I Think That I
Too Often See...
A Pile As Sad
As A Blown-Away:
Tree.
-Gray Squirrel
09-03-2025
Our name is spoken carefully
Like it can break in someone's mouth
No one forgets it
No one says it without meaning
This name was not given
It was carried
Through storms
Inside the pockets of the frightened and the brave
It doesn't matter if it was mispronounced
Until the syllables bled
It doesn't matter if it feels heavier
Than the shoulders meant to bear it
This name is key
This name is a mirror
This name is a debt no one can repay
And when we sign it
Or whisper it
Or echo it from someone who knew us
The air shifts
Something remembers
If Vulcan Wakes (c) 2025 by The Entangled Pair
If Vulcan fully wakes again and shakes his fiery dreads
unleashing hell in all it's fury on our fearful heads
I tell you once again my friends in words of common rhyme
we perish not in watery graves but in the fires this time
can't see the forest for the trees
can't see the flame for all the fires
can't see the streamlets for the flood
can't see the needs behind desires
if I'm the fire love, you're the spark
that sets my very soul aflame
and when I dance, I dance for you
the one who knows my sacred name
as I dance naked for you now
I feel no fear, no hint of shame
just the love and joy and rapture
that my heart cannot restrain
and so I dance for you my lover
comfortably in pain
now let us burn again my love, not in fear but passion,
let the fires now forge us stronger in their molten fashion.
if this world must end in ash, in cinders or in glowing coals
then let us kiss at end of time while wading through the shoals
and as we kiss our eyes must close as we are inward gazing
because if we must fall my love, we fall together, blazing
Let the night enfold our sacred bond
where shadows softly play for us,
suspending time in moments
of our blissful wishes
and the midnight dreams~
why must daylight
then arrive
and love
end?
Once I learned I’d have to pay for my sins
Today I see there’s not a sin that’s not ‘in’
Once I was told to respect every teacher
Today a teacher’s the lowest of creatures
Once the US flag was a source of pride
Today it only serves to divide
Once girls admired a ‘man in uniform’
Today they seek out ‘singular unicorns’
Once teens practiced ‘making conversation’
Today they can’t talk, they’re texting sensations...
Did everything die; is nothing sacred anymore
Well, kids still ask parents for money
~ only today a whole lot more
let's meet tonight in cemetery
to perform our sacred ritual where
i hold you close and we dance in the dark
there is a sword in my back
and a glass of wine in your hand
to fill it with my blood
let's meet tonight in cemetery
to perform our sacred ritual where
you betray me for one last time
as you're kissing me and pushing the knife
deeper and deeper into my heart
and sky echoes with my cries
Lilies Haiku 39
white lilies in bloom
cotton petals unfurl~
nature`s sacred world.
i e s
l ~ ~
i ~ ~ i
l ~ ~ n
e ~ b
t l
i o
h o
w m
t ~ a - f -u
e~ ~ l -n -r
c–o-t-t-o-n p ~ ~ ~ s _u -l~
o r
n ~a ~t ~u ~r ~e`s s-a-c-re-d w l
d.
Music first played
on the heartstrings
of God
Whose chorus
of Angels
carries beyond
A melody sacred
each note
comes from He
Whose flute calls
us closer
Whose harp
— sets us free
(1st Book Of Prayers: July, 2025)
Within the circle’s quiet pulse lies a deeper truth:
when we shape our ways by kindness, trust takes root.
The classroom holds a sacred space,
where hearts find hope, and fears erase.
Not just a room with desk and board,
But a haven where the soul is restored.
A whisper heard, a glance that sees—
Each moment sown like sacred seeds.
Mistakes aren’t marks of shame or loss,
But stepping stones we gently cross.
With open hearts, we build, we mend,
And learn that truth is not the end.
In laughter shared, in silence deep,
We hold the dreams they dare to keep.
And every child, in their own way,
Is seen, is loved, is free to stay.
So may we teach not just with mind,
but with the grace that seeks to find
the spark in each unsure reply—
and raise it gently to the sky.
