Poetry Blogs (2013, Purpose)

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Rose Colored Reality

entry picture

Too much reality 
can burn a hole
through your soul.

I prefer to temper it
with rose colored glasses,
as you know.

With my glasses on
I can see past the ego
to the wounds at
war within.

I can see that the
past, present, and
future are all 
an illusion...

created for one purpose

to tell the story
of how we want to 
show up in this world. 

I can see beyond 
resistance,...

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despairdestinydivisionegofatefuturelifelovepastpresentpurposerealityresistancerose colored glassesrosessoulstorystorytelling

A New Riddle of Cosmology

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An explosion beyond comprehension sent all

The ingredients of the cosmos careening through the void.

Light, matter, and energy diffused chaotically,

Taking billions of years (as we now know them)

To fall into some kind of order, to establish

Some vaguely predictable interactions of

Cosmic proportion. Somehow, trillions of

Particles began to cooperate to form

Molecules of ca...

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cosmologymeaningpoempoetrypurposetelos

What Does It All Mean?

Live life today,
Like there's no tomorrow,
So forget about the pain,
And embrace the sorrow,
Life is a struggle,
That we all go through,
Searching for deeper meaning,
And contemplating whats true,
Beauty and complexity,
A trip through the divine,
It can't be mere coincidence,
It was done by design,
At first we are taught this is it,
The material is all that's there,
Then what is my p...

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DeathLifeMeaningPurposeSpiritualityTrauma

Retrospective

This piece comes from an exhibition of the work of celebrated Australian artist and sculptor Brett Whiteley. Parts of his enormous masterwork "Alchemy" can be found on the cover artwork of Dire Straits' album of the same name. A long-term drug user, he died in 1992 from a heroin overdose.

 

Retrospective

A metaphor for clear technique,

the Gallery (patrolled, secure,

well-scrubbed, ...

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Let Not Distraction Keep You!

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Let not distraction keep you!

 

When The Drama of the perfume Fades

The Tossing Tousled hair parades

Settle in a lazy muse and the moon no longer lingers,

 

When the mystery seems tired as the night turns day,

The conversation feels hired as the wine wears away,

 

When reality strings together like a cellists’ tune,

Awaking your longing for a richer room

Be the see...

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alcoholdistractiondreamsdrugsfulfillmentPurposewaited lives

Grief?

How do we measure

emotional proximities,

and then honestly display them

for all to see?

 

In conversation?

in a meeting of minds?

in physical contact?

intimacy?

through our shared children?

 

When competing in grief

so publicly

how is it measured

and what are the prizes for best performance?

 

Are they purely self awarded,

is anybody really watchi...

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Griefpurposesincerity

Common or Garden

entry picture

In this husk 

I know not what I am,

where I am

the purpose,

or plan.

 

Under this weight

how deep am I?

which way to grow?

 

Yet,

my shell splits

and something within stirs,

pressing weight is pushed aside

the soil is broken.

 

Beneath, 

roots growing.

there’ll be no control over them,

they burrow to somewhere unknowing,

from where all el...

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lifeneedPurpose

Empty box

Life unravels like jazz

in moments before there is complete clarity,

there-after, chaos.

 

Revelation

is wrapped in the seekers journey,

once open

its purpose was clear.

 

  

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futilitypurpose

A Noun in White Open Space

A noun all alone in the white open space is at risk,

if it doesn't know its own definition or purpose.

Without knowing its identity, this noun may search for a verb.

Once it finds this verb, it may begin to become active.

After it is active, it may come to dwell upon passive.

Should this be the case, it may call itself just a subordinate clause.

Still without the sense of cause, ...

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decisions makingidentitynoun in white open spacepurposeself discoveryself reflectionself-esteem

Purpose

She, born of the forge and cast from the pyre,
The fire of her birth soon vanished to iron,
Cold and lifeless, but still with a purpose
And then, from the worthless womb of coals
She falls.

Her sisters, countless in their tumble
Collide and stumble to the four corners
Of the earth.  Rapidly consumed
Exhumed for a thousand years
Or perhaps two…

Here she, in the wood of the pu...

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creationdeathinnocentpoempunishmentPurpose

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