beyond action
their spirit, freed,
roamed without movement
in freedom
through the world
whispering
of rest,
of freedom,
of words,
of silence
singing, singing
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” My mother told me
play with the gipsiesdown in the wood…but she didn’t tell mewhy not, alas…so‘shouldn’t…’turned to ‘should..’ –now I’m wiser,but I’m pregnant..guess I got thatroamin’ blood…”
There are times when
sent no doubt in good faith,the banal cliche of a worn truismexpressed in groansome verseopens one eye,yawns,stretches,gathers itselfwearilylike its alarm just went offand it’s time for workand lands you onehard, right on the noseouchI think it’s calledhumility
Oh it’s so easy to say –
You feel unloved? Then give love, and love, and love…’…On the other hand –Do you have any better advice?
no, it’s beyond words.
if you need,death loss tears grief gone everit’s beyond all thesetake them hold thempress them tear themsqueeze from themthe tears of thingstears at the heart of thingssqueeze this pure pure liquidfrom these from life itselfso pure it’s namelessso pure it’s the beingof your being,the truth of truth,the beauty, of all the sadnessthat ever,so pure, so…
All those ‘Sixties hippies
hope they ain’t forgottenlife is just a wow (..man) …
Like a set of graded kitchen pans
back from school, file into the tiny corner shop,and all so small, this neat, obedient, clean set,that no-one needed lift the counter flap.And in a moment’s flash of truth, or sentiment,I saw the beauty of the human race.