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| | Splinters and SoulsPage 78 of 93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93) | roam antic(s)
climb mountains on call
24/7/360
before that calling calls
(they wash themselves in lichens and put paint on their faces)
deliberation
deliberation takes time
it, time, is often lacking
hence attics and antics
for those who live to fool and
deliberate | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/7/2010 12:39:01 PM | | I have dreamed, and I have been touched by dreams. I am no more than a vision—piercing deeply into the light. I am a child here—rummaging freely through the trash cans nearby. My grain and wine has increased, plus, my cup runs over. However, I am still the sin that I breathe. What is the mystery of our breath? Assuredly, I am spirit, and not merely atoms and molecules. I have touched a deep secret. It shall not die with me. And what of this premeditated betrayal? Shall it be the death of us? I sought out a sign, and wisdom obliged me. I long for our first discussion, for she has read into my countenance—she has trespassed upon the bulwark of my soul. I too have trespassed. And if given the treasure, I shall trespass upon the island of another man’s soul. Why has existence betrayed us? She flaunts her indecision. Her charms have enchanted my thoughts—and where is my mind? It is with my thoughts. It is in the fields of lust and Zion. It is torn asunder. However, redemption is not sought for. I shall exhaust this lust—for she is without quench, nor otherwise remedy. | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/7/2010 4:45:56 PM | wow....he returns with a smile!!
splinters and souls
holes within wholes
filled with light
sometimes
shadows
eclipsing
when things
get too bright
or don't feel
quite right | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/7/2010 6:49:46 PM | Awwww...hey! welcome back dear Sir! You have been sorrowly missed! Great to see you NW. Great pic too.
Sometimes when the wind blows,
carried in the mystic breeze, seeds,
auras that glisten, deliverance
of wordsmiths, gracing the realm
of possibility and the unknown..
and sometimes when the wind blows,
we hold our breath, mesmerized by
the swaying crowns, a sensuous
dance of emeralds, transformed
into artistry, words of a poet,
who sculpts the masterpiece. | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/7/2010 6:54:13 PM | J, great to see you back again, and with such a winning smile...
not much to give you, I've been having a 6 month dry spell...
as you discover your grace
there you were
suddenly
without hair
I recognized
your smiling eyes
still, a shock
we 'd only discussed it
last week
chemo - round two
fight for your life
don't get meek
worn out, weak
fight the good fight
I want you to win
I'm rooting for you
LS 2/06/10 | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/8/2010 8:58:54 AM | 
Only one more drop~
Setting sun
into the fire
Another life
take me higher
Infinite clouds
darkend halls
broken promises
heaven calls
what if I said...
what if I did
what if I didn't...
what if you said...
All I ever needed
don't ever stop
Baby all I need is ...
one more drop.
Welcome back friend :) | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 2/8/2010 10:33:42 AM | | I love each of you. And I thank you for the warm embrace. | |
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| Don't Worry
Posted: 3/10/2010 7:17:14 PM | | I know that it has us both. I will do my part from a distance, but try not to think of us. It will not go away, but this way it will not be so intense. Our energy is too strong. Old souls are rising. I must take refuge. Otherwise, we may regret the future. Shall we regret, or return our minds to home? | |
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| Don't Worry
Posted: 3/12/2010 10:37:10 AM | ~Blackbird~
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
~So happy to see you ...so Happy! Good to see you back here my friend! :)
"We've got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant. You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard or just think it's going to get on by itself. You've got to keep on watering it. You've got to really look after it and nurture it."
-John Lennon
"Now Daddy is part of God. I guess when you die you become much more bigger, because you're part of everything."
-Sean Lennon, December 1980
"I can't tell you how much it hurts to lose him. His death is a bitter cruel blow. I really loved the guy."
-Paul McCartney, Dec. 1980
"I consider that my work won't be finished until I'm dead and buried, and I hope that's a long long time."
-John Lennon, Dec. 1980
"John loved and prayed for the human race. Please tell people to pray the same for him. Remember that he had deep faith in love and that, though he has now joined the greater force, he is still with us."
