(“In the Beginning There Was the Word and the Word Was Good”, 2019, original pen and ink)
The All Good, The All Inclusive
Under the umbrella of relative truth
Is the absolute truth
That despite appearances
It’s all good.
Everything has its place
In a conscious universe
Where responsiveness
Is the prime directive.
Huh? I hear you ask.
Everything happens as it is
To perfectly match our needs.
All religions, philosophies, mythologies and lifestyles
Meeting the need of whoever finds it attractive.
This doesn’t mean it’s relatively good,
As clearly some styles and choices are bad,
It means it’s absolutely good
Simply because it’s absolutely inclusive.
Because the definition of the Universe
Of Life itself
Includes everything.
(9/2/25)
Give yourself to slumber
under ink black clouds.
Moon below the horizon,
light for when it’s dark.
Lie in peaceful presence.
Silhouette of the trees
mythologies reverberate
of songs, put us to sleep.
Dream of all the beings,
our kin gathered around,
flames flicker in shadows
mysteries of living found.
Maybe someday you’ll join us
under the sky’s moonlight.
Stories, song and dancing
long into the warm night.
I hope someday you’ll join us
maybe for just one tale.
World quiet from the fighting
a chance to just exhale.
The good news is that you and I
are legendary.
The not so comfortable truth is:
we are all legendary.
Maybe we will retain our intrinsic mythologies
in the next phase of existence,
but that’s really not good news you know
for we will once again be just legends.
Nevertheless come what may
we will always be heroes.
Your phoenix
By Michelle Morris
13/09/2022
The door has closed
Like the chapter of a book
It's time to know
The courage within you
You are strong and mighty
You can achieve anything
Embrace your phoenix
And rise up from the ashes
You are destined for greatness
For you are starlight within
The Universe has your back
And the Angels bless your wings
Spread your light and love
Be the healing this world needs
And your phoenix will be greater
Than the ancient mythologies
© Michelle Morris, 2022
All night he climbs his spinal cord,
up and down he goes
a worker ant
gathering globules of memory.
The bony spine itself
offers handholds for his ghosts.
At each spinal notch
he enters the swim
of sub-osseous neural bundles.
Images are scooped up,
mixed into an alphabet soup
of alternative realities.
He climbs upward only to pause stymied
at the brains tightly packed folds
listens as an outsider
to the down-time humming
of a million closed circuitry heartbeats.
There is too much convoluted counting there,
too much to harvest in one night,
and so he travels back down the cord
to a low-clouded complexity
where shrouded stems burst open
their dark flowers
to engulf the embryonic mythologies
of sleeping giants.
In the morning
he hears himself thinking:
the thoughts are loud
they beat upon the top of his skull
like starving children
trying to escape.
A kaleidoscope of transcendent rhythms
Envelop my soul from the well-spring of a mystical
and majestic refrain.
Notes exalted in the heart of the awakened one
Only to be extinguished by the cruel masters of
memory and time, which give way to a dystopian
perspective incessant and ominous in its vexation.
The purposeful formation of songs leave an
indelible mark upon a hopeful spirit, wishing,
waiting for that promise in the hidden
recesses of the earth’s core.
Joyful melodies from the fifth dimension bring an unexpected
solace which soothes and captures an unshakable truth
behind her existence, beside the travesty of the scattered
notes from a wandering, wavering and diminished heart.
The final call from an ancient composition propels the exhausted
woman to continue on, to push, press, proceed, persist,
Advancing as a general, engaging in the warfare deep
inside her womb, expelling the myths and mythologies
which imprisoned her, cajoled her, deceived her.
And now, the final rhythm belongs to her for this joyful moment
The songs of a thousand summers burst forth and bring her
into a new dawn, a new reality, a new way of life!
people are judged
it's what they leave
that counts time
for others 'as' they see
it in good or bad
to reveal peoples
light or dark sides
no matter who
fits where
in the popular mythologies
it is true for all things
of a beginning awaits an ending
that is a shut-off point
the internet serves itself
when failing to function
beyond the omega constant
that defines a mathematical precipice
for all programs of nature or mind
such as the environment and economies
the social fabrics and or lives
stan sand
We are here
and sometimes there
for each other.
How else could we support
this glad global network
of becoming?
