Self Poems | Examples

The Quiet Pull

A single pill rests on the counter--
quiet, small, almost polite.
I told myself it would stay that way.

But days grew thinner,
hours frayed at the edges
and the quiet promise began to hiss.

Friends laughed. I nodded.
My reflection wavered in the glass,
someone familiar yet gone.

The pull was slow - like water eroding stone,
soft at first, then urgent, unstoppable.

I chased the calm it offered,
unmindful of the shadows it left behind,
the nights pulsing with my heartbeat,
the mornings hollowed and quiet.

One day, I reached for air instead...
for the sharp taste of morning,
for voices that held me without judgment,
for a hand that said;
“You are not this. You are still you.”

Healing does not arrive in a flare.
It creeps softly, day by day
teaching the heart to see once more,
to taste the colors that were dimmed,
to carry the weight of the world
without letting it break the soul.

Absolute Self

resting in subjective awareness pure
one without a second, we alone are
living light eternal and heart demure
all worlds are within, not somewhere afar

we dwell in space-time as also beyond
our pristine essence is subtler than space
we are the gong Om to which we respond 
we’re both giver and receiver of grace

we are the darkness, we are the sunrise
untouched by contrasts, we alone exist
we conceal then reveal to feel surprise
all hearts pulsate in us as a bliss mist 

not this or that, we’re consciousness itself
both the stillness and movement kinetic
we’re the undivided non dual Self
we are love and light, our heart magnetic

know as false, all worlds that are manifest
the pulse dual is but an illusion
thought forms swirl around but we are at rest
as luminescence free from delusion

Thought of the day

one candle can light another
without diminishing itself
the light of God thus lights all lights
including the light of our Self

Masochist

The thundering pain
The fills my bones 
Skin stretched right
A razor blade
Drags out 
Never digs in
Can never quite reach
The itch within

Introspection

A bit of introspection can 
do wonders for a troubled heart. 
When nothing else can help a man, 
a bit of introspection can. 

To ask for light is better than 
denying truth God might impart. 
A bit of introspection can 
do wonders for a troubled heart.

UNSEEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

I am not quiet,
Not easily forgotten,
Yet somehow
Still unseen.

I feel it,
In the bones of my being,
This weight of being
Unappealing.

Not the kind
You’d walk toward.
Not the kind
That draws eyes or hearts.

It’s not like me
To say, “I hate myself,”
But sometimes,
That silence speaks louder.

Strangers
Faces I’ve never met,
Mouths that never called my name,
Eyes that never really saw me
Still, they judge.

They know me better than I do,
They say.
They define my shape,
My walk,
My worth.

And so, I wear it.
Their truth becomes mine.
And you
You’re beautiful,
Unique,
Undeniable.

You can see me.
I cannot.

And though it’s not like me
To admit this ache,
This shadow inside,
It is still me.
Still here.
Still hurting.

CMM Nikon Military Kevin adding passified resolution

The oblivious of technical school in Japan exist 
In speaking California 
Somehow people live with them

I am alive again
Perhaps to award self noble ink ignorance truth awards for forgotten reason folds?

Curmudgeon dialectitions are a single limit in integral derivatives vote agreement speak of French crime fraud
Fraud constraint in physical universe CMM Kevin grabs and places on earth as variable of energy in relation to sun spectacle gotama illiterate ancient vision possum.

Variable = zero

Aggregated data illegal to allow no cleared thought

Capitalism variance pond scum scrutiny re potting nirvana chart
Not present



Conclusion and resolved as impasse in the passed tense regarding agriculture builds have centered, stilled and stalemated upon inherent independence.  When a single dejection occurs the independent publisher of our next theory which decides itself the better ended.

Backwards

The wind blasts from the sea, a paper cup falls down
I’m gazing at the sand beneath my feet
Why should I listen to these noises on the background
Is there another small cafe around to sit
Time heals but it remains unclear what 
The pain subsides, then it evolves into the new
And that new pain is just exactly like the old
Time’s not a goodwill paramedic in my view 
Self-deprecation is a healer free of charge
A tunnel vision tunes the optics of the heart 
Troubles diminish, and small pleasures look enlarged
The view clears up and there we are, never apart
Sometimes I’m able to perceive the memories
As if I’m living backwards, sit and wait 
Just yesterday, I smelled your roses in the breeze
You said you’d called me, but I called you back too late.

Zen mode

in the realm of Self there is no thought
may silence then be our default orientation 
poised in stillness as awareness self-aware
animating the vibrant void of cessation

Wayne Glew'

Had a look at Wayne Glew, having a go.' 
Has enforcement experience and some
Clues.' Seems confused about Porepunkah.' Then i am too.' A shotgun
Is not a precesision firearm.' A strange
Stew, two men down no ballistics statistics spoken..Which shoud be simply reported to my notion.? Brian Naylor a real
News anchor 'would had basic info to share with the state and Nation.' Another
Officer first reported shot in the leg.' Now
It is the shoulder..Which is closer to the head.' Now some bait is lured, 'up to a mill ?' They've said.' Sort of like having a price on his head..Meanwhile a crime wave is hitting Melbourne town, shops robbed three to four times in twelve hours.' Stressfull to the mind.' I see the strain on
My people, niw don't think on this I'm going
To be fine!!!

Zen mode

from within we touch not the walls of form
as formless presence we just rest in space 
swirling energies beg us to conform 
so our mantra is release each embrace
since egos manifest conceal God’s face
at times we too swim but do not get wet
that we’re light of Self, we do not forget

Inside the Sun

without a shadow of doubt, I Am

Light of Self

As
we drift
from focus
to the trance state,
witness consciousness 
which we may call the Self,
always poised in the vast void,
remans detached yet cognisant
of all the comings and goings here,
in but not of each thought and sensation.

No doubt the gunas three twirl us around
but by resting in time dissolved calm,
light of Self becomes manifest
through tranquil meditation 
as softened attention
erases space-time,
our eye single,
commingles
with God’s 
light.

Scent of Citrus

Water rushing, steam rising, accompanied by the scent of citrus. 
Breathing in the scent of citrus suds to ground myself. 
Trying to keep myself sane. 
Water racing down my face, washing away the stress and pain of the day. 
No longer drowning the day out with water, back to reality.

My Mind

(“I of the Beholder”, 2014, original pen and ink)

My Mind

My mind is a labyrinth
Organic with its tendrils 
Flowing like a stream
Following every which-way gravity takes
Clearly without a mind of its own!

It leads me through dark places
And into the light
Yet it never lingers
As any rise in my emotion
Just causes it drop off a cliff

And then I am soaring again
Or plunging as the case may be
It matters not if it is day or night
Above or below ground, in fact 
I’m not sure anything matters on its twisted way

But I can’t fault this fickle friend
It doesn’t really mean me harm
As it pushes my buttons and pulls my chain 
I know, like an exuberant child or pup,
It just wants to show me what it sees with love.

(9/6/25)

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