-Yoko Ono, Dec. 1980
"Love is the answer and you know that for sure"
- John Lennon
"One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: "It's only me." And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armor, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armor. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you'd just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world."
-Paul McCartney (on John Lennon)
"I didn't leave the Beatles. The Beatles have left the Beatles--but no
one wants to be the one to say the party's over."
-John Lennon
"All You Need is Love"
- The Beatles
"There's high, and then there's high, and to get really high--i mean so high that you can walk on the water, that high--that's where i'm goin'"
-John
:) luv ya J. , guess I was havin a Beatles John Lennon Moment! xo :)jules
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| Don't Worry
Posted: 4/6/2010 6:00:38 AM | ~The wind caught her
carried her off into the sky
Nothing left of her now
that can be seen with the eye
~Listen real hard
each time that wind blows
Let it tell your heart
what it already knows~! | |
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 4/17/2010 1:01:24 AM | The Eagle soars above the sky
Touching the heavens with wings held high
Gracefully floating in silent wave
Her arms stretched out, forever crave
The love in heart so tender pure
A painful loss with fragile cure
She reaches high and hopes to feel
His loving arms so tender…real
His wings give flight through tender shove
To embrace her heart with all his love
Soaring gracefully in tender skies
He looks from heaven through gentle eyes
Gazing deep within her heart
His memories carried, never part
She reaches high with all she believes
To grasp his heart so he’ll never leave
Saving yesterday as if today
Hoping to quickly whisk him away
She reaches desperately in hopes to feel
His loving arms so tender…so real
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| Splinters and Souls
Posted: 4/17/2010 4:42:21 PM | (i posted this elsewhere...but i thought it could be appreciated here, too)
i dreamt of you
on a night, much like tonight,
when reality's touch felt
rough
weathered
and caloused...
like hands that had worked plenty hard
like hands that have worked in a yard
like hands that have been building
and planting,
and yielding.
that which is sewn, will one day be reaped
as that which I dreamed, into my reality, creeps...
i dreamt of you
and your hands were working on me, i see...
i dreamt of you,
dear god,
love,
me | |
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| The Door
Posted: 4/18/2010 1:37:30 PM | The door seemed solid
Shutting away the secrets within
I hesitate upon the threshhold
Touching the knob
Then pulling back again
What will I find within
What will the doorway disclose
I reach forward
Tentative fingers touch
Grasp the shining oval
Turn slowly, slowly
Until with a click
The door pulls free
Opening to reveal
A brave new world | |
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| Afflatus Particles
Posted: 6/8/2010 4:10:53 PM | While trespassing upon forbidden grounds, we stumbled upon a satanic contract. It appears that through humankind a spirit attempted to sacrifice God. Heaven exploded with rage. How dare a spirit sprinkle unholy magic streaming from hell. An apocalyptic ensued. A psychic impasse shattered to fragments. A selective few witnessed war. The universe was darkness—darkness for a fortnight. Souls awakened, marching through graveyards. Bibles suddenly appeared, set aflame. The winds permitted dragons entrance. Atmosphere gave birth to strange creatures. Seals were loosened. Visions became solid matter. Clouds burned. Spirits upon horses galloped towards the caves. An unwritten scroll began to take form. It chanted the song of cherubs. Divinity covered the earth. We shook frantically—afraid of the karst of baptism.
Daytime illusions plague me. I search the hollows for mother’s sought for refuge. Existence is deceptive, yet so sweet. I begged deception unto reality. Lo, greatly we long, lost in doxologies, making melody in our hearts. Hear, and tend to our complications, Lord.
Eczema has seized patches of my flesh. My nerves are besieged by frequencies of war. My spirit is afire—boiling in bain. This is truth of my perdition.
In the beginning, the canvas was blank—even imperceptible. An invisible portrait took form, and energy created a magnum opus. A genesis ensued. I am now estranged, gnawing upon reparations. There is a flood before me, but pain can only scar a dream: it shall soon become a manifest vision. I am but a child with such thoughts, laden with realities, intuitively wild, praying upon crumbling concrete. When shall God melt the skies?
