Tag: Poetry

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Do The Dead Speak?

Steve Rowe

The dead are a part of us. They live in our DNA. The words they uttered are remembered, They are written down, Recorded and filmed. DNA is changed by its environment. Every action, thought and deed is recorded in it, It’s passed down through generations, From the beginning of time. We are a walking record of our forefathers, And everything we have read, saw and heard in this life. When we meditate, we gain mental clarity and sharpness, What we need arises from this bank of information. Innate wisdom resides in all of us, If only we can still the … Continue reading Do The Dead Speak?

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Heaven Or Hell

Steve Rowe

Is this heaven or hell? Are the people around you stupid and ignorant? Are they only out for themselves? Are they all cheats and liars? If so, you are in hell. Are the people around you patient and tolerant? Are they kind and supportive? Do you all work as a team in a positive way? Then you are in heaven. Like attracts like. Birds of a feather stick together. You determine whether you are in heaven or hell. It’s your choice. Continue reading Heaven Or Hell

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A Door Inside

Steve Rowe

There is a door inside, in the deepest part of your heart. When you exit this world, it closes behind you. But it’s a door that can be used for refuge at anytime. Beyond it is a place of healing. Nourishment for the soul. A place where wisdom resides. A land of language without words. How do we find this door? There is only one way. Complete and utter stillness. Death within life. Thinking without words. When you are still and there is no words; Then the door will be felt. Once inside, you can heal; Understand what you were … Continue reading A Door Inside

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Losing The Way…

Steve Rowe

Photo by Ann Rowe What does ‘culture’ do? A baby sits and stands true, They walk from the middle, The world plays with them; They are not separate from all around; They smile easily; Until they learn their name. Others tell them who they are, What they are like, What they should be like; School indoctrinates them as political slaves; Who they really are starts to fade, As a false identity is assumed. Who are you? I am my name, My job is, My car is, my hobbies are; I am confused. Who is he? His name is, His job … Continue reading Losing The Way…