The Poet

No, the poet does not strive to "make 
the reader understand." The reader (that 
intangible abstraction) cannot mold

the poet's path, the poem which, of itself, 
is born upon the page, chasing nothing 
but its own sweet dream. It is I, tangible, 

individual reader, who must rise 
to exigencies the poem dares me 
try and find significant—it is I, 

always I, must climb the heights the poem 
lures me climb, with all due dangers posed, 
all delights unveiled before my eyes,

until finally I have found the path, and made
myself worthy of the poem's infinite beauty 
and deep significance.

It is then the poem will open up its calyx,
give off its fragrance and sweet scent,
to transform our lives with unspeakable,
sublime Wonder.


Why, Dear Lord

Why, dear Lord, have you given us this heart,
so filled with longings that can never fully be,
the way a tree is root, bark, boughs, leaves,
the way a bird is song and joy and pure delight?

Why, dear Lord, is the night always sparkling
with veiled meanings, which never open
utterly to us, yet leave us with such
melancholy spaces within?

Why, dear Lord, though we have the gift
of love does love come so hard to find,
and once found so terribly hard to learn,
to keep in freedom grown?

Why, dear Lord, though we in thee do wish
to dwell, and all thy beauteous world to love,
do we expel ourselves from Paradise,
or lose the vision and the bliss as we
grow old?

Why, dear Lord, are we so achingly
aware of Time and Transience, yet dare
not take hold of every precious second
of our lives until the day of our departure?

Why, dear Lord, have you given us this heart,
so filled with longings that can never fully be,
the way a tree is root, bark, boughs, leaves,
the way a bird is song and joy and pure delight?


Like a shiny demigod, you stand here before me with unconcerned eyes beaming down into the depths of all I am, but you’re blind and I can’t seem to find the will to help you-- I don’t care to. I’ll let you struggle and always think you know when even I can’t know. There’s a dynamic flow in everything and it’s everywhere, but still from somewhere a selfish, stagnant force fights for dictation, and gets stuck at ideation. We get stuck at identification and separate you from me. We’re isolating and decimating, contemplating and waiting for some external action to save us.
Failing to see the unity, schisms fracture Love and disrupt Peace. Quakes of arrogant desire believe their imagined lies to confine their own lives strict within the cage of fearful ignorance, securing us in sensation and fenced in selective cohesion. Reason is a thing oft in neglect, associated with only the intellect, a mere man, amassing “facts.” Think about your knowledge and realize it’s aged, already stale (naturally technique and recipe remain). We can’t know NOW, and therefore can’t measure it. With no labels, now is new, infinitely unknown… This is now. This is all there is and all I am, but not me. There is no will, therefore no actor. There is no I… There is this moment….and here, accordance with the harmony of reality occurs. “I” don’t love. Here, there is Love, Peace, and Freedom, the lack of all self. Nothing is here, but here is everything.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No comment

Ever Changing Eyes

Thinking on the dew of a just-born day, what today seems so vibrant, tomorrow grey?
For now the shapes they bend into figures and ornaments wrapping and surrounding me like their purpose is only to supply a place where new smiles on my face can grow. The colors, they twist and crackle, they sparkle and gleam, jumping for point to place dancing, dipping and diving all around sparking flames of brilliance not unlike the ones prayer’s followers hope to unite with.
How long can this continue on before these colors, these shapes, this myriad of dreamscapes turn from twists and bends to writhing and seizing. The colors glowing so brightly they block out the timid beauty of the sun, the tender calling of the ocean’s decadent rainbow. The shapes, like the leaves of fall, stumble and crack against the wind of time, dying out and falling just short of another beautiful cycle.
Perhaps though, in this life’s bliss less downfall, in it’s breaking and fading apart, a new ending will become far away; objects forming worlds as the tumble together from their end to an elegant new beginning. The bright whites and gleaming colors collapsing into each other so as to splinter and fracture, molding and forming just to show it’s not how bright they were, it’s how well they responded to each other. It’s not how the shapes fell together, but how with dignity they fall apart. It’s not that the sun was gone, it’s just that sometimes the singing and dancing make for a better view…


I closed my eyes, and separated myself from everything and everyone. I left the world’s haunting commotion and its superficial duties. I dropped the meaningless thoughts of the day and let go of all attachments, which bind me to the shackles of game and work. I entered my own universe, one whose parallels are unhindered, flowing freely with the senses of my imaginations. I embarked on a formless transcendence, one whose sounds are colors, lights are dreams, objects are memories, with love in streams. I felt blended and dissolved into the horizons of the beauty portrayed before me, and I was consumed by the infinite capacities of its wonder. Thoughts became memories, images waved into ripples, sounds illuminated into flashbacks, and logic disassembled into mysticism. Pain transformed into a tingling pleasure which magnified with every stimulus resonating throughout the plains of this virtual reality. Time seemed to take the form of peaceful waves flowing to the shore. It just flowed, and carried on. It was no longer still in fear and distorted in idleness, it just moved along, with nothing but the hymns of the wind to carry it. It was kind of funny, that despite all of the fascinating phenomena being cast upon the spires of my imagination and fortress of my unconscious, there was silence. It was so deep and tranquil, so calming to chaos. Fears just began to drift with the tides, turmoil began to disassemble in the rays of sunshine. Reason took the form of nothingness, and sublime art scattered throughout the skies, just painting its realm its realm with the aspirations of my innocence, and the dreams of my desideratum.

