Perceptive Poems

Subsequence By Subsequence, 14th Dec 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

Transcendental rhythmic poetry to expand your consciousness and inspire perceptual freedom. My hopes is for my works to invoke in any soul who engages their awareness with the words I write to experience their own pure presence, fully exist boundlessly NOW, if only for the moment.


Life is but a journey. Time is but a road.
Unsatisfied desires I carry as my load.
Dreams direct my compass, synthesize direction.
Thoughts arise like warriors from every dream's reflection.
Lacking is a driving force, wanting moves my feet.
Satisfaction threatening - lack thereof, defeat.

May my breath suffice the need for air to fuel my fire,
May my wanting wither off to leave just one desire-
For my journey to transcend the dusty path delusion,
Created by a novice mind, creating mere confusion.
May a river flood my trail and carry me along.

Black and white diffuse to grey, dispersing right and wrong.
My mother Earth's own waters flow, they never make mistakes
In harmony with gravity, majestic falls and breaks.
Simplicity, surrender, devoid of expectation,
Judgment nonexistent, freedom from temptation.
Be one with me my journey, expel my fearful shiver.
At heart, I'm naturally free, I'm carried by a river.

When the Pendulum Swings

When the pendulum swings
and all the joy slowly drains
filtering from the heart
just like blood through the veins.

When the pendulum swings
and the same shapes and schemes
that just yesterday pleased me,
have now failed me it seems.

When the pendulum swings
and my fingers grow cold
all I touch or imagine
is numb, worn and old.

When the pendulum swings
and my mind no more thinks
than the lump in my throat,
nor my heart slowly sinks.

When the pendulum swings,
like a mirror's reflection
a kept promise, it must
swing the other direction.

And when it swings back
It will gently unravel
any bandages surfacing pain
through its travel.

And when it swings back
it will clear dust and sand
dry up droplets of water
unused by the land.

And when it swings back
it undoes and releases
unwinds, and unties, cleans
and clears and degreases.

And it shall swing back
just as far as it came,
and upon its return
be not ever the same.

The Path

The Path We walk life's path, each choice a step.
We walk through day and night.
We walk observinantly at times, at times with eyes shut tight.
Our paths may cross and we decide
To move along or walk in stride.
Whatever on our path we find,
We choose to take or leave behind.
A heavy load will slow our pace,
Time tempts against itself to race.
We choose what we will sacrifice.
We stop to think. But rarely twice.
We think too much and loose our way.
Night falls, in fear we wait for day.
We trip, we fall,we break a limb.
When rivers block our path, we swim.
Each step a choice, our path is layed
By each decision we once made.
We walk one path which soon may split.
We choose; go left, go right, or sit.
Whichever way we choose to go,
The other we will never know.
We walk the chosen path and yet,
The one not taken we regret.
We walk alone, we look around
Supported solely by the ground.
Another's path may run along,
They may walk with us far and long
But in due time they separate
From anything that has a weight.
And only keep eternally
What one can't touch, hear, smell or see.
Each lesson learned, all pain endured,
Each ailment through devotion cured,
Each suffering moment life was worth,
Each work of art you've left on Earth,
Each new soul through you granted birth,
Each selfless sacrifice you've made,
How your attention you have payed,
The scars you've tended to within,
Each gift you haven't lost to sin.
Each soul you loved without condition,
All this you carry on your mission.


Open your eyes, all three, now see...
all you can find when unblinded by mind.
The lashed eyes observe through an ocular nerve
What the heart assumes or prefers or deserves.
Belief relieves perceptual sense, hence ommission
of anything on the periphery of physical vision.
The mind's eye precedes photon-fueled sight,
which falters in dark as the mind's eye in bright.
The unveiled, unprogrammed eye number three knows.
Then that which it knows it can see.


The roots of his solace have sprouted from pain.
He knows now that loss never comes without gain.
His eyes light the pathway through dark growing clear.
The darkness in sight brings him comfort, not fear.
Expecting that nothing but hope him awaits,
He carries a key that can unlock all gates.
Stripped of all power, faith never forsaken.
He chooses to value what cannot be taken.
Far all that from him once was stolen away
No longer bears meaning this moment, this day.
The mirror before him reflects partial truth.
His wisdom begins to regress him to youth.
The innocence that seemed to wither with age
Pursuits of the will closed and opened each stage.
With evil that lurks like a wind winding trees,
He ran never more, only dropped to his knees.
Alone and unsure he could only surrender,
Believing that courage would grow his heart tender,
The passion within burned his walls down to dust
This newly found freedom was granted through trust.


Happiness, the secret quest that questions every man
Embarking on a journey with his compass and his plan
Engineered by preconception, fueled in part by greed
Steering his beloved vessel anxious to succeed.
Sick with expectation, he is terminally ill.
Suffering endures for him, his mind is never still.
Happiness is always distant, more than once before.
Halls are walked, and walked again, retried most every door.


In English, Blessing is defined as “gift bestowed by God”
A simple phrase and nothing more, no possible façade.
Although to wonder and to seek has tempted me before,
Content with what I feel and see I long for nothing more.
A gift, that is, defined by me is something that can be
A pleasant, likeable surprise that I receive for free.
I may not care for it at all, and therefore never use,
A gift is something that is mine to have I didn't choose.
A gift can be ignored, refused, or simply thrown away.
Its value is irrelevant, its price I did not pay.
I'm quick to recognize a blessing wrapped in silver strings,
I'm quick to recognize one in the shape and form of things.
It's clear to see a blessing that feels good and flows like rain.
However, blessings also come through suffering and pain.
My sadness is a blessing to show me I exist
Beyond the blood, the bone, the thought, beyond the visual mist.
My anger is a blessing to shelter me from fear
A weapon that withdraws my hurt into an outward spear.
My emptiness a blessing, a sacred barren space
For me to choose what I shall use to fill up in its place.
My fear is too a blessing, survival's primal drive,
It tells me just what I believe I need to stay alive.

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author avatar Rathnashikamani
19th Dec 2013 (#)

Great debut poems.

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author avatar Subsequence
29th Dec 2013 (#)

Thank you, rathnashikamani, for affirming my work.

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author avatar Retired
12th Jul 2014 (#)

You are not a 'new' soul: that is obvious from what you have written here. Your rhythm is immaculate, your content is thoughtprovoking, and your heart is real. Thank you for your words.

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