It's ineffable...
So why do we persist in it's expression
Bubbling up from somewhere we can't even name
It has to come out somehow, and where and how it does is unexpected
At least by those around us who're subjected to what remains
As a mystery to most... now that all is open
To that nameless hole that fills up with what needed to come out
Someday medicine might pretend to know what autopsies can't tell us
But despite what they'll come up with,,, I'll bet it isn't right
Some fancy Latin name won't begin to explain
How this spring can be continuous yet not have a known source
Just know that when the well runs dry
No matter that we knew not why
We knew it would happen by and by
In spite of where suspicions lie
In spite of who cried, "My oh my!"
A look inside is still worth all our questions
But we'll just have to live with the suggestions
Mary, mary (with melody) even our bodies are built on sacrifice. Have you ever seen an organism of the opposite sex that not only lets you enter it but also expands to make room for you and bleeds? We need to play the dead in this world and wake up in some fig tree bark. Those who've never been wounded mock the wounded. In the end, they long to find a solace in an untouched maghony box, scattering their rotten figs into a very box they ruthlessly worn down. Time of leaving came, spring that hides into autumn turned to winter. I left the life that I entered quietly, left my unfaithful partner at the last junction. Wave sounds inside me was loud enough to suppress the noises of cascades. Couldn't hear the people who love me inside that mess. Feeding a baby all of sudden, I'm about to recognize...
That's the baby I cuddled under that fig tree; carrying tiny blue light on her eyelashes. Waves shutted down.
08/03/2026
no longer do I desire to be tempted
nor misled by the enemy
I need an upright spirit that's firm
and immovable inside of me
create in me a righteousness
like that of Jesus, the Christ
make my heart cleaner
as I walk this Christian Life
remove any propensity
to act in sinful ways
vacate any transgressions
In me now today
create in me a righteousness
like that of Jesus the Christ
make my heart cleaner
as I walk this Christian Life
A steadfast renewal
Your salvation I need to attain
create in me a clean heart
let a righteousness in me be obtained
let me draw nearer
to You once again
let me confess and repent
of all my sins
create in me a righteousness
like that of Your Son the Christ
make my heart cleaner
as I walk this Christian Life
Let me know abide
in your infinite grace
Renew me so your salvation
I can fully embrace
create in me a righteousness
like that of Jesus the Christ
make my heart cleaner
as I walk this Christian life
God
Makes no junk, invites us to create
Love....
Deep within the twinkling
clouds lies Toylandia, a
magical island where toys
come alive.
Teddy bears wear tiny
golden crowns and dance
with beautiful, glittering fairy
dolls.
Toy trains chug along tracks
made of rainbow strawberry
licorice, blowing bubbles into
the blueberry sky.
Every morning, colorful
plastic blocks build
themselves into magnificent,
soaring castles.
Friendly dinosaur toys gently
carry smiling children across
rivers of sweet chocolate milk.
The trees are made of green
cotton candy, sprouting shiny
marbles and bouncy balls.
At night, soft wind- up music
boxes play a gentle, soothing
lullaby to the stars.
No batteries are ever needed
here, for pure imagination
powers the whole land.
The toys gather around a
warm campfire, sharing
happy stories and eating
marshmallow clouds.
It is a wonderful place of
endless playtime, where the
fun never, ever stops.
we create our own reality,
and in my reality,
I am
the owner of my dreams,
therefore,
I take responsibility
for my flaws,
as well as my strengths,
my failures,
as well as my successes.
I own my fears,
as well as my hopes.
In my reality,
there is no illusions,
no fantasies.
I make no apologies
for who I am.
So take me as I am,
the good and the bad,
or leave me alone.
Look at every side
of this spectrum before
making a decision
about wanting to be with me.
Why?
Because what you see
is my reality.
I will never change.
So are you sure
I am really what you want?
We create our own reality.
In my heart lives a dream looking for hands,
Not to replace it,
But to walk beside it.
Project of the Heart is a Creative Lab
Where ideas become form,
Where words, images, colors, and matter
Meet to give life on every possible printing surface.
This is not a one-person project.
It is an open space
For those who believe creativity
Is a tool for change.
We invite you to take part in the way you can,
As your heart allows:
— Printing materials
— Equipment, paper, ink, machines
— Skills, time, guidance
— Moral support, sharing, visibility
— Or any other form of contribution
You feel called to offer.
Every small gesture creates impact.
Every gift is an act of trust.
Every participation adds a new color
To the prism of this project.