Truly wonderful it was, as I left the chains of the world and my scars aside,
But I ought to face these challenges, so that such beauty with reality, may coincide

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Stars By Ria J. Leon

The shine of years,
Of sights seen through
Spectacles of crystal,
Tinted with rose,
Lingering over the dreams
And over the sleepless
And weary.
Surely angels
Are they who guard
Us nightly,
And city lights pollute your
Lovely soft light,
And while another
Is more brilliant
None is as sweet
Like you, who is
Honey and dew.
I know your names
or try,
But do you know me?
Or am i just another
Wide-eyed fool?
Content enough to watch
While others try and touch.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This ones simple, just a speculation on the stars.

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To Wonder is Feline.

Down the sidewalk, past centennial street,
A road I’ve come to know in nearly every light.
It is lined with familiar houses, with unfamiliar faces.
I know the house where one Saint Bernard lives.
Whose drooping lids and flappy flews know no lieu.
And the Samoyed, I know him too.
He lives in the house with the bright pillars,
As if colored in by children’s hands.
The years have gone, and I’ve daily past.
If they see me in grey, well, I see them like that too.
They cock their heads, and then dismiss.
As if to say, ‘Oh, it’s just you again.’

Finally I come to the point where the sidewalk ends,
The part where I turn around.
Just one more step,
And I’d be further away, than I have ever been.
One more step,
And I’d be doing something strange.

Between me and the stop sign,
Lays a mobile thing.
The grey tabby in my direction casts
A pair of yellow and blinking eyes
Going with speed, with no particular end in mind
It might be nice, I think to myself, to be a cat.
With no solid ties, no long goodbyes,
To anyone or anything.
Could I grow pointed ears and whiskered cheeks?
To travel along a breeze,
Binding the known, so long.
What would that be like?
I would not travel, by road or way.
But through open field or wooded plane,
That is the path I would take.
I’d take my hat, my journal, and my time.
I’d take a turn around every rock and every tree
Just to see what I would find.

Yet it is here that I turn, again to choose the same.
Perhaps, one day, I’ll follow.
Perhaps one day, I’ll bereave
But the sky is getting darker now,
And even cats do not wonder in the rain.

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A Wolf's Freedom

The mist, the breeze, silhouettes of vague moonlight and grasses of fading green
Flourish mysteriously artistic sublimity, and pierces to mind a fascination beyond
Beauty in its chaos, wonder in its profound mirage, to my sight it has forever deemed
Lost was I for eternity in this moment, blending with the resonation of a perfect song

Through the grips of the night, I hear the soothing howls of the mystic wolves, the glimmer of twilight dancing throughout the scope of its eyes enchants my sight. I look into the wolf’s eyes, noticing the wavering of its graceful fur, the steadiness of its firm paws on the blighted colors of the earth, the blissful and powerful growling resonating through the senses of my spine, the fury of its stance which magnifies with the vistas of dark horizons, its chest flowing in breaths of shallow nature, raising its chest in brief periods. Despite all of the intriguing details of its intimidating presence, the fear with which its claws ought to cast into the hearts of the ordinary, I gaze thoughtfully into the eyes of this magnificent creature, and realize an innocence enflamed with an ultimate passion for freedom. I noticed the rapid pulsation of its chest rhythmically dancing with the fervent flowing of glimmers in its alluring eyes, and saw nature in its pure and basic form, and felt the potency of its life searing through my existence with a power divine. I drifted off into the plains of this eternally enlightening night, I look once more into the eyes of this majestic creature, and then take a look at myself. An inconvenient truth then hit me with a sense of unbearable grief. Man no longer belongs here.

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A dream I fly off into, throughout the wavy plains of its plasticity
I witness a haze of blur, a fuzziness of soft fur, and a path towards horizons
Dizziness embraces my mind as it instills into the threads of unpredictability
Beauty engulfs the world’s foundations alongside the dispersion of imaginations

Levitating was I amongst the rays of resonating wonder
Gliding through the destinies of untold passions and unstated love
Soaring unhindered alongside inspirations which guide asunder
Blending with the specks of reality which attain to the ultimate of freedoms

Not with much meaning may the words of such nature in discrete images describe
But rather in the flowing fluidity in which it is cautiously inscribed
May you dwell into the beats of instigating invigorations of the soul
Ones with which your sight envelops not with single identity, but with beauty as whole

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