life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

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God didn’t promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, or sun without rain, but He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way. –Anonymous


19 years ago today

I stood at the edge

of a great abyss 

in life

a part of me,

not known until that time,

had awakened

now I had a choice to make,

to accept –

or deny –

this part of myself,

which was revealed 

in such a wild, 

drastic,

unexpected

and overwhelming manner

I knew this would be

what, ultimately,

saved,

or

destroyed,

my life.

as I stood,

still in innocence,

not really knowing –

yet, somehow,

knowing in every way –

the costs,

the benefits,

the responsibility,

the awareness.

the long dark road ahead,

the excruciating valley years to come,

the sharp, rugged climb up the mountain. 

19 years ago,

on this day,

I struggled 

with all of this.

I made certain vows 

concerning the choices 

I would make through 

my time of learning:

I would only follow love. 

No matter how I failed, I would remember it is not about how good I am. I would try to live the words of Jesus in The Sermon on the Mount. 

I would never make a choice 

simply to benefit myself 

or to get money. 

I would learn to be truthful and fair and be the person I wanted to be. 

I would be honest with myself – always – especially when I was wrong, or made a mistake. 

I would stay aware and learn – so I would not make the same mistake twice. 

I would make the best choice I could any given moment, and then move forward the best I could with no regret. 

I would do my best and give my best. 

I would look for good things every day. 

That day I said ‘yes!’ to life

I jumped off the cliff

and began…

for good…

for bad…

to make my choices 

from a new place of radical trust. 

the rest is my history…

🍎

AL


All of my life I searched for truth and wanted to be beautiful

All my life I kept on moving looking for my home

All my life I played the part that someone else said was beautiful

All my life I lived afraid I couldn’t play that part

now I knock upon your door hear what my heart’s been longing for

welcome home

you belong

you are here 

where I love you, 

I want you

welcome home

won’t you stay

in my arms

I will hold you, 

I need you

I won’t ever leave you

you are home

you are never alone

welcome home

I will sing you a song

I will build you an alter

I will shout to the hills

I will rise to the sky

I will bake you some bread

I will drink to your honor

I will dance in the rain

I will celebrate always

🏡

AL


 
Character. Strength. Intelligence. Style. That makes beauty.

💞

— Diane Von Furstenberg 

A man looked for meaning.

For his very place in life.
He searched high and low.
He’d often hear a whisper, calling

his name from the other side

of what seemed like a door.
A door that remained hidden

from his ability to see.
Frustrated, he’d knock on

everything that resembled

a door. Turning here,

and there. Turning

just about anywhere.
Then one day,

unannounced,

it opened.
And he realised that he’d been

knocking from the inside.

And that the whisper

had been an echo.
The echo of his own soul

reminding him that

he was already home.

💞

The Whisper and the Echo by Nic Askew

preparation = always ready 


WAITING TO GO ON
…It must be 

we are waiting 

for the perfect moment. 
It must be

under all the struggle

we want to go on.
It must be, 

that deep down,

we are creatures

getting ready

for when we are needed.
It must be that waiting 

for the listening ear

or the appreciative word, 

for the right

woman or the right man 

or the right moment 

just to ourselves,
we are getting ready 

just to be ready
and nothing else.
Like this moment

just before the guests arrive 

working

alone in the kitchen 

sensing a deep

down symmetry

in every blessed thing.
The way

that everything 

unbeknownst

to us

is preparing 

to meet us too.
Just on the other 

side of the door 

someone

is about to knock

and our life

is just

about to change
and finally

after all these 

years rehearsing, 

behind

the curtain,
we might 

just be 

ready

to go on.

From ‘Waiting to Go On’ by David Whyte


The piano, 

not played,

is still a piano – 

patiently waiting 

the music lies quietly

still inside

ready 

not going anywhere else

not making itself heard

not anxious 

or demanding 

all it takes is the right hand

to touch the keys

to fall in love

and the song begins

the strings within

warm to life

always ready to play

💞

AL


blowing in the wind


And you have only just now

accepted the grace!

