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Poetry Corner


A caution to those who venture near
the Hydra of poet, sage and seer:
you may lose your head, but do not fear,
for what you seek is never not here.

melanie's picture

So you want to be a writer

so you want to be a writer

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

– Bukowski

Chris L's picture

On Leaving the Valley

On the steep sides of the mountain
I climb across the hard sharp shards of stone.
Looking back from my vantage point
the valley lies lush and fuzzily warm in haze.
Villages and towns amid ripening fields.
Laughter drifting distantly on the breeze.
A far-off church bell.
From here I can see all the way to the sea.
I watch the clouds pass.
I turn, seeking a way higher
into colder, clearer atmosphere.
Now the valley is lost from sight.
Only distant mountains,
and the deepening sky.

Chris L's picture

wondering

it seems so obvious

that I and the world

are generated by sparks

flitting through neurons

an image

an illusion

nothing but mind

insubstantial

the appearance of existence

in non-existence

an elaborate dream world

built from imaginings

in emptiness

beyond meaninglessness

what's the point

of all this pointlessness

purpose unravels

as smoke on the breeze

dreams within dreams

with no waking

wondering what is this

opaque transparency

seeming to be

or not to be

wondering

why do I

and the world

still seem to exist

melanie's picture

A poem by Paul Virilio

"To invent something is to invent an accident.
To invent the ship is to invent the shipwreck; the space shuttle, the explosion.
And to invent the electronic superhighway or the Internet is to invent a major risk
which is not easily spotted because it does not produce fatalities like a shipwreck or a mid-air explosion.The information accident is, sadly, not very visible.
It is immaterial like the waves that carry information."

- Paul Virilio

melanie's picture

Going Home

'' He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He's nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he'll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep. ''

~ Wislawa Szymborska

Nondual Devotional Poetry

Tears of Grace is available on LuLu at the following link.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/rafael-stoneman/tears-of-grace/paperback/produc...

Your own voice is recognized as you read and realize that everything you see, hear, read is only occurring to YOU. The simple realization that there is 'no other' no observer or observed but only observation happening is instantly recognized when the separative dualistic mental tendency dissolves into Heart beingness.

Satprem33's picture

Paradise~

Paradise awaits you, it's already Here~
Patiently waiting for you to come near~

Nothing to seek, to know or to find~
Love is Now, not ahead or behind~

Don't sit and wonder at why your are here~
When what we should BE is ever so clear~

You will receive it by giving it away~
The secret's a circle, made whole today~

Satprem33's picture

Perhaps the Miracle is Now~!

Perhaps the answers to all of our deep, profound and seemingly Very important questions elude us because we are asking the wrong questions or even that we are asking, at all.

Perhaps the *secret* to our leading happy and purposeful lives is not in Doing or Becoming but in just Being, Trusting and Allowing.

Perhaps all of the seeking and wanting, looking and striving is Itself, the source of our discontentment.

Perhaps Just This, as it IS, in This Moment, however it manifests in this world of appearance is Exactly as it should be.

Perhaps the *child* in you remembers this, remembers that moment of wonderment when a feather floated softly down before your *open* eyes, when you beheld a miracle and didn't even ask why.

Perhaps This Moment contains the very same miracles, the same *open* eyes, the same wonderment, without asking or having to know why.....Just perhaps~<3

Satprem33's picture

No endless search in vain~

The continuity of a powerless play,
A subtle frequency which holds fear at bay.
A dazzling dance of moments begs me to stay.
A fire eternal illuminates the way.

Many dances through a myriad of moons,
A deathless season, vibrational monsoons.
A journey backward yet forward to the womb,
A silent calling to unearth a mental tomb.

Silence rises to consume a fortress strong,
falling forward into realms of endless song.
A hopeful heaven right here before the throng,
elusive moments to rest where we belong.

Nothing to conquer, no endless search in vain.
A seed of beauty born of bitter pain.
The death of reason, eternal life anew,
all of life mirrors heaven's home in you.

A taste of nothing fills the empty muse.
A mute perception unlocks uncharted hues.
A perfect footstep leads forward onto death.
A faltering fumble awakens your next breath.

Satprem33's picture

Saura Agni~ The Burning~

Cast all illusions of who you are into the eternal flames of who you Are~

Make no movement, neither forward or back to correct that which is whole~

Change Nothing and sit in the fire of your own perfection~

Can you burn here with me~

Stir the fire, my lover~

Become the blaze~