If it's true -
Is it true that
Even the greatest sinner of them all
The devil ?
Can anyone, no matter how -
Can someone like me?
If they can yet become
Like that
If that's so -
Then is it true
Possibly truly know
Is it feasible.
Well if anyone wants to know if you can help me out ~with~ the flow
Then yes I want to go.
Even if it hurts to see.
Many fall in love without
presence of mind.
They repeat the mod cliché
that love is blind...
But sensible matchmaking
chooses more feasible soulmates.
Kids need adult supervision
in the matter of dates.
Love is a very special emotion
that causes much commotion
in the heart and soul,
where it has a big role.
Love's possible anytime, anywhere,
and many are caught by it unawares.
But don't let love be just a stupor
from which you wake up in horror.
Don't let love be a one night stand drink
from which you get a hangover.
Committed Love shouldn't be a fad or spell
from which you just get over...
When young minds play their own cupid
To many that has brought heartache and sorrow.
Underage kids dating is even more stupid
They usually regret on the morrow.
Reason doesn't work in a fit of passion.
So its best to love with
your mind and consultation.
Having love affairs without deliberation
is harmful fashion.
Head over heels
without discussion,
with well-wishers
may cause concussion
headache
of so-called lovers...
Use your head before your heart
Not every spark
should start a fire....
I don’t dare to dream beyond what I can do
It is foolish, craving to capture everything within view.
The world around is wondrously wide, a canvas vast
The more we try to grab, the more into agitation we’re cast.
Keep away from herculean schemes for tomorrow
Instead give today your best for a brighter morrow.
Focus on feasible things, let go, what’s beyond.
Take every step with caution, to simple needs respond.
Try,
Seek,
Deny
Freak
Trying
To
Weigh
You
Down.
Get skill,
Get tricks,
That speaks
possible drill
To continuing
Make you
To betray
Winged Boo
clouding shutdown.
It is unique,
It is captivating,
As eagerness bleak
The art automating
The inborn dream
Becoming feasible talent
Of great importance
Singing cool achievement
To become you
It becomes so adherent
To seek great pleasure
The best of accelerant
Which builds cool treasure
You are a hum
Of such new art
That complements your acquaintance
In your blossom heart
To count but few
Improv is an unscripted comedy form.
Starting with an idea for a sketch,
actors interact with each other,
making up things as they go.
As one person responds to another,
“No, but…” squashes spontaneity,
while “Yes, and…” builds the banter,
propelling witty action forward.
Quick and clever dialogue
promises even more to come.
Then, after finding an apt ending,
a brand-new sketch can begin.
Our lives are also unscripted.
Improvising our existence,
we react to evolving situations
with “Yes, and” for guidance.
Whenever feasible and appropriate,
say “Yes, and” to others and to life,
for enhancing enjoyment
while building community.
And even in our final moments,
we can still say “Yes, and” to death
since there is much more to come
when the new sketch begins.
(First published in Spirit Whispers: Eclectic Writings on Spirituality on Substack, 17 May 2025.)
(Image by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com.)
Igneous rocks moltened, crystallized, solidified
rising towards the surface like a hot furnace
Volcanic activity of the soul, conundrum of the heart
rule out the mind and the body facilitates, erupts !
One transformative honest experience and we
arrive at a gestalt moment of truth, we are
both energies, ... "explosive and implosive"
filled with adroitness and clumsiness alike
Profound changes in ones individual essence
can be an awakening of great disturbance
Within the ring of fire, boundaries co-exist
illumination is feasible if it is undeniable !
Magnetic moments in the soul reinforced
through our dreams, hopes, and fears....
Owning both destructive and creative powers
our souls do make choices each and every day
Both volcanoes and souls contain openings
and when the day of reckoning is near
we either choose to lay dormant or explode
it all depends upon our soul's barcode...
A vase,
simple, elegant
smooth symmetrical,
with only one side, surface
no inside nor outside, only in between
a narrow neck extends up from the bulb
twists back on itself to meld back into the vessel
with no perceptible seam, join or mark at the intersection
moving over its surface tracing, seemingly left and right, is not feasible
the vase, no flower bears, it holds no air, no water, only nothingness
no rim divides the in from out, no wall circles roundabout
a trace becomes an endless loop circling back on itself
with no start nor end, no curve, swerve or bend
the design is for eyes-only to perceive
for hands and touch get lost
slip off and drift away
in the vacuous
hollowness
of Klein
design
no mind games
we remain as we are
in our natural, blissful state
of course from time to time
we employ use of mind
just like any limb
our consciousness
is not limited by thought
or by function of senses five
fears and desires yet arise
as impulses always felt
by organic form
we celebrate
all transient offerings
feasible because of earth life
yet at all times we are aware
that we are living light
here for a sojourn
We’ve donned this form to feel love warm,
caged in space and hemmed in by time,
memory of heaven wiped clean,
so we feel helpless in life’s storm,
deadened to pulse of bliss beat’s chime,
light of soul remaining unseen.
To have the cake and eat it too
requires us to remain awake,
recognising life is a dream
but how then will rapture renew,
if awareness applies the brake,
on flow of love’s dancing moonbeam?
This is the quiz we need to ace,
feasible only with God’s grace.
