Yule

Present Opening

Going forward
Lights and music
Swirling holiday cinnamon and myrrh
Taste of snowflakes
Crisp, cold, lively
Ballet nights, stories from afar
Joy becomes a hallmark
Friendly carolers decorate our doorways
Signs say peace is nigh
If we take the highroad,
ride sublime refrains
to the sky
Warm healing rays grow inside and out
Affirm this season of life is about finding that place
of release that allows us to fly
Soaring forward
Sparkling stars regale
Earthly gaze
Spin a spiral of joy
for the pleasure of all coming days

 

Winter Solstice

The darkness descends.
As we cry out for warmth and light
Our voices turn to spirit-imbued song
Our frantic movements against the cold
turn to ecstatic dancing.
We take comfort from each other's warmth
and celebrate the life within
struggling to survive.
'Tis the season to relearn the magic
As we share our heavy burdens
of fear and despair.
Joining hands, dancing 'round the fire,
we raise our sight to the sky
and each day,
the days get lighter.


Approaching Winter

Twinkling lights. I remember twinkling,
clouds resplendent awaiting snowfall.
It's Persephone's time below,
growing in power, regality.
Friend to post-living souls,
hearing their stories,
sharing her own,
from the above time.

Flitting about,
we sing seasonal phrases,
sweat anxiously in crowded malls
over inner demands for a never
remembered perfection.
Children standing in awe below
magnificence of glowing giant trees.
Cities return to primal forest
for an imaginary season.
Telling ourselves our stories that
Santa might find us worthy
of that shiny plaything that will
make us all right, make us happy.
Happy little children, so Mama
and Papa might be proud,
stop fighting,
tell us happy children stories,
take us back to the Garden.

Deep below, Persephone combs
her silken hair, long tangly
root
core
essence.
Magical petals of bliss and succulent aroma
lightly fall within the Garden walls.
The flowers are sleeping, blanketed in
millennial layers,
reverberations of stories,
plotlines thick with forest lore.
Snowflakes twinkle, lightly falling
drape long-growing trees
peacefully awaiting their Queen.


Lighting Candles

I wish you peace.
I wish you love.
I wish you time to
explore your essence.
I wish you safety.
I wish you patience.
I wish you visions,
sweet dreams and
sweeter days.
I wish the world
a sweeter disposition.
I wish for peace,
for love,
for better times.
I wish we all get
the wishes we yearn for.
I thrice charge these wishes
and send them to you.


Trees to Dream on

Pine mountain scent
majestic snow-globe memories
ancient beings twixt sky and earth
bask in waning sunlight,
twinkling night encroaching,
fluttering leaves cast
in white lace, starry splendor.
Long have we lived
cycling through death's rebirth,
seasons of land and sea linked
in living countenance open to
winds of fate and change.
Days have been when brutal cold
demanding sacrifice saw hunt and harvest.
Nights given to ceremony, eloping
frenzied dance, spontaneous gaiety
-- a tribal stew of sustenance
warm spirit and body
through the dark times,
built on timber, built on years
of sun, storm, forces claimed
and reconfigured to bring us here.
Reconnecting, anchoring to tales
told in firelight, warm wood, bright tinder,
holding ancient light, charms, secrets,
holding warmth to warmth,
life to life
year to year.



Winter Song O' Mother Sun

Winter homage to our waning Sun
that she will return, feeding us
with light and heat, sweet
energy.
Mother Star, we enchant
thee with ceremony, singing/dancing
in glorious pageantry at your feet,
a synergy of faith and formal prayer.
We are your children, refining
your gift of life, designing
grand structures, grander dreams,
imaging rainbows from your
streaming light;
see how our visions learn to take
flight
under your warm embrace
and on through the night.
These long dark nights, we beseech you,
reach out to join our hands,
sharing warmth of your reflected love,
Mother Sun.



December Wine

Decant December wine
best saved for end
of the year
held in joy of anticipation
Traveling the hills on sleigh rides
of old
Reliving the thrills over
fine age and spirit
a day we hold dear
it is worth far more than gold
I see a star pale and strong
hear a wind
made of song
holy choirs singing
There is nothing wrong with desire
Wonders of will, of intensity
wild like the sweet breath
of winter
the joy of being alive



tis the season

As we strive through painful cold, treacherous dark,
dodging danger, palpitating heart,
anxiety our stark true friend
Dream of this season's end in joyful meeting,
reunion, reward.
Dream loving happy family, aglow
in warming fire, festive lighted tree.
Pocket snapshot from a gentler age,
we ache to reclaim.
Raise high the revelry of feast
and frolic, space for sacred play,
miraculous day to carry like inspiring song,
a beacon through the storms
yet to rage.
Live this vision
embracing grace.



Essence

Essence, scent memory
cinnamon, pine, family
wafting incense
fragrant air
redolent of antiquity's winds.

Trailing magick's mountain meadow
Hard, sharp, cragged, creviced
Exquisitely strong, enduring, scarred,
mending, calloused, engaging
Fingertips, skin, caress manifest existence.

Rippling bells, liquid voices drip
replenishing wine. Listen.
Reverberate back to the tribal pool.
Dancing drum beats, symphonic raining rivers.
Rise and quaff the choir's song.

In ritual visualize the distant dawn.
Hearths to unseen worlds fade before Sol's majesty.
Incandescent homunculus eyes opening to flame,
krinkling sparks, glowing.
Powerful torches burn through dark imagery.

Revel in flavor, mythic piquancy.
Peppery heat, sour sorrows, exotic ebullient stew.
Wisps of buttery dreams, savory bliss,
divine delicacies,
bittersweet ecstasy.



Opening Night

Empty branches yearn for
darkening breeze.
Eerie singing echoes
from the horizon.
Slower days, longer nights
made for reflection ...
And wind sings, trees dance,
stars laugh in the moonlight.

Winter's doorway

The magick of night

The clearness of cold

Stars glittering tales so old

Cradle, caress, with blessing

Saints, sages, wizards, mages

Message writ on high, when

We stop to see, to read.

Cold is a slowness, a force

of inertia, a space,

a pause in time.

Dark carries reflection -- any

fancied face or fortune

could be in reach.

Seasons speak

We call them moods or colours.

We feel passages, echo rites.

Children chasing Moonbeams

to believe in hope, joy, love

because we need the light,

the warmth, the colours.

spacing outward

Neptune in Libra

I catch clouds and hold them for awhile in my mind
they keep me drifting.
I catch minds and let them float behind my eyes
They keep me sifting through thoughts and moods.
I catch you for awhile, drifting through my mind.
I catch your smile, your thoughtstreams, your
ups and downs.
I catch you for awhile and let you linger through
my moments.
I catch clouds and shape them to your form
they keep me drifting.
I dream forms and demons and fleeting glimpses
of your mind.
I dream while clouds drift away into formless
wispings.
I catch your eye in the corner of my mind
In drifting, shifting dreams that float away,
Yet stay -- yet linger,
Always thinking you.



And Why Not Now?

The 4th dimension that subsumes the 3
-- length, width, depth.
We move as we will in space,
Yet we move always in time
Whether we want or even know it
Ever onward through eternity;
Moment to moment
Encompassing all of our lives.

And yet they say there is no time, only now.

Every precious moment, every interminable hour, every slippery slovenly unrelivable day
an unrelenting onward and inward and outward soulesque surrounding eternity.

Where is now? Yes, everywhere, of course, but how do we divine the intention,
manifest the intention
give birth to form and substance
give meaning to the here and now that expands into times unknown?

How do we have meaning that stands true and real
that stands the test of time
that expands outward, strands playing in the breeze entangling and evolving?

How do we tame Now and make a dance of time, swinging and swaying
executing formal twirls of shadow and light to uplifted applause?

How do we account for time, yet spend it like raindrops, yet live in eternal awakening?

If it must be done, it must be done now!
There is no waiting room in eternity.
Yet there is no being done.
There is only doing, and being, and bravely swimming uncharted seas.



