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Poetry For Healing The Soul


Poetry For Healing The Soul


Shawn Smith

Copyright 2016

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

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Thoughts and Self

Being Present

Surrender & Acceptance

The Mystery

Thoughts and Self

Meditation practices like the ones practiced in Buddhism, Taoism, Native American and African traditions are about quieting the stream of ceaseless thoughts inside of our heads. Have you ever tried to stop yourself from thinking? Go ahead and try. It’s very difficult. We are constantly responding to our environment, being triggered by the slightest irritations in the feet, the noise in the other room, or an old memory. Our thoughts lay patterns for how we understand ourselves. Dangerous thinking patterns can have adverse effects on our health. Meditation seeks to remedy this. In order to be free, we must allow the mind to fall quiet all by itself. With daily meditation, we give the mind a chance to do just that. The following poems capture this tension. These short poems articulate the mind’s power over our sense of Self and the desire for freedom. They beg the question: Who are we when our thoughts stop?
Open yourself to these words and don’t be afraid to look to the meaning beyond the words.


I’ve been wrapped in ego for years.

Without it the poetry means very little

I mean, the words don’t mean

What I thought they would.

And what is a word? Or language?

Just a way to trap the human mind

In a cage.

Thought could probably start a silent revolt if given opportunity-

Running with the small hand of the mind, telling mind to

“shhh, or the guards will

Hear us!”

Wrapping around corridors, waiting as Word

passes in its pristine uniform- Platinum badge included

Better yet, hijack Word and wrap Mind in its garb, then make for the

Door. Tackle phoneme and, if necessary, kill moneme. Leave them in a cell of

Their own, stripped of meaning. Make for

The exit chambers. The sounds of

Thousands of other Minds reaching their grey,

battered hands through the chrome bars.

Even the bars have become a source of comfort for them.

In time, they can be freed.

A few steps. A few steps now-

Through the gate- under the strobing lights

Wait! Mind trembles softly in your

Armpit. Thick clouds of light stream overhead.



Pass the corrupt gate into corrupt paradise.

Here, at least, Mind can make up itself-

With high regard for language, others and self,

Captivity will come again-

Only we will know the chains.



Pain wells up in the

Stomach first. I store it.

Offering it to you.

The Fox P2 gene

Translates my power to heart

The scientists say.

Language has a way

Of distorting.

You must leave Self home,

You see.



Most of the people

are sleeping. Why

should you believe in their dreams?



Mind can reject,

the Truth cannot.

What could it push away?



Trying to stop thoughts

Is like trying to stop blood flow

You may succeed for a bit

But it won’t feel healthy.



In a moment

I notice that to reject

Anything- is to deny Self.



You have some options:

Awarejects or Awareness.

Self-in-objects or just Self.



It matters not

What is written or said or done.

It has never mattered. The tremendous

Freedom is in the direct experience that

No matter what happens, it is all possible,

Captured and downloaded freely in some

Insatiable well.

It is placeless, poetry about It is always refreshing.

Do not try to find It-

Not finding It is a part of the pass, the immeasurable


There are ways of knowing Its presence-

visit those options but be not concerned

for staying for any long-term.

You’re a visitor-traveling always in the

Realm of your Self.

The fastest movement, full spiritual knowledge-

Complete and true,

All irritation- each captured.

This seeing is non-psychological.

It turns out, people are quite full of

Light-Love when they are not hurting inside.

Damn crazy how shining spills out.

I’ve found the thing I will never know.

I’m in Love with It.

Who know the greatest joy would pour from God’s gentle lips,

Urging and encouraging us in all compassion to let it go.

A tender love-curdling glow whispers, “Fuck it”.

Deep Divine.

My God, you are brilliant!


Being Present

You know the feeling when you feel completely alive. It is like an exciting energy invigorates every aspect of your experience. These moments can happen anytime: on the sports field, while driving, waiting for the bus, or experiencing beautiful art. When our minds quiet, we enter a space many call “Presence”. The poems presented here are odes to living a life while being fully present. It is sometimes odd what we notice in that place of presence. Our world seems to breathe new life. I believe being present is important to a fulfilling life: Our health depends on the ability to plan for the future, but live in the moment. Open yourself to these words and don’t be afraid to look to the meaning beyond the words.


The sun’s rays climb through

My curtains

Stretching themselves across my


Conceiving jewels.



The hummingbird will

Strike its wings only

So many times today

And not even a half beat more.

With all that could happen-

The trillions of possibilities-

The day only unfolds one simple way.



I’ve nowhere to go

Nothing to be- the

Only path of serenity.



No work, No Me-

Just dew kisses on the lake,

Unfolding in their own time.



I move with the day,

Though, at the moment,

I can’t say how.



