If I could be me
As much as a tree trees
How wonderful life could be
Nature exists in perfection. It becomes the verb of itself. A tree trees, air airs, earth earths, fire fires. They perfect what they are supposed to be. If we as individuals take ourselves as a verb and perfect the being that we are, then great heights we can reach and wonder of all ages we can see. If only we can commit to be the verb of our being.
There is no such thing as normal
Just acceptable and unacceptable levels of insanity
Who determines that is a mystery
We don’t know where we came from or where we are going. So could there actually be a thing called normal? Is the person who douses themself in drugs and alcohol normal because they can’t stand the insanity?
Or is the person who walks on and ignores the insanity in a sober state normal? There is no such thing as normal and supposed to be … don’t you believe? So if there is no normal, it means you must must be exactly who you are.
That is the only thing the universe expects you to be. A 100 percent expression of you.
The ways of the world makes no sense
Sometimes I want to escape myself
Hover high above
And wait for something else
Sometimes … well a lot of the time, our world just seems lie a meaningless bump on a log. Actually a bump on a log might have more purpose.
You wake up – get out there. And then wonder what it’s all really even about.
I don’t know.
Let’s just create art, perhaps it will bring beauty to the nonsensical.
An anger surges through me
But it should not be so
The dull evilness of horrid people
Should not make ıt so
I want to believe people are all lovely
They are not
They throw stones for not a reason
Beyond their dirty soul
How to pass thıs I wonder
We are all chıldren of God
Then I realıze some have move beyond
They are just the shards of magic by Lord
Let their ugly not win
Let their pity not shine
Smile in their face of the power of divine
We must not dishearten
Beauty, love, kindness shall prevail
As we shroud these dark bodies in a veil
So they have no sun
And the die a delightful bite
While we thank the grateful rise of glorious sun and soft joy of moon rising
Love and beauty and kindness shall prevail
We can, we must, we delete
In magic and supremeness to the wonderment we must hail…
peace
Hello readers and writers and poets and magicians.
This is a poem found in my collection of poetry entitled The Human Condition – available free for download this weekend …. nothing like fall weather and a hot beverage and some poetry and some rain and a blanket and a fire ….
Swipe
by Joti Heir
How about this
You crazy beautiful bastard
You are sublime
I love you all kinds
I kiss your lips
Your soul
Your love
Your bliss
Love you all kinds
Even though you do not exist
Beyonce’s apeshit video is lovely in unto itself.
But basically.
We see her creating a comparative to existing great works of the caucasian kind.
In the big picture, these types of videos just create a baseline of what is great. And with her video she has indicated what is great and what you must live up to. And apparently greatness amounts to paintings created by Western painters. And so a measure of greatness is if you can dance in front of/vies/chide paintings created by Western creators.
Ir is sad – that this is our measure of greatness.
This does not help to expose all of the amazing artists in the non-wetern realm – or even make people aware aware that they exist.
This kind of prose just leads people to fight against one another. A better way is to expose arts from different cultures and let us inspire. We are not in a campetition, there is more than enough for all of us.
We can all create and do beautiful thingns for the world – we don’t need to stand near a picture of someone who created something great. We can create something great ourselves and share it.
Creating something is like having the magic of life in your own hands.
Forget these people that lead us astray … let’s create beautiful things …
You can make something amazing from your own mind – share it.
Let us all be creators, not consumers of other people’s ideas.
Image courtesy of Robert Baker who you can find on Unsplash.
I can tell you I have woken up many a day
And questioned the point
the point of it all
Freedom sought I
Found it in a way I sought not
And now I wait for the end of it all
It is raining outside
It feels so good
Can I find a feeling better than this say my I
Words are commentary
A real one flight catch where I
If us lost ones could only find each other
But wait
Before you do something crazy
And think point not
I tell you point there is
Fist-knuckle the pain
There are things to be made
You see the sordid I see
It sneems a pittance you could be in
this brash world of nothing propriety
But please listen
Let us walk
There is a hocus-pocus to this world
Don’t let trite words
Eliminate the power of a trillion neurons bouncing in your brain
waiting to see what they came to be
Let us see what we can create
Forget what you see through your eyes
The true world is a love of the neverending kind
A passion that transverses galaxies
smiles
love
giggles
don’t take thos words as arbitrary
it is how our heartbeats
Childish desire it
We desire child too
And kill with ordinary
Read understand we on neuron plain
As children we did the same
Please wait a minute
There is something for you to create
That is why you hate it all
Because you know you must change it all
And the strength seems to take your all
The world is wrong
That’s what makes you feel wrong
Your feeling is right
You are the master of what you are to do
Forge
So there is never an end of it all
Only a path to the galaxies
Of wonders that shall never cease
Life is on Earth a beginning
Joti Heir
