Shadows, how they fall
In distances, from the walls
And the citadels, that they had built for all of us.
And from our ancestors to our ash
None of this will to will, will last
As we again do cast, shadows to the north of I, and shadows to the south, of some lost and lonely self,
Lost in straw; and imagining,
At what made shadows and what will Gods, and what the demons that will wait to pounce upon the fools, at the gate.
And loss to lost, and the record of our loss will fall to shadows
Distant and receding
To shores undreamt and conceding
To the dreamers of the dream, (in) dreaming.
And now by the light of some other dawn, come the shadows standing tall,
Like watcher's watching all of us,
From some n'other wall that towers over and above some other huddled, muddled mass
All lost in straw, with fevered dreams and muttered prayers;
Lost to time and lost to cares
Then forgot, and gotten caught in shadows grasp.
And shadow grasps at straw;
And shadow grasps,
Without no bones to gnaw upon
No bones to pray what for
Nor make much more
Than what it was we had to made before, remembering
The divide in us.
.
uh feminine'z
fistful flowerz
uv
bowing
conceding
tumbling
such pretty flicker'n
each theirn
petal
float 'top thuh
kentucky grass
blue
uh message
path
welcome
lure
purty room
one
fer hern first
love
The days drift by at summer’s pace,
Too insubstantial to embrace.
Without a goal that I can chase,
In neutral I am stuck.
Though I am home, most any place
Would seem the same, with just a trace
Of novelty to help me face
A way out of the muck.
No matter what, in any case,
The passing time might grant some grace,
My lethargy conceding space
To welcome back some pluck.
It begins in barricading,
Anger, fear and then persuading,
Keep on beating,
Hearth and heating.
Face looks red and
Head overblown with intense containment.
I bubble up with the thoughts,
Sighs and shock at what they’ve brought.
Though hope of formation is lost,
Cascading thought of being
Part of such that, not conceding,
Is hurt of needing,
And creates a darker cushioning
For me to rest my head.
conceding intelligence has its place—kindness wins the race
is not conceding the battlefield to the elite a seemingly benign form of surrender
I've been crying too long
It feels like my eyes are bleeding
You claim I'm the only one who is wrong
I guess accountability is what you're conceding
I was never perfect
But I tried my best
Your feelings faded
And you know the rest
I've been going through too much
I haven't had time in a while
Not even for good times and such
I can't remember the last time I really smiled
“The rabbit hole of lust, is subtle and deep ~
Be watchful if we’d take a consciousness leap”
~ quote by poet
As we pick up our pen and begin to write,
conceding this too is a habit routine,
we console ourself that it is quite alright
and this is an addiction we need not wean
but when soul’s musings fall from their lofty height,
the truth of our bondage we begin to glean,
as we pray to God, asking Him to restore,
rhythm that delights heart, begging for an encore.
RESOLUTION
Resolve can be such a transient thing
Commit to living this next year anew
Leave the old behind and forget the bling
But first one admits what is really true
One makes this promise to oneself again
A resolution that may last a week
Good intentions will merely leave a stain
It is as if some voice inside must speak
It’s an exercise in humility
Conceding that perfection never was
It is more like a kind of fantasy
As I try to live in this Land of Oz
I promise not to write stuff like before
But here we go again - I’ve written more
I should've predicted the dilemma right from the start.
When you parked your car, sideways, across my heart.
Too far gone to see, too emotionally invested to care.
A gradoise illusion to your thousand yard stare.
Feelings of belonging whilst rejoicing in laughter.
My mind simply concocting a happily ever after.
The kick from your beauty internally ingrained.
Any fears and dubiety subsequently waned.
The flame burns alight but old scars remember.
What once shone so bright is now ash and ember.
Dreams of connection shot the nest and flew.
The circle has no end, producing suffering anew.
Validation and consent to toy with my emotions.
Like a child blowing bubbles or a witch making potions.
Conceding I play no part in the life that you chose.
I stare to the sea, that's why they call it the blues.
A wave washes over me, in a figurative way.
As I replay the conversation had on that last day.
Like a beautiful serpent, you hissed 'you should've been flattered'.
As you turned. Walked away. My love story shattered.
From yours over there
To ours, hereround
What contrariness of sky
Reflects the eye?
And do swifts, I doubt
Swallows, this neat
Weave, of the jovial
What is visual.
Nor while conceding
To a bias
Of summer day pride
No joy-leaps hide
Can be imagined
This placid blows
As untroubled of face
For clouds what grace.
When identity drops away
We observe awareness yet is
Vibrant aliveness here to stay
Radiating love, light and bliss
What our soul is, we get to know
When identity drops away
Truth is garnered in stillness slow
We then see soul’s light, clear as day
Conceding to love, right of way
Cravings of our lower mind cease
When identity drops away
We’re free from our thinking disease
Ceasing to size, we vaporise
Bliss mists ignite our form of clay
We’re living light, we realise
When identity drops away
There she lies, all bruised and bleeding.
She always gets up.
There's no conceding.
She'll never comprehend the reason.
Was it too easy because she was seasoned?
Another's strong emotional reaction kicked her to the curb.
Now she's in traction.
A broken system in the dust.
Whom can one truly trust?
Regardless how cloudy some days seem to be,
the sun will break thru eventually.
Violent noisy events in waves slap ,
Break and coersively snatch away
Distrubing the foamy thoughts in array,
Spreading across the stretch and dap
Calm and quietude that envelope
And revive the slackening sprit -
Beyond the roaring waters sans limit ,
Get tossed with the flickering hope
A little sweet success charges ever,
Even the slapless and dry a feel
Yet it is the inner conceding deal
Of the self-contained,bleary heaver
Sure some relentless faith and drive
Returns with a new design and form
To pull the possible out of the storm
And incite the wayworn , again to strive
Here it is that one meets the lead-
'Concur with Nature's system and order ,
'Things find their own recourse and border,
'Vanity squeezes out ,but biased creed.'
We three cats of Halloween are
Bearing kibble, we travel so far
Yield and mountain, meow and fountain
Following a witch’s star
Oh…. Moon of wonder, circle so bright
Moon with royal Jack-o-lantern light
Eastward leading, still conceding
Guide us to thy perfect sight
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