poetry

Moon whispers

Breezy, breathless whispers She speaks to you Rasping, her voice is in the wind Leaden overcast clouds scud Trodden ground wet like mud She asks ‘see, see me?’ Tho’ you look high and low There is no sign of her Raindrops splatter the pavement And damp is the rising scent The Moon is sheening silver Hanging low in leaden dark sky Reflecting the one true light But long are the lunar shadows Following us like the scudding clouds The monthly days slowly lengthen Tears of crystalline water droplets As She no longer has anything to say Ripples of a long gone era overwhelmed her Caught in the shadow of the Son The golden orb slowly sails its journey She rises at dawn reflecting all Like a mirror to all humanity

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Dancers

Lift up your head and look around Take the time to see the world Bit by bit. Open your eyes and really see Observe and focus your attention Byte by byte.   Is this world an illusion? Created in your mind Are you simply a delusion? That God left behind   Now close your eyes and listen hard Hear the sounds around you Bit by bit. There is cacophony in the silence If you have the ears to hear Byte by byte.   Am I the center of creation? Constantly creating Or just an aberration That God left waiting   Bit by bit Revelations Byte by byte Animations No answers No questions Only dancers Dancing on a stage Image: Degas Figure Study 5

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Blame It On The Papers

The newspapers are cruel Saying what they think might sell Sending better reputations to hell There’s no news like bad news To shift a few more papers, We can make it all up Give them what they want to hear Keep it juicy, Keep it rude and lewd No one cares that it isn’t true They believe it like the gospel right on cue

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The Stream of Life

Bobbing along the stream Sometimes fighting Other times alighting For a longer look Checking out scenery But no real choices Except to go with the flow I go where I need to go Can only slow The inevitable As I start at the beginning I must end at the end That’s the way it really is Life is like a stream Winding its lonely way Always just passing through Never sitting still Ripples speak to movement Movement is my destiny One day, I will reach the Sea And that, my friends Will be the end of me.  

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Touching the Emptiness

Touch the emptiness Stretching deepness Cooling depths Old memories Black and white Like old movies Funny feelings As if I could touch Touch the emptiness It’s on the edge As if momentarily Forgotten Was that my childhood? Was that really me? Stretching deeply To touch the emptiness Its’ dreamlike quality Chasing that thought Is there a reason? Am I all for naught? Touching the emptiness Building a soulful thirst Driving onwards ever wearily Towards the setting Sun Yet didn’t it just begin? Started in the sixties Images, floating illusions Touching the emptiness My father has already gone He prepares the place Wherever that is as he Touches the emptiness Birth, Death, emptiness Cyclic like the seasons I came from the emptiness And there I will return Reaching out, stretching On

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Fifty Shades of Food

Crispy tomato Ham smothered in bread Lettuce and raddish Give me some fried eggs Drizzle me something Make it sweet or sour Bacon sizzles in the pan Can you smell it? I bet you can   Creamy potato Luscious fried chicken thighs Onions and garlic Whip me up some cream Dazzle me in calories Make them hot or cold My cheesecake is rising fast Bring it on baby The die is cast   Cheesy toasties Sinful seasoning too A Cherry on top A sultry salty turnip to go Shoot me some ketchup Come and fry it up A saucy strudel explosion Deliciously rude And saucy emotion  

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The Visitor

It was some strange time in the morning So early it was still night and without sunlight The air was so cold and you could hear a pin drop I shivered involuntarily and tried to sleep But there it was again The deepest of sighs rattling like a death breath My blood ran cold I strained to listen hearing the loudness of total silence But there it was again A scraping rustling sound scratching along the hallway My heart palpitated At any moment now that door will begin to open At any moment now I will scream with all my lungs And there will be nothing there Nothing there at all And I will lay and pray That the morning sun rises soon illuminating my room And ensuring that my

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The Flame

I am but a small and fragile flame I flicker and seek to grow I think myself apart and Desire to grow much brighter To enflame the World The Truth is I am of the Fire I am simply a part of the whole Awareness is all I really desire I am the fire And I am of The Fire An aspect of the One From the book Astral Messages by Dr. G. Michael Vasey available on all Amazon sites.  

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The Power of a Song!

It’s just a song But it echoes of yesterday. Memories are triggered By a simple set of chords. Images floating on by Regrets or perhaps simply Happy cherished memories. The simple power of a song Was that a good time? If only I could go back there Meet people and go back to places Now long gone and passed by Perhaps meaningless at the time Taken in with that fleeting feeling Of immortality that only comes With the arrogance of our youth.

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Ambition

One of my ambitions is to sell a few books. OK, I have sold a few books already but not enough to match the ambition. No, I mean a few thousand of one book. The Last Observer, my first novel, probably is the leading candidate for that ambition at least until I can finish the one I am working on at the moment and get it out. The Last Observer has gotten a lot of good reviews but it hasn’t taken off like I had hoped. Check it out… it is a short read and a fast-paced adventure that along the way, will give you a lot to think about on the nature of reality. Join Stanley as he gets sucked into a world of black and white magic. It

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