when the rains came

like a hurricane 

like a natural disaster 

wind and rain laying waste to my life. 

tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger 

in the way, or at least not the norm. 

a sad wastrel left adrift in the storm. 

sing my wanderers' song tonight. 

let the wind carry my fading melody 

off onto wind-whipped ports of call. 

my breath's been carried out to sea 

nothing left to become of me 

once the hurricane has passed into the day 

the foggy, rainy day . . . 
I gaze upon the ragged sea.

 

,,,

 

‘’’

Rainstorm howls,

cleanses,

sends tidings, murky repentance and

beard for tears.

Savage rain tip-tapping

rhythms and blues.

Barrels for dipping, for ritual

washing, for tribal hydration, replenishment.

Agriculture,

hunger, health, hygiene.  Sordid rain,

ashen water, terror, pain, diluted

blood.

Storm warnings advise caution.

Cover yer windows and blinds.

Hide in cellars and pray.

Find salvation in fearsome company.

Oh, Hell – give in!  Cave into slippery ground;

swallow and be swallowed.

The rains came, carried fortune to further shores

and supplicants. 

Long into unspoken tomorrows.

,,,

 

 

 

‘’’
I’ve got rain.

No words.

No fancy maledictions.

Pounding drips against

my inner scream.

Out in the valley,

obscured by smoky haze,

gathering armies.

Bright polished armor.

Weaponry clean

beauteously shines,

stars behind dark clouds.

No roots to cling to.

Flood water rises,

drowns fire, air, ability to

speak of sorrow.

Ashes

fall unevenly

through seeping valley.

 

 

,,,

‘’’

 

Steady chilly rain of

irritations, builds into pools of

rage, a sea of tears.

Paddling, that old canoe splinters through.

Dreary, filthy floodwater, always needs bailing.

I am sore with life,

bruised, blood-stained, a sorry sight.

I cry out to Gaea’s strength, brutal acceptance.

My body aches to mend in healing

bend and release,

graceful hypnotic

undulation, deep breaths of puissant sea air.

Expanding horizon beckons. Waves of welcome

extend hand to hand,

beyond gravity. Fragrant allure of serene

ease.  Feel the moonlight,

gently embrace, then,

twirl me grandly into cosmic glee.

Exhilaration, peace beyond compassion,

beyond evidence of empty space between.

Ebb and flow.  Drought and tsunami.

Guiding beacon, or oncoming train.

The underworld is flooded; rotting

stench escalates to outrage.

We on the surface busily scramble

to survive.  In this torrent of madness

float keys to magical caverns beneath ocean swells.

It is a fine era for purveyors of diving gear

and we with will to learn

new methods of breathing.

 

,,,

‘’’