Mode Poems - Poems about Mode

as the dreamer and dreamed both subject and the object all that matters is love’s vibrance bliss radiance rising unchecked to this end our will we bend melding head with the heart thus simply softening attention we feel within ignition start...

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God and soul are one so what we wish is done in hues of love and light betwixt bliss beats delight immersed in life’s lucid dream glimmers of truth now known breath by breath in stillness we come into our own...

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tip of nose quivers spatial heart listens the guru chakra hums light of Self glistens chambers of third eye open petal by petal throat and crown join in testing soul’s mettle spinal implants blossom poised to play their part our form is the canvas displaying this work of art...

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plugging energy leak we see we’re strong not weak the ‘we’ we allude to is bliss that does renew pervading every cell in this body-mind shell so as God’s magnetism in this organic prism as bliss beats take the lead fears and desires recede thus we become the flame here now in life’s end game...

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the event horizon collapses pure intent reshapes life’s lucid dream spontaneity free from desire manifests as a divine bliss stream soul is a diamond free from blemish pulse dual and single are the same divine expression is heart’s refrain descent and ascent, name of the game...

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no one comes and no one goes life as impulsed gently flows soul exits ego’s thought quiz all that remains ~ a bliss fizz...

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the spine stands erect medulla is pierced wherefrom bliss gushes in the head ovoid demure heart blushes...

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our third eye glistens perhaps it is time yet we seek nothing betwixt bliss beat’s chime there is no one here no lust to resist nobody ascends we are God’s bliss mist...

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as a co-creator with God is not our pure intent enough to assimilate love and light in life’s turbulent seas so rough our ego having vaporised who is the dweller of our heart the presence that burns and yet yearns feeling all as one, none apart...

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ear lobes tingle perhaps an elder calls so we soften attention as the tumbler falls...

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No relaxation Must keep my distance from you I see flashbacks of your face You don't have me trapped Your comments I will ignore I'm safe from your delusions ...

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detached compassion employs no use of force observing how winds blow and rivers run their own course as a part of the landscape exuding fragrance of a rose suffused in divine bliss mists the monk remains in repose...

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poised in the bardo at the in-between stage we become God’s bliss flame that within our form does so rage...

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palms and feet radiate magnetic heat with the supple spine, a divine implant, making us feel from head to toe complete, the cosmic prayer, our breath by breath chant, correcting the stance of our ego’s slant that thus as we so become the bliss flame, our vaporised Self is left with no aim...

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hollowed out form is filled with bliss, bestowed by Divine Mother’s kiss, rapture unbound in our heart found, whence we exclaim, ‘we’re all of this!’...

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