spirit

OLE IN NEW YORK.

Ole would have loved
New York
he often said
he’d like to go

 

before untimely death
intervened
and stopped the show
I can see him now

 

treading at his own
casual pace
walking the sidewalks
taking in the streets

 

block by block
glancing down alleys
seeking out
the dives or clubs

 

hearing the music
in the smoky air
visiting a bar or two
having a beer

 

or Jameson whiskey
sitting on a bar stool
alone in his quiet manner
dressed in his black

 

overcoat
dark glasses
and black hat
(even in summer

 

he felt the cold)
maybe then
he was getting old
not saying

 

as was per norm
what troubled him
no one telling him
what to do

 

I can see him
go in the stores
and walk
in his usual

 

laid back tread
taking in a show
on Broadway
and being in spirit

 

not flesh and blood
getting in to see
for free
and that

 

would have brought on
his Mutley chuckle
that infamous Ole grin
or smile

 

but I guess
he may not
have gone alone
but have gone

 

with some other
in their ghostly shade
a Hendrix
or Jim Morrison

 

walking side by side
and I wish
it could have been me
there by his side

 

drinking in
his gentle quietness
and deep breath
if he hadn’t had

 

that sudden
out of the blue
untimely
29 year old death.

View dadio's Full Portfolio

I Have an Unknown Friend

I have an unknown friend, who lives in the sky

Why I question him, I do not know why

I should not go to look for him, they say

But I know he'll want to look for me someday

I wonder, I ponder, even as I sleep

I dare not awake, for I have gone too deep

But again, the sun calls to another abrupt wake

Alone again, to find an answer for my sake

I take another step foward, for this I will fight

Forever wrapped in this question, how it echoes through the burning light








The Poison In You

What if I wasn't like you?

And I was just me, and Myself was true?

 

And if you did bad would it mean I would too? 

Would it mean if I did it, I'm exactly like you?

 

Would I be subject to your evil?

Would I be subject to your internal upheaval?

 

What if I am good in spirit,

And you might just rather not hear it

 

And if I did bad, does it mean I'm just like you?

Looking for an excuse for the culprit that causes blue?

 

Decisions left to baseless comparison

Myself gone from me, and origin

She tells me so, I'm just like him and her

Do you see my other qualities as just a blur?

 

Bring my poison, she admits me to it

Determines me as someone else and then she sits

 

Then, who am I?

A continuation of your deranged views, someone elses cry?

What We Are (In the Dark)

Folder: 
Mindscapes

 

Untouchable

Unknowable

Intangible

 

Deeper darkness lurking in the twilight,

Murky depths, rejected by the sunlight.

 

Monsters creeping in the dark, 

Gleaming eyes filled with savagery, 

Mouths filled with glistening teeth.

 

I have walked amongst apparitions. 

I have faced demons and gods. 

No foe or ally is greater than myself.

 

The split, the divide, is as

Different as day and night, 

Greater than the space

 

Between the darkest point of the ocean

And the stars. We exist

Between the realms.

 

Aware of both, grasping one, 

Fearing the other,

When nothing truly exists. 

 

For what is the self other than

A collection of thoughts, 

Of ideas, a ghost?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I should be writing an essay for my english class right now. 

This happened instead.

View reilamorello's Full Portfolio

It Lives

(image from elle.com) 

...........

Ignorance

......

Wasted portions of misunderstood and ignored knowledge

held for ransom, like a secret never told,

Stealthily gaining momentum

from its gravity turned stale, and time lapsed in hiding. 

Soon sheethed in the murky shadows,

lurking in the zone of the unknown,

Waiting.

 

Wanting to free, but hopelessly shackled,

a hostage whose only solace is reveling in a newfound medium,

Somewhere between complacency and torment,

it gathers rapacious auric silt and slime,

Like the ghost of thoughts put to rest,

And stories never told,

Burgeoning.

 

It plays possum in the night,

only to keep a watchful eye

upon the Earth.

 

Devotion and loyalty to reticence

is its only oxygen in the struggle for freedom,

Befriended only by the sound---HUSH!

