Unleashing the power of the mighty pen

Fragmented completely and thoroughly broken with explicitness as the only means for definition of said brokenness.

Stiffer than a corpse giving deathbed’s modern-day look of peeking sun and morning moon’s confused look transpiring onto pages of life. Collapsing lung crashing thoughts yielding nothing in return, paralleling altered states failing to grasp written and non-written words, just avoided truth remaining as if patterned after a triggered, traumatic experience, yesteryear and childhood blanketed cover-ups.

Year after year, the clouds roll in, bringing heavy density with midsummer night’s dream foreign to fading memories of ancient and…

Never giving thought to whether I would be saved, just living by what feels acceptable or beneficial to self and all. Maybe it was stubbornness to outside worldly influence, clashing with inner knowing of how the world might appear in my world.

Living to the fullest, zig-zagging in and out of traffic, careless at first glance but assuredly methodical in pursuance of an end goal of something not fully understood, taking every breath to its last, every step to world’s end, expanding boundaries every day.

Voices screaming “you are not invincible” from the outer voxes playing by everyday rules, ignoring…

Self Awareness

Formally not choosing a word, guiding footsteps forward-moving energetic being self, not bad or good as once shared various thoughts. The commonality of phrases refreshing themselves mid-way, caressing innermost workings of mystical, magical inclusivity, sans the fading coercion of fervid dogmatic perpetual belief, continuous change agents acting fortuitously on our behalf.

At years birthing stance navigating thematic squawk, learning and unlearning persisting course uncharted as foretold by the ancients — soon daring to dive deeper than ever before. …

In the middle of it all,
pain and gladness remain.
Illusory,
consuming days.
Giving thought,
scale tips here or there.
Letting go,
planting more seeds of what remains in construct.
Walking with,
finding peace amidst the suffering.

Stepping out,
accepting shadow of doubt and light of hope.
Frozen in time,
stuck or more illusion of self.
Embracing,
All there is.

We move on,
acknowledging yin and yan.
Carry on,
Love flows from the soul.
Surrounded by blindness,
Continuing step in joy and gladness.
The pain still remains,
We are whole.

Boom!

The voice of truth — is shared.

Stepping into…

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door
right there in front of you — opportunity knocks
open is the door before you
need only step forward.

Writing this transports me to another time,
dabbling with the idea of another prompt,
time travel to recall lessons gifted each day,
a classic tale of putting one foot in front of another.

Driving along, with kids bantering in back,
older says to other, “we are all time-travelers.”
Younger pleads, “please stop — I am afraid of this.”
“It is inevitable, constantly moving forward.”

We are all time travelers, game-changers,
if we see to it that…

Guest Prompt: week 2, day 1

These are my thoughts
Written upon a page
Transcribed, transfixed
Transmuted, transfigured alike
What was once no longer the same
What will be will be
Receive abundance and all its mystery
These are my thoughts
Written upon a page
Accepted by self
Allowing its flow
What was What is
It is present moment of the day
These are my thoughts
Written upon a page
Looking out, Looking In
Mirrored reality
Affixed to Great Mystery
These are my thoughts
Written upon a page
Helping me, Helping Thee.

But are they? Thoughts remaining fixed in black and white — if not for…

Response to Guest Prompt

In a crazy upside-down world, it is easy to get lost in the day-to-day, the collective thoughts floating about. Lost in media molestation, convincing as it may be, where does one turn for truths and sanity of self-driven happiness? Inwardly we proceed, seeking our truths, our reality of sorts, either coming to a place of knowing or misled by external forces lurking about.

In the morning of our lives, we aimlessly attack the world with such vigor and persistence of getting recognized by family, peers, and worldly dreams of making a difference in this confusing realm of possibility. I, for…

Poetic Response

These steps pure as morning daisies,
loves kiss upon directional pulling thought
the action-based reality, transforming organically
effortlessly, continuous poet in motion.

Not their cup of tea — for one, maybe three
what is right, wronged by another’s belief
shaming, punishment by death — perpetual tickle
banished to an island — not even an option.

Years passing toadstools begging for a glance
two left feet furthermore not even a chance
hands and knees beseeching just one dance
finally giving up — they come around too late.

Little one’s pitter-patter across the floor
divide and conquer beginning course
self-sacrifice, death-do-us-part — of a…