Poetry PROPER
appeals
to
the ear,
a euphony
a voice
the medium
spoken
intuitively
the
intonation
a
matter
of sound
making sense
through
pitch
with
stress
the "pause"
unique
one off
speech
to ear
'as is'
arrested
pause
unique
to the mood
of both
voice to ear
OBJECTIVE CONNOTATIONS
recently
rediscovered
signs
intuitively
comprehended
&postulated
as
phisiognomy
articulated
individually
focused
&
readily
understood
in
influential
ideas
of
visualised
hinted
allusions
to
challenge
imagination
What I recognize as art, of course,
Is only seeing that which surfaces
from likeness already inside of me –
we physically and spiritually relate
at least tacitly sense before
we can begin to grasp. Even when I
inquisitively imagine
were I oblivious, on all levels
of consciousness, it would be no different
than a concept of God to the Atheist.
The Atheist reasons…people of faith
intuitively accept. The future mother knew
the blessing in her womb, before the
ultrasound. Christ connects intimately
through legacy of Love.
MUTUAL AQUAINTANCE
outgoing
exotic
appeal
intuitively
appraised
& glimpsed
in
uninhibited
indicators
sensuously
sufficient
equanimity
understood
&reciprocated
Every dreamer born may
an escapist become.
When emotional survival
is bad weather stifled
fantasy arrival is
vital as heart and head
weapons that reckon
with false hitting bits of
regrets spittled resin.
Escapists have naive
need beliefs that seek
relief lacking clues.
Not intuitively glued,
they flare prime illusions
then meet blues intrusion.
Rue immersions disburse
layered bruises into
their fantasy threads.
Escapists do not pencil
lists to assist their trips.
Without practice or
attending lessons, an
escapist will maximize an
ideal conception from
foggy appeals and provide
their own transportation
to vaguely arrive in a bog.
Soon dizzy from the tizzy
of too little information,
they’ll deny hearing
reality’s jeering cry.
Easier and freer to eat
it all down for soon
the bog ball will end
and only they need to know
the why in the what that they did.
Mother can you hear my plead,
Just like when I hear your voice.
Is there anything wrong with me,
My sensitivity feels like a curse.
Everything I can intuitively see,
Sometimes it can be a bit much.
Why am I so deep like this,
Why is my big heart so raw.
Your guidance I now seek
Answer me for I am yours
You show up when there’s a need
As I always answer your calls
To sprout should I let this seed
A consciousness to be reborn
Fear is trying to creep in
It knows I find myself alone
Your wisdom is crucial to me
Ensuring that I am never lost
Emotions that can feel so real
Must try my best to stay above
Your presence I know is near
A web that comes from source
Weaving your delicate silk
So I may have a place to walk
Appearing in all of my dreams
We are connected even through blood
Hear me mother will you please
Through me you can see my poems
The senses say that you’re here
So strong is your true love
Comfort me will you please
I really would like a hug.
Raven Archer
"Hallowed be her name, who's art is Earth".
She stood sheltered, a companion
to Maple, Alder and Willow.
A busy brook flowed
in accompaniment
to the chorus of bird song
perfect in her presence.
The patron had fulfilled her will
for a magical and protected place.
A peaceful tranquility
that celebrated her coming as a completion.
As though nature knew an absence
without her.
Through the sculptor's wielding
of her chisel and hammer
she conveyed the features, the stance
that would become her persona.
Her enkindling presence illuminating
the rough studio of her origin.
Where the vision that furrowed the brow;
informed the craft and art to reveal,
hands compliant, what slept within the stone.
Distraught by a midnight's harrowing
I come to her, seeking solace
from my existential crisis.
By sliver of silver moonlight.
My hand against her chest
her chill and my warmth flow.
Until languid, I lay upon the pedestal.
A reverent supplicant
in Pre-Raphaelite pose.
