Saturday, September 20, 2014

peace on Earth

Peace on Earth Montage
 
 
Banal terrors,
tortures entailed schoolyard to street.
Hostile besiegers leap out, shove face to ground,
strike with weaponized names,
galvanized noise, militant toys.
No space to listen, reflect,  learn how
we could peacefully heal.
Its all teeth and claws, everyday wars,
every night prayers of repent.  Every
penny spent to hold back the blame,
shame, certainty that all paths forward
lead to more of the same.
*
Battle wary, ready for rest, to shelter.
Close this sorry chapter; relax, restore.
Warm, reminiscent of
the peace we would gladly fight for.
May wise rapprochement emerge, endure.
*
Ease of peace in contemplation, bliss of
transcendent imagery, artful conversation.
Heart strings ring in symphonic actuation.
Bring forward radiant pools of welcoming
within cooperation, reflections change.
*
Energy dervishes, drunk from fruits of Earth, swirl
into ecstasy; face becoming.  Sun falls from Western skies.
Inner space aligns.
 
*
Soft sensuous clouds drift and blend
as crepuscular iridescent glow descends.
Below, welcoming evening lights,
drowsy trees, cozy homes, familiar rites.
Recall of feasts, merry meets, gift of returning friends
evokes deeply desired peace, belonging, generous amends.
*
Caught up in days’ parade; now take it in.
Peaceful moments safe with friends and kin.
Joys of open grace, sad tinge of loss.
Simple blessings, call of goals beyond.
Under dispersing clouds, upon solid ground,
jaunty walk intent on happy thoughts.
*
Joyful thoughts, peace, ease, mirth,
the elation of happy news lilting through the Earth.
I send you a bubble of better days.
Breathe.
Feel complete
if only for this moment.
*
Surprised by a cardinal --
Cadillac red against white blossoms.
Kind wind; lazy, cloud sheeted Sun.
Bliss, no distraction discerned.
Fresh semester blessings, seeds return.
Earth spins; we want answers that
assure us yes, so wise, we are the One
promised.  Cardinal bright, distinct,
against amorphous grays.  Fancy and free.
*
Celebrate Laziness!
Mentor of Invention,
this easy first cousin to Peace.
Proclaim, reclaim, claim
such lovely virtue,
calmly, with gentle elegance,
languid flourish, impish wink.
*
Wealth of starlight, bed of Earth
Every miracle seeking birth
Clouds arouse the care of air
Music flows through every where
Simple glass of lake serene
Holds my I to reflecting screen
Turn to turn, each glint a prize
This world revealed through peace cleansed eyes
*
Taste the bittersweet of long accumulated earth.
That metallic tang, carbon bonds long descended through time and dust.
Skeletons broken to rebuild from waste
carry potential energy into ancient deserts that tomorrow

we learn to bloom.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Harvest

Juicy round autumn
 
 
Juicy round autumn
burnished red and golden
mesmerizing quality of time today.
Hunger forgotten when life is a garden.
Sow and weep
while you sleep
a new day grows.
Getting our time together.
Getting in touch with weather again.
And there's been so much to weather
again and again and again.
Sunrays are playing
warming the walkways
flashing out rainbows
in random puddles and streams.
Clear skies and starlight
awaken the night hours
expanding the time to harvest our dreams.
 
 
 
 
Persephone's Breakthrough
 
 
This is where the idea is born.
 
Soft green meadows gently transforming into fall
Sounds of dying, scent of woodfire and candlelight
No separation between what is becoming
Accept and be revealed
 
Summer's wild adventures
Spring was a torrent of clarity, precious rain,
Earth coarse, ready for fecund pleasure
Queen of night in daylight's realm
obsessed in flowering
roses and daffodils
valleys and nubile hills
all is vanity and laughing vice
"But, Mother, I'm not a nice girl.
I'm a creature of the breeze; secure in shadow;
alive on the cutting edge of the storm."
Myth in revision
Standing at the back of the playground
learning theater, tucking metaphors
into interstices of sense and anticipation
In spring, kicking stones along sandy riverbeds
reading the classics
to savor practice: valor, glory, dramatic lines
 
Summer deceives
the stink of rot where flowers bloom
ancient feuds, retaliations, rage
tyrannosaurus feeding future waste,
absorbing a zeitgeist of want, of predation
 
