Lucid Poems

NEITHER LUCID NOR BLURRED

Surrounded by immortal elders at the at the door to heaven
I hear a voice of silence whispering in a solemnly tone.
That we have been blinded by the aesthetic fallacy 
Planted hemlock leading to eternal mortal as a price
A warning from moses' will be witnessed before it's time to rise


I'm traumatic and terrified, I close my

haiku : van Gogh

haiku : van Gogh


  sunflower souls speak
we hail our genius, true sight ~
lucid mind coloured  

JOURNAL OF A LUCID CONDEMNED

Too many bruises
to recall the story
of my scars.

Surviving all these disasters:
an invaluable blessing.

Remaining whole
in this jungle
where liars,
hypocrites,
and impostors
thrive.

No joy
in shining through cowardice,
submission,
and betrayal.

A procession of zealous traitors,
blinded by hatred.

Always on edge
since the placenta,
like a child soldier
forced to adapt
to human savagery.

Most of my wounds
are invisible.
Sometimes forced
to accept the darkness
of my shadows.

A gesture of charity
to hope for

Lucid dreaming

Slipping into sleep, we see the tumbler fall,
poised in stillness, remaining fully aware,
surfing astral realms, standing within them tall,
single eye seeing through illusions threadbare,
whence we pause flow of thought causing this dream squall,
that Self as living light, with God’s love may pair.
We then come back the way we went, stage by stage,
as begins a new

Lucid Dreaming

Your treasured memory flashes like a falling star from my mind's eternal sky 

It creates cosmic time loops where spirits from the tomb gather 

While old conversations, like white snow, falls 

As time no longer flies
With such glitz and glamour 

And whenever I see your face amongst others again in that time loop 

As in,

Within this lucid dream

Abstractions rely on the manifest,
as immanent souls too seek transcendence,
providing for presence a merry fest,
realising life’s interdependence.

Negating nothing, embracing the all,
in is-ness of the now, we just allow
influx of bliss mists wherein we stand tall,
knowing, not naming, the eternal Tao.

All mental concepts to us are the same,
for we are now poised in the vibrant void,
awaiting

I awoke from Illness at the age of forty-five, calm and lucid

I awoke from Illness at the age of forty-five, calm and lucid,
In reasonable health, with a weakened liver and a face of borrowed flesh,
The sunrise made its way through the window, settling on my shoulders like a veil,
As if, stepping out of the fog of suffering, I had entered a world forgotten for its beauty.
My

The Space of Dreams

(“Dark Pool of Light Nebula”, 2011, original oil)

The Space of Dreams

The space of dreams is a mysterious place.
Where exactly is it? Some would quickly say
Only within the neural nets of our brains,
Where dream memories are stored,
But to say the dream itself is also there
Seems far too limiting.

In dreams I have certainly been in familiar scenes
With

Pulse of the Poet's Abyss

In my chambers where phantasmagoria undulate
    not as vigilant watchers but as mnemonic parasites
    I ruminate—
        no longer a singular entity but a disjointed duality
            my quintessence a quivering quasar
 

Navigating lucid dreams

Given that spirit can assume any form,
the manifestations that in dreams appear,
may conceal intent, appearing to be warm,
revealing their true colours, as they draw near,
so be it a placid lake or a dark storm,
if our eye be single and heart free from fear,
God in us embraces, God in shape beheld,
that so emoting love, darkness is

In a lucid dream

In a lucid dream, which seemed so real,
atop a hill I saw monks, in deep trance
and although their eyes were closed, I could feel,
dance of living light, in their bodies prance.

Wonderment being my heart’s undertone,
silent bliss thunder pervaded my form,
etched deep within my core, so mine to own,
thus in timeless time, I became the storm.

I

Lucid Dreams

 Last night I dreamt that I was dancing 
in soft foggy mists designed in 
pearly bows, frolicking from 
thin fluffy silver waves- 
blanketing moonlit 
skies within hour
less hills and 
jasmine 
fields
free
flowing 
through blue bliss
lakes, in lucid 
motions, as seamless 
ripples reflect a sweet
rhapsody of a golden 
rose sprouting amidst glistening
rays, as I name mauve

Lucid Vision

My heart throbs fast while panic does linger on

beholding child who frees himself from wheelchair

there soaring high toward triumph against pain

devoid of spasm midst sweet smile, running gladly…      

then I awake to thank the Lord* for peace-glow.

*Psalms 136:1 136 O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for

In This Lucid Dream

If we be complete,
bliss drenched, head to feet,
why then do we choose,
to betray our muse?

From heaven to earth,
opting for rebirth,
to replay refrains,
that heart love ingrains.

Life’s a dream of course,
yet we feel remorse,
so descend to feel
hurts that we may heal.

An easier way,
is to sit and pray,
letting go of thought,
that’s ego begot.

Sans thought, ego dies,
soul flies to

Airing My Lucid Mind

There is a vendetta of thoughts going on within me
But how do I air it out?
I fear if I may orate it, not all might give me their ears
If I may scribble it, not all might scroll their eyes over it.
How do I say all the things within me?

Then I let go of these lucid

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