Earth

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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Die for You

Folder: 
Beautiful Imagery

Brother,

I will die for you. 

But please, do not rejoice –

this is not a declaration

of my loyalty to your life.


I plan to kill myself tonight, brother…

for you – please do not try

to stop me. 

I do not want to hear

of my life's value; I

do not want to hear your rage

at the thought of my

perceived uselessness.  

I know my life weighs on your soul,

and challenges your style of living.  

I know that we clash

more often than we intertwine, and

it is for that reason that I

choose to die. 

I will rid myself

from your existence,

for you.


I do not say this to implant guilt;

please do not misunderstand. 

I choose this path, brother, because

I love you.  More than words

can ever hope to describe

in a world filled with words

callously used to hide behind.


Sister,

I will die for you. 

Please, hold back your tears –

this is not honorable.


I will end my own life…

for you. 

Do not worry; I love life,

and all of its splendor. 

The trees call to me

in sweet tones that allow my

mortal mind to forget time. 

I am allowed space

to unfurl my physical trappings,

to relinquish my understanding

to the Soul of the World and

refill my cup with eternal love. 

The symphony of life quells

my restlessness in

ways Western medicine seeks

to mimic, but cannot quite replicate. 

But my reverence for such beauty

is in opposition to construction

and progress.  I cannot abide

endless consumption, so I

will remove myself from this

global equation,

for you.


Lover,

I will die for you. 

Do not look at me with such disdain –

this is not Shakespearean tragedy

manifest.


I poison myself because

I long to die… for you. 

I am not naïve;

I already dearly miss your skin,

the current surging within

that revitalizes my soul. 

I will forever hold your love

as the pinnacle of this physical world;

the height of true majesty,

paling the purple of the mountains

from the land we came from. 

Most of all, I adore your eyes,

as they diminish my existence

with the immensity of Gaia’s power,

wrath, and benevolence… I

will miss those fiery windows most of all. 

I realize my Aquarian tendencies

leave my head cloudy with images of

utopia – images in stark contrast

to our civilization,

this reality you remain grounded to. 

I know that is why we are no longer

in each other’s arms; your absence

shaves my humanity, membrane by

membrane, so death seems

inevitable.  Why not cut

to the chase?...

for you.


Humanity,

I will die for you. 

I will not be a martyr – I

am not strong enough for this world. 

I imagined myself an actor

in a new age play,

a catalyst of a movement toward

enlightenment.  But I am

meek, and incapable of lasting

through to the end of this struggle. 

When hard times come,

as they always do,

I will not be here.  Someone

more capable will take my place

beside you.  Someone with

unflinching bravery and

unlimited strength to guide,

and be guided by you. 

I am sorry and I apologize;

it cannot be me.  I

am weak.


CLF 2015

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please help me with this; I would like it to be critiqued.  I am in the process of editting it, but I am currently fatigued as a result of what this piece means to me.

Do not worry, I am not actually suicidal -- this poem means to vent the frustration constructively, to avoid such an outcome from seeming attractive to me. 

Earth

No matter how long we roam,


Ever embraced we are by the colossal home,


That we call earth, the safe abode for humankind,


Like it, another place we can hardly find.


 

The earth lets us live,


Lets us cultivate and provides foods to survive,


Even after we pass away,


The very earth gifts us the second home right away.


 

The earth is ever on the move since industrious,


Hinting at the necessity to work ever thus.

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tags:

*The Earth Beneath You*

October.1.1997 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins


When ever you walk around 
You step on rocks beneath your feet 
You hear a crunching sound 
Where ever you go the earth and foot meet 

 

The rock so cold and dark 
The trees so brown and bare 
If you happen to walk without shoes 
You'll get cut or end up with an ugly mark 
Or better ye get a bruise 
Walking on glass would be a foolish dare 

 

The sand is tan and dull 
People say the earth is a beautiful sight 
Or you have a beautiful soul 
But they never wondered 
What it would be like without light 

 

The earth beneath you is dark and dreary 
Damp and cold 
It's like a horror series 
Keeping the earth from falling 
You could never hold 

 

Copyright* 

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