night wish anndr pazyniuk

Who wants to tell their tales

when they scream from the pits of hell

would you see the innocence shrieking at its loss

or paint their cries with the masks of disbelief

and deny their existence

in the place they found their selves to be cast

into a chamber of a dungeon

to spare yourselves

the task to acknowledge what was done

you cannot lock them up and throw away the key

its a neural network that leaves its mark

on destiny

the survivors know it all too well

the scars inside

no matter if you cannot see

do not remain hidden

a blemish on lives

no one wants to bare

the few who stand

face scrutiny and often blame

when into the dark they walk

to bare it all

to stay silent aligns with the crime

yet when the truth is revealed

few believe

yet more and more will speak

until the silence is removed

and from the depths of innocence

the blood of pain

shall be revealed

and its echoes

shall not cease

behind the black you cannot see

what is hidden there

anonymity screams

and shatters the facade

you wear

to turn away from truth

shall not cloak

the soul

when its time is due

Ridicule not those who grieve

and come forth into the light

to be warriors of the truth

to turn away

impales the hook

into the deeds of society

if change is not met

to see the courage

to come from the shadows

and speak

for if you cannot be a protector of truth

what lies do you hide

in the deeds you do


How r u

ocean in sky

I am fine and not fine all at the same time…

good and bad all at the same time…

awake and asleep all at the same time…

I am…

open and closed all at the same time…

I am in a place where all is well independent of the nature of dualities…

not sure how I am, other than…I know I just am.

…a recluse in the depths of process…

and an albatross in the light of comeuppance.

Treading water but entrenched in roots of time

watching thoughts roll like waves flowing…

sitting in the depths where all is calm…

I am

an ocean in the sky

at times… in the ether at the interface between the two

I am

a sky in the ocean

a mere reflection

of you


He asks…How r u

and when my thoughts run through

I ask…

How’s that for an honest answer?


Know Thyself


charioteer of delphi

What are we here for

if not to speak the truth?

Is not our purpose here

to learn the

truth of ourselves?


The Ancient Greek aphorism “know thyself” (Greek: γνῶθι σεαυτόν, transliterated: gnōthi seauton; also … σαυτόν … sauton with the ε contracted), is one of the Delphic maxims and was inscribed in the pronaos (forecourt) of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi according to the Greek writer Pausanias (10.24.1).

What’s the origin of the phrase ‘Physician heal thyself’? From the Bible, Luke 4:23 (King James Version): And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also here in thy country.



