100_3111
Originally uploaded by Shana Marie
Monochromatic glass
Capitalistic cathedrals
Lying inside
Inspired by "The Arch"
The Arch
Originally uploaded by Vesuviano - Nicola De Pisapia
Majestic beacon
Westward welcoming
To wide open sky
Inspired by "History in modern life"
History in modern life
Originally uploaded by yanni
Man's ancient treasure
Moving forward in time
From one imagination to the next
Love
This manifest of my life long before begun,
my soul speaking,
the purpose of its path
as here I sit tossed about in desperate confusion and confused desperation.
I cannot feel, so start to think my thoughts,
all that I have.
I think about this would of ours,
success in measures,
material matters,
a life half in the mirror as not see the whole, our selves.
I think about the ladder skyward climbing,
reaching through the clouds of the great unknown.
I think of getting,
gotten and gone,
of value based on the bias of impulse
and tomorrow’s worthless junk destined.
I think of the mass amassed,
the means meant
and the emptiness of it all in the end.
I think of the looking back and not seeing,
the looking forward and not knowing,
the looking within and not finding,
a scene played out on the stage of this existence,
so written,
so acted out,
of learned lines,
and parts performed,
of curtain calls that never come
and canned applause that never fades.
I think of the failure and woes,
the defeated aggressors,
the angered damaged,
the questions remaining,
the fault of who,
the intention of some.
I think of the roads untravelled,
the fields unfree,
the sky unabounding.
I think of the moments missed in the focus on future,
of regrets remembered because.
I think of crowds of empty,
of loneliness marching in echoes,
misunderstanding,
misunderstood,
misinformed of the simply mystery of it all.
Where are we all going?
What will we do when we get there?
WAIT!
Somehow, sometimes,
and especially the sometime of this right now,
I think that thinking will not lead me to most where I’m meant
and so abandoned,
I begin to feel the feeling of my soul awakening.
I feel the laughter of so simple a revolution,
the giddy gut twinge
rise up through my stomach
and reaching my chest,
growing warm
the blood of my soul rushing forth,
and pounding ever stronger within me.
I feel the smile become my face,
the joy of my lips,
and eyes joining in.
I feel the simple sight of sharing,
of faith in each and all of us.
I feel the give and the take and no longer tension between the two.
I feel the magic transcending knowings unknown
into being of beings.
I feel the words of every first
and every second so on,
the childlike freshness and awe of discovery.
I feel the honor of the minutes moving through ticking time.
I feel the fullness of breathing deeply,
the cool shadows of peace and calm,
my why becoming.
I feel the joining,
the coming together,
the interdependent meanings of life that each we are.
I feel the promise of people,
the greater than one.
I feel the doorway to dreams opening,
the horizons calling,
the eternal inviting.
I feel the search never ending,
yet ever mending and bending
and sending our selves on adventures of answers and treasures of truth.
I feel the funnel,
life drawing it down to simpler,
and simpler flowing,
into me,
truth,
feeling,
heart,
follow,
each now,
together,
passion,
purpose,
meaning,
love.
my soul speaking,
the purpose of its path
as here I sit tossed about in desperate confusion and confused desperation.
I cannot feel, so start to think my thoughts,
all that I have.
I think about this would of ours,
success in measures,
material matters,
a life half in the mirror as not see the whole, our selves.
I think about the ladder skyward climbing,
reaching through the clouds of the great unknown.
I think of getting,
gotten and gone,
of value based on the bias of impulse
and tomorrow’s worthless junk destined.
I think of the mass amassed,
the means meant
and the emptiness of it all in the end.
I think of the looking back and not seeing,
the looking forward and not knowing,
the looking within and not finding,
a scene played out on the stage of this existence,
so written,
so acted out,
of learned lines,
and parts performed,
of curtain calls that never come
and canned applause that never fades.
I think of the failure and woes,
the defeated aggressors,
the angered damaged,
the questions remaining,
the fault of who,
the intention of some.
I think of the roads untravelled,
the fields unfree,
the sky unabounding.
