After seeing I AM (Documentary by Tom Shadyac)

It’s a lot of spacey mind stuff that makes sense

We are all connected

By our hearts, guess what

Our hearts talk to our brain

Not the other way around

Every thought of stress….or love

Makes a pattern in the universe

Grief is a type of love also

Its what opens our hearts

To let more love empathy compassion out into the World.

That is such a good thing

To know that empathetic principle or energy

Is the best part of us.

Gives me hope for us humans

The animals already have it down.

Consensus decisions already happen in the natural animal kingdom.

We humans seem to be lagging

If the tallest mountains in the world, and the oceans and air

And all that connect us, are enter-twined in shared energy

How can we help but to love all be all share all

Quit consuming all?

How can we be guilty of doing….nothing?

My 'Coffee' Table

My desk, well, actually my coffee table.

Why do they call it a ‘coffee’ table?

TV table, living room catch-all table maybe

But coffee?

Ok my desk-table in front of TV in the living room

(Why living room? Do I live here?)

Geez, Kim .  Just write quit questioning.

 With computer,  and sundry paperwork, let’s see, ten books.

Ten books? What the…..they’re only here because I think I’m reading all of them.

Some even at once.

Ok there’s more. Five candles. One of those angel/jesus tall ones in glass.
I like those. Burn forever.

One beautiful crystal. Tigerbalm. Some pictures in a pile.

Whatever you do don’t open an old box and pull out pictures that rip your heart open,

Because they end up on this table ripping you up for weeks.

Till you figure out where to put them, till in the future you find them again.

Sheesh....when they say our lives are a circle I get it.

Pen, remote, phone, calendar, little coasters (that must be for the ‘coffee’)

I like this little prose poem.

Is it a poem?

Well, it is my table I’m writing it on.

So I’ll call it whatever I want.

Bombs Fall

Bombs fall out of the sky
The sky, the same beautiful shade of blue
Men, their fear palatable as fresh cut pears
Running on human adrenaline
The ants in the dirt marching
It’s what ants do
Men surviving or not
What men do
The sky still a beautiful shade of blue

Armstrong Woods