Cracking Poems

Cracking Glass

Cracking Glass

Your mind fills like a glass
Always taking never ask
Never asking questions and never drawing lines
Never turning forwards, just staring far behind
You crack and break and bend and press
You chase and burn and scratch but yet
Walls crumble and never stand
They’re built of rubble and pure clear sand

You’re pushing and you’re turning
Clear as shiny day
You’re shoving

cracking the code

password to open the heart forgotten 
we wandered earth like a deluded ghost
then one day we became a child again
meaning innocence was then soul’s outpost
cleansed of stain, we broke free from ego’s chain
reclaiming light by God’s love begotten

THE CRACKING OF A TOMBSTONE

Sometimes life can be peaceful 
And Sometimes it can be quite 
You can even hear the needle drop
What is so funny?
Sometimes life can be full of drama
And Sometimes it can be stressful 
When is this pot getting hot?
The bomb has exploded,

As the seas collide
And the tree bears its fruit 
The world is watching 
As the

cracking

it had been a miserable place in his heart
disconnected the body mind and soul
wandered in a straightjacket of bedlam
insanity depression and misgivings
firmly rooted in a lonely Self
abandoned by madness and despair

a crack is where the light gets in
once the solar eclipse fissures
its own crevice down to the core

separated and broken he prayed
for a shift in

RUNNING RACES CRACKING CODES

RUNNING RACES CRACKING CODES 

No disgruntled dissonance 
between dimensions 
sliding down sigils
galaxies of glories
listening to lilies 
lyricing to Lilith
flow of filaments
consenting to classify 
eyes like echoes 
running races
cracking codes so
that Source can
claim His-Her 
crystals into
5D carols


©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song2024

Cracking the code

Accepting omnipresence of boundless space
and fixating our attention upon it,
we notice that from its pores in-pours God’s grace,
recalibrating consciousness bit by bit,
as our steps to heaven we slowly retrace,
requiring lamp of love in heart to be lit.
Silence, stillness and total thought cessation,
pierces the veil of space in meditation.

Cracking the code

Twirled about by desire and fear,
saw thought apparitions appear,
with the aim to drive us insane,
binding us in attachment’s chain,
blocking God’s light from drawing near.

Little Clown

Here she is 
Her smile as if painted on
Shining, eye catching
Her shell cracking
Breaking, snapping
Slowly revealing the true little clown
Oh, my silly little fool
No amount of pain or porcelain could hide something as hideous as you
Oh, now don’t weep
Don’t fret
After all, the show isn’t over yet.

Porcelain Play

You tell me to stop
How can I
When the porcelain play never stops
It has to keep going
For the crowd 

Yet, the cracks...
They are slowly taking over
Slowly breaking 
my so carefully built play
my life
my happiness 
The cracks get bigger, can they see? 
no amount of joy can seal them now.
The crowd, it laughs. I'm glad. They don't

Cracking the Quiet Space

cracking the quiet space, toddler with seeds
   feeds ostrich through car’s window,
giggles with jocund joy

8/20/2022

The Sound of One Heart Cracking

The poets talk of love.
Do you think they know
What it means?
A shimmering dream
Of sunlit grassy fields?
(So they say)
Or an endless stream
Of wet dreams?

Holding hands in a cinema
You watch translucent transcendent lovers
Kissing by a fountain in the park.
You caress in the dark
The sweaty, stubby fingers of another,
Of your lover
(So you say).

Still, I am no poet
I cannot

Cracking Open the Memory Box

She’d pull her hair, mean as a rhinoceros.
But I do care, though she skipped school
on that fateful final day of her life on earth.
Funny how I did not know about it.
Until yesterday I’d have thought she lived,
waiting to die like the rest of us, one day.

I cracked open the box to grab the handful
of group’d

Cracking Windows

We always keep the windows cracked
To get a little air.
Of course, we may then be attacked
By winter’s frigid fare.

But that’s okay – some extra clothes
Provide a counter point
So we will never, I suppose,
Be very out of joint.

Apartments get a lot of heat
Which often seems extreme,
Though window-cracking helps us beat
The dominance of steam.

Some Sounds Remind of Knuckles Cracking

Clatter claws cascade downward into listening drums. 
Pigeons are the worst. Rose bushes sit quietly all summer
then only after they have lost their heads
do they scratch and squark nightly.

Toilets that are not in your home haunt and taunt.
Dry joints crunch down - listening synovial cartilages
stick shift and slip out of gear. 
There is the jack-hammer

Cracking Down Or Cracking Up

I hear Oregon banned smoking
                             ~ though I'm a little hazy on that

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