Soft and warm is your heart, gentle orchid,
Sweet and tender are petals you bear
Bumblebees crowd your pistil. They lurk. It
Sends golden dust everywhere.
Would I knew where your tenderness comes from
Would I knew how your softness is made
Would I knew how your love makes the soul roam
To the heights and the depths, unafraid.
Would I felt your incredible beauty
On my cheeks, on my lips, in my heart,
Would I had one desire undisputed
Within my soul: to impart
Every beautiful thing that you know
To the people who need it the most,
By transmitting your tender glow
To their hearts and their minds. Though it cost
Me a lifetime, to give your true glory
To the world, to the stars, to the sky -
And though I never know your full story
I will never allow you to die -
No, I'll take you through time, you just glow,
I will take you to Venus and Mars
And when you are about to go
I'll establish you among the stars.
I don't want to be a processed human
warm thumpads on click screen
cant put my hands in my pcokets
pockets filled with sand
cup of dirt by my table
Orange fire tree, a beauty, shivers in gray
I am not aware of me
when nature bears to see its swaying leaves
there's glory in the metal squeak of a guitar string
feel dead wood, relief, plastic wrapped child roses
Smell the green on harvested before bloom
The blood crust on my ear
monstrous scratching between straw hair of a dead scalp makes me want to rip skin out
Ocean water take me there but i hear electric of cars every step
bushes square
trees baby leaves
bloomed too late to turn green
Watch a movie set in italy you feel the vibrations of the screen
make your face red; silent scream
pop ups, plastic warmth
cling to the radiator through polyester, spine compressed and half your bed taken by an amass of wires and clunk: heavy mess to project reality
My veins pump blood spray when cut
I'm a real human transmitting consciousness through things i never knew
drained my energy in this scry mirror: to be human is selfish, AI helps with all but takes root to steal yourself and sell it back to you
Nonjudgmental to souls who need healing
Who are as yet trapped in the maze
Bemused by illusions they find appealing
We know one day they will turn inward their gaze
Awakening slowly from their dream like daze
So transmitting grace that in-pours from above
We unconditionally radiate our love
transmitting back to Self, strobes of contrast
in descent and ascent through vibrations
looking neither ahead nor in the past
we embrace and release all sensations
trusting what is, with no expectations
that thus with bilocation as the key
unshackled from ego we’re always free
For the strong ones — on their stay-in-bed days.
© Gabrielle Munslow 2025. All rights reserved.
I think I’d just like to be —
No noise in my head.
The TV on standby.
Radio not transmitting.
The dog forgetting his bark.
The tears unshed.
Just leave me in bed.
My whole psyche ashes away,
aching from absorbing prophetic punches.
I changed the trajectory of my life —
now I need to be achingly numb.
No words.
No prayers.
No petty arguments or poetry.
Just me.
Hair like a banshee,
mascara matching my disillusionment.
I wear my apathy like a medal —
nauseatingly won.
Let the world knock,
let the day stretch open.
I won’t rise.
I’ve already fought
too many mornings.
But don’t mistake my silence
for defeat —
I am not broken.
I’m just choosing not to speak
while I sharpen my teeth.
As a child of God, we have His power
commingled with divine love, light and bliss
but since we know not, in fear we cower,
sinking deeper into desire’s abyss,
though our heart tells us something is amiss.
Recognising we are not body-mind,
we then play our life role as God assigned
as spirit ensouling organic form,
transmitting vibrations loving and kind,
with our eye mindful, touch tender and warm.
I’ve been transmitting
on the frequency we talked about—
the one braided with microwaves
and half-truths
about entangled minds
and sympathetic resonance.
I figured you’d catch the pulse
once the white noise parted,
once my kettle screamed
or the dog stared too long at a corner
that wasn’t empty.
My mouth even watered
with your name
on the dough's first rise—
I dallied in the kitchen
with a low-stakes ritual,
used gravity to split particles—
you still didn't answer.
Did you notice any of it?
Do earworms still play my advice
like backmasked invocations?
I wouldn't run from a little proof
of your esoterica.
Maybe you’re the kind of quark
who skips the symposiums entirely—
no RSVP, no collision data,
just a shrug in the margins.
Or maybe your reception
requires stranger offerings—
Either way, you should know:
I'm running out of ideas.
I hear the sound of clanging and banging from a distant source
Like an orchestra of metal pots that have fallen on the kitchen floor
which brings a ringing to my inner ear
then a low vibration comes as I stand still
This frequency happens frequently
transmitting a language I've yet to unveil
Creating a magnetic peace during its stay
One day I hope to understand the meaning behind it all
A tale probably woven over a thousand years
I hear the sound and listen in
The tone goes away just as mysterious as it came
toroidal heart expands
immanent and transcendent
we shine as living light
making ego decadent
as an outpost in this realm
we play our ordained role
vibrance is our nature
transmitting love is our goal
when in silence we then see
space flickers from time to time
we simply look at this phenomena
by melding with the subtle element
we simply see it as a living womb
containing all manifestations
transmitting each tremor to God
Who nourishes all life with His breath
News reports of war transmitting from my TV… I look to the sky and think prayers but only see darkness and no stars shining
For God search quest just rest,
cause of movement of thought,
which though processed by mind,
is caused by heart’s desire,
deep peace seeking to find.
For God search quest just rest,
in time stretched tranquil calm,
shifting from head to heart,
animating the void,
by adding love to cart.
For God search quest just rest,
extinguishing desire,
living in witness mode,
slowly recognising,
that heart is soul’s abode.
For God search quest just rest,
lighting the lamp of love,
that thus transmitting light,
we illumine darkness
and garner divine sight.
speakingWhat language does the heart speak
not a thumb thumb, thumb thumb thumb, thumb
what language does the heart speak
whispers vibrates electronic vibrations love
until the Lord eclectic bombardment caressing
each and every vessel for the river flows fire does
as the soul overwhelming unending love professing
the heart sound the rhythm makes my soul participates love
Inflamed moving and vibrates acknowledging speaking
Energy emitting receiving transmitting
Incapable embraceable a breath breathing this is my heart speaking
Hallelujah
5/2/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024
The World's 'One Day Wonders,' 'the' is borrowed
it's an article, they are transmitting
a way of thinking, theirs--much rather showed
--be their forte. What's that word, sort of, goad
people? I did say 'theirs', way of thinking.
There has been someone who creates a scene.
It's sort of their job, naught that they're been paid
for their services, but they are quite keen
at what they do. An elaborate screen,
an opportunists, hated for their trade.
A puppeteer, user, trash disposal,
all necessities, their operations
to be prosperous. They will finagle
and infiltrate, and if they're successful,
establish themselves in your foundations.
The countless stars are clear tonight,
they do not make me feel less than I am anymore.
Like frost they twinkle in the wink
of a cold calamity.
transmitting a vast emptiness.
That silent void used to wound me,
now being less full of myself
I see their light as life-crafts
for dark sea-paths.
In time,
time itself will disappear,
as it wears its illusory thread
down to an impossible idea.
One by one,
whole constellations will blink out.
and those that are left to watch them,
will not fear,
as they disappear into a Light
far behind the stars.
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