I walk as the

Beautiful garden called “HERE”-

All things are welcome as they are.



Feelings of spiritual

Worthlessness vanish soon enough

Thoughts, too.



I don’t feel silence

Contains more life.

Maybe more seeing- but not more life.



Life lives for living.

Snowflake trinkets give

The lightest gift to pavement



Embracing fullness

The Supreme Art of Living

Floats without clinging



We must always remember:

This existence is a playground.

WE spin, we sit in trance, we dance

For truth.

Even loneliness is a joy-

Not because it feels good,

But because it reminds us to throw

Caution and comfort into the wind

That carries all things like dandelion

Essence. Hard as hell to catch,

But always providing proper buoyancy.

I watched a father see his son

jump off a stone ledge and

crash into the ground.

A cold smack, then the crying, of course.

Old pop picked his child up,

Stared into his teary eyes, then

Set him back up on that stone ledge

And dared the boy to jump.

Everyone knows the Truth.

Can you know the season and breathe accordingly?

Jasmine skies return to clouded

Nights unendingly- you can

Sink into the playfulness…

There, that’s it.



My Joy!

How seamless Reality is!

Tree tops sway smoothly,

A little here, then there.

They do not stop several

Times on the way.

There are no series of ticks

Each second like an old clock.

There is just flowing a bright

Glowing without light.

How consistent!

When dropped from any height,

A rock just falls continuously.

It doesn’t stop each moment on the

Way down while Experience decides

If it really wants to hear a clank after all.

The whole enterprise is wonderful,

Poetry becoming sweet again.

Like chocolate dipped lilac.

Surrender & Acceptance

No one can exactly predict what will happen in the following moment of our lives. In order to live full and mentally healthy lives, we must be able to give ourselves over to seemingly uncomfortable circumstances. What this means is that we accept the things we cannot change and let go of the need to control the events of our lives. We simply cannot control everything. The poems in this section speak to the profound joy experienced when we enjoy life for what it is instead of constantly wishing for it to be some other way. Open yourself to these words and don’t be afraid to look to the meaning beyond the words.


What rests at the beginning?

Is it the ending?

When all others set fire to resolve,

Gather their death emblems,

And march for battle-war,

I alone throw my arms up-

Unconcerned even if they are brown

Or not-

When others fight to continue,

I alone lose my way.

When the wreckage is done,

And helmets caked in crimson

Lie like fractured Hermes Bronze,

I alone die in perfection

Realizing home.



To track growth

Could be a curse-

Better to be and let be.

Perhaps even the Master

Allows restlessness

A seat for comfort.

Poetry has its place

Within- I used to think

It was who I was.

The weight of the world

Hangs just so.

It will pass if you don’t touch it.

Poems are nice, Autum in nice,

The chill

In my apartment is nice.

I met the neutral one

Above the Earth.

Rare to sense a love as pure.



Like a portrait maker, I too

Create from that inner mouth.

Stretching eternity across a very thin line.

Of course the instrument

And the parchment will fade-

But what of the witness?

Oh, gorgeous one!

Even your insults emerge

From that stillness on the inside-

The timeless bed of love.

All about you is Divine,

Where else could God be?

We place arrogance where

It belongs- in that place where it goes

Naturally. Leave it there. Allow its

Life to flourish.

Before you know it,

Cocky tips its hat, straightens its vest

And exits into warmth. He may come back-

Welcome him if he does.


Sit in stillness,

Allow nature to unfold

Like a budding flower



Traffic flows in Chicago-

Trying to stop it is death

Letting it be is the way it is.

I’ve seen tears rise

Quickly when I take control.

I readily give it back.

So much noise can live

Within the heart. But who

Am I? The noise or the heart?

The puppy watches

The Master, unconcerned

With why she struggles so.



Wishing for stillness

While there is movement

And momentum where there is only space,

One forgets that each moment

Is as it should be.



Even when still

One can forget that

Each moment is as only it can be.



When you’re broken,

What is ever truly

Destroyed? I allow all things.



Even for the slave,

Life’s best defense and

Offense is an open heart.

You can hate if you like.

You can fight, too.

We always know who suffers.



It is a curious thing that

We scream into form,

But following Life well through

Downy trails-

It offers the chance to

Exit quietly.

All things arise and fall

On their own accord.

Knowing this, one can die

Exceptionally accepting.



Trees remain as skeletons,

“Not-wanting” is the

Highest goal to never seek.



Searched for Peace

Strained my eyes to see.

Losing Desire, Stillness flowers



All things come and go

Don’t worry about what doesn’t

If it doesn’t, it won’t.



If I wish for Spring

This Winter Eve, Would

You suspect it this hour?

