Be born today. Allow yourself to be born. Birthing is difficult for the one being born, and the one holding the experience in compassionate care long enough for you to pass through. Fear not what is on the other side of being born so much that you stay in the tunnel, the in between of becoming. The butterfly is useless in the cocoon, or perhaps not useless – food for another being. That which does not become, goes swiftly to decay. The cycle must continue. It’s not that you have to know better, you just have to remember better. It’s not that time waits for no one, it’s that you are time, and you’ve forgotten the depth of the part you play in creating the beauty you have come to admire as something outside of yourself. Words can forever only touch, they can only hint, they can only point in the direction towards the images of the infinite. You are one with it all, one with the infinite, so the voice you hear in your head is also that, you should follow your own advice, the wise part of yourself that stands still in the middle of crumbling chaos. Stop silencing that, stop allowing that voice to get lost in the noise. There is no such thing as noise, every thing has purpose, what annoys you in regards to what you call noise, is that it takes you deeper away from hearing your own inner silent note (words fail me here, for if a note is silent can it be called such?). Make time for hearing it against all odds. But here we are again, you can not make time, you are it. Remember that you can hear the wisdom of your very own soul, remember that it has value, remember that no one can reveal that value to you but you. That is why you are here, to remember that value, and to sing it out into the world. I am not a writer. I am writing. Not as an action, as a state of being. I am writing, I am it. Who cares? What are you…
Category: Spiritual
Words for the soul.
Recipe: Becoming a Wild Flower in a Paved World
You will need a few things
and you have none of them right now.
Read that lie again, and erase it from your mind.
That is step one, overcoming the lie
that you are not enough.
Skipping that step,
will burn everything before you begin.
You are not clever enough
to thwart the laws of manifestation,
and why would you want to?
To prove what? That you are alone?
See your self-masochism for what it is.
The universe is you,
Stop denying your own support.
Because you hurry through so much
I find pleasure in repeating my lines
a sentence is easier than an incarnation
so I write to remind you
and to free my soul.
See your self-masochism for what it is.
The universe is you,
Stop denying your own support.
The time between steps varies
from wild flower to wild flower.
The past serves only as compost.
A summer bloomed orchid
and a plastic house plant
will never be alike.
Celebrate the real in you,
let rotting things rot,
and allow the melting of the facade.
Open the window of your eyes
and let the stinging soot out,
allow it not to cloud your future anymore.
You must find the other hippies.
Listen to what they have to say.
Some have grown up,
and stopped wearing their flowers,
they conformed out of safety,
but they give themselves away,
via the hope they still have for the world.
They are the first to help in a disaster.
They can’t help it. Thank God.
Broaden your concept of God,
to fit more than the people,
who look just like your tribe.
All humans look alike,
stop killing our rain forests
and its animals.
And now for Step 2
This thing here we call life,
is all about you,
and indeed the butterfly too.
Finish the rest of this poem,
with the delicate actions of your life.
Let Bake for an entire age.
Serving Size: Planetary.
Kevon Simpson 2015©
Grandma’s Combs
Those cheap little combs
their teeth stung you know
little vampires of the scalp
nap eradicators they were
all for just 99 cents
back when gum was a penny
the sugar never lasted
eat another one fast
this comb has missing teeth
grandma says my mouth
will suffer the same fate
but this gum is so good
and so cheap like this grease
naps so tight they need water
I don’t unravel easy
sting of scalp plucked
bald chicken bravery
deep fried soul
tender and juicy heart
that metaphor was stupid
but you get it
tired of being too careful
thick brows trimmed
photo-shopped thoughts written
too careful without the mistakes
the comb loses more teeth
grandma dies
I remember her laugh and sneeze
so damn loud
Hurricane Gilbert loud
a Jamaican reference
yes I am that too, spiced
curry and ginger
warrior blood simmered
finger still on trigger
birds are too beautiful
to be wild they say
the vapor of clouds
taste like jet plane exhaust
this is supposed to be
going somewhere
but it isn’t really
like the parts of myself
I keep chewing off
to be perfect
sloppy life, sloppy words
no meter, chaos
all beautiful
I’ve stopped combing
through myself
with a fine tooth
comb
such sweet room
to b r e a t h e
I miss you Granny.
Kevon Simpson 2015 ©
To My Keepers
Gate Keeper
Wisdom Keeper
Keeper of the key of words
How you open a chord, tuning
As forks that vibrate together
Familiar sadness, familiar joy, unlocked.
You are an opener of worlds
Gate Keeper
Wisdom Keeper
Keeper of the way of words
And how they sway to say the same thing
Thing same the say to sway they how and
Even in reverse
The clear is made message
Or is the message made clear
Or is it both?
The hummingbird
That flies backwards
The sunlight stings
Failed suicide eye
Wing of dusted moth
Flame of your soul
You are worthy of remembering
Gate Keeper
Wisdom Keeper
Keeper of the Key of words
This one is for you
When you wake in the morning
Flooded by the sadness
Of a drowned world
When you remember
That the salt in the water
Is really the tears of our children
As we lay on the sand
It dries on our skin
Summer isn’t the only season
Some wounds are like winter
Frozen hearts
Tears that fall as snowflakes
How many times do you have to hear it?
Your beauty is beyond adjectives
Gate Keeper
Wisdom Keeper
Do you remember who you are?
Fire in your soul
Repetition, unravels
The thread of forgetting
You are made to melt things
You are made to thaw
To make minds feel like spring
Keeper of the way of words
Stop playing with your time here
Clean your glasses
Cleanse the lens of your heart
See yourself clearly
Orchid Butterfly
Maker of nectar
We taste with our ears
Can’t spit out what was fed
Careful the words you say to yourself
When no one is watching
I can hear you not believing in you
I can feel you not believing in you
The madness of the world
Is you Not believing in You
That secret whispering dream
That you think is going to fail
Is Asking for you to Believe in it Fully
Wisdom Keeper
Gate Keeper
Keeper of the way of words
Awaken.
Kevon Simpson 2015 ©
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Morning Meditation Message 16
We’ve forgotten how to be on top of one another, which was once an integral part of our survival as a species. We migrated with little room for sleep, everything we owned on our backs, and now we can’t even sit on the crowded train together. We have lost our way, traveled miles away from the truth. What is the truth? The fact that we need each other. The fact that you choose lonely and really want love is masochistic. Stop killing yourself. Love calls all the missing pieces, reminding each that it is important. The language is love, light, and sound. It is what you feel, what you see, and what you hear. A little noise is not going to hurt you, and a little touch is not going to hurt you. When was the last time you abruptly bumped into yourself and wanted to be with you – that sweet frightening beauty that you are? It is time to remember that you are one with it all. Stop being annoyed by the small things in the mess you have created of your own life. It is okay, we have all made a mess of our lives, and the planet. Together we remember, together we take action. Step one is to remember by waking up, step two is to clean, step three is to ask for help. Change the order if you must. The formula is non-linear. This is all happening too fast to cry. Too fast to cry. Too fast to cry.