Earth

RELICS

Seasons come and go,


But the earth abides forever –


As aged as the gods


That cradle her


In their trembling palms

 


So in the world,


Men come and go,


Burnt out from their lust


For the earth,


Faint from their struggles


With the gods.


Yet some find wisdom


To stamp their shaky feet


Deep in the sands of time.


And so shall this ivory me abide


When I’m gone,


To whisper to my posterity


The woes of our time.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Time may really not permit us to speak of how dangerously we live; how feverishly this transient life passes.Time may not permit us to speak very much. So, one of the greatest legacies anyone can bequeat his or her coming generation is a relic: a telltale to posterity of all our tears, fears, pains, adversities, and of course, laughter.

Methodic Madness

Enslaving chains and wilderness pains 

are broken on healing heavenly domain 

plus graceful throne, envisioned. 

 

Method upholds this marauding madness 

aflicting us on earthly journeys through 

wounded wilderness, deadly disdain 

and frighful famine; distressing 

humankind and nature. 

 

Twisted minds and wicked souls  

torment humankind on this earthly  

journey through birth, life and death. 

Yet, we came with nothing; and with 

nothing, we depart to earth's dust.  

 

Hideous hypocrisy darkens love to 

hide this greatest reality from heaven's 

green pastures, meadows and 

river bed, unchained.  

 

We follow this river path to oceans 

lighted by divine mercy and unending 

salvation; healing broken hearts and 

bleeding, lost souls. 

 

Draw Your Pen

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

The time to pursue your dreams is right now.

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

There’s no waiting. It’s time to go.

 

What’s wrong? What’s the matter?

Are you alright? Please talk to me, okay?

 

Did you lose your home again?

Are your parents disowning you?

I’m here for you only if you let me in.

 

I cannot guide you, but I will be along for the ride.

They cannot put strings on you forever

If you find the scissors to cut them.

Your passions are only for you to decide.

 

Life on Earth could end tomorrow so why the fuck are you wasting your time?

You were born for adventure so you might as well draw your pen.

 

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

The time to pursue your dreams is right now.

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

There’s no waiting. It’s time to go.

 

There’s one thing that you need to know;

It’s to always keep an open mind.

You will possess such beautiful magic

If you would only take a chance.

 

The universe is so much bigger than we realize.

The sun will not last forever. It’s just a fireball that can burn out.

Marine life is going extinct and it’s all our fault.

 

Life on Earth could end tomorrow so why the fuck are you wasting your time?

You were born for adventure so you might as well draw your pen.

 

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

The time to pursue your dreams is right now.

Life’s too short. Life’s too short.

There’s no waiting. It’s time to go.

 

Fields of Rhyme

From my knotty pine writing table
Where I always feel strong and able
I have built a world on typing paper
Where I rule mighty as any dictator

I’ve made a comfortable place of it
For all the pages make a very nice fit
Just the right size for each emotion
And now my life has less commotion

I have company hanging on every wall
People young old short fat and tall
Some funny some in love some whine
All are the brush strokes of my mind

I create interesting conversations
And fabricate all sorts of relations
Everyone does exactly as I deem -
Acting out my every written scene

I know each and every person by name
Know addresses and where they remain
I hear every breath - each spoken line
Without me they’ve no voice or design

I have built a world where I am safe
Where I’m boss so can be early or late
Look out the window - see what I want
Or just hang out - and be nonchalant

I’ve worked diligently near every day
Writing down everything I had to say
Planting many colorful fields of rhyme
And generally having a very good time

But as good as things are I must admit
Something is missing for a perfect fit
For what is a writer without readers
Or a prophet without true believers

So I invite you into my literary home
Invite you to visit and to freely roam
Thru the still crisp pages of my mind
I do hope you like what you find

As I float through space…

As I float through space…

 By jfarrell

 

I can only say “WOW!”; and, cry;

Our planet looks so beautiful; so blue;

So much water… So much green;

I cry, over and over;

So much TRUE beauty;

How could I not cry like a baby?

