creation
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I see the Sky clasp cymbals of the Sun,
I see the Sky clasp tambourine of the Moon,
The heads of the Stars, as states and nations
Oh, love, stir the rising strip by strip
Where Love has a breath of fresh want
Sweet suspense of her spur
Where she plays a number on me
Crimson beams alluring to a new day’s dawn
Natures greeting to a venerable world reborn
Helios again rising banishing darkness away
Reviving Gaia with an effortless coloured array
RICHES
Riches isn't
all about materialization.
Richness is
lifestyle
and divine.
The
most
valuable thangs are invisible to the naked eye.
When gods remove their mask
the face behind is no more
than a creator. An artist
on days ego is allowed to sing
becomes a creation. Breaths
spun from their own lungs
falling against the coarse rug, I feel the ripples of fear pang against my core
darting around inside of me are the remnants of thoughts
they aren’t random, yet they don’t match up
All of creation
holds
an abundance of
gorgeous gifts-
an overflow of magical
exuberance-
none are foremost
though some are special.
And so it is
with these givers of
solace and
That morning brought sight
There was color
And there was light
It would show me places I had never known
So I kept it safe for later
From the moment I wake,
Brrrr Brrrr-- snooze again
Soft carpet under foot
Ice cold water drops kiss my face good morning
Breakfast smells waft towards my nose
They tantalize my feet down
each
What lays out there
in the deep of the night
with roaring blazes of life and light
masses so big whose dance is so fine
a sweet sound of nothing
silence divine
I realize I've been staring
At the dawn of creation, as the gods formed a hundred million galaxies, there also formed with them our blazing and bold sun.
This newly formed orb began to rise from the horizon line of our Earth,
I recently realized I could re-draw all of my mythologies - after all i say never beg for power because the powerful never give or bestow power. they act in power.the powerless always has the power to do right.
The feminine energy, The mystical remedy
To all the world's problems, the Euphorian recipe.
History has a tendency of repeating itself many characters reincarnate into people with that being said there was once a man who believed that humans are all perfect in their own ways and that a human can never do any wrong until one of its daught
As I think and reflect on what my life was,
I'm glad I overcame all that this life does.
This life we live is but a dance,
Dodging grief and unsteadiness with our bare hands.
In the begining, there was an egg.
God said, “Let there be chick!”
So the egg turned into omelette.
My dear child,
I thought of you
before time existed or
darkness was created.
Before there was dirt
beneath your feet and
Earth before your eyes,
I knew you,
and I loved you
When I eat veggies,
Nature comes to my own brain,
When I drink cocoa,
I thank God that I exist.
What can explain it?
I am not an accident.
Why with randomness?
Everything has a purpose,
Many can say that Poetry is a simple concept
However, they probably don’t understand that it’s difficult
to create a piece of literature with technique, symbolism, and depth
Do they know they’ll only survive
to be shiny, broken, beautiful
shards of ACDC ground into
the soles of my feet
after we lock eyes
for the fifth time?
Sometimes it only takes one
Read me aloudFeel the familiar sensation of words often saidAnd bring me to life We living things Like to scream into a voidCold and careless to our concernsWe yell not to be heard
We created you from dust
She created man from clay
We caused you to be a creation
She released you from an open womb
With a beaming, joyful face
We created, our hands made you
Creation
from a stand point
exclusivity
sought-after man's point
rolled-up
late night jam joint
all into one
to create some sort
of fifth-dimensional meaning
Creation
Dear Water,
You have always been the love, Life of my Body.
From my very existence, I have had you,
By my side nurturing me. I could not live,
The universe,An unequivocal mess of chaotic understandingLanguage, by which, no other comparesAnd the One who authors itBy no other name than what isThe very essence of existence, language
I've had a fast kind of love
A slow kind of love
And the kind of love that you wouldn't have realized if it punch you in the jaw and sent you all the way to Japan Ha
In all honesty I am scared of myself,I think we all should be.We are creatures of creation and destructionWe never know the next thing our hands will
Tick tock, Clock, Your face faces mine
As if by some sinister design
I'm inclined to sit and watch your hand.
Placing bets like “I dare it to move”
It starts with one word.
A single, simple word that rings well in the mind
Takes it’s time to develop and before I know it
The word has found a soulmate
What if all we are,
Is the product of a dream?
Some slumbering mind ranging far,
Projecting us from the stream,
Of thought and delight
As it passes through the night?
What once began as a thought
flourished as the words were wrought
like cascading raindrops
falling from a single spot
The words my hand created
told a story that was dictated
And for every time we touched, It felt like New York was still and quiet; And Las Vegas had gone dark; Big Ben down in London stopped ticking;And the flow of Fallingwater seized; Venice stopped sinking, And Rom
As ink ridden eyes
Gaze into white skies
The world, a canvas
The painter, relentless
The brush he holds
A stroke of gold
Sneakers laced up tight,
Water bottle filled to fullest height.
It may take a drive short or long but
Always,
I long to take a hike.
