There’s an internal
Monolog
Somewhere in the American West
That could go on
Forever
If they could
Have the peace
And the solitude
In spirit.
There’s an internal
Monolog
Somewhere in the American West
That could go on
Forever
If they could
Have the peace
And the solitude
In spirit.
I miss my Abbott,
In a body used to lingering kindly,
You would have to ask me, for my sense
Who are they to know me?
Late at night, late last year, and it was in early fall.
I stood living true to being mezmorized,
I explain, half-hazardly, my mathematics in Carver hall,
Did no one there care to ask me much other than a simple how? to gather why.
I want my chaotic trend to restabilize.
More coffee today?
Less leisure in the way?
More coffee over time?
I’m the ghost in the shell is why.
Watch for changes
I’ve seen a change; And,
I’ve moved on again
Was it too late to correct?

“Lighthouse” #poetry by #jasminivanković
I’ll have more good days
after my lighthouse knows
My everlasting why,
A vision of its grace
– I felt dizzy looking at my own face.
In a lighthouse in which
I knew the wavelength of myself
Reflected in a mirror,
I keep it as my own home
Of sacred knowledge as a seer.
Made of a syndrome,
Made of perpetual growth,
Living with long-lasting shadows,
I know all these from my ceiling*,
I know these things for myself.
I felt this day has an interpretation,
Seen quintessentally
From the same eyes
My father had,
I had then decided
To draw from my current need,
The first highest,
By no means of passing control.
When I knew it could never end,
So I’d never let
Anyone find their way in,
But I’d show you
How quickly a spell
Made by Locusts, can.
I guess they, too, have felt
My dispare,
I saw it in MY mind,
Maybe it is the case,
It’d take a fire in the soul,
To lose every person
Who spoke
With a shallow speak,
And you wouldn’t know
The joy I lost on the way
Of each “don’t care;”
I made the lighthouse of myself,
A self to be,
A shell of my own boundaries,
The inner ring of me.
I never did find in them, forgiven.
One thousand Baclavas,
I’ll forgive you.
You, too, shall know
That is what gives
To my life each day
Was still found within
On the day of transformation
– I felt a heavy breath,
Casting the formulation
Of an encapsulated Doxastic (from a δόξα)
Logic to a realistic end.
This lighthouse explains the mind,
Do you have to mention the unmentionable, my friend?
I’m still thinking that
It is what it was,
And so are we
– the same
As we were.
I’m, too, dreaming that
I’m leading as I was,
And I’ll land with you
– the same
As we were.
I know I’m a lucky man.
I know I’m great.
I know it’s easy,
Just see past the hate.
I know I’m conscious.
I know I’m late.
I feel the moment,
Before you find faith.
“Good,” was the only word she could use to describe the ways so to choose.
“I’m alive” was the phrase that flipped like a switch, making her life begin, making every day a win.
“I’ll start anew,” never would I want to; it goes without say, but maybe a stronger maybe so I’ll start today.
Thank you to the indivisible, you know who you are.
An understanding of time.
Practicing patience as a realistic step, keeping love-as-it-develops always in mind, as it becomes more true – I know you, I know you’re one-of-a-kind.
I’m wishing away in the way, ‘you know one of those dreams.’ As have I. If I knew how to tell it, I’d try.
Thank you,
Jasmin
Reason lives in Questions;
Ask her, ask her to Imagine.
I shone a light, a start to life,
A beginning, middle, without end.
Most things, that have been,
Come boxed with Conditions.
Whether you’ve made something
Simple or complicated,
Reason says her Truth
“Depends.”
I live perforce premise.
I live. I’ve lived. I live.
I arose, I’ve arose, I’ve arisen.
I decide, I’ve decided, and dare to
Come to a decision;
I shall wake up and start again.