Can you hear the bells?
Soft sweet calling from the lips of the fallen
The tonic of your Heart meets the embers of this ring
Of fire and ice through which you may climb
To life through your shadow
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that bear the weight of soldiers
the spines of the abused
pointing down to the earth from which they came
that enfold the treasures of many households and
civilisations wisdom that is at once here and lost
that contain the dead…
for a while.
When the day breaks and the sun smiles its rest
Do we live among Hills
or pointed mounds
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Image by Quang Nguyen Vinh
Smiles of rhapsody
Known by the passing through
Moving through the gloom
like Icarus in the fog
lost of his destination
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Image by Jaymantri
What am I?
The face in the mirror
Yes, I’m me, the body,
But I watch the body.
I watch fingers tapping at the keyboard
I make them move
They belong to me
I can see thoughts too,
They create swirls of feelings like ice cream cones
Trains move through the station of this head that I can feel and I’m the only passenger on the platform.
So I’m the passenger and there’s no one around when I really look. When I look from Me,
This floating eye moving through the landscape of dimensions that I once knew and that I could one day come to
Possibly I’m just depressed and longing for the answer to the questions that could serve me to my sustenance
but I believe in curiosity and the fruits of persistence
When falling from the path of the heart, I throw a line and hope it finds it’s destination
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Photography by Rafael Guajardo
Never did I believe in love at first sight til I met her,
The floor fell from underneath my throat and my eyes saw only flowers
The remnants that I keep of that night are the chips of my past that were never washed in the tight lips that spoke a thousand truths in an instant [without saying anything] and in a daze were gone
And we walked for morning coffee along the tree strewn path and the leaves and the sunlight danced like the cistine chapel in our wake
She held my hand and led me to a dark corner to whisper in my ear. She told me about love and I didn’t believe her until she was gone.
The next day was grey from the night before. Reason tasted like cookies from school; raisins; off.
I felt like a lake in the moon light, left only with the still reflection of what could have been had I been quite right in the head.
Yet the unknowing is the loudest silence
the roaring thunder of torment that lingers on the lips of the assailed – nothing.
Sometimes all you need is a cup of tea
The British ‘drink the blues away’
The steamy hug of a face-mug
Choruses of warm hands and warm bellies in the morning
Sometimes a cup of tea makes everything okay
(Or at least a little tiny bit maybe slightly better possibly)
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