And speak, but only for the rebirth of itself,

At its core, once long ago, enlightenment, metamorphosed into

a haunting, churlish, savage scowl.

Rude.

 

Ignorance

is the tortured spirit of all things 

misunderstood, held in secrecy,

the words and thoughts of the wolves

who walk with brazen ostenatiousness

in the sheep's hide.

 

07/29/2013 

 

1:31 am

©

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

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Words of knowledge unspoken turn to ignorance, and then to rude, abrasive, violent language and even acts.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

The river

am I nothing but broken bones? is this beating heart nothing but a burden to myself & everyone I meet..?
as I walk through this valley alone..

the shadows become something i've well known.
your eyes, they magnetize.. the fear in my soul is screaming out "lies!"
where should I try to hide..?

the clouds hang above, as the river i'm crossing over continues to flow..
if I were to fall, would anyone ever know? slipping away from it all, even myself..
glancing at these hands, I wonder what would be different if I was somebody else..

 

this forest goes farther than the birds & the trees..
this grass grows taller than below our knees..
my fate is an open wound.. bleeding.. bruised.. cut & used..
where am I going..? what am I to do..?
too many questions within me.. are we all our own worst enemy..?
on the top of this hill, the sunrise & fall reminds me of Gods undying love..
every memory that follows behind is purpose-less..
how could you think you know me better than I know myself?
every word you spew is worthless..

 

dreams are like looking through stained glass..

all different shapes, colors, hues..
why would you want to watch them shatter.. how could it not matter!?
one thing to remember.. don't give your love away, for the sake of saving someone else...

 

path after path, turn upon turn.. we struggle, maybe learn..
I stare into space & wait.. for something, i'll never know exactly what...
ashes have become of these fantasies..
careful not to let the blood of the past stain what is of my today..
dancing around the casualties.. murder my misery.

 

shed a tear for everything that used to be & let it all blow far over me.
if only we could all perfectly mend these wounds..
fragilties of life, scars of death..
the last time you close your eyes... that very last breath..

 

black night sky with stars so electric..
fragrant & soothing, my boat keeps moving..
row, row, drift away..
feet in the dirt but i'm being pulled astray..
the current so strong & winds full force.
the ocean is taking it's course..

 

beneath the misty swamp, stirs disarray..
where Satan's children go to play..
one by one, two by two.. sinking to the bottom.
he's a theif, can't you tell..?
reeking of that evil smell..
naive indeed as you let him feed..
you act as if life has turned you to this bad seed..
fool, you did it to yourself...
why blame someone else?

 

& finally I jump in the river to drown..
reaching out for my savior, not because i'm in danger..
I need to be taken from this earth.. I smile because i'm hurt...
when my feet hit the river floor, i'll close my eyes, & open the doors..
a light shone through, my hope for God was true...
I embrace... soon free... this body was never me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

7.26-7.27- 2013.

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.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

Never-Ending Story

I really do want to believe it's all here,

That it's real, and that it is as great as everyone thinks it is,
Strong and indestructable,

Powerful with meaning and substance,

So that I too, exist here, but why?
These objects made of wood, steel and concrete, glass and fibers,
Clawing an scratching at my spirit day and night,
Begging for my touch to make them real,
And walls, walls, walls, that separate,
Real as this figment of my own imagination
Who I call myself, the existential being I believe I am,
The objects speak in tongues,
And languages unheard of
But understood with senses forbidden
And cast away from what man has deemed to be 'real',
And objects, material objects, jumping out at me,
Talking teapots, spoons and candlesticks,
From stories out of the depths of another's inner world,
Jumping into my world! How dare they come without knocking!
What is it they want? What are they asking?
"We are here just like you", they said,
"Why do you want to be here?"
So I replied, "Why do I want? Maybe I should just be!"
And so from then on I began to just be.

In case I should ever again need a shrink,
I shall first consult the kitchen sink.

 

4:21 AM 4/18/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The illusion called life.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

Infinite

The illumination

 

created by the

 

light of a

 

single candle

 

lives long after

 

it's wick has

 

turned to ash.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About light. 2013.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio