April 2015
Gravitator I seek to stir the soul, not nudge the body, but to move The spirit from pattern depth to orbital complacency To be a lifter of spirits, that is the best profession! Its on emotional whims that hearts get set and courses made, Climb with me, cloud by cloud, until we reach a place of lunar specificity Explode your earth shell and take your new form, the one spirit form, and We shall galactically roam Let's dance around that giant black stamp that they call the cosmos, And use the sun like a lamppost, To which our souls can dredge Perhaps being a man is less important when you cease to be one? But one thing's for certain, Earth feels like a tennis ball and much less like home What more can a human do but dictate a chartered course? One that was led by so on and so forth, until one day we explode, But I've already nether-realm surfaced and it has more harvest in its course Than any reaping Earth has sown,
Oh Earth, how you'd grow in beauty, but now to space, How you would only contain and erase me I am one glowing starlight, reaching out with feathery palms, rushing my supernova blood, to gravitate, to initiate my life, From dawn swept desire too satisfying fire, I rage like a thousand suns painted on a surface three miles deep, I can illuminate anything I set my mind too Blessed relief for the cold soul, Or maybe blessed disaster? One must roam free in this life, or be set free by posterity, Do such or be your own captor The only chains are the impossible, that which we place boundaries on, But my good man have you actually seen? Place yourself where you can doubt no longer, And become the sun and the sea, Both boundless and mystical, There's nothing beyond belief.
by Erik Estabrook
Chill Factor Ice crystal chunks Careening off branches Thunking roof, ground, car-My heart. Gray and cold encouraging Snuggling Huddling Burying Myself In a pile of Comforters, pillows, Blankets, quilts, and Thick fuzzy socks On my husband's Side of the bed, Where I feel Safe and nearly warm.
By Carolann Edscorn
Simple Questions We are all one. You and I are each An individualized expression Of the same ultimate being Or divine source. You and I each Have total access To the ultimate being Or divine source, Let us call it God. You and I are God Expressing with Our own identity. Our access To the complete Power of God Only limited By our humanity Which masks Our awareness Of this Truth.
We are all one, And you are me In your own form, And I love you And accept you To the extent that I love And accept myself. So let us say That I know myself As an expression of God And see you As an expression of God And I love God; Is there a possibility For a bonded coupling That does not detract From our God awareness? Is there a purpose In this coupling? Is this bonding Relevant when we are
Fulfilling our human needs, Irrelevant when we are Fully actualized In our spiritual expressions Which recognize All beings as one? All beings being one, We are already connected. What more is there To desire? What does a soft touch Add to my well being? How does a kiss Bring me to awakening? How does the feeling That I am complete Come from your intent eyes? I only know that it does.
By George Pavlovich
We Come Into This World We come into this world with only the gravity that love provides Searching eternally from the moment of the union of two sides Moving in directions unknown by far to many to feel it's warmth Forming our reality to satisfy only its connection to the source Right or wrong matters little as we move to satisfy our thirst Seeds of pure love planted by people who adored us most Replicating the thoughts and behavior completes the circuit from the parents we adore Anything Counter to those actions breaks the smiles from their faces, striking deep at our core The pain of disappointing others would always keep me sealed in place Never admitting to myself or the world what I felt behind this face
Wear the right clothes or perform at the table Guaranteed that the transfer of love would always be stable Do what was expected when family or friends were watching The love of my parents would never be interrupted Being myself held too much risk, not of living in the error But Not feeling the love of the ones who made me was my only terror. Being me was only an option if it was in line With the ones who loved me for that brief moment of time I don't know who I am at this moment in my life in any situation All I know is that I still search for that love that I felt from my parents' validation I go through the motions and then look around to see Why can't I feel the same love I felt before when all I feel is empty Maybe they loved me in a way that turned out to be a colossal mistake Was I the person I was meant to be or am I buried deep beneath this fake
By Thomas James
Times Traveled Seeing the hallway with many doors, Seeing the one placed before, That ever revolving door Windows painted scene by scene, Perhaps the world as I know is a distant memory Slideshow eyes, wander and pine, They display and relay images of love intertwined A person can take a beauty and turn her into filth-shop horror Or you can connect with her beauty and attach it to yours All the times traveled into special landscapes, they were without place Guess what? "They didn't need to be" An aura of wonder attached to a face, Or an aura of confidence that goes unmisplaced Keep that ever-satiating beauty, Keep it as still as the dead of night, Glow with it dear, then grow with it as you would a bird in flight.
Think about me as something that coincides with happiness, and I too will make myself eternally happy Think about me as something that coincides with devotion, and I will be as devoted as a farmer to their best soil Think of me not and‌.
Desolation is no forward trend but I see through these cylinder pines, and they ask me, Where does love reside? Love itself in all its merit, Is something crafted with the spirit, Its only as real as an object's reception, You see love resides in nothing, It is a fine brew naturally crafted, by whims desires and wits fancy, and love resides in me.
by Erik Estabrook
Trying I want to fix that for you, And you agree, against Your inclination to say no.
And I am missing something Not knowing what to do — when I know I can fix it, if you let me.
I assure you that you can't lose Because I know that I can fix it, If you let me.
What I should know is That you decide what to fix, And you must wish to let me.
But now it is no better, And yet no worse. But somehow You seem the worse for my effort.
And knowing that, I might have you, instead I now find you are missing. By George Pavlovich
AND THEN THERE WAS GODFREY ‘You look like happy birds in there.’ Unusual greeting by the gas station Attendant. Processing, literal birds? Nope. Birds, like in a British pub? Nope. Godfrey offers a wee smile, Gazes at the sky of Increasing cloudiness. Entirety of self realizes This is A Moment. I hand him the payment card: ‘Please fill the tank with regular.’ He moves softly, quietly, Doing his jobWhich is not his job. Returning to my lowered window He gives a little cough, Proceeds with his heart.
‘When I was eight years old, I decided to make Everyone in the world My friend. People think I pump gas, But all I am is an Aviation Event.’ Aha, my brain proceeds, Method to madness to meaning. Birds fly. Birds soar. Birds sing. Birds make nests. My brain proceeds but Godfrey is not done. ‘Now folk don’t see me, They see the gas pump. They judge me. But I am not down here. I am soaring. I am making friends.’ The last tank of petrol On the last day of traveling On the last leg of the journey Yields another blessing on top of A thousand blessings in a Mere two weeks.
It is easy to make eye contact With this Aviation Event. It is easy to smile With this Aviation Event. It is easy to cry a bit With this Aviation Event. The pump clicks off. The chocolate gentleman Of soft voice and white beard Hands me the card and receipt. ‘Yes,’ he states, ‘I am making progress.’ Indeed. Godfrey has two new friends. ‘God bless you Godfrey.’ ‘God bless you too.’ It is only then I realize that, On the Garden State Parkway, In the midst of crushing rush hour, We were, most unusually, The only car at the pumps.
By CarolAnn Edscorn
We We are so scarred We are so scared We have been classified We have been nullified We don't have symptoms We have characteristics We are not meant to be cured We were created to be us We should not be put down We have to be emancipated We are singularly significant We must be fearless We must fight for ourselves and each other We are powerful We need to wake up
By Thomas James
April 2015