CPoetry

a compass has its limits. (eight limits to be exact.) to those who explore without a compass, they have no limits and seek only one direction: Onward. ~ to you, braveheart, wander well. ::: cropped, bleached bangs. lime green nail polish. Sharpie X's on both hands. and a pastel orange shirt that says in white capital letters: CHOOSE LOVE. (why must love be a choice? if it is the Thing has exists infinitely and constantly, can we bow our foreheads in that river just once? once-and-for-all?) ::: just as the clothes on my back, i will wear You until i am worn. ragged and ripped and tattered in love. ::: if fear is your god, you are practicing a bad religion--- following the fidelity of an infidel; for reasons in or out of your control, someone or something convinces you the only answer to true joy and happiness is to remain within that which you already know and falsely believe. ::: ...

"Grandfather, which wolf wins?" "The one you feed," decreed the Cherokee to his boy. i asked myself then, of the two wolves, who is it that hungers more?       the bad wolf will always       be more hungry.      the good wolf,      out of his goodness,      allows the bad wolf      to feed more if given the chance.      the good wolf hopes,      at the ledge of death from starvation,      the bad wolf will see his suffering      and offer some of his food.      in the exchange of sharing      and compassion,      the bad wolf will then realize      he was never bad;      he, too, was always good. ::: a paper receipt is a forgettable object to the adult. as recently observed, it has become a white, crumpled flag of jo...

all else is absence. there is only all of you and all of your wisdom. it is one of the sweetest songs---your leaves through the wind; the song of the reed flute that makes its audience abstain from hearing "noise". this song, if sung, would be an insult. ::: one will never experience heartbreak if one disqualifies one's ego and accepts the bravery or  weakness of the other---at the discovery the one you love will go, again, in search of a love more suited to his or her liking; the promise of marriage does not permit one to encapsulate the freedom of his or her partner; love must always remain free. ::: the adult squishes the spider. the three-year-old child squats down and looks at the spider. who is more curious? of the two, who is closer to joy? ::: the grip of Your hand on the steering wheel tells me You fear being driven off the road. i unlatch one hand from the Arch of Contr...

the spirit of a living life is unable to submit under a black veil; the spirit moves, and it moves through all at its face. God, is the Bird whom can never be veiled. but, we are the shadow of the Bird. despite the stronghold which desires to veil a life in black, the shadow has already moved; God has already moved the life. the Bird and the shadow of the Bird connect ceaselessly. ::: at the moment our egos decease, we will, at once, become children. the ocean will turn on its head, and we will, in the laps of angels touch, each with a single fingertip, the waves of unity. ::: "uh! the shade feels good... sweetheart want any water?" no! "honey you wanna sit down?" no, i'm following the light! da duh da, da de... boop...boop...ba boop. "[laughs] we've been in the sun all day--- why don't you rest for a little bit hon." i don't want to. i'm following the sun stones!...

the more repeatedly we export our self-worth, the more repeatedly we import our loneliness. ::: we take interest in virtual platforms of which instantaneously satisfy our personal-biological-material desires, foster our seeded insecurities, expand our impish curiosities, disseminate calculated opinions, incapacitate emotional intelligence, deliver second-hand local and global news, decrease inner self-contentment, abandon the present moment, diminish meaningful conversation, permit skin-level social selectivity, enable consumerist tendencies, re-imagine unappealing realities with more idealized realities, and galvanize human connection with humanized connection.      lest the human conscience      becomes more agile and clever      than the finger-click of a key,      there is a fear the mountain      we built will be insurmountable;      econ...