Watching a programme
Sunday afternoon
The television
Blacked out5 suddenly
No sound no picture
Today is Tuesday
Three days of silence
No sound no picture
Only quietness
My thoughts telling me
It is time to write
I now hear the words
The pen is ready
To glide on the page
Now I will begin
Without the t.v.
Now to spend the time
Creating a poem
Or reading a book
Or mediate
Meanwhile searching
For a new t.v.
It will take awhile
Until one is found
At a decent price
What we meditate upon is not God
The means by which we mediate is He
In staid silence disappear oh hermit
That truth of Self we mirrorlessly see
What If we all could sit down as one and listen to each other, no judgement, no anger, no hate, no divides just innocent minds listening to one another..no weapons, just be ONE…
What if we all could sit around a circle with JESUS in the middle to mediate and keep the PEACE…
What if we could put away our phones, social media, open our ears, close our mouths, and truly listen to one another with a open mind and a hand to hold.. just hold onto FAITH, on all types of matters, soft, sincere COMPASSION for each other, we do it in church, why not outside the church.
The thing is everyone’s so busy hustling in work, life, we’ve forgotten about having HEART, LOVE, even for our closest friends, because they don’t fit our MOLD for economic status, everything is a competition..
What if a friend would pick up their phone right now and call me, ask me how I’m doing, listen to my voice, you’d hear my true answer to “how are you doing today.”
With varying degrees of intensity,
my internal war rages on.
Freedom of choice vs. obligation to others,
a conflict that’s been fought since time’s dawn.
The battle requires a decision to be made
that personal responsibility must mediate.
Choosing a position to take is juxtaposed
to choosing a position to abdicate.
The skirmish renews each morning,
since the tempest percolates whilst I sleep.
There’s no option that involves fleeing
because the repercussion would echo too deep.
I long for a palatable solution,
which could usher in welcomed peace.
But my internal war will continue raging on,
'til I find an existential release.
in winter cold night,
mediate on fire flame
bless the poet soul
so flaming eternal flame
yet, calming the lover heart
The betrayal offences rendered on us daily unsettles swiftly progress.
They simmer and stir and spread.
Resentment, unforgiveness lead us to revenge.
Bitterness spreads so contagiously like a disease.
Infests and infecting all within reach.
God’s guidance keep my emotions in check.
Clear my heart of all distress.
As I mediate on your love and goodness
As feelings seem to resurface.
I seek your forgiveness,
You so graciously give.
Living with compassion and easily forgiving
is a commitment we must make.
After work, I look for a place to mediate;
and that place is a walking distance:
there we met, and started dreaming,
we were naive kids full of nonsense,
we blushed saying words without meaning...
those sweet whispers made our faces radiate!
On spring afternoons we hold hands and singing
we take the road that leads to the breezy beach:
we own everything, no soul is around watching;
and laughing we ignore the preacher's speech!
Did we know what was love all that time I played
the guitar and you sang a gospel or country song?
All in all, innocence and joy were expressed as God wanted
of us kids growing up in faith and spiritual understanding!
We are taking the road that leads to the breezy beach,
and after many years aren't we glad to relive moments
of the photo album that swift fingers turn to relish
our youth's days fading from pages, not hearts!
The road that leads to the breezy beach
is dull, it hasn't kept the same landscape;
do we see ourselves still young and in shape?
Is life so brief to grab what we can't reach?
Everyone was begging me to do something about my anxiety.
So I got into meditation.
So I mediate every day.
It was all on them.
Then it was all mine.
Forever, all mine.
As sad as it is,
It gets less daunting over time.
And more like-
This is heavenly.
And more like-
I will live forever if I keep this up.
For hours and hours,
Then more hours.
Then weeks go by, and it’s like-
I don’t know what a week means anymore.
I can’t remember what makes me weak, or what makes me strong.
But it’s all good, it’s all healthy.
And I don’t complain anymore.
