When The Spirit Moves
When the spirit moves it's the summation
of everything I am without definition,
the averaging out of all my existential crucials,
the dark matter of the moment
expressing the perennial insight
not as signs in the light, but light itself.
I don't know what it is or it is not,
maybe just an enculturated meme of antiquated emotion,
or a way of hallowing the next breath I take.
I could be cynical and say it's fake.
But then I'd have to eat my own ashes
with a long spoon, and what would I do
for an encore? Boring if the truth
doesn't leave you gaping in wonder at something.
I've seen the wind at night in full moonlight
silvering the hot gold of the wheat
as if it were cooling a sensitive burn on human skin.
I've seen the fireflies in the valley
illuminate the cloud of unknowing
after a summer thunderstorm
like a chaos of lighthouses on shore
signalling to an empty lifeboat.
I've been engulfed by the fearful immensities
in the heart of a woman when her dark energies
start to accelerate space up to the speed of light
and even the most quotidian moments,
lipstick on a rumpled kleenex on the kitchen table
beside the abandoned mirror that couldn't
get a handle on things, blood on the bedsheet,
the cooling red of a farewell rose, all,
supercharged with chameleonic frequencies
of eternity forever the silence of time and the void
when you're mystically terrified by the passage
of beauty and passion into the carrying forth
of a waterclock just back from the wellsprings of it all.
Who knows where the time goes and everything with it?
I suspect it follows me home like a feral cat
that wants me to adopt it so it can bring me in
out of the cold. I used to think that spirit
was a smudge of a ghost, a gesture of air,
an aurora borealis in a twilight zone
where the sun shines at midnight and the snow blooms.
I used to try to touch the intangible with my imagination.
The void arrays the things of the world.
Can the mind do any less as a serious creator?
That's when I discovered the fingertips of the very hand
I reached out with was the spirit reading Braille
because I was blind to what the dark constellations
in the black mirror were trying to tell me
engaging the spirit as a scribe and interpreter
one moment, then blowing it in my face, the next
like a squall of stars in a vertiginous gust of wind.
Snuffed out like a matchbook just when I thought
I had things flaring away like sunlight at a rave.
The spirit that witnesses is not a cartographer
with a surveying team on the dark side of an Orphic skull
to assess if all its softer continental plates
had synarthritically reassembled themselves
like Humpty Dumpty back into a cosmic egg.
The lamp might be shattered but that doesn't mean
the light's broken. The spirit never really mends.
It just keeps on shining in a wounded space
until it doesn't feel the swords of the assassins of water
arming their shadows for a firefight with a dragon
that brings the rain like a medic to a battlefield
where the slain forgive their slayers for healing the moon.
The heart governs in silence. But the spirit moves
like a processional stillness through the mind
that shakes the diamonds out of the cuffs of your crazy wisdom
like dew from the mandalic cobwebs of the morning
and turns the lint in your empty pockets out
to show you you were richer than you thought
before you left home to seek your treasure elsewhere.
You cherish the jewels at the expense of your eyes.
One star tweaks your devotion more than the rest.
And they all go out at the same time. The spirit
doesn't refuse the mind anything that allures it.
The full moon doesn't obstruct the flight of the blue herons.
The spirit isn't the voice coach or dream grammar
of what gets written about your life long after
you're too far, too long, the moment you're gone, to read it.
The spirit is like sentient space. It doesn't come
with an entrance or an exit. The axis of the earth
might be the tent pole of a circus going up in a starfield,
and all the constellations swinging on a trapeze
in a travelling freak show of ring masters
and snake oil salesmen pitching their wares
on a blazing midway meant to befuddle the senses
into buying a peek at the grotesque and ugly
so you can secretly gloat at the shapeliness
of your own reality depending upon the comparison
for your sense of ascendency, your shaky rung
on the ladder out of the snakepit it's got a foothold in
like a black hole cornerstone in an avalanche of galactic quicksand.
Spirit is flame, muse, familiar, sybil and friend.
