each word that is spoken,
is a thought that was stolen.

each sentence that we externally make,
is a train of thoughts about to break.

each paragraph that we conceive,
is rendering us able to deceive.

each story we tell, and each tale we told;
begins to rot and decay as they grow old.

by zonabi
http://www.zonabi.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=1112

i should really do some more creative writing... ive kind of put that off for a while now...

always good to get in touch with our creative side, especially in writing poetry. i feel like the words just flow out of my mind onto the paper (or screen, in these cases)

most of these are written in-the-moment, without much prior thinking/planning.

similar to channelling i would guess.

from coast to coast
there's an invisible ghost
he walks and he floats
amongst cars and boats

his presence is felt, but hardly known
he can receive calls, just not on the phone

his motives are many, his feelings may be few
but in this time of turmoil, he's looking after you

his mind is his body, and his body is his mind
the dimension he's familiar with, is the one of time

he has no sex, he has no gender
all these things he had to surrender

he has no hands, nor does he feet,
he can't taste sour, he can't taste sweet.

above the clouds, and below the sand
this special spirit watches over the land.

the land to the west, the land to the east
he was even there, for the last feast.

his age is innumerable, his face unknown,
but when you see him, you will be home.

by josé

energy flows from head to toes
yet no one knows
the possibility of our ability

the earth is ours
it gives us powers
it gives us flowers

as we sit in our towers,
where go all the hours?

time keeps on going
even without us knowing
the sun keeps glowing
the water keeps flowing

we take this for granted
that if a seed is planted,
a tree will grow.

the tree needs water
the tree needs care
the tree feeds people
the tree cleans air

we take this for granted
that if a seed is planted,
a tree will grow.

by josé

so, i'd like to share one of my newer, and better (IMHO) poems;

"maybe"

a trap that isnt any more
is a sky that becomes a floor.

the energy that is in store
can create opportunity's door.

the bottle that washed to shore
contains a word, but is much more.

it is our destiny to explore
from the inside of earth's core
to the depths of space unseen before.

once in a lifetime
just at the right time
we are awakened to our true purpose.

our soul from inside
which usually seems to hide
expands far and wide.

it extends into the future
and retracts to the past.
this should make it clear
that souls are meant to last.

but what clouds our vision?
what distorts our memory??
why can't we remember our mission???
is it because of an enemy????

what makes an enemy ?
where do these labels come from ?
is it someone who opposed thee ?
or one who calls you dumb ?

what constructs an adversary,
other than your own mind ?

what deducts your preferences,
in the people of your own kind ?

notice all the labels
we place upon the tables
the imaginary fables
that render us unable
to maintain a stable
cooperative existance!

polarity causes seperations
in and between all of the nations.

duality reigns conflict
and allows them to inflict
judgement and pain.

if we can open our eyes
and slowly realize
that we are all one in the same
then maybe one day
in the future far away
we WILL have happy lives.