Tech-Addiction

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Tech-Addiction

Is it hope; an addiction sometimes found
A love unrequited lost to thee!
We love on empty plains
A soil dry and arid
So lost in the agony of being me

We search for connections
Lost in the world of our needs
A needle here!
A drink there!
New hope at last
Just one keystroke away?

Is it love?
Our new addiction
This difference machine
Creating virtual worlds
Seeing hopes expressed
A false God!
A fake love!

An acquaintance yet to be
It isn’t hope; this addiction found
Is it love; a desire to be held
N0! I say no; it isn’t anything
This world of mind
This shade of shadows
Through which our desperation;
Comes to be found

—Lewis Campbell—

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The Grace of My Four Year Old

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I watch my grandsons
Through the hope of my years
Bradley so alive, so dear
Owen cuddly and cute
Collen so small
Smiling from ear to ear

I listen to them often
My memories so clear

As I watch my grandsons
All my hopes come alive

Brayden so wise
Calin so alive

They remind me often
Those years so lost
My grief so alive
Like a wild animal caged
it raged in need
In search of hope
A hope to die

they remind me often
Those years so lost
Those years gone by
My own children;
Memories so few
Lost within my rage of hope

Joshua so wise
Brad so alive

My little girl Heather
So hurt; so lost to my mind’s eye

For always I see them within god’s Grace
Seen always within my mind

Is it hope I seek now in my time
So alive now as I watch myself die
a creature lost and searching
No longer knowing where I walk
Wondering; hoping, as I watch
The grace of my four year old
So innocent and alive.

At the Water’s Edge

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At the Water’s Edge

We sit so close
The Water’s edge so near
A thought; a thing
Emboldens us to swim

Life starts; then it ends
Or so it seems?
We swim to live!
We swim to die!
Never knowing at times
What hope direction; lies?

A truth we do not know
A direction lost;
Which God only knows

We sit; we swim
Running out of time
Never knowing
What thoughts we bring
At the Water’s edge

-By Lewis Campbell-

Consciousness

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Consciousness

We think in our guise of mind
A form follows its function
A nature caught within the storm
A storm caught within the mind
A wave lost to its disparate parts

What if? As some would say
That our function comes to find
Its way within our form…

A lost thought learning to fly
A last look at our end
Becomes the first look of our beginning
A synergistic whole
To which is born a need to be free

A mind looking to be
More than it could ever think to see

Life; the beginning of me

-Lewis Campbell-

Gravity

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Gravity

Gravity; a twist in time
A spatial bridge to thoughts unknown
A force to which a mind might go

We find our path within its force
A geometric home; a body
Lost to a distance we cannot know

Yet hope arises
The nature of our mind
A ‘tell-tale heart’
Thrumming, pounding,
Resonating for all to hold

–Lewis Campbell–

Sequined Lights

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Sequined Lights

The stage; its shadow
Casts a dark light. . .

The spinning soul
The Prima Ballerina’s Pose
Shimmers within its light

Stray thoughts wither and rage
While sequins shimmer in her wake
Her time approaches; coming so near
As dark robes of light come to kill!
We run! Our hope alive?
Out of breathe .. . . So confused
A peaceful soul to which we wait

In tulle, beyond the demons glitter
A soul sails through heaven’s wake
Her dress; those thoughts of life
All jeweled in Sequin Lights

An Orchid knows its beauty
A shortened life so frail
To all who see it knows
The spinning top must shiver
As the dance begins to slow

-Lewis Campbell-

The Dancer

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The Dancer

We dance the song we need to sing
That breathe of life; each step on stage
It is a torture we often find!
A physical poem we see come to light;
An agony that moves the mind to cry:

Creation is our destiny;
the birth-pains to which brings the light!
Oh so glorious the light!
So welcome the pain!

Our hearts are rendered open!
Bloody! Hot! We feel its pain
It is life; that suckling of our needs
Love’s lustful drink; our passions fulfilled
As we dance within our dreams

–Lewis Campbell–

Song of the Purple Rose

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It sits when she sits
Stands when she stands
A form; A flow
Sitting pretty as a rose

Her lines are hemmed in,
Her Skirt surrounds,
A wrap around
So pretty this Purple Rose

One line runs North and South
Above my hearts desire
More lines run East and West
Surrounding such shapely knees

Her Dress sings her art
A wayward creation
So artfully designed
This song of the purple Rose

It sings her body electric
A bodice so slight
So perfect under its light
Singing, dancing within this purple rose

For Love comes in many colors,
All for my eyes to see
It comes in many flavors
Always something to taste and tease

Yet it moves as she moves
Walking within my dreams
Enfolded within my arms
This purple rose within my dreams

A Red Rose

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The rose begets the nature of everything we are.
The rose reflects the nature of who we’ve come to be.

We look to see life; in many ways,
The nature of who we can come to be.

Some look to the thorns; there defense innate.
Some look only to the petals; their beauty a-light.

Many; watch, tear apart, crush and render;
through the cold dark night.
All thoughts destroyed;
for the beauty of a dying light.

Others; those few, worship the light;
lifting up their wary heads;
ever showing what hope lies ahead;
for the beauty of a dying light.

Yet those few;
who come to see it all.
Know the dark to be what it seems;
A shadow cast from the rising light.

The Red Rose; is a wondrous sight.
All posed; bathing in the light.
Its defenses innate to the ravages;
just out of sight.

The Human Soul; is a wondrous sight.
All posed; bathing in the light.
Its defenses innate to the ravages;
just out of sight.

Do we wonder the difference;
The Red Rose; shimmering at night.
The Soulful life; Shimmering in the light.
Taking Root; holding on to life.

Some look to the thorns; there defense innate
Some look only to the petals; their beauty a-light

The Soul begets the nature of everything we are.
The Soul reflects the nature of who we’ve come to be.

We look to see life; in many ways.
The Nature of who we choose to be.

As a Red Rose by any other name would be . . . .