Release me from this ego (part I)

Trapped inside something that desires getting everything with nothing and giving nothing with everything  ~ 
My piece of fragmented essence yearns to be released ~ free to fly again in the deep ever cosmic universal bath my ego scornfully at times and wantonly often calls Love.

I am pulled whilst pushed on stormy waves ever squinting my eyes in hopes that perhaps my sight might become far beyond a human eye to then grab and hold forever the ultimate freedom of the fragment that was mistaken for a complete soul.

Once again I stumble upon the recognition that only from the environment that I alone choose to build might I then increase my desires for the spirituality which I know we only sustain across many galaxies endlessly sprinkled in universes some yet unexplored.

Once again I seek to develop the nurturance and supportiveness of many fragments all seeking to increase their spiritual desires that through such an influential bath for the fragments the soul has more truth to become one whole.   

Tossing out the 'dirty bath water' is actually a difficult step for the ego clings tightly convinced it needs to associate more closely via falling into other egos' rules and expectations.  An insidiously dirty bath water that altho growing cold is familiar enough to anesthetize pieces of thoughts that might promote letting go.

Oh how I struggle.  Oh how I slip and fall.  Oh how I refuse to give up knowing I must continue to try!!

It is a desperate awareness that I am but a broken little piece that drives me then to seek the spiritual release which may only come about if I can forget what I thought ~ that thought that only wanted and forget how it  felt to take for only the ego's sake.  

Like circles that go round and round but are closed and become only themselves ~ that is an ego out of any control of the truth.  Huge perceptual mistakes made now must be cast onto the sandy rock laced shores from the ocean that then can become calm gentle heaving sighs of relief in what the shore tethered dreamers call waves.  

You can not ride a wave that is already engulfed you in its arms.

I am in the arms of the arms of the ocean that remains in an evolving motion across stars and black holes and beyond the  curling edges of each universe soon shed.

I once got too close to the shore and the beaches there entranced me that I stayed almost too long.............

© 1998-2016 by KLB

frozen-in-the-heart

how does one describe this ~

There is a hollowness that feels heavier than the aire inhaled and held there.



This gasp now held still as silence passes through this.



My heart whispers imperceptible longing for your eyes to hold it close ~ yours to mine.









Those days way back when .............



The farmhouse sat on its own solid ground surrounded by miles of pastures and hayfields waiting to be gleaned alongside the chopped cornfields as off in the distance the ghost of a cornshucker could almost be heard being operated by several long gone men.  



On the old wrap around porch she stood with one arm hugging the round white column that held the roof above.  Her eyes squinting into the sun that was effortlessly heading to the edge of the earth as her lips persed to whistle for the old mare.  Wisps of golden reddish hair blown across her left cheek sprinkled with freckles her Aunty had called angel kisses, she leaned forward toward mother earth as if to take flight at the last breathtaking moment when the sun slipped from the earth.





Flowers plucked from vines and leaves much earlier now slightly wilting in the basket gave off the most gentle scent like the breath of a new born babe washed in lotions and swathed in cotton smocked cloth.  Her nose twitched as it caught the posies scent........ leaving the impression forever deep in her tender heart.





The creak of the screen door startled her back to the first touches of the night aire as her Uncle stepped out and walked firmly to the porch swing calling her name to come sit a spell with him and his promise of more railroad stories to unfold until her head would nod drowsy next to sleep.







Tis a captured time when all the senses were so alive and impressionable....... a time that now is brought up into the present mind as much older she sits staring across the landscape to the east ...... wondering........


~ it might be coming round again......

.......and this time I know where it connects and with whom ~

frozen-in-the-heart





 © 1998-2016 by KLB

Another Last Day of Pompeii (a prose poem)

He thought he knew her by analyzing what he could not know for he missed himself within it all like  the foam churned up by a loud clamorous wave of wicked depths unplumbed by the soul that is left so alone stuck inside the creature's armor of smug bravado as a final authority to all but himself.  Such is the presentation of a frightened ego.  

Imagine how the disconnect leaves the heart flapping about like a sail untethered but yet the ego pretends to guide a ship that needs none from such a mere mortal when eternity's very breath is that of the energy of souls collected into a black hole then spewed out the white side of forever.  

It is all a miserable charade that like chameleons changing color amongst the surroundings stagnant remains chameleons all the same.  

One does not know another unless  time sat across from one another with hearts listening to the halves of the whole silence the minds that would wish to be oh so wise and if per chance that moment arrives simultaneously the hearts collide in knowing the known that the souls dreamed to connect again in hope the disconnect could be thrown to the cosmic winds never to return again.