Lifelines

It's a tale many times in the telling
Of wisdom and wonder and enchantment foretold.
Captivating, yes compelling.
But catch it now, before you're old (We're so soon old.).
Cross country wide and free; a gypsy's life by caravan
And what is yet to be is stretching wide, without a plan.
Try, if you can, to imagine just how you're gonna end.
. . . You're gonna end.
Past ships and planes and miles of dusty road,
It's all been told . . .and then retold.
We've lived a thousand lives before, we the vagabonds of Earth
But let me try to tell to you my story, it's all I own
Whatever be its worth.
It started in a coffeehouse so many years ago
Where poets of our century were wont to waste their days
And in those days did bright mindwaves cast their nets and flow
To catch up young unruly souls and charge them with the craze
For adventuring -- for "something new"
To catch a star and follow wherever it should lead
To search out the holy answer to the ache of human need
To be the first new holy breed to wholey shake the Earth
To usher in a promised age, so many years in birth.
It was a time of carousels and colored lights;
A time of feeling grandly strong and right;
A time when Life was just beyond our sight.
What made it go? Which corner was the wrong one turned?
Or is it merely time to take things slow,
To gather up the threads of what we've learned?
The darkness cast upon us, how was it earned?
Oh yes, I meant to tell you of brilliant desert skies
And city street romances that sparkled ere they died.
Of Denver's summer snowstorm and LA's winter flood
And secret, solemn friendship pacts seal'd in summer blood.
Of a much awaited sunrise within a foreign town
Of food and flowers and incense freely passed around
Of turquoise rings & violent springs & jails of many brands
And music wafting through the streets
Of gentle smell of smoke so sweet
And wondrous madmen once to meet who read witchcraft in your hand.
And so much more; yes, lifetimes more.
I would give it all to you, asking nothing in return
But that you seek, in your own style, for yourself to learn
Of corners waiting yet to turn before our time is through.
And perhaps one day you'll say to me:
"Yes, the answer's here! Yes, the answer's clear!"
And you will say to all of us: "Here's what we must do."
Before our time is through . . .



Rainbow Shop

And she sold me rainbows
dancing 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 smiled
dancing
into the day.



Coming to the Light

My mind playing tricks on my eyes
That golden glow bringing me into
worlds of pumpkin coaches,
Valkyrie in flight,
neverlands that never were,
yet so much more real than
what passes for day to day.

Sadness is beauty brought down by ugliness,
truth succumbing to convenient lies.
Joy is opening all the senses into the
spectrum of beauty.
No moderation,
no limitation,
no convenient structural captivity.
Let the stars be shining beacons
calling us home.
Let the wind be a magical cloak,
the rain an exultation.
Let the cold, dark night be
a treasured, inspiring friend.

Let the night take me forward
Into everfulfilling fantasies
The never empty cup,
the magic wand/magic word,
sprinkled with faery dust,
toasted with the fine bubbles
of celluloid champagne.
Let us, the night and I, sneak off into
exotic adventure.
Let us learn the secrets of the Moon and Stars,
ancient runes and alchemical wonders.
Let us play upon the backs of dragons,
learning to fly,
learning to breathe fire,
learning to explore the mountainpeaks
and caverns of
our cthonic fears
and spin them into gold.

The new day dawning
it will encounter clouds and hailstorms,
turbulence and destruction.
It will be a day of startling showers and
unsettled wind,
of unreasoned pain
and empty solace.
It will be a day to try our souls.
But it will be a day of infinite possibilities.

Let my good friend, the night,
join me in play
to help prepare me for the day.
Let the earth and fire and rain and wind
infuse my spirit
that we all be fellow friends
in the new ventures
coming with the light.



philosophy

What are the words that I'm saying to say
when they're made simply words in a row?
The world is revolving, and people today
are revolving with nowhere to go.
Revolving, revolting, evolving and floating
And never quite sure where we are
I search for definity in the midst of infinity --
a sign in the midst of a star
And wonder if I am a meaning, or why
the whole thing simply exists
It's not that I care, but I'd like to know where
I will be when we've gone thru these twists
and turns
and eternity years
for a meaning beyond being THERE
but where?



Twinkling snowflakes in cold dark night

Wishing, dreaming, taking fancy's flight

What are the dreams your snowflakes bring?

What are the songs your carolers sing?

Where is that land -- secret in your mind --

where the seas are strong, the winds are kind

and everything turns up right in the end?

Where is that place, and who is the friend

counting snowflakes across that cold blind sky?

Who is the playfriend;
who is the I?

Twinkling snowflakes, I wish I may

Send warm, healing visions by dream-drawn sleigh.



a quiet image of a ballerina dancing in starlit space

Whatever excites me
Inspires me
Gives me energy
In exothermic reaction
Whatever captures my imagination
And won't let go
Whatever the muses
Joyfully bring me
Dancing in graceful gesture
Whatever Goddess demands
Haughtily
Of co-creation
Whatever kicks me between the eyes
Taking my breath
Squeezing drops
Of living blood
From my wildly
Beating heart
Whatever calls to me
In ancient chants
Of wisdom
So pure, so frighteningly intense
So fragrantly intoxicating
Whatever it is now my time
To become



The Ontology of Dreams

Centering out from the widening spiral,
phantom bits of fear and memory
Feeling my way into new rooms, new adventures, ways of being
It was important to lock the door to the noisy hallway,
feeling my way.
Surreal images, photographs in time, scenarios played out of sequence
A mother image leaves for a trip of no return
Another image, unknotting blue ribbon in strong good humor,
willing to perform
outward from my center.
I tell you this, tell you my changing seas and travails
it is important, opening the door, welcoming opportunities.
Tell me, tell me, tell the tale of my dream.
Spiraling out like galaxies,
photographs drifting into uneasy orbit.
Antennae licking the flashpoint, releasing images, centering
eyes opening into focus.



Star Light

It gives me chills.
That multi-layered image
of the stars' great message.
We, antlike,
small and unimportant
look to them for meaning.
But, of course,
the meaning for us to
recall
is that stars,
creatures of combustion,
do not, as we do
live or look for
a meaning beyond
molten fire.



Taking Flight

Enchanted light flowing from fairytale castle windows
Burning as floating embers upon the quaintly reflective mote
Secrets enjoying sunset flight
Spreading like geese in gleeful migration
Taking heart, taking soul, taking grand gestures of
inconsolable insanity, leaping from star-studded heights
Secrets
caught in the glow
burning
too close to the light.
There is salvation in enchantment;
safely peering through fairytale castle windows,
floating embers taking flight once outside of vision's range.
Secretly breaking free of formation, leaping
from fairytale heights, breaking the reflection,
emoting quaintly like geese gaggling on the wing.
Breaking enchantment, burning on the executioner's pyre,
sunset floating upon grand gestures, caught in the glow.
Secrets gently bleeding into the fairytale mote,
freely flowing, gleefully taking flight,
burning out into the sunset in starry migration.
Windows opening into spreading reflection
gently flowing into freely floating light.



Opening Night

Empty branches yearn for
darkening breeze.
Eerie singing echoes
from the horizon.
Slower days, longer nights
made for reflection ...
And wind sings, trees dance,
stars laugh in the moonlight.



Pre-Genesis

Before the Beginning
Before imagination,
sound or fury,
in a wraithlike pocket
outside of time and space
none to command
none to hinder
how does the spark ignite?
Spontaneous combustion?
Multiplicities of zeroes
encircling void
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
delimiting substance,
no matter.
In our space and time
we play at definitions.
"In the Beginning . . .."
Words upon a screen,
analyzed
over millennia.



Metamagical Circuit (random excerpt)

Practice, practice, vibrant mauve
smoke rings for my lady
Goddess grants this smiling day
ritual of play
Glory Glory fat silver swords
swashling, caressing, violating the air
You with your act of splendour, curtseys,
curses, all guaranteed to cure
a thousand years of sleep.

Once upon a forest
clip-clop horse hoofs
noses snorting change
seasons - paleo to neo
robins hopping to seed greenery
glowing owls, blessedly blind,
grant swift sanctuary beneath wingspans
illuminated in Arthurian myth,
symbols that yearn like long dormant worms
sucking out dark holes over eons

Today we go to the circus.
Gather, children,
hooked to treacly tether
sharing sweet secrets
surreptitious touch
Mind the invisible netting,
safe from trailers hurtling from highway
or perennial city bus discharge by zombie drivers
only intent on fulfilling the schedule, home before
detonation.