Nature beckons me to explore;
What's between my legs offends you
I can see it in your fear
the way you shut us out just proves
you can't face the truth within.
We have the Universe inside us
you see it bleeding out
I feel electric walking through a park engulfed with happy princes, children skipping, people playing to their laughter. singing strings of guitars in this park the mirth of drooping spilling coins in their cases.
I wish there were a planet
where we could just grow things.
Who's we?
It's you and me.
Giving back to
creation
in it's
finest
quality.
Flowers
growing
tall
Pens are marvelous creatures, aren't they?
They live and breathe and bleed.
Oh, yes how they bleed
All over pages, endlessly marking history,
Tear down the wall
Sturdy and tall
Set firm with mortars that kept us in thrall
Blood dirt and steel
Flaming hot feel
they say God shaped us out of clay,
His breath rippling through abandoned parking lots, empty churches,
only to strike a chord, ring a bell, sing a song
The clouds detach themselves from the sky
and bind their bodies to the ground
Creating dew drops dropping down the grass
To awake in a fog, a misty glass
The affair doesn't last
They return to the sky
Chocolate dew and melted rain.
Putting all these illusions into a frame.
Art that spoke to you.
painting and then stamping your name.
They call it science but it would not be fair game.
People always say
that a picture
paints a thousand words.
But a thousand words
can paint
such a vivid picture.
I open the book
and flip the pages.
My mind can
fantasize scenes
The sun, the moon, the stars and the sky; such beautiful creation, only a master can have such imagination.
My doodles have moved from pictures to words,
Evolution of expression -
Is fragmented language easier to understand than scratchy images?
Awesome are the things
Made with Love Creator God
Has given to us.
The sky, the stars, and
Caresses from the bright moon
Are just a small piece.
In sunshine or rainIn pleasure or pain
In trial or triumphYou are my Godand You are enough.
You make the day,and end the night,Thank you Lordfor my religious rite.
Random acts of kindness to the strangers we don’t know.
Anonymously letting our secret personality show.
We are humans that have universes living within.
Palette of gray starts the scene,
Hinting white, but never leaving black.
Find a section, add more white.
Now a drop of yellow, a touch of blue
Blending and dabbing, and then lastly,
The beauty of the sky, a lake of blue
to own a piece of this glory beyond.
God's creation gathered round He knows who,
on the eve of the beginning he dawned.
A forest of majestic green wonder
I am an artistic soul. I sing, I dance, I make digital art. I am a diverse homosexual male With the essence of a female A flare of masculinity And a celestial heart.
As a child I never really noticed differences or imperfections in the people around me. It has never once crossed my mind why I might be better than someone else, and it most likely never will.
Everything is created
In a Bang
We bang
to create life
The Universe bangs to create Life
We bang ingredients to build a cake
We bang our heads to make a mistake.
Everything is just a bang.
Imagine the moon explodes into a firework.
Imagine the sun falls to ashes.
Imagine this world as if it weren/t what it seemed.
Create the beauty from what you're given,
and make it your own.
As the sun rises and my mind awakes
The thoughts start cooking and actions take place
They digest down, through my body they go, wanting more
Feeling limited because I want to do more
As I drift off to sleep,
my mind enters into a door of dreams,
a door filled with adventures for me.
Suddenly, I find myself in the sky in marvelous flight
Seeing the world from up so high.
In her hands is a ball of clay
She rolls it in her palms
And with her breath, warms it
Making it easier to mold.
With her thumb and index finger
She makes each arm and leg
After being told I could not bare a child,
by God's good grace I was blessed with a miracle.
How could this tiny human being be growing inside of me?
Oh, how do I wonder?
Who am I in the world we see,
Who am I in the world we percieve,
Why I'm no more important than you on lucky number 3,
I'm just a little something called me,
my scars tell me
you're too much
you'll never be enough
you're not pretty enough
you're never going to be good enough
and for awhile I let my scars define me
The heart beats like a thousand drums
When in the face of inquiry to another
A yearning soul heard over melodious hums
When starting out
We are like a cocoon
All wraped up in love
Blind to our surroundings
As time goes on we start to break free
We find out that our cocoon of love
Was never what it seemd
Create a world that is your own.
In any time, screen or stone.
Life is clay and the living are the sculptors.
With several personalities,gentile or vulgar.
We are our own artists.
Robin Stumpfig
Rendering the common peace
Striking deep
Saving the light
Forging hope
My mother of Resolution
A mother of hope
A listener of wisdom
My detective of crime
Understanding of all imperfections
Loving, caring, compassionate
The white
Hills and
Valleys,
All the
Grooves and
Notches,
Are spread
Clear
Before
Your eye.
The same white all
Around you.
Then a
Brown river
Your ideas made me, desgined me.
The paper was my womb and the ink nourished me.
When i was ready, you P U S H H H H ED me.
out.
My spine showed my name. Given.
My cover reflected you.
Born of water,
And of ice,
Warm exterior to suffice.
Raised from dust,
Breath of life,
Born into eternal strife.
