Long Unawakened Poems
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There's a mellow little fellow
Selling tiny pills of yellow
Counting tens, he's counting tens
There's a girl and she's all curled up
On the curb and she could surely
Use a friend, she could use a friend
Everyday I see their faces
All the dazed, the unawakened
And confused, unawakened and confused
Sleepy people, some are sheeple
Some are evil, could be me
That could be you, that could be you
All the sleepy people
White for harvest in the field
Pray for all the sleepy people
If we don't then who else will
Someone's screaming like a demon
Someone's scheming up
Some devious plan, some devious plan
While the throng of lost and lonely
Glued to phones don't even know
What world they're in, what world they're in
Just a quick glance at the news stand
Nothing but man's
Inhumanity to man, inhumanity to man
While the preacher on the street here's
Telling everybody
How the story ends, how the story ends
All the sleepy people
White for harvest in the field
Pray for all the sleepy people
If we don't then who else will
See that kid throwing a fit
He's slinging fists
At an invisible man, an invisible man
An old woman worries, rummaging
For something she might
Never find again, never find again
Painted tears on clowns you fear
The walls have ears, people are weird
And mirrors lie, yeah mirrors lie
As we're spinning through infinity
If speed don't heed you
Gravity just might, gravity just might
All the sleepy people
White for harvest in the field
Pray for all the sleepy people
If we don't then who else will
In the depths of my weary soul, I ponder,
Upon the choices made and paths forsaken.
A wistful whisper echoes, a song of wonder,
Of the road I did not take, now left unawakened.
Through veils of time, my memories unfold,
To a crossroad nestled 'neath a golden sky.
Two divergent trails, enticing and bold,
Each beckoning with a promise, I can't deny.
The first, paved with comfort and known terrain,
Lured me with familiarity's gentle embrace.
A steady path, devoid of fear and strain,
A life of ease, a tranquil resting place.
But the other, oh, the other was wild and untamed,
An uncharted journey, fraught with mystery.
Adventures aplenty, untold stories unclaimed,
A tempest of emotions, rapturous and free.
Yet fear gripped my heart, with its icy hold,
The uncertainty of the untrodden way.
What if I stumble? What if I grow cold?
What if my dreams falter, and my spirit wanes?
Regret now whispers softly in my ear,
Of the road I did not take, the path unexplored.
Its voice grows louder, fueled by the years,
A haunting echo of dreams forever ignored.
For life is a tapestry, woven with threads,
Of choices and chances, both great and small.
And though I've embraced the path that I tread,
The road I did not take still echoes its call.
But fret not, my weary soul, for it is not lost,
That road untraveled, its magic still remains.
For in dreams and musings, its beauty embossed,
A cherished longing, forever ingrained.
So, let me celebrate the choices I've made,
Embrace the road I have ventured upon.
For even as I wonder, my heart unswayed,
The road I did not take has made me strong.
And as I journey forward, with purpose and grace,
I'll carry the lessons of paths left behind.
For in the tapestry of life, every road finds its place,
And in the end, I'll cherish the road I did not take.
equating dreams
as thought forms
by heart conjured
we pause the cause
of such movement
getting to the roots
body identification
also termed as ego
negating nothing
we examine desire
that so manifests
deluded cravings
again and again
needing fulfilment
in this life or the next
until thirst is quelled
surreptitious ego
offers specious logic
that we may accept
validity of illusions
of unawakened soul
and thereby stagnate
in our thought spirals
dreams within dreams
our soul is hypnotised
by illusions self-created
and so we live in trance
unaware of our true Self
resident in toroidal heart
being eternal living light
the very essence of God
albeit veiled from sight
Plato’s allegory of cave
defines our predicament
we acknowledge not light
nor align with sublime love
refusing to enter silence
preferring to be a captive
of our conditioned belief
a tragicomic tale indeed
penchants for doing things the right way
unhinge the knighted sky shot full with holes
twinkle twinkle little star, you burn so very
bright, where have you all gone? home you say,
dancing the edges of madness’ thin veils
containment slotted through the IS’s of
consecutive sequenced selfs, unawakened
self-righteous indignation, plagiarize the
potential for adulterated emotions
conspicuous lapse of good judgment
right the scales of too much this or that,
the arms of balance form both positive
and always behind the seen, negative imagery
this land whirls the positive insisting it’s
our only reality of expression, negative quivers
with pretence experienced as a landscape
of oblivion ensued from forgetfulness...always is
a this and a that, a hat and a cat, a louse and a mouse.