Within greed-swollen seed infectious fear
makes merry with misery’s habit
Mythology frustrates, curls back on its own ash
Eyes burn with hazy summer wine and wilding
Feet connect dust to sky -- but only in designated
spheres, with designated peers, self-selected inhibitions
Sweat out poison into the ground; now, eat the bounty
Midsummer farce, far from honor, far from sunrise,
counting out the chimes as if time were treasure
Silly summer madness as if what matters
is so circumscribed, so predictable
 
Early autumn firelight
reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of calvary,
dire warnings and endless hide and strike
The game, the funhouse, turns deadly
Sanctuary calls, demanding sacrifice
The noble phoenix fed on frankenseed
can not rise
 
Skies descend, dark mirroring
Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet,
masks the taste of bitter bile, secret vomiting,
starving despite harvest's gay array of treats
Faded, nearly blind, falling in and out of
shamanic fever, primeval native callings beyond sight,
ripple of tribal beat at the periphery
ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and brilliant breaks
starbright constellations
 
Traversing worlds
seasons, years, moments of clarity
no need to navigate, to invent boundaries;
dance of the highlands warmth and sustenance
permeates
makes whole
 
 
 
September reflection
 
 
Golden night.
High fields of food and seed
aglow for harvest.
Aching for thrill and release,
late summer serenades
romance
wraiths, spirits of Pan,
amorous nymphs a’hum in ripe foliage.
Crickets, nightwings,
mingled weeping and merry cries
slowly reveal
stragglers on night shores,
legends told in ghost voices, echoes
migrations.
 
 
 
Random Notes
 
 
Random notes
Spin and float
And echo through this day of harvest.
National news
And lines from blues songs
Hover 'round me as I work.
Love's a word, a concept,
    I sometimes believe in.
But when tension holds me like a sieve,
    I can't believe in anyone.
 
A child grows
And learns to know
The Norms and Bounds and Social Graces;
Learns to see a world that we
Have carefully wrought and framed.
We grow old
And feel we've sold
A hope, a dream, an inspiration
To more comfortably fit into
The slot above our name.
 
 
 
 
Obsequious in resentment
 
 
Heart-full caring loners
wring tattered woe, fling out
rope distilled from wellsprings,
private harvest. 
Cultivation rituals hung taut.
Shamanic curse
spun into fine golden fabric.
Gifts of remembrance.
Sunbeams sing along brilliant waterfalls.
Sparkling rivers feed turbulent melody.
Those who have found the key
play here.  Time loses consequence. 
Old wounds age,
grow into fascinating scars,
fireside stories
retold to bind kinship.
We become free explorers
frail and strong,
innocent and wise,
reticent and gaudy.
Obsequious in resentment,
angry actors diminish hope,
fart epithets,
express frigid gargoyle smiles
as badges
of superiority.
 
 
 
 
Indian Summer
 
 
In a time of awakening;
In a season of wild abandon;
In a moment of sensation -
In a flash
In a long and luscious indian summer of my life
Glorious dreams were made.
Sound doctrines magnified.
Quick impulses of insight found light and sparkled
long into the autumn night.
I will remember
the chill of golden woods
the fairytale rolling mountains
the days upon days of cool clean crispness
like the sweet/tart fruits of harvest.
In a clearing
Along a riverbed
Furry forest sounds and scent of moisture
Early morning dawn awakening
to a season of wild abandon
a golden moment of sensation
In a flash -- alive to an open season
Alive to a new awakening
Alive
 
 
 
 
Ceres on the Cusp of Venus
 
 
Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is She, as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for filling
on chariots of the Moon --
brightly risqué
stars burn in celebration
 
We have given diligent care
and service, enchanted the
wealth of the surf and sun,
bound nature to noble
oblige.
Welcome Grand Goddess!
Enjoy the fruits and glories
our labour hath wrought
for your adoration.
Work and Love
These are the best,
the holiest,
of life's offerings.
 
 
 
 
harvest (2008)
 
 
Mornings come later now
permeated with scent of harvest
green and red and the bright orange
of the Harvest Moon
Morning air, heavy with moisture
seeps through my pores
into my bones
I see ships sailing in rough sea
their fortune a deity's toss of dice,
or whim
ships laden with treasure
and sailors desperately loved
On a placid pond three ships sail
a fine sunny regatta
The deep decay of harvest
carries me home
 
 
 
 
Harvesting Moonlight
 
 
Today the dark approaches, loosens veils of entropy.
Pixel colors whisper, soft hum of trails diminishing.
Lumbering, tales sweaty from slumber sweep
crumbling crusts, twigs and dust,
unencumber twinkling.
Luscious Moon, brilliant, rises
like a sacred flower unbinds, radiates,
smiles indulgence.
Celestial song, deep-breath effulgence,
lofty spirit.  All we who hear it open our wings.
This night we fly over poignant fields of work requited,
imbibe euphorious mystery of peace.  Labor’s release,
rewards of harvest, ritual feast of play.
Uproarious dance with moonlight; voice, arms, soar

in embrace so strong, complete.

