Celestial Palms 

The tops of the tall trees applauded their wind filled leaves, and as butterfly nets, we gathered the words to open the other’s heart out of thin air. Tongues flapping as translucent wings kissed by constellation starlight’s grace. We spoke of the sky, tried to be as giving as the sun. Warm.

He said to me “You are an explosion of joy.” Then I began to ponder, perhaps the sun thinks itself to be cold. Perhaps it is the vastness, the distance between bodies, that alters perception. Confuses one long enough to not see how they shine in the hearts and minds of others. Perhaps the sun thinks itself to be cold –

and you know, just sits there, giving life to dreams hiding behind secret shadows full grown, by stepping across the horizon of a despair filled mourning, singing to the moon. 

And just maybe the moon thinks itself to be a bright shining star. Unaware that its body is borrowed, it fashions itself to be the brightest light in the night sky. 

Shhh. Please don’t break her illusion, don’t wake the moon up anymore than you would yourself. Her lips sing symphony keys that demystify the water labyrinth, and turns doubt into a mist over a lake by morning. 

And what is transformation, but a gentle release of a swiftly forgotten ember from the camp fire. Where the souls of nature spirits dance as cold stars, finally remembering who they are. 

Kevon Simpson 2017

Midwife of Secrets

Words are written
all the way inside
on the back corner
of my heart.

It’s not even,
off-balance it is,
not written,
to confuse you.

You will wonder
just why it was carved
that particular way
on such ageless stone.

Far enough in
each comes to see
where I run out of paper
becomes the beating

of another’s barren cave.
The birth of a new poem.
Write it.

Kevon Simpson 2017 ©

Creamsicle

Orange has new meaning these days
tears that melt off of detained faces
they are not crying, they are changing states
a piece of the dream is moving across borders
from solid to liquid like science class
its just chemistry and math
you know
Nothing racist or personal,
and “we are all one anyway”
they say this loudly
in a way that makes them
forget the eyes of that child
The one who said
“I swear to God we have nothing to eat.”

Kevon Simpson 2017 ©

I Remember You (Ode to Ayahuasca and the Indigenous)

How does this medicine
help me forgive?
Pain turned to light
where the sorrow used to live.
And even though my habbits
aren’t completely changed
I’ve found a love I can’t forget it
it extends across the cosmic range
Where stars give birth to butterflies
and other beautiful things
Quantum particle of my heart
it’s light that makes me sing

Oh Mother Ayahuasca
Do you know what you saved me from?
I was trapped in a maze of mirrors
into your arms I run
Oh Mother Ayahuasca
Do you know what you made me feel?
there’s a soul somewhere inside of me
the skin of my ego peeled.

and my heart is naked
in the middle of the night
it beats so perfect
I am freed from my plight
my heart is naked
in the middle of the night
it beats so perfect
I am freed from my plight

De ja vu, De ja Vu
Is just a soul memory
Do you remember me?
Do you

remember

me?

I

remember

you.

I remember you.

Kevon Simpson 2016 ©

Mindful Shaman

Eyes wide open,
not knowing they’re asleep,
so many prefer the token,
compassionate tears I weep.
 
Saying “he’s too sensitive”
but see, it is not so.
I just love you so deeply,
show up for your show.
 
See how they wait,
clapping before you arrive,
set your sight straight,
alive but not alive?
 
My goodness, much has happened,
and I know that happened too,
but excuses are excuses,
time to see you.

Kevon Simpson ©2016

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©

Help

Too afraid to need people, too afraid to love
Too afraid to need people, too afraid to hug
Too afraid to be the one on receiving end
Too afraid to be the one, truly a friend

So, we disguise how we need people
With clever little games
Do this and do that for me now
Confusing all the names

Who is it that is owed, if everything is one
Who made the palms of hands
Perhaps that which made the drums
You are harmony made of rhythm
Pretending you don’t need music
So, alone in silence you sit and sulk
Just about to lose it

Blaming all the world
For every problem you face
Still, my compassion remains infinite
A divine gift of grace
I didn’t come to harm you
I only came to care
Now you send those broken wounds
Launched through silent air

How is it that you think
The energy was missed
I know you need me too
For you, a silent  kiss
Blown from hand
In the realm of thought
where all things begin
The reason why you lose
Too focused on the win
The sideways secret game
To get more than you give
Taking food from another
Expecting them to live

You don’t see the pain you cause
Only what’s done to you
How can you let anyone in
With a barbed wire point of view

Too afraid to need people, too afraid to love
Too afraid to need people, too afraid to hug
Too afraid to be the one on receiving end
Too afraid to be the one, truly a friend

Kevon Simpson 2015 ©

Diaspora

Spraying like spore prints across the land
our power lotus flower like made to sprout in mud
the muck of our forgotten woe separated from us
by the use of clever language that cleaves at self-worth
our jeans hang as low as our spirits as our genes cry
ancestors turning in their graves twisting double helix like
embarrassed to be a part of the present beheading
they are still lynching us for sport.

Kevon Simpson © 2015

Addiction Prayer

This is a prayer for all my friends who are struggling with addiction
for all who have felt the weight grind into their shoulders
until theirs arms fall off in fetal position,
holding on to the air because there’s nothing left
inside of the body they once knew.
This prayer is for you,
silent struggler of secrets,
with claws strong enough to keep you glued
to an old perception that says you are far from God.

This prayer is a crossing signal sending you love,
so that you may cross the street of yourself,
so that you may meet your beauty and strength again.
Shall the arch of the rainbows bend through the combination lock of your chest,
where you have saved too many things in boxes
and forgot your own packaging while keeping everyone else’s secure.
This poem is a prayer to remind you that you’re worthy of being loved more.

You dress up so nicely and smell so good,
but it is the pain in your aura that plays the strings in my heart.
This poem is a prayer for new start,
so that you may free yourself from self sabotage
and how it can look like smooth sailing.
A prayer for God to hold the railing of your heart
as you walk up the steps of love, light,
creativity, passion and purpose unfolding.

This prayer is a thank you for all you have done to keep your heart safe,
but it is a reminder to remove the rusty chains around your ankles and wrists,
that limit your reach to the ceiling, when you have inherited the entire sky.

This prayer is even for the tears that dry before you cry,
tears you want no one else to see,
my vision is beyond this plane,
and your beauty can not hide from me.

This poem is a prayer for all my friends who are struggling with addiction,
who have reached past the 40 year mark,
to find confusion and dreams squeezed of their joy.

I dreamed of a laughing Buddha that said to me “Infinite Second Chances.”

So remove the fear of failure, forgive yourself, and try again.
This poem is a prayer calling for the presence of your highest friend,
I call that presence here now and all our ancestors, angels, and guides,
to keep you illuminated in the knowingness that all is one,
so even your healing is not separate from the soul power inside you.
This poem is a prayer for all my friends suffering from addiction
and I know you’ll make it through.

by Kevon Simpson  © 2014