The pulse of the Universe
has a louder beat than my heart.
The sound of believing is continuous,
I am the embodiment of hope, as always.
Continuous, perfect, precisely spaced amounts
of blood traveling through me and my systems.
Energy is a constant around me,
flexible, friendly, and lives forever.
When the energy between us is good,
(Oh, but I love you infinitely.)
When I am dancing with my eyes closed –
this is what I'm talking about.
That's the way things are with me.
I stand as close as possible to the sound
and let the pulse of the Universe
flow through me,
ocean current flow,
dancing with my eyes closed
in my perfect space.
When they energy is good between us,
you know I do, I love you infinitely.
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In my never ending search for the sweet place in between, I've been known to unabashedly appropriate everything that assists in my feeling alive. I can't hold on to these sensations, emotions and experiences have a life of their own. So I touch, I sing, I fly and I write so that it keeps moving through me and onto the next unsuspecting body.
None of these words are mine to keep. I will eventually turn to dust, after all.
* Townes Van Zandt
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I'm slowly uploading all the poems that will eventually make up the books: Grace, Pretty Girl, Electrical Disturbances, Phoenix and the current work-in-progress, The Loss of a Comet.
Some were written in the moment, others tie themselves to the one before and the one after and read like therapy. They probably were.
I have my favorites. Others make me smile, (Buster Napping, As Usual.) Some make me sad. Others take me away. All of them are proof that I'm still alive. If a single person connects with any set of words, well, then it's that much better to have shared.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Places I've Been by Fabienne Jach is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
I get obsessed with words and certain phrases. They come at me and push their way own through me, (bullies), I don't know what else to do but put them down and let them have a life. I've been writing since I was twelve. Since "Flying Forever, Forever Free." Now you know.
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High, Low and In Between*
In my never ending search for the sweet place in between, I've been known to unabashedly appropriate everything that assists in my feeling alive. I can't hold on to these sensations, emotions and experiences have a life of their own. So I touch, I sing, I fly and I write so that it keeps moving through me and onto the next unsuspecting body.
None of these words are mine to keep. I will eventually turn to dust, after all.
* Townes Van Zandt
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In Progress
I'm slowly uploading all the poems that will eventually make up the books: Grace, Pretty Girl, Electrical Disturbances, Phoenix and the current work-in-progress, The Loss of a Comet.
Some were written in the moment, others tie themselves to the one before and the one after and read like therapy. They probably were.
I have my favorites. Others make me smile, (Buster Napping, As Usual.) Some make me sad. Others take me away. All of them are proof that I'm still alive. If a single person connects with any set of words, well, then it's that much better to have shared.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
All Those Pesky Words
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The Places I've Been by Fabienne Jach is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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