These fragments of your life,

the broken lines,

the missing phrases,

endings that don’t quite

rhyme, beginnings

that die in non sequitur,

stillborn ellipses

of awkward syntax

silently holding hands 

as you disappear

around corners together

alone again, until

suddenly it falls 

into place

as a single poem

needing no interpretation

because the mystery

of your beauty fills

all its empty spaces…

☺️

Fred LaMotte


Good poetry begins with

the lightest touch,

a breeze arriving from nowhere,

a whispered healing arrival,

a word in your ear,

a settling into things,

then like a hand in the dark

it arrests the whole body,

steeling you for revelation.
In the silence that follows

a great line

you can feel Lazarus

deep inside

even the laziest, most deathly afraid

part of you,

lift up his hands and walk toward the light.

  The Lightest Touch by David Whyte

graceful surrender


Start close in,

don’t take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don’t want to take.
Start with

the ground

you know,

the pale ground

beneath your feet,

your own

way to begin

the conversation.
Start with your own

question,

give up on other

people’s questions,

don’t let them

smother something

simple.
To hear

another’s voice,

follow

your own voice,

wait until

that voice

becomes an

intimate

private ear

that can 

then

really listen

to another.
Start right now

take a small step

you can call your own

don’t follow

someone else’s

heroics, be humble

and focused,

start close in,

don’t mistake

that other

for your own.
Start close in,

don’t take

the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don’t want to take.

START CLOSE IN by David Whyte


Days of wine and focus

of hanging on

of staying strong

of keeping faith

of sitting still

of being silent

of standing in my own shoes

of letting go 

of allowing the mystery

of hearing the call

of accepting what is

of not crossing borders or boundaries

of opening and opening

of trusting the journey

of seeing the face of God

of surrender into something bigger than I can know

of making the daily commitment

of acknowledging the grace

of thanking for everything

of looking for the miracles

of talking to trees

of taking time to prepare

of expressing my thanks

of helping in time of need

of following my own path

of obedience rather than sacrifice

of love and love and love

of all things love

💞

AL


sometimes


Sometimes the wind that strips everything

is the strong breathing of a yes.
The river of life wears away your little island

and bears you somewhere fertile. 
Receive the gift only departing can bestow,

the holy not in what is anointed
but in what is next,

the beginning beyond the silence beyond the end.
In thickest darkness is a door felt, not seen.

It gives. 
Beside you in confidence 

God is uncompleting the journey for you.
Lay your hand on the dark door. A voice 

says, “Come, join my becoming.”
__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


There was a definite cracking sound

It came from that place inside

Secret Deep 

Like the milky way

Or the center of the earth

Or heaven

More possibly hell 

– At least half way to one or all of those places

Like winter ice in the springtime thaw

The sound was unmistakeable

Now i feel it moving outward from that secret place

Like an inchworm 

Made of glass

Or razor blades

I wonder if half of me will 

suddenly

Melt down onto the floor

Like a bizarre murder in an action movie

Where the camera stays still

watching 

to catch

The guy who just got slashed through 

From the sword of justice

Looking normal 

for suspended moments 

Then

Slowly

The smile still on his lips

One piece slides to the floor

While the other stays upright 

To the delight 

of the eager

 bloodthirsty 

cheering 

audience

All of whom I know

🗡

AL



risk it all  


We are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world. We are a form of invitation to others and to otherness, we are meant to hazard ourselves for the right thing, for the right woman or the right man, for a son or a daughter, for the right work or for a gift given against all the odds. And in all this continual risking the most profound courage may be found in the radical and simple willingness to allow ourselves to be happy along the way…

😄

LONGING by David Whyte


It’s not how we leave one’s life. 

How we go off the air. 

You never know do you. 

You think you’re ready

for anything; 

then it happens, and you’re not. 

You’re really not. 

The genesis of an ending, nothing but a feeling, 

a slow movement, 

the dusting of furniture 

with a remnant of the revenant’s shirt.

