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 Jul 2016 Seeker
SøułSurvivør
---<¤>---

where's
the eye myopic?
where's the eye that weeps?
where is the heart that spendeth
long 'fore it will recieve?

all you see is glitter
zirconium... fool's gold
you spend your life acquiring
and soon your soul is sold

all your plans are wasted
they unravel and unwind
as the eye atop the pyramid

the golden eye is blind


soulsurvivor
4/5/2015


---<¤>---
 Jul 2016 Seeker
Sjr1000
I don't know what I'm doing
I don't know what I'm feeling
I don't know where I'm going
I don't know who I'm being
I'm overwhelmed,
frustrated,
I can't cope

These are the slogans
I repeat to myself
Over and over again

Oh yeah

I'm a failure too
I've lived this life
What did I do?
What do I have to
show for it?

These facts about myself
are the one thing
I'm very positive about.

I repeat these slogans
day in and day out
always wondering
what I'm so
depressed about

I bury my head in these sands

Suffocating
Smothering
choking on anxiety
in my own
advertising slogans
on my private airwaves

To complicate
matters
worse
just because we think something
doesn't make it true
that goes for
self worth too.

But

Mindfulness
stands
watching the passing cars
from a freeway overpass
like our racing thoughts
not holding on
not making them go away,
in peace
simply
letting them
be.
States of mind are transitory, come and go.
 Jul 2016 Seeker
Sjr1000
I'm wearing one now
the noose is tightening

Problems that won't get resolved

You know the ones I mean

The refrigerator died
The roof is leaking

Everyone in the house
has a
Virus
Including the computer

The boss hasn't taken
a vacation or a shower
for
four or five years

True love that ain't comin'
and
bank accounts they go to zero

All problems, they say are time limited
But when in the midst of an albatross
the grinding wheels of time
come to a standstill in your mind

Anxiety Apprehension
late into the night

But you know
we know
the albatross
goes away or is forgotten

when it's on the scene, though  
life is just plain mean.
Fortunately this not autobiographical, at least not at this moment
 Jul 2016 Seeker
SøułSurvivør
I
push
at my wall
expand into the
far corners of total
conciousness yet there
are four dimensions to bind
and five senses to contend with
therefore I'm compressed in
the shape of enlongated
boxes turned onto
their corner tip
and discover
the shape
of


DIAMONDS


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/2/2016
I read the work of another poet to have the similar idea. I don't recall who it was. It is not my purpose to plagiarize. But I have this idea that we all can be extended only so far before we are compressed again. But is that not how sparkling diamonds are made? Carbon heated 2 expansion then compressed in the Earth. Something to ponder anyway...

.
 Jul 2016 Seeker
spysgrandson
anonymous winds
bend tall Timothy grasses,
wake rabbits napping
in the brush

they ripple the surface
of the stock tanks, tickle the haunches
of the beasts who wade there
to slurp the tepid waters

they birth red dust devils
for my eyes to follow, as they scud
through mesquite, and hopscotch over canyons
older than time

one day, soon, they will blow
over a shallow earth bed; I will not hear
their sibilant song, but my sleep will be deep,
unperturbed by their mystic music
 Jul 2016 Seeker
D
Anxiety
 Jul 2016 Seeker
D
I didn't know I had
A N X I E T Y
I thought I was just weird
Now I see how much of me
It's destroyed over the years
I don't go out anymore
I'm always sick with fear
I didn't know I had
A N X I E T Y
Now it's all I hear
 Jul 2016 Seeker
Polar
He wasn't out of place

Just out of time

Playing for those long gone

And unseen

Clothes fluttering in a breeze gone by

Lips delivering music

Inaudible to the living

He wasn't out of place

Just out of time.
Today I went to Caernarfon Castle and was surprised to see a bagpipe player outside but when I looked back he had disappeared with no where to go.  Only when I got home did I discover that Welsh bagpipe players have been in existence since the fourth century.
 Jul 2016 Seeker
spysgrandson
the white coat lords,  
the army of nurses, the aides, didn't think
he understood their language

nor did they know
he had been a warrior in his homeland
and bore scars, inside, out

they paid little attention,
as he buffed lackadaisical linoleum, scrubbed porcelain *******,
making them ethereally white

though the amputees,
the hobbled, the battle burned, would wake
to the sound of his labors:

his broom swaying to and fro,
a softer metronome for their ringing ears
a cadence of condolences
for their beating hearts
 Jun 2016 Seeker
spysgrandson
a thousand miles we traveled to see
your jack-hammered giants--we arrived at dusk
just as the torrents began, bathing your
chiseled countenances

we hid in our chariot of modernity
wipers flapping in syncopated time, Bluetooth belching
out words from kin, "have a good time,"
"sorry for the storm..."  

but I wasn't, for lightning struck
a blackjack pine, and four mammoth men
came to life, their sheen now electric, their long
mute voices once again a resounding roar
On our summer travels, we will visit Rushmore--I have a premonition it will rain while we are there
 Jun 2016 Seeker
spysgrandson
I carried you
through a minefield, past ***** traps;
though the mortars lobbed their lethal loads
and the rifles spat speeding streams of death,
all was silent, until we reached the end of the field,
and I lay you on the grass

you thanked me, and asked me
to hold you--you were so cold, you said
I put my arms around you, and looked back
across the field--a stretch of fire now, blazing
the night sky, casting eternal light on you and me,
two young brothers I spied, prostrate,
still, on the other side of the field
we had crossed…still

on the other side
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