Creative Virtue

Robert Pearson Poetry and Prose

petals of the infinite help
by R.S. Pearson

super-rainbow soaked one
nothing's over, it just begun
don't stop believing in peace
you knew life's greatest goal is potentially bliss

remember arms wrapped around you,  the lover's kiss
you need to remember to feel life as potentially bliss
your breath goes deeper, and face creases a smile
not identified with stress,  it's true
but life inside the air of blue


something beautiful, gorgeous
comes to you, wild
it's of your future
days that soar with other 
powers of days passed by
clear air shadows and the stormy sun

special day of understanding 
when thankfulness, seen as a mighty power

many seasons, the future 
may not be rich 
we are only graced for living, not for greed 
the self, graced for mercy, not to need 


we know that certain actions against us 
can cause emotional cognitive scaring 
therefore it must be certain positive actions
cause growth that will override them
as sensing love for each stranger we see 
takes us to feel a goodness because 
we are put into a relationship with their real value 

the value both they have for themselves 
and the value their loved ones feel for them 
this, part of the cause 
of that uplifting transformative experience 

some people are lovers,  some people are loners 
overflowing of actions point them that way 
they study differently other's maps
the loners,  victims of abuse of one type or the other 
the lovers, who maybe are or aren't 

lovers who were victimized still remain lovers 
a type of sap clouded their mind 
it kept all humanity in a glory 
everyone still wanting to be held eventually 
physically, symbolically, by all



when that great fire 
in your eyes 
shines once more 
you ask how yourself how 
to use it? 
its locus is wholeness 
to catch it and enjoy life 
the moments it lasts 
you watch then one by one

to give up desires
for almost everything 
but to enjoy this experience of prayer 

in the circle, in the sphere 
in the highest morality 
the best speed,  the brightest hope 
hoping it's all of ours finally 

and this is why God is love

won't you talk to me? 
won't you have faith in your virtue? 
can't you remember what you used to do? 
the homeless were talked to 
you bought them a meal 
a cup of coffee  

where did it go wrong? 
why did you stop? 

why did you become ungrateful 
and want too much? 

oh, how I would give you them
but now your own house is barren 
and there is no one but Me 

and you're still needing to learn 
to give is to recieve


the one who created blue snow 
in atmospheres of hearts enjoying new zest 
after rebounded from death 
after recovery from the boundless dreams of youth 
from which a slight distance is growing
a distance apart is gaining 

sails became open, unknowingly embraced destruction
to create a joy that creates words 
towards not accumulating much shame 

seems so possible as for sometime everything  
careful not to be endangered 
by the descent from great heights



importance goal-like structure 
hands own reaches renewed
competence heavy and a refuge 
on life, not on what life chewed
from in fires and flames 
sparked through 
comforts from old times construe 
a floating vengeance to anchor the vision 
holding in omnipotent true 


finding the rivers gold tops shimmering 
waving in windstreams feeling the feelings 

day rooted earthy staring at the lifebeam 
upon inner horizon 
remaking the sunshine 

rain of jingling happiness 
makes an envelope 
hopeful enclosures dwell 
remaking the sunshine 

experiences remembered as haunting shadows   
through such they all seemed to live 
as colored by new sanity 
for some, such days one can only recall in a good light as lessons 
positive reflections as odd lessons of the soul 

what some view as carnal-minded delusions 
perhaps are pathways to the genius we all might pass through 
as the glory of life not hoped for by common man 


positive partners affecting the times  
confirming trust, God with us
just seems strange 
to see one's face 
in one's heart 
the absence thereof 
leading to mind's roundabout ways 
sometimes sodden grief 
color book archangel breadth 
help arrives in every flower ascending 

beautiful weather changing your perceptions 
salvation cooling hues of life 

softer shades drinking absorbing 
the proof of power for beautifying life 
is a granite structure girding the universe 
which feels like life looking up 
knowing the best is yet to come 

a love link with all faces 
inside kept connected with everyone's choices 

dusted off the dingy promises 

forgetting promises this or that 
resigned myself to the blessed fate 
action sets in space 
keep us away, oh action!
from the faith of sloths! 

covering all my land today 
the robbing faith of sloths! 