Nimbus sheathes, laden heart's dark swamps.
Gush the insides out, a hollow, eerie remain.
Crimson cascade moat round, forbid ramps.
Notions of brick and steel, power's sweet regain.
A firm cage hedges all woes of time's sharp pain.
Blithe strides bridge the cracks, prove feasible still.
No doors, no windows, locked in impossible will.
Moments become wet steppingstone
over a stream of consciousness.
At breakfast, a TV delivers omens
with a perky disposition.
Buttering grilled bread, distracted by normality,
slipping through the well-greased gears
of a self-made reality,
then a singing hint of burnt toast
ripples through suddenly aware
nostril hair.
What should you do today -
walk the mood off
or pray brother pray?
Will the monstrous appear,
its likeness --- cute and kittenish,
though even now
new velvet satanic horns
are already budding.
Will the fuzz and fur turn quickly
to scabs and scales?
Sinister left-handed slaps of hysteria
swipe the sweat from wrinkled foreheads.
In a room bereft of natural illumination,
a light on an open laptop is blinking,
imagination types a nightmare
on the underside of its blank screen.
Brains unchecked by reason,
swivel inside their bony portholes,
they search this way and that
for a more feasible fantasy
before this amorphous apprehension
emerges fully clothed
as an all too familiar
mirror image.
I stay stationary, collapsed, in a room unlike mine
I stay bare, as I wait for my thoughts to align
the bloodied hand continues it's repetitive round
soon the dust in this chamber will have me drowned
my scaffolding will be unveiled before I accept
this isn't a hallucination because I overslept
I cry, I kick, I bite, I scream
I weep, I hit, my eye's they stream
my feet move my carcass for the very first time
so back to my predecessor's cradle, I can climb
the circle of life I complete at one and seven
and I hope to have again before I witness heaven
my consciousness a station that's only channel is you
I theorised us as true, not our love debut
the favourable and dreadful constantly contending
no speculation was given to our feasible mending
I crave to be livid and despise your existence
instead I sympathise and empathise and acknowledge our distance
your presence and aroma was a familiar setting
with your forthcoming absence it's you I'll be forgetting
formerly I was craving your presence and touch
now praying to avoid your glance and clutch
dreading to glimpse dreamy eyes turned devil
as our look will never again be that special
After nearly a year
Hamas released four October 7th hostages.
Unfortunately, they're all deceased.
Tossed away, like ballast, from a sinking beast.
Will they be mentioned at the DNC?
Will they be remembered by anybody?
Does anyone still remember October 7th
September 11th
the ghettos of Warsaw
or the ovens of Hitler and Eichmann.
We have forgotten!
Trojan camels have entered through the globalist gate.
Purely in the name of a new world disorder of calamity.
The elitist ribbon and perfume it as tolerance and diversity.
{Diversity only works when hate is taken out of the equation.
Tolerance is feasible but only in the wake of a common vision.}
However, large numbers of participants are cross-eyed or blinded.
There is an unhealthy growing tolerance for terror.
Little empathy for the innocent and the common man.
The people have turned into sheep too frightened to speak.
Herded by their masters into endless shadows.
From which they'll not reemerge from their sleep.
We have forgotten, but we'll soon be reminded...
by a maelstrom of mayhem and violence.
She discovered why he smiles
so pleasantly towards her.
But she couldn't allow him to
think anything permanent or
futuristic. simply due to her lack of
not being anywhere attracted to him.
His freind told her to let him hear how
she cursed and smoke in front of
him: this would surely turn him off.
This would put any feelings towards
her to rest. Yet neither to inspire or
encourage him she did so.
His stomach soured towards her without
any regrets or furthering. In fact he began
avoiding her. Compare the dlow or
transference of: to either counter or clockwise.
The nuclei comes together
as the perfect absorber Her words the linear
line equal to. Musicality related verbs in genre.
The Flow. he walz the Flow.
The Quonset could be used. If Digging and Berming it
would be feasible and suitable for the task. The flat area
is unique enough for a house.
by: Dr. Moun Anion Ampere
Ensign Dynamic Inc.
A Company Electron Entity
of Brusa Crom Music LLC
Bundle and Game Matrix
of Blackbody Physics
and Subwoofers
Brusa and Kantanka
" Bassa De Tremble"!
Written: November 21, 2023
_________________________________________
Amid the shooting stars, there is a lot of zeal
While satellites start spinning in various ordeals
Even blinking lights on the aircraft while in flight
Boost the vibe and thrill stargazers with delight.
Over the day, the sun swings from east to west
The stars in the sky seem to be taking a rest
But at dusk, when the earth appears to sleep
I eagerly await the night to uncover its awe-deep.
Their light cuts so deeply into the abyss.
Lifting our tired minds out of a deep remiss
They whisper wisdom that only sages can hear
Leading us on an adventure without fear.
Winds whispering, a breath, a soft kiss
Grasping leaves in serene nature bliss
Each zephyr conveys secrets across the air
Unbearable layers of love are beyond compare.
Stars dance unfettered amid the vastness
Often pondering sitting with skeptic madness
Is that a star or a satellite? Am I seeing beauty?
It's feasible for love, as a torn face, to seem sooty.
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