No more than butterflies need to be liberated from their cocoons,
or dragonflies from their chrysales, the gerry-mandered huts
of their koans and fortune-cookies, does the spirit
need to be liberated from its earthly transformations. Who
can liberate the wave from water. Who can liberate
space from space? Just because the blossoms blow away
doesn't mean they're trying to flee the apple tree.
Let the spirit dance to its own picture-music.
Let the spirit play like the sea with its own weather.
In a bifurcated world that revels in reflecting its opposite
to get a rise out of consciousness, need one eye
be the disciple of the other? Speak quickly
or you'll regret you forgot the answer
and start looking for intercessors to do it for you.
Dark watershed and radiant wellsprings of the muses
hauling up buckets of stars to bathe in like a moonrise,
your spirit a fountain, what need for it to drink spit
out of other people's mouths, or masticate
the sacred syllables of someone else's rapture at being alive
but its own? Whether you're at a foodbank
or sipping nectar from the birdhouses of the gods,
even the angels can't chew your spiritual food for you
and have it do you any good. Say, ah,
when you look at the world with infantile appetites
like gaping new moons trying to add to their collection
of silver spoons. Let the thief run off with them
like a crow with an eye for shiny things. The sooner
you get rid of the tinfoil, the sooner the shining
will get real for once and everything you rejoice in,
everything you feel and think and grieve for,
your commonsensical ignorance of the goat paths
up the mountain, and the avalanche of asteroids
you bring down on yourself as if your valley were a grave
the mountain dug for itself, to the enlightened lunatic
of your crazy wisdom raving in laughter with the wolves
at the rising moon, everything thereafter will taste of stars
in the eyes of the ageless friend you've made
of your own presence sweetening the air of a late October night.
poem by Patrick White
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Related quotes
Spirit
I can see my destination
I can hear my call
No more hesitation, mmm
This time I'm goin' for all
'Cause I know where this road leads to
And therefore I will rise
I know this dream will come true, mmm
And I will soar the sky
(Spirit, spirit)
Would you guide me? Oh
(Spirit) oh (spirit)
Stand by me
Come on, Come on, Come on
Set me free
I can feel the penetration
Of a strong wind movin' me, mmm
I feel can the elevation, mmm
Of an angel lifting me, mmm
'Cause I know where this road leads to
Therefore I will rise
I know this dream will come true, oh
And I will soar the sky
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Would you guide me? Ohh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Standin' by me
Come on, Come on, Come on
Set me free
(Oh spirit)
Now that I've found my way home
I've got to get there, get there (get there)
Though one step seems one mile long
Your bridge before my face (your bridge before my face)
I will take the leap of faith (I will take the leap of faith)
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Would you guide me? Oh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Stand by me, oh
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Set me free...
(Spirit) spirit (spirit) spirit
Spirit, set me free
(Spirit) help me find my way (spirit) stand by my side
Spirit take my hand and be my guide
(Spirit) run free (spirit) run free
Run free, run free
(Spirit) run free (spirit) run free...
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Of America
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
The bonneville salt flats had seen some strange things
But the strangest thing yet was a jet without wings
Once as a jet it played in the stars
But now on the ground its the king of our cars
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
An airplane an auto now famous worldwide
The spirit of america, the name on the side
The man who would drive her craig breedlove by name
A daring young man played a dangerous game
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
With a j-47, a jet for his power
Craig breedlove had averaged four-o-seven per hour
Both man and machine had given fair warn
Theyd set a new record on that warm august morn.
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song. Written On A Blank Page In Beaumont And Fletcher's Works
1.
Spirit here that reignest!
Spirit here that painest!
Spirit here that burneth!
Spirit here that mourneth!
Spirit! I bow
My forehead low,
Enshaded with thy pinions!
Spirit! I look
All passion struck,
Into thy pale dominions!
2.
Spirit here that laughest!
Spirit here that quaffest!
Spirit here that danceth!
Spirit here that pranceth!
Spirit! with thee
I join in the glee,
While nudging the elbow of Momus!
Spirit! I flush
With a Bacchanal blush,
Just fresh from the banquet of Comus!
poem by John Keats
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Water and Spirit
A son does what he sees and,
A daughter does what see see too;
For this world do go around us to learn always.
