Sleeping with Valor’s Retreat

There are lines to this scarcity.

Hidden obstacles filled with joyless doubt.

Now that I am in…the dead air is coming out!

A covert world we all must go thru…

and, the question remains…

‘Will I have the courage to go without you?’

The grass beaded with dew and the…aromatic earth…

does not quench my soul as it used to.

Lying and dying have become art forms.

A certain style giving unto…laughing…crying.

Courage in the blinding light of day can whisk the unthinkable webs away.

Nonetheless, the night…with its sporadic fits of sleep…

Still begs for valor’s retreat.

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Beauty is in the Technique

Too lazy to be ambitious, I let the world take care of itself. Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag; a bundle of twigs by the fireplace. Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out! -Ryokan

Sleepy Eye’d Possum

Wake me from this revolting riddle

My island…tartan from the toil

Every moment in slumber…I am submerged on faraway soil

Outings of yesteryear, swirl and wane from folly’s foil

Though I stack cords of oak to guard against my enemies

I fear tomorrow it will topple and the pond shall boil

Had I not known Friendly Strangers when young.

My reduced everything would have remained under constraint of younger guns

Now, only another Castaway…

Friendly Stranger wake me with your beat…

a distant and different kind of drum

Common Considerate Behavior

salamander

What if the whole world just held hands?
United as one 
Those who opposed, fell off
Disintegrated into the sun
The only thing left of evil was ash 
The only thing left on earth was people with passion
Heart for Mother Nature
Caring for their fellow human being
Common considerate behavior 
Contribution towards humane higher plane of consciousness

  • Andrew Edward Lucier

Sense and Susceptibility

 

 

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We are all tempted by a grand design…

Something of an imaginary kind…

Incense so zealous…yet, not ours to find.

A pungent temptress.

An oak’s sweetness…

A nutmeg sheltered in bitterness.

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After the hibernation, when frolic peppers the air.

It is there.

It is there.