We split atoms To find God We map neurons To find consciousness yet we'd be silly to dissect words into letters To find meaning Perhaps the sum of it's parts creates a new whole Just as letters create words Just as words create new meanings Just as words together create sentences Just as the meaning... Continue Reading →
Poem a Way with Tools
Sacrifice for the thing you want, or what you want becomes the sacrifice. When a pebble or a boulder blocks the path,Do you give up your will?Or do you will up a way?Does the boulder and pebble become a part of the way?If there's a will, there's a wayThe moment you're no longer willing,Is the... Continue Reading →
The Word Dustsceawung
This post might be a little sad for some, so please be cautious. If you start, I hope to see you through the end, you star dust you. Dustsceawung (pronounced Dust-shai-wung) is an apparently an Old English word that describes a rather elusive and almost ineffable feeling, much like the French 'L' appel Du Vide' (Call... Continue Reading →
A short poem for the Abyss
Dig me,A Moat,of Nyquil,To Drown,my Waking moments. . .Cast my consciousness to the void-Oblivion This is a short poem of sleep and casting ourselves deep into the pitch black void of the abyss that we may often go to when we sleep. Some people never dream, some people never not dream. So this varies depending... Continue Reading →
Poem and Musings on Ancestral Spears
I just wanted to share a poem and a short essay and then go into a Ramble discussion, The Poem; Your parentshad parentsWho had parentsand that goes far backbefore the oldest written history your DNAis an archivewith each changefrom each lineageand each interaction Nations of the bornepeople have had a handin your DNAwhether through themor... Continue Reading →
Earth, Gaia, Mother Nature
We dub her she, as a goddess of the land.Thea in all her might, Earthenware and water.She has the blood of rivers flowing,River veins carry,The minerals flowing,Ore Veins Carry,The Energy flowing,Ley Lines Carry.The Earth Chakras spiraling,Shakti Shakti What then are Tornados,Hurricanes and Vortexes,If not a spiral of energy,a movement of flow. Where do these things... Continue Reading →
A short poem on Childhood
Kids Not knowing What flowers Smelled like Grew up To Be Sad Epilogue, Perhaps I am talking of outdoors and touching grass, or perhaps it's a metaphor for much more with the stitches and schisms of intergenerational traumas.
Dumpling Poems I
While I was on a flight to Oklahoma, I lost internet reception, and decided to be bored on my phone and wrote a poem. Technically it was four separate short poems, but I combined them all. I didn't expect them to see the light of day, so I'll just share here for those curious. I'll... Continue Reading →
Words Mean Things 