Sensation muddles to indigo,
releasing tenacious fingers
from inner folds.

Boiled blood cools
back to mundane,
reason senses relief.

After-shocks tremor
a cathartic release
of peristaltic action.

Shape shifter carrying on
suspended in time,
I see a thousand of you
and hear hundreds of voices,
each singing a different meditation
a coach ride apart.

Pesticides in the darkening earth,
formaldehyde in a blackening womb,
beatrified without any losses,
pall bearer of youth,
collector of golden teeth,
show yourself to me.

Engulfed wth the flesh of empathy
you empower the chisel and the stone
to give you indelible form while
ancestral faces float by in cloud,
stoic speechless entities
offering only wonderment

Should there be any other type of love? I aspire to love's being unconditional always.

Time is punctuated between intervals of notes blown and beaten out by a military band in battle. It stretches out and then shrinks into nothingness, all the while marked by the moment we live. As it longs, it hardens furrows and bones, only thought flows, punctuated between intervals of thaw. Time takes away our young, it leaves us yearning for the past, searching the tundra, for any marks of life.

Your words
marinated
somewhere
in the soft
recesses
of my brain.

Resonating there
like whale songs
bouncing
from hemisphere
to hemisphere
crossing the great
corpus collusum.

Leaving me to dangle
by your sentiment
upon bitten finger nails

I am as new to the internet world of blogging and chatting as my profile dates my joining Gaia. As a neophyte I have been watching every day as persons fly through some aspect of me here and zip off without comment. I see this pattern repeated on many blogs, and group discussions, I consider this rather rude. I am not saying that some people are not like that by nature, not rude but somewhat shy about communicating. I can understand this and would hope that they would open up and touch base with me at some conjecture of our lives here.For the few that passed along their wisdom I can't tell you what it felt like esp. at the early postings. As for the rest of the just under a hundred persons who viewed my blog and felt whatever, I do hope your not all voyeurs( I am being facetious) or that I am so disinteresting that I should look more closely at my reasons for being here. I keep telling myself it's for some form of posterities sake,perhaps for future graduate students in the social sciences to analyze, but I do know that it is not to achieve 15 minutes of fame. It may very well be that I seek like minded individuals to exchange ideas that one can be thankful for. If that thankfulness is that fame, then I am guilty of some form of vanity. I see this communication as healthy for us all here at Gaia, but one sided communication is disfunctional.If you are reading something you like say so, or drop some seeds anonymously, I don't know the answer but if someone would like to comment, I'd applaud you.

We don't hear poems
We whisper them
to ourselves

Not so public
everyone finds
what they need

You cannot
hum a poem
it has no voice

Hung out like a
flapping prayer
flag

Like memory
seeking
recognition

forgotten colours
and lost
dances

stumbled upon
touched by and
changed forever

The perfume of your essence
engulfs my every follicle,
raising hairs on the nape of my neck
like that of a cats'.
Exploding in a firework display
of olfactory sensation.

Immediacy of sensory perception
implode the pleasure center of my brain.
Stroking at my amagydalea,
stimulating archetypal regions
to move grammatically,
in rhythms beyond the ability of audition.

I snap out of the lock,
and familiar memories grab a hold
I am coldly drawn back
to chorus with this reality.
You enter the room
But then I already knew.

   What is empathy on a crutch? Primarily it might be viewed as compassion. I know that compassion is held as a high note in our culture, but what if it is as I am suggesting , that it is but a weaker form of empathy?

   It is widely accepted that people do not need, or benefit, from sympathy. It in itself is perhaps the most accepted watered down version of empathy. I see compassion and sympathy as falling degrees of empathy. Why?

    Sympathy is a personal feeling, compassion lets us feel-out  the concerns of the "other", and finally empathy lets us feel as the "other" feels. Alturism is the active or applied empathy.

    And so I find that empathy is a trait that is displayed cross-culturally and that it is at the root of our social being. Altruistic behaviour is at the high-end of empathetic behaviour since it implies movement within empathetic means.And yes much has been said about the altruistic gene but what endeavours have been made to define empathy as the root of this range of human behaviour?

The hive is alive with movement
en-mass crawling over-and-over
A break can be found
a stillness of space
tranquility in a spot
bring your own bottle
and introduce your fears around
Spread yourself thin
just be there
Blotches turn to blemishes
into conditions
with underlying themes
masking with mark
impenetrable crust
from the scars
of the tranquil
Goodness hardening over
futures remain in the past
No where to go
but back