And they don’t complain anymore.
the unconscious
a source of images&actions
in disguise&gestures
with slips of tongue
interpreted
with
simile&metaphor
of
libidinal desire
listening
to the unsound
made loud
opened
out of view
id&ego
expanded
frustrated freed
impulses exposed
as
universal symbols
from
the repository of memory
the fiction
of dream&myth
transitioned
into the realm
of reality
INSIGHTS
a delight to mediate
on green pasture
beside
quiet waters
on a profound
presence
pivotal patterns
rich
emblematic repetitive
to stimulate&arouse
the intellect
delight the muse
to pen
fetters freed
constraints&traits
enigmas &illusions
magnified
made
manifest
again
Acquaintance
harmonize
praise
optimize
&aspire
serenity
convey
bestow
believe
&bolster
perceive
perform
poise
persuade
&persevere
aplomb
support
sensation
nurture
&cuddle
magnify
maintain
manage
mediate
&motivate
cogitate
handle
heave
hoist
&hone
select
alternative
celebrate
compete
&connect
vanquish
reconcile
venerate
graciously
&vouchsafe
chivalrously
weave
weep
whisper
&withstand
unbuckle
reveal
understand
to untangle
&utterly
1st place contest winner
Written: March 08, 2023
Strand Premier No 1096 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
These arms are my olive branches
And these hands are my emissaries
They speak languages I cannot speak
And convey emotions I cannot always put into words
They have my full delegation to mediate on my behalf
To negotiate
To appreciate
To celebrate
Or to capitulate if required
They would like to think that they know you well
And they never ever tire of trying to know you better
Even as I try to sleep they are still obsessed with you
To assess you
To undress you
To caress you
To possess you is their desire
What can I say, they also know me well
It is only you who make us so inspired
They know who I love
And so they love you too, without reservation
Without hesitation
Without expectations
Often without invitation
Nor too much patience as you may have noticed!
They are naughty are they not?
These emissaries of mine
Without a doubt though, let me assure you
Your annoyance is not their intention
It is your pleasure that is their raison d’être
And for the next few nights, they’re really going to miss you!
New day,
Same people,
Different encounters,
Smiling faces,
Straight looks,
Together in a space,
Eyes fixed on you,
Ears wide open,
Minds set on the table,
Waiting to be fed,
Some craving for an overflow,
Some satisfied with the daily ration,
They say, “too much wearies the mind”,
The indolent and lethargic,
Just want to be fed,
Hands feeble to toil,
Lessons for today,
Lessons for every day,
Beyond paper and pen,
Beyond board and marker,
Disputes to settle,
Conflict to mediate,
A middle course to steer,
Wisdom and insight are
needed for each day,
Learning to learn,
Is the motto for each new day,
Making people,
Is the mission statement,
Taking away the dross and dregs,
Is the sole duty,
Helping them find their feet,
Is the ultimate goal.
May 13, 2022.
Zee and Dee could not get along for two seconds in class.
The teacher was hanging off a cliff by her worn down teeth.
I said I would try to figure it out.
Zee was super angry with Dee.
He could not stop yelling about it.
Dee and Zee came into my room together.
Dee casually mentioned they are brothers.
Zee is angry because ten months ago, his mother sent him away.
And she kept Dee.
I have a feeling this is not something a school counselor can solve.
I asked permission to tell their teacher they are brothers.
They were adamantly opposed to this.
No idea why
But I am keeping my mouth shut,
so, I can learn more
incase there is a next time.
I wonder if the “gods” have a union
a collective bargaining unit of sorts
to protect the language of their contracts,
mediate jurisdictional disputes,
proclaim that “all gods shall be compensated
in direct proportion to their minions devotion.
The “god” union would also have to discourage
any of the “gods” from breaking off to start another union
offering better or more lenient conditions.
Perhaps less severe response to crossing jurisdictional lines
allowing the minions to decide what union to join
which “god” to serve.
But wait, wouldn’t that open the door
for “open shop gods” who recognized no unions,
compensated “their” minions unequally,
offered little training, or job security?
But wait, shouldn’t all minions have the right
to work for any “god” they choose?
Who are these entrepreneurial “un-gods”
who choose to go it alone,
demand a slice of the celestial pie
and become a “god” unto themselves.
John G. Lawless
©11/24/2021
just thinking … that emotion is the new reason
unadulterated feeling removed from the brink of
a showcase of intuition relieved and narrated by
the heart at the threshold of sentiment and passion
conscience on the royal road to magic sensations
when the hyena of analysis morphs into a dolphin
a unicorn pokes the terrified bubble of the mind
and driftwood flies to the tune of a universal soul
recycled trash dissolves the mental heap of tips
of an iceberg polar bears and penguins transcend
madness as cure for insanity and crazy bedlam
if you discard the straightjacket of conjecture
refute the shackles prise open trapdoor’s springs
refuse to mediate between prescriptions and levitation
encourage the sleeping giant to rise to the challenge
stop to engage with a dangerous theatre of rationale
when bells and whistles chime and synapses jingle
and an inner pied piper heals the rat race of cogitation
the cogs of internal hamster wheels come off the trolley
spin on an axis of intuition and alite from just thinking
30th December 2020
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