As if swaddled in the cloth of change, I enjoyed my pyrrhic victory. I danced with wolves, believing in a promise. I hoped for the scales to remain balanced. I was however dissolute. Listen to my soul. It yearns for His empyreal tribune. Ope to my mind a passage, by which I may climb to heaven. Bring me near thy poetry. Love!—why glare upon me, as if shocked, as if taken aback by the feeling of love. Make solid our amore. This is our burg of summer. Infuse lilacs—permit them to besprinkle our garden. Make of them prismatic in love’s image—anagogic to the hearing—poetry to the touch. Paint us into a pneumatic century, where we connect to eternity. Do not allow poison to enter our kingdom, for Father, we have cherished our albatross; we have not tainted the symbol; we have maintained our thirst—this unquenchable thirst. We have loved unto failure.
In God’s voice, I tiptoe upon energy—I listen to the energy of God’s voice. The voice hath swallowed death whole. What is this mystery? I desire to grasp fully the mystery. I have again appeared to myself vividly. But it is unto a mystic encounter, I have no control over it. The duration is thus brief. In brief, I have been given glimpses of myself. Was this preordained? Have I hereby requested of the impossible? What is this commission? It is the thoughts of my days, the cause of cringe in my dreams.
We first nibbled upon tea leafs. The earth then opened to us. We drank of what we could not see. Our tears drew a river. But why should tears turn into rivers? There was something upon us. I know not how to explain it. | |
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| Malaise and Mystery
Posted: 7/7/2010 4:10:04 PM | I have sacrificed the depth of myself, quarreling, making war with life, unto falling, falling into the dungeons of melancholy. My vision is thus murky, and my disposition is found morose. What will save me—removing me from my present despair? Is she a spirit, a generative force, surging throughout my soul?—for although I am grief stricken, an anchor is drawing near—is this my stronghold! Existence is one of malaise and mystery, and joy is a subtle energy—fleeting and feckless. It is the indifference of said joy, which provokes the soul, leaving the spirit to wail in silence. I have wailed unto the mountains, ambling throughout the desert, beseeching my aloof anchor, taking pride in my ability to endure the sorrows of existence—where is my feckless and fleeting joy?
I once enshrined misery, ever descending into her vortex, making merry over my ability to see existence. I soon realized that I was drinking from the cistern of illusion, for existence is merely perception; nonetheless, spidery legs clave upon my being, bringing me face to face with my condition. I wrestle with a lesion, a wound, which has scarred my soul, ever upon me as my thoughts. Unlike the ostrich, I am without the luxury of burying my head within the earth, albeit, I have at times buried my sanity beneath the force fields of bedlam, where I explored freely the kinetic waves of insanity—for existence is one of malaise and mystery, ever pricking at the conscious mind, driving one into crevices of the soul, where the war is vibrant.
Into a whirlpool, I continue to descend, praying that love shall rescue me, for vicissitudes have clamped upon my person, leaving me stranded within the torture chambers of existence. It is here that I suffer deeply—my spirit punctured through with thorns. My soul is contrite, and the mystery of malaise is probing my being sorely, drawing me ever nearer to the ebb of despair. I reckon the madness as prophetic depression, for it is a life giving force, tugging at one’s consciousness, manifesting pearls, rubies, and even diamonds, yet it is too a noose, yanking upon the spirit. My life is a contradiction. My predicament is twofold. At one end of the spectrum, woe is upon me, whereas, at the other end of the spectrum, woe has become my joy. I am surely an afflicted soul, wrestling with splinters, which have become my wounds and weal. How do I become whole, when the mystery of malaise has become the depth of me!
