heartbreak and cigarettes

Tag: poem

  • Serpents.

    Serpents.

    Don’t be fooled –
    the deceiver loves to be
    deceived.

    A mirror –
    feeding their ultimate
    reflection.

    You and I get what we want
    and they get what they
    deserve.

    For the rest of time
    slithering around on
    top of each other in
    the heat,
    hissing and writhing –

    convincing each other their
    songs sound as sweet as
    the birds high in the treetops and
    clouds, flying, soaring,

    while they’re confined
    to their own ignorance
    in dank baskets on
    solid, cold, ground,
    their imagined palaces sheltering
    them, hidden from the light, feeding
    on each other’s poison. Unable
    to recognize the soft, smoothness
    of a blooming flower, the
    masterful, shimmering cut
    of a clear diamond – the
    freshness of the Mediterranean
    in the springtime.

    No.
    They only see
    the mirror’s reflection:
    glassy eyes, flickering forked
    tongues and joker’s smiles
    spreading wide in demented contentment.

    “Serpents.” – bem

  • A world in flux.

    A world in flux.

    A world in flux
    is a world alive.
    Black Sea mixes with
    Red Sea.
    White sand burning
    Gold.
    Oceans blend into
    Oceans.
    Infinite Metamorphoses.

    Nature
    knows no separation.
    Seeds
    blown off trees
    over borders
    crossing
    continents,
    countries,
    city-states,
    counties.

    Mud to mudpies
    clay and clay
    to dust.

    Growth, death,
    re-growth, re-death,
    then back again
    360.

    You and I blend together
    the same.
    Matter turning to liquid,
    melting –
    like chocolate
    fondue
    – all flavors,
    better to dip the strawberries
    in and lick,
    savor,
    swallow –
    dissolve
    again and again.

    “A world in flux.” – bem

  • Changes.

    Changes.

    Somehow,
    we become an adult
    from an infant.

    In such an incremental way
    progressing from inches to
    feet.

    Our hair and eyes change,
    height,
    weight –

    And still we remain the same,
    our transformations keeping us whole.

    “Changes.” – bem

  • Patience.

    Patience.

    Planting seeds and watching them grow.
    Some burst forth from the rich, warm soil,
    some try,
    and others never reach the light.

    The gardener bends over
    in the afternoon heat,
    basking in the sun’s glow
    and focusing in unbroken
    concentration.

    Handfuls of seeds
    all in a row,
    freshly laid soil
    in neat little boxes,
    here and there.

    And then
    planting,
    packing,
    watering,
    waiting…

    “Patience.” – bem

  • A meditation on gratitude.

    A meditation on gratitude.

    Running in a grassy open field
    under the bright blue sky
    and blazing
    sun
    in the summertime,

    Laughing hysterically –
    so hard,
    my stomach muscles tense
    and sore,
    and I can barely
    gulp
    for air.

    The bliss of ecstasy
    in the middle of the night
    with another
    feeling, not thinking,
    drunk on emotions
    completely enraptured in the
    glow of candlelight,
    a dark, hot moment,
    entangled in someone else’s arms.

    Blissful amnesia,
    the state of just being.
    A return to childhood innocence
    and the fleeting gift
    of present-moment awareness.

    The wisdom of youth:
    entirely immersed with just being,
    no concept of past or future.
    Battling the folly of the old:
    constantly yearning and craving
    for what was,
    anticipating what will be.

    Gratitude hits me in those fleeting moments
    in the gaps between time and space
    where I forget
    yesterday and the days yet to come,
    when I experience the beautiful truth
    of what is right now.

    “A meditation on gratitude.” – bem

    Thank you and much love to you all for opening your hearts and minds to my little corner of the internet,
    and happy thanksgiving to anyone celebrating the holiday ❤

  • Illumination.

    Illumination.

    I open my eyes and I open
    my soul.

    My mind perceives
    far more depth
    than I can fathom.

    Through observation,
    I accumulate the wisdom
    of countless libraries,
    vaults,
    tombs.

    As long as I am breathing and
    seeing,
    I am learning.

    “Illumination.” – bem

  • The old schoolhouse.

    The old schoolhouse.

    They built the old schoolhouse
    at the top of the hill
    with the greenest grass
    facing East.

    They made the schoolhouse
    from red brick and limestone
    and those magnificent windows
    gleaming and tall, clear.

    The lawn was lush
    with verdant, crisp-smelling grass
    topped with neatly planted flowers
    and bushes and trees.
    A white stone fountain
    with water gushing from
    the earth and shooting upward.

    And with time came the ivy.
    Catching and grasping
    and pulling itself
    up the red brick and limestone
    toward the clear blue sky.

    September through May
    a hundred times over.
    Thousands of lessons
    and recesses
    and respites
    and running
    and whispering
    and screaming
    and thinking
    and speaking.

    The ivy climbed
    through it all,
    up toward the blue,
    never looking back.

    But oh! If it could only see
    how far it’s come
    from that dark, dank soil
    toward the cloudless sky.

    “The old schoolhouse.” – bem

  • The shift.

    The shift.

    Tied and untied
    sewn and unsewn.

    We learn to create
    and un-create.

    The value is in the
    doing and
    undoing.

    As long as there’s
    a shift,
    there is life.

  • Moving.

    Moving.

    In order to stay alive,
    we must keep moving.

    It is the utmost intention of each
    atom within ourselves
    to stay in motion.

    Even when I rest, I remain
    in motion.

    In order to stay alive,
    I must keep moving.

    “Moving.” – bem

  • The void.

    The void.

    The void created by what we don’t know
    precedes all intelligence.
    In order to make way for the gifts and blessings
    of what we learn and
    experience,
    there must first be an opening.

    “The void.” – bem