(“Citadel of Light Merit Badge”, 2016, original pen and ink)
Battle For Your Mind
We live in a time of upheaval and change,
Challenge and war,
But the biggest battle
Is what some call “jihad”
An internal struggle of light and dark
As a soul makes their way along the path.
But along with the esoteric jihad
There is the exoteric, external struggle for your soul,
And battle for your mind,
A battle between the Death-eaters
And the Life-givers.
In this battle of temptation
Desertion is always an option,
And as many times as we may vacillate
What matters most is where we finally settle.
And in an infinite universe
On a timeline of eternity,
As Led Zeppelin said,
You can always change the road you’re on.
But once we know how it will end
Then the momentary ups and downs
Cannot confuse and distract us.
This is the Path of Seeing
The path of no return
The warrior path
In the battle for your mind.
(9/16/25)
The moon hangs heavy in the night,
a mirror to the mind’s quiet flight.
It pulls the tides of thought and fear,
revealing what we hide, yet hold dear.
Each crater, a memory etched in stone,
each shadow, a feeling we’ve never shown.
It listens to the whispers of our soul,
reminding us that being broken makes us whole.
When darkness clouds the conscious stream,
the moon reflects the dream unseen.
A silent therapist in silver light,
guiding the psyche through the night.....
The dog each morning
lies across the fresh-dug grave
be it snow or sun;
For the dog does not know death;
his master still lives within.
The soul is his home,
detachment an intruder.
He is like a street dog
who sees rainbows.
A slate reflects life;
emotion exposed by a pen.
Pain and beauty cut deep.
No bandage can heal;
only words can complete.
Poem written on 14th September, 2025 for "Variation Of Dramatic Or Light Verse" Poetry Contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A fire sparkles in your eyes,
its sparks shine on me.
Let it energize my life,
my soul needs its warmth.
Drown me in caring desire,
to crave only you.
Whatever the consequence,
trust in my credence.
Is a diary entry 'poetry' per se?
What if it touches engaging the soul
peeling back layers of raw hidden emotion?
What if it bares sharing innermost secrets ~
what if it articulates heart to heart?
Sometimes we'll just blurt out our feelings
avoiding the fancy frivolous packaging
spilling the beans it's not always pretty.
We just say it like it is
black on white unfiltered uncensored
words spewing out without grace or flair
just getting the load off our chest.
So... are diary entries 'poetry'?
Yes if you want them to be
Yes when they go beyond the mundane
Yes when they pull at your heartstrings
in any way you choose ~
Lineku: 3 stanzas of 5-7-5 lines ~ every line either 5 or 7 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Within the depths of my soul
Lies unbearable pain
The type of pain no one would want to feel
Plus this heart of mine carries a heavy load
That at times I just want to explode
What can I do?
But cry uncontrollably
Until my tears becomes a sea
There's nothing I would not do
Than to rise again
And turn back the hands of time
When I was full of life
Still I don't understand why
I'm not the same person I used to be
Back in the days when I was firm and strong
And completely stress free
How I remember those times
Walking with my head held high
Now, in this day and age
All I do is keep my head down
Drown in self pity and give in to sadness
It seems like an never ending cycle
But despite the suffering I faces on a daily basis
I will fight until I conquer and rise again.
It was written on your body
written in your soul
to keep them all laughing
keep their small minds whole
you painted over it
you take it as it is
living off a captured kiss
to keep the neat bow tied
inside on a friday evening
what is it achieving
I know you want the relief
I tell you the secret
so don't forget
the night’s not over yet
As i listen to the thoughts, I see that they're not my own; They're not my kind of company, the lowest type of tone. I'd rather not speak back to them, or follow where they roam; I'll watch them from a'far instead; Behind the safety zone.
Turn down your violent rhetoric, America, you’re losing your soul.
Wish I could, but the First Amendment has no volume control.
And what if the violent rhetoric gets dangerously loud?
That’s what the Second Amendment is all about.
So you can offer no hope, no guiding instruction?
Just what Mark Twain saw a long time ago:
Every civilization carries the seeds of its own destruction.
If you need sweeting up
I have been dipped in honey
will give you every drop of it
in my sweet songs
Will you sing along?
come along and have fun with me
on this flat land we run free
no hill will stand in your way
And i’m rolling in this - space of time
thinking your son is - way to kind
to be a son of - any kind
In awe of you and all you are within
I had no peace from the beginning
so, nor i care to end without
stories taste better over time
especially with a silver soul like mine
I miss the way we shared
wish I had better prepared
for the parting of our ways
I miss your face
You asked for my permission
don't think there is a further vision from greed - than you
I agree with you
Chari’s wisps of blonde hair are blown around in the wind
her sky blue eyes have an intelligence that speaks to the watcher
though young in this life time she is an old soul, wise, kind, and empathetic
she misses nothing, but keeps people’s confidences, without instruction
Lavish yourself with inspiring surroundings
sit by the sea chat with friends
~ come walk in the woods
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The duties are paid, yet restless remain these eyes,
Without my beloved’s sight, in vain remain these eyes.
His radiance softened my roughness away,
Helpless in their watchful pain remain these eyes.
Truth is no healer holds a cure to impart,
Afflicted with the illness of heart remain these eyes.
I cannot accept that another may see,
Slayers of grief and disgrace remain these eyes.
“Bhav” still stands humbled in the endless queue,
Whether love’s confession or death remain these eyes.
I sat apart from life, too weary to live,
Even the breath I owed, I refused to give.
The curse of the world is rightful on me,
I thinned the trees, not the flowers to be.
In the end, the mind grows tired of love’s flame,
I made a firefly my partner in name.
Whatever the cause, it stands as a crime,
I drowned the swimmer in ocean’s prime.
You bartered away the hope of peace true,
And left the heart idle, absorbed in love’s hue.
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