Schrodinger’s Spiritual Mind

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Schrodinger’s spiritual mind both alive and dead.A swelling desire to dwell on the eternal.The carnal inspiration of the darker thoughts.loneliness and anger war against the lovely and pure.Staring into a sunrise over mountains while counting my sins and offenses. A swelling din of joy growing at the sight, the sound of the beloved.Into the fog of melancholy nihilism, fatalistic grind, the rut.Rise above I tell myself, breath in the fog its good for the lungs.See …

Abandoned School

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I am like this abandoned school I drive by everyday.I echo faintly with the nostalgia of youth.I have a playground but no but me uses it. I oil the merry go round.I test the seesaw.I bat at the deflated tether-ball. I stand vacant surrounded by busy lives.Equal parts Charlie Brown and Calvin and Hobbes.Yet old, not useless just old without being old. At least part of me fits this description.A part that was full of …

Ears To Listen

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There is a God, evidencedBy the fact, my son livesHe survived tidal wave of my own wrathBeating me down slowlyMy own patience erodingPersistent waves of adolescence Assailing my own foundation Crash crash crash crash crashThe loud din of a man lostMy own voice crushes you Shame Im sorry I lost my temperIm not sorry for being angry Daddy fallsMay we both have ears to listen

Sketch

Magnificent – Haiku Aaron Blakeley

People take pictures of everything.Pictures of food, pictures of each otherlandscape, pets, kids, friends, everything.This is good. I stopped taking pictures of everything and started to write poetry. Capture the feeling of loving my child, or my wife, being late to work, or the breeze as it passes through the pines. Even if no one reads it this will still be with me.

A Second Chance at Coffee

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One slip, one unfinshed task, one meInsufficent quantum mental nodesOrganic processor ran hot Stuck looping unreasonable expectationsImterstellar contium terminated by “oops”I forgot my laptop Late to work already after Raked over the coals of joyful inadequacyThe seams; can’t you see them they loosen, bust into spaceAnd I am undone in the few miles it takes to go and return.While I am there getting what I forgotI fill my cup again A second chance at coffee.

That is My Clock Work Demon!

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Lord Burgahmont! I need to have words with you my gilded lamplighter has gone missing and it seems the one you wield right now is a striking doppelganger. Oh Lord Pelshfuit, it is indeed your gilded lamplighter as I absconded with it one fortnight ago as payment for my bejangled pony saddle you borrowed but never returned to me. How dare you Lord Burgahmont! I removed from your possession that magnificent bejangled pony saddle as …

Scrub Away

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Scrub away your identityScrub away your pain No matter what you do you can’t get rid of the Imago Dei Go ahead and yell at himGo tell God he’s wrong Just remember what he says about you while you rage within the throng.

A Hard Peace

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A toddler’s demanding cry.A teen’s frustrating whine.A child’s roll of the eye.A coworker’s biting reply.A spouse’s sharp decry. My heart is hard.My eyes are blind.Under all human action,A desperate link.Be it hurt, truth, madness or sin,True evil, virtue or a deafening inner dinThe man with empathy, wisdom and love combined,There in his heart grows the peacemaker’s vine A toddler’s demanding cry.The confusion of youth and dependence imbibe. A teen’s frustrating whine.The scaffolding is set build …

One Light Command

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All these people, bodies, soulsLungs filled with gifts, every particleOne man speaksArms and microphone a man who is focal Abide in me The branch drinks the sap Pens scratch paper tiny screens scrollWe are intertwined by the KingAre we superficial?I am a well dressed bag man Keep my command.The fruit swells is it sweet? It is so polished all of it even meI hate the polish I want to seeI want to see past to …

Forgot The Deep Wood

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I forgot the Deep Wood.It used to be sewn into my bone.Where fires burned for warmth.Light was made for reading and work.The deep wood used to be my home. I would drink from brooks of song,but as modern man from the tap.Where everyday chores were craft.My modern world is immediate,a disposable waste a glimmering trap What is this Deep Wood I seek? Not a place of location or crest. No, an inner reality painting all.The wind …