It’s something even children seem to know:
When love is freely given, it will grow.
Though as adults we try hard to deny
Those subtle things we cannot classify.
It’s Wisdom passing down from age to age.
It’s spoken of by prophet, seer, and sage
The young will dream, the old will reminisce
But in the end no one can quite dismiss
The Truth that’s written in our very soul;
The empty space inside, that God-shaped hole.
Look deep inside and you will always find
A love that you can never leave behind.
It’s something everybody longs to feel.
Yes, even as we doubt that it is real.
But every now and then we recognize
That Love is always near, but in disguise.
Love and life, a miracle.
A truth that is empirical
Found deep down in every human heart
Faith and hope and joy and peace
And grace that God will never cease.
A constant light to shine through the dark!
Who are you?
God
Passion
Forbearance
Whom strides with glory
Mended each fragment of me
Never a button undone
That’s an understatement
That time,
Your good light
Returned with silence by society
Society hasn’t met you have they
No wonder they don’t have manners
Who weaved the universe?
The reason to live
The meaning of life
Such cliches
It’d take 10 generations
Perpetual writing
To fully classify you entirely,
That’s an understatement
This time,
Let me be the one to mend your broken fragments,
Let me be the one to thank you unlike society,
Let me be the one to write perpetually for you,
My Aiden
difficult to classify
an unknown gizmo
thingamabob, doohickey
whatchamacallit
unnamed yet not unexpected
not unlike certain people
whose unique qualities defy classification
Humanity has just a handful of races
Real, quantifiable genetic differences
Based on evolutionary adaptation.
The rest of us are just a mix.
Not long ago you got bonus points
For “passing as white”
And now the bonus points come
With being identified as a minority.
The ultimate way to classify us all
Would be through genetics.
So instead of a self identified
Or externally observable grouping
We’d get a number of percentage
Which would go into our digital ID.
This would be most accurate
But also most absurd.
The alternative would be
To finally get beyond race
And simply call us, each,
A human.
(10/25/25)
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours- waiting for rebirth."
Quote by - Constance La France
Each season has its own highlights
Flower life starts at the roadside
Coltsfoot, which humans classify as weed
A lovely sign of spring
Shrubs, trees and flowers come to life
everything germinates and grows
wood anemone, crocus and snowdrops
- a spot in the garden
Plants maintain the balance of life
Choosing a favorite is hard
Summer is a glorious spectacle
- when the blossoms explode
Time for a long hibernation
Preparing for the coming frost
Winter plants ice roses on the window
- creates sense of wonder
The decay and rebirth cycle
means everything is connected
With strength back into every living cell
- It feels as pure magic
In the heart of poetry, where words dance,
There are no shadows of sadness, nor rays of hope.
It rises, transcendent, over seas and mountains,
In a world where dualities fade into confusion.
There is neither light nor darkness in this realm,
Only the pure essence of feeling, without labels.
Poetry, in its fullness, knows no bounds,
It is like the wind, unaware of beginnings or ends.
In this world, where opposites dissolve into the air,
Poetry becomes a river, flowing without borders.
It does not judge, separate, or classify,
It simply exists, in mystical harmony.
Just as nature does not obey human laws,
Poetry rises above all, free and eternally young.
It is the soul's refuge, where everything becomes one,
A world where there is neither good nor bad, just the pure and simple sound of the beating heart.
A nation rainbow
It rained and rained, fine rain but persistent
mountains dissolved, and rocks turned into sand
When the rain stopped, a smooth landscape
of peace and camel dung
Before the deluge, people who had sinned were
stoned to death since this was no longer
Possibly the sinner had to eat a kilo of carrots
until they turned orange and
were not invited to dinner
or supervised at the supermarket
The authorities thought this was a good idea and
made a color program,
to better classify
left-wingers
and radicals, making them eat cabbage till they
turned green and could not hide their socialism
tendency and forbidden to enter posh restaurants
The government liked this so much that they decided to
Classify all classes, beetroots for the royals
deep yellow for the middle class, and potato peel
for the working class and pink for artists
Alas, people fall in love across the color barrier
Their children looked like rainbows and were impossible to classify
Therefore, the government declared everyone's
equals, but instead build bigger prisons
I don’t dream often, but I dream of Jeanie,
the only one who ever touched my Nadi.
I met her bathing in the Irrawaddy.
You’d classify her as an in-betweenie,
but looking pretty hot in that bikini!
She got me going when she called me ‘daddy’!
Jean self-identified as “thorough baddie,”
but never let me see her Kundalini.
I couldn’t leave her working in that paddy,
so whisked her off to Venice. Like Houdini,
she made the transformation: loved linguini:
but part-time jobs (a waiter, then a caddy)
meant I could not afford her. One bellini
cost forty bucks! Forget the Lamborghini!