Friday, August 8, 2014

8/8

8/8


find a quiet place
relax
let your mind drift and wander
fall into infinite awareness
take a leisurely stroll through 
what feels good, right, beautiful
engage?

Who would you be, what would you do,
if time and space were infinite?
Beyond stratosphere,
infinite bliss,
the whole of the real.
Aching for stars, planets, infinite,
silent assent that means all is promise.
Daring to explore pleasure, infinite awareness.
Leisurely share what feels genial, good, light.
Infinite muse lit lanterns take wing,
illuminate eternity.
Cells disperse out from infinite regression,
demand expanding territory,
redefinition, delineation, demarcation.
All the places of possibility
open to my scrying eyes.
I am the universe of time and space
awaiting birth.
Your eyes draw me,
they fill in the lines
with infinite perspective.
Ripples quietly express
infinitely regressing
first cause
last effect.

Infinite, eternal, these are words,
maps to definitions, not what is.
Creation never ends, never begins
again, not repetition but reflection.
In the infinite recesses of a sigh
trembling hearts create a pact of solitude,
invent machinations of separation, 
journey through despair.
Infinite regression,
significant omens,
legends and runes.
There is no guide, no authority,
none but me, infinitely mirrored.
What will become of all these "I"s
staring through, demanding
retribution, stark, cold justice?
We have created our own reality 
in the laws and theories we make describe 
the segment of the infinite realities 
which we have found accessible to sense and reason.

Friday, August 1, 2014

early harvest



Lammas
 
 
Loosening from light, long hazy days ebb golden.
Corn fields and buzz.
Early harvesters bless bread of Summer lore.
Cold is still a legend, a remembered song.
Soon enough we'll be lulled,
huddled by ritual lamps for communal warmth.
Tonight, as twilight melts into familiar
constellations migrating like wandering tribes,
early harvest feeds celebration.
 
Regal old seer, wizard, holy prophet
rambles over rocky hillocks
toward noble Sun,
beseeches, sings, ululates.
Opening passage, veils, gates,
free to rove, frolic over ages.
A lonely infant cries awakening,
learning to be human.
Wondrous fantasies.
Disappointing realities.
I build my gingerbread castle.
Burn off bits as needed
in consolation.
Deep in the woods of childhood
every tree, every lizard, toad,
bramble of berries,
glamorous tragedies,
apparitions, adventure, romance.
I peer from the shadows of my own star.
Here I have purpose, lyric bard and audience.
Restorative rays hover behind, shine grace.
Swift arc of flame imagines space
out, far from grim, grey dawn
upon dawn.
Listen for enchanting pipes
of Pan to follow, drawn on
painted sky.
What was lost may be re-crafted.
Daring quests begun anew.
In a world of lads and lasses
hale and strong, brave and true.
Joined in conjure,
raise our glasses.
Do as we must do.

Friday, June 20, 2014

poems of summers past

 
Welcome to Summer
 
 
Myth-laced lunar light,
infuse long summer days
with magic and romance
a’glee in joyous play.
Wild fantasy takes flight
above earth’s rule-bound maze.
Passionate heat-stirred night awaits.
 
            Waves of windblown flowers blooming
 
            Scent enlivens sense to peak
 
            Warm, warm breeze and rivers flowing
 
            Endless miles running free
 
            Let summer magick build up steam,
 
            simmer into thrills supreme
   
        ‘Tis season raised to rejuvenate
 
        So play on ...
 
 
 
 
Be(gin)ing
 
 
Soft Summer night.
Far drift of stars; open car-barren road.
Kicking up bits of stone and dust.
Remarking:
I could be anyone.
I could start here.
 
What is beginning?
Aware of the first rays,
conscious aloneness.
Summer is harsh on
fragile skin, newly opened eyes.
 
They catch on eager forays,
studies in mimicry;
simple truth hidden in proverbs,
squalid temporal cages, punishing
rewards that bind and itch.
Beginnings are not the point.
They are portals, not the
mystic river,
the sand so burning insubstantial,
the forest enchanted in
eider and lace.
Beginnings never warn of battle
flame or drunken dares.
They only promise vague
adventure, valiant possibilities.
 
A brief eternity before dawn,
supplicating the night sky for
solace, this soft moment before, 
an unmarked road
to ride along home.
 