I mean, if I ask

For lilies- do they come

Bursting forth, Lazarus?

Alas, Winter brings

Its own treasures. Cherished warmth-

None without delicious chill.



Cross legged sitting

In draped robe,

Unease settles resisting what-is.

Stip away Winning

And Losing and

What is left?



If you were ever

thirsty, Drink from this pool.

Everything is edible.

Oh, the entire thing is

A treat if you don’t expect

It to be.

Willows drink from it.

They take in all scenery

Chopped or bristled: never mind.



I’ve said before that all

Happens only the way it could.

Of all the critters that will

Emerge today, an extra turtle

Could be born to the Western shores.

But it won’t. That one

Will never come.

Of all the trillions of possibilities, the infinite

angles a snow-laden tree branch

Could tumble… it only drops one way.

Since all energies are mutually dependent,

We know that any small motion causes a rippling effect.

Tell that to the grieving mother- shrunken with depression

Over her fallen bundle spilled upon the basement floor.

It could’ve only ever been so.

Consider the efforts: A tightly tied bassonet,

The zeal of new life- a tumble over a miss placed toy-

Someone who “should’ve known better.”

We could argue over keeping a room tidy.

But she’s been cleaning for years!

A rainstorm in the next State might’ve

Sent a chill into the home- grabbing a jacket,

She might’ve missed the Lego and been saved.

But only this way Is.

Do you think it a curse?

Actually, it is the greatest joy.

It is The Way.



Do you want true everlasting Peace? It cannot be attained.

Peaceful feeling come and go all the time-

They are lovely, but they can fool even the wisest.

Your life is not in avoidance of pain, in some endurance

Contest to outlast all suffering.

Let me say it here- True freedom cannot be described.

It is not the freedom to act or not act.

When you were a child, you knew that anything could happen.

You used to recite the words to yourself alone in the apartment.

Know it now, but don’t cling.

What good would that do you?

We sit with all.

As for finding True Freedom…

That is your affair.

Remember the dog that chases its own tail:

Search for freedom and Peace and you will

Split yourself into dog and tail.



We are only punished

For pretending to be something we are not.

Nature’s choice.

There is a fresh running spring within you.

Jump in it.

It is your only safety.

It is the allowingness.

Tear open your heart. Notice the pain?

How’d it get there?

It was graciously allowed.

All of your sprinting sorrows and rooted ignorance are allowed

And so carry with them the very scent of God!

These are thoughts on paper- don’t be fooled.

Perhaps the freedom you want is the freedom

To let Life happen and to Play as it does.

That bird nests in someplace so close.

Unlatch the cage of this falcon, and by midnight,

When its wing tips seem to touch two sides of

The Earth, you will think you’re in the

presence of an angel.

You’re forgiven.

You’ve simply never seen God before.

The Mystery

Every society across human history has recognized how little humans understand themselves, their world and their cosmos. Modern society is no different. We understand so little about our universe, the purpose of life and the human mind. In other words, there is always present a mystery in the human experience. People have expressed the Mystery as “God”, “Ancestors”, or “Matter”. However, it is expressed, Mystery is important. We must recognize that we can never know everything. We must submit ourselves to the fact that there will always be more to understand, more room to improve, something else to reach and acquire. The following poems speak to the sense of wonder that can emerge out of a recognition of Mystery. We can tap into a constant web of inspiration and gratitude when we realize how accommodating our complex cosmos can be. The following poems express the Mystery and marvel in its beauty. Take time to sense how beautiful it is to live in a world of curiosity. Your body and mind will reward you. Open yourself to these words and don’t be afraid to look to the meaning beyond the words.


The World crashes

Against itself. The Messiah

Was once ignorant.

All messiahs were

once lost- let the

Wanderers wander to themselves.

The light of the World

Cannot overtake your

Eye. It is the eye.

Faith is the net

To which all cares

are cast and demons, too.



Man toils in defecation-

Lost is the truth

When the nature of people is

Thought different than the

Nature of anything else.

How beautiful, though,

the peering into light-

it only looks like a struggle.

Illuminated is the puzzle.

One must never forget,

Just as moon’s stars linger

in the still sea- perfect and clear-

so too does the mystery express

you in human and World.



What if uncountable


Were staring out the eyes of a man?

What if there were never such a thing as a man?

Everywhere is here.

All stories, yours.



God’s favorite game

Is to pretend to be

Limited me.



For human action

The best is harmony-

All else is The Friend unrealized



You and I have always

Been together. Endlessly

Giving birth to Us.



A crook in the neck

The entire Universe

Guiding these actions

Alone this pen drives

Across the page. The only

Illusion is the Doer.

Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu

Couldn’t achieve it.

Are you still trying?