A hippo never went to school
which seems quite the catawampus
tho' he's no fool it's not cool
as there's no hippo campus
and wild is the hippo
while the horse may be tamed
yet both are herbivores
with large teeth to graze or crop
and altho' the hippo has an equine nickname
that's where the similarity stops
as the hippo is the horse of the river
(a horse of a different colour?)
causing him to be conflicted and confused
thus these words of wisdom I deliver
they'll walk trot or run on the sand
but the horse is not the hippo of dry land
so when he did wonder why
to clarify then classify
after several lobotomi
he was heard to query
"What kind of hippopotami?"
As the sun begins its journey
Into the morning sky,
This sunrise that's displayed,
Its beauty you can't classify.
The colors are more than vibrant,
Like nothing my eyes have seen,
Each one dynamic and bold,
And somehow perfectly pristine.
The colors blend flawlessly
On the canvas of the sky,
There is a tingling in my soul
From the pleasures that meet my eye.
The horizon is warmly glowing,
Red in a hundred different shades,
Out of this morning sky
There's much beauty that cascades.
As the sun rises higher,
The colors shift and modify,
Moving slowly closer to azure,
And becoming just the sky.
They’d fallen in love
as some young people do—
so that lust might rationally increase.
Their bright, valentine-red-blood fairly beat for love.
It’s good that we can name a thing—
describe it and classify it, so it’s out there,
fact-like, in the flimsy, indefinite poetry-verse
It was a day for it, as the sun, that most followed star,
was a carnotite paintball-splotch against a sky stitched of turquoise
and the quality of the light was sentimentally beyond reproach.
Their gallant love seemed to cast a radiance too, a bright, collateral light,
which was of greater reassurance than any by-rote, muttered words.
No one denied the ambition of their love, it was both a mess and a revelation. And no one could pretend the moment was ordinary, that the atoms that spun and gripped our world together weren’t woven yet more inseparable by their union.
The greatest, alas, may choose to bless or deny that such a miracle as love, lasts.
.
.
Songs for this:
Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers
You Can Have It All by Yo La Tengo
conflicting concepts invade my well-being,
making it harder and harder to think.
the number on the scale,
thoughts about wondering if I am pretty or ugly,
one or the other has to be a lie.
finding out if I deserve to live or deserve to die, causing me to wonder why.
why do I have this life?
why do I have this body?
every day, I sink lower and lower into the abyss I classify as depression.
the parasite gnaws at my mind, its claws pressing deeper into my chest.
the power it holds over me is concerning.
to think I once thought I was in control.
once I thought I held the reins and called the shots,
only for me to find out I was the puppet all along.
I don’t know how to escape. I don’t know if I even want to escape.
conflicting concepts invade my well-being,
making it harder and harder to think.
I am unbreakable,
Strong like steel,
No, diamond.
You can hurt me.
That’s fine.
I’ll bounce
Right
Back.
I am frail,
Flimsy like playing cards,
Barely here,
Barely hanging on.
You can push me.
That’s fine.
I’ll fall
Down
Slowly.
I am broken,
Shattered like mirrors,
Splintered on the floor.
You can break me.
That’s fine.
It’s just
Another
Crack.
I am intact,
Held together like patchwork,
Carefully fixed.
You can tear me.
That’s fine.
I was made
Like
That.
I am loud,
Crashing like the waves,
Pounding to the shore.
You can hush me.
That’s fine.
I won’t
Stay
Quiet.
I am undefined,
Unknown like fire,
A mystery even science can’t classify.
You can label me.
That’s fine.
I’ll tear
It
Off.
I am invisible,
Hidden like gravity,
Still very much here.
You can see me.
That’s fine.
Blink and I
Disappear.
Declassify and
Classify the called, chosen
And the faithful ones.
Rainbow nation
It rained and rained, fine rain but persistent
mountains dissolved, and rocks turned into sand
When the rain stopped, a smooth landscape
of peace and camel dung
Before the deluge, people who had sinned were
stoned to death since this was no longer
possible the sinner had to eat a kilo of carrots
until they turned orange and
were not invited to dinner
or supervised at the supermarket
The authorities thought this was a good idea and
made a color program,
to better classify
left-wingers
and radicals, making them eat cabbage till they
turned green and could not hide their socialist
tendency and forbidden to enter posh restaurants
The government liked this so much that they decided to
classify all classes, beetroots for the royals
deep yellow for the middle class and potato peel
for the working class and pink for artists
Alas, people fall in love across the color barrier
their children looked like rainbows and were impossible to classify
Therefore, the government declared everyone s
equals, but instead build bigger prisons
Sub Categories
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