Always is...
those of us who caught or chased our love in every field
knew her best by memories that we caught.
anvils that we stood upon gave grain to find our shield
leave our stain upon the earth with every word we brought
thought we to gaze and see, sought we to touch and feel,
each passing thought, raised as boulders meant for hearts of steel.
we sought to know the grass by every blade
Trailed beside our breath all ghosts; known to us as shade.
we carried dreams in envelopes that were too tightly sealed
wherein past hearts all lay encased inside of marbled stone.
with dagger nightshade curtains cast aside and hands held high
to grasp between the fight that sought that space within us all,
where poems of each reside; inside a breast whose eyes
see far beyond the light.
those of us to whom it mattered what we hunted for and found
in waking sleep few mortals come to know.
we danced inside a rhythm found, inside life’s unawakened sound;
and felt a kiss upon our soul that only God bestows.
those of us who caught or chased our love in every field
treasured coins unspent and serpent’s tongue unheard;
manufactured fields in which we married, marched, or kneeled
tripped each crumbling trap unsprung by mottled deed or word.
things our Science told us we could never hope to touch;
and yet like breathing, life sometimes had weight;
and though we never tested footsteps taken without crutch
each fall was one step forward into never ending fate.
we carried on our backs the weight of minions gone before
at times our journey slow, at times forlorn.
but in the end the corner turned, stood we with shaken core
full circle to become again, in wonder, life reborn.
one or zero may be all we thought that we would hold;
but those of us who caught or chased our love in every field
gave this world Eternity and shaped it to unfold;
laid bare the mystery there to find, a mirrored God Revealed.
We go through waking, dreaming and deep sleep,
imbibing impressions in accordance with our awareness,
strangely making peace with our self-evident ignorance,
living by instinct, investigating not the truth of our being,
content in nurturing aspirations of decaying body-mind.
Even though we intuitively recognise heart as our centre,
for that is where glimmers of love and light as yet sparkles,
we negate soul’s truth impulse and wallow in the shallows,
in bondage to the incessant cravings of wayward ego,
which offers neither joy in permanence nor wisdom we seek.
Are we an ephemeral entity hanging like a puppet on a string,
an organism seemingly sentient to relay impressions garnered,
a plaything of a loftier consciousness controlling our destiny,
including the way we think, feel, respond and enact our role,
as we flounder about oscillating between fears and desires?
We feel like an object within a dream conjured by a dreamer,
in that we are hemmed in by limitations and have no free will,
for as long as our mind is unconscious and heart unawakened,
we are simply drifting through life like a dead man walking,
full of deluded self-importance whilst knowing not who we are.
Now, if the character in the dream chooses to become detached,
nonchalant to outcomes and becomes a witness to its existence,
this silent rebellion by thought cessation ends the dream sequence,
whereupon the dreamer, the subject and the dreamed object merge,
that both as one awake together within the drama being so enacted.
Extrapolating from this line of intuitive introspective contemplation,
we opt to meld our head with the heart in resonation with love,
animating our attention in agendaless vibrance innate to our being,
bilocating between this here duality manifest and singularity unmanifest,
thus transcending by becoming both immanent and transcendent.
"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened"
by Anatole France
Animals: all the various kinds
every shape or color I'd choose
I'd love them all, not one left behind
in my longed-for garden's earthy hues
And, for each one, a home with nice views.
In my garden, two squirrels you'd find
for each needs a friend that looks the same.
Cows, lookiing so sweet, you know they're kind
and, of course, only those that are tame
Thus, no lioness with tousled mane.
Rock Island hens, and the birds in flight
a chorus of songs from those that sing,
Bunnies, puppies, kittens, black or white.
To all creatures, this wish I would bring
a warm home, safe far from winter's sting.
You will have to fight to survive
Whispered the guardian angels
Watching over me
As I was swivelling in between the folds
Of consciousness lapsed in deep sleep!
You will have to fight
Even if we will be by your side!
My soul woke up, bloomed into a hurt heart
And it whispered back,
Why should I fight for it
If such is not what was chosen for my fate?
Pray, I would accept Death even if such was what was
Deemed best for me
I would accept anything except having to fight
For that which was never destined for me!
Why should I fight?
Is Life on Earth a battlefield?
Are we to fight for survival, for love, for security?
This is getting way too heavy for my frail stature
Guardian angels, muse of my poetry,
This is getting way too heavy
Pray, if life, or love is not meant for me
Then may I denied of it!
I don't believe in fighting for anything
The blinded and the unawakened fight,
Guided by their senses, by their egos
They fight for that which is transient, for that
Which is temporary, for that which turns to shadows
They fight for that which is not to be fought for!
Why, after all, Existence remains a mystery
Of our purpose here in this world we still have no idea
Struggling have I always been with life
And with everything that makes it up
Ever since I first dawned
Yet, I always held out my palms in resigned submission
To whatever life has to give me
I'd rather crumble, die, shatter into nothingness
Than fight!
“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” Anatole France, French Poet
A pet can steal your heart.
The dog that you brought home
who always wants to play
is one you come to know
you’ll never give away
A pet can steal your heart.
A precious kitty cat
at night curls up with you -
if ever she gets sick,
there’s nothing you won’t do.
A pet can steal your heart.
It doesn’t matter if
it’s very big or small
because when you are hooked,
you’ll give that pet your all.
A pet can steal your heart.
I know this truth because
when my dear pets passed on,
I sadly realized
bits of my heart were gone.