Eat wild wholefoods
fresh unprocessed roots, seeds, fruit,
still warm from the sun
with natural nutrients,
to sustain bodies and thrive.
Growing your own food
builds body, mind, soul, spirit—
harvesting from soil
richly rewards gardening
with produce from your own hands.
Walk where trees exhale,
where surging wave crests splash thought—
in open-air warmth
a seaside stroll in summer
a rugged-up walk through snow.
Enjoying a full wholesome life, is truly a new start.
Open your eyes, Africa.
They have returned —
not with guns this time,
but with contracts and smiles.
You call them investors,
but they are the same colonizers,
only dressed in modern suits.
Why do you let your enemies
run your mines and gold fields?
Why do your children starve
while strangers eat from your soil?
Your copper, your lithium, your oil —
they leave your land raw,
and return to you as finished chains.
You cry for jobs,
yet you export them
with every ship of unprocessed ore.
Africa,
you are the pulse of the world’s economy,
yet you crawl in the dust
of your own abundance.
To the youth in the diaspora —
come home.
The continent calls you,
for the old guards have sold its soul.
Remove the thieves in power.
Their loyalty is not to the people,
but to the puppeteers who feed them.
Europe cannot live without you.
China trembles without your earth.
Then why do you kneel before them?
This is not the time to dream.
It is the time to awaken.
For the second colonization
is already here —
and its name is investment.
"The Scent of Eden"
Up the road I walked
as if in some golden hazy dream
and along the road an honour guard
to the left of me, of red-ripe apple trees
I walked bare feet
into that lush abundance
of waving dark forest green
the scent of mystery, fresh petrichor
wet leaves underneath my soul
moistly called me in, to believe
some kind of beckoning
to unprocessed novel new beginnings
I plucked the largest I could find, as always
stretching too far above me
then, in my hands
I raised it to my rosy lips
before I took it fully in, my over-soul
breathed its knowledge o’er me like a twin
wisdom, its gilded giddy perfume
the scent of Eden,
sings
Candide Diderot. ‘25
Stirred.
Blurred.
Deferred.
A haze of thoughts.
In the raw.
Unprocessed unpolished.
Ethereal feral.
Impulses really.
I might drown.
A sea of ambiguity.
Random content
in my private universe.
At times, I want to scream and be heard.
But all in time that can’t be rushed ~
Excerpt from Collaboration with Kirk Tierney, based on my poem 'Writing Is How I Connect'/ Painting by Suzanne Van Bebber
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
A yearning heart longs for love everytime
Malice it receives time without a dime
Shadowed with the belief of being solo
Trust in hope but always been the one to follow
When certain uncertainties just dont make a difference
Holding on too tight to a loose end
Caged by a yelling heart wanting to be mended
But is pricked to the point where it can't bear no more
Wishing to be the heartfelt one and let go
Bringing out that zeal to prove its worth before the world
Saying"You can make things right, Go on and throw those unprocessed lemons into these turning blades and make your tasty lemonade pampered with ice cubes"
It lets go of the past memories bruising
Hoping to creat a fresh start and new beginnings
Patches up what's broken and lost
Breaking through thy blackened shadow at all cost
Forever remembering to cool up after the days of exhaustion
Cause at the end all that was derived from those prickly thorns were sterilized into my account
For as long as I can remember
I played the peacemaker role
Depend on me as the glue guy
As I try to keep things in control
Don't worry I won't rock the boat
Will keep things safe and stable
Neatly buttoned up at all times
Sure let's just go with that fable
Was always wrapping up my worth
In fixing other people's problems
A well devised distraction tactic
To avoid my issues and not solve them
Been shifting the narrative lately
Starting to shine my light internally
Surprised how much was unprocessed
What a relief to delve into discovery
Now it’s time to make a decision
Where will my energy get directed
Continue to subvert what I require
Or step up to my needs that I neglected
Doesn’t mean I cast others aside
Actually the opposite was proved
When I fill up my own cup first
I'm still the glue guy, just new and improved
I am so glad I am alive
To feel the soft touch of breeze
To listen to the vibrancy of vocal sounds
To wave my body in joy as instinct calls
Even in a confined space of my own
Gratitude holds to still breath
Knowing the heart that beats so profoundly
Feeling the thoughts and inspiration run down my spine
Moisture my soul with creativity
Watching the stories of magical figures
How their life resembles the summer fireworks
Short but glamorous
I'm so glad I’m alive
every pore calling out for joy
Breathing the air sucking in the pure happiness
Oh everything is so wonderfully written
The sadness and the rough overly complicated feelings
Leaving my chest and every chamber of my body
The unprocessed desire and passion to wave and dance as the
Music vibrates in the air.
Oh sweet life
Death, pain, and everything of torture
Oh no I don't regret
Just happy I'm still alive.