Their deeds complete

they compete against truth

the masks of love to wear

the ego slips in unaware

for if love was there

never would it have been defiled

to try to resuscitate it back alive

when off the path

you both have strayed

is a pinnacle

no amount of money can buy

the deed for flesh

pays back its due

always the heart wears its marks

for gain

no flag can drape across those lies

to help gain security

upon another’s demise

stakes its claim now

and impales you

upon a hook the greed lands

blindly abandoning

the truth of love

drowning in want

when all is said and done

it will strike chords

when all is lost

the resonance will not leave

until fate has played its hand

perchance the battle

uphill will be won

when truth takes the reigns

it always does

when the game ends

and what player will you see in you

when all the material fades so slowly away

and the beliefs slip from view

and reveal the signpost

you bypassed

and dismissed so long ago

will you turn from entanglements

and see the cesspool of hate

from the core

was the motivator

for what was done

to play its opposite is an acting game

best played on stage

and not in hearts

to steal and take and claim more

to cease and pause to reflect

upon the errors of thine ways

when the deed is complete

the truth no longer shall compete

for there it stands

to be a mother is a drive so natural

yet to see it as an act of selflessness

is not so much an act of purity

when it fills a drive to fill the needs of self

a sacrifice to bear for sure

where no disdain can be found

yet to side with another to take them for granted

is to squander

the purity of purpose therewith in to be found

to make concessions for such notions

sides in oneness with the crime

prisoners unto another

you have both become

by choice the difficulties will bare

the fruits of wisdom’s design

when eyes wide open

begin to see

for we all know love cannot be bought

simple pointed truths

within the circle of life

but oh how some try to survive by gain

at another’s sacrifice

a short cut that leads no where to love

but into the oblivion

when charades will no longer suffice

and the lies we tell ourselves will no longer do

for the love we crave

wrapped in money

will leave love destitute

it is a human condition

to transcend

some ascend and some descend

ironic how some dive into the pit

all the while thinking they are soaring to new heights…

until the moment of truth stands still

and in its presence there is nowhere to hide

its kinda sad to contemplate

for in some strange ways never would I have imagined

I’d ponder if its best for some to stay in the oblivion

for my master use to say

what good is it if a man wakes up too late

for when all has been lost perchance it is best he stays asleep


A tale of two lovers…that kept the emeshment alive over years…one perchance had a love that was true, and the other did not however over time this person came to believe they had to win this person over after they had gone on to sleep with others taking gains along the way. The sadness is the one who initially loved went on to get mired into a situation to be with another who was dying and this person kept on getting emeshed with this past lover. You see the illusions of love are strong, and keep us coming back for more, when the truth is some are good lovers, yet love is misplaced and illusory and is far from the equation of bonding within the union of a love rooted in truth. For gain the one who loved made a choice of survival to marry a dying man for gain. The illusion of spirited mindedness was played. While the other kept using others and making concessions for what this other was doing, and as time kept marching an inheritance was forthcoming, and the death of the other became complete and now the two join forces. It is sad to see lovers blinded by gain, thinking love is their aim when their actions taken were far from truths grounded in honor and nobility of purpose. Their coming together again with material gains will ultimately be their undoing, for the foundation laid to waste truth all along the way. Attachments are hard to discern from the truth of love, for all of us, thus it is not a disdain for them, but more an analysis of wisdom in actions to see where such acts will lead.


