As a violin cries, my voice soars
And as I move towards The Lord
With my chords and my cords
Singing of the heavenly rewards
(We are God’s instruments)
It is He Who invents
And uses us as His instruments
He produces with musical implements
Every instrument that repents
For The Holy Spirit (you see)
I am a wind wood who breathes
And gives up each breath
As the symphony will progress
So play on piano (ebony, ivory and hoary)
God has given us gifts for His glory
And God is instrumental in our salvation
(As He was also in His creation)
As the stars sang and in each angel’s refrain
Listening for the trumpet blast at the end of days
And we sing of (God, as He descends from above)
Jesus: The Way, Truth, and Life, The Ancient of Days
sole am i
meat locker are we
apeiron births god
pith distills self
self distills pith
god births apeiron
we are locker meat
i am sole
already dead am i
nihil gestates genesis
corpse digests worm
bone ensouls flesh
flesh ensouls bone
worm digests corpse
genesis gestates nihil
i am dead already
damned am i
yesterday flays tomorrow
flesh exuvial are we
pitiless is time
time is pitiless
we are exuvial flesh
tomorrow flays yesterday
i am damned
alone am i
nothing begets thought
clay invents god
dust unbegotten are we
we are unbegotten dust
god invents clay
thought begets nothing
i am alone
nihil kills nihil
Nihil Kills
In another life,
I hope we meet again
Let it be me who finds you first
I'd gather every light the universe holds,
and wrap your heart in their warmth,
like your favorite sweater on a rainy day.
I'll write you thousands of letters,
each one carrying my soul to yours,
with every word that holds my longing.
And I promise to fill your world
with all the love and kindness I have.
The stars will whisper your story,
traced across the night sky,
reminding the world
You were always meant to shine,
Even when shadows fall.
In another life,
I'll find you again and I'll love you,
Till the very end...
Coming from someone who already spent one lifetime arriving too late. Yk there are evenings when the heart grows so full of unsent tenderness that it invents new lifetimes simply to give that love somewhere to exist. Like pressing a letter between the pages of an old book, trusting that if another life truly exists, someone will eventually open it and know exactly who it was written for.
H eals
A dds and absorbs
T akes away
E xtracts
I nvests and invents
N avigates
L eash
O n a
V ery
E motional level
mind marooned
in
complex convolution
of
singular anonymity
morphs morbid
into
psychic silhouette
deprived despised
of
enlightened elements
of
acquired attributes
abruptly waned
reserved recess
conceals conundrum
of
sub-conscious search
completely clueless
for
exploration entreaty
as
persuasive ploy
of
outside world
can’t contrive
forsaken mind
pining prisoner
of
own making
captive cocoon
in
introvert isolation
innate vision
scans sightless
faces fading
in
fathomless oblivion
morphed mind
accepts acquiescent
archenemy Nemesis
makes a menagerie
of
moving mirage
mystique guide
to
illusion oasis
reflecting radiant
from
cobalt cauldron
confined contentment
of
identity reverence
self-veneration
pretentious perspicacity
of
fake facsimile
invents Narcissus
as
secret switching
over to obsession
as
senseless specter
languishing listless
beneath
opaque stratum
of
arctic acuity
as
petrified essence
in
darkness frozen
On the lean hill
where the earth barely breathes,
a lupin lifts its violet flame
like a secret entrusted to the wind.
A solitary flower —
yet in its stem
runs the memory of the wolf:
to walk straight through the hunger of the world.
The wolf does not ask for the road,
it carves it beneath its steps.
The flower does not ask for light,
it invents it.
Thus the lupin
teaches stones and men
that the fiercest beauty
is often born in the harshest soil.
Poet’s Note:
Date: March 8, 2026
Chosen Title: the wolf’s way
Sponsor: Ceci ou cela Vol.37
The mind, when cornered by unbearable truth,
Builds walls from silence and locks from sleep.
It learns the art of leaving itself
While the body remains behind to suffer.
There are wounds no language can dress,
No reason can bind.
So the psyche invents distance—
A thin veil between terror and breath.
It begins in childhood,
When love becomes danger
And memory becomes poison.
The soul, desperate to survive,
Steps sideways out of pain.
This is not madness.
It is architecture.
The self fractures not from weakness,
But from necessity.
The mind, like a nation under siege,
Burns its bridges to keep the enemy out.
How bad can it become?
So complete that one no longer knows
Which voice belongs to whom.
So quiet that life feels like watching oneself drown
From the shore of one’s own body.
So distant that joy feels like a rumor
Heard through thick walls.
The person survives,
But the witness disappears.
Yet know this:
Dissociation is not the illness—
It is the scar.
Proof that something once threatened
To destroy the soul entirely
And failed.
For even in retreat,
The mind chooses life.