 
 
 
peaceful moment
 
 
Like a warm evening on the beach, all woozy from sunshine.
Tingle of sea breeze, that ocean scent of the wild.
As the sun recedes, cooling, refreshing, yet still a lazy summer eve.
Oh that luscious feeling, that overflow of quiet liberty.
In and out of drowsy reverie, so gently washing through pools, reservoirs
of elation.
Like languid balmy breath caressing.
 
We give what we can; we take what we need.
Marching, in orderly fashion.
Or beatifically skipping to a sacred beat.
The horizon shifts through daily duties, nightly prayers.
We take what we can. We give.
Without edict, without rational equation,
we give each outward breath, and take in what is given.
 
Like happy inspiration, song springs from memory to lip,
moves the fortunate mind into momentary ecstasy of music.
Moments meant to linger, to haunt as loving ghostly guardian.
Wrapped in ethereal glow of grace's reward.
Summoning iridescent spirits to play joyfully,
ubiquitous harmonies.
Like the words we tell ourselves to bring us peace.
 
 
 
 
Joy to the Season
 
 
The Moon is adrift in the wind above
our sheltering craft in the sea
and all the world of Summer is ours
to ride the fire, toast to the stars
sway with warm desire, open our hearts
create a Summer of Love
 
Celebration waves the streets, with drums,
lucid bells, a call to play
Carnival cheer brings heat to flame
Chants blend to sing with drinks and games
Grand gestures expand, to applaud such a day
fueled by smiling Sun
 
 
 
 
Midsummer
 
 
Of course you come to listen.
Intoned to woo your fascination,
whispered primal code from lucid crystal climes.
Warmly floating on cool jazz,
mellow wine,
intimate, intoxicating garden party
'midst apparitions of simpler time.
Back from the rabbit hole.
Back from New York City, Boston,
Detroit, LA ...
from yet another backstabbing
grind everyday.
Rewind, recall.
Fog dense morning walk
along a rocky roadside,
unruly hair, distant eyes.
Tumble
into
song singing hallelujahs,
place of play, haunted
by pretty memories
tinged gold in sunshine.
Midsummer twilight,
fairytales brought back from sleep.
Sprinting across that abyss,
goblin mouths, hungry ghosts.
No longer keeper of my brethren's sorrows,
I don mischievous costume,
stomp out power, glory,
love gentle as a summer evening's rain.
Blossoming countryside,
dandelions and clover,
bounty of Earth blooms with elfin escapades.
Listless children whine.
"Why does no one let us rise?"
A world of sullen children
overdue for naps and coddling,
blueberry jam at teatime.
Flourishing prophets,
delectable, potent, wise
in the ways of demons,
oracles, gypsy Queens,
ascend into sacred muse-ways.
Every day a new day,
standing ground against a grinding
down to profit’s dust.
It can't be a secret
if nobody's listening.
But, listen:
places in your mind
will answer.
 
Each bounding leap more distant.
Inviting opulence, opening vistas
vastly
flowering.
 
 
 
 
Three Penny Opera and Grateful Dead:
What They Mean to Me
 
 
I was listening,
under a shadetree on a summer evening,
to the morals of our time as displayed
in popular music,
and thinking of the many tiny travesties
of personal moments all around me.
The seatide ebbing/flowing of the music
more than hypnotized
as I watched people flowing
through an inner newsreel
of pride and misery.
People marching in various uniforms
to a beat of pride and progress in the marketplace
and war zones;
people marching or being trampled or
sniping from the rooftops
all in rhythm.
And a friend said to me
on a starlit evening,
"It's so hard to know anymore what to do."
 
 
 
 
A Dog Carrying a Frisbee Is a Very Nice Thing
 
 
Sunny Sunday, summertime seaside breezes
Bicyclists, joggers, old men asleep on benches
Rollerskaters, sunbathers, and sailboaters
A dog carrying a frisbee is a very nice thing
As are the shade trees and greenery
and rippling blue river
under a blue and white sky
overlooking Cambridge, MA.
I tell you this to let you know
There sometimes is a perfect day.
 
 
 
 
The Longest Day
 
 
Earth of sea and land and air
ignited into opportunistic luminance
by her mother star.
Energy for you and me to
burst into bloom
flit fly in
busy devious thievery
cacophonous ramble.
 
