transforming not as a bliss mist ~
our clenched fist reveals we resist
“I never had a mother, father, son, or the like. I was never born and never did I die. I never had a mind. The supreme Reality is undistracted and calm. I am the nectar of knowledge, homogeneous Existence, like the sky.”
We as an identity do not exist,
except as a temporary dream image,
which ego accepts not, shaking a clenched fist,
consumed by fires of desire that in heart rage.
Know that by letting go of what we are not,
in the void of silence we become self-taught,
recognising that in truth we’re living light,
dwelling beyond space-time, drenched in bliss delight.
untitled poem
by Javascript
The future is lying 6fit beneath me
I have learnt to morn people while they are still
Alive .as dreams fads into the echoes of our nightmare.
But we still clench the hopes of our tomorrow on our fist and now our hands hold nothing but hopeless dreams
As ashes become the reality of our burnt dreams
As we smock away our dreams
Now the stench of the cigarette smile
Chocks our breath away
Leaving everything but burnt dreams behind
You see my reality is a venom whisper
I want to spite out
Before it kills me.
But someone is holding my
Mouth with a clenched fist
This reality is one were you cant pitch
Awake from.
Branded on our skin like a brill text .
I dont speak from the past
I speak from the present tense.
written by Owen thepoet @Javascript thepoet
From one singularity came the exploding spark,
Not yet stars, not yet light, only potential.
A field unseen, stretched taut as thought,
Holding energy like a clenched fist of time.
Expansion surged, a storm without wind,
Not matter racing, but space itself unfurled.
Faster than light, yet no law was broken—
Relativity bowed, not shattered, in awe.
Negative pressure, a repulsion profound,
Bent the equations toward infinity’s edge.
In the womb of the cosmos, space time grew,
Doubling, redoubling, in a heartbeat’s breath.
Quantum tremors, minute as dust,
Were stretched across horizons vast.
Seeds of galaxies, of suns and worlds,
Carried within fluctuations’ song.
What mystery drives the inflaton’s dream?
What hand steadied the potential’s curve?
In equations I see its fleeting ghost,
A pressure that sings of repulsive fire.
And when it ended, it left a gift:
Heat, light, matter, the chance to begin.
The hot Big Bang was its second act,
The stage prepared by a silent overture.
I wonder still if beauty was its aim,
Or only chance in quantum disguise.
Yet in its breath, the universe awoke.
teeth grind silently
in jaw's prison for sorrows
anger pressed to bone-
forgiveness waits at the gate
suppressed until victory
clenched lips hide the cry
parry what loud eyes don't see
masking every wound-
rage silenced by the anger
etched in muscle, bone, and brow
knuckles white, jaws locked
displays the relentless fight
in hate's epitaph-
yet while clenched, a jaw can't shout
a clenched fist can't grab a sword
the choice lies within—
clench until the fire is spent
or loosen the hold
to free the mouth to declare
the path to revolution
you are a gentle breeze
a cocktail with antifreeze
an approaching sneeze
or a winter storm
three standard deviations from the norm
four sheets to the wind
and I think your rook is pinned
are you a ghostly mist
or a clenched fist?
I know you are a metaphor
I don't know what for
They called him the dosser.
A blessed man with a crooked,
bent and wobbly wishbone of wire,
held tight in clenched fist.
He fossicks spellbound
for water hiding deep below
in the groundwater.
His fingers compel the water
sleeping fifty feet down
to hear his call,
and echo a reply forthwith,
with a signal on the wire tap.
On some hot dry afternoon,
dumb with drought.
If he lets you watch him,
you'll see the wire tremble
ever so slightly,
and swing to one side.
Often he'll backtrack,
reset the grip,
cover the same ground,
to see if the quiver,
and swing repeats.
Then, 'X' marks the spot
for the farmer to dig.
The water diviner knows not why
he has this insight to feel
the presence of water beneath his feet.
It was pure happenstance that
he learned he had the gift when
a true believer gave him a try.
Perchance, you too
may have the diviner's gift.
To conger the wellsprings
of water deep within.
To reveal its
secret whereabouts,
with a wiggle of wire,
held tight in a believer's fist.
