The fall from Earth's grace

Where mysteries lie, like cockroaches, hellbent on resistance to the plague of time, a secret garden of delights materializes; with reproach, they linger forth, in rows that mirror each other, a mirage of faceless beings. Their hearts are blackened, tainted, by the wasteland, a den of their own making.  For all your choices led to this, so do not beg forgiveness.  Bamboozled, you've all been, by the gods of Gluttony, of Gore and Greed; false idols full of charming deceit.  You've strayed from Her grace, so far removed - a distant cousin - unaffected, at first.  And She weeps in sympathy, for all her children.  Perhaps on some other realm, she thinks, a parallel universe, where butterflies roam free, unharmed; it would have been different.

Living in the Now

Now I'm stretching it
the elastic bands of time
creating universes in the mind.
Fear not, fellow souls
and continue forth
with me, down this road;
as we journey into
possibilities, yet unknown.
For it is NOW that we live
and never any other
moment, millisecond,
or microsecond of
reality.
Only, the eternal now
can be.

Friendly succubi

What is she?  She's laughing now, gripping at me.  I lay frozen, but swinging my hands and pushing back.  Am I awake?  This can't be happ-but it is.  But her laugh is funny - like a giggling kind of childish laughter, not the sinister kind - I realize.  She's laughing at me, cause I don't get it.

I suddenly feel her presence all around me, like tiny particles that fill empty space; she exists everywhere...and so do I.  In that moment I feel a wave of sensations throughout my body; a molecular level, negative and positive clashing and weaving together.

What is this place I've never seen?  It's so familiar.  There's a blur, as my eyes are closed, I realize...I'm sleeping?  But I'm here, I'm awake.  The room is the same, this is my room.  That's my dresser, my closet, there's the bedroom door.  I'm lying here and she's here.  She's fuzzy, and I can see her, though she isn't really here!

What does it mean?  Like I've tapped into the in-between.  Is this where we all go?  Doomed to the land of the 'living', lurking like shadows that are cast only by those with enough insight to really see?  It's just a dream.  I should just go back to sleep.  Ignore her, she'll go away.  Tomorrow she'll be a faint memory, a vivid dream.  You have them all the time; no need to fret.  Reality is tomorrow, when you wake up, and go to work, and do things...the real world..can't I just stay a little longer?  I think I like this place.  It's quiet in the fuzzy silence. 

third eye dream

Her heart was pounding, as she focused on the bee.  The flower was so bright, a soft but violent yellow.  And the bee itself was shades of yellow and brown, ethereally painted, like a dream.  He flew closer and closer to her, and almost delicately, landed, stinging her forehead.  Perfectly, between her brows.

Suddenly, she fell back, thrust into another space.  Voices were echoing faintly, becoming louder with each image.  She seemed to stand in mid air, but she couldn't get a sense of herself, her body.  Like floating, she stared forward.  A mushroom-like glowing entity sat before her. It was masked in shades of purple and blue, electrical pulses moving within it.  Like flashbacks she kept seeing images in her mind of broken children, hunger, pain, storms and other tragedies, the bulk of the human experience of suffering that existed only in news and textbooks.  She had little to compare in her own waking life.  The voice grew louder, a woman's voice, very plain and serious..."23 homes without electricity. No explanation."

Her heart pounded heavier and she cried within to wake up, wake up!  She was thrust forward again, projected it seemed, but with fear, she had to wake up.  It wasn't time.  She wasn't ready.  In the next minute, she was back in her apartment, lying on the tile floor.  She sat up, felt her forehead.  There was nothing. Just a dream..

Miscommunication and on being 'deaf' in the cell phone era

I haven't posted one of these rants in quite some time.  Hope you enjoy..

Is it possible that we are slowly becoming more and more 'deaf' by our lack of attention to those around us?  Stop for a moment and really consider how often you actually practice active listening to your friends, family, co-workers, etc., whilst texting that other person that's miles away, or checking your statuses on Facebook, Twitter, or whatever you fancy.  Perhaps neither of you are fully engaged in the conversation, as you both sit partially muted, intently gazing at the bright screen before you, a world full of possibilities, a pretend world where you exist in varying forms; as blogger, gamer, trend setter, podcaster, food critic for the Yelp app, app creator, Wikipedia updater, and on and on.  There are far more options in this new world, leaving the old world to sit silently, waiting for communication to once again flow from one organism to the next.  But it doesn't.

Instead, we are often confused by texts we receive, unless we practice proper text etiquette (textiquette?), or by comments and posts on our profiles.  Did he/she use a smiley face?  Was that made with an air of snarkiness (look it up, Urban Dictionary) or was she just being cheeky?  This may even thus manifest into our face-to-face interactions, as people respond in very passive ways, sometimes so blatantly that we can tell they haven't heard a word we are saying!  They may pass this off and say, "I'm sorry, I was distracted," or "Apologies, what did you say?" and worse, "What?"  The death of spoken language is upon us, I fear.  Will it be necessary to speak anymore, if we can simply type/text, all that we wish to say?  Even now, I type on this keyboard and transcend my thoughts across the WWW, without having to 'say' a thing.

Perhaps, though, I'm being too harsh.  But my mind wanders to a potential future, where we do not speak.  Would it be lovely and would we evolve into a form of psychic communication?  Or might we all become deaf and mute, consistently using our phone/device communication, to the point that we no longer require hearing or speaking to co-exist, to survive.  I suppose, the choice is ours...mostly.  It'll certainly be interesting to see.  And with any luck, we'll keep that sense, hopefully along with taste; I rather like that one.

~HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.

  

For A, on your birthday

If I could write a poem about you,
to tell you how I feel,
I would tell you all those things,
that make you ethereal;
and beautiful, for sure.
Like stars in heaven,
clusters of constellations,
and galaxies unknown;
energies flow
in a way I've never..
This experience is magic;
amidst chaos it whispers,
a quiet song of lovers,
feeling gentle in the moonlight.
Entangled in a womb of safety,
as your kisses heal a wounded heart,
a fragile spirit, searching for
something different, something pure.
And real, I feel
is the essence your being,
a lovely tenderness
that lifts my spirits;
as you take me to
better existences,
a journey
I'm wholly ready for,
I'll float,
and fly high above the clouds.
Where vulnerabilities lie
awake and fresh,
like new skin,
we sit quietly.
And I'll wait there with you,
holding on to
the bittersweet moments
of fate, and futures to be told.

Rant about T

Butterflies, baby smiles, a crisp winter morning after a fresh snow,
sunshowers, rainbows, mountain views and cresting waves.
This is how I feel about you.
Sunshine kissing your face, a rush in your stomach from a roller coaster, the stars and moon on a desert night, these things that I delight,
in, are nothing compared to the happiness you bring, or equal in comparison?

Your soul is bright and hovering like a giant guardian.
Shelter, comfort, safety.  My own light shines through, around you.
Compatibility's abound as if there was something cosmic, going on.  Can it be?
Perhaps, yes it certainly can.
You got what you've asked for, always you get, what you, put out.
So why not?

Something so lovely and tethering, keeps you from falling off,
from losing hope, for that desire.
In this lifetime, it happened. It's happening now, you can feel it.
Don't lose sight of the importance, the lessons.
It's cosmic, spiritual and beautiful.
Sometimes it'll be quiet and simple; even lovelier.

Fantasies of future's past, or yet to be.
Nothing is certain and yet everything, is possible.
Keep dreaming, I tell myself.
The dream is yet to unfold.
The dream is present, ever present.
Be bold.