I am a free bird
I wanna travel the world
Yet I am scared of having to give up on things
I am scared of never fitting in
Of knowing too many people
And never having a friend
I cry a lot
I don’t really know why
I miss my dogs
And my cat
I wanna hold onto people
Knowing I cannot
I struggle to understand this
Sometimes
The concept of being an azaad parinda
Interfering with the very idea of having connections in this earthly life
I kinda like singing, I guess
I spent eight years training in dance though
Never could breathe freely
Was too scared yet good
Not knowing what I was doing
Kinda freeing kinda stuck
Like your legs in a bog
In a long lost forest
With no one to hear you screaming
Except for the early critters
Not the very best word
But overthinking means losing the flow
And I am feeling this way
After a really long time and
I’m not really ready to give up on this once again
Memory recalls epiphanies gone by,
which although are but signposts along the way,
the fact that they’ve appeared, we cannot deny,
interfering with heart’s spontaneous play,
which would if it could, let bygone moments die,
so instead of holding such thought forms at bay,
we embrace and release each impulse received,
no attainments sought, no cause to be aggrieved.
Memory is too honest a word for something
That keeps arriving without consent
It shows up in timing
Not thought
A pause where there shouldn’t be one
A second that refuses to move on
I don’t call it back
It just occurs
Like a system running a process, I did not start
Nothing about it asks to be understood
It only proves it still runs
And I stop interfering with it
Because interference
Is where it learns my name again
Epiphanies that dawned do not replay
and whilst we wish they would, we remain still,
interfering not with the divine play,
for we have fully surrendered our will.
Boons bestowed always exceed heart’s desire,
thus if we seek, we must settle for less,
so as we transmute as God’s sublime fire,
what lies ahead we prefer not to guess.
In midst of these musings, bliss rapture spikes,
arising from a centreless fulcrum,
spasms manifesting where magnetism strikes,
as within heart echoes the cosmic drum.
The soul star chakra taps us on the head ~
Of secrets divine, what more can be said
I decided to stop writing poems in long hand
Trixie my muse kept running away with my pen
I knew it was her, because the thoughts were assertive
She is the only one here more determined than me
She laughed at my efforts and began interfering with my typing
I would think I had typed one thing, but had typed another
I knew it was her; she thinks she is the leader of the band
It’s not like she argues with me in a civilized manner
It is as if she grabs the ideas out of my brain and tosses them
Replacing them with her own missives, songs and poems
Some days I do not recognize anything I have written
Because they were not written by me. Trixie is snickering.
Endearing Ms Eilish not willy nilly a silly Billie got her wish despite the stares
Crys of why guys are there any let alone so many glutton button billionaires?
Not adhering to age old sage adage share if you've enough stuff to spare
Uncouth domineering untruths sold smearing sleuths as society tears
Sneering about profiteering mining shining spiting climate crisis scares
Cheering racketeering careering all about that flocks stocks & shares
Leering snares creatives gold left bereft fearing they're not their flair heirs
Persevering with cold jeering at hearing protests that then fold no one cares
Scold civic critics nearing the facts spearing by acts.. pacts & unfair flares
Cost of disappearing rare species now just pieces of faeces in their lost lairs
Searing temperatures rearing still somehow our despairs never even airs
Gearing up for the veering apocalypse peering as the sun stun gun glares
Must be bold steering pioneering derring do clearing these nightmares
Who dares volunteering to stop the interfering engineering by the billionaires?
What if our planet is sentient
In ways we don’t understand
And we by out actions have
Upset events it had planned,
Brought forward change
By hacking down the trees,
And Interfering in many ways
That just didn't please.
On a body the size of a planet
We are just like irritant fleas,
Or maybe to be considered
As an invasive skin disease.
Perhaps a period of vulcanism
Would quickly clean the skin
Clearing any infestation
Allow new things to begin.
First came grass and weeds,
Followed by spreadIng trees,
Skies full of returning birds
Flitting insects, droning bees.
Animals occupied
Ruins left by man
Earth slowly returned
To its interrupted plan.
Soon the shreds of
Plastic waste
Being Man’s only
Lasting trace.
In a very short time
Mankind had gone
Earth had shrugged
And just carried on
Perhaps the next infestation
Would be more compliant
To the wants and needs of
Its benevolent host giant.
A minuscule spot of dust
In a universe so vast
Without concern for any
Concepts of future or past.
it comes alive, stirring the soul
waking the spirit to a world
painted by snowfall’s gentle brush
like a white canvas, the first steps
across the blanketed path
leave imprints of hope, imprints
revealing what it means to see
silence at war with nature’s breath
it laughs at the hurried steps
of a heart rushing past
autumn’s light as she breathes
her caress, against the sun
who blends with the forest
to calm every ache, each storm
beyond the music of the leaf’s
quiet fall, the dance of fall
silence, she weeps through it all
her pen soothing away the sound
interfering with her muted breath
they lurk everywhere
religious fundamentalists
preying upon the unwary
stalking, seeking to convert
anyone they can get hold of
for them it is a do or die mission
attempting to thrust their faith
upon innocent bystanders passing by
interfering with God-bestowed free will
pursuing their ‘cause’ brazenly in public
what drives them to do this we wonder
as they go around waving posters
pictures, symbols, quotes from scriptures
but the truth of the matter really is
they have not seen God face to face
we apologise if we sound judgmental
but had the religious fundamentalists seen God
they would have realised the simple truth
that He is formless living light and agape love
and we likewise are as He, made in His image
when will the blind stop leading the blind?
we wish we could
heal hearts remotely
gently and anonymously
without of course interfering
since love employs no use of force
as we wish so it is we are empowered
to become a beacon of healing light
writing in braille for recipients blind
that the estranged draw nearer
voluntarily as willed by God
The endless Forest is showcasing,
The beauty of Nature ,so satisfying.
Green and green everything,
Where life is the most happening .
Nature’s harmony on its whole swing,
As if all have got virtual wings.
So soothing and life defining,
Nature itself is rehearsing .
To witness this is amazing,
Proposition of life is redefining.
Negativity is quickly receding,
Positivity is strongly magnifying.
Yes nature is still self-sustaining,
If we are not interfering .
Let me be a part of this learning,
It secretly touches my soul’s lining.
Nature and its divine dealing,
Always promotes self-healing.
on an as is where is basis
we notice vibrational shifts
at play within feeble form
is observing interfering
with spontaneity of bliss
that seeks to make us whole
the line of inquiry itself signals
presence of ego writhing
drawing soul back in lower mind
our bilocating consciousness
makes peace with polarities manifest
merging with the cosmic gong ohm
waking up in the dead of night
we notice our form is bliss energised
signalling the master has been at work
even when our conscious mind was asleep
so assigning no meaning to play of magnetism
we rest quietly in a continuum of attentive alertness
neither seeking nor negating any offering of grace
since to do either would amount to interfering
therefore mindfully maintaining the balance
we remain thus poised in vibrant stillness
bilocating between form and space
mental associations mitigate effervescence
interfering by manifesting desired outcome
so looking nonchalantly at these stirrings
we reject ego’s counsel rooted in ignorance
a constant watchful eye and tranquil heart
sets soul free from the tendency to stagnate
thus moment by moment, shedding resistance
in agendaless vibrance, we dwell in the void
the witness witnessing
is in truth interfering
with spontaneity
what are we to do
save entering trance
melding with the bardo
in the void we transform
by becoming the flame
resplendent with light
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