Monday, September 19, 2011

poems for change

Autumnal Vision
Wind, rain: a snuggle under the covers morning
Dreamtime -- 
 "dreaming of the way things might have been"?
Someone asked:  What short of revolution could remake
 the world to be
    more fair, peaceful, more encouraging of love?
My new mantra:  "lighten up":
 Eyes upward, facing mysteries of stars and heavens
 Heart lightened, to more merry, merry be
 I lighten the load to my aching shoulders, and find
   worlds of light and joy easier to carry
 I look to ancient wisdoms to enlighten my soul
        And I laugh, lightly, brightly,
   let loose too tightly inheld breath of 
Breathing freely, I inhale
 the exhilarating scent of changing leaves
What is power?
Power is a word.
Power is an idea.
The Word is power.
The Idea is power.
Power is a distribution of energy, wealth, strength:
 Physical, material, mental, metaphysical,
Power is that which allows us,
 Or we allow others, to have
sway over their/our actions, emotions, limitations.
Power is a rush of air, of water, of electrons, 
 of words,
 of weapons, of will
-- the force behind movement
 or stasis.
Study War No More
What lesson can be applied?
When imperialist troops crash down upon a people's pride?
When might as right meets the instinct to survive?
When Midas greed lashes out to destroy?
We've been here before, o my brethren, o my children --
repeating the fouled lessons poured into our thirsty minds,
pushing back the horror before our eyes with blinding rage
forged into weapons by mortal foes
who hide in plain sight.
The only thing I know --
The lesson repeating agony in all our souls,
Haunted by the pleading eyes and bloody hearts
Of the slaughtered sacrifices to malignant gods --
There is something vital here to learn.
There are places
beyond time and space
where we don't even know
we wander
delicately balanced
between what could be
and what we will allow.
Feudal Diffraction
It's not the color chart; it's the hierarchy.
Hoarders of permission slips for resources
thereby decide what gets done,
which brick gets laid, or even fired,
who lives well-rewarded,
who scrapes til they no longer get by.
It's not our dna that compels stupidity.
Perhaps it's a kind of manic compulsion,
depressive obsession,
mass psychosis,
St. Vitus line-dancing to a poisoned
caller's tune.
What to do?
Meme-web reconstruction in increments
paradigm warping mindwaves
realigning the pulsing macrosphere/microsphere
benign gibberish cyphoning through?
Take back your time.
Take back your right to self-valuation.
Take back your place
outside of the lines.
If our needs, self-fulfilling desires, greater
ecstatic glory and grace
are to be based
on solid infrastructure,
on fruitful interplay,
on free and freeing expression,
let us take hands in
an undulating, beatific dance
moving in multi-rhythmed
Let us be and do and feel
that which gives us permission
to be whole.