At the seventh hour,
At the moving of the water,
Of the scraps that remained after the work;
Begotten of water and spirit for the wind to blow where it will,
And others born of the flesh like a keeper who gets the ball.
Born of the spirit,
A player scores a goal!
Rivers of living waters like clay with the spittle;
He is of age and she is of age too,
But a man's mind is full of darkness.
Of ears to hear,
Of eyes to see and,
Of a nose to smell with too;
But the measure you give is the measure you get.
When the water moves,
The spirit gives life;
Like heavenly bodies and earthly things,
But deep inside the well is the darkeness of death.
The bridegroom gets the bride and,
The light of life is for us all to share;
Like water and spirit on the muse of one's birth.
I came into to share my mind,
You came into life to play your part,
For this world is like the water and the spirit around us;
But the wind blows to where it will.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Spirit of God
Friend, as the wind tends to blow, not knowing where it will go,
Or from the place it has come, but we will see what it has done.
So it is with The Spirit friend, The Spirit that Christ would send.
The third person of The Godhead, sent just like Christ had said.
Sent to move upon man’s heart, to give man a brand new start.
God moves men with The Spirit, with The Word as they hear it.
The Holy Spirit you can not see, but He’s been here for eternity.
And He moves throughout the earth, leading men to New Birth.
He moves upon every nation, ministering to all God’s Salvation.
He convicts the heart of man, as He leads many to understand,
There’s a spiritual side to life, which is centered in Jesus Christ.
Without Him all men would grope, in the darkness with no hope.
But He leads them out of the night, and into God’s Eternal Light.
By guiding them to Jesus Christ, who offers all men Eternal Life.
The Spirit uses The Word of God, to be His voice where we trod.
Like a gentle summer breeze, He sets hearts and minds at ease.
Like the wind, a natural force, which moves upon a given course,
Showing to men God’s Power, and this everyday and every hour.
The Spirit too, was sent to us, so that all men, in God could trust.
The Spirit’s a comfort in this strife, leading believers to New Life.
Like the wind you can not still, The Spirit is sent to do God’s will.
As the wind leaves its mark, God desires to change man’s heart.
Wind we hear but can not see, can adversely affect you and me.
But, The Spirit only comforts men, who in Christ are Born Again.
Space Travel Made Easy
Just think;
Space travel without a space suit or spacecraft!
Not possible?
Think again!
There is no need for physical form when spirit is set free
Spirit is pure consciousness that is impervious to hot or cold
Spirit has no need to breathe, eat or drink
Spirit can travel anywhere instantly
Want to know how the sun works?
You can go to the sun’s surface by sheer intention
Yes, anywhere is not only possible but practicable
So how do you separate spirit from your body?
Firstly your ego must be bound and gagged
Then meditate to still the doubting mind
In time you remember how to leave your body
Next you will yourself free of physical form
On Earth;
Release of form is the only freedom possible
Freedom is the launching pad for your spirit
An unencumbered spirit knows all there is to know,
And absolute freedom makes everything possible
Now there is only one question left to ask
What star in the Cosmos do I want to visit?
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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My Spirit
I have often felt alone and foreign
Within this place or world everyone calls home-
Perhaps a part of me had died many years back- although
My spirit lives on and looks upward towards the sky, past midnight
Perhaps to awaken in some other realm- Alive and unafraid,
I see the stars brightly shining against the midnight sky,
Far away but close to me in a unique way-
The rings of Saturn intrigue me and inside of the world of my dreams,
I have become as a dove, lifting my wings
To fly as I continue my fight to
Find a place in this world, as my spirit attentively watches over me-
It has been said that everyone is born with a spirit inside-
I was born with a mind, confused, frightened and divided- although
I was born with a spirit that is strong, brave and wise-
I lift my wings and fly, following the direction my spirit, as
My spirit is my only hope- My hope to find a life for myself.
