by Darryl Price
The world knows how to make you smile.
I'm certain, but it's your own unique
grin that they want for themselves.
It's always been their perfect prize
to horde. The trouble of course comes
from wanting something that only
exists in an illusory
moment like a fire on the sun.
Sure, it's there, it's just not something
to believe in. This doesn't mean
we can't get along together—it only
means we can't keep our hearts hidden
from the flying stars for too long. We
are ground up daily and sprinkled
in the winds of war and peace like
blown bits of leaves and bleeding flowers,
but it is truly okay. We make
a pretty interesting rain
(I'm told by the poets and avid
TV watchers). Thus I want
you to know something snappy about me. I
never ever wanted you to
feel anything but love, I just
didn't know all love is a kind
of sorrow, too. Now I do, but
like these cut down words, laughing at
me, my sleeves are much turned to blushing red,
and that tends to scare away the
less than human creatures of the
sleepy night forest. So I leave this
on this spot just for you. You'll know
it when you see it needs finding.
Bonus poem:
by Darryl Price
outside of yourself that isn't listed
inside of yourself. You can get there
a dozen different ways, but there's
only one true way back. And back
and forth is always best taken
as one definite moment in time. It
might not be the best motion
you make out of your latest move,
but it is the best way
to go, once that is you get
over your incessant need to label
things as being either up or down.
The truth is a new perspective
can create the sweet answer for you
if you let it—just don't
let it put you in a mint
box, you'll need your feet free
to walk upon the clouds if you
must before returning to the earth.
Some would say here, also if you
must, but that's just a snaky
way to make folks feel uncomfortable with
their own ability to float. There's
always going to be some smart-ass who
can't resist pulling the fire alarm.
Don't let it worry you. They are
creating a karmic path that will
eventually come to haunt them and fill
their dreams with horrible ghosts that
march in and out of their murky
fears like luminous gases. There is
no escape from the pain you cause
others. It will find you and
present itself back to you until you
accept the gift. That's the way
these things work. And they are working
continuously, but that's neither here nor
there. There is no world outside of
yourself because at some point all
the billions of stars swirl into one
statement of fact and blink out/
or in depending on your faith that
day. Again it doesn't matter. What
does matter is how well you receive
the wisdom of your going around
and around in the first place. Everything
is doing it, atoms, planets, Milky
Ways, oceans, eyeballs-you get the picture.
It's a question of how far
do we wish to see, down into
the depths of the dirt or
up into the vast network of dazzling
cosmic birthdays. Either way you'll see
the road beckons you. You
weren't meant to be satisfied with
just this—whatever this is. No, you
were meant to go exploring. You
were meant to have an adventure, and
you have precious little time to
do it all, unless you step outside
of the land of clocks. This
can be done of course, but it's
like surfing the big wave. There
is danger and excitement and a little
bit of the answer and you
might die trying, but you will be
thrilled and revealed and possibly given
more than you ever bargained for in
the process. As always it's about
your freedom of expression, your art of
being, your answer to the question
of now that will determine your fate.
7
favs |
1390 views
11 comments |
664 words
All rights reserved. |
Sometimes all I can do is say I was here and hope you'll somehow get the message when you need it the most. Here's to hoping that's true again and again.
This story has no tags.
A wise, sweet innocence. *
It's needed finding for a long time.*
This really hits the mark: <I>You'll know
it when you see it needs finding. </I> "*"
I like both poems. This is my favorite idea:
"You
weren't meant to be satisfied with
just this—whatever this is." No wonder I'm always so dissatisfied. *
Sweet.
Liked both of these, the sense of yearning and innocence. This especially, "but
like these cut down words, laughing at
me, my sleeves are much turned to red..."*
"...We/are ground up daily and sprinkled/in the winds of war and peace like/blown bits of leaves and bleeding flowers,/ but it is okay. We make/a pretty interesting rain." These are great. And a bonus poem, what a wonderful idea!*
Thanks, Folks!
Enjoyed.
Have I seen There is No World before? Like Beate, I like both of these a lot. Thanks, Darryl.
Yeah but I like to give a poem a second chance to speak up and be heard.Otherwise they go to sleep for a very long time. And that's sad to me.