Cosmos is breathing through you Mass consciousness is shifting through you It envelops Blue Planet Growing, glowing, glorifying My aura overlaps yours…swirls And explodes into a million guitar notes A shift into transparency See the masses holding lilies Ferns of lacy texture Energetic substances Spreading into each blade of grass Circles my country Every molecule shifts into the pale Rosiness of your flesh
“Idiots, Clowns and Jokers” are the best because they don’t care two hoots what anybody else thinks. They are the beginning of time, mostly living outside the Matrix. They play the important role of making peeps laugh, their apparent stupidity stimulates the mind, opens the heart, makes you want to play, which is the crucial ingredient of creativity. They are the rim of the circle. The end and beginning of all new things, the pupil of the eye, the best pupil of all teachers as well as the nightmare of teachers. Their electricity can be lightning or thunder or Dark or Light because they understand intuitively that these are the playtools of life.
The beauty that I carry within Loads me with Sunflowers and Violins I ooze it out in flimsy thoughts That make their way along the Byways of meeting rooms, car tyres and station shops My fingers too slow for the Spinning wheels of Grace Drinking strong coffee I melt down Images of musical notes Along stairways of life To float in an unspeakable Nothingness
After Silence, symbols appear, then sounds from the Heart, like animal sounds, then single Words, then Chants, then Songs, then Differentiation, then Intentions, then only Action in the Third Dimension. THIS is the sequence of Manifestion.
I AM WHO I AM A drop I dissolved into River of Life Braincells becoming numinous Spaces Sailing towards the Void Dropping ever deeper into Liquid’s Depth Van Gogh sky watched in longing Hills embraced my drowning Matrix fell away Stillness and song became One As did boundaries, Sky and River Poetry a pink shell on the Ocean floor ….I re-emerge Refreshed !
For decades I waited and you did not come To listen to my rude insertion When you withdrew in a split second To finger the sound at the back of my throat And the vibration of my name. For decades I wanted to meet a small mountain as I read her plain words in innocence A bell in her heart rang deep With children running sweet. For decades I longed to touch An ardency of a struggling moth As he ached for new wings Smooth ebony cheeks Passionate with eager Love. For decades I listened for A painter to mirror my songs Discover a talkative witch Who still trampled from place to place Her broken shoes echoing my silent breathe. For decades I wanted the ease of a smooth ride Where conversation was free of tasks And words on both sides of the brake of equal length With apricots hidden somewhere for the taking. So I upped my thumb to a quick glance of hope Though books were strewn about Space in a warehouse to be washed of shadows No wait in vain. ©2017 GhairoDanielsPoetry.
When we experience fear we are seeing the world as them and us. We live in judgement when we point at them, as if they are outside of us. We experience guilt when we compartmentalise humanity. Guilt hardens our muscles, creates knots in our minds. Practice seeing everything as a part of yourself, as ONE whole. As soon as we do this, disqualified emotions pass away. We feel free.
What is he without Grace A semblance of a liberation memory How long can Darkness hold the sway As night covers the day While shadows roam barren streets And notes like leaves blow across Victoria Falls Can age hold up the structures of a barren Land ? Can venom flow over open wounds… What strength is needed to bring on the Light One man’s blood cannot renew platelets so weak Farms await bony hands of want Land thirsty for full bodied Love One Party is better than one man Democracy waits in the shadows And backwaters of what Has rotted after the great big fight …. Memories of heroes written across the Zimbabwe Ruins Golden kingdoms remain in the Ethers Singing children cannot be silenced Their eyes knowing the Dance of Time… ©2017GhairoDanielsPoetry.
What is he without Grace A semblance of a liberation memory How long can Darkness hold the sway ? As night covers the Day While shadows roam barren streets And notes like leaves blow across Victoria Falls Can age hold up the structures of a land? Can venom flow over open wounds…. What strength is needed to bring in the Light ? One man’s blood cannot renew platelets so weak Farms await bony hands of want Land thirsty for fully bodied Love One party is better than one man Democracy waits in the shadows and backwaters of what Has rotted after the great big fight Memories of heroes written across the Zimbabwe Ruins Golden Kingdoms remain in the Ethers Singing children cannot be silenced Their eyes knowing the Dance of Time ©2017GhairoDanielPoetry.