soul

A sonnet for Shannon

a sonnet for Shannon 
 
You first captured my gaze.
Intriguing, curiosity what I would give?
What I was waiting for with one life to live?
A quick glance to one another, my soul wherein?
My heart follows my gaze herein,
A single second to relive?
Do my feelings misgive?
Your heart I want to win?
No! Break the gaze and question no more.
Free yourself and continue on.
I can't let my guard down again.
My heart I wish for you to restore.
Even though my gaze I have withdrawn.
My love for you will still remain.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

how I met Shannon and what I felt at the time. Confused, shy, curious, engrossed, but careful. She had an air of mystery to her when I first caught a glance of those grey eyes. I wanted to know more about her.

Door To The Soul

 

 

 

.............

 

this, the place in mind alone

....the place Rumi speaks of...

the place where fantasy lives

and makes all things tolerable

until ignorance is conquered

by truths unknown. 

 

12:40 PM 7/15/2013 ©

 

..........

 

 

 

 

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tags:

Jazz

Adjusting the lips around the mouthpiece,

keeping them close as the “Mmm,” sound

is produce, now blow into the trumpet and

hears its bell ring—Miles Davis here we go.


Little drummer boy on the snares rattling

sounds of rain; hypnotizing melody, groovy,

yeah baby!


Jazz, my new love affair inspiring musical

poetry; here comes Trane with his saxophone,

the All-Stars on American Band Stand.


Each tune in beat, in sequence…

”tatarara, tara tara,

pumpumpumpumdumdimdumdum,

tumtimtarara,” and the music goes on and on,

marvelous harmony.


Controversial; music without words it’s just

music and not a song, yet the impact Jazz music

brings to my soul is like black tar heroin through

a needle in my veins.


The rush, the cold shivers and shakes; Jazz

musicians sweating profoundly, rapid heartbeat in

sequence with the tune; it’s the high rolling drugs

baby! Yeah!


The music to forget their troubles, heroin to escape

the reality, taken advantage by white music

producers; Cadillac Records paid with Cadillac cars

and chump change enough for the tar.

 


Jazz is here, no more blues, late payment dues,

“I don’t care, sue me!” while I get high without the

heroin or syringe—Mary Jane, Jazzmin baby, Soul! 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Jazz, my new love affair....

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and i want love to hold your soul

Folder: 
Love, Romance

i want to take you for a ride

through the mountains,
watch the sun go down

beneath the shade of evergreens,
and make a wish upon the first star we see

under the moonlit sky,
and on the way home,

i want to buy you an ice cream cone,
and i want you to hold mine for me,

as i drive through the streets,
because next to you, my love,

i am mesmerized,

just as i was on the very first day,
by the twinkling light

dancing in your eyes.

 

i want to pull in the driveway
and feel you smile inside

when you hear the dog bark,
and are at last assured i was comforted,

despite your absence,
by an unconditional love,

equal to that you have given me
for so many years,

immeasurable among the reasoning

of common people,
your love has been a gift of inexplicable worth,

that shallow men cannot fathom.

 

i want to watch as these ties of love,

having bound us so close,
manifest all the years of deep committment

while we bask in those first hours

that unfold our new beginning.

 

i want to touch your lips
and feel the warmth of your breath upon my fingertips,
feel my heartbeat jump into my throat
and my eyes become as magnets to yours,
and melt away the scornful words of men
that sought to tear your manhood down,
relentless and bitter cruelty leaving scars
without a sound to human ears,
but sure as the sun shines in the sky,
wounds real hearts can hear.

 

i want to feel your flesh on mine,
as my mouth touches every part,
and trade the place i keep in my mind,
for a journey into your heart,
i'll tell you every longing
as each breath becomes desire,
unspoken, though well understood,
as love takes ahold of our fire.

 

i want to hold your soul
in love's embrace,

too much time denied,
because to me, my love,
you're just that precious,
i don't want to change

what is shining inside,
and with time we'll journey on this road,
the good things and the bad,
and know that little can lead us astray,
because the worst has already been had.

 

and so that is what i want... i want love to hold your soul.

 

 

11:58 PM 6/13/2013 ©

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Love Sonnet #1001

 

 

 

Sleeping With Aeons

I sleep with the broadest of Aeons,
Coveted by their forceful guidance
The rune of their insulation
Awakens me, perplexed,
As it penetrates past all boundaries.

 

I travel with past lives in harmony,
Seeing without eyes, a soul so inconsequential,
Part of something inconceivable to this world,
Galaxies that far surpass realization.

A mesmerizing intrigue,
This is my wish, my dream,
Same as my life,
And in the interim of nothingness,
Between man's knowledge of the universe
And his imagination,
Is where my heart lies,
Watching from a distance,
Witnessing as this mystery
Touches the minds
Of men who know all things,

 

Who know nothing.