And pray for open eyes, pray for agile minds! 
And pray for angry concerns! 
pray for a faith in hope!!!
the fire rises and burns the lack of desire upon my part 
to all declines flames shoot out 



would fall back into your bright shadows  
if there was a promise, maybe of great joy
peace so still, mind  so quiet 

spiritual vision
like a film seen with eyes closed 

falling back into your bright shadows  
if there was a promise

the excitation of the day with mystic parameter
held within lasting job security, just in average 
it's spring, the sky is opening up again

it seems I even get back to the objective 

it brings bright blazes of life, the intensity
they may be the angels to me
a further state in my deconditioning 
colors and tones invoking hues 
supernal perception 

a condition of another globe placed momentarily upon earth

woman, I'm as positive as forever for you
like children forced to live in another time and space
we endure in isolation the preservation of another globe 

the liberation of sex led to an infantilism
the eventual singularizing of the people   
everyone too egotistical to stay married 
we can't really see the way we used to think it would be 

when it comes to you and me 
maybe I'm not the only one very hurt 
believing in the fairy tale 
something wanted couldn't be 

the old me makes me think I want it
but do I have capacity for it

unless it be born of destiny 
and life, power and possibility:  

I do believe such things 
this faith a prize 
to be guarded at all times


little like gem-like part fell out around 19 
he didn't feel the same way about life 

to feel the gem again 
again by a gift of God? 

if not His gift, he wants it still 

so come back to him little like gem-like part 
it was formed by hope-by-hope 
by spring days on bike  
by living an ok life 

by living an ok life 
with cognition of days added up 

it was hope for the all-around increase in love 
the decrease of hurt 

and one could change the life all live 

and sometimes the little gem is very gone 

but it is still in his eye....



there was this secret thing 
it caused beautiful explosions 
rains of tears surrounded it 
the real of life kept one there 
it didn't have money 
and it was a reckless child 
it was sometimes holy 
had sometimes wisdom 
and many carefully dug it out 
dug around it to uproot it 
this secret spine of gold 

yet if a strain remained 
it's going to grow 
and it will shake 
the last threads of holiness in one 

and it will shake the rat-race loose 
the rat-race rails loose 


these problems getting solved 
checking off on 
a mapped chart of 
by the union
of forces of 
God and man 

the synergy of sweetness 

day dream afternoon tea 
problems in life solving, solving 
disappearing, disappearing
awaken, a mind, take out the beam in the eye 

rejoice in changes already made 
see the synergy of sweetness 
a mother's face in movement sometimes 
a father's face 
regardless, shifting, in 
a loving haste 
conglomerate  --  it is God's face 


these autumn moonstruck childhood afternoon ideas 
indoors the friend's house on the block 
a mother collected patriotic collectibles 
these are the memories in my mind  which seem to give me 
my greatest worth as self-esteem rests in grand memories of childhood  


when any prayer 
brings pounding tears 
changed our life 
and the bitter error 
what are we going to do?  
each day jet propelled by the Spirit
what bliss to follow?  we'll find some 
been passive for the touch of God
reaching out in sobriety for things intoxicants would bring  

road way rainbow civilian surrounded 
blue, clouds so white, sun bright 
we can have life back  
we'll steal it back from wealth 

every jewel of love drips 
the nights are sober 
yet intoxicated still 

when any prayer 
brings pounding tears 
changed our life 
and the bitter error 

the substance of God 
I used to know so well 
how all were losers without it
now that seems kinda hard 
the world has been sneered at for its faith 
but I can see how it makes us all special 
puts a head of radiance  
a flame in each of us 

it is there compared to 
those without what is in the substance of God


it isn't in the intellect behind some walls that we 
can't see how smart an inconception, maplessness is

and in the source of health and fun, secrets stay 
it's not that we judge everyone,   pratically everyone 
and side with a few, or even just ourselves 

we accept each one, their works, their abilities 
and we don't grow well pocketed by harshness, hoarding 

but by accepting each other, and the wages they get as only adequate 
and in joy and security -- 

we notice the light of each environment we are in 
an inner secret the depth of our perceptions different sensings
and if this is the secret of internal beautification 
can it be guarded as such? 

