~ o n e

body of

emotions,

emanating

from the

core. tidal

waves as oceans,

oft’ eroding sandy

shores & riverbeds

of polished stones,

drunk on heaven’s

rain; pure vapors of

aged flesh & bones:

soul — 100 proof

of.....................pain

glaxies glide

within me.

pulsing to the

rythm of my heart,

lighting stars

when i smile

and

darkening

(and condensing to a small ball of pain)

when i cry...

my soul

is endless

emptiness

and

fullness

(an “out of this world” contadiction)

that i

will never be able

to fully understand.

(but like space, my knowledge of it grows each day).

so,

do not judge me by my

skin

(calling me out because i’m different)

because

my soul

is way beyond

this body,

and you will

never

be able to capture it.

My heart is dipped in bourbon and my bones are coated in salted ocean.

Yet, my soul ebbs and flows like a pulse in the vein of the Universe.

I am just a Crystal child of this Earth that is composed of the Seeds of dead Stars.

Every day I wait for you to wake up. I don’t mind these hours without you. They pass, like everything else. Tell me, what’s it like in Illinois?

The weather’s fine on this side of the pond. Skies are blue. Sun hits you like a horse’s back legs whenever you step outside.

It’s been ten years since I saw you, ten days since you found me on Linkedin, and you haven’t changed a bit. When you talk about green tea and Hitchcock, I see the children we were, kicking about in the dust of a school yard.

Souls shine through eyes, it’s true, but also through words, through actions and the questions you ask. How we remember each other.

Souls rise up and cross oceans and worlds. I wouldn’t know your face anymore, couldn’t pick you out from a crowd. But I’d never forget your quick wit. The way your eyes widen when you understand something. How your laugh gurgled up from the back of your throat.

Those are the sounds of a soul.

#inthecar #difficulttoconcentrate #brotherplaysloudmusic #thoughtIdgivethisashot

While he was muddling the mint leaves together with the sugar in the bottoms of our julep cups, my dog, General Sherman, posed me an interesting question. “Do dogs have souls?”

I added the crushed ice and bourbon to each silver cup, stirred briskly until the outside of the cups were frosty, took an evaluatory sip (which was found to be satisfactory), and returned to my seat beneath the ceiling fan on our shaded porch, the perfect spot to ruminate on the matter, and pray tell to deliberate through peaceable discourse... at least to the point where General Sherman’s views branched so sharply away from my own as to lead to a discordance. After all, a man and his dog should always remain civil towards one another.

“According to Christianity,“ I pointed out, “dogs do not have souls, and therefore cannot be admitted to heaven.”

”Sadly true,” responded General Sherman, “but Hindus believe otherwise, and so admitted the dog along with the other animals into their cycle of death and life.”

”That is so, but according to Aristotle, plant life has a living soul, animals have animate souls, while only humans have souls capable of self-awareness.”

”Yes, but you are assuming that he submitted that theory in a positive vein. Is it not your self-awareness that drives you to commit crimes upon one another?”

”No, silly dog. That is our human nature, which is an entirely different thing.”

We enjoyed our refreshments quietly for several minutes before Sherman began again. ”The ancient Egyptians believed that their gods hid inside the spirits of animals, and that their pets would join their human partners in the afterlife, and together they might ascend to greatness.”

”The ancient Egyptians were a wise people. Would you care for another julep, General Sherman, or would you rather play some ball?”

“Ball, please.”

“Yea, me too. It’s getting stuffy on this porch.”

Soul is

the aspect

that’s at once

naive and old

blasé as if

and wise

to the world

stitched

for a moment

with skin

yet neither

out nor in

borne

an emblem

of eternal

Being

there is no

my or their

or your---

Always

the cosmos

owns the Soul.

07.20.20

WHAT IS THE SOUL? challenge @JD4

A treasure chest

A Pandora’s Box

That holds what is best

Or contain a pox

Some consider important

Others trivial

Some may find discordant

Others find harmony

Like a box

It is made

It can be carried

Can be shown the contents inside

Through the windows

We call eyes

Warmth, Empathy, Anger, Madness

Envy, Care, Regret

Sadness, Lonliness

Love........

Soul is a box

So what does yours hold?

#poetry

There is a soul in his eyes. A soul of a better world. A world that wants to learn. A world that wants to understand. Curly hair and a beautiful body. A body where the female and male meet. Full of sensuality and raw strength. A body that is not questioning its masculinity, it just IS. I like his hands. Especially when they touch me. It feels like his soul is touching me through his hands. Bringing me a better world. 

@JD4

The sole is the part of your foot that takes the most damage.

The soul is the part of your body that takes the most damage.

And now that I'm thinking about it, the butt also takes a lot of damage.

Therefore, the soul must be both your ass and sole.