Surging through veils,
storms breathe ice, sand,
the fire of prophecy,
the flood of repentance.
Glacial migration
bequeaths rage, rampage,
rapacious gratuities
boiling beneath.
It's not winter here, nuclear quiet;
all's right for the longest of nights.
Not yet.
The eternal balance:
rocks, meteors, dark
inconsistencies with
metaphors of the righteous,
pilgrims past the age of bowing to scriptures.
Tomorrow, the Sun will rise.
The Earth will revolve.
Life will adjust, compromise.
After the workday, we celebrate
potent evening light.
 
 
 
 
Under Solstice
 
 
Swinging
in phase
with natural rhythms.
Shadow to light
entrained
with greater cycles.
Time through space.
Do ages collide?
Do stars expand
into tragic brilliance?
Do simple little twists
change worlds and consciousness?
Very early in the day,
just beyond the penumbra
of night, as magic
clashes with reason:
That color so enriches
my palette.
 
Air giving way to water.
Arid emptiness anticipates days filled with
joyful abundance,
emotional sailing on vast
turbulent (and/or) calming seas.
The desert is so fragrant
exotic, mystically inviting.
Dusk whirls of wilding sands,
stoic creatures,
surprising discoveries.
The desert in forms, sculpts,
creates crannies of secret
delight throughout my imagination.
A no-man's land where cognition
can hear inspiration
blow through, encompassing
senses.
I will not leave the desert.
I will merge with its becoming,
allow imminent floods
to rise into thirsty pores
rendering sand squishy, unsettling
into ocean floor.
 
Ride with me.
Open raft beneath firmament,
unguided, unplanned, unafraid.
Changing winds have always been my home.
 
Enclosed against starlight.
Sacrosanct images
meander,
keep close their
mystical meaning.
A touch, a brush,
an entanglement.
Awake in the dream,
breathing cool greens,
intense shadings,
pregnant intimacies
bursting into
the magic of life.
 
Trail of effervescent Mercury's abandon.
Charming trickster,
plays upon seasoned winds  -- Quicksilver surf.
Exhale old air’s detritus.
Inhale and whoosh,
under sea-change brew.
Sentimental, far from gentle,
whirlwinds gasp; ambitions,
expected conditions,
wavering memory,
caught up in flying breeze.
Blown out to wailing ocean,
forgotten gills respond --
mer-mind wakes.
 
 
 
 
City Summer
 
 
Let the games begin.
Let the long luxurious summer days begin.
Let us harken back to when
our schooldays' end
would send our thoughts adrift through 
    dazzling fields
    of daisies and daffodils;
    sandlot games & swimming holes and
    endless flights for fantasy's fulfillment.
And let us not forget the nights.
The hot & sticky summer city nights
that send us to the streets in colorful array
    like firefly lights.
Joking & drinking and starting sudden fights
'til the thunder rumbles through and blessed
cooling rain relieves hot-headed strife.
 
As the heat-soaked summer skies once more descend,
let us drift down sleepy sun-drenched streams
till summer ends . . . .
 
*

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

theme party

New American Century
 
 
 
After Shock and Awe
booms  transitional time
of untidiness
 
We bombed in Baghdad
now fight over meanings and means
to clean up this mess
 
Let common folk suffer,
pay daft debts of hubris
compounded and raised.
 
Buttressed by destruction
against the rest of the world,
triumph of the crazed.
 
 
 

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Sagittarius Full Moon

astral vision
 
 
Mystery mists of history holy lightening heightening sky.
Desirous anticipation.
Early pinks ascend from eerie violets.
Sun’s lifting eye twinkles like a happy kitten,
tummy exposed for adoration.
Omens, prophecy, hope for enduring happy returns,
quests beyond horizons now observed.
(without gravity, how can we fall ... or love?)
Aching for stars, planets, infinite,
silent assent that means all is promised.
I touch a cosmic peak,
breathless at such altitude.
 
 
 
Sagittarius Full Moon
 
 
The many faces of illusive Moon
reflect starlight in her artful glide,
entrance the sky.
My mortal eyes want to believe
gleaming quests, brave truths, romantic rhymes.
Tell me, hoary elders,
rejuvenated for your fling
in sacred moonlight,
swaying from your ivied castles
to mystic mountain
legendary glades,
tell me why I should give credence
to magic codes of
spells and sacrifice.
Is the wisdom of the ages
so constrained?
My species may be blind to
naked eternity,
but we mutate,
find and define
new ways to see.
Fixed space is far too limiting
for me.
Dear Sister Moon, separate entity
from birth, entwined destiny
with Mother Earth,
patterns re-cycling reveal
what we regard to be real
is but reflection.
Face to face to face, fluid

to change.