“If a listener quiets his neocortical chatter and allows limbic sensing to range free,
melodies begin to penetrate the static of anonymity.”[1]
We think (self-fufillingly) we are so separate, no one knows the troubles I’ve seen
We idolize our own perception, certainly, we are the most unique
The brain works best when covering it’s ass, convincing us that nothing gets past our infallible senses.
Nobody gets one up on me.
The Universe perpetually proves otherwise.
all information contrary avails itself, but we happily go on
and fail to see (everything)
too afraid to hear
our lives are clever lies
we live in a derivative, understandable disguise
never bet against the stubborness of our fearful, prideful eyes
whose blame is our belief?
whose fault is our disease?
We think we know so
We only see
what’s important
for us to believe
We traded the stars for our
electricity
bought cars and sold our feet
but when all the lights
go out at once
the Oneness will return
Are you ready to remember peace?
the sky?
the trees?
We are indivisible
individually inseparable
vulnerable invincible
Interconnected ineffably
we are the Earth,
we are Nature
the Sun
the Galaxies
“the ‘paradox’ is only a conflict between reality
and your feeling of what reality ‘ought to be.'”[2]
1. Thomas Lewis, M.D., Fari Amini, M.D., Richard Lannon, M.D. A General Theory of Love, p. 169 New York: Vintage Books (2001)
2. Richard Feynman, The Feynman Lectures on Physics, vol III, p. 18-9 (1965)
Poetry prompt: Mish at the Poet’s Pub
“Where’s that confounded bridge?”
Begin and end a poem with two quotes from two different books.
Prunkentfaltung 
I really liked your thought of reality… how much we cannot control… how much is just base reactions… maybe we spend most of our time rationalizing our vices.
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I appreciate your interpretation. Spot on!
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Everything is Waiting for You by David Whyte
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and to invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
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I really loved your poem–beautiful. They keep stirring up these other poems for me. Thanks for the bounty of contributions!
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It seems there are quite a few prophetic poems with this prompt. This line says it all, “We traded the stars for our
electricity”
and we would be wise to let the “melodies begin to penetrate the static of anonymity.”
Try to read and comment on the other poems, and thanks for yours!
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Rich commentary on what we have become and the loss of We.
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I like it. I think one day when the night sky goes dark again, some of us will begin to understand how selfish our lives have been.
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I really like that first quote. Great choice.
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