 

 

 

4:32 PM 5/20/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

When I sleep...where are you when you sleep?

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phantasmic love

Folder: 
Love, Romance

your eyes touch me like
the petals of a rose
upon my pillow,
soft against my fears.

 

your hesitance to apply
force upon my desires
melt my doubts,
and my breathing slows.

 

the gentleness of your smile
feels like a warm weighty blanket upon
my feet, secure and strong,
searching for too long.

 

the authenticity of your
kindness finds roots
in fertile soil on the
pastures of my soul.

 

the open door of your heart
becomes an entry towards intrigue
and inspiration returning
from many years lost.

 

in a place of pure nothingness
waters trickle, then flowing free,
my eyes touch you,
and i remember me.

 

3:23 AM 5/17/2013 ©

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The Summons

Deja Vu means something "already seen",
And when it happens to us,
We experience an awareness of something
That calls us to become the observer,
However eerie at times it may be during these moments,
Or perhaps a feeling of wonder, with some element of mystery or suspense,
What is it?

 

Could it be that as we expand and contract,
Within the many different planes of consciousness,
We travel in and out of dimensions of the psyche,
To test the waters of our existence in ways that move the soul,
To greater knowledge and learning?
Or is it some soul inspiration that arises in an effort,
Churning the cosmic wheel to raise us higher
Than the sordid depths, where we wallow in an earthly existence,
Without the fires that fuel man's evolutionary aspirations?

 

Perhaps it is the soul in these moments that thrusts it's momentum onto us
After a feeble will of human self-pity imposes an attempt upon themselves,
In writhing suicidal escape, desperatly, a fettered fragment of itself in a different dimension?
And Deja Vu, a manipulation of time and space by hands unseen,

Belonging to the soul,
And spirit unacknowledged, that speaks to us
Through this awareness, this conundrum, Deja Vu...
   ...could it be, that what it is, is an offer to tear down the walls?

To remove the veils?

 

Deja Vu...

Deja Vu...

Deja Vu...

 

 

   ...an offered cosmic breakthrough?

 

 

12:18 AM 5/12/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

what is deja vu to you?

Expanded thoughts on a variation of the same idea--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfdEdE96En0

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Never Close The Doors

 

In our mundane lives, we are often told
In so many unspoken words that the mind is dead in spirit,
Could it be that it is the very heart of our earthly human existence?
The main entrance to the spirit that adorns our very soul?
Inklings of thought slithering every waking hour
From the obscurity of our subconscious,
Pushing the envelope at every chance to inspire creative ways
For us to open our eyes to the tasks our soul is longing for.

 

Why do so many damn the mind?
Does cursing what we choose not to see, hear, taste,
In this world of wonderment and intricate fascination please us?

Or is it that the status quo is more important to us
Than our reason for coming here? 
Thoughts are the doors to our self actualization,
And we need to leave the doors open
With a stable and harmonious blend of life
To balance the scales within us, using the uncomfortable truths of life
To evolve as a compassionate species.

 

Emotions can take control of humans easily in this age,
And can distort our vision in a way that deceives us, grieves us,
Because they pass through us like nothing but waves on the beach
If we allow them to flow along their merry way,
But we listen to words of intrepidation and horror,

And we attach emotions to those thoughts,

They become very powerful and then
We somehow find that we feel safe in the hands of a ghostly reality
That tells us to beware instead of telling us to simply be aware,
To hold our heads high, accept what is, and trust the quiet voice within,
To leave the door open as much as we can
So that there is room for love to flow through it.

 

Love is not emotion, and emotion is not love,
Control the emotion through a continuous cycle
Of feeling, letting go, feeling letting go,
Because love...well,
You may think you can control it,
But you will only be fooling yourself.

Once you love, it never ends, and is never wasted,
It will return to you in some way, even if it is not the way you would like,
And chances are, if you choose to think you can control it,
You might never realize when you are being a channel for it,
Which is the part of loving that is most enjoyable.

 

Everyone will hurt you in life, even if it is only a small insignificant hurt,

Just choose people who you know you will be willing to accept the hurt from.

 

 

 

11:21 PM 5/6/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Words on the beauty of open-mindedness.

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Al-GUROBAA (The Stranger)

 

A Stranger
Living in the entagle of peoples' fear
In a rough path he is a scavenger
Souls are rejoicing in jahiliyah
Glad tidings to the stranger
In the midst of turbulent cheer
Of rebeliousness at top gear
While Sapiens have torn the viel of fear
Alien he is; he's bullied and labelled a liar
Yet, the truth he doesn't despair
He ramains a stranger
and he's treated like a scavenger
Suffering, his lot; yet his conscience's clear
Glad tidings to this stranger
Forever victory will be his share

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