The circus is superb.
Imagine a trampoline ignited by grand fireflies
sparkling dayglo spraypaint into heaven.
Imagine noble elephants, gravely kneeling,
telepathic tremolo soothing vibration
carrying dreamtime back to Earth.

Imagine a dandelion trail outside the
schoolhouse window
breathful breezes of mint and lilac
destiny swells to crescendos of urgency.

Imagine the day that dawns when
you are no longer dreaming.



astral vision

Mystery mists of history holy crescent lightening sky
Calm anticipation early pinks crescend from eerie violets
Thunderous Jupiter twinkles like a happy kitten,
tummy extends for adoration
Omens, prophecy, hope for endless happy returns
quests into/out of space/mind
(without gravity, how can we fall ... or love?)
Aching for stars, planets, dreams,
silent assent that means all is promised
I touch a cosmic peak
breathless at such altitude



Body Language


Teach Peace
Dancing in the classroom
Body wisdom
Reaches through neural pathways
regenerates whole to whole
soul to soul
touching life
exactly
I feel you in my mind, my spine
Feel me dancing
elongating muscles
extending connections

It's magic

Power

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,
social.
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.



Ritual

Ritual gives form to meaning
(every wiseman's son doth know).
Every act from which we're gleaning,
Every sack that we must sow
Gives rise to tides that make us wise;
Gives humor chance for binding wounds.
Does good these ancient weary eyes
To dance abandoned round the moon.



I Have All-ways Been

Magic is not part of me.
It is every molecule,
holding together higher intent.
Tracking the winding trail
stars and moonlight exhale potency
spells, incantations, hidden divinations
flicker in malleable materiality.
Living Earth, patiently moves through rotations,
inhales stardust.
In darkness, creation recycles.
Magic is all.



Dark Magick

In the still of the dark of the moon
after the revelrie has passed on
deep, deep into the frozen fields of dreamless sleep
we, walking, silently, along the riverbed
breathing in ancient ash of woodsmoke
breathing out long-growing tears
to weave ghostly tentacles
along our path
take each others' hand up to our heart
to pray, to kiss, to whisper
thus casting an eternal spell.



Fire in the Mountain

Moving into the darkest night
Alert to each crinkle in the texture of time
Alert to minute sounds and startled motion
There is a flame in the darkness
Warm, bright, alively intense in color
sparks flying, singing singing
soft and low, then more urgent, louder
singing, entrancing, bringing ever closer
attention away from the night from the cold.
Worship that flame.
Give it your deepest oath of fealty.
Be its bosom ally, it's shadow, it's child.
Bring it into your deepest, strongest part
and grow with it, together,
each protected
Dark earth intertwines with flame.



metaphysicians

Boldly we go where so many have gone before
Each informed by our unique set and setting.
Some perform alchemy, mixing metaphors
upon a marble altar.
Telling sooth, or constantly mapping the stars,
we orate ancient fantasies,
often reclothed to fit the current fashion.
There are werecreatures, energy vampires,
Lions and Tigers and Bears,
Insects infected with rare, lethal archetypes
-- angry demons mating with our own cells
To destroy us.
There are lethal conspiracies of demon-men,
Bent on self-destruction of their/our whole half-species.
Warships, projectiles of evil
invade our consciousnesses, destroying our dreams.
There are armies of the night, marching,
conscripting our young, our heartland, our hierophants.
We watch, and scribble notes, often indecipherable.
We chant like banshees, chattering primates,
impressed with our own noise.
Sometimes we forget for a bit, slip out of the script;
We awaken to find ourselves singing;
Creating heavenly music.




Crossing the Threshold

At the crossroads at midnight
my lady did swear
that she must be alone
to face up to her demons

"Please understand that I must
be aware of just who I am
and where I've come from."

I sat by the bridge
as she set forth her flames,
her sorceror's lore, her alchemic runes
So she'd know who to honor, to break
and to blame
what she'd been made for,
her journey, her tools.

At the crossroads, past midnight,
just before dawn
my lady thrice nodded and
stamped out her flames.
She beckened I join her out on starry meadow
to kiss and rejoyce
and reveal our true names.


Enchanting
(for Kala Snowflower)

Magical child, the world awaits you

Not just this place,
any world you care to grace,

relate to, turn your lovely face to.

"We love you"
sing the winds, the seas,
the creatures large and small

"We love you always"

Singing and dancing long into the night,

you turn it into day.

Play that haunting melody.
It moves you
into a chance to name your trance,

to name us all

as we, before your eyes,
the skies will dance for you,
will open wide their hearts of stars.
Sparkling through the night,
Shining into day.

You play.

All of creation rejoices to your song,
creating worlds of joy.




Hekate's Child

Child of Hekate,
sweetness and light?
Where is the mark
of your entombment?
Buried prematurely,
to strive for growth
in dark enclosure
striving for a breath
of the pompously negligent
Sun,
of the blushing Moon
of the squabbling sons and daughters,
of daylight's pleasures.
Striving, tenderly
twisting around corners
aching for an unknown touch.

"Tell me, sir, then, how's it going now?"
Looking up narrowly from a tepid meal,
all at once remembering
playfellows on the schoolyard
running, out of breath,
filled with pride
a jolly good game.
Always someone begging
my attention,
but it wasn't really me,
just a story to steam off
or a butt to joke on.
All the silly give and take;
only time is taken
and that in big hungry chunks
of no tomorrows.

One long day
now the part all groggy
waking from fevered napping.
It wasn't supposed to be a tomb
nestled in Transylvanian bloodlines.
It was meant to be a child's cot,
freshly laundered cotton lace.
But the rats got in,
once the cats had been slaughtered.

Slowly wakening
I strive again to find my footing.
Learning to walk
was never as easy
as forgetting to fly.



Lighting Candles

I wish you peace.
I wish you love.
I wish you time to
explore your essence.
I wish you safety.
I wish you patience.
I wish you visions,
sweet dreams and
sweeter days.
I wish the world
a sweeter disposition.
I wish for peace,
for love,
for better times.
I wish we all get
the wishes we yearn for.
I thrice charge these wishes
and send them to you.



Liminal Spaces


Twilight, the wee hours,
the dark of the moon
liminal spaces,
places where magic reigns,
crossroads, crises, cusps.

There is static on the radio.
A song
my voice was singing
taking flight to surround me,
the sound of music,
a comforter of down
to ease my soul.

I've been trying to define a taste,
a sense of bittersweet and salt.
I've been trying to find a trace
a footprint in the desert,
a sound, a scent,
a memory.
I've been trying to find a trace of me,
a piece to fit the puzzle,
my contribution to the grand design.
Seeking in the shadows,
the space between
myth and matter,
those places words
cannot define.
On those insubstantial plains
of myst and awe,
the stuff of dreams,
threshold of wonder,
creation begins.



Manifestation Ritual

Create the vision.
Move into it.
Live there.
Feel it growing through you.
Play with it,
in a wide range of perspectives.
Delight in it.
Laugh, dance, weep.
Sing out loud.
Sing 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.



Straw Sky

Straw sky
Westerly
Moonless, Sunless, Starless
Leaveless trees point gnarly fingers
to the heavens
deepening into darkness

Frayed and tattered dreams
Lucid praying
A feeling beyond touch
Beyond fear or sadness
A feeling unlike hope
Without reason
Formless
Yet delineated
Like constellations.

I make motions with my hands,
Move my skin into contact
With ineffable realms,
Move with the oozing miasma
Creating signs in faint luminescence.
Bit by bit they encompass
the night's horizon.

But there is more.
It comes to me in dribs and drabs,
Droning, encircling, swooping in and out.
I organize a study chamber
Pull out maps and rulers,
Set my quill to taking notes.
Images engaged in excited conversation
Pull me in to their heady company.

I can feel the sky breaking around me,
Bits of colored prisms falling.
Make a wish.



