Just Enough

Do you love Him enough
to do His work even
when your job is painful
agonizing and bitter?
When the clock hand plays with your
joy strings.

Do you love Him enough that
you would do the work
even when you're intoxicated by the
fleeting allocades, heart felt praises and
the spellbound focus of surrounding hearts?
Oh the results of what you've birthed,
projected by the world!

Would you love Him still
when you're in that 'Dream-Team flow'?
A zone so pure, any infidelity is flung out.
When the only time you breath deep, is right before
you sleep.
And like a plane propeller that doesn't
know between hot and cold air except that it moves -
do you move for Him?

Is He making your burden light and yoke easy??

Why do you suffer?
Why are you in bliss?

Nice to meet you. You came like a water rush.
Everything aligned so perfectly like it was
supposed to be..
I would have missed this miraculous flow if I
didn't first align, release and gain my footing
on to a higher level, meant for me.
I could have easily missed every opportunity,
but I fought, and made a decision and
everything fell, and keeps falling.... into place.

In the unveil

Hear my call. Hear my pain.
It doesn't need to be but it is. The unveil is too taunt to go back.
And now it rips open apart showing the dust and the gold.
Shining through the masks and through the transparent,
is a light that was always present.

We know where we need to go.
We know the calls we must make.
We know the familiar that we must abandon.
I don't eat the same anymore.
I toss my head on my pillow entering the ethers.
I long for your touch, but I yet to hold myself long.
I smile at fruits and plants and sparkles of nature.
I'm still yearning for balance though scales reign my essence.
I overdose on honey and sesame crunch unknowingly
prying through tension.

In the unveil

Hear my call. Hear my pain.
It doesn't need to be but it is. The unveil is too taunt to go back.
And now it rips open apart showing the dust and the gold.
Shining through the masks and through the transparent,
is a light that was always present.

We know where we need to go.
We know the calls we must make.
We know the familiar that we must abandon.
I don't eat the same anymore.
I toss my head on my pillow entering the ethers.
I long for your touch, but I yet to hold myself long.
I smile at fruits and plants and sparkles of nature.
I'm still yearning for balance though scales reign my essence.
I overdose on honey and sesame crunch unknowingly
prying through tension.

Strange Men

They take their leisure time
they take their flicks of woman that
prance back and forth along the sidewalk gray.
They sit. They stand. They stare.
Open. Closed.
They laugh among themselves as if they were in
on the biggest secret known to man.

The cement and the broken glass below.
The loose electrical wires and cloudy skies above.
"Wonder what new creature will past?" they ask.
I wonder what new creature will past their street.
What new topic can they turn on their tongues.
Tongues that are numb from the cold $2 beer.
Tongues accustom to the dry, calming draws of
their slender cigarettes.
Who can pity them? Who can ignore them?

As the sun settle again back to its safe retreat,
these men draw in air one last time and
look onward inside for their next
distraction.

It

Fuck it. I’ll admit it. I’m trying to

reach perfection. Perfect this.

 Perfect that. Hoping that this perfection

will settle the sand to the bottom and clear

the muddy water, so  I can enjoy the perfect life.

And the perfect lover, perfect homes, perfect

cars, with perfect friends with perfect

light and perfect walkway as

I dance across the floor.

Even the perfect mike, so I sing,

that sad, pitiful like no more.

Yes I’m trying to attain it.

I've even read the books

sat on my bottom, trying to contain it.

Sat Indian style, trying to inhale it.

Pretty perfect picture – Buddah, Jesus, Krishna,

a flower, a stone. I still seem planets away from perfection.

Yet I enjoy looking at it. Every part of it as I walk down the street.

I grab a little here, take a whiff there, listen to some of it

everywhere.

But really

the only thing perfect is …..this…. moment.

As the lotus opens up and float downstream,
reaching every corner without much harm,

it blooms even more beautifully, relieved

that it was made perfect for this moment.

(c) 2013 Misa Ney