The moon, a silent, watchful sphere,
Observes a world that's fast asleep.
And in this quiet, lonely fear,
My restless thoughts begin to creep.
The popcorned ceiling, a vast, pale sea,
A bumpy map of what I'm not.
I long for what the world can be,
A place where consciousness is shot.
I close my eyes, and try to find,
A path to where the dreaming lies.
But pictures flood my weary mind,
The waking world behind my eyes.
The window shows the silent street,
Each house a box of hidden dreams.
I want to join that slow retreat,
And drift away on silent streams.
My body pleads, my spirit sighs,
For peace to wash this anxious dread.
To shut the world out from my eyes,
And find the comfort of my bed.
The final prize, the sweet release,
The quiet rest I cannot keep.
To find a moment of true peace,
To finally fall into a deep... sleep.
Did I exist before I came—
To Time’s reluctant Door—
Or was I but a voiceless Name—
In Silence—evermore?
The cradle of a Nothing vast—
Where neither Breath nor Form—
No Heart to quicken—nor to fast—
No Memory—to warm.
Yet here—I stand—amid the Grass—
The Moon—observes my stay—
She lifts her Lantern as I pass—
And will—when I—decay.
If Death returns me to that Place—
That hollow, unbegun—
I must bestow—while in the Race—
Some kindness—til it’s done.
Compassion—like a secret Fire—
Illumes the darkened air—
Empathy—becomes the Choir—
Where none—may yet Despair.
The Sky receives my trembling Word—
It vanishes—like Rain—
But Love once uttered—will be heard—
Beyond the mortal Plain.
So let me weigh my brief Estate—
As Stars record my Breath—
And make my Living adequate—
To justify my Death.
Fascinated, Gainfully Harnessed, Impishly Joyful
Again, a contest I can't deny.
There's someone though, who makes me grateful
While I sit and ponder, knowing my.
Kind, Loyal, Muse, Nicely Observes
My constant request for her inspiration.
By finding words this poem deserves
Through her obliging communication.
Perusing Quests Requires Studious Time
To edit, correct, some lines rearrange.
Ensuring then my end words all rhyme
Therefore, deliberate lines to exchange.
Unquestioned Victory, With Xenial Yes!
Together my muse and I agree.
These words are ours, but now confess
My secret muse is really like me!
Self observes waking, dreaming and deep sleep ~
In stillness taking a consciousness leap
Readings on the rise i beleive..In twentytwenty
Five.' More demand for books; reads well to
Me.' May it auger well for society.' I guess Richatd Vobes, will be heartened by this vibe
Long may, all collateral fallout, continue to
Thrive..Let Bibles be bought, to be studied at
Length, that Nations be enriched by their
Diverse appeal to each humans sense.' May
Each message be taken deep.' May they light
Every day.' And refresh each students sleep.'
May admonishnent and encouragement build
A new body of Christ.' Where Gods spell and
His promises, triumph over vice.' Let minds
And bodys live in His One True Love.' As we
Await each challenge.' He observes from near
And above.' Now is the moment.!!! There are
Many to save.' Those who have been brought
To your shores.' Who for the Truth also crave
I see it not as an invasion, yet a harvest to
Reap..May the Word go out to them.' May they
Take it in deep.' They have been brought from
The four corners of the globe.' Be awake and
See.. Now go forth.' And be busy.' God will bring Victory.!!!
" As I inhale the air with the gentle pressure my lungs could create
When the path to my inner self it trace
When I stay still, standing
Staring at the leaves clapping themselves to the wind
Mesmerizing me,
Rustling it's way towards me, setting me ready for a emotional voyage
Halting its feet, With amazement this ticking crocodile observes me
With it's feet as still as I stand,
A pressure I feel on my fur
Which causes me to diminish into ashes
I prefer to be freezed,
Freeze for eternity.
By this mere encounter my essence appears to be seized,
I feel every bit of me, wanting to tear each bit of this host
To my surprise, this ticking crocodile still observing me by the eyes I can't find
Not getting bothered, I try to fly
Perhaps on sentiments I am high.
As it came, the eternal peace vanishes
Here, I stand wondering about the significance of this encounter I had.
Ironically, it is quite insignificant.
Waking me up,
Then again struggling to go along or
Perhaps fleeing from the grasp of this ticking monster."
