The OSMOSIS Poems: writings from within and out of The Dream - Part 2

By Scott Vanya

The OSMOSIS Poems - writings from within and out of The Dream - Part 2

The work I was doing exploring Emptiness, as the holiness that projects out through us into this space The Earth, produced many, many poems of a similar nature: The OSMOSIS Poems.
The collected books, in four parts, spans, that period and encompasses large portions of 2012 and 2013.
No attempt is made to hide anything from the reader, rather like the archeologist uncovering long buried treasures, I channeled what I found in that place into this place. Largely I was "moved" to write and these are how the works came.
They are all tinged with a sense of human compassion and "get along-ness" that i am so fond of. Without that, this world just wouldn't make any sense at all.
I think you will see what I mean, and do suggest you read all four parts, as more often than not I was turning over a jewel in my hand and at each poem, a new light was caught.
Peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Vanya
• Release date: Apr 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311956705

Scott Vanya

I've been writing for a very long time, what seems like my whole life, taking it seriously from the time I was about 11. Now, at 46, I think I may be starting to get the hang of it: Say what you feel, as passionately as you can, but always with an ear turned to those who are listening.Most of my more serious work is done at live performances, which i do totally extemporaneously, channeling the mood of the room as my fingers play on the guitar. You can see some of that if you go to "my" website. (Open Mics Austin is a platform I created to showcase the Spoken Word scene here in Austin, TX. Only a small role in which i play.)As far as I can tell what makes good writing is LOVE. Love ,plainly simply, and with no strings attached.I put these words/books before you, not so much because I want something back from it, because I think and feel like I feel my bones and my soul, if you were to see the world, experience it like it do, for even a brief moment, you would walk away from that happier, more alive, compassionate and in tune with all those around you.Peace, good will, and harmony. Let those be your guiding light.Agape forever,Scott VanyaPublication Credits:Stepping Stones Magazine, The Main Street Rag, www.carcinogenicpoetry.com, Texas Art Initiative, Phoenix New Life Poetry, Walt’s Corner, Manna, Perigee, Chicago Literary Review, Mobius, Cosmic Trend, Pitchfork, Romantics Quarterly, Artisan, Pegasus, The Neovictorian, Red Owl, The Story Teller, The Blind Man's Rainbow, Atlantic Pacific Press

Book preview

Sometimes I have such unbearable sorrow

 

 

Sometimes I have such unbearable sorrow

    I must put it down

    on paper, in terminal,

    on canvas.

So that then,

    once I'm done,

    the dregs of pure joy

    come out

And I am happy

    again.

 

Such is art.

Such is life.

 

And it is mostly because

    if we listen carefully,

        feel the sounds and meaning

        rising up

        through our body,

        from our very deep-in-sides,

we hear

    "The heart that beats

  is not one man' nor woman's alone,

      but

    The One Heart

        that beats

        inside of

    All Things."

 

Waking up from inside of us

    is the

    driving force:

 

    "Help!

    Help!

 

    No matter how you can - Help!"

 

"No matter what

    you may call it

    or how you do it -

 

    Help!

    Help!"

 

It is not something

    that eyes can see.

    Because I's lie

    (the cost of subjectivity)

 

    It is a pulse!

    It is a marrow in the bones!

    It is breath -

        in- and out- going

 

    "...Help!

    Help Someone!"

 

There was once,

    I over-wound

        my great grandfather's pocket watch

        until it broke

        and never worked again.

 

    I could not hear it tick

        nor see the second hand move

            and thought

            "If I wind it tighter

            perhaps it will then".

 

    The minutes were not going by

        fast enough

        for me,

        I guess.

    Nor could I listen attentively enough

        then

        to hear The Heart Beat, The Pulse,

        in such a still,

        peaceful and quiet thing.

    So permanently I broke it.

        Though by my hand,

            I did

    deny it

                and blamed it

    on old age and such.

 

I promise now

    not make that same mistake

    again.

        To over-wind things

        that may already

        be

        past their prime

        or have achieved

        the true Peaceful and Quiet.

 

---

 

The vision of the poem

    I am copying down

    can wait

    until I get back

    to it

    again.

 

What then?

What then?

 

Yes, What-Then?

 

---

 

Now two days later

    the sound of a barking dog

    is in my ears.

 

    Something I wrote

        between now and then:

 

        "Maybe my big dog