 

I am being crushed;

All oxygen, all my life;

Sucked from my body; but,

Damn, Earth is SO beautiful;

If this is to be the last thing I ever see

 

Let me float through space;

Forever.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'm floating round my tin can

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After The Golden Age

Folder: 
Poetry

Chaos should not cease

To dominate the world.

O yes, Nyarlathotep;

Will rule!

 

No wish for harmony,

Of its Golden Age;

It was before the Fall.

 

Reveling in constant disorder,

But Yog-Sothoth prefers reason;

Giving His first allegiance

To the Daemon Sultan: Azathoth

Remembering old times of this God.

 

Cthulhu does side with Him,

But Yig supports Yog-Sothoth;

As Father Serpent of the Cosmos,

Who invented this very world...

 

Yog-Sothoth has sympathy,

As Dagon; the Deep One Lord

And not even he can say

What will happen when there remains

A Princess restored on Her throne,

A Princess on Ebony Bone.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

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nEtheR

Here
Running in Red, the dead said something in my head,
the dread bled lead into my being. What am I seeing? Fleeting feelings revealing, rarely repeating, can’t let them defeat me.


Rewiring through time, describing a Fire in rhyme, 
that one in my spine,
it’s a Seussian crime, & I swear, I’m fine, 
nothing wrong with tryin’ out flyin’ away from the well, 
a human hell that cast its spell,
                       to Come Hither and Wither in the Nether,
                       be torn & tethered by its weather
                       be leathered & burnt 
                       by its current,

& if it weren’t for the Hedonist’s Hedge that marked the Edge,
                                             the wedge in my reality, 
I would’ve gone in.

Instead I pledged my pursuits to the flute
her feathered fruits help me refute the polluted mutes from back
There [Ether].

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Spiraling out into a dark direction ~ Carmello Yello

 

Thank you for your time!

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Corpse Pose

Folder: 
Hand Written

"Feel it, 

the sensation of breathing, 

with a new friend. 

Not

 

the addition, 

but the release of a union

of muscle and sinew, 

effort

 

cast to the side. 

The breath

enjoyed

with the support 

 

of the floor. 

The ground, 

the dirt below, 

thinking now

 

of feeling the green grass

in between your toes, 

the Earth, 

our Earth. 

 

Nay, she is not ours, 

we are instead Hers. 

Your breath... 

given strength by Mother Earth. 

 

Do you feel it? 

The ebb of the Earth, 

the beat, 

the ancient, encompassing embrace. 

 

Do you feel the flow

of the Ocean,

the breath of Mother Earth

made manifest?

 

Do you feel the presece

of the energy,

in this room, 

right now?

 

The energy that is still, 

the energy that links us, 

neighbor to neighbor, 

the energy of the mightiest wave

 

crashing onto the shore,

the wrath of the surf

felt as fury by the surfer

that Hell hath no. 

 

The energy of the exhausted canine

resting finally on couch

with the child who so tenderly

ran it tired. 

 

The energy when Autumn comes

when you're not quite done

kissing Summer

goodbye.

 

Do you feel the breath? 

Do you feel your mind 

spiraling all over this

whirl of whimisical words?

 

Do you feel the heart? 

Your heart? 

My heart? 

The flow of energy 

 

of the one to your left

or right? 

Us all, limited not

to labels

 

or categories, 

not by old, young, 

American, skin tone, 

the foolish boy or the sweet lady.

 

Try Human, 

Homo Sapien, 

try Earthling, 

giggling practitioner about spirit fingers. 

 

But, 

you know what? 

I do not

need to instruct, 

 

because I feel it. 

I feel you. 

I feel joy,

stress, searing pain, 

 

us joining as a whole

with our Om. 

So beautiful, 

you people. 

 

This is it. 

This is you, this is me. 

This is Mother Earth. 

I feel it.

 

And maybe you do too."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The piece I wrote for Lululemon's UNITEd State campaign, during a yoga session I sat and observed.

Yesterday I heard the Earth Breathe

Yesterday, by a stream, I heard the Earth breathe and sensed the rhythm of her blood flow.
As I listened to her water rush by and felt a gentle zephyr blow.

I stood at the base of her waterfall...and by her power was enthralled
As I watched her shed her summer leaves as she welcomed in the Fall.

 

 

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