Health is here
when abundant life is not over there,
just past some eastern sunrise horizon,
while I sulk and stain my past
missed opportunities
stalking toward, and balking against,
our appalling future
dodging unnecessary climate pathologies,
paranoid and dogmatic ethologies,
faithless loser psychologies,
frantic lose/lose unsurvival ecologies,
upside down logicalities,
out-chucked enculturing mythologies
settling for Left-Yang either/or toleration management
when we are designed for both/and
natural spiritualities.
We are rightmind here
and sometimes left disembodied rememory there
for each suffering other.
How else could we win/win support
this glad local/global health network
of being/becoming inter-relationships?
Strange species that I met
there was one I saw in forest house
Double-edged spear in the chest
yet what I saw were not spears
Strange species that I met
there was another I saw in a beach
a fat beast smooth and shining
yet what I saw was Trojan Horse
Strange species that I met
one was a shy rolling porcupine
Another, a Sub-Saharan chameleon
I live in world of strange experiences
This world we happen to live in
no one can figure out to the brim
the closest, the most beloved can be
a double-edged sword or Trojan Horse
Like actors in Greek mythologies
best friend can be bent -back enemy
worst enemy can be erect- back lover
strange species, special experiences
We are falling into profound isolation and loneliness
We are trapped in a continuous one way force
Bragging about our discoveries of the universe's secrets
Although our actual achievement was but to name a few stars
So called solutions come from an intellectual darkness
The imaginings of wise men wearing purple garments
They are diligent men at spreading their mythologies
Causing endless struggles that result in disappointments
Asking, searching and eventually blaming their gods
Falling faster and deeper into isolation and loneliness
The tiny hole in my sweater
that is what I have become,
The empty space there where I am lost to you and you search and beseech me with queries
Unanswerable even to infinite space
I am the emptiness there as your tongue searches for the pain of a lost tooth, probing and delighted to find a tinge of pain each tuck
And akin to cohesion tension theory I glide up to you against the forces of nature, paradoxically the same nature that mesmerizes and energy flows between us like a mesmeric magnetized chain,
As we courageously compared mythologies, struggling against terrific tides of dissonance and discord
between language and origins of myth we wriggled like bugs on pins,
Here at this juncture in this time and place on this planet in this space I have seen his face
The hero with a thousand faces.
Like a rose, you filled space in the parlor,
The candles on tables made pale,
Queen of all you surveyed, unaware of my day dreams,
You rose, the first star over dale!
Gourmet sights burst on every channel,
Our smell and our taste waiting hit,
But the crown of your aura showed Firefly intent,
The world didn’t matter a bit!
There are strangers we see that we warm to
Great lovers perhaps from past life?
Though mythologies fade in an instant's repose, still
Their comfort can cut like a knife!
I thought, briefly, I'm missing another,
Then caught myself, she will be fine!
For real love is not lost that remains in its package
God's heart savors each Valentine!
So I let myself love from a distance,
Ditched self-serving sorrows and pains,
Did not rise as her party stood up and was leaving,
For "Rain in Spain stays on the plains!"
Brian Johnston
Feb 11, 2017
Shrieking and squawking,
following prophets through uncharted waters,
wailing in sustained arpeggios.
He mimics constellations, blazing stars in rich profusion,
pulling passion into focus with a dark yet supple tone.
Religions and mythologies,
screams of souls in harsh enslavement,
sources for his stark doxologies.
Charting new boundaries of rhythm and rhyme,
a new definition his legacy, growing with time.
Shrieking and squawking,
following prophets through uncharted waters,
wailing in sustained arpeggios.
He mimics constellations, blazing stars in rich profusion,
pulling passion into focus with a dark yet supple tone.
Religions and mythologies,
screams of souls in harsh enslavement,
sources for his stark doxologies.
Charting new boundaries of rhythm and rhyme,
a new definition his legacy, growing with time.
DISCARDING SAFETY
Is it safe to be naked when thought turns to deed?
Is it safe to be honest when a lie is what you need?
Is it safe to be a butterfly when linear thinkers abound?
Is it safe to be child-like when immaturity is frowned upon?
When times are chaotic is it safe to be order?
When lines are drawn then crossed is there safety in borders?
When space is such a commodity is it safe to embrace?
When anger and hate are brewing is it safe to be face-to-face?
Is it safe to be paper when muses escape mythologies?
Is it safe to be democracy with clashing ideologies?
Is it safe to be a dreamer even when the dream is unreachable?
Is it safe to be in love with someone so untouchable?
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