Truth Sings

Truth is Beauty


How do I tell a tale of woe

without it being a woe is me

experience we partake

life to unfold

a participant

active throughout it all

whether we want it or not

some things they pass

and some things ensnare

either way we find ourselves

along the way

our choice a destination

to reside within

a ride we rise and fall

and encircle ourselves

to be enslaved at times

at the beckon call

we exhale to thrive

a cathartic journey

a dream for some

like a fairy tale

and at times a nightmare

to escape

yet to stare the dragon in its face

and not flinch

and fade back to sleep

we peer into the unseen

and let light manifest

the deeds that devistate

to be wary of the imposters

that land upon the scene

is life what it seems

when we row our boats

down so many streams

and do we dare to navigate

the dungeons we create

or cast them aside

in a fury of ego theatrics

to deny their existence

when in the mirror

they reflect their pain

to see through and beyond

the facade

to be stripped bare

shall we dare to go there

and call out to the universe

our cry to leave the immortal trance

and rescue those

we love

to fall from grace

to land into the realms of mercy

where nothingness remains

and freedom reigns

into the heart of a healer

the soul travails

to return home

when its time is due

yet until then energy directed

can survive

all constraints of time

to absolve the choice

to wield the deliverance

of time

through it we travel

and beyond it

to be pure

the hope of darkness

radiates light to pursue

to cleanse the garment

we were given to wear

the spirits tear

and what shall be found there

amidst the auras

and ghosts within the ether

take not them with you

cast them not upon thy crown

for never were they yours to wear

remember this

in all you do

for none but you can do this task

to make the path clear

let not treachery follow you there

stew not in avarice

quick to act not out of spite

but to make time stand still

to capture the moment

for a picture tells a thousand words

the words you dare not utter

but I shall

to cleanse the debt and give it

its due

for some can be led

from their castes

back to be found at the holy gates

the echoes will play

harps or screams or all sorts of sounds

for what shall a life sing if not the truth


Picture:  “Truth is Beauty” sculpture by Marco Cochran

Vitriolic Empathy


It’s a bit vitriolic not out of malfeasance

but out of empathetic necessity

A pungency observed

eroding at common decency

a mirror neuron gap

in the fabric of society

calling it out

for what it is

for that is not the way to bliss

everyone wearing their sores

so covertly covered amidst

the draping of themselves in sheer fantasy beliefs

thinking they are the ideal self

when underneath the veneer

their greed stenches up their walk

false flattery is not found here

for without a shedding of the armor

the defenses are worn too thin

and the spineless slither and have no back

for their support is in the folly

of the wrath they don unaware

So a dose of acerbic oft

will cut

in to find that which is not sour


Some use vitriol to make a point

and some simply do not

with empathy

to deal with hard heads

yet after the burn

will the scars fade

from the truth we all must face

some will seethe

and simmer some more

until they are ready

to extricate

that which blinds them

boils their blood

and enrages them

but it’s only the lies

coursing through their veins

putrid and vile

inside to look

to clean the slate

from the putrid

notions clinging on

attachments like a cloak of mud

caked on

needing to be stripped off

the ego

like shackles

needs a bludgeoning so stark

to wipe it off

it does not die

an effortless death

gestalt in nature

to rattle the defenses

to wash them clean

to prick them out

to cut off its head

the snake within us all

the beast we all must face

the demons we carry

to shed once and for all

to rescue a heart


the breath of life

to breathe in free and clean

and exhale light

it only shines on those

hidden elements

that need manifestation

to scorch out

the pain and isolation and devastation

darkness and shadows reign

…if vitriol is used

it must be administered with skill

lest the scars remain

that never heal…

without empathy

souls are lost




light dna

A very evil thing

and it haunted me

turned me from my error

made me face my ways

so many years between there and here

just a reminder

constant in its aim

to go and sin no more…

be not a thief

less ye steal away

into grief

for these things we do

are written all over us

and in the process we become blind

or we wake up

and start to clear off the muck

layer by layer

to become


and ripe

By our acts we justify ourselves

we try ourselves through and through

oh the little we do at times to see these traits

running away continually from our truest form

yet it still screams to be heard

innocent and raw (innocent  and alone it echoes)

calling us back

to the heart

of the pure

the light and its fire

cleanses the soul

border-less love


to return

by grace we are called

and by mercy we see

through all humility

touch not the flesh

transit immortality

for we are

all transients

in the fields of energy

and imminent frequencies

emanating absolution everlasting

delivered from the abyss

of vileness and evil realms

avoid these dangers lest ye become a stranger to ye selves

To find the point of truth

like a needle pricks

the ground in the haystack of life in this plane

there you land

no escape

until it pricks your heart

the parallel leveled

a universe to explore

cry no more on the kitchen floor

this is no winehouse

strip it bare down to the bone

the marrow within

is life

stemming ethereal potent and plural

the patterns emerge


The Cross

greatest gift

I kneel at it

I stand at it

I marvel at it

the four points as destinations

the salvation to seek

the sacrifice given

I wonder at times

how this all came to be

the stories, the histories

as if they by some are considered a myth

a prophecy foretold

a sign it unfolds

the height to the sky

the depths to the behold

the horizons bend

and begin again and again

spinning evolving

moving through space

where do we begin

and where do we end

spiraling within

spiraling outbound


a cross

the mystery before me

as I spotted the pair

and decided to take them with me

they traveled so far

even when I was cast aside for a while

the painting of crosses in suitcases

counting the days until I could return home


the cross among my things

each time I gazed it

reminding me of my deeds

the conviction within

to know what I did

feeling plagued by my guilt


then opportunity arose

he I gave a beautiful gift

the crosses hanging

in the wind they blow

we land one day in Mandeville

amidst the vendors at a boat show

and to my delight

I spy a cross

just like the one from a pair

As luck would have it

now I had a matching set

for my aims were being met

for I knew one day

I had to make things right

even if 30 years had passed


She did not remember them

in the bathroom drawer

never missed them

the earrings made

of Earth


the cross its secrets

I carried with me

at first it was a comfort

yet then became a reminder

of how fragile truth can be

and how hard it is

to make things right

upon an error made

a consciousness then came alive

never to part

where my sin

became my greatest gift

to acknowledge

the blood to wash us clean

the life we lead

and the stains to be erased

as they are written in stone

the choices we all make

and the gift we dare to receive


orthodox or not

a creed to bleed

until we face our deeds


he paved the way

for me

and a cross I gave

in appreciation

to be free






Cracked Pots


Vessels of light…

Started fixing my cracked pot a long time ago

I have little time for cracked pots these days…

especially in my personal life…

some times a wise mentor is what we need

not someone who thinks they know

but someone who knows…

the light within

to manifest