The Vibrant Teachers


If brilliant, shines the light of a creative and truly wise mind, Then vibrant, is the conduit of color, draped round, encompassing that brilliance, filtered through compassionate understanding.

Colors illuminated, revealing something uncommon to the conscious mind, yet well known to the dreamer within. Those souls who gravitate towards it, are the old souls who have grown closer to the dreamer. Souls whose pasts, have shaped their trappings of steel, stripped, bent, and broken by the hammers of time.

Socrates, Jesus, Buddha, and Gandhi, are only a few examples. Beacons vibrantly lit, resonating at a cosmic frequency, emitting a spectrum of vibrations, which cuts through the fog of our fettered, and disjointed, minds.

They gave their all, they spread their light for the benefit of man kind. Selfless in thought and action, they peered out from that spectrum, questioning their norms and asking why?  They cleared new ground: fertile, moist, emitting that vibrant light. It was there all along, waiting to be tapped. The universe like all living things, must have balance to flourish.


The realm of wisdom, befitting to the hearts and minds of those who, in that desert of suffering and inequality, dare to ask: why?  They bare the heat, dig in and by example, conveyed that vibrant brilliant light. They are natural dosing rods, sensing the wellspring and seeing it’s splendor. Beacons in the darkness, beckoning us home, setting minds on fire, and hammering back, bending, breaking trappings of steel.


© Danisms 2016



The Child Within



Dance with the storm,
whirl in its form.
Roll with its spin,
Looking, within.

The child awakes,
She stomps, and she quakes.
She screams, and she scolds,
For heaven sake no!

He wants to fight back,
you are under attack.
A memory within,
Rolls down the man’s chin.
No don’t go  away.
I want you to stay!

It’s rings, like a nerve!
It’s what, you Deserve!
It’s your fault, you: Say!
I just wanted, to play?

And when all calms down,
take both sides of that frown,
Wipe the tears, from her eyes,
smile and Sigh.

I’m never leaving your side.

It’s ok, it’s ok,
I won’t go away.
No never, not ever,
It’s ok to play.

Show a smile, give a hug,
A sqeeze consoling back rub.
This is our dance,
Much more then a glance.

Inside you will see,
It’s all, this is me.
It’s purist of form,
Accepting self love as a norm.


© Danisms 2016

Judges Just


Publicly Just, Ethical and Great.

Of Judges wise, and Judges keen,
Judges still, are human beings.

The upper echelon of societies be
subject to manipulative, stimuli.
Just like the rest of us. So why the fuss.
It’s all to do, with public trust.

Publicly Just, Ethical and Great.
Behind closed doors decided our fate.
When no jury, no witness, but ruling resides,
are the scales of justice truly blind.

When theirs is a closed group,
is it truth they esteem.
For truth can still be a relative thing.
Subjective, objective, mixed in Elite minds,
thinking higher things. fruit on higher vines.

Truly objective to their way of thinking,
not all but some relatively speaking.
Is Wisdom wise in the minds of elite.
When the populace shudders, at the souls of their feet.

Contemplating great things,
for the betterment what.
Deals made behind doors
Are for them. Are they not?

Like deals in dark allies
Another world they reside
Far out of site,
from where the innocence reside.

Judged on the basis of that which men do.
Studies, reports, pen ink and glue.
Underlings are human pure and defiled.
Some report facts while other beguile.
Some fact some fiction how would they know.
Dependent of persons higher then low.

What goads them on. This discipline of fate.
behind closed doors, oh what Judgements, they make.
Sentiments real, sentiments fake.
Is it the plow? or is it a rake?

The wisdom of men, like the wisdom of fools,
Chiefly depends on the wisdom of rules.
It’s mutual benefit, on which deals a stuck.
The hammer comes down, I wish you good luck.

But to whom is it mutual, whose benefit made
When we walk on roads that others have paved
The story resigned to just what they tell.
Who tell the news? What do they sell?