28 Jun 2014

i am a current that jumps and courses through the universe
swimming through the chemistries of sensation
i am victorious over time but its claws dug deep
is it the curse of the warrior always to dream of peace?
i brush aside the veil of the world and there is such light
the graveyard of galaxies, where fire begins and ends
we on this ground sculpted with unyielding clay
and above is a void that resounds of victory to come
to learn the art of the amazing and breathe stratospheric
as a single raindrop falls through the infinite void
to return to the source of all motion, in silence

posted by John H. Doe @ 2:46 am

20 Jun 2014

have i been compromised?
i have known oblivion personally
the secret love to smolder
sound shakes through my bones
i am in pieces, strung together
i am whole, and fully numb
deriving sensation from the words
out in the wilds, the moon calls
to draw you from your comforts
i a hero in my secret identity
to wrestle with the wicked current
to dance with the rhythm primordial
a thousand clocks predict me not
i a quantum bit of the void
dreaming of how we return to dust

posted by John H. Doe @ 8:27 pm

14 Jun 2014

the alchemy in the drops of smoke and solidity is the mixture of the dream
for i have not dreamed, except that it flowed through me to where it needed go
i feel the burning of time passing, creation a phoenix each second’s tick
o protector who guides me on my path, let me not think you turn away lightly
the moonlight pale sings solemn the tune of measured light, of distant hope
the numbers conspire to be ordinary, hiding the flows of fate
the many visions of God each hide the depths, show only the surfaces
suddenly everything is so very small, the very concepts inconsequential
i shall ponder the quiet while i am in the middle of the wasteland
i return to the smoke where the phoenix in ashes readies to rise again
o protector who guides me on my path, i become the fire that burned the bush
and the voice that said this is holy ground: i climb the words to heaven

posted by John H. Doe @ 9:59 pm

13 Jun 2014

I have just recently realized that writing makes me happy. I recall the days putting down on paper (if electronic) the book, how blissful was my existence. I considered it my reward for a job well done, there in my visions (which inspired the writing in the first place). But even now, as I put down these words, I enter a sort of trance state, and I forget all else but the stream of structured thought which comes down as words, sprinkled into shape. When I graduated college I had thought I would be a writer, despite my computer science degree, but the meds I was on prevented me from writing (or reading!) for more than a half an hour at a time. I’d get antsy. And now, if by chance I might get off my meds, I must discover what I could put this talent towards. I am a child of destiny, and I try to follow the lines of what is meant to be; perhaps something will come up. Cheers!

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:29 am

10 Jun 2014

i have been mixed into the dreaming
my self poured through the starry sky
silence that follows me as i descend
ground myself in words we’ve forgotten
fire dancing in my hands, and scatters
as i awake still drenched in imagining
open my eyes, borrowed from angels

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:18 am

2 Jun 2014

i walk on by the light of the Resurrection
i am he who sleeps by the side of the rush
the mirror upon my breathing reveals secret song
(within the calendar are wheels within wheels
eternity being a whisper carrying beyond breezes)
i will aim at the narrow way that the shadows fear
and have within myself all heaven’s treasure
inklings of the infinite where i am meant to be
even if my love is merely a disembodied pain
i am meant to believe, past thresholds of thought
for the number of my faith is seven minus seven
as the miracles land and then they fly away
but doubt cannot wipe away their scribbles of joy
as dawn awakes the colors dormant in night
and time is a dream that imagines every change
(within the calendar are wheels within wheels
eternity being a whisper carrying beyond breezes)
some lights do not come and go by time’s rhythm
much can speed by that needs no attention
the light of the Resurrection watched by the blood

posted by John H. Doe @ 3:34 pm

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