Looking Through Different Windows – Intellectual Shaman

I’ve looked up at windows

and I’ve looked out of windows

my whole life.

And the world is colored by light.

the day dawns and the night speaks

while I lay in bed

listening…

I want to stop the seasons

prevent the world from turning

but reality won’t let me

and the loneliness of the years

moves forward

like aging laughter

dying slowly

I look through different windows now

and I don’t hear people

in the same way

horns honk

conversations are competitive

and not much is known

even if, a lot is said

the light is not bright

anymore

and I find ways of dealing

looking through different windows

at a world turning

no matter what I do

and even though history

has never changed it

I’m looking through windows still

hoping to find a way out

and when I do

I’ll climb on through

and I’ll stand there

still

where time stands still

and in the stillness

I’ll look through different windows

at a turning world

where I don’t turn.

online at: https://intellectualshaman.wordpress.com/

Bathroom Meltdowns – stoner on a roller coaster

https://stoneronarollercoaster.com/

Loneliness whispered to me
There’s nobody watching you
Nobody envying your smile
Nobody smiling at your tears
Nobody mocking your feelings
Not a single soul belittling your fears
So, breathe easy, hun
And it let it be
Loosen that knot in your throat
And set your grudges free
You can be mad, that’s okay
That boiling rage is weakening your heart
Punch something if you want to
Don’t let it burn you inside
I got dizzy and grabbed the sink
When my eyes brimmed and blurred my sight
My tears dragged weight out of me
Like a snake slithering out of its own skin
And I stood there, sobbing
A weightless shell of dry skin
Torrents of memories flowing into the sink
It just took a  whisper from my loneliness
To unbolt a storm of memories
That I concealed with chaos
From the courts of the world.

Copyright © 2020 stoneronarollercoaster – All rights reserved

online at: https://stoneronarollercoaster.com/

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Kindly visit my post Warriors Invited To Raise Mental Health Awareness where I am inviting Mental Health Warriors to submit their blog’s address so that we can join hands to control this wildfire.

To Get To You – House of Heart

In this dream my arms
are the branches of trees
and you are my nourishment.
Cut me down to a boat.
My spine is a sturdy keel
my hair a furl of sails in

the dark sky of uncertainty.

A lighthouse is my only lamp
the stars held captive in your hand.
If the sea does not capitulate
red sails cast into a cleft
too wide for me to cross,
I was trying to get to you.
Art from Getty

online at: https://houseofheartweb.wordpress.com/

what is quiet certainty like?

surely
life would be
easier
if i could
speak
without questioning my voice
think
without examining my thoughts
act
without wondering what
motivates
me…
everything i put forth
is subject to a three dimensional
inquisition
am i right
am i wrong
am i pacifying
am i blowing it all
out
of proportion…
ah.
to attack
without regret
without anxiety
without a second thought
to conquer
without
wondering
why.

in these stupid times we are in…my resorting to a very simple adjective for a complicated matter…i follow my heart, as always…listen to my instinct, as always…but cannot quiet the chatter of voices within….
as always….

online at: https://quixoticmama.com/

Millennia – Mitchell David Ring (The Light is On)

A stirring in primeval shadows

given out to dreams that fell from the sky

blind eyes know only the promise of light

and grasping in the shadows to find it

These are they who drink from the fountain of consciousness

who live and die and live again

watching millennia cross the skies above

this world spinning in death and pain and shadow

desperate only to escape the crying out

for some light to pierce through the night

and to walk where shadows do not fall

under a black sun that never sets

away on the edge of horizon’s downfall

out beyond the sea upon whose empty shores they stand

online at: https://thelightison.blog/

Chakra – G. Paul Randall (Starfish Sutra)

https://gpaulrandall.com/

The Wheel

Behold the wheel as motion incarnate. Inventor of the metaphor. Roundation is its pride, spokes the whispering of its ministers, its axle the secret grief. Turning until the grease dries up, then burning.

A mechanism, its gears a-turning. In thinking, wheels turning, turning. Spheres of influence, around, around. Circles have no need of ground. Sanskrit chakra has a sound like wheels knocking cobbled lanes. Strike and clap again, again. The arc, a portion of the round, its back is bent. It makes no sound.

The curve that sneaks in fluidly all paths and motions, blunts the angle, rounds the bend, transcribes the swing. It does its thing. It snugs the rim of hat and crown. Same as same when upside down! Once gone, just wait, it comes around.

Self, the center of conception, the spokes relate in rays the scenes. The never was but could have beens. What comes around, will go around, in startless parts, no stops or starts. It turns upon its secret grief. The axle happy in its grease. How does it make its way, by feel?

The ship, it has a steering wheel.

online at: https://gpaulrandall.com/

“conquering every dream under escaping collapse” —Shattered Mind

trapped beyond recognized collapsing rain

the stillness of encryption written in lost magazines

damaged colors in the rain scream from the illuminated screens in your eyes

saving souls with medicated half-lives against written frequencies

withstand the silence when people fall through processed skies

the turmoil burning through your face breaks a million faults of image

a charade of instinct breaking aging keys to heaven

whispers burning against amplified skin

a sense of distracted damage on the streets of ultraviolet streets without a collapsed mirror reflection

break through unheard risks of observed protested manipulations

kneeling against saving angels falling from broken photographs

conversations controlled by television screens

withdrawing from a trauma digging under chloroformed visions captured by a telescopic hue

a lost impact behind the aged paradise

windows that control the future of mankind

To finish the poem click Shattered Mind