how can it be elevated?  
the quest and thirst of inner beautification 
by noticing 

how the light of all worlds strikes 


I found a guide 
in a gypsy moth catepillar walking 
across the hood of my moving car 

it seemed to suffer in the accelerating wind 

an allegory 
in suburbia 

it eats and must survive 
on what we only like to look at 

no one wants to tolerate a gypsy moth 

even if the damage they do here 
is only to our suburban beauty 
and isn't this the story 
of the poor and the adequate 

people go homeless and without medical attention 
because some can't balance the wealth of the land 

nor spend time with the weak 
because they don't want to look 
at an object too annoying 

an object that doesn't beautify their lives 

take this day in your hand 
everything is of virtue 
let words come out as they will 
automatic writing is a fuel some coffee 
can bring 

super fish in a big pool 
super lifeline, supermind too 

hoop around infinite touch,
all people love sometime 
I see all people love sometime 

let words come out as they will 
I'm gonna tell 
life needs embrace 
face to face without two there is 
little Christ 
and softer seances bring romance to the shy 
see the souls who live for humility 
so fresh the only way to encounter ability 

go up to know the souls who live for humility 
the upside, the day to upscale ability 
parks so plenteous 
a punk shouts to a window above 

resurrection fluid always seems to rain 

automatic daylight 
no care for the trouble above 
automatic writing, automatic daylight 


some people just are molded nuances 
God speaks when they talk 

it's a soul who is talking God's voice too 
the yielding they've done through time 
comes out so we see 
the face of God 
here in words 
just in ordinary ways 
because they couldn't stop praying 
"make me an instrument of you" 
this total power confidence of all outward 
self-esteemed business competence 
in rhythm with all alternative head space 
supercloud economic growth with charitable 
habit and givingness 
blend of elements fusing each 
filament of sufficiency 
inner glow and auric dynamic hairbow 
fire inside comes out in flames all around you 
to others on a bus toward God's prayer simultaneously 
towards ice lake layer yellow intellect library circuitry current 
abundant fecundity's dew from higher duty capitalist 

ability can be free from constricted paranoid viewing upon 
the shores of statues of liberties upon 
Neptune blinding positron seas 

everyone has every aspect of life 

that the subjective party is functioning at 
10,000 rpm inside 

all your paupers of the rainbow-inside 
inside of cities deeper inside 

them tears I waited through, for a voice of 
solar gift to channel here 

now I feel on the verge of all things 
it streams out:  everyone has every aspect of life 

melted candle love 
didn't have to be violent or abrasive 
to retain a type of opposite love 
melted down the side of all 
to then Know 
punk punch of power 
brave to air and sky
like the trees,
knowing righteous propulsion 

knowing righteous propulsion 
now is a time to know the unknown 
an anthem 
that is what was said 
now is the time to know the unknown 

let go stingy souls to see 
the happy world touch love awakened 
like a venetian beautifically painted epiphany 
touch of Manhattan's masterpiece collective 

may platinum grace and logic 
come to the business world 
from me

remember the self 
where He builds roads 
out of eternal arches higher and higher 

of every your life we will lay down our hearts 
whose order will thrive on the earth 

the pride of alarms the sins we don't respond 
it will be washed by a humble pride in Christ 

as for their eyes the pleasure singing finally 
some absence star is doomed with heavenly life 

bore the words in windows of first endlessness 
what else have I known but its mercy 

instructions futureless night bows to omniscience 
all darkness is doomed 

just like it was said lust couldn't feel the whole 
and the whole included something so much more 
something that touched in worlds so complete 
so different, so forbidden by pornography, mere eroticisms
couldn't prepare or allow a soul near the deep 
near life with the day by day, year by year friendship 
it was destroyed, unlearned 
no, it wasn't mysticism or sublimation 
the fact one was trying to be an artist or saint 
lust was just some weapon against the soul knowing 
companionship so complete
such egotists 
we can't even stay married anymore 

everything verbal is going to be so different now 
computers haven't spoiled my hands to write 

my passion in place, my hope for grace 
long haired clear nights earth in space 

acceptance of a divine trace 
where days last year shining more hard 
did last month not equal what it could? 
an eclipsed idea 
mocked in silence 
unseen by other reasoning 

it's the idea of a revolution 
in ideas 
because current ideas have lead 
us to this current state of sad 
emotional and ecological affairs 
this old idea may have yielded some.... 
what I and others called a bad season 
but yet it had shed all our gems 
yet, the bitter man who owns 
the industrial soil is still laughing 

it seems like my 30 years of cool 
are coming out and 
minds and eyes will shine 
with what blazes so right 
around the sun 
catching the light 
once or twice 
in all eye's hearts 
if they only knew 
no fear of artistic failure 
I've felt my heart this wide open 
many times before 

memory rays of a tender sun 
hearts been this wide open 
so many times before 
that shivering down the body 
often felt, I've found the path there

I feel this blazing all around inside 
how can I ever lead you to that inside of you? 

