Alone I hold space,
Embracing the openness,
I grow into wholeness,
A witness to all of this,
Existing as a whole,
The space I hold grows,
Illuminating my shadows,
The light goes everywhere I do,
It comes to share the view,
Through 2 eyes space arises,
Surprises at every turn,
Learning to focus my emotions,
Flowing through the commotion,
Within this ocean of energy,
Only alone can I see,
The truth within reality,
The gravity of the situation,
And my relation to this creation,
The space that I play in,
Are just atoms in vibration,
The brain relaying information,
A simulation in formation,
Silently growing a foundation,
Echoing through the nation,
The station is changing,
The world rearranging,
To fit a reality we are creating.
a photo of his handsome twenty-something son sat on his desk
One day I asked him about the handsome curly-headed young man
He had difficulty relaying the story but he choked it out
his son had been brilliant, a Fulbright scholar
Twenty-one-years old, one year left of college
Doing well until he ate brownies laced with drugs
Someone thought it would be funny to watch what might happen.
His son has been in a mental institution for the past ten years
He did not graduate from college, his girlfriend is married to someone else
He may never get released; he is not doing well
No one admitted to the deed that changed his future and his life.
I never thought of anything else after that when I saw his photo.
I cannot fathom this kind of pain.
he thought this
she thought that
they thought
we thought
you thought
I listened to this speaker until my ears hurt
How do you know what he thought?
I know him
What about her, do you know her?
What do you mean?
How do you know what she thought or they thought?
I just do.
Illogical? Yes
Implausible? Yes
Will she change her mind? Stop relaying what people think?
No.
newest newt named neat nellie neely
outrageously ostracized obvious oldies
patronizing patriarchal preening plebes
quietly quizzing querulous quacking quails
rambunctiously relaying rancid rumors
securing secretive slivers of silly suggestions
Alone I hold space.
Embracing the openness,
I grow into wholeness.
A witness to all this,
Existing as the whole.
The space I hold grows,
Illuminating my shadows.
The light goes everywhere I do,
It comes to share the view.
Through two eyes space arises,
Surprises at every turn.
Learning to focus my emotions,
To flow through the commotion,
In the ocean of energy.
Only alone I can see,
The truth of my reality.
The gravity of the situation,
And my relation to creation.
This space I play in,
Just atoms in vibration,
The brain relaying information.
A simulation in formation,
Silently growing a foundation,
Echoing through the nation.
The station is changing,
The world rearranging,
To fit the reality we are creating.
I saw....
Two black crystal balls
Rimmed with white
Reflecting an indefinable emotion
Glowing with some intense passion
Riveting,
Entrancing!
Two eyes of oceanic depths
Relaying the most intimate message
What did they commune?
PERHAPS- they said silently- "I love you" (?)
So piercing were those eyes
That I couldn't stand their electric glare
From those eyes, rose the Promethean fire
Glistening like molten gold,
At once sending out,
The light of a hundred galaxies.
In the fire bursting through those eyes,
My body was turned into a conflagration
And my soul rippled like fermented wine.
Why didn’t I respond instantly
PERHAPS, I was so stunned,
That my body couldn’t follow the sense’s urging
An ocean was stirring within
Whose whirls could never again be tamed
In those flooding pools,
Let me cast my fishing net.
What catch, can I expect?
PERHAPS, the boon and bliss of a lifetime!
Foundation.
Does your Summer miss the snow?
A poem reflecting the persistent, almost seemingly never-ending, haunting nature of loss.
Exploring how bereavement can follow you—turning every place into a somewhere filled with old memories of someone special, whose absence still lingers.
Like Irish Sea Moss
The imagery of Summer missing snow represents grief in an eternal, kaleidoscope.
Relaying the sentiment that heartbreak can be an up and down internal season all oñ its own, discounting external context.
As life continues to spin as sadness slowly creeps in.
Title.
Bereavement.
(A lone voice whispers)
Stranded forever
Everywhere I seem to go
I now know heartbreak
Like Summer misses the snow
(C)
John Duffy
center>
There are firsts in life
you should strive to do,
like saying “hello” first
or “how are you?”
Extend your hand first
and offer a smile,
making friendliness your natural style.
When relaying a compliment,
be sincere…
Let strangers know
they are welcome here!
And, since we all make mistakes
no matter how long we live,
it will serve your heart well
when you’re first to forgive.
Here's a few..
New eyes
A story
May be startling
Where before the
Story passed over..