I think of the moments missed in the focus on future,
of regrets remembered because.
I think of crowds of empty,
of loneliness marching in echoes,
misunderstanding,
misunderstood,
misinformed of the simply mystery of it all.
Where are we all going?
What will we do when we get there?
WAIT!
Somehow, sometimes,
and especially the sometime of this right now,
I think that thinking will not lead me to most where I’m meant
and so abandoned,
I begin to feel the feeling of my soul awakening.
I feel the laughter of so simple a revolution,
the giddy gut twinge
rise up through my stomach
and reaching my chest,
growing warm
the blood of my soul rushing forth,
and pounding ever stronger within me.
I feel the smile become my face,
the joy of my lips,
and eyes joining in.
I feel the simple sight of sharing,
of faith in each and all of us.
I feel the give and the take and no longer tension between the two.
I feel the magic transcending knowings unknown
into being of beings.
I feel the words of every first
and every second so on,
the childlike freshness and awe of discovery.
I feel the honor of the minutes moving through ticking time.
I feel the fullness of breathing deeply,
the cool shadows of peace and calm,
my why becoming.
I feel the joining,
the coming together,
the interdependent meanings of life that each we are.
I feel the promise of people,
the greater than one.
I feel the doorway to dreams opening,
the horizons calling,
the eternal inviting.
I feel the search never ending,
yet ever mending and bending
and sending our selves on adventures of answers and treasures of truth.
I feel the funnel,
life drawing it down to simpler,
and simpler flowing,
into me,
truth,
feeling,
heart,
follow,
each now,
together,
passion,
purpose,
meaning,
love.
life is...
life is the peaceful calm of the midnight hour
as you lie half awake
in your bed
and smile at just the flickering thought
of the day gone by.
as you lie half awake
in your bed
and smile at just the flickering thought
of the day gone by.
their time will come
once again and again
the words rambling,
playful tykes within me crawling,
climbing,
walking through the corridors
of my mind –
they are youthful yet,
their time will come.
the words rambling,
playful tykes within me crawling,
climbing,
walking through the corridors
of my mind –
they are youthful yet,
their time will come.
romantic poet
romantic poet,
have you lost your muse,
or simply the musings of misery
and desperation so often
the human soul inspiring.
have you lost your muse,
or simply the musings of misery
and desperation so often
the human soul inspiring.
waiting for me
i can’t say as that,
as yet,
i understand the purpose of me,
but the words are there
somewhere,
waiting for me to find them
as yet,
i understand the purpose of me,
but the words are there
somewhere,
waiting for me to find them
fine line
the fine line distance drawn
between drinking from the fountain of youth
and drawing from the well of wisdom -
and though the artistry of age
often paints the grass a greener other side,
each will quench the soul for their time.
between drinking from the fountain of youth
and drawing from the well of wisdom -
and though the artistry of age
often paints the grass a greener other side,
each will quench the soul for their time.
the words reached through
strangle hold told the tale,
my tongue tied creative arms pinned behind me,
beneath me even.
i was unsure of
where the surface breaking be,
my breath holding,
turning blue,
the light of day dark,
when the words reach through to save me
my tongue tied creative arms pinned behind me,
beneath me even.
i was unsure of
where the surface breaking be,
my breath holding,
turning blue,
the light of day dark,
when the words reach through to save me
Inspired by "Isabella Rose"
Isabella Rose
Originally uploaded by Sunset Sailor
Harbors for rusty hearts
Left lonely alone
The refuse of regret
Inspired by "Southland in the Springtime"
Southland in the Springtime
Originally uploaded by mothernature
Sailing across a sea of bloom
Lost in aroma
Blinded by the innocence of beauty
Inspired by "Pyramid of Steel and Glass"
Pyramid of Steel and Glass
Originally uploaded by forgottenpittsburgh
Angry angles
Align the void
Metal shades of light
Inspired by "Fire Escape From Market Square"
A vertical accordian
A glow casting shadow spiders
Timeworn brick messages
How is it?