Eclipse Scrying

Where's the fun
in hiding in the eye
of the hurricane?
I want to be bodysurfing
the storm,
madly dancing in the rain,
cast off from restrictive form ...
I want to taste sweet grapes
break crisply;
Embark on a journey of ecstasy
to be all I have
thought to be;
Yet safely reside
in a place deep inside
away from the prying norm.
I want romance in the sense of
sensation inviting and free.
I want a chance to believe in magic.
And I want what I want to be
crazily in love with me.



Second Star to the Right

Traveling beyond Persephone's garden
on the etheric threshold
'tween life and death.
Taking an oblique path at the crossroads
onto an accessway
along the axis of bliss.
It's not a road on which
the dramas fade.
It's not about a numbing block
to pain.
Drama unfolds --
my chemistry responds exquisitely.
Touch is just touch;
sensation translated information.
All the appointed tasks,
routine errands of the everyday,
little pauses along the bliss path
allowing me to breathe the scent
of endless possibilities
as path and consciousness expand
blissfully aware.



Starlight Sonata

Outside standard framework
a world of my own
imagining
defining
glory and grace,
a realm of faith not attuned
to the dictates of deity or demon.
I live in faith that my fate
reflects my deepest values
my truest cause
my unseen vision
and move mountains into place
to catch the rays of
my rising star.



Meta-Science

Magical thinking
creating room for the power
of possibilities,
nuances, shades between,
molecular space
unexplored, unexploited.
The magic of synaptic awareness,
unlikelihood of consciousness,
Dreams, Visions, Reveries,
ineffable emotions
too dear to deny.
See, smell, taste
chemical reactions,
hear reverberating air.
There is no limit
but that I impose.
Strict chanting and ritual
keeps reality in line.



Raising Hell

Not true sacred magick.
Cynical sleight of hand
turns sweat and dreams,
lives of desperation
into neat bundles of greed.
But the pain burns through
not content to be twisted
into fast cars, high-stakes games,
brilliant careers in glad-handing.
It wants its payment.
False wizards of arrogant charm
play with chthonic forces
more angry and deadly than flame.
Unaware of the cursed seeds
they cultivate,
strangling life force from below.
Unsupervised children
playing with matches,
grizzled and gray as some may appear,
laugh at the bright spectacle
as homes burn.
The balance is always paid.
Magick is never free.
Will the lesson ever sink in?
Be careful what you conjure.



Singing to the Chorus

Getting warmer
Days numbered by travelers,
barbarians rushing in to conquest.
Taken in longer view,
tumbling through the ages ~
Sundials exchanged for
binary spiders click-clocking,
tabulating the enormous sum,
only a summary of things gone before.
The reality of childhood, striving creatures,
pulling upward from bootie straps,
scrambling for a place in the pile
near enough to the top
that derision, pouring downward,
obliges them to only the fiercest of Lords.
Merrily spent the pocket-change of
dollars flowing upward.
Old games reign under the big top.
Solemn children in the circus stands
betting on which clown will fall.
They speak to you of evil, o' my children,
Church Fathers swearing to the sky;
cold, withered Mums hoping for a crust
of noblesse oblige.
Evil is the providence of Satan,
cloven-hoofed, dancing in circle's
centerpoint, playing the pipes of Pan.
Oceans of blood boil
Leading edges swelter, crisp into
conflagration.
In Summerland children play, dance to
rollicking pipery.
Naked under beaming Moon and starlight,
they act out tales well-loved by All.

Listen to the heart of bliss.

Lie on open sand, smelling vibrance

under oceanic starlit sky

Breeze breathes eternity, opening

inward to see intricately

expansive poetry --

thought in magnificent splendor.

All art is magical; all magic is art.

Yet they are not the same, and part

of a grander landscape.

gypsy hand

Too brite days
midnights that refuse to
abide dark and secret
when empty phrases chant
to fairytale Moons
I tell myself
This is no ordinary room
This is no fleeting flittering life
This is a magical passageway
sparkling like mica, like miracles
 
Quiet traces
luminescent impression
a trailing kite tail binds
silent whimpers, sojourning whispers,
tears shining behind mime smiles
 
Crone's gnarled fingers, play
to spite agony
simulate touch
beyond ache
Crouched scarred shadow
I cast silhouette of metamagic gypsy
hand
offering

Beautiful Dreamers

Imagine no John Lennon
Even if he hadn't died
No Beatles to remember
His music still inside
Imagine all the people
Never hear his cry
to unite through imagination

 

It was 30 years ago today
A madman blew Lennon away
Yet, the import of what he had to say
Can not be taken

 

It is up to us who know
His words are seeds to sow
We can help his message grow
as inspiration

Feast Days

Downing ale like a drowning sailor

caught up in the drama of sea

Sons and daughters of days foretold

caught up in a field of stars

Lighting the way

Is this what we are?

Talented talkers, whiling their webs

of decay, waste all our days.

Who are they to decide 

how we may proceed, 

what it is best ours to need,

caught up in pitchers of greed.

Camp out far from where butchers

cast their meat from the screen.

Turn eyes, mind, spine, breath

to sweet symphony on the wind.

Take extravagant taste

Cheshire Cat grin

Pleasure can win

Life can be treasure beyond 

mere imagining's failure 

caught up in

the song, the dance, the play

ritual of each gifted day, every

brilliant night

successful Life.

December 6, 2010

Place of Meeting

Cyclic time

Sun betrothed to Earth

Millennia revolve, fade, reassert

Exigencies create growth, conflict

resolution, union, rebirth in mixed

company

yearning for moment to moment

fulfillment, turn away from agony

starbursts beyond window pane, 

beyond range of sight or mind,

impinge

daily

never alone, eternally tracking

dearest salvation, 

lovers' embrace.

Today, here, center of place,

convergence of there and then

face turning to take multitudes,

tasks of trillion hands, burdened brains,

excited, act to act, as strings sing

carrying higher

unlink unity of heartsick pain

learn to spiral, brilliant, free

unstrung dance, elemental music.

Into heart, into mind, into

dancing feet and hands

new thought, new emergence

of sweetest repose in mystery

see the vision promised when 

life wed with fire and air.

Be pleasure; be ebullient

creature purely breathing joy.

December 5, 2010

Shipwrecked

You have no idea the terror I endure

As I have none of yours

If perchance we share even an inkling

of such gut-wrenching feeling

why spend our sowing in enmity

instead of caring friendship?

Look into my vast landscape

as I imbibe exotic air of your

revealed shores

murmur

"Tell me more"

December 2, 2010

Freedom FOR Security

Either, by nature, you're plagued with paranoia

Or you've bought pervasive propaganda.

I do understand:

It was so cheap, and in your colour.

It wasn't labeled "Propaganda"

Sold as "News," common knowledge,

accommodation to the norm.

And it fits your internal dialog so well

"Danger is everywhere these days of disorder,

scary change."

Just like all the days

when Freedom seems such a flimsy wage,

a cheap exchange

for sham Security.

November 27, 2010

More Peace

 In the center

 a quiet stream

 for reflection 

ebbing outward 

gentle ripples 

bathed in sunshine ease 

further out, at the shoreline 

dramas, comedic, tragic, rhapsodic, 

full of song and dance 

for reflection

boys and their toys

It's not about religion.

It's about what it's always about

ultimately, power

boys and their toys

and their pissing contests

blowing up bombs 

to etch their names in the sand

no matter who it destroys

like stomping on ants

because it feels so grand

being the stomper and not

bits of skin and juice

ready to play some more

by your own rules

Scorpionic

The forest is old 

obscured in ghosts and mysteries 

Come out in the wild night with me 

dressed in the stars 

Serenades from the Moon 

intoxicate air aged in adventure

Exult with me in pleasure 

Far from decay of leaves, sad savagery 

 

That strange stained light in the darkness

Silence, a pause in cycling 

Isolate 

Tender reflection in the settling sky

a throne to reign  

weary tantrum waves below 

I can relate 

the deals reality baits me with 

so overrated 

I'm left unsated 

staring at fate's rear 

Now escapes me 

running into future skyscapes 

holding yestereves 

stiff and strained 

closer than this moment 

as it slips 

into one more

I seek that honest sigh, 

that joining smile that art 

of distilling meaning 

Pictographs along the wheel 

to distract from 

its unceasing 

crawl

Caught

an instant

surrounded in space

demanded in time

tells the reaper

continuity

is in the eye

My Story

Who or what am I?