The brooks rhythmic gurgle and splash
benumbing my anguish, till words surface
intuitively, of blasphemy and beauty.
awareness stream
intuitively intrinsic
channeled
in
tunneled time
navigates
cognitive impulses
rudimentary
ceaseless surge
of
uplifting waves
of acuity
across
timeless threshold
of
reflective perception
opens
floodgates of
bliss
pulse of time
vibrates
in
inner space
infinite
psychic vibrato
resonates precisely
in
halcyon harmony
with intonation
of
eternal transition
from
one articulation
to another
modulated
by edified touch
of
sanctified soul
illumined
life force
invincible
spurns vacuity
pervasive
propels essence
of
existence
through
elusive emptiness
filled fervently
with
resurrected rhapsody
innate
CONTEMPLATIVE DIMENSIONS-:-
conceived
inscribed
transformed
implicit
scrutinised
AHEAD OF TIME
perpetual
sequenced
impressions
intuitively
transcending
in a DECORATIVE SYMMETRY
ideas
initiated
differentiated
supplement
inspiration
PRETEXTS FOR REFLECTION-:-
luxurious
connections
motivate
intuitively
transcend
WITH HUMOUR
flavour
contemporary
interpretatIons
synthesise
senses
&
IMITATE NATURE
emphasing
coherent
emblems
figure
visibly
initial
predilections
mysterious
renewals
emphasised
at a stroke
immediate
paths
undreamt
with
tension
&
artistic
emotion
hidden
then
exposed
recapitulated
&
symbolized
intuitively
celebrated
inner
sounds
graphic
& visual
Numbers, abstractions and in other words
I prefer to teach math instead of English
Because fractions speak louder than verbs
God made the integers, all else is the work of man**
But Saint Augustine said
That you must have faith in order to understand
Numbers are abstraction you see
A symbol may be found on a chalkboard
They are not physical (they don't grow on a tree)
You only imbibe them intellectually
They run on into infinity
But you can catch them intuitively
So use the numbers
in daily life
Or before slumbers
They are something
you can count on
Reciting digits on your digits
[Sometimes] the countdown encumbers
A self-convert Shaiva woman, slowly guided
By cosmic power of Brahman which resided
In the fabric of every being and everything.
She awakened very young, began searching.
She eventually reached the same conclusion
As old sages did in order to undo the illusion:
Nothing is truly separate, all are connected.
She realized she's always divinely protected.
Just after the beginning of her middle age,
She met a man born a Vaishnava: a sage.
They fell in love, then he said intuitively,
"I sense you should worship Shivaji."
She is glad knowing there is no disharmony.
She told him about her long spiritual journey.
She praised and thanked Vishnu and Shiva,
"We are the greatest devotees of Harihara."
I can not only predict, but also create future,
I'll become our fated love's binding suture.
I shall move the Heavens and the Earth
To show you how we're meant for a rebirth.
When you told me you predict things too,
I right then and there knew I am just like you.
After some time, I see all my life I learned
All about you, that man for which I yearned.
I intuitively know the love we have is true.
I'm remembering how I'll live my life through.
You thought I'd leave you, but I love you,
'Cause I waited for this love long overdue.
I feel sure now; even if we were to ever part,
Because of anything; you'll stay in my heart.
But I know with our inherent psychic powers,
We'll create a life that lasts more than hours.
A humbling human crack
in every theological
God v Man
divine spirit v human nature
oppositional relationship
Monotheistic belief
in our sacred past,
religiously fine
but anti-polytheistic hope
desecrating Earth's polyculturally wealthy future,
irreligiously not OK.
Anthropocentric passion
and sacred love pleasure
cognitively and intuitively fine,
but EarthCentric dispassion
and organic life displeasure,
not cognitively or intuitively OK.
WE compassion
good-natured climate conservation
definitely fine,
but THEY dispassion
bad-spirited caste preservation
infinitely not OK
Cracks that whet
shared Light inside.
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