How is it I have all this wealth of words
and am yet too often poor to speak how I truly feel?
and am yet too often poor to speak how I truly feel?
All she needed
I watched her shed a tear,
I watched her cry a river,
I let her float away because I thought that she could swim.
I thought that she could swim
Because she had saved me from drowning so many times.
And only when the current pulled her under
Did I realize all she needed too.
I watched her cry a river,
I let her float away because I thought that she could swim.
I thought that she could swim
Because she had saved me from drowning so many times.
And only when the current pulled her under
Did I realize all she needed too.
Nothing is coincidence
When we close our eyes and look,
we start to notice the accidental blessings,
and circumstantial blunders,
the situational beings,
and purposeful doings that lead us and meet us
on every crossing path.
When we open our mind and feel,
we start to realize nothing is coincidence.
we start to notice the accidental blessings,
and circumstantial blunders,
the situational beings,
and purposeful doings that lead us and meet us
on every crossing path.
When we open our mind and feel,
we start to realize nothing is coincidence.
Such a possibility
Have you ever considered such a possibility, that everybody else, the entire population of this planet, the collective being of this global home, is here solely for the purpose of your journey? What if they're all just paper-mache scenery, majestic backdrops, hired extras, disposable props on the set of the stage of your life? What if they're all just street signs, roadside attractions, orange detours, one-night motels, stainless steel diners along the road of your life? Could you be the center of your own earth-bound universe? How would it change your perspective if you were? Then again, what if you're just here for their journey?
20
Will it matter 20 seconds from now,
when your salty tears reach your lips,
and you first taste the reality of this moment,
when your resounding screams of disbelief
must finally stop to take a breath,
when your dizzy senses begin to find their equilibrium?
Will it matter 20 minutes from now,
when your heaving chest finds its living rhythm,
when your rushing emotion, out of its necessity,
starts to tire and slow its pace,
when your veins stop pulsing angrily through the skin that protects them?
Will it matter 20 days from now,
when your conscience makes amends
with the stubborn will of your expectations,
when your objective side
seeks arbitration with your subjective side?
Will it matter 20 weeks from now,
when your recollection of the cause of this moment
fades into a shady grey area of details?
Will it matter 20 years from now, when,
what was the matter, anyhow?
when your salty tears reach your lips,
and you first taste the reality of this moment,
when your resounding screams of disbelief
must finally stop to take a breath,
when your dizzy senses begin to find their equilibrium?
Will it matter 20 minutes from now,
when your heaving chest finds its living rhythm,
when your rushing emotion, out of its necessity,
starts to tire and slow its pace,
when your veins stop pulsing angrily through the skin that protects them?
Will it matter 20 days from now,
when your conscience makes amends
with the stubborn will of your expectations,
when your objective side
seeks arbitration with your subjective side?
Will it matter 20 weeks from now,
when your recollection of the cause of this moment
fades into a shady grey area of details?
Will it matter 20 years from now, when,
what was the matter, anyhow?
Questions of Life
What if you had chosen the path that you didn't?
What would have happened to the path that you did?
What if the voice inside your head is only an echo?
What would others think if they heard it?
What if you're not really here?
Where are you, then, and what is here?
What if your entire life was already predetermined?
Would you want to go through with it?
What if you knew the place and time of your death?
Would you go there and then?
What if you never felt, heard, saw, tasted?
How would you miss the sensation?
What if you had nothing to lose?
Would you be afraid to risk everything you have?
What if you could never die?
Would you ever really live?
What would have happened to the path that you did?
What if the voice inside your head is only an echo?
What would others think if they heard it?
What if you're not really here?
Where are you, then, and what is here?
What if your entire life was already predetermined?
Would you want to go through with it?
What if you knew the place and time of your death?
Would you go there and then?
What if you never felt, heard, saw, tasted?
How would you miss the sensation?
What if you had nothing to lose?
Would you be afraid to risk everything you have?
What if you could never die?
Would you ever really live?
When will it matter?
What will they say about you when they see you approaching?
What will they say about you when they see you walking away?
What will they say about you when they take your place?
