Space

Day and night are illusions of mind,
they show the world in form and time.
Just as the space, between the trees,
shows the place, from which they breathe.

Without the space, between the trees,
how on earth could they possibly be?
Be in their form and visually there,
distinct, unique and separate from air.

Without the light shinning on me,
how on earth could I possibly Be?
Be in this space, and visually here,
without light to say, see she is there.

The sight of the mind, alone cannot not know,
from where we came, and how we grow.
For light and space give truth to form,
and in truth, is where we are actually born.

Born through space and into the light,
wanting just to Be, day or night.

by KCH

Pics and Poems: war correspondent by David King

Click on this link to read a poem by David King. I love his work.
Pics and Poems: war correspondent

Family Christmas

Tis the season, fun and folly,
making jokes about Aunt Molly.

Laughter, love and giving free,
drunken stumbles upon the tree.

Cup in hand and spreading cheer, 
flying upon the nearest reindeer.

Apologizing to Uncle John,
as he's the reindeer I rode upon.

Granny's teeth fell in the pot,
a six pack down I say, "why not".

Sipping stew and full of folly,
shooting Spitballs at Aunt Molly.

That'll teach her a thing or two,
I say while sipping granny's stew.

Vultures gnawing on the wrapper,
one more gift for the crapper.

Kissing under mistletoe,
regretting it was Uncle Joe!

Sneaking out upon the roof,
hoping to wrangle just one hoof.

There goes one! I reel 'em in.
Holy crap it's Aunty Gin!

Off the roof into the snow,
at least it wasn't Uncle Joe!

Change into my santa suit,
damn I'm looking mighty cute.

Stumble down the stairs for fun,
little kiddies on the run.

Wait little girl, I'm Santa Claus!
daddy grips me with his paws.

Come on son, follow me,
I have something you should see.

Boot in ass I'm flying high,
reindeer soaring through the sky.

Hello Rudolph, hey there Donner,
boy I thought I was a goner!

Well this was fun spreading cheer,
can't wait to see you all next year.

But if I don't, it's just as well,
cousin Karen's looking swell.

To Sing

Night is calling me to sing,
of love, mercy & beautiful things.


My voice awakens to the call,
nerves on end, I wish to stall.


Stammer, cackle, choking out,
offensive noise fluttering about.


Deafening sounds offend most high,
Lord, I made the angels cry!