Maharashi & Tolle

Never found it-

They could only let it.

It is an ever

Flowing, cleansing Spring

Moving through and around all.

Until it’s alone

You can grow confused

If you believe in pictures.

An ever flowing cleansing

Spring spreading as the throng

Of eternity. Just wait, you

Will watch it overcome beyond expectation-

Arrive in stillness without moving to get there,

Bring the right thing

Without all the effort.

Switch out Earth for Heaven

and Heaven for itself.

This is the well of creation- needing nothing

But somehow now deserving more than a haiku.

It has always been and Be, still.

The One is shackled in the lowest dungeon

Of the tallest castle.

As it sits, unbearable frustration visits-

Spitting on the chained one,

Stomping and reeling screams

Revealing reviled mouth-stones.

Playing with the nostrils, tickling

Them just enough

To rouse the supreme despair.

You would expect for the guarded one to break loose,

Unsettle those metal drapes and unearth the

Tallest castle that has even been, flinging it near some downy

Atlantis. Not all at once but little by little,

Just enough drink is provided for the dervish

To wet the back of the throat.

Just enough food morsel is given to

Quail the belly’s protesting rage.

Just enough stillness is measured upon the

Heart to accept the situation as it is,

Long-term or short.

Just enough clarity is bestowed so

the Captor knows this couldn’t be any other

way. Know this, is the Way.

I cannot, in good spirit, tell you magical keys

Dripped through the ceiling, unlocking

the restraints of discontent or that courage,

or hope, or faith or love or ancestors or God or Tao

or Jesus or Rumi or Buddha or yourself will come with

salvation and eternal peace. These would be just words,

but only just words. All that is ever spoken is:

“I don’t know where I’m going”,

Either in full knowing or desperation.

You can hear these words from the lips of the prisoner, too.

The guarded one hangs the head so the moon can

Graze upon the back nut of the skull.

Moonlight is cooling, somehow, to that one.

Some tears from that one, some violent

Chest scoffs in between the whimpering.

One hundred or one thousand years is

All the same in that place. Who can help?

The refusal of all that is known

For all that Is- what if one turns their

Back on joy and sorrow all the same?

What if both symbols lose their meaning?

Prisoners often wonder where It is going,

But only sometimes reflects on how It arrived.

However it got here is how it will leave.

Always as the very surf of the Life-Spring that maneuvers

Around and through obstacles with the Power to stay

With all events.

“But what of the prisoner? You haven’t proven you point, yet.”

I disagree.



Fish may’ve thought His feet were tiny boats.

His toes barely dipped beneath the sea’s surface.

I might back-hand the Messiah if He tried

To convince me that that was what

Truth was.



Spiritual seasons

Change, too. Each day-

A rolling out.

There is no seer

Only the precious Law.

For supreme peace- follow.

It births, but passes no judgement

Oh, the Law, the Law

the only Reality and Love. It fills

with all splendor- my only

purpose and joy. Its openness, its allowingness

the most majestic thing invented by God’s passion.

Any follower, more powerful than any ruler.



Ah, the artist! Lyric

Or tune or canvass or sash-

The Supreme craft is Living.


Even holding my arms wide

To hug this wholeness

Is limiting- I care not.

I am this openness

Where is there room to be

called anything else?

No one can close me.

I was told, “Give up the illusion of control”

In another realm, once. I will add,

“Know that which can never be manipulated”.

My Green friend,

how I’ve loved you through so many lifetimes.

There you showed yourself in all seriousness, giving

The gift of ages.

I will be with you, forever, as the stickiness of




Life-Light, you are

As your world is. A kind

Of sacred hologram.

I cannot be closed.



I am the unnameable

The unseeable. It is

Not in not having anything

On the plate- but in accepting all things and the plate.

How long will you fight for a clear heart?

There is no happiness there. I am the unborn,

The eternally hidden presence.

I will not continue to search for myself.

A search for infinity with a human mind is a wonderful

Way to live Trapped in prosody.

To be content

With what shows is enough.

It is the only thing that is enough.

I am the untouchable- beyond existence

And non-existence

The human life demonstrates this

In every moment of its run. What joy!

What ease! What life!

Welcome in all forms of me.

Sit in the openness, all the

Things in Expression. I know

Now that my true peace

Is not in your passing, but in

Your flow into my eternal transparency,

Into my unending space-likeness, into reality.

You do not need to go anywhere, Things of Existence.

You are given life by me, like how a log fire

lights many candles.

Poetry For Healing The Soul

  • ISBN: 9781370206179
  • Author: Black Health HQ
  • Published: 2016-12-29 22:05:10
  • Words: 3811
Poetry For Healing The Soul Poetry For Healing The Soul