April 2015

Gravitator

I seek to stir the soul, not nudge the body, but to moveThe 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 tooBlessed 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 FactorIce crystal chunksCareening off branchesThunking roof, ground, car--My heart.Gray and cold encouragingSnugglingHuddlingBuryingMyselfIn a pile ofComforters, pillows,Blankets, quilts, andThick fuzzy socksOn my husband'sSide of the bed,Where I feelSafeandnearlywarm.

By Carolann Edscorn

Simple Questions We are all one.You and I are eachAn individualized expressionOf the same ultimate beingOr divine source. You and I eachHave total accessTo the ultimate beingOr divine source,Let us call it God. You and I are GodExpressing withOur own identity.Our accessTo the completePower of GodOnly limitedBy our humanityWhich masksOur awarenessOf this Truth.

We are all one,And you are meIn your own form,And I love youAnd accept youTo the extent that I loveAnd accept myself. So let us sayThat I know myselfAs an expression of GodAnd see youAs an expression of GodAnd I love God; Is there a possibilityFor a bonded couplingThat does not detractFrom our God awareness?Is there a purposeIn this coupling?Is this bondingRelevant when we are

Fulfilling our human needs,Irrelevant when we areFully actualizedIn our spiritual expressionsWhich recognizeAll beings as one? All beings being one,We are already connected.What more is thereTo desire?What does a soft touchAdd to my well being?How does a kissBring me to awakening?How does the feelingThat I am completeCome from your intent eyes? I only know that it does. By George Pavlovich

We Come Into This WorldWe come into this world with only the gravity that love providesSearching eternally from the moment of the union of two sidesMoving in directions unknown by far to many to feel it's warmthForming our reality to satisfy only its connection to the source Right or wrong matters little as we move to satisfy our thirstSeeds of pure love planted by people who adored us mostReplicating 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 placeNever admitting to myself or the world what I felt behind this face

Wear the right clothes or perform at the tableGuaranteed that the transfer of love would always be stableDo what was expected when family or friends were watchingThe love of my parents would never be interrupted

Being myself held too much risk, not of living in the errorBut 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 timeI 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' validationI 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 emptyMaybe 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 horrorOr you can connect with her beauty and attach it to yours

All the times traveled into special landscapes, they were without placeGuess what? "They didn't need to be"

An aura of wonder attached to a face, Or an aura of confidence that goes un-misplaced

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 happyThink about me as something that coincides with devotion,and I will be as devoted as a farmer to their best soilThink of me not and….

Desolation is no forward trendbut 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, againstYour inclination to say no. I assure you that you can't loseBecause I know that I can fix it,If you let me. But now it is no better,And yet no worse. But somehowYou seem the worse for my effort.

And I am missing somethingNot knowing what to do — when I knowI can fix it, if you let me. What I should know isThat you decide what to fix,And you must wish to let me. And knowing that,I might have you, insteadI now find you are missing.

By George Pavlovich

‘When I was eight years old,I decided to make Everyone in the worldMy 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 butGodfrey 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 petrolOn the last day of travelingOn the last leg of the journeyYields another blessing on top ofA thousand blessings in a Mere two weeks.

It is easy to make eye contactWith this Aviation Event.It is easy to smileWith this Aviation Event.It is easy to cry a bitWith this Aviation Event.The pump clicks off.The chocolate gentlemanOf soft voice and white beardHands 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

AND THEN THERE WAS GODFREY ‘You look like happy birds in there.’Unusual greeting by the gas stationAttendant.

Processing, literal birds?Nope.Birds, like in a British pub?Nope.Godfrey offers a wee smile,Gazes at the sky ofIncreasing cloudiness. Entirety of self realizesThis is A Moment.

I hand him the payment card:‘Please fill the tank with regular.’He moves softly, quietly,Doing his job-Which is not his job.

Returning to my lowered windowHe gives a little cough,Proceeds with his heart.

WeWe are so scarredWe are so scaredWe have been classifiedWe have been nullifiedWe don't have symptomsWe have characteristicsWe are not meant to be curedWe were created to be usWe should not be put downWe have to be emancipatedWe are singularly significantWe must be fearlessWe must fight for ourselvesand each otherWe are powerfulWe need to wake up

By Thomas James