Summer Love?

Human Nature

 

 

Raging winds.

Cataclysmic connections.

A wild ride through ever disintegrating times.

Can we assimilate where we've been?

Ancient footfalls inexorably emerging into

battering rams, explosions, fiery projectiles,

grief, despair, immolation, utter destruction.

Can we feel the pull into the maelstrom,

powers rip our being into basic components,

the essence of nature?

Perhaps there was/is/will be

a time of peaceful reflection,

hoped for abundance,

shared joy and laughter,

ecstatic attainment

moving higher through an upward spiral,

feeling so good, so free, feeling so loved.

Perhaps it is just here, around an unseen corner,

ever available to those who can perceive,

let go of misperception and it's

pull of hate, push of shame.

Perhaps the only solace is in stolen moments,

the vibrant taste of summer wine,

the innocent joy of uncomplicated affection,

the pure sensuality of passionate dance.

Perhaps these will tell us,

if and when we stop to listen,

will lead us to the promised land.

 

 

 

 

Be(gin)ing

 

 

Soft Summer night.

Far drift of stars; open carless road.

Kicking up bits of stone and dust.

Saying:

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 elucidation;

simple truth hidden in rules,

squalid mine-like 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.

 

 

 

 

Rainbow Shop

 

 

And she sold me rainbows

shining gaily 'cross the window

windchimes in light.

And she smiled me daisies

and bursting bright blooms of summer.

And she told me, maybe,

if you're looking in

the right direction,

a miracle may grace your sight.

And I beam,

dancing

into the day.

 

 

 

 

Song of Sun and Earth

Driving beat of nature’s grand

choreography

Call for the cheer that carries carefree souls. 

Stars far from here guide our craft home. 

We've made our career a matter of energy. 

Sing of Summer surf, held close to mystery. 

Undersea caves cradle chests of gems, shining like starlight.

 

 

 

Beautiful child, enrapt in wonder

cradles a ball of ladybug colors

swaying to music, smiling to play

growing through summer's most perfect day

 

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

conflagration.

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.