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mclovin4552 · 2 years
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The Heart of Things
There is a vital darkness Ringed with jealous flames, A place of utter stillness To drive a mind insane. To feel that shimmering presence, To touch that luminous ground, To clasp the vital essence, There’s nothing more profound. We call it pure creation, A place outside of time. We call it adoration, A glimpse of the divine. In every earthly domain, Across the tumbling seas, Over each hill and mountain, Among the towering trees, All around the globe And across the astral plain, Wherever life arose This heart it is the same. It beats with love and kindness And touches us with light With joy, though tinged with sadness, And warmth against the night.
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Inspiration
The romans believed ‘genius’ a daemon That visited the artist from time to time. In those moments of inspiration Every brushstroke, every rhyme, Would be sublime. And then they’d say  The artist was with genius that day. But when they slaved away  Without much luck, With each word stuck, Colours mixing to muck,
One wouldn’t sneer, It was simply clear, No genius was near. How much more wise, To my eyes, Is this view, As someone who Knows what it’s like To try and try and do and do  And yet see not a jot of bright Divine inspiration shine through. Who’s sat and wondered what’s wrong To be without luck for so long.
Only to find pruning trees, Cooking food, Watching bees, Clearing weeds, Or feeling the breeze, Sudden serenity and ease, Gentle satisfactory peace. The genius of the moment is here And true inspiration is near. 
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Underground
Huddled into myself,  A curl against the world, A feeling of frayed health. In my chest a void swirls Painfully round and about  I want to keep the world out But it climbs back in, Sits under my chin, grinning.
Tell me what to do, How to break free, Who to call, How to shed The weight of it all, Stomach the dread Pass through the wall Of pain, Stand tall like a tree Today and tomorrow again
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Nightfall
Sweet sunset dereliction, When striding through forest, Cold climbing cloud-thick moon Unveiling her face, a pearl undressed. Tall space looks massively down On little you, a tree dwarfed speck,  Among the leggy brambled undergrowth.  Remnants of the day play Something like the last fiery notes From a long, deep, old,  Forgotten, mortal-forbidden tune. Of which these faintest notes float  Somehow through your ears And you shiver at the half-caught Thought which suggests with awe And perhaps a little fear a sublimely clear Harmony, maybe, or something more.
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Dear Water
Open up your window Breathe the wet caked air Mud clods and bare willow Grassy stretching field fair Hear and smile at pitter patter Drops that splash and spatter In momentary crowns and baby drops Rippled puddle plips and plops Sound of rain blurred into murmur A gentle carpet of a din Look up at the sagging clouds Watch listen smell breathe in All the valley’s in a shroud Nothing to be seen from here But you know the budding crowd Of thirsty flora drink that clear Draught that blank tasting elixir Of quick and quickening through all the years Always near
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Tell me something
Tell me something I don’t know I’ll be listening I love you so Yours is mine Mine yours, too I’ll be fine When I’m with you  Please stay close I need you here Feel like a ghost Without you near And summer ends In falling leaves But can I mend What I aggrieved? A rose in bloom  Will wilt away Will love go soon Or will it stay? A broken stone Will not be whole But twigs resume  Their growth quite bold When it is past The winter cold Can our love last Will it hold? Make a wish It will come true I’m sure of this Anything for you But all I ask The wish I made: That once it’s past I’ll know you stayed And if this wish Does come true I’ll give a kiss And will ask you To tell me something I don’t know I’ll be listening I love you so
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Little Fires of the Heart
Where do they come from? Little fires of the heart. The moments when we feel some Measure of being a part
Of a greater whole, is it? Or some wider truth? We feel a flow and go with it. We need no further proof
Than just that inner glow -  A little fire of the heart. Where else do we need to go? This is our ending and our start. 
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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Human too
I am human too All too human, too. I have come to think of The true human spirit as light As innocent and free Not weighed down, like me. Perhaps it is the most blessed thing: A human happy in innocence who Knows just enough, but not too much. Who knows just enough for a tinging of sadness, But not so much as to despair. Can my spirit ever be light again? But it is worse still, my spirit Is not burdened but ill, cut up and  Constrained into the tiniest space It is barely spirit at all.
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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To Exist
Sometimes I try to make Sense. But sometimes, like now,  When I am not sure what sense  There Is to be had, I simply try to  Express What it is like to be me in a moment like This.
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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The Girl that Glows
The girl that I chose, glows. Even when her eyes are closed She glows, though if she chose, Perhaps she’d not be a girl that glows. But she is not a girl that knows That she is a girl that glows.
How it is no one does see How pleasingly she glows, but me, Is yet a greater mystery. And often would I puzzled be, Of an eve, to think how she Is glowing so mysteriously And not a soul take note but me. Others see her twinkling eyes, ‘Tis sure, and when she smiles wide, Its not just me that sighs, I’ve spied, Or tries to stroke their pride By summoning another grin, to glide Between her nose and chin, or slide A little smirk to the side Where a rosy cheek resides. But this girl that I chose, she glows. And all I just described is prose - Is like the leaves but not the rose - Because my experience of her shows This girl that magically glows, Inspires a feeling that grows. Whose measure, I suppose, is not enclosed By a mind like mine, since it blows Like the wind across the scales, those Which weigh, in kind, the close Decisions of the mind. How does One weigh the wind? Who knows? Sometimes heavy sometimes light, so goes The measure. What is this feeling that grows And grows but changes like the weather? I do not know but wish to be with her forever.
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mclovin4552 · 4 years
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When Writing Might Be a Salvation
Being immeasurably strange is one of the things that makes me just like everyone else. 
However a combination of my strangeness and the circumstances of life have taken me down a dark path.
Perhaps writing about my experience will help me sort out the tangle I find myself in, or show others what not to do if I suffer further ill fate. In writing, I might find the key to my happiness that has been eluding me, or uncover one that will fit the lock on the door to someone else’s secret garden.
We are all searching for our secret garden, full of delightful smells, where the best of all seasons is ripe and fresh at all times.
I suppose this is a mission statement of sorts.
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mclovin4552 · 10 years
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When I’m at the dentist getting my teeth cleaned people are standing looking through the door. And I’m like, ‘What would you do if someone was staring at you while you were getting your teeth cleaned?’ So it’s a work in progress. When I meet young fans I understand them because I was like that too, but it’s the real life day-to-day run-ins with people who sometimes don’t really know how to act that make me feel weird, and I don’t like it. 
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