I have a heart not pumping not feeling
It hangs on my chest serving no purpose
I want it to hurt but it got nothing
Dried all up of life's forgotten repose.
I am soaked in decades unprocessed truth
Forever trapped in perfect preserved corpse
Without preview of underlying roots
Of how to this kind of creature I've morphed.
I'm undead but I learn to live with it
There is no part in me for emotions
No fatal focus attached to be hit
For cold body to be back in notion.
Eternity will be my company
One hell joke that will never be funny.
Cody Road, Cody Road I miss you Cody Road.
You were the road as a child that took me to my grandma's house.
You were the path in Mobile Terrace, Mobile Alabama that I love.
We played in your rich. red clay of your pure unprocessed state,
when it rained as kids on visits.
But Cody Road, count down it was three short blocks in the terrace to
Grandma's house on third street.
You took me to the perfectly, four room, square house on
cement blocks.
A house of love, grace and life that I always belonged.
It's been a long time Cody Road. Life's been kinda hard.
But memories of you and my grandma will forever keep
my heart warm.
Appetites belie intelligence
Heat the quantum furnace
Furious bellows endure the excitement
Behold...!
Can you not hear the rumble brewing?
Butchers trained
To spin the looms
Tailors primed
To know a good cut when they see one
Everybody washes their hands
We have a guest!
Creator?
How are you this fine evening?
--
Denizens imbibe libations
Chase the dreams of spirits
Curious followers beckon the light
Beware...!
Can you not see the trouble stewing?
Mountains flow
As rivers rise
Locks engage
As arms are taken up to demand of God:
Let us know what you know!
We have our liberty!
But, Creator?
When will our time come?
--
Is there nothing?
I think not
Is there something?
If so...
Be gone, thief!
Blinded by entropy's darkening gaze
Atrophied by the folly of wealth
Staking a claim on the horrors of Nature
As-yet-unprocessed
Cycled
And spent
Creator?
Are you there?
We pray that you order our chaos!
But if we know what we know
What is there left to say?
© Michal Czechak 2016
EMOTIONS
emotions:
Universal language of
The subconscious,
Unprocessed feelings of
Inner self
Your thunderous silence
Supersedes any utterance
The conscious can offer
Bringing thus understanding
To the hearts and minds of
Men
Blessed is the one who the
Plethora of your expressions
Can master
Be he a learned man or a
Layman
For the truth hidden in
The hearts and minds he
Can decipher
Thus
Brute honesty can prevail
Over embellished utterances masterminded
By
The diplomatic conscious
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 MAY 2013
Dawn inspires with her captivating blend
of watercolor hues,
the wisps of fog, the apple crisp air,
the electric charge of the new.
See how she bleeds through the trees
and crests the mountains high
laying her grace, all over the face of
of earth* bound creatures eyes.
Dawn reforms the listless born
and clinks the glass of time,
raising a toast to night who boasts
of jeweled skies in summer time.
See how she weaves with each breeze
the threads of weary fate,
tending her loom from birth to tomb
a fate which none escape.
Dawn breaks each breath that we take
with beauty so sublime
no hour* can resist her kiss,
her never-ending climb.
See now, Aurora’s diadem slips
see her prismatic shine,
bow to her royal Highness
welcome morning’s time.
TIP: Use as much fresh UNPROCESSED product as possible
the packagingis filling the dumps & BACK TO cloth diapers!
I wake up exhausted.
The feelings are there.
I go through the motions of living my life.
Just another day to get through.
Tie my shoe.
What do I do?
Oh yeah, tie the other one.
A brick is pulling me down
as I move ahead
step by step.
Memories tug at me,
taking me out of the present,
unprocessed and toxic.
How can I move on,
light and free,
happy and buoyant?
I can’t get the thoughts from
pulling me,
flattening me,
making my day just another day,
full of lead.
These events,
Gentle cataclysms,
Sweet, soft earthquakes,
Spasm on wet sand
And smoky panes
With tremors;
Seismic finger paintings
In dust and condensation,
Illicit pictures,
Despairing wordplay.
When you are gone
I will mourn
As if death
Has claimed you,
Packed you in a box
In the ground;
The earth around
My heart
Weighs dense and heavy,
Compacting forbidden love
In worms and clay.
I will hide everything,
Concealing truth
Under layers of
The mundane,
Smiling, nodding to dialogues
Unheard and unprocessed;
Through soil strata
Will beat and bleed silence
Of a forbidden love
Living forever,
Denied breath.
Calamity in my mind
Order undefined
Nonsense searching for sense
Failing to form coherent ideas
Unprocessed words and pictures,
Swirling around,
Inexplicable
Orientation lost to utter
Nonsense
Sub Categories
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