The Silence #4

In the back drop stands a Silhouette

Pale and in perfect Lucid stillness

Mimicking the Restfulness surrounding the environment as the fox in the hen house keeps his Composure

Awaiting the Dead stop of the flood light as the night begins her Waning

In Repose there is a silence, a cold frozen Freeze layering the ground around us  

And yet the full amount of the earth is Smoldering

 The breath of solitude is a psychedelic trip and becomes Calm as a mill pond

Quiet like a mouse  

Motionlessness to the sense of vision

As meditative as Buddha and her many followers looking for  

The last living Lotus eater

Basking in the final scene of what was to come

What was there is not

What A Trip

A kitten watching the birds

As I sit in a wicker chair, high on oxygen, poised into the universe

Open and lazing in the loungeful posture of a kitten watching the birds

Like the kitten watching the birds

There is a sense of wonderment and the instinct of wanderlust towards what the birds are to the kitten watching

I’ve been meditating wrong

Or I’ve been meditating in a different way to the ones who can astral project

Allen Ginsberg instructed us to meditate with eyes open (not the third eye), the third eye should always be open but the 2 eyes in our physical realm, should be open.

So the reason I say I’m meditating wrong is I’ve always listen to stories of people venturing into different realms of reality

But I meditate with my eyes wide shut. And since the physical eyes are the windows to the soul and I keep my eyes shut my soul is locked, not locked but relaxed in the dark recess of the self

(I’m not scared of the dark, I’m more frightened by the light)

Closing my eyes does not let my soul astral project but it allows me explore all that is my person, my own realm of reality and to experience and gain knowledge of thy self and what lies under eyes wide shut

Can there be a wrong way to meditate?

2 people just walked by, I’m high on the 3rd floor

I wonder if they meditate

I wonder if the kitten watching the birds is really meditating, with open eyes and that’s why she has the posture of wonderment

I’ve never met a shaman

It would be nice to be led

I have sat in the same subway car that 2 tibetian monks graced with their presence (when I spent time in China)

Robes flowing, presence overwhelming like the Chinese new year

The Chinese new year I experience went like this…. Get woken up at 4am, Handed a cigarette, and a small lighter flame, so the first breath taken is full of nicotine and tar. Lead to the garage and as the door opens, there stand boxes upon boxes. Piled up from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, a 2 car garage filled with boxes of explosive and fire crackers. Standing in awe of the eminence amount of fire workers, handed another cigarette and told to open every box and put every fire work on the road, its 4 am and no one is driving. Fire works layered all over a full kilometer of road. Now the over whelming fun begins, Lighting the wicks

The feeling of fire works exploding and riddling the sense’s with colours

Back to that moment, on the subway where I was led to turn off my music and sit quietly, contemplating, as quiet as you can get on a Chinese subway, escorting the whole population of Beijing, as of 2018 there would be 21.5 million passengers on one subway train. And that is the time I was able to be led, in a crowd, on a subway, no words, just people overwhelming every sense and scene.

 What a trip!!! 

The Minds Eye

Todays poem was a poem I wrote while living in Beijing, China. I spent many a night sitting by a river in the Peking district, Meditating. I spent a year in China, which led me to write my first full length book of poetry entitled ” Elected Endeavours of Emperors”. That year spent meditating and experiencing a beautyful and profound culture was a year of great change and a re-awakening of my spiritual essence. Those nights spent sitting, Mediating, Listening and watching revealed a great truth that swirls around this universe. Its a Truth that can’t be full put into words but it encompasses all that is missing, and all that is needed to find and live a life of fulfillment. This poem, Like many poem from this book (I wrote) is just a way to set the “Door” a jar so you can see the light peaking through. It was a away to start the journey of re awakening and start moving into the new chapter of life.

