life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

freedom is never cheap

Either the world is coming together
or else the world is falling apart—
here—now—along these letters,
against the walls of every heart.

Today, tomorrow, within its weather,
the end or beginning’s about to start—
the world impossibly coming together
or very possibly falling apart.

Now the lovers’ mouths are open—
maybe the miracle’s about to start:
the world within us coming together,
because all around us it’s falling apart.

Even as they speak, he wonders,
even as the fear departs:
Is that the world coming together?
Can they keep it from falling apart?

The image, gradually, is growing sharper;
now the sound is like a dart:
It seemed their world was coming together,
but in fact it was falling apart.

That’s the nightmare, that’s the terror,
that’s the Isaac of this art—
which sees that the world might come together
if only we’re willing to take it apart.

The dream, the lure, isn’t an answer
that might be plotted along some chart—
as we know the world that’s coming together
within our knowing’s falling apart.
“Song of the Shattering Vessels” by Peter Cole

I try to clean up

pick up pieces of myself

from all over the frozen ground

Who knew hearts can turn into

Slivers of glass

dangerous to handle

Slice my fingers

I rub tears from my eyes

and find toxic rivers

Red flows

Staining all of life

Small killing shards everywhere


Maybe millions

They stick to the inside of my chest

My throat

Puncture my lungs

Settle in my stomach

as I try to eat breakfast

It’s getting harder and harder to speak

To breathe

To stand

I fall face first into a pool

Of freezing water

The glass becomes ice

Eventually I crawl out of the water

but the ice remains

a solid block I live with

for 9 years

Containment my highest priority

Walking dead

until that box breaks open

I begin to grieve

and begin slowly melting

Fusing shattered pieces

absorbing them into

the fabric of my living

Im still working on it

Still looking for the fire of love

to refine the gold

Scars show the hearts broken places

for glimmers of light to shine through

As grieving does it’s healing work

And I become human

Once again


Amy Lloyd (AL)

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame

where everything shines as it disappears.

The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much

as the curve of the body as it turns away.
What locks itself in sameness has congealed.

Is it safer to be gray and numb?

What turns hard becomes rigid

and is easily shattered.
Pour yourself out like a fountain.

Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking

finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.
Every happiness is the child of a separation

it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming

a laurel,

dares you to become the wind.



Consider this tale, a gift from the Hassidic tradition:
A disciple asks the rebbe: “Why does the Torah tell us to ‘place these words upon your hearts’? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?” The rebbe answers: “It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and words fall in.”

Read full blog post here )

You have had many and great sadness, which passed. And you say that even this passing was hard for you and put you out of sorts. But, please, consider whether these great sadnesses have not rather gone right through the center of yourself? Whether much in you has not altered, whether you have not somewhere, at some point of your being, undergone a change while you were sad?… Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches, and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadness with greater confidence than our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown ; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent…



It’s not easy

to do the hard thing

to lose

to stand

to eat

to sleep alone

to wait at all

to be long-time patient

to be strong

to allow the pain

the grief

the tears of exhaustion



to press on

to refuse to settle

to believe in spite of loss

to keep the fire warm

to build wells

to send out love

to melt your defenses

to keep touching the lepers

to allow healing to come

to ruthlessly let go

to rise above our stories

to inhabit them completely

to set our boundaries

yet keep opening our hearts

to be ready

to keep saying yes


Amy Lloyd (AL)

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