Free from the apparition of the nightmares of my past-
Inside of my mind I know that if I follow the direction that
My spirit takes- enlightened by the sun, the moon and the stars-
Perhaps in the fondest of dreams, I will reawaken and fly away from my fears, and
Find a place in this world-After all, the stars, the moon and other planets
Are far away, in another realm, and unreachable.
The beauty of a spirit is that it never dies, and as my friend it will always be there,
Watching over me protecting me from harm as
I awaken in rebirth from the horrors of my past and from a distance in thought
I can still follow the mystical beauty
Of the moon and the stars in the midnight sky above me
And I know now that when clouds cover the sky and darkness prevails-
The sun shall always rise, I have found peace of mind, and my spirit lives on…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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So Others See
As The Spirit moves on men, they are led to be Born Again,
Experiencing a spiritual birth, while living life upon the earth.
Some say spiritual conversion, is by others just a diversion,
Taking them out of true reality, to a world that none can see.
It’s by faith we’ve been saved, from the world, so depraved,
Believing what we cannot see, and focused now on Eternity.
We get Truth on what’s to come, by the Spirit of God’s Son,
God’s Truth about a reality, that’s bigger than eyes, can see.
From a world, changing fast, we see an eternity that will last,
Knowing not what is ahead, we lean upon The Word instead,
With our focus now on God, not on the shifting, earthly sod,
It’s The Spirit we can’t see, who opens eyes, of you and me.
Eyes of only earthly sight, were opened by the Gospel light,
Once veiled to things of Christ, are opened in a spiritual life.
A new life of Eternal worth, far above all the things on earth,
For all we can touch and see, will never last through eternity.
It is The Spirit, who opens eyes, to make men eternally wise,
A wisdom that shall begin, that moment you are Born Again,
And begin living your life, through the Spirit of Jesus Christ,
Living a life so others see, the Hope that you have Eternally.
(Copyright ©01/2008)
Spirit In You
Under your skin theres something beckoning,
Theres something that makes me believe in you.
Behind your eyes, thats where the sacred lies,
You know I need to get through.
Oh here I go again.
Through the undergrowth again;
Feel the earth move, the planets spin
But I cant get through.
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
That I want to find.
Ive seen your face, the one your mother made.
Now let me see what makes you really move.
I know youre scared, I know its tender there,
Just let me closer let me get through.
O here I go again,
Through the undergrowth again,
Feel the earth move, the planets spin
But I cant get through.
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
That I want to find.
And when you make me feel
When you make me bleed,
My lucky stars fall down on me.
You know I need to know you,
I need to see,
I need to take ahold of whats underneath.
So close your eyes, close your eyes,
Unlock your mind, unlock your mind,
Throw off the fear, and let us fly.
O here I go again,
Through the undergrowth again;
Feel the earth move, the planets spin,
But I cant get through.
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
That I want to find.
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
Its the spirit in you,
That I want to find.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Of A New World
Maurice white, david foster, brian fairweather & martin page
We wake from a dream looking through
Different eyes
Some other space and time
Where love survives all the changes
Time takes you and I into another life
Burn in our hearts of fire
A new design, we are changing
Let the spirit of a new world
Keep our love alive
In the spirit of a new world
Were in overdrive
Believe all that we feel
Living a future dream
Open our eyes to see technology
Our direction
Let the spirit of a new world
Keep our love alive
In the spirit of a new world
Were in overdrive
Step into the dance
We step into the dance of life
Ride the rhythm take a chance
We can make the spirit rise
Reach out theres a new world we created
Break out, hear your heart shout
You can make it
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spirit Of Christmas
The star of Bethlehem was shining
Across a Palestinian sky
The Church of the Nativity was crying
And we looked on, who can tell me why?
Where are the wise men when they're wanted?
Nowhere to be seen, like thieves in the night
The desert is drifting every closer
The world won't sleep well tonight
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
The shepherds are in the fields sleeping
Waiting for a sign to light up the sky
Heaven is moving ever closer
The promise of a child born on high
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
Looking for an answer that escapes me (Love set me free!)
If there is a reason let me know (Whoa!)
Drifting slow through time and space not knowing where we are
How did we ever get this far?
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
Lost in the desert or covered in snow
Where did the spirit of Christmas go?