What will they say about you when they celebrate your life?
What will they say about you when they meet your children?
What will they say about you when you die?
When will it matter what they will say about you?
What will they say about you when they see you walking away?
What will they say about you when they take your place?
What will they say about you when they celebrate your life?
What will they say about you when they meet your children?
What will they say about you when you die?
When will it matter what they will say about you?
The mirror of life
What do you see in life all around you is that which is within you,
a magical mirror of your soul circumstance,
each nuance and nook,
each annoyance and attitude
projecting itself onto your experience entire.
So should you choose to see so you can see,
if you should look,
what it truly means to you,
to be you,
simply look at that before you in the mirror of life.
a magical mirror of your soul circumstance,
each nuance and nook,
each annoyance and attitude
projecting itself onto your experience entire.
So should you choose to see so you can see,
if you should look,
what it truly means to you,
to be you,
simply look at that before you in the mirror of life.
The meaning of every life
Lying there, face up to tearful eyes, and silent cries,
the mourning sound, and all around,
the pain of those you are leaving behind.
Soulthoughts whirl as your life plays back
in an instant blink of time.
Rising up, looking down
you realize the truth of your purpose,
the meaning of every life.
the mourning sound, and all around,
the pain of those you are leaving behind.
Soulthoughts whirl as your life plays back
in an instant blink of time.
Rising up, looking down
you realize the truth of your purpose,
the meaning of every life.
But we can never go back again.
We can remember, recall and reminisce.
We can make excuses, examples and explanation.
We can laugh about it, cry about it, smile about it and try to understand it.
But we can never go back again.
We can make excuses, examples and explanation.
We can laugh about it, cry about it, smile about it and try to understand it.
But we can never go back again.
What do you know?
What is it to truly KNOW someone...
To be on their inside,
live through their thoughts,
feel their pain,
cry their tears,
see through their eyes,
reach for their goals,
understand their fears,
deal with their failures,
struggle with their doubts,
share in their love,
celebrate their achievements,
appreciate their tastes,
follow in their footsteps.
The sum total of these alone leave us
at best hoping to know ourselves,
and family as strangers most familiar.
To be on their inside,
live through their thoughts,
feel their pain,
cry their tears,
see through their eyes,
reach for their goals,
understand their fears,
deal with their failures,
struggle with their doubts,
share in their love,
celebrate their achievements,
appreciate their tastes,
follow in their footsteps.
The sum total of these alone leave us
at best hoping to know ourselves,
and family as strangers most familiar.
It is time, what is it?
It's a distance measured,
a length of lesson,
a growth chart,
a slice of experience,
a testing ground,
a memory box,
a place marker,
a relative of our every position.
It is time, what is it?
a length of lesson,
a growth chart,
a slice of experience,
a testing ground,
a memory box,
a place marker,
a relative of our every position.
It is time, what is it?
The speed of this life
I just woke up this morning and looked out my window
to witness the rising of another day.
I stood there in awe as the sun raced across the sky
in an arch of golden-blue blur, without interruption, without conscience.
I just woke up this morning and opened my door
to feel the breeze upon my skin.
I stood there in silence as the crowd rushed by me
in a vapor-trail flash, without slowing, without noticing.
I just woke up this morning and laid back down to rest awhile from the speed of this life.
to witness the rising of another day.
I stood there in awe as the sun raced across the sky
in an arch of golden-blue blur, without interruption, without conscience.
I just woke up this morning and opened my door
to feel the breeze upon my skin.
I stood there in silence as the crowd rushed by me
in a vapor-trail flash, without slowing, without noticing.
I just woke up this morning and laid back down to rest awhile from the speed of this life.
As time is untrue...
Why does time speak these hours like words, the years forming sentences of a seeming truth, when my life's term is more often a momentary lie of constant changing?
And what for my understanding of this language with such a dialect of deceipt,
a forked tongue splitting the paths of my past and my future?
How real the signs read,
TIME passing, THEN is NOW, NOW was THEN,
and here I AM,
standing stopped forever at the crossroads,
searching the horizon for a landmark of truth and feeling time will not tell true.
