hollow careens
Whittled bushes, saw grass the stillness gleans
Through the swaddled cradle padded soles calmly pace
The rhythmic lullaby of whistling wind heart doth embrace
Through stunted hollow into bracketed thicket
Spiny branches throw up a cumbersome picket
Each spiked shrub colludes to form a sticky wicket
Bristling, twining band is serenaded by singing cricket
Struggling through the gristly garden
My stinging heels bleed for reprieve, pardon
Just ahead, a carpeted, emerald meadow streams
My sodden feet dance into the velvety seams
At night, bracketed by gory sights of bleeding fleshes
Of unfortunate brothers succumbed to stammering calling of shells,
We staggered on and offered neither flowers nor wishes
Dangling in heavy grief and in Lucifer’s hell,
Dodging glimmers of lights and hugging darkened woods
Authority of life in our hands and glory of blood in our eyes
Tomorrow, our breathless brothers shall kiss the national hood
To final-salute the leaders before the woeful skies
Shrouded by proud yards of our national color
A plural glory for a thousand nights under the shells.
I, too may join the queue before dawn or more
As we embrace hell after hell
For Brian Strand's contest
Negative space forlorn.
Shapeless hidden no form,
bracketed box born.
Lingering message torn.