all I have is this inner fire 
it will keep me warm forever 
that is the reason for and of my life 
to keep the fire burning 

the fire blazed 
it comes out bit by bit 
a fire that builds 
that can keep one warm 
in any situation 

like a million suns not identified 
this day, this love, this Easter 
find me, find me, find me 
abounded, abounded with life

all is right, 
gratitude and fuel 
a direction out of the lower city 
a direction to the right place 
a smile to my face 

like a million suns not identified 
great spiritual-emotional energy around 
keep the light up and about 
there is so much that makes it real 
fighting spirits of defeat and depression 
I have to laugh at a weaknesss 
in any town, any form of principality 

and if I'm without a lover 
always distrust the lust which leads to compromise and despair
fight the guiding voices which lead to confusion
and see the seasons of hell are shortly over 

my ways and means and my laugh have worked again 

you could break down the word happiness 
happiness with a moral condition, seeking
keeping the habit of not identifying with a dullness of mind 
breathing in the deep feeling of the light of the sky 
memories of the light in a friend's eye
I searched for a season of solidification 
so many times I tried to throw myself 
on the ways of God 
only to misunderstand so many times 
I've found a season of strength, solidification 
not moving from one hope to the next 
but watching the growth of a single hope 
a single hope to steer me 
found this victory in sobriety 
in levity,  in poetry 
felt happiness in prayer for a bitter town 
in hoping it drops its high alcohol rate 
in remembering the memories I've had  
of such wild days in God 
levity, joy, positive warmth, praise 
for all of life 
what exactly is it for me that is good 
a time of fine remembering of the past 
this integration,  memories of a foreign land 
a party's long night 
of a whole day spent out in the mystical sky 

the revolution is your soul 
the revolution is your self-esteem 
never able to be stolen by another artist 
you won't find freedom identifying with what they can identify 
your spectacles and situationalisms 
will get you tons of guilt by 30 
but the revolution is your soul 
no commodity that someone beat you to in the market 

cast the jewels into the sea, your soul
so cautious to touch this volatile membrane again 
yet I touch it and it lights fire up ubiquitous to the absolute 
I can get response from it just by seeing it as personal 
no voice of man touches it and me simultaneously 
like it came down off spaceships to greet me 
"we're here" as the effect it was 
forever in remembrances it is not of human flesh 
before I had been wrong in assuming it could have 
something to do with human beings 
now, I only know it doesn't 
it might not even be in individuals 
but a framework 
a grid my questions come into 
the spectacular greeting me by virtue of my probes 
so what bring these motivations around so much? 
to pour out from a heart its documents 
blood of earth 
mustard seed of rainbows 
powder of stars 
balance of timelessness 
anything magical left on 
earth for you? 
have you felt impoverishment 
take hold? 
and made funds your brain? 
learning boom bang 
presto titles 
shuttle year 
dense was the day mind 
historic ambitions gave power 
was it their hate for a deeper love to bloom 
who was hated, was hate divinely guided? 
"heaven hates what it must hate" 
the tao says 

apathy for social concern 
apathy for love itself 
not me, not us, not the worthwhile 
pour out a heart its documents 
dense the sky when time stopped 
extraterrestrial power comes without the 
paranormal element 
getting further and further acquainted with 
one's face 
not real beings but extraterrestrial power just 
the same 
This small town was a railway station to the absolute 
coming here -- if you've tried 
you can buy a ticket to the stars 
and even get lost in outer space 
while you resume life on earth. 
I wanted philosophical finality 
I wanted to take a hierarchy road of knowledge
-- something neither academia nor 
metaphysics could teach me -- 
a vertical journey. 
one element of the experience 
was the disappearance of the time sense 
this was not a dangerous phenomena 
as the belief in the experiences of being telepathic, 
that one had actually encountered other types of beings 
This I see as a dangerous folly 
instead, I see these experiences 
mystics go through as a type of scripting language 
that one encounters 
when one registered  inside oneself 
patterns of trying to alter one's prayerfulness 
or sense of time, 
or just  awareness of one's thoughts and movements 
we have a past together 
we create an alternate universe together.  
day by day
better than human minds have often spoken 

these gems you gave in kind thoughts towards me I name gems 
though I may forget them as merely default in ephemeral confusion 
yet that there is omnipotent love and saving grace I clearly see
lifting a snug  dug  soul to love's platform 
If I could have a magic bracelet I'd never take off 
for casting all cares on Him 

Creative Virtue

Robert Pearson Poetry and Prose