If you can find it, please let me know
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O This Morning More Than Ever
O this morning more than ever
I want to disappear into my life
like a bird into the blue oblivion
of a migration of one
that's never coming back.
Things aren't solid.
They're real.
And tonight I will appeal again
to the subtle intelligence of the dark matter
that resonates throughout space
like energy musing upon itself at rest
after long labour
to let me evaporate with the stars
like a breath somebody took
deeply into themselves
and then breathed out.
Did my eyes sweeten the windows
they looked through like women?
Did my looking help ripen the stars?
Strange wounds.
Stranger scars.
There's no end
to the myriad afterlives of water
that a human lives through
like the weather
of an undiscovered sea
and time just keeps
carrying things forth into the carrying forth
like a clepshydra of severed heads
bleeding like buckets
one into another.
An alphabet of prophetic skulls
that never finish a sentence
because the things we say
already have more in common
with the dead
than they do with the living
from the very first word
that falls from our mouths like an apple.
If I have spoken in tongues and symbols
and mixed occult elixirs
like secret constellations
to heal the injured night
my voice never forgot
that it was a mere gesture of moonlight,
a mystic adagio of picture-music
dancing alone in its own shadows.
And if I went crazy in the pursuit
of an earthly excellence
it was just to pass the time.
Anyone with a spirit needs a cosmic hobby.
Anyone with a mind
needs to let go now and then
like a universe that expresses itself completely
and then stands a human up
like a finger to the lips of a prolonged silence.
And what can you say
to those with a heart
that wait for blood to return
like the wind to their sails
with good news
like oxygen from Atlantis
that things are beginning to look up
except drink up
until you're sober as dry land again.
The ecliptic intersects the celestial equator
at the equinoctial colure
and it's spring again
in the northern hemisphere
where the crocuses
are poking their noses
through holes in the snow
like bruises beginning to bloom.
If there is no wonder in your love
you will never know
the profound delight
of being grateful for your life
and the stars won't humble you
when you ask the night who you are
into knowing what they do.
Stop listening to everything with your mouth
and sit down beside the fountain
like a road or a sundial
that's found its way back
and hear what your ears
have been saying for years
about the coin you lost in the mindstream
like your passage across the river of death
coming up like the moon
over your left shoulder
to take your breath away.
Wisdom renounces the wise
and therein lies enlightenment.
Ignorance embraces the fools of the spirit
and there are no words for it.
The best is clarity.
Clarity is all.
This is a doorway.
This is a wall.
And this is all the gold of India
I would give if I could
to sit down with Hafiz
by the banks of the Ruknabad
among all those Persian roses
and steal musical riffs from the stream
to say what we impossibly mean
to the young slave girl
with the mole on her cheek
who's learning to speak our language like a muse.
If I have longed for things all my life
as if they were out of reach
it was one of the dark jewels of my childhood
the died like an eye for a lack of light
that taught me
longing is more creative
than fulfillment
and the nightbird
on its broken branch alone
sings like a wine closer to home
than all the daylight choirs
of happier wings in the vineyard
that inspires the liars into blossoming
like loveletters on the wind
they don't know where to send.
So I tell them without believing
they know what I'm talking about
to take a page out of the orchard's book like I do
and when spring's in the air
send them everywhere.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~Dance The Spirit Of Joy~
Dance the spirit of joy as the seasons come and go quickly. All that is in this moment is sure to be some thing so different the next. Welcome it.
Dance the spirit of joy for there is never a time life should not be celebrated. Give thanks.
Dance the spirit of joy as the season of youth comes and move out hastily waiting only in the mind of a fool. Call forth Wisdom.
Dance the spirit of joy when you look back to see that your crawling was needed to strengthened you on your way to the top; but was never the bondage of your character.
Dance the spirit of joy and Fly. Yes, take flight.
Queen Violet'Bhana SatGuru-Bhakti
(Queen Bhana)
poem by Queen Violet'Bhana SatGuruBhakti
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Before the beginning and after the end
Before the beginning of time and space.
Before the onset of the human race.