If you cannot give much,
Give what you have.
If you cannot give things,
Give presence.
If you cannot give presence,
Give belief.
Project of the Heart
Is a laboratory of love,
A workshop of hope,
A proof that when hearts unite,
Creation has no limits.
Come.
Create.
Leave your trace.
Frustration fills me,
Thoughts spill into reality,
Challenging how I see,
Forcing things to be,
Pushing out energy,
Over running my entity.
Plenty of emotions,
Flow unintentional,
The conventional way taught,
I aught watch what I say.
As I watched it all play out,
Shouting inside,
"What's this all about?"
And without a doubt,
I was shown the way,
Day after day,
Creating what I say.
Playing right into the hands,
Of another's demands,
Stripping me from the land,
I came to understand.
Landing me right where I am,
Standing in the way of the plan,
In a way I know I can.
The power of one man,
Overcoming his own Creation,
Rippling through the Land,
As frustrated hands,
Learn to create on demand.
Create a love
Create. Create something. Something good.
Something. Something constructive and uplifting
Some words, visions, something, what gives
Gives to live, to life, to live. To the hoped life
Want something, I know, the life. Lost a life
Dried world. Dried land. No rain. Dried eyes
Mine. I can’t see the view. I don’t want. Meet. Life
Don’t call me. Life. Don’t. I have no loving home
A home. The family. Illusion. Created from love
Daydreaming is the destroyer of life. That is not love
Hmm. My dreams are aggressive. I can’t drop them
My dreams are my enemies. Dreams from love
“Dropped you a love”, said Satan with compassion.
“Yes, this is the reality, my Master”, I answered.
“Then drop all, and follow my light,, said Satan.
Long this way. Where is the end? Where? Tell!
“There is no end to your way”, answered my Satan.
Hmm. Human life is immortal. Hmm. No way out.
Create something? A love? I needed. But why?
“You are in my cemetery. Love here”, said Satan
A mortal wants love. For happiness. Forget the life
I create an illusion
For family, for love
For the mind creation
For the honor
Of the past
And future
they told me
it had to rhyme
it had to mean something—
something big—
like death, or love,
or the smell of gasoline in a motel parking lot.
so I just sat there
with a busted lighter
and an ashtray full of good intentions,
and the words just
spilled out like a drunk
trying to find my shoes that I misplaced.
this isn’t a poem,
it’s just like life
with its pants down,
asking you to kiss it
before it collapses again,
waking up just to do it over
and over again.
‘Lone, my life decorate will I
And joy of life create will I.
A fast flowing flash-flood am I,
My way forward ferret will I.
As my wishes are all my own,
Hold on my head their weight will I.
What’s longing? Just a paper boat,
Like ere, on sail set off will I.
I was called once a road-side stone,
As milestone, navigate will I.
Pain has no power to punish me,
In heart as captivate will I.
In a crowd if alone I feel,
A world my own rotate will I.
_________________________
Ghazal |02.07.2025| life, loneliness, joy
A ghazal fashioned from the one in Urdu by Harsh Brahmabhatt -- apani viraniyañ saja lunga.
My story need not involve a person’s glory
though I hope it will be interestingly oratory
and preferably self-explanatory
rather than overly expository.
To titillate my readers, I could even make it just a wee bit gory.
The muse has no hushing.
My voice needs no shushing,
A baby boomer scribbling,
At my brain, muse nibbling,
Cool to create,
Thoughts i relate,
While world is yawning,
I write in the morning,
Verbose or terse,
My muse here in verse!
haiku : manifestation process
heart whispers symbols
mindful make intentions, plans ~
action complete, sleep
____________
hiku
he ART
w h i s p e
R
s
s M O S
y b L
MIND
ful
make
I. N. T. E. N. T. I. O. Ns
PLANS ~
ACTION
Complete
zzzzzz
________________________
Start with sentences.
Or happiness.
Or everyone.
Take words as if they have been hanging on the ceiling.
The waiting room can grow.
Long hallways with photos.
Sentences.
Or wheels.
Or wailing.
Easy stuff like pencils that break.
So rinse everything off again.
Waiting on thoughts to become thoughts.
They always say that sunlight is fake.
Start with empty hands.
And eat everything.
But let the words eat first.
The best way to create-
Is being a person who likes music.
Or sports, or being happy.
Tap away until there is nothing left of the radio.
That you haven’t eaten.
Create.
Everyone went home that day.
Leaving scraps.
Start with everyone and everything.
Create.
Or don’t.
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