Set up walls,
I don't understand myself.I look in the mirror and have no idea how as to how the sparkle in my eye got there.I can't even begin to imagine how my soul works or my mine or my state of being.
Starlight trickles down the latticework
As haughty hearse tires grind past astral asphalt
As though recklessly inclined
To ferry death’s last claimed
Across timeworn cosmic avenues
Across God made time
Tiny little painter man paint my skies so blue
tiny little painter man paint my dreams come true.
For the things I wish to do I can not see
so tiny little painter man, paint it clear for me?
Color’d Shadows
They hate us
They love us
We were created by them, society
If we talk to them, they’ll hate us
If we help them, they’ll hate us
The idea lies inside the self,
For we believe the universe is inside of us.
We want to explore all we experience,
Because we without ends want to understand why everything outside us exists.
What is that tiny speck of dirtIn the distance?That tiny, microscopic,Beautiful speck of dirt
See I came down for a purpose. See as I came down I did not hover, I slammed!The ground broke down in a shatter when I landed. See, I came to bring peace to my loved ones and war to my enemies.
a cluttered studio
full of only art
how does so many ideas exist?
we sit down at a worn wooden table
pulling out some moist red clay
A voice inside a soulThe emotion, the strength, the hidden confidence That sometimes never releases; or is trapped on paper By the pen that squeezes out the voice onto a sheet ...Then another sheet, another sheet!It becomes journal of dreams we wa
There she is, a girl all alone
Others let out, an annoyed moan
She sits, her head down, in a book
Other play angry birds on a nook
She opens a notebook, takes out a pen
In the darkness--
The space between stars--
Creation's manifest
In mysteries stark.
Without light, unseen:
Dark matters wrought.
Caged birds caw to see
And speculate silhouette-marks:
Poems capture beauty
They describe a living scene
They talk about the real world
Things everyone can see
If you've ever seen a sunset
Splashes of color in the sky
Or gazed upon a rainbow,
On a grey day filled with rain that never stopsAs my heart screams but can't be heard, time continues to clockI have news--good, bad, happy, and sadYet I have no one around to tell them as they're too busy musedWith their pleasures and ecstasy, y
Out of my way
Out of my skin
Fire flows through my brain
Let me go back to my time
The time I went to fly
Fly higher than the sky
Where I met strangers
They were neither red nor black
Born into the world
Untouched and unstained by harm and knowledge
Still clean, fresh, innocent
But then the time starts there
I grow, I change, I alter, I mutate
I create conscious strokes on my blank canvas
I write, therefore I am free
free to be me
i live in a country
with freedom of expression and
I choose to use it.
I need no therapy sessions,
write my own questions
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
Beneath the deep blue sky
Lies the moon and sun
Speaking of the many days
In which are yet to come.
Listening to the silence
Hoping that it stays
But knowing that the peace
I shaped a universe today,
just a little more than I had the day before.
I added rain on another planet,
far from the plot,
and though the souls on earth will never see the rain,
they will feel it.
So much talent,
And I know I have the energy
I see beauty in everything.
In every blade of grass
In every piece of trash,
I see intricacy.
The problem is finding the time,
The time to create.
They say that all things
Had used to be combined.
Together in God's world,
Existing freely under the Son.
But then one day,
A great ball appeared,
With a brand new kind of life
Living under His eye.
My soul is river stone
And fire fed
Dragon eyed and embered
Lurking in mountain’s jeweled gold
Soaring on iron wings
The beast in me has woken up. The howling of the light that shone through my soul untied the knot of frenetic encapsulation.
Creation is unstable, a question in the dark
What am I supposed to say?
With hands that lack talent
With a mind with too many possibilities;
He has all these opportunities but does he see the things he needs? Does he know the love he shares is worth a lot more than he can compare?
Creation
Of everything,
of nothing
Birth of lives,
Called upon by lightning;
A connection unbroken
Unexplained,
undefined,
unmatched.
One touch
Creates one world
Upon this day hence forth I decree
The clarity of life set through eternity
Unsettled , torn, weary and worn
The aspects to creation settled and born
Unsettled beyond the flow of time,
The creature stirs in its prime,
Clawing and clashing unto the Veil,
With sights blazon and a destructive trail.
When God made man
He was created similar.
Not the same,
But close enough that it was Good.
When God made woman
He unearthed the buried heartbeat,
Taking a rib from his cage
To give him someone to love
Darkness cages, while canvas white
is his only light as he avoids traces
of human life. He ignores splattered paint, dripping
brushes, and sickening scent of mildew and waste.
A being but not of flesh
He is existence
He is truth
He is all
The melody he sings
Graces the ears
Like honey the tongue
A fresh current sprung
Spreading, reaching, growing, flowing—unheard
Oh dear precious,
How precious you are and beauty that consists within thee.
Just like a stamp, pressed hard to a piece of paper, leaving the marks identical mirror image, such as you, a mirror image of me.
Laying here, delighting in the warmth of the sun You made
Receiving Your tender kisses as the rays hug the backs of my legs
These sticks that I walk on
These soles that give me balance