He was there, The Triune One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Before photonic light began to sparkle.
Before the first sub atomic particle.
He was there, The Almighty One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Before the material universe began.
Before the footsteps of the first man.
He was there, The Omnipresent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
After all material things cease to be
and photonic light fades into history.
He will be there, The Omniscient One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
From everlasting to everlasting.
All things surpassing and outlasting
For He is The Omnipotent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Undevoted, Free, And Wild
Undevoted, free, and wild,
no one to answer to, no one to answer for,
the urns shattered, and the ashes scattered,
and the fire liberated to perfect its own combustion
and the stars without anyone to walk home,
and the solitude silent, dark, and deep, cool
as the bliss of a wine-cellar talking in its sleep,
I have grown mad in the heat of the purple sun.
I have spoken from the mouths of the caves in the desert
and not expected the echo of my own voice
to return to me like a pilgrim stashing a gnostic gospel
deep in the sand, without realizing
how much closer to the stars dirt is than I am.
When you're no one but the wind in disguise
you don' need to be humble, you don't need to wise,
nothing to trust, and no one to rely on,
you can watch the dead at night
streaming toward Orion
like a blue-white ribbon of light
undoing the gift wrappings off the bodies and eyes
of people who can see and be again.
And you know it comes to everyone
like a nebular orchid with a fragrance of stars,
that the Sahara will green and bloom again
and the wind sing hymns to the grass
and the gazelles sport their elegant legs,
adolescents in the spring brush,
running like violins succulent with beginnings,
and it doesn't matter you're alone out here
listening to the ashes of a mirage
make up legends to tell the fire
about its ancestors buried on the moon anonymously
and how their blood once stained the earth
like a scarlet letter even the stars couldn't wash off.
The mystic anti-hero of my own dragon myth
I exalt in my isolation like a shriek of revolution
and overthrow myself like a book in the flames
to keep something I don't understand alive in me
as if I had to keep on dying to sustain myself
and the distinction between one and the other were lost upon life.
It's a touch, it's a feel, it's a hole in veil
with one eye looking out at me to see
if I've intensified the dark enough to break into stars,
if I can unravel my heart like smoke like water like fire
and perfectly disappear into the atmosphere of my dispersal
without a shudder of farewell to the masks I wore like scales.
Not to be constrained by even so much as
the single thread of a straitjacket, the husk
of an abandoned sanctuary left to the imagination
of the hermetic flowers to do with as they wish.
I shriek freedom across the heavens like the death cry
of a hawk waking the valley up in the morning.
I whisper to the water things the wind was never meant to hear.
So faithful to my calling, I lead those who come, away from me,
as if it were the perennial custom of the universe
to meet like this for a moment in time and space
and then disperse into the darkness alone like a unlit candle.
I'm a riot of fools in the sublimity of the presence within me
that elates the crazy wisdom of my spontaneous ignitions
and schools the black lightning of its absence
in the folly of trying to enclose my spirit in gates
like a candle in the niche of a tempestuous vision.
Yeeeeeeessssss, I scream into the face of nothing
like the efoliant scripture of my confession and protest
that life doesn't need an alibi to live and die by,
no extraneous, no outer, no other, no object, no subject
no flying buttress to act as a bridge
over a flowing river of Gothic stone,
no strong tree standing on its own to cut down
and carve into a crutch, no cork to keep the ocean out,
no bucket to bail the moonlight out of the lifeboat,
no jade Buddha to make your supplications to,
no footprints on the water Jesus walked,
no cave in Ramadan to receive the angel of light,
no Kabbalah to baffle your way through the night,
no Schmidt-Cassegrain reflecting telescopes
on clock driven equatorial mounts geared to the heavens
to thread the golden needle of the mystery
without any knots in your spinal cord,
to penetrate the vulva of the sea like a sacred shell
that once gathered armies on a burning hillside
to contest their revelations with the tongues of swords.
I shall tell you, my brother, I shall hasten to you my sister
like moonlight through your window, I shall not
hold back from you the least shadow of the furthest star
releasing its dark wisdom like the black doves
of its own excruciating ashes glowing like the pain
of horrendous transformations into light.
