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The Tunnel (primal poetry phase 2)

The drum, the only drum
Slow relaxation
Irregular breathing
Regular breathing
Slow breathing
Shallow breathing
I am barely alert
Above dreams
I am in a tunnel
I become the tunnel
Shifting sided to side
Up and down
Images appear
Some are held for moments
Some come and go as a dream
Feel suspended
Then not suspended
Focus
Is there something to see?
I am in a tunnel
The tunnel is me
Feel the movement
That is all
That is the focus
The movement

Workshop: 

WANT TO MEET ME IN HEAVEN

WANT TO MEET ME IN HEAVEN
PLEASE JOIN IN QUEUE

When in heaven
We all foolishly think
of enjoyment after life
when we ignore our hubby and wife
on blessed ma earth
Our real heaven since birth

Amen
Go to
H E A V E N

When in heaven
Heaven wards
heavenly me
When in heaven
A Palace in heavenly a gift

When in heaven
you can have a palace
as big as itself

Stich Mouth

thumb twiddlers
we write from hunger

poets
chirping birds
stich mouth chirr
pay attention to me

every poem
a song of need
a murky spray
in zebra tights
hugging the contours of an ass
stand in's and cut outs
that call please look

SAND COVERED RECOLLECTION (July Contest)

The sun shone down unbearably
on the July southern beach.
There was nowhere that I'd rather be
than with my love in easy reach.

The teeny boppers all strolled by
as near nude as the laws allow
(yes, I watched with hooded eye)
I wasn't old as I am now.

But every time my gaze came back
to my wife right there next to me
with her eyes closed while on her back
there where the land married the sea.

Owelled

There once was a man from Lowelled
He lived in a cold little howelled
His girlfriend was Pat
Together they sat
Did nothing but slowly get owelled

The Girl From Kentucky

There once was a girl from Kentucky
Who had a fast horse she called Lucky
In high hopes he would race
It was such a disgrace
The Derby to him was horsepucky

Prince

In the dark your love is the light
He was my thoughts
I held a mirror and saw
That I was becoming more like him
And I loved us

THE CRICKET'S TRANCE

Cricket, cricket softly singing
the same two notes time after time
in autumn with the chill it's bringing
an even cadence without rhyme.

I sit here waiting on a deer.
Not even aware I am listening
to the tune I'm lead to hear
while below a stream flows gently glistening.

And it just keeps going on
the sound leading me to almost sleep.
Then suddenly that sound is gone
By a tree frog's baser peep.

Paradise what

PARADISE
This poem is an outburst of a cloud of thunder of appreciation, by someone who is a wonder Rest you may all read onnnn

Where is paradise friend
someone asked
a masked NEOpoet like me
replied

Where else!

The winding path to paradise
you are welcome to
where human angels
as you know reside

I ain't an angel
but a simple poet of peace
who upon soles of human kind
adoration, appreciation only preach

Advice to his child

It is not about money
or the beauty of the cloth,

it is not the way others point
either to praise, or to shame,

it is not what all the world
in all its wonder can convey.

It’s more that deep deep center
which collects the world to you.

It’s less those things coming in,
as light moving out from you.

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