Why am I here?

Tenuous, unspoken, unfocussed

miles from clear

There seemed to be reason

lost some sodden season

I wanted in from the rain

And now?  I appear, I'm afraid,

sans identification

I swear to Creation

I exist

That's never enough, is it?

Exact explanation required

Unprepared for tough quizzing

I fly to my mind, and find

quest 

for desire's surcease;

serene, calm to transpire, for peace:

loving fire of understanding

burns through fog of fear

Centers here

November 7, 2010

If you could see
the glorious imagery
faery play
behind this dreamer,
would you share
your dreams with me,
find symphony
between us?

forest lore

Consciousness
conscious
self-aware

simple fare, not denied
to self-organization
we call life.

We come alive in narrative.

Structured tales
tether history,
scientific discovery:
We saw, surmised, tested,
told for you to see.
All of artistry suspends in story,

society, politics, religion,
myths of tribes and
nations; war and tribulations,
arguments for peace, for justice,
philosophers' laboratories,
suggestions, syntheses
Grey matter cogitates, spins
memory far beyond
sense perception,
evolving interaction within
an eco-sphere.

A tree may speak of self
within its frame

But feels no need to form
fantasies of ancient trees,
explain the lore of forest

Ceres on the Cusp of Venus

Ceres on the Cusp of Venus

Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is She, as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for filling
on chariots of the Moon --
brightly risqué
stars burn in celebration

We have given diligent care
and service, enchanted the
wealth of the surf and sun,
bound nature to noble
oblige.
Welcome Grand Goddess!
Enjoy the fruits and glories
our labour hath wrought
for your adoration.
Work and Love
These are the best,
the holiest,
of life's offerings.



Enjoy your time in the stars
Long, short, eternal
You're in the stars
Enjoy!

Goddess game

Goddess game


What does a Goddess wear
Silver and diamonds hold her elegant hair
Resplendent gown of rainbow weave
Brilliant songbirds upon each sleeve

What does a Goddess want
How shall illustrious power flaunt
Graceful acrobats and clowns
Obeisance of mitres and crowns

What does a Goddess say
Loverly luscious lips at play
"Illusion is everything.
I am your imagining."

Today's Jam

Marionette danse
Sad canyon howls
from deadly sweet sister
chants ricochet
infusion of starlight
Purple witch of spindly wood
bony sorcery
caresses soldier boy
He grows in appreciation
M'Dame, M' Lady, blessing strokes,
charade of bonny play
Look! Old potty rabbit hops
center stage
weary wilder of symphony
choreo-fleet, chiaroscuro
gentle Pierrot laughs
strings a-jerk, akimbo
thrush in plume ready to bloom
just before the denouement, the riddle.
How brash the Moon
How cast away the Star
How close the moment
performance to applause
childish phase unveiled
balanced on the head
of a pose

warm, resonant purr
catch my aha
my epiphany
my cultivated air of mystery
mist armors me
defense of camouflage
eye to dream

caught up in love, in lust
give up the world to follow me hormones
semiotic gestalt
a holographic aspect
we humans forget
'tis our nature to do
open wide to where we once belonged

Bertholt and Muriel kiss fleet aye to eyes
wood palm arabesques
zoom back into throng
the very pain of life a Holiday song
metaliminal passion play in several actions
foggy notions, robes of myst
limbic video bliss

love for your supper
love so you won't be a whore
burn through fog; clearly witness
mutually assured derision

the antithesis of alien
ps and qs
pleasing cues
amusing pleasantries

vibrate trails

vibrate trails


Red balloon Sun sets below gray roofs lush green leaves
Relax, evening's ready to flee on the breeze, run off to join brilliant carnival dizzying noise,
comedies, party parades, grand applause, costume resplendent rebellious glittery glee
Play the big stage on the midway; wind of weary road recedes
Play for the cause, for the team, riding their stories

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads; emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie,
midnight liquid cabaret; fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires

Sunswept mirage bright highways; magic never comes easy on desolation trail
Charisma of injun joe, old bonnie, lost to unpitied gaps, boarded home
Listen to sagelike secret smiles, touchstone melody,
long-tone remedy for ageless desperation, living hard, dying slow alone
Crash flea-ridden roadside traps after the show goes eternally on and on;
wrenched gut throbs, eyes blurred to the howl
Twilight crowd a'clamor for loud resilient community;
tranced instant glamour distant from day's insanity entrains yearn for humanity
Learn flexible grace staggering tribal stadia; fade lines between day and night as you play

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads; emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie,
midnight liquid cabaret; fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires

New York City smells coarse, blood, urine, spit; Boston's vomit, dead fish, pre-hangover-dawn
Callous palaces imbued in dank beer, rowdy song
Limpid eyes scour greying sky, watch clouds transform, mirror dreams
Out on spiral fire escape grates, escaping inside heat,
sway to jungle beat, mesmerized memory carried on breeze
Catch that whiff of inspiration; spin out an anchor of sound vibration
Notes transmit emotion -- magic of music

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads; emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie,
midnight liquid cabaret; fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires


vibrate trails


Red balloon Sun sets below gray roofs lush green leaves
Relax, evening's ready to flee on the breeze,
run off to join brilliant carnival dizzying noise,
comedies, party parades, grand applause,
costume resplendent rebellious glittery glee
Play the big stage on the midway; wind of weary road recedes
Play for the cause, for the team, riding their stories

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads;
emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie, midnight liquid cabaret;
fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires

Sunswept mirage bright highways; magic never comes easy on desolation trail
Charisma of injun joe, old bonnie, lost to unpitied gaps, boarded home
Listen to sagelike secret smiles, touchstone melody,
long-tone remedy for ageless desperation, living hard, dying slow alone
Crash flea-ridden roadside traps after the show goes eternally on and on;
wrenched gut throbs, eyes blurred to the howl
Twilight crowd a'clamor for loud resilient community;
tranced instant glamour distant from day's insanity entrains yearn for humanity
Learn flexible grace staggering tribal stadia;
fade lines between day and night as you play

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads;
emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie, midnight liquid cabaret;
fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires

New York City smells coarse, blood, urine, spit;
Boston's vomit, dead fish, before hangover dawn
Callous palaces imbued in dank beer, rowdy song
Limpid eyes scour cerulean sky, watch clouds transform, mirror dreams
Out on spiral fire escape grates, escaping inside heat,
sway to jungle beat, mesmerized memory carried on breeze
Catch that whiff of inspiration; spin out an anchor of sound vibration
Notes transmit emotion -- magic of music

Pay toll to chance crossings uncertain roads;
emotion fused memory flows, shaman's intimate reverie, midnight liquid cabaret;
fingers, face, desire, dance a montage music inspires

13 Goddess pieces

for the 13 Moons of your new year

Alchemy

Simple acceptance

The dancer with the dance

enter pre-dawn mystery

quiet interval, 

incanting music.

Undulating reverie

alone in Hekate's garden

breathing in the memory

of jasmine and spice.

Weary roads have been traveled

crossroad to crossroad

the journey continues.

Weary days have found sustenance

in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.

Convoluted talk, empty gestures,

soul-less ritual

take up the stitches of time.

Some brave midnight

if I learn my lessons well

I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden

dancing in piquant reverie

leaving my tears and anguish

along the windswept trail,

ebullient music

dancing me

as the Goddess kisses

my tearstains 

into gold.

Approaching Winter 

Twinkling lights. I remember twinkling, 

clouds resplendent awaiting snowfall. 

It's Persephone's time below, 

growing in power, regality. 

Friend to post-living souls, 

hearing their stories, 

sharing her own, 

from the above time.

Flitting about, 

we sing seasonal phrases, 

sweat anxiously in crowded malls 

over inner demands for a never 

remembered perfection. 

