The quality here is certainly very high. Kudos to all poesters!! Here is a long segment from a trip report of mine, that is really more of a long poetic meditation while under the influence (mushrooms & cactus, both low dose), that skates from wordplay to stream of consciousness to rhyme and right back through free-form to settle as dust on the page:
I saw winged wisps and vapourous visages somervaulting from irridescent tendril to thin cottony spiral…
Ahh what peace there can be!! What utter calm and transcendent absence, inhabiting my being and singing the silent song of endlessness :::
O There, the OTher…
But of course, it ended; the chatter resumed, albeit quieted like a child reprimanded. And I stood. And reminded myself :
Don’t forget to connect the DISCONNECT.
Standing staring through the trees at the lake beyond, I realize :
The moment the lake ceases to be a LAKE and the trees TREES, in this moment there is meaning. We need to strip away all the boxes and parcels, move house, MOVE EM OUT DA WAY, discard the meaning we attribute to arrive at a truly meaningful moment. And then, of course, move back into the emptied house.
.KNOW the LEDGE-0
._Ledge;_1
._Know_1
.__It, see__2
.___It, teeter ___3
._____At It’s edge, but know_____5
.________We shall go no further until ________8
._____________ it’s TIME to go where the ledge leads, past the know to BE_____________13
And then I went back to the gallery that circles my chalet, and all of the FOLLOWING poured/poored/pored/pureed out of me :
The silence is Replete
Turgid
BURSTING
fullof the unheard
And who wants to hear the heard?
Who wants the herd to here?
Who wants the air houred?
Live your own time
Make your own silence
And have it heard
All here-ing beg ins wit thin,
So thin the wit to beg within
And the here-ing within shall bellow out,
And speak loudest.
And when it speaks,
Done knot forge-get two con-necked thud is co-necked
Only in solitude is the plenty
Appreciated
WEIGHED
Understood
APPREHENDED
I stood under my comprehension in the solitude of the plentiful.
When words fail, fail words
We are words, but words are the we that must be abandoned to find the US
STROLL, LAUGH. Words, fail. Fail words. Sdrowl laif.
I am the mirror that absorbs.
I am a wave that was a particle that waved, way-ved part-I-call the soul.
THE PARTICLE MYSELF :
The part I call mice-elf is not the sole way-ve,
Until I need to call it a part.
And then I wave, and I am no longer a part
I call a wave.
I am I. Maya. Ayam Maya. Both and neither.
Hello, place to meetcha
Place to me to you
PLAYS TOMB EAT YA.
I am the order in N-trapeze
The chaos in N-shall be
The entropy in Awe-rder
& the enthalpy in Key-us
I am gravity
I am loss
I am light
I am US.
I am merely a word in a mind that knows not itself.
I am divine,
I am a part of divinity
Eden Ive had a trap ‘o maya,
Ayam o’ part a dahevenede
I AM A PART OF DIVINITY
Imagine the space between the source and the echo. That is me. That is where we all reside.
I am the beat between rhythm and arhythmia,
Search for me between sounds, between moments, between tocks in the silent room.
Bet we e’en; Even, we bet.
:::::::: ::::::::
There is a man on a dock. I see him from my vantage on the dock.
Is he there to take flight or to rest? Leaving or arriving?
He is joined by another.
A pair of docks.
Oh. You thought I meant another man. (what you meant and what you (thought I) meant)
No he was joined by a pair of docks.
One his body. One his mind.
One arriving, one leaving behind.
A paradox.
How pull awe-ful!
p-law foul
Pllafl
Playful
Foul play
Hear not with these ears, for they are flaweD,
Here not with these I’s, for they obscure(d)
Hair not with these fingers, for broken they be,
Higher only with the mind that is still
And the you that is ME
That is still
The mind
Till still’s till ‘n the mined no more
The mined is not aS and, but as Ore.
The’yre’s all waves chawyce in Ores
Wherea S and slips twixt the finn-gores.
Language is the tongue that laps at my mind. And while delectable, tis the savour that dissimulates the simulation.
When I dull the clatter around, for a brief moment, I hear the mechanism of the universe. I apprehend its silence.
VOLUMINOUS.
Poetry is the efficacious employment of words to express & access the divine. There is no 3rd person in poetry. Poetry is I.
POW! A TREE!!
Pow a tree is eye.
POW! A TREE EYE SEE!!
If EYE am divine and employ myself efficaciously, I shall reside in poetry. Poetry is the wealth in poverty of words; less is more; the min is max, the cosmos a grain of sand, the universe a mind.
I am no more than these words.
Nor. Are. You.
You. Are. Poetry.
:::::::: ::::::::
I spend my days lost in a cloud of filth; lift the filth and enjoy the noise, for the choice for noise is an acknowledgment of silence, an admitting of the still that moves. And it moves through you, electric and vapourous.
Always remember that all (ways you remember) and ALL that you remember is nothing when stacked against ALL that has been forgotten.
Amidst the shouts and tears and laughter
And all the multifarious cries of life
I hear a voice that whispers love and strife
And wails the slippery and adamantine truth :
That whether by decay or accident or rage or noose
Where I was before, this is where I shall go after……….
ENJOY. EVERY. BRIEF. MOMENT. OF. YOUR. EXISTENCE. AS. IT. PASSES. FROM. THE. FUTURE. THROUGH. YOU. AND. BEYOND. MEMORY.
Do not miss the time to dance, for once missed it dances on without and within.
JBArk is a Mandelthought; a non-fiction character in a drama of his own design he calls "LIFE" who partakes in consciousness expanding activities and substances; he should in no way be confused with SWIM, who is an eminently data-mineable and prolific character who has somehow convinced himself the target he wears on his forehead is actually a shield.