One moment the whispers were crying and the next moment they were in unison singing the only song that ever mattered for any soul that longed to be  released from the brief chambers of a house cluttered with distortions and a lack of stardust perfumes due to the negligence of rich growths of mold so sadly cherished as if the older they were the better kept they must be.  

Sadly the robe worn by the recalcitrant old lady was not nearly as present as yoda's hopsack cloak but certainly provided mystery for the casuistry.  Is that a small red cloth sew on the arm of the purple robe so worn that the salty sea spray crusted over any rich color that had been applied ancient years beyond the fires of the land fallen into the sea.

Ash rained down upon the jester's yellow head causing grey to falsely trick the eyes into prompting the lips to speak as if the jester were the final authority on everything the world knew albeit that world was no large than a thimble used to protect an old weathered finger from the prick of the needle right before the essence slipped through the eye to the other side where light once again melted into breaths of angel aire that was far and away nothing the human grotesque lung could suck in to glean even a few more molecules of life that extended a day into a parched thirsty night.  Drink up for tomorrow never comes.

Ever wonder what gets spewed out the other end of that black hole into the WHITE NOISE?
Not you nor me nor the final self proclaimed authority.  Not anything as humans we might see or feel or taste.

I know you see for I have been there with her dancing as it were whilst listening to the music emitted from the realm of that one universal energy that so many clouded creatures years gone wished they could obtain not realizing it was there deep inside all the while if only the egos let go.  

Yes yes the tragedy of our lives encumbered by the seriousness of the puny mind that wasted itself unable to gain any real self control other than having oone last word somewhere anywhere at all.  

BOOM.  As the mountain explodes with those on top blown to bits and those below covered in the hot lava.   Cling to flesh as it melts like jello left sitting on the sidewalk of time under the heat of a flaming sun.  It is like grabbing for love that refuses to be caged or held tight but is always there ready and waiting to revive what is only worthy of revision in cosmic aire.  

Want to play it safe without committing to any thoughts that might somehow bring a judgment down upon the head of the lamb that was shepherded mistakenly to slaughter with presumptions that turned into assumptions only so that the protection of imaginary friends could be uncovered as windmills left over from an energy that was priced for cowards consumption?   There is no safe place for you.  Now for that heart so neglected we have some extra golden rope to lash it to the mast that the ship might carry on across the waters of forever.  

Alas spacetime crept up and stole away what could have been one more useless day of the condor but for that old woman in the faded purple robe who had a mystery shape inhuman.

Burning ~ no remains.

 © 1998-2016 by KLB

introspection of nothingness

what is it that damages the most

tis the mind turning like stones over and over

 the ruinations of others infections from such unconcerned damnations of all others

 which then visits upon this one like a knife at first puncturing slowly then going deeper

 ripping more than flesh more than bone

 ripping into the inner circle of the hopes that trust was born

perhaps the crude sharp metal

 has finally hit the very essence 

that no one even knew was just born

perhaps this is the final straw

 that was so heavy

 not even summer harsh breezes could send it away

like a cat pawing at its prey playful 

enjoying only its own senses

 oblivious to the life within its object of attention

how to let now all that has descended

 not eat alive in hungry consumation

 this tender essence that was,

 who knows if still is,

 a cosmic sensation indescribable 

with any puny human words

what if this time

 the center is torn wide open

 and left to bleed completely out

alas all matter 

never really did matter

 not so for some

 the I-guesses tis true

stunned with nothing left to give

not even movement of any kind would now assist

the sinking down down down into the abyss

finds more pain than any grip

and maybe this time

 nothingness will even have any power to stop this descent

past desperation

 beyond 

and deeper

 than aching reaching

 the free fall may well be forever

and the writings on the darkest walls of this deep black hole

tell of far too many losses than any soul alone could forbear

not even the chanting voices from above singing out the unfairs

nor the promises all so vaguely broken in shattering shards

snag the essence

 to stop its winding fluttering descent

 into this the abyss

nothingness now would be so welcome

yet indeed this might be the very worst

no imagination could have ever conjured up

not even the I can save this

when all human senses fall away

when not even the distant feeling comes this way

the long awaited once seen warmth of totality

can not even be envisioned in a wish

it simply was that is that was not that never became that could but for not

 how is it that there is no outward caring from which to reach even the small finger tip extended now from this that may well have lost all grip

Copyright©1998-2016 byKLB