Children standing in awe below 

magnificence of glowing giant trees. 

Cities return to primal forest 

for an imaginary season. 

Telling ourselves our stories that 

Santa might find us worthy 

of that shiny plaything that will 

make us all right, make us happy. 

Happy little children, so Mama 

and Papa might be proud, 

stop fighting, 

tell us happy children stories, 

take us back to the Garden. 

Deep below, Persephone combs 

her silken hair, long tangly 

root 

core 

essence. 

Magical petals of bliss and succulent aroma 

lightly fall within the Garden walls. 

The flowers are sleeping, blanketed in 

millennial layers, 

reverberations of stories, 

plotlines thick with forest lore. 

Snowflakes twinkle, lightly falling 

drape long-growing trees 

peacefully awaiting their Queen. 

Persephone's Worlds

I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,

am a woman, a Queen

in my own right

Yet I am treated with the expectations

of a mindless child

in my mother's Summer home.

The Gods are all agog with Zeus,

fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance

above the laws he so imperiously commands.

My Dark King is so much more a man,

sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,

compassionate, if not always kind.

Yet, here I must obey the crowd,

displaying charm and grace

in haute couture, making small, insipid

conversation with the socialites

decorating Zeus' lawn parties.

Up here, life is meaningless, 

All flash and doggerel

to amuse, O', do entertain us

So tiring to endure the ennui.

Those not privy to opulent entitlement,

relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less

endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,

for no good reason.

I hear their horrid tales, 

back in my rightful place and purpose.

Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers

still growling beyond the grave.

I am balm and wise mother.

At last they matter, their stories opening in me

a marvelous passageway through which they are

taken into paradise.

My life above, the petulant daughter,

the pampered goddess spawn,

I endure coldly.

Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to

rituals of the social condition,

know nothing of my true life

under Winter's glory.

Winter Song O' Mother Sun

Winter homage to our waning Sun

that she will return, feed us 

with light and heat, sweet

energy.

Mother Star, we enchant

thee with ceremony, singing/dancing

in glorious pageantry at your feet,

a synergy of faith and formal prayer.

We, your children, refine 

your gift of life, designing

grand structures, grander dreams,

imaging rainbows from your

streaming light;

see how our visions grow to take

flight

under your warm embrace

and on through 

these long dark nights.   We beseech you,

reach out our hands to

share warmth of your reflected love,

Mother Sun.

Mother of shadows

Nyx, 

Dark encircling

womb

Goddess of Night

from sacred firepit

feeds dreamers

the potency of stars'

cosmic light

concave distortion

reflecting 

myth's shadow

Athena's Valentine

Athena fair

stalwart daughter of Zeus

graces her time and place

with divine knowledge.

Today unlined face,

silken hair,

robust yet fragile form

are proclaimed as the graces

of womanhood.

Athena, lost in the pantheon,

whispers to the nightears

of her faithful,

saying:  "True woman's mind

inclines to wisdom."

But Daddy's girl

wants more recompense

for loneliness.

Scrying on the Moon (for Brigid)

~twilight of the goddess, call to song to aery dancing, lady fair your firey trance rewinds our souls; enjoy these offerings of fancy: all art is yours ~

By sibylline light

images I recognize,

creviced captures of my life.

I know her judgment to be my own.

"Nourished by Moon rivers

mythical cavern blooms

unseen by sunlight

glow green."  

Thus she sets the scene;

becomes the prophecy.

"Purest white simplicity

curved to suggest fragility

faith fed maiden ready for 

plucking,

given in bondage to womanly woes,

hard rows to hoe

for that human hug through  

crying of night.

Fate of mortal soldiers, sacrificed to lust.

Seeking relief, beg for the boon of drama

high adventure

sneaking into sad hotels

for a fix or a tumble.

Laughs,

deadly play,

danger, a real chance.

Barefoot in the snow

icy roads

winds so strong

I could not make you hear.

I thought you were my destiny.

Crazy thoughts, far from clear;

but I believed

song lyrics from Saturnine deities

would not lie, leave me

dying, fading into winter's grey

drifting clouds,

endless sorrow endured for naught.

Lost on this careless corner,

dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions

like rain

tapping against eternity's

vast windowpane.

Scenic serenity.

Nature's gradations of green

soothe tired eyes,

trembling nerves, throbbing  veins.

Slivers of moonlight reflect

in withered refrains, unearth secrets

embedded in song

effervescing through cool pure air

cleansing the uprising nestling

set aflame

resurrected

tempered mettle,

pure, wise, tested

engorged with the will

to rise"

 

Goddess Game

What does a Goddess wear

Silver and diamonds hold her elegant hair

Resplendent gown of rainbow weave

Brilliant songbirds upon each sleeve

What does a Goddess want

How shall illustrious power flaunt

Graceful acrobats and clowns

Obeisance of mitres and crowns

What does a Goddess say

Loverly luscious lips at play

"Illusion is everything.

I am your imagining."

Goddess Dreams of Love

In a far off land, across a careening sea

Beauteous Damsel made a brave decree:

"I am the monarch, the dominant She

Who Must Be Obeyed."

Then she smiled a million miles

Sunshine bright for days.

A sad young thing on a lonely cloud-strewn beach

Looks longingly on a face he cannot reach.

If he had the words he knows he could beseech

her with noble speech.  He prays

to the Goddess of Miracles:

"Please, show me the way."

On a cloudless, moonless night redolent of dreams

Towering waves inundate sand, glowing streams

Showering pure delight, igniting those gleams,

A golden thread together sowing their seams

Silent day arrives, crescendos to song

She glides the beach, feeling fit and strong

"Lithe leaping lyric carries me along."

Her eyes reach onto the beach

To the lapping waves

Where he, dreaming, plays.

Out here, deep in the sea, wild and blue

Do you dream of romance, poignant and true?

Afraid when you awake nothing is new

Swimming eternally free, nothing but you?

Singing your song along a lonely beach

Knowing not who or where it's beauty may reach

Strong is the monarch, sure in her speech,

In her reign

Goddess caressed, you are blessed

for all of your days.

My Pet Goddess

We ride creative waves.

Chaste Goddess child, frisky muse

picks daisies and honey

sweet as to please

any Immortal craving

for innocence.

Secret dreams whisk us 

to deep intimacy.

Supernatural companion, she

comforts me, familiar with these

cycles of light and dark

responsibility --

Family, dead strangers.

Mother's Daughter

Father's Hetaera

Beloved of mordant Destiny.

Begging affection, she cuddles

into my simple, eternal fears.

She licks the eyelids of my

inner vision, let's me open.

Together we transcend

hierarchy, 

frolic

between worlds.

Twilight of Goddess Revelation

What twisted so maliciously your mind?

Your God -- Created that greedy leaders may more easily prevail?

Is it guilty shame, seeded by consistent training insisting that you fail?

Lost to balance, whole possibilities, unable to be free or sane

Eternal life is yours, we scream, while you destroy our birthright

in service to conjuror's dream of denial

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of  a self-reasoned heart

II.

Born other than imperial, torn into what we are told is real

without power to protect ourselves from venal brothers of the order

spreading hatred like any venereal disease

We no longer need to meet you cowering on our knees

Karma's a hot potent bitch unschooled in mercy

Witches reclaim noble heritage, reframe will; herstories prevail

Though born, forced to service, in our master's jail,

lost and lonely midst the masses, masked to fit expected forms 

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of a self-reasoned heart

III.

Listen, little one, watching every moment for our chance,

we will break free to adventurers' romance; dance away the chill of

foreign hills enrapt in leaves and grass.  Hiding in primeval castles,

tightly aligned to a bright inner sphere, holding to hope of life to hold dear

Learning to fly, ride to some unknown side, escape from the herd hate stone,

can't be as hard as learning to stand alone.

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of a self-reasoned heart

Venus Guide Us to Peace

a meditative poem

Not just sweetness and light

There is a strength; there is conviction --

there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.

If we can but believe again 

in all the humane virtues --

Love is sharing, 

in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.