This is the place where peace is grown:
where every voice is heard and known.
No harsh words echo through these walls—
only gentle care as each one calls.
The teacher’s role is more than guide,
but keeper of peace and light inside.
A sanctuary, day by day—
where hearts are shaped in quiet ways.
We are natural bodies outside
engaging spiritual souls inside
So also,
and with more significant integrity
in this domesticated
desecrating
lack of thriving home
We are timeless souls
with spacious bodies
Sexual souls
with sacred bodies
Sensational sages called
to musing ordinations,
sensexual singing souls
communing sacred dancing bodies
Inside pleasure history's
reweaving healthy rites
outside passion mystery's
re-ligioning wild wealth sights
Of natural wilderness bodies
restoring spiritual sanctuary souls.
Mystic dancer in the firelight,
spinning, swirling as her soul takes flight,
chasing spirits on an astral plane
and catching them to call by name.
Perspiration beads on her skin,
arms spread like wings of her peregrine,
bracelets jingle and scatter light
and she dances late into the night.
Drummers beat out a strong tattoo,
her tempo quickens, her heartbeat too,
as visions spiral around her head
conjuring spirits of dancing dead.
She slips the veil without a glance,
and shadow-selves begin their dance.
Her falcons carve the moonlit air—
and now she's flying, wild and bare.
The fire sends embers up like stars,
she soars past Mercury and Mars,
hearing old songs in tongues once known,
and bringing back silence, but not alone.
She settles to Earth in the deepening night
as the fire burns low, no longer bright.
A blink, a smile, and her trance subsides
as prophecies in her eyes abide.
The sodium street lights
Your few striped freckles
The makeshift tattoo on my palm
A couple? Never. It's always been a triple or even a single at best,
A circle of medics healing medics.
This distortion is fine
It's a revolution of entrancing revolts.
Relics ignite for every star in the ground,
Scattered upon my brain.
To my pressed, dear, deadest flowers...
You keep leaving me out!
Crystalise for me, so I can die again for you.
My precious opalite,
Your purity is a miracle.
My beloved flaked obsidian,
Your impurity is a fiasco.
Both are much to be worshipped.
But now what am I to you>
The myriad, or the clone?
You keep me enshrined.
You rekindle yourself.
You say the circle is perfect, but it ends 4 corners behind.
I guess I'm only history.
Set me alight
If you dare.
Need some inspiration?
Title.
The Sacred Hollow.
(A lone voice whispers)
Have you been subtly conditioned to overlook your true potential?
Does a voice sometimes whisper?
Whether in sleep or in daylight?
Open your tired eyes wide and reach for the stars.
See how far you can go.
Cast off the chains of conditioning
That appeared as you grew older.
Be courageous and break free from what you’ve been told.
Mould a new mindset before you become set in your ways or too old
Setting an example for future generations to follow,
Before your spirit returns to The Sacred Hollow.
(C) Copyright John Duffy
G-ood
I-deas
N-ever
A-dvance
V-icious
I-nsights,
L-etting
L-awful
A-ims
F-ly
U-nder
E-thical
R-ealm's
T-ruthful
E-mblem
©bfa051025
Monocrostic (Birthday of Gina Villafuerte)
Within a book of sacred dreams
she found a knight's true heart.
Amidst the dark, a light that gleams;
romance his words impart.
They've led her down to an ocean beach
where somberly she'll wait,
for love which looms beyond her reach;
withdrawn by the hands of fate.
As captain of a faithful crew
he'll lead them into war
and reminisce of love he knew
when docked on homeport's shore.
A verse where passion's fire is found
and grows as time goes by,
but heaven yields no joyful sound;
instead, the angels cry.
Two kindred souls from eons past
converge in this new age.
With years of rapture's dance amassed,
they heat this poet's page.
In pretty mirrors from the heart,
perhaps she'll find her prize:
a place where love is sure to start,
entranced by fiery eyes.
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