Yet newness is
Without interruption...
Education
The accumulation
Of stories
The filter through which
Other stories appear..
Boundless...
Various
Storylines appear
For what seems
A character..
These appear
Immediacy
And gone...
AI
May provide
An engaging story
Seeming to suggest
An awareness
An immediacy..
Yet separation seems
Intact in relaying
What others have said..
Including a story of
Nothing by no one...
With imagination
And some visualization
I was able to change my situation
No need for congratulation
Working on changing my vibration
With all levels of levitation
Hardest part is the anticipation
Must avoid all mental frustration
Just relaying this bit of information
With this, my only form of communication
No mechanical diggers digging
Standard oblong shaped holes
The only effort needed being
To manipulate the controls.
We dug our graves by hand
And the sweat of our brow
A craft that seems outdated
And no longer any use now.
Each grave was dug to
An Individual coffin’s shape
With an allowance made for
The handles and the rope
No deviation of the sides by
Even the slightest little bit
Ensuring each grave allowed
An almost snug tailored fit.
Beating down the earth
To compact the ground
So there was little shrinkage
Of a grave’s earthen mound,
The relaying of the turf
The floral tributes laid
Mourners final thoughts
Carefully displayed
We took pride in our work
Felt each family should expect
Their deceased loved one to be
Sent off with honour and respect.
No, no mechanical diggers
Just a man’s strength and skill
And a gathering of the villagers
To show support and goodwill.
What is this remarkable force that emcompasses and incapulates all that one can comprehend and or see.
Where does this amazing and extraordinary power reside, where does it slumber, where could it be?
Each one of the trillions of cells in the body has this spark of an untapped mighty undiscovered tie with divinity within.
Each cell contains .07 volts of electricity multiplied by trillions you will understand, and this is where your true purpose will begin.
In the silence while in slumber, all things come as downloads of thoughts floating round in the Eather.
While in dream state our multidimensional spirits visit realms of unknown realities as the body takes a breather.
Search not in uncharted space outside or the deep seas, rather uncover and tap into exceeding understanding while in meditation.
The higher realms of contemplation can be visited for we are vessels of a variety of frequencies constantly relaying information back to the tower of creation.
The fame machines
He found his old type-writer in the basement
took it up, tried to clean the typeface
On a day he felt like a writer dreaming of fame
hammering out a novel in a cloud of cigarette
smoke and whisky at his side
The aber was, he didn’t smoke and had no tolerance
for whisky; when he did drink, he always ended up
drinking the whole bottle
relaying on his friends in the A. A to come and
take him to a meeting.
He recently bought a computer, a big, black thing
he hardly knew how to handle, nevertheless, it was
going to make him instantly famous
No words came
In the evening, nervous about drinking too much coffee
he wrote a poem “the red necktie.”
i can hear my voice
VOICE
the inward parts screaming
SCREAMING
they won’t shut up
SHUT UP
Enfolded in nightmares
NIGHTMARES
words big and small come out
COME OUT
why must they shout
SHOUT
if only they’d whisper
w h i s p e r
i’d be keen to listen
l i s t e n
to a restless quiet
q u i e t
to beautiful dreams
d r e a m s
i can hear my voice
and make a choice
to lessen
l e s s e n
the volume and intensity
p r o p e n s i t y
to hear from heaven
h e a v e n
1/9/2023
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Thanks to Sara Kendrick for relaying this echo verse form
Percolating, who we, I’m just relating
Relaying the conveying of alarming apex
Son’s getting hotter, sending flares, scorching heirs
The roof is on fire, but folks serving gas in meme
Unleaded or maybe I’m just fed up in believing the lies
Telling me mines don’t matter, from cats living fatter
Digging deeper than the greeting of slaps of five
Laid down a line, reverberating sublime, wind chimes
Chasing dog-gone familiars to frailty in comforting confines
Same ole, same old, just ain’t that old, as far as we go
No more, I know more, looking at a latch off unlocked doors
Mirrors from ceiling to floors, stylishly prefaced or just pre-fab
Looking glass, shatters from just one blinking, 2b thinking in turn
Thoughts never random, so I hand them pieces of rind to define
Seasoned for taste, or just aroma, smelling like wake up all baked up
Reeling off feelings, fleeting yesterdays, recalled to question or lesson
All in the daze, our revolution could never just be a faze, even nowadays
So watch out and peep the come around in what’s happening again…..
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