Love is forgiving and being forgiven, 

when it is clear that malice was not intended 

or malice has been exorcised 

-- an acceptance of the positive power

of change, of growth in spirit.

Love is the assumption of "we."

We are doing being going having creating

We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge, 

possessions, positions

We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize

our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.

Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols

Love is a power and a glory 

and an all encompassing truth.

Love is addition and multiplication, 

not division nor subtraction.

Love enriches and inspires.

Love is not blind, not foolish.

Love is not denying the self or self interest.

Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely, 

understanding and expanding outward 

to take in the universe

of interconnected, interdependent being.

Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the beauty.

The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.

Love is to peace as music is to harmony.

But how are we to love in a discordant world?

It is within us to pick out the true, 

enduring melody

to which our essential selves are tuned --

If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to 

Venus, the Goddess of Love, 

Peace, Justice, Harmony

as she manifests within us all.

Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's Daughter

Persephone, your will is free

Even as your living is in bondage

to forces much older in their power

You are free to reconcile your fractured life

Daughter in Summer's sun

smiling warmly, playing at innocence

with charms long practiced

Mother's Fool

Mother's Lamb

Saved from that horrible man --

Well, joint custody

Ever Her beloved child

While it is no secret

Down below you are honored Queen

among tortured souls ever needy of your

attentive care

Far from noblesse oblige, it is your

chosen career, though not chosen by you

Are you told enough:

"You do it proud." or even acknowledged 

for the prowess your will gives existence?

Free Will, not Free Choice

It is learning to make of the whole sad cacophony

discrete instruments of harmony, of divine symphony

to find, realize, act with

impeccable integrity

as child or Queen

or someone between

Basho's Footprint

Basho's Footprint

 

Seek what's been sought by the wise in texts of glowing poetry, in deep-

singed blues

in crypt-hewn runes,

in deepest breath turned inward, surprising miles of memory

in whispered library words

by monks solitary 

in solidarity with Muse

who wanders through all time, e-motion, all need for meaning

Seek where your living leads

expecting not, nor pleading for

rejecting not, nor bleeding for

with eyes, with mind, with hands

unbound

May 27, 2010

Crysta

Crysta eats peanut butter spoon from jar

Looks longingly out the big picture 

window of her parents' home

A busy squirrel swirls over the lawn

chitters at the suddenly appearing

barking white scrappy terrier

attached to a leash held

by oh so wonderful, casual, assured

laughs at animal antics

takes you home

feeds you wine and music

soothes so warmly

Crysta dreams

wild auto-car ride into

hilly fields arrayed in

white, yellow, green

wild flowers smile into

split-screen Sun

She tells her dolls incredible tales

Monkeys live in the hills, hidden in

treetops.  Late at night, they sneak

into our souls to dance in ecstatic

romance, leave us wise in ways we have

no business.  Please, take soul, my

plastic playmates, monkey-dance with me

shield and sword

The biggest difference was diversity

If there are so many kinds of people welcome here,

there must be room for me

is how the thinking goes.

Even if I lick my toes before dancing from room to room

to keep clear my position on the ground.

Little Nell sparkles in dark corners,

shimmers like radiant heat behind rings and clouds.

Well made-up bag ladies tisk tisk and tickle under

her flounces, stick her with branding fronds

behind her ears,

Titter just below the threshold so she knows

but knows not what they wish to have told her

that she has no place, no home, no town, no proud name,

but if she will but play according to the script they

have memorized, allow their discrete bullying is just

what she most lovingly desires,

they might not chase her away,

may suckle off her sparkle

until it dims,

gives them pause to move on to more diverting fools.

I exhort you once more to be the change,

change the sign,

sign the slogans with sweeping motions

charge into the fray

breathe the sludge

taste the waste we so freely made

be the cause

because we can only

seize the day

ride wild winds, embrangle kites of prey

deride perversity

invitation

While the world sleeps

We would illuminate the ouroboros of dreams

Rampage through Wonderland, Neverland,

stampedes of roaring dragons,

princesses plucked from flowery fields,

angels dancing, dizzy as daemons, dervish

drunk on coloured rain

atop bright

copper pins.

 

Surreal circuitry of pineal circus

Cast in glorious clowns sparkling

like sequined candy

Proud bears cycle in mid-air,

Amazing feats of flying day-glo trapeze chimpanzees

Wafting popcorn, white sugar scents of delight,

Pansies pop out of top hats, expand

into darkest space

 

We could create 

twinkling, luminous

sacred place

an anchor for unearthly adventure

a tableau of marvel in grace

if you would

play 

relayering

relayering

Estrella's hips gypsy flash 

in undulation dance

a wand of grace.

Swirl crimson silk, bright azure,

surety of bend and sway.

Reality blends with disguise.

We ride this carousel,

touch face eternally I/Thou;

always another side.

 

In all humble complexity,

slowly, deeply, 

moving so cautiously; but

I, due, arrive.

 

Drunk on dawn's cloudy brew.

Cumulative immersion with pollution,

anthropic chemical solution

under which we were formed,

no longer true. Succubine soothed by 

fake adrenalin addiction

to television news, what did we choose 

to lose?

 

Because life is its own necessity ...

No, none of it makes any sense to me!

Free of need for meaning,

without valence,

spiraling out toward eternal peace ...

 

No more credence to believing

a tautology Aristotelian equation --

"We are One".

Who you may be is not for me to say.

I survive in unnoticed crevices,

foraging through what fate throws my way.

Poison salt pours through a desert behind my eyes.

Acid-rain-cleansed. 

With fresh perspective, I paint palliative

pastels of night.

Covered in white for her mourning journey,

New Moon howls, less than a crescent

steals a starless sky.

Back and fore ground merge.

Radiated blossoms, over seasons

acclimate, rise.

speak low

We could speak poetry

language languid with eloquence and charm

evoking meanings far beyond

common conversation's command.

Spin me your dreams and inspirations

Call out my essence to imbibe with meditation

Lean mean serene obscene

we careen through floor and ceiling

in dramatic semantic scenes

ecstatic play

Speak low, my wondrous love

Echo within the interstice of heart and mind

Lift magic's metaphoric blind

Find that dance of pure enchantment

only poetry can conjure.

same old song and dance

You kill me once again.

Carelessly suck my veins 

Heedlessly lick clean my brain

with acid tongue

Tonight warm sticky fluids

coagulate, smother my heart

My lungs no longer breathe under this deluge

Silly me, tomorrow, not forgetting;

forgiving once again

despite the pain of resurrection

August 3, 2010

Serenity

Serenity

Flashes of movement mirrors of 

tarry gnarled old fingers trauma dreams 

hold, entwine, taffy treacly pull down, drown

crying so futile, never stops, never releases

I fall

again

sci-fi horror fantasy more real than fake smiles,

cold hands, helpless face turning into far star light

terrorists every complex day snarl joker style

hand off severed legs, laughing eyes, bleeding mouths

and I

will do anything to hide, to blow up anxious bubbles

surround with sound, screams, Broadway songs,

mistranscribed memories

suck down sweet concoctions, guilt and lye

never dying, just scarring unto scars of ages

dried dirty stitching, buboes filled with rage

seeping, seething, anything to escape

even quiet contemplation

unstilled by manic flashes

August 1, 2010

My Pet Song

My Pet Song

 

Walking with the rhythm

the song in my voice

glorious daydreams

ramble along.

Whatever the weather,

dancing keeps my dreaming

strong...

Sound storms in the midnight sky

Might set me off my pace

Song says:  "Wake up and fly!

Show us your style and grace."

Slipping into rhythm

Song never far from my heart

glorious dreams dance with my eyes

glorious dreams sparkle as we dance.

You'd be surprised how far your feet

can fly.

Twilight of Goddess Revelation

Twilight of Goddess Revelation

What twisted so maliciously your mind?

Your God -- Created that greedy leaders may more easily prevail?

Is it guilty shame, seeded by consistent training insisting that you fail?

Lost to balance, whole possibilities, unable to be free or sane

Eternal life is yours, we scream, while you destroy our birthright

in service to conjuror's dream of denial

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of  a self-reasoned heart

II.

