IDEAL HARMONY
allusive
signs
manifest
exhort
&compensate
uniting
a
synthesis
of
tangible
egalitarian
phenomena
communing
alongside
subsidiary
pursuit
in
decorative
aesthetic
spectrums
all types of titles spell
some 'tightened meaning'
with respect poem words
and 'thought concepts'
of some overall ideas that
do 'reflect spectrums'
within the writer and
the 'poem reader'
len
owing to the ego stalking
aspects of Self sleep walking
viewed by Self with compassion
infuses love for traction
all spectrums of the rainbow
are in their own right aglow
radiating divine light
dancing with unbound delight
in the void of cessation
within our heart’s play station
we dissolve, then crystallise
and this way God realise
Jack 162 10 Apr 2025
Ask me what I see
And my reply might be negative
I don’t see in colour, be it hair, eyes or skin
I don’t see any superiority, in any given religion
when they all give faith and strength to those that believe
I don’t see identity as an issue, it’s a personal matter of choice
I don’t see ability or disability, just capability
I don’t see personal opinions as right or wrong, just different
I don’t see big or small, fat or thin, just individuals
I don’t see old or young, experience or inexperience
Just stages of life’s journey
Ask me what I see
I see a world full of continuums and spectrums
And all of us are on, each and every one of them, somewhere or other along the line
I see individuals not labels
I see uniqueness
Why do many dreamers owe large debts
grasping the dreams with such grip
more education, new debt slip
still dreaming; debt still not paid yet
ideas flow for promising projects
learning systems are no real help
rigged; leaving parents to yelp
no longer dreaming like prospects..
Why do wanderers end up homeless
knowing everything not as seem
truth we all living in a dream
without materials, most feel hopeless
status and labels is such a circus
wandering looking for life
questioning spectrums of strife
legacy, destiny, or purpose..
Being chained to flesh is ok.
I enjoy the physical sensations of this world.
Although when evil hisses and persists,
I wish to pack a hobo bag and leave it.
When I look up at the bejeweled night sky.
I know for certain that's where I truly belong.
Unburdened by demands of the flesh and ego.
Somewhere in that great expanse is my home-my nest.
The cosmic being of everything, patiently waiting there.
Where truths are revealed in all their wonderful spectrums.
The half-destiny of the universe is to expand.
This soul belongs at the edge of the expansion.
I won't feel anxious or claustrophobic anymore.
I'll be heading home to taste the light of freedom.
After the expansion, there will be a great contraction.
Then we all will be truly home.
nuance and spectrums
more than what an eye can see~
grey matter rainbows
***
Somewhere over the azure moon,
The stars are playing angelic tunes,
The comets glide across the cosmic floor,
Galaxies plume with colors galore.
Nebulae radiate their full color spectrums,
Meteors, planets, and moons collide like bass drums.
Black holes and solar winds play their mighty trumpets,
Aurora borealis shreds the lightways with its acoustics.
The universe is a symphony of color and sound,
Billions of eyes have gazed up, though answers none have found,
A beautiful sight to behold,
The wondrous creation of God, our lord.
The looked to inspire
that it's duration would
be eternal.
the catalyst of creation
was a need to exist
the minds of artist, creators
and impressionist
seeking to put the minds of many people
together to create and construct.
what they collaborated on was to be marveled
for ages.
They wanted people in the future to envy
the past might they wish to do so
looking toward there future.
The perception to create
gives voice to the needs of
many people.
It gives cause to existence.
Acquiring influential and non
prominent members across the
all spectrums of society.
Prophetic Dreams
David J Walker
I won’t be back
But I‘ll never leave
Leaving means 9
Different things
3 are true
And 2 are too
And 4 are more
Than it seems
I won’t be back
In visible form
In the spectrums
Sensual streams
The waters are clear
And the end is near
And the rest is measured
In reams
I won’t be back
Though you may perceive
That leaving is beyond
My means
Tethered in time
To each line that is mine
Anchored in
Prophetic dreams
Non-reflective and absorbing all light,
black is not a color: it is a shade.
And it is perceived by our sense of sight,
as grey gradients of varying grade.
White's all the visible spectrum combined,
and thus, the absence of pigments in paint.
You can't describe color to one born blind,
to those without sight; that notion seems quaint.
It's true; color doesn't include black or white:
mixed wavelengths causing visual mayhem.
Black and white are scrambled spectrums of light:
At least, that is how physics describes them.
Though both black and white are tethered to light:
They're as different as day is to night.
DIVISIONITA degas signac
superimposed
shimmering
scumbles
of tone
shades
juxtaposed
pastel optics
in
parallel pigments
intermingled
closely
aligned
blended
spectrums
of
elaborated
illusions
foreshortened
As I lie neath an early summertide planets-aligning
eve of a celebration,
silver shooting star's sparkle above the endless
bridge of the cosmos-
a bridge where those who have passed from
earth before us stride.
Some of them children who run and shout in
astral play,
young and older couples with snowy crowns,
people of all races, all ages,
in reuniting bliss with loved ones.
Friends from their past,
and pets with eyes of welcome.
Thousands of angels as bright as many
Milky Ways on gold-gleamed chariots aflame
with newly parted souls,
escorting them to the entrance of the
starry-blessed bridge to begin their heavenly
journey walks.
I dreamt in God's colors in rainbows arcing
in glorious spectrums,
synchronizing with music of hereafter
coursing in my elder veins,
delighting my psyche.
And I recall in deepest sleep,
memories of the goodness of many
strangers,
so pure and unbenighted. ~
a garden guard down
a rabbit hole be...
a muse-hick of
a music that be...
not just notes
knotted on a page...
they be half mirrored so
they sew music spectrums...
in echoes reflecting every other
instrument being that 'all is' alice dream
stan sand
"The Keys to the Kingdom"
The keys to my kingdom
daughter.
The past blends through
labyrinths of now
into futures’ otherworldly
spectrums
to all shades of Violet
containing release
only geared for
one autopilot
LOVE.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
gvlm
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