Misery is a mystery, edifying the soul—casting the spirit into the chambers of existence. It is within these chambers that the agony intensifies. It is an intangible agony, yet it is felt in the recesses of the mind. It cannot be conquered. It just lingers, provoking the soul unto familiarity. One soon finds comfort where none should be found. However, since joy is a feckless and fleeting entity, she is soon misconstrued as misery—and the two become one. Yet, the soul forever yearns for soundness, even tranquility. It desires that in which it does not understand; but is there such a thing as peace, or is the soul destined to be divided—haunted by the invisible, torn unto the depth of self. I tangle and tussle with such thoughts, ever at the mercy of malaise and mystery, frightened that a complaisant force is upon me, frightened that I am in search of a ghost; for the hand of melancholy is forever present, and existence is laden with misery, where joy is a promiscuous tease, ever taking flight, once she has been touched. | |
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| Malaise and Mystery
Posted: 7/8/2010 4:19:30 PM | | Do we not perish for passion within? Of the river, I inquire of this very question. An effusion of spirit touches you. And I, I am an outcast for touching your soul. But disentail me not from the human of my soul, and canonize the completion of light without your touch. Is this possible, and why am I so sad for you?—even unto detachment, detachment from you! Are you in pain, disguised in a folksy smile? Yet, contrition keeps you aglow. I hate that I want of you with such depth, the want of indecision. Do you read in wonder of yourself?—for I have read ever and anon in wonder of your soul. How is it that I compose of an aloof woman, the aloofness of love? But urged I am to compose. This cupidity in my veins, is it the crumble of us?—screaming as we do in a benighted room! I sat, uncertain, but still yearning for you. It became my crucible, the spirits’ insanity. My Aporetic Love, dour and uneasy; but how is this in the arms of your love? I inquire without motives. But I could never convey that of me, which is perishing softly. I, thus, wail internally, without a Promise Land for my escape. To have of you, is this not a harrowing embrace? I am heavy, unto the collapse of my mind. I inquire, am I dissolute in your eyes—the cry of a dying soul—searching, that I may manifest an idyllic vision. I inquire, is this not more than lust? What is the measure of this solicitude, of this ache? It must be more than fugacious, for I am without a parachute; thus, for you I fall unto death—without an escape. How have you grown so impassive? Am I written off as psychotic? Have the impressions of human canon enslaved you, and what of this insoluble vibe? Why do we ponder of us? I am haphazard in motion, bereft of turning back the clock; my heart is penchant for you, without remedy but the possession of you. Do I bleed of a different blood? Has the past destroyed of you—the love of you? Is now the risk only for certainty? What have we to die for—if it is not for love? I struggle to live, if only for you. And you have left me deprived, anguished, with only vibrations to cleave. I must learn to exist, and I inquire of why, unable to retrieve heaven. | |
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| Malaise and Mystery
Posted: 7/8/2010 6:12:57 PM | Ahhhhhhhhhhh , so nice to read you, and the questions of life so never answered!
Heaven is a place we long to be, far after all this insanity!
I propose it must be so evident in its presence that everything else is a mere mirage!
I only hope so my friend! xo hugs :) jules | |
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| Malaise and Mystery
Posted: 7/9/2010 10:24:15 AM | | humingbirddancing... I thank you for your kindness, and I hope so as well. | |
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| Malaise and Mystery
Posted: 7/9/2010 2:12:55 PM | | Vibrations awoke me. I was summoned—back into the depths of the cave. It was spiritually opalescent therein. Spirit was incarnate, speaking in untranslatable tongues. There was a supernal midst engulfing its entirety. These are hidden occurrences—they haunt what is left of me. The illuminati elite had arisen, and prophets again touched the soils of agony and betrayal; thus, blood was sprinkled over the ephod. I was then sanctified for the journey—and unraveled was my soul. Thereupon, was read ancient Dead Sea Scrolls. I again awoke in the Forest of Arden. These are hidden practices—within the caves of the psyche. | |
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| Spirit
Posted: 7/12/2010 4:16:58 PM | I was formed in the belly of the beast, after being rushed out of the womb of turmoil, sanctified unto death, ordained to perish softly through this prophetic depression. It is unto the curse of prophetic wretchedness, even ritualistic madness. In my dreams, I see faces depicted in splintered visions—it was then the spirit touched me, even kissed me upon the lips. Does this make the prophet spiritually psychotic, to believe against the condemnation of reason? I need the root of an almond tree. This is what the spirit cries within my hearing, thus, sown within my soul is aguish and angst. In the pits of Sheol, I have dwelt in silence—the silence has become intrusive. Yet and still, my inheritance is love, among pastors that preach of mammon. Homegrown childhood insanity has manifested an adult river of indecisiveness—I am an unshod spirit.