I Am Geni
I am geni
a veil
endless time
and the boundaries
of the permitted.
worlds unseen
craft them, weave them
create a design
a designation
to allow
ever new
comfortable access.
an engine
of becoming.
Manifestation Ritual
Create the vision.
Move into it.
Live there.
Feel it growing through you.
Play with it,
seeing it from a wide range of perspectives.
Delight in it.
Laugh, dance, weep.
Sing it out loud.
Sing it softly as a lullaby.
Now, slowly or quickly or however it feels right,
create a stairway.
Name each stair.
Give each a folder of possibilities,
more and more complete, concrete, living.
Live out the life of your stairway,
allowing it to lead you to the promises
you would have made yourself and your vision
as you became lovers entwined.
My country is Peace
People of Peace
are my compatriots
Warriors of Peace
move human energy,
resources, time, minds
with weapons of art
active compassion
respect for the dignity of each and all
Words of Peace
speak beyond structured language
sharing profoundly
in joy
graceful dancing
to music of each dawn
enlivening Peace
on the threshold
before the eclipse
before the dawn
before we are given our missions,
sent forward in time
we must be ready
without map or guidebook to prepare
we must rise to the challenge
endure the patience to exercise
control over every capillary,
every synapse,
every fiber of our being
it's not in the believing, but
the seeing
a better world needs a new kind
of ware
be a ware
for peace, for change,
for consciousness
before the wake
Ringing the Changes
Seconds of afterlight, Sun lapsed into horizon
Quiet of new snow, cold blanket to trees, roofs, road
Gentle twilight, before the night, before all the freeze of laughter,
bubbling partying, high hats and hands, desperate to ignite,
to touch ice to ice and become.
New Year searching forward, blind drunken eyes behind,
leaking distilled tears denied.  We are jolly good one and all.
Revels, broken lyrics, misremembered, misunderstood;
gladly clapping hand against back, strapping together to
keep upright, sloshing through traffic mottled snow
slipping together, sliding to raucous tune,
old fools' show, commemorative legends to pull out over
brandy and fire.
Resolutions and revelations.
Look into the molten glass, sparking visions
Clean star twinkles ask not, glorying in terpsichore,
no written lines obscure wide sky, open beyond horizon
mistily expanding into rolling sea.  Drink to the season,
to oblivion, to ecstasies bequeathed in excess emotion,
rolling, amniotic, amnesia of expectation.  Breathe --
vestigial gills awaken.
This is the first measure of the first movement
a pirouette, a dervishly delightfilled whirl.
Cast upon this rocky estuary, dance inner wise
third eye calling dawn into destiny.
Duality, dichotomy, antipathy
All we see is
black and white
wrong and right
day and night
running blind into sharp edges
unneeded bloodshed
See:  the world round, encompassing dimensions
In Memoriam
Oh my children
Not so very long ago
probably in many places still
we lived in communities
in which we had pride and dignity
Small enough for everyone to
know your name
Large enough for a diverse
resource of skills
and personalities
Caring, squabbling, challenging
as family
Able to leap tall edifices
and find a way when a way
must be found
Entrenched in lessons of former days
while planning for breaking future ground
Not just a pretty myth
like solidarity of kith and kin
Community, living within
a solid sphere,
a social network of mutual support
often said to be what we are here for
(I hear you sneer; you who tear down magic,
hope, and trust)
It could be, community,
our prayed for cure (balancing salvation)
to the follies of humanity's
deadly love
of war
Sun and Moon embrace
as one
for brief eternity
all mystery within
Black and White
create gradation
radiate kinetic energy
We can achieve
believe, begin, begin, begin
Gardeners, planting flowers,
planting food,
planting souls in
nurturing soil
perceiving wounds
to be sewn
relieving loneliness
revealing pain
held in, denied
twisting ardent toil
admiring their wards
finding with them
questions, keys and doors;
realizing history is only destiny
when explorations cease;
invitations from space and time
come complete
with choices
A choir of voices
from softest spark
to fervent blaze
Troops of effervescent players
drums at dawn
Inspiration and instruction
carried forth through song and stage
vibrant murals painting onward age to age
Taking up the challenge of the tale
that twists, turns, meanders
providing kaleidoscopic opportunity
ever to begin again
Body Language

Teach Peace
Dancing in the classroom
Body wisdom
Reaches through neural pathways
regenerates whole to whole
soul to soul
touching life
I feel you in my mind, my spine
Feel me dancing
elongating muscles
extending connections
We need to make up stories
to be able to create realities.
That's what separates sapien
from beast.
Speak to the feast
or famine.
Sage, carnie, beggar
Come to the play!
There was a Roman soldier bored with war,
with whores, with bloody babies.
Hoping to escape, he wrote a history,
moved into
his Holy fantasy.
It's but a Shangri-La, a piper's dream.
Metal men, formed from clay,
scream upon fields of battle,
when nerves
catch up with senses.
Soothed with martial melodies,
gratefully serve.
Listen, oh little one.
The wind will catch you up as you sleep.
You won't remember when you wake, weeping,
how small, insignificant you are.  Mommy assures,
you're her own little star.  Demons alone explain
your terror.  You determine
to do better.  You soothe yourself with stories.
You spin a tale of love within a dance.
You spin yourself the center of romance,
a home, a fortress, an emptiness fulfilled.
Like a child counting fireflies,
alive in the darkened air,
dare to immerse with sparkling wonder,
to share
more beautiful stories.
Acts of Magick
If it is to be done,
We must go out and do it
Action, once begun,
Has beauty and power to it
Aiming true to course
Needs thought and reflection
Feed movement from the source
Of our yearn toward perfection
The play is never done
Each and every one
Performing through their part
Reinvents our start
So join the song, and sing your tune
Dance strong beneathe a rousing Moon
Another day, another seed
Bursts out into the Sun

The Secret to Happiness ~ We Are Happening!
Find what brings you alive; and do it.
(not what "I should" to prove that "I'm good," or good
at being bad)
Maybe meet people enjoying it too;
they who give layered texture to our view,
expand our field of play.
Lather, rinse, repeat
as necessary.
Take it out to the street when necessary.
Do what you need to be
what you want to see.
Do what only you can.
Make this happening grand!
Do it today.

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