I shall not bring you the skins of the dragons I've shed
but inspire you with a fire you've never been burned by before,
a spiritual immolation into a godhead without a metaphor
to guide you by, a torch you can't drown in your tears,
a long firewalk down to a river of stars,
and there you shall cross on a burning life raft
of the bones you've been carrying around for lightyears like a body.
And it's a heresy of silence to say, but there
you shall you shall lie down in the nocturnal emptiness
in the long blue seagrass of the moon
and empower out of your own creative abundance
whatever worlds your longing inspires you to embrace
to amuse the bright vacancy of eternity with time, like love,
and the dark abundance of unperishing potential
with space, like wisdom, and the clear light of the void
and the unspeakable absence of any other voice
to ruin the silence with the bliss and sorrow of seeking
the mystic night you found within you longing like a bird
for the stillness to write it like a lyric of the wind,
a passage of blood through the labyrinth of the heart,
a shadow against the moonrise of a compassionate awareness
there's a divinity that sings like a human
in the heart of everything that breaks its long fast of nothing
with praise and celebration, with fire and light and rain
with the firstt sacred syllables to touch the lips
of the black rose charred in the heart of the dragon, like poetry.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven Is 10 Zillion Light Years Away
They say that heaven is 10 zillion light years away
And just the pure at heart will walk her righteous streets someday
They say that heaven is 10 zillion light years away
But if there is a god, we need him now
Where is your god
Thats what my friends ask me
And I say its taken him so long
cause weve got so far to come...
Tell me people
Why cant they say that hate is 10 zillion light years away
Why cant the light of good shine gods love in every soul
Why must my color black make me a lesser man
I thought this world was made for every man
He loves us all, thats what my God tells me
And I say its taken him so long
cause weve got so far to come...
But in my heart I can feel it, yeah,
Feel his spirit wow oh woo...
Feel it, yeah, feel his spirit...
I... cant say that heaven is 10 zillion light years away
But if so let all be pure at heart
Just to walk her righteous streets I pray
Let gods love shine within to save our evil souls
For those who dont believe will never see the light
Where is my God - he lives inside of me
And I say its taken him so long
cause weve got so far to come...
No people, where is your god?
Inside please let him be
And I say its taken him so long
cause weve got so far to come...
But if you open your heart you can feel it yeah yeah
Feel his spirit, yeah
Feel it, feel his spirit, wow oh wow...
Feel it, you can feel his spirit
I opened my heart one morning and
I sho nuff could feel it yeah yeah
Feel his spirit yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
You can feel it, yeah, feel his spirit
You can feel it, yeah, feel his spirit
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End of Time
Wild breeze sighing cold
Looking a chance to enter this room
The rain tears dripping
Kissed on my windows
Oh what a sorrowful midnight
Today a bit different,
Room without moonlight
Silent, lame and dark
Withstand cold, surfaced on my skin
Hold my arm tight, keep warm inside
I wake up and staring outside
Everywhere just so dark
Only you, a candle
Stand bravely
On the side of this table
Shower the light in this space
Tonight only us, you and me
In the bright island middle of the dark sea
Together we stay tonight
As close as i can reach you
Feel the touch of your light
As far as your touch invading me
Send warm deeper, core of my body
As deeper as you now illuminating me
Straight to my soul, release your spirit in me
This silent night
Via the light, i listened all
Your spirit embracing my soul
Whispering deep precious words
About life, of you as for me
In age of your length, you burn it all
Sacrifice all you have till nothing left
Say you will bright the dark till end of life
Through the shaken windows,
The lost wind enter and flows
Flying in each corner
Wander all the edges
Come and meet you my candle
Sway your flames for a dance
Whispered in the soft moves
Seduction to surrender
To lose a guard of spirit
Convinced to live in cold ambiance
Dont trust! , you tell me as this life is not a trade
Said, 'Believing sweet lies made strength to fade
My heat is a spirit, in this light another form of it
I was made to bright not created to be wasted'
But we know sometimes it's hard to keep bright
And i saw you sometimes warmly cried
Drop down, Your tears flows
Drop down, another goes
It's not a shame, nor to loose
You told me, cry may dissolve a feeling
Let it down, these tears wax for better stand
Stronger base and the broken will mend
Only with a single flame,
Darkness lost by your light charm
Nothing you left before you warm
Remind me, In life, in the length of age
Flames yourself to brighten the road