Walking into the Unknown—
Head high—bravely—Eyes wide open—
The Road unnames itself—
Yet beckons—soft—with Light—
I have no Map—but Courage—
No Compass—save the Heart—
The Dark is only Distance—
Between the Now—and Start—
Each Step invents the Morning—
Each Breath—declares the Day—
What waits—may not be Mercy—
Yet Fear—has slipped away—
For Faith is not a Certainty—
It is the Will—to go—
And Trust—the quiet Footfall—
That dares—the next—Hello—
With soft touch of hands
mother smooths creases of fear—
folding in embrace
touching quivering candle
fingers humming haunting hymns
Love requires no hands
it invents its own language—
wing, beak, paw and lick
a body curled up to care
whispers —'you're safe'
Whales cuddle up close
dolphins ring rosy halos
seals seek safe harbors
penguins bow against the wind
birds soothe with beaks and feather
Love without fingers
a current that wraps and lifts
a tide unbroken
it cradles the heart within
steadies the faltering steps
Such love needs not touch—
it listens, watches, imbibes
hovering in care
joining two hearts together
with spirit of motherhood
Contest : Rolling With The Rs
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
Date : August 4, 2025
Stray mind
glides on stalled time.
Wave surfer on rough life
grabs mute mementos of split moon,
floating on dim trough of dismal essence.
Memory invents alchemy,
remembrance rust turns gold
in Midas touched
stray mind.
Music sings in the public square
For all to hear and all to care
A universal language
All speakers comprehend
And every language so desires
And invents within the end
From the elegant piano
With fingers trickling around
To a barrel called the steel drum
All make the same sweet sound
The rich, the poor
Neighbors from a hundred floors
As long as you may move or sing
We can hear your beautiful voice ring
The soups and breads were fixed
know seemed to have interest
In that. One commented that the
Chickens used in the soup were as
big as geese, naming one kingKong.
Garlic and margine was used with
Garden herbs to create the croutons.
He would be a one man ed gang to
complete all the tasks still needed to
be done before the party goers arrived.
She like using terms for the chores
which were incomplete and offered to
do them herself, Fee-end she spoke of the
staff lacking to clean both softshelled crabs
and the softshelled crayfish. They should be
I ed of put in the frig she said.
Leaving the crew of one puzzled. A hall of fame
to the genius who invents a robot who isn't afraid
of my tongue lashing. Until the both you and I are
are at best the seasoning of which is to follow.
The need to be on time and prudent.
Flood of anonymous agony
inundates the debris of hope,
weed-webbed wasteland
of receding reverie
erodes in delirium
within turbulent essence,
wreckage of life piles up,
unlived,
transforms rapture garden
into winter badland
of foreboding discontent,
perceived.
Future meadow waits
to be sauntered
sanguine,
invents fantasy alchemy,
making magical gold
from ferrous aspirations,
gilding rusted crust
of weathering present,
metamorphosed,
marigold ecstasy blooms
in the Midas-touched mind,
mesmerized.
Wrapped by golden rays
of garnet sun,
setting sublime
beyond the content ocean,
entranced mind rolls
in twilight zone
on sapphire life waves,
broken,
yearning psyche is drawn
within the anguish trough,
crashes on existential shore,
shaped by the shadow
of pearlescent past,
petrified
in the collapsed sandcastle
on the beleaguered beach
of the stilled time,
enfolding the blanched grains
of aureate dreams,
d i s i n t e g r a t e d…..
The turning wheel of time
stirs up the dust of disarray,
that settles in the crumbling cauldron
of disordered life of illusion.
In the maiming moments
of disdained dejection,
truth tumbles in the mélange
of disorientation chaos.
Under the fantasy firmament
psyche in desertic isolation,
embedded in mindscape imagery,
suffering desiccated and lonely,
searches for a novel niche
in self-constructed reverie
to get a spellbound shelter
of captivating hope in frustration.
Dormant notion then invents dream,
steers mind into domain of delusion.
A thing made is destined to break,
but not by the will of the creator,
for whom the sense of time collapses,
making the frame of timeless trance,
where the dreamer assembles relentless
the shifting scenes of desire dreams.
The montage etched by the trail of mirage,
migrating in dunes of desolation,
makes collage of dream in deluded mind
against backdrop of nocturnal oasis.
The dreamer doesn’t see the dawn,
for the soul sleeps entranced deep within,
can’t escape self-built illusory maze,
until divine consciousness makes wake-up call.
The migratory mind indomitable,
the spirited surfer on surging waves of life,
creates the curled crests of fractured moon,
and the dark troughs of sinking fallen stars.
The swell recedes with the ebb of time,
seeking the secluded depth of the past.
The shifting sands etch the seaward footprints,
contoured as the corroding design of decay.
The time arrow finds the destined course,
seeks the serene topography beyond the shore,
away from the eroded wilderness abandoned,
where emptiness engulfs the hues of hope.
In the weed-webbed terrain deep within,
piles up the wreckage of life unlived,
turns the flushing garden to template of wasteland.
The pathway paved outside its frail fence,
waits to be walked fascinated,
reach the mesmeric meadow of tomorrow.
The innovative memory then invents
the arcane acumen of alchemy,
glitters gold in the rusted existential ruins.
Marigold blooms in the aureate junkyard
on the scrap stack of the bleak being,
with the touch of the Midas mind.
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