Friday, September 20, 2013
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,
Luscious Moon, brilliant, rises
like a sacred flower unbinds, radiates,
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.
If a better world
were to open,
everyone invited to attend,
would our hopes yet again be broken?
Lost to those whose true love is to offend?
Folks happy to share vital passion,
no time to berate, hate, proselytize.
If only such a code would be the fashion,
our better world could open, grow, thrive.
September 20, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
in the rhythm
Shell the peanuts.
Scrub and cut potatoes.
Knead the bread dough.
Pluck and chop the herbs.
Music in the fixing, in the mixing,
each practiced movement.
Music of each meeting,
each task a jaunty dance.
Held in cogent vibration,
safe in sound, lightly bound,
guides to sense from sensation,
turns lessons to merry play.
Easy to commune, catch the tune, taught with glee.
Such fun these school days can be!
Back in the forests, the caves,
elemental chemistries exchange,
sonic waves call wanderers home;
soothing dark fears with lullaby,
Know us by our song --
music to carry through
long brave trails, travailed years.
If the Word is our binding charm,
our song is our vow,
ever renaming power.
Engaging, blending, restorative potion;
energy, purpose, pleasure of motion
The people united,
hanging together to avoid
one by one.
Growing their rhythm, get carried along in a
tuned to common cause.
Ringing poetic, wrapped
together, in a banner of furious sound.
The people, excited, spring in their step,
clear on their ground, can not be kept down.
Who is to be gained
by loosening the ties?
What you remains
released into surprise?
Feel, beneath your eyes.
Ease into the rhythm.
Blessed familiarity --
heartbeat through pulsing memory.
Breathe, connect with the real --
the gift of air, of skin,
of enchanting chance encounters,
of ringing melodies
to call to lucidity
your most precious name.
There's always a child
loved and protected
through audacious curiosity,
worries over being too big or
clashing to fit in.
Little one, listen:
Condensed to soft-voiced
on treacherous icy walks
in winter rain
embraces from within.
Intone and be heard, protected,
assured of unsuspected glory.
Song imagines your story.
Surging through heart,
our ineffable beauty
Before the Beginning
sound or fury,
in a wraithlike pocket
outside of time and space
none to command
none to hinder
how does the spark ignite?
Multiplicities of zeroes
before chicken or egg or seed.
Was there a silent prophecy?
If the system is closed,
nothing created or destroyed,
where does it all come from?
How far can it expand?
If the system is open,
how far does it go?
If there is no system,
chaos endlessly realigning,
helpless to demand rule of law,
form but temporarily
In our space and time
we play at definitions.
"In the Beginning . . .."
Words upon a screen,
September 5, 2008
Is Insanity ever quiet?
Stars burst within confined mind's
brilliant fire, catching curtains, igniting tapestries.
Scorched odor pervades;
crumbles crumple, a vast array of sand.
She takes his hand, follows vein cliffs
over warm comfort, traces trails of memories
to compassionate embrace.
She was never a rock, craggy and solidly secure.
She was the windswept sea, invited to taste shore.
How dare he wander to sink in sand and fire's remnants?
"Faith" flickers from mouth to sad, sad eyes.
He is lost.
She feels a scream of unwanted laughter form
like spittle, twisting from dry mouth to flooded eyes.
Squeeze my soul.
Juicy rivelets sweep
into gaping waiting mouths
of aborted song,
crying to warn.
Empty waterless tears
can’t convey nutriment.
I am dying.
Bit by precious emission,
swirly spirals of contextual drool.
The words, the wyrd, the weirding ways
slip out into this stream,
I am dying to tell you.
exuded as shielding matrix.
squeeze out meaning
in bloody trails, molecule deep,
holding closely to spectral ether.
Let me taste my essence
dripping through your throat.
September 4, 2006
question of belief
They ast me, you know, do you believe?
I had to say "depends on what you mean"
'cause there's a difference between
that everyday believin;
of all that crap we be receivin'
on tv, at home, on the street, and all
and that biblical stuff they want us to swallow
so they can say it's all God's Plan.
He's the one to service, He's the Man.
When you think you ain't gettin' what yer worth
or have other disputations with yer deal on this Earth,
He's gonna make it all right in the great by and by.
Hosts of Hallalujahing angels in the sky
and all like that. So don't blame fat cats for yer losing case.
Just bow and scrape and count on divine Grace
to save your soul.
Yeah, I believe.
I believe you get what you demand,
with the power of living voices, joining hand in hand
spanning a world in continual
September 4, 2006
Mostly pretty ugly, pretty useless, pretty ignorant,
not pretty at all.
But how can I discount them when unexpectedly
somebody kind, unreasonably wise, a vision of grace,
How could we account for miracles, unlikely odds
Random chaos is enough for human ingenuity
to engineer you or me, or any soldier joe
or social geek.
Who's to say which or any of us is the freak?
I like my women half-crazed, strong, and wonder-filled.
I like someone to cry with.
I like someone who laughs me out of my blues.
I like that she could choose,
and freely cleaves to me.
What are the chances we might get it right?
September 4, 2011
Void Moon Harvest
if I willed it
the whole of the real.
I let go; I feel
eternity pulls me,
grasps my ambient air
All ways my destiny
resplendent artist's ecstasy.
in these moments,
stuck in migrating vibrations.
Attached to this Earth,
mired (but not beyond mirth,
throes and woes.
I am dignified, made whole.
Service to vision:
yet shining below that pitted surface
and uncover the light
September 4, 2009
Monday, September 2, 2013
I don’t know
It feels rude
to ask more
than I can offer.
Sky so blue and free
becomes theater of attack,
no peace, no cover.
Lies become a code,
rule of law.
Denying wages owed
becomes a cause.
Reason explained by rote
to buy another vote
or steal neighbors’ souls.
Safely hide in made up names.
So many earnest no-ones to blame.
Shooting stars, dead on delivery.
Ain’t hype a hoot – pistol cacklings,
whispering past your grave.
Scrimp, save, buy a one-way chance.
Answers? Take your choice.
Pay what the market will allows.
Tomorrow, if that sentence lies before us,
stars parade. Sinners pay submission.
A smiling wizard, 3 feet high, lays claim
to a teacup of blue sky. Quietly,
in cordial company we drink, wink,
breathe. Be free.
September 2, 2013