Born other than imperial, torn into what we are told is real

without power to protect ourselves from venal brothers of the order

spreading hatred like any venereal disease

We no longer need to meet you cowering on our knees

Karma's a hot potent bitch unschooled in mercy

Witches reclaiming noble heritage, reframed herstories will prevail

Though born, forced to service, in our master's jail,

lost and lonely midst the masses, masked to fit expected forms 

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of a self-reasoned heart

 

III.

Listen, little one, watching every moment for our chance,

we will break free to adventurers' romance; dance away the chill of

foreign hills enrapt in leaves and grass.  Hiding in primeval castles,

tightly aligned to a bright inner sphere, holding to hope of life to hold dear

Learning to fly, ride to some unknown side, escape from the herd hate stone,

can't be as hard as learning to stand alone.

but it's just for a while, while we learn what we were from the start

each creature alive to the beat of a self-reasoned heart

Body Language

Body Language

Teach Peace

Dancing in the classroom

Body wisdom

Reaches through neural pathways

regenerates whole to whole

soul to soul

touching life

exactly

I feel you in my mind, my spine

Feel me dancing

elongating muscles

extending connections

February 8, 2010

second flooding of Megiddo

second flooding of Megiddo

I've got rain

No words

No fancy maledictions

uneven drips against

my inner scream

Out in the valley

gathering armies

obscured by smoky haze

brightly 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

July 23, 2010

i dream afghanistan

i dream afghanistan

 

little meggie pulls amygdaloid

earlobes high-shriek wails helicopter

loud -- lands inside my dream

carrier to evil arid valleys, sharia alien

landscapes of mars.

surreal desert blooms

van gogh garden of destiny,

bombarded in intoxicant, napalm perfume.

these need annihilation,

poisonous infection so much more sinister

than mere anthrax or apocalypse flu.

Children ought to bloom

smiling daisies

laughing pansies

great grasping reaching to

the Sun, the stars.

We need protection from false prophets

aiming armies

with lethal projectors, lives for lies.

 

July 12, 2010

stone Pan

Like a Pan of stone,

ensorcelled, cast in pain

from home in mystic plains.

Immortal held below 

mundane sky.

 

Mercurial phase.

Experience teaches as ratiocination

never will.

Solitary sojourn.

Search cascading stills,

divine signs.

 

I fish for gutter snipes,

smoke to assuage hunger.

Haven't you?

Silly me, to contradict

your view.

When we met, I was still

so new.

 

Practice willful skills to habit.

Mindfully design impeccable spells.

Immerse in scintillating tidbits,

encrypted tones of Temple bells.

Silly Buddha tricks

are for kids, who sell

services for circuses.

This phase relaxes -- sings out for fun

Enjoy!  The next track looms ahead.

Stone bases crack, licked by the Sun,

Spirit dishonoured as dead

reanimates.

 

Glorious battles can start

in an era of heart.

Glorious peace can be found

in an era of mind.

Stories absorbed in the womb of man

live

in the day to day,

cast an unconscious play.

Until the Covenant is broken.

Astronished, stone breathes, alive.

Mature, Pan, self-freed, grieves 

lost time. 

 

June 2010

 

 

80's legacy (happy Independence)

80's legacy (happy Independence)

Don't blame the GWB administration, it was Reagan and his merry crew.

Though we protested in the post-Vietnam 70's 

hot and sure about every error

the point is, we had that luxury.  Yes, there was hardship, 

discrimination,

individual need; but really no one need go hungry 

for lack of a job, there was real community 

spirit, especially on the lower rungs, but philanthropy as well.

There was a strong foundation that made sense 

and could be reasoned with.

The 80's brought in a different worldview, 

more wide and wild.  Days of cocaine,

champagne, glamour and celebration for sweet deregulation, 

when every dreamer

could believe the capitalist vision of wealth unbound.  

Before it was found that

poisonous as plutonium in the gleeful arms of the truly greedy, 

just what we

were free to become.  

Since then it's been spinning our balance to bits of

blast-warped brains.  

Such unbridled hatred and spitting disdain.  Psychic 

Cassandras said at the time, his numbers are 666.  

A man possessed by

Hollywood fantasies of what we all should be, 

folie a deux with the nation.

And here are those snowy yesteryears roosting 

in our rafters, laying out 

the macabre future of their disaffected dreams.  

Who are we, really?

Distanced from our history, 

believing convenient lies, what are our chances

for recovery?

July 4, 2010

Q & A

Q & A

I need you, out there,

to ask the questions,

feed my liminal factory --

imaginal machinery set to

engineer exquisite ideas

in shrink-wrapped phrases.

Tell me your shame-held

secrets, fears that track you

in the night.

Let me meld them with

trenchant fairytales,

legends that recapitulate

on cable news, vibrant stylings

of the Blues, 

surreal cartoons rendered by

Nietzschean travails.

Let me take this mess,

sprinkle with inchoate memories,

bake well at near 99 degrees

until the odor overtakes the air.

Now, open wide and taste

enchantment, if your questions

and my answers 

meet and satisfy

each other's needs.

July 4, 2010

Meditation on Power to Be

Meditation on Power to Be

 

Uber mind

Creator of all we perceive

conceived in electron energy.

Concentric conscious rings

connected, 

emit reality between.

 

Back beat incorporates flash jazz dance

weaves magic of song;

metaphoric feet entrain,

spinning common lore.

 

Irretrievable voice remains define present.

Hark, this is a moment of re-visions.

 

Brutal authenticity

hallmark of this 21st century.

Refute celestial entities;

express heartfelt wonder for

mysteries beyond our sky,

differences between faith and bliss.

 

May I take this stage to express guesses

(not insist) for conversation:

 

Preachers in this fallen world reach out to touch, to teach

as their creed requires to rectify desire.

Responsibility to each generation begins at conception,

ends at birth.

Children mature counting time to the measure

of what they see as worth.

 

Thus, breeds pestilence in hellfire, soot enhanced treasure

for pleasure of the damned as god's plan.

Beasts and hunting bands maraud green forest, blue shore.

 

Scores equal blessings.

Hammer, nail, ships taut to sail, whistles, tambourines,

cuneiform silkscreens, slaves to machines.

 

Whales were legless leviathans

Once upon a story

 

Early learning cast the play of we and they.

Blood, bone, face

is not man, soil intent on destiny.

Shadow marketeers sell swords, honour,

blessings to follow the faith as good fathers demand.

Soft blood dries -- throes of maggots and microbes

cunningly feast on folly.

Can the wage of war pay to feed our habit?

Vegetation of these mythic forests grows

twisted, tinged in dark crimson layers.

Smell terror, violent death --

fresh meat, or fresh enough for remnant

gnashed snarls of teeth and salivation.

Lullabies drenched in sweet hope

snapped for a dream.

 

War, to improve the species, 

cull the less fit or fortunate,

revitalize with hybridization. 

Trained adversaries of different kin join in 

biocultural cross-fertilization.

New semination, ideas, vigor, replace those

destroyed in battle.  Hegelian dialectic played out

in donnybrook and brothel,

conquered and conquerors commingle in the everyday. 

 

Warrior upon warrior. 

Young, aggressive, strong, culturally arrogant,

seeking honour, adoration, through attack. 

Like young male cats

of the archetypal jungle, sent out from the tribe

to trouble the enemy.

 

Lesser punks relegate to jail.  Yeah, yeah, get the scofflaws off the street;

scapegoats for collective demons need be punished well. 

While locked in hell, too, losers from the gene pool. 

The privileged and their entourage

seldom serve time.  Innocents sans means

get rousted and warehoused.  The holy encourage:

Keep 'em chained until aged weak beyond appeal.

 

Modern reason might usurp these adaptations. 

 

Species, in danger of elimination, needed arrogance

to demand resources

to feed more warriors

to keep each kin group scrambling

for position.   To get more competitive, through competition.

 

Billions of voices shout cacaphony.

Sentient choices blend better as harmony.

By liminal command, young aggressors channel

to sport, fantasy war, adventurous work. 

Next level survival demands we assess, re-learn.

 

 

June 2010