At Lough Allua, along the waterfront
One observes a turning of the tide
From river stones, which stay blunt
Are nature’s creatures, who needn’t hide
A little toad searches for anew
Commencing a journey made by few
Its passage, grows so weary
Following the gravel track
On its way to Ballingeary
High ditches cloak edges of the roads
Serving to both sides, a useful shield
Tender branches break against the cars
And one peers through leaves, into a field
To spot vibrant hydrangeas, unconcealed
Yet across the rugged boundary
One can hear the mud clumps crack
With a sand-tinted Hereford bull
Rolling around on his back
Retiring into a pond
Atop the Shehy Mountains
The land in Spring, it is so fond
When in the creases of these hills
The emerging sun shines through the petals
Of those lovely daffodils
“Self observes waking, dreaming and deep sleep ~
In stillness taking a consciousness leap”
~ quote by poet
Relying on instincts in the dream state,
there remains neither logic nor free will,
as we accept therein, our ordained fate,
with no knowledge of our inherent skill.
Perhaps the waking state too is a dream,
conjured by an unknown force in control,
cajoling us to dance on fate’s moon beam,
which we accept as our destined life role.
Waking or dreaming, for soul is the same,
if detached consciousness be self-aware,
with neither fears nor desires left to tame,
having no needs, save a breath of fresh air.
Detached and nonchalant to what appears,
divine dweller of our heart, life course steers.
She doesn't speak, she just observes
feeling all the hidden curves
every laugh and every tear
holding close what's far and near
in the noise, she's calm and still
quiet heart, but strong will
things that burn inside her chest
never spoken, never stressed
she's the calm beneath the storm
different, soft, a secret form
the loudest voice you'll never see
the quiet one, who feels deeply
The irony of men’s life journey.
Man sees first light through the gap between his mother’s legs.
He spend most of his life trying to slip back into a gap.
The baby comes into this world wearing a hoody.
A doctor decides that the hoody must go, snip, snip.
The baby, the boy, the man, the old man’s head exposed
to the elements, except when entering the holy of holy’s.
Over eighty years have passed, time and fate has altered.
Gravity and age has shortened the height of ones stature
and added inches, feet and pounds to man’s girth.
Old age, has shrunk the length of the head of the family.
Old age, and all that that implies, leaves a negative impact.
As man looks down at the head of the family, the family jewels.
All he observes is sagging sacks and the hoody he lost as a baby.
B. J. “A” 2
June 3rd, 2025
magnetised palms and tingling feet
collaborate with our third eye
moon and the sun bring forth cool heat
toroidal heart lets out a sigh
our breath outpost, tip of the nose
signals readiness for action
although we remain in repose
all nodes within form gain traction
present in the eternal now
the vast ocean observes the waves
each God-spark smiles and takes a bow
loving intent on heart engraves
I know there's something going on, no doubt
I'm wise enough to know what you're about
It's not pleasant dear, you must live with fear
That's sure to ruin time left on earth here.
I will keep my findings all to myself
You be the judge and jury to yourself
Maybe you have caused folk despair always
I don't know how you find peace in your days.
The day is coming that will seek you out
It’s something that you have to think about
We all arrive at the heavenly gate
Think about that before it gets too late.
Worst of all, is getting away with it
How do you sleep when stars and moon are lit
The man in the moon, angels in the sky
Must sadly shed tears of sorrow from high.
Heres looking right through to your heart
You who thinks yourself to be very smart
I won't name and shame, much as I'd like too
Know that someone's got the measure of you.
“Some folk may deceive folk upon Earth, but never God, He observes.”
There is a game we all must play
Without the slightest hope of winning.
It doesn't cease at end of day,
From start to end, it's one long inning.
The game observes no rules, no guidelines,
Though there well may be a master plan,
Much like a game of "Cat and Mouse",
Or "Tag", or maybe "Catch Me If You Can".
No one gets benched or sits on sidelines,
Though only two at once can play.
One side's the cat and one the mouse;
Death is the hunter, we the prey.
The odds are badly stacked against us,
And there's no way to hedge the bet,
But we play with firm determination,
One shot at life is all we get.
There is no coach, there is no scoreboard,
No victory party to attend.
No one can tell the game's duration,
But all too well how it will end.
The things I observes,
Become the observer and the observed
They become part of my personality
To the eyes of others,
I become the subject and the object
To them comes the subjective or the objective view
And as I see them too,
Any judgement comes from me I demote or promote.
Phases of Moon on inscription
round the Earth on revolution
will be marvelous memento .
Just a simple manifesto.
Moon is our nearest neighbour.
Closest companion of ours.
It awakes inquisitiveness
about Universal vastness.
extending curiosity
to seek human identity .
Search for Cosmic explantion
since start of civilization.
Attraction of Moon from the Earth
continues from humans' birth.
Event of human Moon landing !
The Great Grand Success : Outstanding.
Memento to leave, we deserve -
' Phases of Moon' - as Earth observes.
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