Boney, stringent Lines that cross Steely gazes Minds of loss Pearls of wisdom Lined up, neat Beaten down With golden wheat Trusting no one “Who is there?” Fraught with misery Winds that scare Solace seeks us – Every – One – Yet turned away We look for Sun The rain will fall If only we’d …
Mindless galaxies triumph by Locking mechanisms, each in stride Leaving by the wayside, knock The pocks of craters, grateful stock. Sinking to my knees and then Putting bygones at the end Crass, brass, renegades pass, Not really listening to the grass. Meet me here, again and now, Meet me there within the bow.
My professional background is interior architecture. I’ve worked in the professional design community for almost 10 years now. Surprisingly, part of me loathes it… but an equal portion is enthralled. An oscillating love/hate relationship. But the design instinct is ingrained and natural and I will never get rid of it. Design and architecture in general is quite …
Breathing, misty, Into light Yearning for much more, Despite. Be here now, Walk the line Never straying Down the spine. Follow footsteps That you know They are there before you, In the snow. Do not question Your own heart For that was there Before the start.
I’ve been ruminating lately on the concept of ‘detachment.’ In the past, I’ve taken issue with this esoteric mandate that one needs to detach oneself from oneself and all worldly things and loved ones, as this is the only way to be enlightened. Or to see God. Or to ‘ascend’ or ‘transcend’ reality. Or the …
Starry folds Hands entwine Lightning burns Time unwinds Light years ahead - See the curves! Love the blisters Twinge-ing nerves Like a stone-man From the ground Like a pebble Echoing sound Dropped from my perch - Way up high - Falling, twisted Through the sky I know not where The falling goes But faith, have …
Are thought waves or thought ‘states’ like an onion that you peel, one layer after the other? Do we prefer one kind of thought wave over another? I find much of my time unwilling or unwanting to “downshift” my conscious thought into the mired details. If a game or a task requires strategy or logistic-style …
Glittering sparks, glistening time, Setting forth intention in rhyme. Falling suns and perfect moons, Sitting princes with harpoons. Hoping for the moment, ripe Seeking hardship, writing type. Fortunes wait in stiller tides, Myriad minds are making strides. Tied to the sun rays, moon beams, stars, Traveling space to far flung scars. Shooting back – arms …
Words are always following me. They hang above, trailing me wherever I go. Constantly composing, re-forming, re-stating. Once I have a moment of peace or silence, they flood me like the deluge…. An onslaught of compositions, essays, poetry, and random statements. I am used to this constant internal narrative. It’s been there for me all …
As above, so below. * The other night, I thought of this phrase and imagined a giant inverse pyramid on top of the great pyramid at Giza. Like that of a mirror. An invisible inverse that only the soul may see, as the soul is the same aspect of the physical body, but inverse. The …
Amie Zor 