Seeing the candles sink in their sockets; 

we turn away, 

yet the music never quits. 

The fire kisses our face.

O phthsis, o lotharian dead eye, 

no longer will you gaze on the baize of the billiard table. 

No more shooting butter dishes out of the sky. 

Scattering light.

Between snatches of poetry and penitence 

you left the brumal wood of men and women. 

Snow drove the butterflies home. 

You must know how it goes, 

known all along what to expect,

sooner or later … 

the faded cadence of anonymity.

Frankly, my dear, frankly, my dear, frankly

💞

Only the Crossing Counts by C. D. Wright


Well I won’t back down, no I won’t back down

You could stand me up at the gates of hell

But I won’t back down
Gonna stand my ground, won’t be turned around

And I’ll keep this world from draggin’ me down

Gonna stand my ground and I won’t back down
[Chorus:]

Hey baby, there ain’t no easy way out

Hey I will stand my ground

And I won’t back down
Well I know what’s right, I got just one life

In a world that keeps on pushin’ me around

But I’ll stand my ground and I won’t back down
Hey baby there ain’t no easy way out

Hey I will stand my ground

And I won’t back down

No, I won’t back down

This day maybe be rough and bloody and heartbreaking but it is here and it is now and it is bursting with untold potential and possibility and our response to it is of utmost, urgent importance.

       – Rob Bell

just pay attention  


a poem can write itself in a moment –

a snapshot written in the soul –

a worded,

or wordless,

recognition of beauty,

the endless evolution

and creation,

which surrounds our steps

and walks with us

as we dance through our lives. 

A few examples:

the way a weeping cherry tree delicately drapes pink branches 

against the blue sky. 

the way a jagged cut tree stump

covers itself with luxurious moss 

and pours out green English ivy all over the ground around it. 

the way the tires of a bulldozer 

make such interesting patterns in the sand

on the way to the salt water. 

the way dandelions keep on

cheerfully spreading wishes

and polka dot sunshine

no matter how many times they get labeled weeds.  

the way the smell of an orange 

colors your hands,

long after the fruit is consumed. 

the way a great conversation, 

of kith and kin,

on any ol’ friends bench,

can take you miles and miles

around the moon 

and back again

changing the course of your day,

sometimes, 

even your life. 

yes, poems are born

in the senses. 

no need for pen or paper, 

poems are created 

while paying attention, 

in the heart of 

our ordinary,

extraordinary,

living of life. 

🍊

AL


We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

📖

   – Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society 


refining thoughts


 Relax.
This won’t last long.
Or if it does, 
or if the lines make you sleepy or bored,

give in to sleep, turn on the T.V.,
 deal the cards.

This poem is built to withstand such things.

Its feelings cannot be hurt.
They exist somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.

Pick it up anytime.

Start it in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like.
Look, there’s a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he’ll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you’re busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it’s sex you’ve always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party’s unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don’t think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this 

is a poem for the entire family.

Right now, Budweiser is dripping from a waterfall,

deodorants are hissing into armpits of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don’t know what music this poem can come up with, 

but clearly it’s needed.

For it’s apparent 

they will never see each other again

and we need music for this
because there was never music 

when he or she

left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer than life.
I want you to look at it 

when anxiety zigzags your stomach

and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I’ll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don’t give anything for this poem.
It doesn’t expect much.
It will never say more 

than listening can explain.

Just keep it in your attache case 
or in your house.
And if you’re not asleep 

by now, or bored beyond sense,

the poem wants you to laugh.
😄

Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry by Stephen Dunn


The purpose of poetry is not to create literary criticism. It exists to delight, instruct, and console living people in the sloppy fullness of their humanity.

☺️

    – Dana Gioia

Sometimes my words

stick 

inside my pen. 

Hidden within the

inky blood,

refusing to flow. 

Dammed up

blockage of

frozen heart,

stubborn mind,

unwilling soul,

refusing to know,

what is already known –

heard 10 thousand times

between the lines

of shaded eyes

refusing to grow. 