Rage is the
phantom pain
of the clenched fist
they tried to make me
Inspired by Leviticus 19:18
Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.
Let go the clenched fist,
the smoldering weight of old wrongs,
for vengeance is a shadow
that dims the light in us all.
See the stranger’s eyes—
they mirror your own quiet hopes,
their heart beats as yours,
a rhythm of shared, fragile dreams.
Love them as you would
cradle your own weary soul,
with patience, with grace,
a warmth that needs no name.
In this act, we rise,
neighbors bound by simple truth:
to love is to live,
and living, we touch the divine.
we are afraid of vulnerability of innocence
so we set up an impregnable fortress
an opaque mind and clenched fist
but if we wish to see God face to face
we need to vaporise becoming a bliss mist
'Twas the night before Christmas, and insomnia befell,
No creature was stirring, but my thoughts are pell-mell.
Would the family squabbles and feuds come with the cheer?
Would I have to drown them out, with too much beer?
The smile and wave diversion has limited worth?
How long can my mirth defray my feeling good dearth?.
I flit like a butterfly, I sting like a bee.
But, my hands can't hit what my eyes can't see.
It's all so jovial, with all folks tongues tied.
Letting slip barbs tongue-in-cheek that lied.
Lips forced into clenched fist clamped smiles.
With forget-me-knots shrouded as wait-a-whiles.
The reindeers were laughing, stopping on the roof,
as I downed another draught of whiskey high-proof.
A hangover is a sure-fire cure to help me cope,
with the downhill slide to the slippery slope.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and I'm awake,
fearing the family feud sparring earthquake.
My mind is churning over past disputes, give-and-take,
and how to avoid ruining the day with a silly mistake.
NOT ON THE LIST
I assumed the mantle of an entitled snob
Pushing toward the bouncer in a tuxedo
Some bruiser of a guy, but it’s just a job
I suspect that he had an unsatisfied libido
Patting down the girls for guns and stuff
But I wonder, why does it affect me so
After a few minutes I had seen enough
I stepped forward with my clenched fist
Hoping after all, that he wasn’t so tough
He smiled that satisfied grin and hissed
Sorry old fellah, you’re not on the list
We're known to
Waste time coveting
Things we can't have.
We mortgage our castles in the air
Pursue illusions, rainbows...
That yield no pot of gold,
As opposed to waiting
For these elusive butterflies
To organically alight on our palm.
In our dogged pursuit,
We recklessly trample upon
Our flower beds, leaving
Bloomed flowers in ruins.
You let be those butterflies
You can't trap...
Inside your clenched fist.
Exercise patience, they'll come
On their own time, if not,
They're not meant to be yours.
Instead, pause and watch them
Float with abandon
Over your manicured garden.
Visually trace them
From flower to flower;
Admire their beauty...
Until they quietly flit
A w a y;
They're visitors
Not meant to be
Caught
Comes a time of unbreaking
what's broken
maybe broken to the point
a thing can't be fixed
ever
forever
severed.
To be sure prayers can find a home
but not when a divine plan's mark
is missed
yet must insist
with clenched fist
I resist.
A simple woodcarver, be
like Mister Geppetto
fend off a life of despair
perhaps with a little help from
a Fairy with Turquoise Hair.
For a creator
nothing causes elation
like its finest creation
seeking salvation.
All may end in ruin
in stringed freedom's destroy
it's never easy
bein' a wooden boy.
Life's call is abrupt
so keep your dukes up.
For you, not for me.
The words I said to myself years ago.
While looking at what seemed like a reflection of myself.
With clenched fist knowing I didn’t ask for any of it.
Running away became a default feeling.
For a long time, I thought of it.
Then the opportunity came.
It was my birthday.
I didn’t have to stay anymore.
I chose to run that day.
Had I stayed,
I would have been continuously robbed of my happiness.
Fleeing from the unpleasantness was the only option for me.
Seeking to walk on a path that seemed tranquil and safe,
But unproductive to everyone around me.
I chose to run,
To find the road to stability.
To rid myself of the enforced pedestal.
To not lose the ‘sense of me’ that was left.
I chose to run.
With the words ‘for you not me’ echoing in my mind.
Had I stayed, I wouldn’t have given myself a chance.
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