As soon it be so clear to travel anywhere
Even make a dream emerged from nightmare
Those words, the touch
Your warmth, tucked me in a dream
Protect me from cold, the whole night
Till I lost you in the morning
You gone and forever leave me
But your spirit united in my soul
Released through your warm, by your light
For me to warm when it's cold, be bright when it's dark
Tomorrow could be beautiful as always
Somehow in a good day in a crowd
Leaving to spend a time alone far away
To feel and remember our last day
The moment you waxed all your words in me
Till the end of time,
The end of my breathe,
I wont give up on anything
As my life not a waste
As you said
: : : : : : : : : : : : : A Spirit to protect: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
The first poem from my 'Rise from the Ashes' project, i always feel like a child, to speak everything around and they replied me. I use many things around to learn about how they spending their life. For me there's always a reason to inspire our life, to heal brokenness, even to be better by looking around us, either dark or bright. A candle, alone can bright a part of room, and you alone can bright your own life..No one cant help if you cant trust yourself..As we keep our spirit alive, there's a door out for anything. Well like 'my friend, candle' said life not to waste.. Nothing is precious like you..uniquely you :) ..Thanks for reading this long poem :) :)
Cheers! ! ! _Unwritten Soul
2nd poem from my project: Desert Rose
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father, son, spirit
The father conceives his son
the son grows with his father
the spirit allows the heritage
Father, son, spirit. The father says sweet things to his son
the son is a rosebud to his father
the spirit remembers the instant of conception
Spirit, father, son. The father works, gladly
the son at school, learns much
the spirit, lovingly, joins them
Son, father, spirit The son makes his father, a good father
the union of father and son,
is the work of the spirit of love
Spirit, son, father.
poem by Teresa Gonzalez-Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Great Heart
Great heart
By: johnny clegg
1987
Travelling always increases the appetite for new music and I found johnny clegg tapes in the south of france and was immediately hooked on them. Im glad there are still younger artists who writ
Play their own songs that I wish I had written. this is one of them.
(chant)
The world is full of strange behavior
Every man has to be his own savior
I know I can make it on my own if I try
But Im searchin for a great heart to stand me by
Underneath the african sky
A great heart to stand me by
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
Theres a highway of stars across the heavens
Theres a whispering song of the wind in the grass
Theres a rolling thunder across the savannah
And a hope and a dream at the edge of the sky
And your life is the story of the wind
Your life is a story like the wind
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and keep me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (sometime)
(chant)
Chorus:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
To hold and stand me by
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Under african sky
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
I see the fire in your eyes
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
That beats my name inside
Sometimes I feel that you rarely know me (ah... sometimes)
Sometimes theres so much you can show me (ay yai... sometime)
Coda:
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
Im searching for the spirit of the great heart
Guk a mzimbo sala nhilziyo
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire Spirit
(gun club)
I can see clearly from my diamond eyes
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will accept all of me, so the fire will stop
And for the straights that got fire cars
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will take all of me, and the fire will stop
I will be cheating the whole ritual
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will accept all of me, and the fire will stop
Someone weird read: pen down a circle
Yeah, someone left on a burned out world
Someone knows Im dead as hell
Where the old north wind blows through southeast hell, yeah
And then john was betrayed by the machine
A proper circuit was a promise to me
Im going up to the mountain to see
How blessing will set me free, yeah
I had to do something
I was wearing down
I was going down
Why can no one ever touch a fire spirit?
Why can no one ever hold a fire spirit?
Why can no one ever feel a fire spirit?
I am going to the mountain
Yeah, I can see clearly from my diamond eyes
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
And no one will accept all of me, so the fire will stop
With too much patience and too much pain
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
To make amends for all of me, and the fire will stop
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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