A Grand History of Culture #poetry #writing


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Fed on the Universe

In the belly, in the brain
Vocabulary is drawing
The long-dead past
And the descendent divinity
Of the future
The sun producing

Powerful dreams
In space-time
A word can do this
The stove of love

It burns, cooks, is fetched
By hungry onlookers

Underneath my skin
Even in the simulations
I observe and create
The layers of magic
In the heart of mirrors
That print, rock, hologramize

II

And for a moment
I knew the hand
That is the mover
Nature, God, Time

Feeding on everything

More than dopamine
Fill there is nothing
But one supreme
Love of life, the endearment
That survives all wars

The gratitude that endures

All obstacles, persecutions
Struggle, that spirit
That feeds the fire
To create, to sing, to write.

We are most happen when


A Self-Help poem series

47

The giver receives
The selfish miser is miserable
It’s an easy thing to observe
Sacrifice for others and notice

If this enables you to think
More about the world
And less about yourself?
There are others less fortunate

Than you, the seed cannot
Know what will happen
Without water and sunlight
To focus on the self is to isolate

Oneself from the energy of life
Life is a relationship with itself
There are no actual boundaries
You create them, by distinction

By not sharing your life with others
Self isolation is one of the problems
Of individualistic societies, we pretend
We are strong, but people aren’t

By nature strong, we are tender
We were made for partnership, family
Clan, community, society, cooperatives
Fraternity, exhibition, theater, lovers

Nurturing others enables the energy
To circulate, like blood or light
Do not live a frozen life
Do not waste your time in selfishness

Or attempting to profit
For when we are alone
We are conditioned to think of scarcity
And when we are together we

Happen to muse about plenitude
So what does that mean?