The thirst for effervescence,
A sweetness I’ve always craved,
To be a child of such incandescence,
So that no soul can claim I’ve failed.
Yearning to be witty, even reverential,
Merely to be something good,
Desperate to claw up some potential,
So that no soul can claim I am pointless.
Lusting to be known as an ingenue,
Perfection in a woman’s form,
An image id walk through flame to,
How can I be true when I am based on pure perception?
I perceive
the brilliancy of the day
here in my heart...
I do not sight,
eclipse in the night
with my soul
joyful... !
I don't sense the weight
of time with my
creative mind...
I do not discern
the evil of the world,
with my mind
positivist... !
To be "involved" can sound a little sly;
"Complicated" some one says and rolls his eye!
But I protest and politely ask
That "involved" be returned unto its proper task.
Involved is care
to be aware.
Look, listen is perceive,
receive, immerse in some one/thing
other than the self...
Not just the facts, Ma'am!
Involved is feel,
like care, only more like real;
not just wash the idea
in some other kind,
but drink! Inhale with your diaphragm!
Involved is hard.
If knife to you to me is knife,
must I also die?
Or knife and not-knife
both are true and
I be I and also you...
Involved is life!
Alone, alone is guard. Experience!
Broaden means across a space between
Two wheels in one track
is ahead/behind.
Don't sweat the clear, uncluttered
mind. It's still okay to keep
the I and You in We.
In the dawn of deception, who can perceive what is real?
Do things appear benevolent or do they come to pillage and steal?
When one gives from the heart, the receiver sometimes wants even more.
It is often wise to bolt, lock and secure your door.
Be careful of the ones who call themselves your friend.
For evil is on the prowl and lurks around every bend.
Let the heart be receptive and partner with the mind.
Always be cautious and careful but also be courageous, courteous, considerate, and kind.
own heart is sad when I perceive
The pallor of your face the dead brown leaves
Ive already walked the paths of loss
Jesus Christ we have been double crossed
I’ll look after you when you need touch.
Not of money, but in kindness rich
I will help you through that open door
I’ll hold your hand as I have done before.
I used to take you out when you were small.
I pushed your pram to
grandad’s up the hill
Going home in darkness I felt fear.
Where has Daddy gone,my mother dear?
I hate that you have got the same disease.
I hated God whom I had like to please
Sadness grips my empty heart today
Kneeling on the floor what can I say
We have a feeling
my love and I
that it's time to leave.
It is the passing
of an earlier time
for which we grieve.
Then, right was right,
hope was bright,
and civility was ever in sight.
We were free our minds to speak
no need for games of hide and seek
or to be pathetically weak.
Without a clap of thunder
that world is dead down under,
making us wonder and perceive
that it's time for us to leave.
Aspects of art
I am the real thing..
copy I am not;
I paint ..in the here and now..
what I see..unique
as it appears to me-
whatever is meant..
form is the content
impressions..from within-
so to begin..
this secret,for free..
know how to see
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2011
Besides all that you perceive
Exists all that you believe
Behind all your schemes
Exists all your dreams
Below all your responsibilities
Exists all your possibilities
Beyond all that is true
Exists all that is you
Long time ago many animated entities welcomed
Me as a victor but my freedom did not accompany me,
That day I saw many liberated leaves of a tree
With joviality glided in the wind, that day
A kite I released from my hand
Up in the sky but I knew little about its fate,
Its dance and blithe could not elate me,
Its vigor did not relax me,
At the edge of the shore that day I caught a
Glimpse of the hovering sea gulls, they snatched
The left overs, swallowed, squawked
Within the spectrum of joyfulness,
Then I realized—
My freedom was inseparable from my life,
I could consume it from many events of the planet,
From many congregations of the subjugated humankind!
Ms. Quibble was remarkably aware, although she was long blind.
Notably, she had a sharp memory and a very clear mind.
She had long been able to perceive beyond her eyes.
Many keen mechanisms she cleverly devised.
She routinely detected when someone entered a room.
Maybe she is not that blind; some would presume.
There were people she knew who wore the same cologne or perfume.
When some entered and did not yet speak, she could detect with ease,
Their identity by the clink of their walk or the chime of their keys.
When people questioned she would reply, with a wink,
"I see a lot more than most people think."
Barbara Campbell
Contest: Mixed Senses
09/14/15
Your words are like riddles
Complex to understand
but there's more behind it
that not everyone sees
It's a one-sided mirror
that shows only what you play
It it good or is it bad?
that's the quest
Our mind shall perceive in color; not words
Like the light of judgment.
Our tongue is the destiny of a generation,
ignorant of redemption
Our blindness is but one man’s minor downfall
Our chair, the chair of thousands
Our fingers touch the crevices of despair
Yet we know not what love is
And suicide still distant from our walk.
The paint on our wall has been melting for weeks now,
Our ghost holds the answers
Of dust-filled passages
Our mind shall rip threads from this burning existence
And tie them into yours
This lamp shines no light on our pillow,
If only we could get to sleep when it’s dark
Colors we see of unforeseen enemy
Haunting our dreams, transforming nightmare into reality.
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