Minds Eye

I went down the the shore, to see what was in store

and what I found was so much more, that what my mind could imagine

The water, clear as a summers day, ripples from the fishes tail

I only wish I could have time to stay, to bask in all the glory of the wind

To find all the peace on earth

To listen to water speak in tongues, to hear the voice that can not be forgotten

never to be left behind for dead

To sail from shore to shore, never to map out where I shall head

Only to listen and go with the wind

To the North seas, To the South Banks, The east Foreign Land, To the West Coast Sands

I can only imagine what I shall find

Where I belong is nowhere near, Where I am going is nowhere near, there is nothing to fear

Welcome to the Dream

Welcome to finding Enlightenment

She’s all your dreams want to find, she’s all you long for

What I found was so much more, that what my mind could imagine

with all that is held, Inside The Minds Eye

To Play among you

Todays post is a poem about the amazing, profound, ever changing aspect of being a musician, who gets to stand in front of people and bear their soul, create a scene of colours and emotions. As the crowd is on looking and enjoy the power and prowess of music and performance art. I’ve been missing that feeling and those gathering if talented Kool people. So as I was reminiscing about those moments on stage as I practice some new music and poetry, I wrote this poem about all the interaction of being a musician/poet

When I play my guitar

I write in Harmonics, all to reverb and resonate

To produce a spectrum of the inward eye to illustrate

Relax and let all the colours of each note escape and rein in vividness

Its like finding the new Atlantis in arousing stimulants

Sitting, As I stand, I bequeath you to let the colours write in the coinage of your brain

Meditate with me, kindle the fiery orange, The catalytic red, The land of youth green, the chromatic pane

Here we feel no catatonic pain

As every string strung bleeds colours into the bliss of solitude

An openness of shattering in sound

The abstract movements of every finger tip dancing around

The neck and frets

Exploding and folding, bending and breaking the fetters of technicolour

There is no more reasons to fret,

Fore in every harmonic ring we coax a tincture out of our nature

As I pour music to the ether

You pour colours ever deeper

When I play my guitar

I write in aspects to ascend us even higher

As we nurture each-other into pouring oil on the fire

We are the interaction of one and many

The creativeness is always steady

When we can gather and unity with Love in plenty

When I play my Guitar

Our souls are never traveling too far

The prisms colours are like a fast car

The sounds, the Colours, they activate, they cultivate

When I play my Guitar   

Scrabble Poems

Heres another poem put together by a game of Scrabble. Random and Absurd, the best poems to throw into the ether

Scrabble poem #4  

Travel to jail and jab the trend of breaking fresh darts on the king of diamonds

Lounge and see the aero of epic sites

Yea, foxed and pier by ole zits and fags smoke on the zoos Pow

Yea the Du cone

Five into the Air

Qi and ribs emit wine the led the grave to dig and find the dogs chasing the mole at and towards you

Shall we travel and lounge in fresh sites

Making and breaking the kings rein

So jail is not where we lounge

This epic wine is like darts to the dogs

And the moles keep on digging at five in the air

The pier is jabbed and trendy for they foxed the ribs of you

Aero’s of ole created a zoo that emits zits and smokes fags in a cone of pow and Qi

See?

See the cone of fresh trends and kings

Jailed and filling zoos with foxed dogs and moles

Digging to travel

We find five darts throwing fags and epic zits in sites that the wine of ole is at the pier, lounging in the air and emitting Pow and Qi to you

The Aero du and jab at the ribs

The Face I fear Losing

The face I fear losing is fraught with a fallacy filled mask

That foreshadows the fatal fragile self

Fretted and fettered into becoming a frazzled Frankenstein

In fidelity I freely frolic in frenzied freedom of fear

Around the forlorn-ed flutes and forgotten flowers I forget to find the frequency of finding the humble fissure fixed and free from the foreboding fright of being found out as a fraud of forgiveness

I freeze in funk as the phobia of fake flesh fixes itself and will not fall away

I flinch and freeze as I fight the vexing pins and needles of re fixing the mask I fear losing

