The stream (all workshops)
To the left of kathmandu
sat a man bereft one shoe,
was one sandal shod
so he said to God
"oh Lord this just won't do,
I've holed my soul
and my begging bowl
has up n now gone missin,
and it's my mishap
that I've trod in crap,
and I've got no pot
to piss in".
Obadiah.
Maybe, just maybe
movement,
space and
matter
rolled up in a little ball
are tucked away,
in a corner of the multiverse
Left alone to find
thier own unique expression
As they grow into conciousness
And are displayed in thier innocence
As children of thier higher power!
Maybe,
movement,
space and
matter
rolled up in a tiny ball
are tucked away,
in a corner of the universe
Left in pools of
pure intelligence
free to choose,
what they'll become!
Maybe, just maybe
movement,
space and
matter
rolled up in a little ball
are tucked away,
in a corner of the multiverse
Left alone to find
thier own unique expression
As they grow into conciousness
And are displayed in thier innocence
As children of thier higher power!
If I could wish upon a star
I wouldn't use that wish for me
though I'm hurting and in need
I wouldn't use that wish to flee
I would fly up to that bright north star
and sit upon its great big lap
I would tell it that I came afar
with one wish upon my lips
My wish isn't little and won't be easy
it will be hard to grant and might not come true
this wish I have kept in the pocket of my heart
for years and now I'll tell it to you
In the digital world I seek validation,
Please visit my page, send prayers and salvation.
Propose cures to solve my problems, conjured from thin air,
If your reply isn’t lightspeed, will I notice you’re not there?
Okay, maybe I jumped in fast, is it really a surprise?
When I gaze all day at my screen, my avarice veiled as disguise.
My followers, need input, to make me feel defined.
Desire and admire me, pen your words here to humankind.
I didn't earn it at first.
Love was like wind.
I could sense it all around her,
but I could not see any use for it.
Still, with patience, we walked
in tall stands of trees together.
Ones that had been there for so long,
red-barked and towering with wisdom.
The branches quivered and stirred
as we passed their anchored homes.
Murmurs perhaps, of their discontent with me.
I reached out to feel the deep crevices
furrowed in the rough and weathered bark.
Counsel, it seemed, for a fool.
They sailed the misty, moonlit streams
where you breathed lines of honeydew,
to steal you from your isle of dreams
where Aphrodite cared for you.
(Your beauty-breathing ways so wild
wove words of wonder from your youth,
which softly spoke and sweetly smiled
to those who sought for sacred truth.)
Toward the coast they hurried you
to exile, ‘cross the sea beyond.
A kiss for friends, love’s brief adieu;
with tender tears they did respond.
What do you truly want?
The question so simple
Yet so difficult
“I want money!”
“I want a car!”
“I want to be famous!”
Others answer with ease.
But those all feel so greedy.
So vain.
I know what I want.
It’s what I have always wanted
But I don’t want to say it aloud
I fear I may sound cruel.
A happy family.
I say it slowly and quietly.
Sure it isn’t money,
Or cars,
Or fame.
But it would be worth all of that.
All of that multiplied by infinity
Such a simple question.
A Penny for a Poppy
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson
An old man wakes up tired
He has nightmares instead of dreams
He feels the age-old aches and pains
Like he was 21 again
He keeps his hair to army standards
There are some habits you don’t forget
He presses his uniform just right
And pins medals to his chest
He sets up the box full of red flowers
And sits down to wait
For someone who remembers
The sacrifice he made
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