I wonder if Yahweh hears my cry. It resonates within my soul. I must touch the face of Spirit, albeit, my travail would then just begin, for I am split between worlds. The secular has laid claim to my thoughts, but the spiritual is a kingdom within my temple. I am torn, even rived asunder. How do I learn to behave for God, in a world that has rendered itself as godless? This is a deep burden, one without a home, thus, it trespasses upon the threshold of all homes. The fragrance of unholyness has consumed me, but I am without a model to then know of what holiness consists thereof. What will I do? And where shall I turn? To incessantly study the Holy Scriptures, this is a false refuge, for I must eventually return to the secular realm, where unholyness is forever vibrant and ubiquitous.
Where is God, becomes the question? And to feel the Spirit, to be wrapped in the Spirit, is this not significant evidence of the Spirit’s presence? But I yearn to touch the face of the Spirit—to even walk hand in hand with the Spirit. How is it that I am dearly in-love with the intangible, the incorporeal? For those encompassed in Spirit, it becomes an obsession, urging us to seek after that in which we cannot see. I have become this very obsession. I desire after what is hidden within, secluded from vision, even reclusive, furtively present within the soul. I have journeyed through the caves of my soul, echoing the Spirit’s chant, only to be given a mere glimpse—only to return with a spear in my being. However, I shall continue to seek, for I have felt the Spirit. | |
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| Stargazing
Posted: 7/14/2010 2:20:15 PM | While stargazing, I began
To drift, wafting unto
A spiritual sphere, where
All is blissful, where
All is serene.
While stargazing, I began
To ponder of love,
And the precariousness
Thereof. Is love a
Charm, bewitching the
Soul?—for she has cast
A spell upon me.
While stargazing, I began
To walk into a
Dimension of fear.
I was paralyzed. I
Saw a reflection of
Yahweh, terrorizing me
Within the mirror.
While stargazing, I began
To fall into a
Sphere, where reality is
Elastic, and illusion is
More than a myth. I
Found a home in this
Sphere. | |
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| Stargazing
Posted: 7/14/2010 3:26:54 PM | Looking up at the stars
I begged God to show me the path
He just twinkled back
Gazing upon the crescent moon
I asked for the pain to please end soon
only cold craters greeted me
Speaking to a robin in the grass
I asked how long this insanity must last
he swallowed his worm and flew away
Looking into my heart
I realized that the reason we must part
is beyond my control
who cares if it's a soul
mate
sometimes the hands of fate
beat God at his own game
how ****ing lame
when this pain won't go away
I've no more time to pray
just sit with my clouds grey
wondering why I ever laid
eyes
on a man
who was nothing like
what I planned
but everything I wanted at the same damn time
I'm out of reason
and out of rhyme | |
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| Stargazing
Posted: 7/14/2010 4:05:48 PM | | ^^^I love the spirit of this poem. It captured my attention. Great write. | |
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| Stargazing
Posted: 7/14/2010 7:03:46 PM | it was meant as a compliment to your poem as well.
I really enjoyed your take on the stars...  | |
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| Grief
Posted: 7/20/2010 3:23:54 PM | My life is the ambiance of
grief, where apparitions haunt the
soul, leaving the mind in derision.
What is the catalyst of such sorrow,
and what does the future behold?—
for presently, I wrestle with a phantom,
ever entangled in cobwebs. I need to
remove the scar, that I may see
myself, that I may tiptoe upon
the symbols of music. | |
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