Bullion Grey Poems

did we fall, or grow,
did we sin, or miss the mark?
did we make a mistake, or error on some part.
did we cross the line, or step beyond our place?
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There are no poetic ways to explain the life we live, or is there?
How can one say, in poetic terms, what one feels?
Why are the poetic meanings here one instant, and gone the next?
Who has an ongoing poetic way of communicating?
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Attention, attention,
look with your ears,
hear with your heart,
feel with your spirit.
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Cheap melodramas play out in so many live's.
Recounts feed in stories and
in pitiful poems with nihilistic lies.
Equipose is dropped,
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Is it time for a Higher Consciousness in our art?
What are the effects of letting our feelings (low-selves) dictate to our pens? Does it bring feelings that awaken the Pain-Body of those whom it reaches? Does it cause others to become engrossed so that when they return to their non-reading self, they are easily brought into their selves of which only know suffering?

It is a question I have been working on. It is a valid point in that I personally know this experience - through reading, music, movies and the vibes of others.
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It was said of him and his ugly self, was caused from sin. A glimpse of hell, that he’d never be for good. While in his mother’s pregnant womb, an elephant kicked her - and cursed him doom, his life worse than any should. She gave him up when he was born, from this his heart was deeply torn, a baby not even a mother would have loved.

His head engrossed with heavy liquids, his body boasted bones that twisted, to him this life was unfairly shoved. Innocent put in a traveling show, there in misery he spent many a year. People would come & spit and leer, laugh and joke, poke and jeer then at night he’d fall asleep in tears.
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As one flower blooms, so another fades,
As one soldier kills, so the other is killed.
The sun shines on one, as it withdraws from another,
Water flows from an inner spring, another place it has no presence.
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Some say it is possible, some say it might be.
Some feel it is plausible, some just can't see.
Some it could be true, some say its ok,
some its nothing new, yes some are this way.
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Would you visit the clouds?
Would you attend to the poor?
Can you take a moment to contribute something of Love and Compassion to a stranger?
These quest-ions are posed to me every week.
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