Saturday, July 6, 2019

quests and questions

what does it mean to love a country?
a geographical boundary, a series of histories, a dream, idea?
how does one love chimera?
Evil myths
created by evil men
to excuse and congratulate evil deeds
“They are lesser than us, not deserving
of respect or consideration.
Inflict pain and degradation at will --
they don’t feel it like we do.”
People, so often self-involved,
caught up in our own concerns,
flailing wildly into the air in frustration
or pain, not realizing there are other
people getting hit.
No, I’m not sorry.
Don’t forgive me.
I can’t buy into your game of blame,
wasting our time to make changes we need
to survive. 
A habit of self-annihilation
understood and released
What thots will fill that space?
A fairly open market
with sufficient sensible regulation
to make sure nobody gets screwed
a strong, fine-meshed safety net
such that everybody’s needs are met.
Freely open forums for civil conversation,
community projects, information sharing --
but no disrespect of participants strictly enforced
by time outs.
Luxuriate in the experiences offered by this Life.
I am no Superior Man
breathing rarified air, up there.
Here on hard-rock land
I struggle to understand
what’s fair; what I can bear.
I am not inexperienced with being bullied.
I have long since learned:
It’s not about me, but abut how you
think you need to feel.
It’s not to be anti, but what are you for?
Not anti-Communist, but for Human Rights.


Friday, June 28, 2019

summer scries

Don’t think.
Feel your stories
bubble up to play.
It’s counterproductive to
engage with blame, send out guilt
to those without control over change.
Focus on what we can do,
how to do it,
use it
for all our gain.
Not Tribalism – which implies
loyalty to the tribe
it’s conformity to hide
from, within the crowd.
Send a question to the universe
in due time the reply appears
kinda like scrying

eclipse prayer

eclipse prayer
Why not have faith that we are, all of us, here for a purpose; and at least
part of that purpose is to get along. Why not set our minds to
the world beat of peace?
War Profiteers Profit from War; Everyone Profits from Peace
War Kills. Peace Mends & Grows
Blowing Ourselves Apart, Or Working Together Toward Common Wealth
Stewards or Destroyers
Joyous Assemblage or Hate-Filled Mob
Good Neighbors or Armed Camps
Grandmother Moon
unveil my deepest sorrow
Give me the power, the words and the way
Oh, Goddess, dance with me
Spinning in trance into your mystery
Smiling sunshine into my heart
Grant me the wisdom and grace
to translate Your perfect Face
Your living radiance
that all may understand
the necessity of peace

Sunday, June 23, 2019

memory theatre 6/23/19

distracted, Summer heat weighs in torpid breath, sweat,  
need to distract from here, today,
simple amusement, O’ Muse – spin me fables of mercy, attraction
to wispy ease, abandoning of grief in favor of fantasy, pleasant memory,
a day to depend upon for lightening.
Small child, toddler size but self-assured, climbs over crib railing
play table conveniently in range, down climb to floor.
She cooks her scrambled eggs, chair to stove, learning to defy
her size relative to her world’s expectations.  She exits toward adventures.
So big and beautiful the flowering yards, wide-beaming trees, puff-cloud sky.
A world of unnamed promises, enticing wonders to discover.
Follow a rainbow through unknown neighborhoods whispering of magick, of
fairy-tale witches and wishes and friends yet to meet.
She sees me, here in my mind’s eyes.  We share a silent smile, camaraderie.

She says:  “Look through me again; we have adventures yet to wander.”  

Saturday, June 22, 2019

last of Spring

Become curious,
Weave a story from what you’ve learned
and your internal changes
How do we be human?
What does that mean, to each and all?
Responsible to food on my plate
Never waste
Take it on as if saving lives
by sacrifice, self-denial
through consuming
without desire
Terrorized, as children are
dreaming of our cruelties
Ugly pictures of strangers


Friday, June 21, 2019

songs of Summer

Kind wind, scent of Spring
travels still extending
Tingle of choice
bound up in change
Colours mingle, edge into
mauves and teals, wisps of shade
and Sun, moody, descending
Eyes alert beneath flirtatious
puppy-beg for Summer,
whining to get out to play,
to burn kinetic
With thrust of flame,
to weld
a tight, unyielding hinge
Swinging door
to untested vistas
carries with its motion
changing definitions of out and in

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 …
*  *  *  *  *
Soft Summer night.
Far drift of stars; open car-barren road.
Kicking up bits of stone and dust.
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.
Song of Sun and Earth
Driving beat of nature’s grand
Beautiful child, enrapt in wonder
cradles a ball of ladybug colors
swaying to music, smiling to play
growing through summer’s most perfect day
Summer Again
… movin’ into summer
Wind plays in cloud formation.
Drift into deep elation.
Sun rise
blossoms to a
rhythmic peak
sending out, sending out, sending out
radiant vibration
reflected through summer skies.
New esprit conjures a story.
Fantasy and careless
fling into tall grass,
fruit full trees, languid leaves.
Ebullient sunshine warms
melting melodies.
The tale unwinds in brightly
colored ribbons,
high jinxed gypsy comedies
of breezy, dimpled romance.
In silken perfumes bathed,
flagrantly scandalous.
Deign o dainty smile.
Laughter bubbles out,
bursts.  Minstrel raucous flames
fill summer eves’
glistening fairy light
Tell a rollicking tale,
we demand of the piper.
We have paid all the long
seasons of darkness.
It is time to reap an early harvest
of rapture dancing to dawn.
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.
Singing to the Chorus
Getting warmer.
Days numbered by barbarians.
Travelers rush in to conquer.
Taken to a longer view,
tumbling through the ages ~
Sundials exchange for
binary spiders click-clock,
tabulating the enormous summary,
what has gone before.
The reality of childhood, striving creatures
pull upward from bootie straps,
scrambling for a place in the pile
near enough to top
that derision, pouring downward,
obliges them to only the fiercest of Lords.
Merry tots spend fallen pocket-change of
dollars flowing upward.
Old games reign under the big top.
Solemn children throw glass stones from circus stands,
bet on which clown will full face as disaster.
Speak in tongues of evil, o’ my children.
Church Fathers swear to the blackened sky;
cold, withered Mums hope for a crust
of noblesse oblige.
Evil is the providence of Satan,
cloven-hoofed, prancing in the circle’s
centerpoint, playing the pipes of Pan.
Oceans of blood boil.
Leading edges swelter, crisp into
In Summerland children play, frolic to
rollicking drums and reeds.
Naked under beaming Moon and starlight laughter,
merrily we act out tales well-loved by All.
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
*  *  *  *
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.
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
*  *  *
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
in phase
with natural rhythms.
Shadow to light
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
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
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 . . . .