And what for my understanding of this language with such a dialect of deceipt,
a forked tongue splitting the paths of my past and my future?
How real the signs read,
TIME passing, THEN is NOW, NOW was THEN,
and here I AM,
standing stopped forever at the crossroads,
searching the horizon for a landmark of truth and feeling time will not tell true.
What a difference of a day
What a difference of a day
When we will just allow,
Without the death of all the faith
That led us up to now.
What a change this passing speaks,
If we just listen to,
The truth of all it has to say,
Of all that time can do.
When we will just allow,
Without the death of all the faith
That led us up to now.
What a change this passing speaks,
If we just listen to,
The truth of all it has to say,
Of all that time can do.
This Lifetime Apart
This immaculate word conceived,
This still, tiny voice crying out,
This miracle of creation, creating,
Wondering,
Why,
How,
And where we might meet again.
This still, tiny voice crying out,
This miracle of creation, creating,
Wondering,
Why,
How,
And where we might meet again.
Dying, Learning
I was there, in the room, the dry stale rays of sunlight breaking through the threadbare shears, covering his draped and tired form, a crowd of familial strangers sharing in the silence of a soul-wrenching loss.
I saw their tear-streaked faces, felt the heaviness of their breath fall upon my damp clammy skin, my heart bleeding in a pool of collecting ache on the floor, my stomach sickening as I choked back emotion.
I watched his chest heave and fall, clinging to and letting go of life with every breath, I felt the spirit walking away.
I saw their tear-streaked faces, felt the heaviness of their breath fall upon my damp clammy skin, my heart bleeding in a pool of collecting ache on the floor, my stomach sickening as I choked back emotion.
I watched his chest heave and fall, clinging to and letting go of life with every breath, I felt the spirit walking away.
night magic
there’s magic in the late hours,
a returning to the dream from whence we came,
a remembering in the silence,
of truth,
of meaning,
of a world void of distance and time –
a returning to the dream from whence we came,
a remembering in the silence,
of truth,
of meaning,
of a world void of distance and time –
what beauty?
blank and empty,
early morning,
the fog still rolling about your head,
the canvas of the day before you –
what beauty will you make of it?
early morning,
the fog still rolling about your head,
the canvas of the day before you –
what beauty will you make of it?
Heartache
We climb mountains of hope,
trying to reach the pinnacle,
the realization of love,
of two become one.
We stretch our hearts to heights of promise,
waiting for the point,
the peak of love realized,
the first 'I Love You'.
And just at that sound,
just at that moment,
suddenly we find ourselves falling,
without a parachute,
without an idea of how steep,
or how deep or how long the feeling will last,
our soul praying for a soft landing.
trying to reach the pinnacle,
the realization of love,
of two become one.
We stretch our hearts to heights of promise,
waiting for the point,
the peak of love realized,
the first 'I Love You'.
And just at that sound,
just at that moment,
suddenly we find ourselves falling,
without a parachute,
without an idea of how steep,
or how deep or how long the feeling will last,
our soul praying for a soft landing.
Abuse
Held like a dagger’s point
Careful not to prick,
Ready to drop at the slightest twinge of pain,
The memory dangerous and daring.
If I look deep enough into the comfort
Of the blade’s polished reflection,
I can almost feel the warmth of the sunshine
Reaching out to me.
The desert of my history is barren,
The mirage on the horizon of my thinking
Seems a scorching recollection unbearable.
I wander, I search for love to quench my thirst, to cool this burning heart.
There is no one out here, I am all alone.
Careful not to prick,
Ready to drop at the slightest twinge of pain,
The memory dangerous and daring.
If I look deep enough into the comfort
Of the blade’s polished reflection,
I can almost feel the warmth of the sunshine
Reaching out to me.
The desert of my history is barren,
The mirage on the horizon of my thinking
Seems a scorching recollection unbearable.
I wander, I search for love to quench my thirst, to cool this burning heart.
There is no one out here, I am all alone.
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