four-1 (yrs) on no1 2tell

stories told
days left empty

four-1 (yrs) on no 1 2tell
re: battles fought
victories claimed

success i 8
shoveled on my dish
w/o rhymes or metre
2 make cents
out of nonsense

all that flow, flow, flowing
throws me out of kilter
words splinter my soul
visions unknown

seeing all i believe
believing all i see
me 2 believe in me

so mean rt now
full of btw
thrown like darts
missing bulleyes
missing battles

losing lost (again)
finding new challenges
living new stories
told in
four-1 (yrs)
2 no1

copyright 2019: all rights reserved

photo: Rt 549: 41 Yrs on. (Mill Creek, 12/19)

Yes, I Know (The Badass)

 

July 14 2015 Sedona and Phoenix 093

Sunset Rainbow: Sedona, July 2015

 

Yes, I know
With my soul
The pain, the hurt,
The trauma inflicted
On you
By you
On your path.

Yes, I know
How the Shadow of Valley of Death
Feels, looks, and smells:
I’ve traveled through it several times
In both the waking and dream worlds.

I am The Badass
I don’t take evil cosmic crap lightly
And won’t sit still for it.

You may prefer
To call me The Warrior Monk,
But I prefer The Badass
Because I’ve been knocked down
So many fucking times,
Been reduced to ashes,
Dead beyond death,
Abandoned,
Mocked,
Ridiculed,
Judged
Only to spring back up
By yet another miracle
And land again
(Stronger,
So much stronger
Than
The burning Hells
That had taken me down)
On my two feet,
Thankful for The Angels
Who summoned the wind
That gathered my ashes;
Who summoned the rain
That cemented those flakes;
Who summoned the sun
That hardened me into spiritual stone;
Who summoned the moon
That ignited my intuition;
Who summoned the eagle
That awakened my spirit.

I fear not chaos
For it allows me
To let go of control
And surrender to faith;
I fear not evil
For it allows me
To find the good
In all people
In all situations;
I fear not homelessness
For I know my soul
Always has a home;
I fear not pain
For I know
Such intense searing wounds
Bring profound healing;
I fear none of this
For I know the many avenues
Of love
Of faith
Of strength
And trust in The Inner Voice
And The Angels
Who surround
And flow through me.

Death?
I know it will come
And I harbor
No fear of crossing over;
For why should The Angels
Desert me then?
They’ve never left me:
It was I who deserted them
When overwhelmed
By the endless desolation
As the fires of hell
Incinerated my life
And purified my soul.

You
Who have loss,
You
Who have pain,
You
Who have suffering;
Yes, I know
You may want to give up on you
When
Instead you should just
Surrender,
When
Instead you should just
Stay the course,
When
Instead you should just
See Your Angels
All around you,
Embrace your miracles,
And become
Your own Badass.

Yes, I know
It is a struggle.
Yes, I know
It is hell.
Yes, I know
You will evolve.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Little Minds, Little Minds

PHL to SETAC to Sedona 3 20 16 088

Little minds,
Little minds
Please don’t
Distort, defile, define
My reality;
I don’t need
Your language of violence,
Your language of oppression,
Your language of fear.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please
Go run and play with
Someone else’s soul
And leave mine alone;
I am not your playground.

Little minds,
Little minds
Your swirling evil
Blurs my vision,
Hurts my ears
And numbs my skin.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please:
I sojourn through worlds
That you won’t
Allow yourself to comprehend.

Little minds,
Little minds
Please
Let me bring you here,
But you have to
First
Free yourself
Of the violence that binds you
Of the oppression that binds you
Of the fear that binds you.

Little minds,
Little minds,
Thank you for being
And
Thank you for teaching
Me patience, serenity,
And temperance
Again.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

You Who Questions (I Who Learns)

September 26 2015 111

In the deepest part of the night
When silence replaced commotion
And the cries of suffering souls
Were more easily discerned,
My path intersected with yours;
Our words becoming interwoven
On the electronic page.

You who questions
In a half-sorta-kinda way
(Was it sarcasm dripping:
I’m still not sure)
Like a lightning bolt that
Flashed deep into my soul
To that faraway place
Of transcended yesterdays.

There,
I had fought my way
With submission and suicidal self-loathing
Out of school buses ruled by bullies
And into those governed by men
Who sought to take that which no one gives
And repulsed those beasts with such rage
That they rightly feared for their lives.

