mandelshtam2

This is poem of love.

I would scale any mountain, Ford any cold river, Spend any night sleepless with you In order just to tell you in ways words cannot express That you are not alone, that we are in this together. But I would also leave you, Alone, To fight the battles you are strong enough to fight on your own Whether you think you are strong enough or not. I would even shove you away to make sure you still have the reflex to stand back up. And this would be making love, By making challenges, Even small bo

We often talk about pride. A non-ego-enflaming element of pride is dignity. How do we dignify ourselves? How do we dignify others?

I am not what you expect, But I am no alternative. I do not live for the world's approval. I am dignity. There is no other. I am your clearest thoughts. I am decisive action. I am irrefutable sense. I am like the gazelle, softly, strongly moving over rough terrain. As we chase, in great bounds haunches flex and hurl me forward- Yet in the calm, cool shade, this hide is supple, these steps are light- Dignity. I am protective mother, I am fiercer than any storm gale, My freedom is no lack of

Loves it! We are usually so much more bold than the roles given to us allow for. Making space for ourselves to be those things which deep down we know ourselves to be can be a full time job, but each one of us is more than qualified.

__________________________________ There he sat And there he sat There he stood, And in a gaze I saw in him And deep Sensed in the spread of his iris The fresh, chilling air Embracing, forcing each leaf in a dance Yes, the wind was in his eyes, Blowing over the many-hued landscape And whistling across the caverns

A vision I had of Jesus Christ while in tantric yoga breathing meditation in which I felt energy like none before, like spring rapids of fire on my arms, through-chest, back... back to Jesus. He, as men recline, was cast upon a coming of age wilderness, deserted, alone. As one arm propped his upper carriage he, in wide-eyed wonder (or was it horror?) witnessed an erection. An ejaculation. touched by angel? (witnessed, was not creating, that is the Father's job, is it not?) Here am I, quaking as I am, asking myself, is this a calculated, liberalizing demonic possession? Or Divine Truth? Jesus, being led to orgasm by a host of angels who are invisible beside his humanity. Laudeum.

We talk about pride a lot. I think a non-ego inflaming part of pride is dignity. How do we dignify ourselves? How do we dignify others? _____________________________________ I am not what you expect, But I am no alternative. I do not live for the world's approval. I am dignity. There is no other. I am your clearest thoughts. I am decisive action. I am irrefutable sense. I am like the gazelle, softly, strongly moving over rough terrain. As we chase, in great bounds haunches flex and hurl me forward- Yet in the calm, cool shade, this hide is supple, these steps are light- Dignity. I am protective mother, I am fiercer than any storm gale, My freedom is no lack of duty-- For in me is both abounding action and tender creation. Plant in me your inspiration, and watch it grow. And I in turn, will share words that burn your heart, And reflect your dignity, in turn, A subtle dance of sophisticated sirens, Our attraction, embracing all that is natural. Dignity. Reaching through every barrier, Watch your inhibitions fall. This is your time, your place, your stage. Wear your dignity with all the ease that a lion carries his mane. Bear it as part of you like a woman with child. It will lend you strength and long life, It will lead you to the prize. Dignity. It is Peace without resting, Confidence without complacency, Love without necessity, Beauty expected, yet un-assumed. Dignity, Your greatest free ride, A steed on a quest, The inner rhythm during dry times of no outer inspiration, Your thirst quenched on parched desert trails. Dignity. Come, drink, and remember this always. ________________________________________________ Just a thought-- One Chinese philosophy is that life is made up of an erotic dance between the yin and yang. Another is that the life is made up of a battle between the two opposing forces. Are we fighting those who oppose us? Or making love to them?

what do you think? __________________________________ Hazel Eyes Hazel eyes smiling back at me In the gray like haute couture Hourglasses falling with the time And dine and dine and dine on nothing But sheer promises of smiles This is but the first sight Projected on the hollow Follow me, you beg, but I can barely breathe Beautiful But we are weak The light in your eyes would blind me If it were not for your frailty Men for ages labeled feminine The qualities which did them in So they could distance themselves Like little children throw their food Sustenance Write me a code that guarantees That I

word repetition here seems to denote that unstoppable attraction, coming back to the same things inexplicably drawn to them, and there needs be no more description than just that clutch or touch or lip-- so the reader feels it, too.

first instincts about God and our place in the world are usually so correct, and get sooo confused. Christ said, "Let the children come to me" maybe it's because they are the only ones who understand the love he was communicating. this makes me want to write like a child... maybe that is the next fiction challenge.

Here is a letter to a lover, which I haven't sent quite yet. Let me know what you think- ______________________________________________ Not Alone I would scale any mountain, Ford any cold river, Spend any night sleepless with you In order just to tell you in ways words cannot express That you are not alone, that we are in this together. But I would also leave you, Alone, To fight the battles you are strong enough to fight on your own Whether you think you are strong enough or not. I would even shove you away to make sure you still have the reflex to stand back up. And this would be making love, By making challenges, Even small bouts of violence, To train you and me for the hard moments that come When no lover, no philosopher, no divine presence could convince us That we are not alone. After being forced to walk through wilderness With no company to warm us, We find that there are some truths which are only carried On strong, cold winds Which blow through the coverings we have swaddled ourselves with And make us feel every bone, every joint we thought we had hidden deep down. For we must know that we are hard as stone deep down inside, As sweet as it is to nuzzle our soft parts, Making love requires penetrating hardness, And so complements other rigors thrust upon us. So hold me at arm