🙃

AL

color me green






within the spaces between silences

there grows a green vine

with beautiful fruit

hanging

luscious

calling

healing

bountiful 

filling

loving

living

deep

juicy

running down our chins and elbows

until we fill with joy

and laugh with delight 

until we face our sorrow

and allow our salt to run and heal our wounds

until we feel what we need to feel

and let these emotions have their way with us

until we embrace this mystery 

and open our arms to life

this, 

my friends, 

is how I define the word:

music

💚

AL

🌎🌍🌏

photo sources found at http://www.pinterest.com. /al513/shadesofgreen

strength  

  
LIGHT AND DARKNESS
When we are touched by the presence of sacred wonder, we do not suddenly run away from the darkness and pretend that it does not exist. Nor do we try to explain away the darkness or become lost in angst over questioning how such darkness can possibly exist. Rather, seeing the greater divine light even a little, we start to see how our delusions only cause ourselves and others such suffering. This growing realization can then begin to slowly open our hearts to compassion and love, both for ourselves and for all other beings who toil in the darkness, caught in cycles of pain, fear, and ignorance. From this love also comes a growing commitment to fight the delusions and the darkness and to serve the light however we can. Indeed, each one of us can fight the darkness in our own ways and in our own time.  
First, we can begin to fight our own delusions and grow spiritually as best we can. We can work toward our own awakening and strive to gain our own growing clarity of vision that allows us to see more and more the delusions for what they are and to see, beyond the delusions, the boundless preciousness of all life, including our own. We cannot truly begin to help others and the world until we begin to clear the clouds from our own eyes. And to do this, we need to start cultivating an open heart of loving-kindness for all life. The true end of suffering comes with the dawning of a deep wisdom that sees the transient, impermanent veneer, but also sees the very present and real luminous spiritual reality that flows through all of us. This requires a commitment to fight first our own intolerance, cruelty, arrogance, anger, and hatred. Change must start in our own hearts and minds and must start with exercising kindness towards ourselves and to those around us in our daily lives.  
Second, we can work to not add to the darkness in our own corner of the world and work instead to shed whatever light we can, even if it is only in the small interactions with others in our daily lives. Our everyday interactions, no matter how humble, can call forth the divine light into our own lives and those around us, when we act with a kind and loving intention. It is certainly wonderful when good people affect positive change on a community wide or larger basis in society. Such efforts need to be supported and commended. But not all of us are always in a position to affect larger societal change. This does not stop us,however, from working quietly in our small corner of the world, bringing light to our own lives and bringing some light to those around us. Such efforts are not to be put down, but have infinite significance. Even a few lights in a darkened city shed beauty and wonder. 

Indeed, the light of love, no matter how small, makes a difference, and the world will be healed only when all of the small corners are filled with light and love. And that will happen only when each of us makes that effort where we stand in the moment in our daily lives.

⚡️

Steven Jay

m.facebook.com at simpleinnertruths

    
  
on the edge of flying. 

the verge of breaking through 

standing in the pouring rain

hoping to find you,

somewhere in the darkness

of this dark and stormy night,

questions with no answers

colliding with the light. 

bloody battles all around,

I’m caught within my pain. 

holding on to faith in something

in the middle of this fight. 

at the end of living

not knowing what to do,

tears, they match the weather

flooding from my soul. 

I shake my head for clearing,

prepare my heart to fight,

struggle to my aching feet

step into the ring of light.

death lies all around me,

as I pray this simple prayer, 

release me for a moment,

there’s work for me to do. 

⚡️

AL

 

 For the dulness that encloses me I pray
your grace burn off the morning fog.

That the dream of doubt I wear like clothes

I pray may in your light dissolve, and fall away.

For healing of the wound that is a world that is a wall 

between me and your delight, and mine, I pray.

From the coma of my fears awaken me

with your warming, seeing sun. 

For my eyes, sleep-sealed and glazed, I pray

to see the nub and fullness of what is. 

From the soft bed of my grave

raise me into this day amazed and new.

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

 

  

 

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