I, who have seen childhood nights
Blossom into hells created by psychosis
And rage by those who parented me,
Learned to know me
Learned to know waking and dream worlds
As safe and loving
And learned to challenge evil
At its every turn on my path.

Imperfect, I
Shattered windows, walls,
Windshields, and hearts
During my clumsy evolution;
Those painful episodes
And subsequent amends
Now distant mileposts,
But always significant lessons.

Yes, your words
I gave immense power
To take me to such places,
To recall being so hurt,
So sensitive that my only safety
Was so far deep inside my writing
That nothing and no one could harm
That nothing and no one could enter.

Too,
My words and wit
Once won me many a fight
(Or, misunderstandings that
Evolved into silly battles of egos)
That served only to bloody the souls
Of all involved.

Those, too, are of my past.
I will not hide my faith,
I will not rage on you or me,
I will not dig deep into you
And subject to ridicule
Your motivation,
Your being,
Your pain,
Your path.

Instead,
I who learns,
I who meditates,
I who listens to The Angels,
I who knows my path
And respects you on yours;
I send in The Angels
And embrace gratitude
Because I can turn my cheek.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

The Gift (One Year’s Poems)

PHL to SETAC to Sedona 3 20 16 926

With love
I have given
You, Dear Reader,
Glimpses into my soul;
Perhaps even
Glimpses into yours.
In these poems
I have celebrated
The joys of my path,
The trials of my being,
The depth of my spiritual love,
The evil I have evolved beyond.

What adventures
I have revealed
And
You have known
In these letters growing into words
Into lines into stanzas into poems.

Know, Dear Reader,
That these creations
Flow from The Universe
Though me
Onto to the page
Through you.

Thank you
For your eyes,
Thank you
For your words,
Thank you
For this connection
Via these letters, words, lines, and poems
Between the you and the me
In the waking and dream worlds
On our separate journeys.

Thank you
For the gift
That comes with
This poet having been read,
His poetry having been ingested,
His life having evolved into spiritual art.

I wish for you
The Angels
And the bliss,
And the abundance,
And the strength,
And the wisdom
That they bring.

Namaste.

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Last March, Kathy helped me launch my blog, Empathetic Perspective. It has been a wonderful and crazy year in both my waking and dream worlds, it having been characterized by bliss, abundance, and miracles. To celebrate this part of my path, I was recently directed during a meditation session to give the gift of a brief individualized reading to each person following my blog. If you are following it and are interested in receiving this gift, please email me at johndavidhigham@gmail.com for details.

Thank you.

Last Night (I Asked the Angels)

Windfall Armenia MT 3 3 2016 313

Last night
Before slumber
Calmed my body and soul,
I asked
The Angels
To
Please grant me
More strength
Than I need,
Please grant me
More love
Than I deserve,
Please grant me
More patience
Than I’ve ever known,
And
Please grant me the persistence
Of the ocean,
The gentleness
Of the deer,
The power
Of the horse,
The spirit
Of the eagle,
And
The secrets
Of the lynx.

Angels, I said,
In this way
I will know and follow
My path
Through the sunniest day
And the darkest night,
Through love and war,
Celebration and grief,
Immersion and detachment,
Commotion and silence.

I then slept so
Soundly,
Awakening
To find all the gifts
I had needed:
Nothing more,
Nothing less.

 

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham

Questions Seven

Sedona July 7 2015 039

When called
By the wind
By the birds
By the clouds,
Will you know enough
To listen and silence
All the mundane turbulence
That pollutes your soul
And steals your energy?

When called
By the owl
Will you listen with your soul
And find the deception in others
And yourself?

When touched
By The Angels
Will you then touch the hearts of others
Like when you were a child
And your world was vivid as
Endless summer days?

When miracles
Blaze your path
Will you stop and thank
The Universe,
Accept that you are worthy,
And give as freely
As you have been given?

When called
By the mountains
Will you allow yourself to become
More of an explorer then you imagined
You could ever be?

When the sun
Fills your soul,
Will you stop the flow
By posing demanding questions
Whose answers are as empty
As their meanings?

When being reborn
Will you
Transcend,
Evolve,
Shed,
Release,
Become one,
Love,
Vibrate,
And
Surrender
In your faith now so strong
You know it only by living it?

These questions I ask
Of you
Of me
And answer not with words.

 

 

© copyright 2016 John David Higham