For finding the well founded facts I must let the mask fall way

Forget the fallacy of fatal fragile fissures

And stay fixated to the truth of self

Becoming a reformulated Frankenstein full of jubilant festivities

As I focus on the fanfare and framework of forgiving and becoming the fore-longing of fun and fancy free

I feast and frolic with the fanfare on fields of folk dancing and foxtrotting

For I have fought the Good fight and have been named victorious

As I have comprehended the fathoms of losing the faulty mask

I fear to lose

Forever yours, Forever Free

The Loss of Feeling

I’m sure we have all lost someone. We have had our hearts ripped and torn. We have all watched someone walk away, Never to return. We have felt Love disappear and move away. Here is a poem expressing that scene we have all faced and Danced around….

Sad Dance

I watched you walk down the hall

Dimly lit by candles

I watched you walk away

Through the door

Never to return forever more

Like A dance, You move, I move, You move, I move

This time without feeling

Like a dream, turning, Yielding into a nightmare

You move, I move, You move, I move

We’ve lost the feeling

The door slamming behind you

But its the sound of our hearts that echo

Into the ethereal, where even the Angels shed tears of anguish

The perfect picture, The Skeleton Tree in a frame of misery

You move, I move, You move, I move

In the attempt to hold the last feeling

As we dance our lasts steps

Your hand releases from mine

My hand unlocks from your waist

You move, I move, You move, I move

The last time with feeling

With a twist and a step, we become fleeting

You move, I move, You move, I move

One more time with feeling

He

Today, Lets us dive into some Spirituality and render that truth about it. Well the poetic truth of what I believe and have found to be true. As these times are getting weird and difficult for us all. Its a good time to listen to the universe, As she is telling us to sit and quietly contemplate about Who is truly in control. I can tell you its never been us (Humans). There is a higher creator standing and ushering us to trust in his planning and purpose for all of us. We just need to simply listen and trust in the Spiritual. So here is a Poem about “Him”

He

When did you meet the greatest beast?

Did he enter your house, proclaiming of a grand feast?

Startled and embarrassed, as he dropped from the sky

Did you not remember, He is you and you are I

He sailed among the stars, Dancing from planet to planet

The spaces between, we found his in-habitation

But yet of his knowledge, we can not inhabit  

With leviathan, The Sphinx, The griffin, the Prophet

All are entities of a higher posture

Not to reign in fear but to teach in love

And once he left, we only see the stars as unspectacular

We once knew of his knowledge, and thought of higher concepts

Now we have fallen to the darkest fictions, hiding in faulty precepts

Read with me, of the times he moved among us

Sounding the gong of radiance, when existence was lush

We now stand on the brink of extinction

Only to look above us

with faulty prayers, and stumbling diction

We beg to the God we ridiculed, to comfort us

So now we must relinquish control

On bend and knee

Find that we had nothing apart from the God that created us, the birds and the bees  

Looking through the books, we still find his finger print in all of history

Now it’s time, if you haven’t, to meet the Lord of Lords

Play a song, of a higher sustaining chord

We shall sit at his table, from first to last

We shall eat the feast of kings, like a Shakespearian cast

This can keep writing on

but it’s better for you to read the scripture’s

and see it’s not some idol picture

Of Mine

Oh sweet love poems. Spring forth in a blossom of passions and peace.

Of Mine

Words of mine words

Ink of mine pen

Passions of mine heart

Expose to view mine soul

So that the rose of mine garden may grow, after the long winters rest

Let the red flourish with the pure white cultivation

Let the blue caress the blank striped white inscription

And reveal what was veiled in the snow and flesh

Hidden in bound fetters, The desire to be with the one

I adore

And love more then

The words of mine words

The one I love more then

The ink of mine pen

The one who is the pilot of my passions of mine heart

The one that bears my soul in the warmth of her smile

The kiss of her lips

In, from, where the rose gathered all that red, the flourished throughout mine gardens

The one I love, who folds to my heart, my left hand and gentle guides the words of mine words to write of such profound, possessing articles of honey words

To the one, I love