It Has All Been Written Before

It Has All Been Written Before

But a thousand more attempts drilling down to one word

Photo by Cristofer Maximilian on Unsplash

Just as the author before* — prompting the others* to explore — in the beginning was the word, having been interpreted, used — misused for selfishness or self-control of one’s usage of an unwritten word.

The power of words can truly make or break another — lifting them to Mounts of Shasta or crushing future dreams purposefully living in heart-centered realities. Checked at the door — muted lips no longer sinking ships, listening to sounds of creative voices screaming from seventeen thousand feet, allowing self* — I am no longer living under the stronghold of fear-ridden truths.

Ink envy of another* — empty canvas I’ve become, no longer writing these words on the flesh of my understanding — removed by laser-like attention of a physician’s hand. Dreaming solitude amidst the bombings of neighboring communities — holding firmly to peace invigorating heartfelt transmutation every second allowed — entering a void of all existence.

Entering the winds of change — no longer worried by familial exchange — breathing out with Dragon’s* burning breath — clearing the battlefields of opposing forces’ dreams of conquering another. Following the Moskva, down to Gorky Park — letting go of our difference, holding hands like brother and sister — the winds of change transgressing follicular inner beauty with hair blowing free.

Looking deep into the reflecting waters flowing — crossing the Canvas’ global figurine — witnessing an all-encompassing feeling of paradoxical palimpsest written and rewritten so that symphonic healing courses through our veins — self and collective as mother’s rivers dominating landfills overflowing shadowy screams.

We have arrived — no longer audible are the words but felt by those close encounters with every step in our days — peace restored, dreams fulfilled and carried out like the literal transcription upon the flesh of another. Empty is the Canvas — skin unfolding the winds of change, ever faster than a thousand thoughts pulling at our attentive ears.

No bugles sounding our arrival — answering the call of being present — we just are.

~ Ani Po

Inspired by the *Author BeforeMelissa Coffey invites us to dive into the influences of words. The *others, Scrittura family, et el. are left to interpret this prompt. *Ink envy of AnotherJ.D. Harms leaves me in awe with his response, witnessing my empty canvas left for personal interpretation — no longer taming the *Dragons of shadowy desires, but embracing and allowing them to speak in a transmuted breath.

As it has been written before, attempting a rewrite in a different language, vibrational understanding for the readers to experience on a personal level — referring to *self, first-person singular — embodying the greater whole of humanity — at least that is my dream for understanding, knowing I too, fall short of truly grasping the meaning of it all. 

Blank as the skin, empty page before, loop pedal activated with Winds of Change. Inspired by the lyrics repeating, on noise-canceling headphones, a remake of a popular hairband from my youth. I am drawn into the void to interpret self and the collective others as it was all written before — but was I listening to the deeper meaning of it all? 

While writing, I recall a Korean poem, author unknown, Just One Word.

Just One Word

Just one uncaring word can spark a fight.
Just one cruel word can shatter a life.
Just one harsh word can sow misunderstanding.
Just one disrespectful word can douse the fervor of love.

Just one kind word can smooth a rocky path.
Just one joyful word can cheer a gloomy day.
Just the right word can lighten an uneasy heart.
Just one affectionate word can show the beauty of the world.

I picked this photo, reflecting on why I started writing.

Thank you to Scrittura and the whole family, as I share my words.

Original prompt:

Awe-inspired reply:

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Carried Charge of How to Write One Song

Carried Charge of How to Write One Song

Seasoned musician echoing request

Image taken by author

Who am I to think
— singer-songwriter
dropping healing beats
having to translate
vibratory sounds
— birthing from sacred songs
charged by a request
for something spiritual?

From a messenger unaware of carried charge — how to write one song — gifted energy of something yielding greater returns by a seasoned musician requesting a personal touch to an already intense set of collective beats. I am left wondering why me?

Still working
on perfecting
— written words
untranslated from open skies
to heartfelt knowing
all that was ever
authored — recorded tracks
— hanging out at the barricaded mind
fear of self-expressing
penning my own
translating into something greater.

World’s expansive sounds — unfolding laundries of tainted — soiled heartbeats riddled by Ritalin’s potential echoing submissive song — pausing to gather the fabric to weave a sacred tune. Interlaced with wounds self-inflicting repeating tales — caught up in self-talk and self-denial — gratitude paints a different canvas within my soul.

Accepting this call
— forgotten words
bi-tonal exhausted
— throat-singing taking
seat in the back
to something
heartfelt, changing
outlooks and outcomes
— forward leading
— driver’s seat
buckled in for journeys unknown.

~ Ani Po

A crazy taste of reality, this song pairs nicely with the message carried tune. Please listen and ponder the song and the personal written words on this page.

Thank you J.D. Harms and the whole Scrittura family, for the prompting of digging deeper into inner-understandings of self and expressing these words.

The above image does not match the words on this page but is worthy of a similar thought when standing at the top of a mountain in Tipon, overlooking the Garden of Wirachocha. While pondering a recent request for writing a new song for the Mofo Bros, a family approached, playing the mandolin and singing a heartfelt song. Joining in dance with strangers, becoming familiar and familial with another, I knew at that moment to challenge myself once again and write a song. Song to come, not yet translated into words, but as I know with writing poetry, it forms when it is time to release.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash