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Broken Lines: Shadorma

BROKEN LINES

Here where the
Various varied
Versions of
Me hang out
Swung by to check whether these
Worn tear ducts still work

One Drifting Dream

ONE DRIFTING DREAM

Were not each drifting dream
Some hallucination or other or
For that matter – our today?

For do we not swim by we
So caught in our ocean of
Counterfeit conjectures?

Let us all then imagine
All of one another as if
As if imagined by us all

As they all imagine us
As if As if As if As if
As if As if As if

As if As if
As if

Familiar (with image)

FAMILIAR

A true bond
Is never broken
Birth to death
Life to life
Rooted in one another
Branches of one tree

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~

I came across this fine photograph on New Hampshire Garden Solutions‘ site and was moved to republish this shadorma accompanied (with his kind permission) by his photo. His site is one of my favourites, always full of both beauty and interest, and I highly recommend it.

Icy Isolation

ICY ISOLATION

An endured endurance
Amid a general bewailing
A mighty sweep then resweep
Ending up within time’s shackles
A past with shadows over the present
A present casting shadows over any future

Everything as the one tapestry … interwoven
The wise weaver will bear this fact in mind
So avoid the trap of uncaring isolation
Above, below … not above, beneath
Beneath a gist always so clear
A something left to give
Something to receive
(As in an I before E
Except after C)

Eh? is for questioning
Be! is for accumulating experience
See! is for understanding
… und so weiter
(E before I!!!!!)

A general bewailing (reprise)

So you can rock
You can roll
Be rocked
Be rolled
Beware of
Awarenesslessness
Avoid avoidance

Left unrequited
Blue and black
Energy medicine
Urgently required
Unadjusted defaults
Uninvited deflation
Stranded on one strange strand

Familiar: Shadorma

FAMILIAR

A true bond
Is never broken
Birth to death
Life to life
Rooted in one another
Branches of one tree

WhatsApp Addiction

WHATsAPP ADDICTION

Let us smile together then
As introvert to introvert
Observing all these others
Shake our heads in unison

Send forth wave on wave
Of compassion – if not quite
Waves of understanding
The latter being beyond us

Noting too that they saw fit
To castrate the apostrophe!!!
Arrogance? Guilty as charged
At least we’re working on it

What A To-do

WHAT A TO-DO

What a commotion
What a to-do! What a to-do!
We live while they die
They die while we live
What a commotion
What a to-do! What a to-do!

The past and the future
What a to-do! What a to-do!
List upon list upon list upon list
What a to-do! What a to-do!
Desires, revulsions
What a to-do! What a to-do!

Entrappedments
What a to-do! What a to-do!
Needful extraditions
What a to-do! What a to-do!
To not do may allow
A release

A releasing
A relaxing
As tomorrow
Dissolving
Leaves space
Where time was

Poetry n Motion

POETRY n MOTION

This planet we stand on
Hurtling through space
With its wobbly spin …
We’re almost oblivious

Enough so to proclaim
That we can stand still

We surrender to motion
Car, bus, plane or boat
Forgetting after a while
That we’re moving at all

Until some sudden jerk
Serves as if to remind us

The Family Piano

THE FAMILY PIANO

Upstairs
There’s an old piano
You don’t try to play now
Too far out of tune
Painful to the ear

Some of the keys
Have got chipped
Some, if struck, produce
No more than a soft clunk
Of wood against faded felt
Its note missing completely
No go-between connection
Between finger and string

You cannot use it
You cannot give it away
It is too broken
Beyond repair
You are too ashamed
To even let others see it
You hide it away in a back room
One where no one ever goes
Not even to dust any more

The First Stage Of The Journey

THE FIRST STAGE OF THE JOURNEY

I started with my head
And ran to the edge of the world
To see all and yet only learn
That I am crippled

Head in the clouds
Feet of clay
Dual natured
Jewel natured but half asleep

My mind is made up
So how can I tell what’s true?
My bed is made up
And I have no choice but to lie in it

Not knowing in the end
Whether I’m coming or going
When most probably
It’s neither here nor there anyway

As I follow the stars
Between discarded cards
Clutching the winning ticket
Only now that the lottery has gone bust

Dragging my feet, forgetting my head
Living my pain on borrowed time
Paying attention at whatever rate of interest I can still afford
In currency of amnesia and anaesthesia

It’s hard to talk
With a fog in your throat
It’s hard to be stereo
With one channel blocked

It’s hard to see
With your father in one eye
And your mother
In the other

When you are at war
It’s hard to be at peace
It’s hard to find the road
To be there all the time

To be here all the time
With you all around me
In these faces and places
To be compatible with you all

If you are compatible
You may be fitted for stereo
If in doubt consult your dealer
At least the head is a place to start

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