Thursday, March 31, 2011

Fool's journey

The Earth screams
People die before their time
Or never get much life
Species die, their music silenced
Crazy theories of wealth
belie obligation or simple seeing
the laws of consequence
Scream Earth!
Pierce the cosmos with your
terrible cry
Acid rain burning through gold
A long and twisty journey
to find myself where I started
never having gone at all...

Half a Page of Scribbled Lines
Stone cottage
Enchanted fireplace flickers stories
old and new
Giants and waterfalls
Energy sprites in flight
casting luminescent nets
bewitched between.
Walk sedately
sweep for malevolent intent
subliminally aware
Psychic feelers
Unobtrusive surveillance
Brain shaking data bombardment
Tiny spinal fractures emit
memory, reason, the capacity to love.
Realities Doorway
Free to wander
all the stories that
could ever be,
choose the ones I
like the best
to tell myself
in sleepy morning
The sacred doorway stands open
my little house surrounded
in gentle blue heaven.
Over landscape bold and bright
soft-hued bubbles
carry enchantment
voyage sirens call
blessed reefs of serenity
sparkle in play with sun-warmed
Dream on, to
interweave, to enhance
Outside my doorway
there are eternities more.
Over the Rainbow
New edge, over the rainbow
arches through iridescent swamp,
lush green
mystic desert silken kissed
with poppy-killing snow.
Who do we ever really know?
Sins and shadows
Erupt like boils, or
volcanoes dormant for years,
Sardonic smiles:
"Caught you!  Thought I was blind?
Or a fool!  Can't catch me twice, with
one eye sleeping.  My fury knows
no writs nor injunctions.
Take your medicine, writhe in
agony; lose integrity,
become a thing of poignant
beauty, limping off into bitter
No defense.  No glory.
I sneak through a crack in
the world.
Here in the center, we bake bread,
forge goldless treasure, sing
holy dreams into the ears of
misbegotten slaves.
Sometimes a song on the radio,
slipping through the airwaves,
tells us something true.
Sometimes I look at you,
and see a wondrous child,
rainbows shining in
wide-open dreaming eyes.
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.
Standing askew as the inexorable boot commands
squeezing out gems, polished and pure.
Paid in bread and circuses.
Bathed in raw entitlement
dreams of ravaging, raping at will
drinking bright blood doped with
ecstatic thrill
casting lot that promised reward
be assured.
Cold, this world.
Shadow sans Sun.
Listless lapping at sparkling carbonation.
Sinking below matter and form
into terror stories;
taking warmth from smoldering coals.
As tomorrow continues today
your heart dissipates
dispersing pearls of wisdom.
She loved the world of screaming suns and malignant moons. It carried her emptiness into blazing symphonies that only she would dance within. In quiet dreams it pleased her to believe she sought another. None would appear with the grace to dance just so, to harmonize her music.
Evolution, Conscious Divinity sending out bolts of energy and matter and saying: "Let there be life!" Whatever. Just blind moths in the darkness burning for the light.
It's so cruel
all you learn in school
is mocking behavior
reciting the rule
not that life's there to savor
for the free playful fool
Neptune's Fool
I burst my bubble daily
just to feel the pain
I paint my face up gaily
to melt out in the rain
My bag of tricks is magic
But no one calls to buy
I wish my life were tragic
Horrendously awry
That would explain my sad refrain
so bravely strong, heroic
a saint, stately and stoic
But in truth I'm just a bum
the very lowest sum
of higher expectations.
So, elbow up and drown in
my libations
(salutations, obviously optional).
It's not that I'm exceptional
(what a wrench that was to say)
but that the conventional
I label reprehensible
snake crawls into my Freudian
super-nanny state
No longer can I deny reliance
on strangers of kindness who never stick around.
So please, kindly grant to me,
feed my sustaining fantasy,
Hear me, and answer:  "How profound!"
A Fool I've been
walking behind visions
cringing from derision
seeking solace from a merry Moon
too soon gone old
Checking back on follies
sticking pins in pain -- jolly?
no, morose, cold ... 
Harridan crone
Have my wanderings sown
no happy harvest, no cozy home?
Snuggling into punishing remorse
"You knew you should have run a better course!"
"You know you deserve to be alone."
Is that true?  Am I the Fool careening
down the precipice,
broken, no meaning;
is this my hapless fate?
Or my self-hate insisting I mistake
a journey for a goal?
A Fool can be a cherished, merry soul
dancing the golden mountain trail
reveling in freezing rain and snow
tasting the bite without bitterness
This I know
April 1, 2011

another road song

Not all mothers are loving
Not all grandmas are kind
DNA carrying hate,
these people need special care,
teaching that sharing can lead
to connection,
expand brain and heart,
create better art, despite
blighted start, with concentration,
consecration to a sane desire
What would it require?

Can I entice you with wine?
Whirlwind romance, 
peaks of ecstasy, words of heresy --
whatever fantasy brings relief 
I would be happy to end your grief,
to devour your fear, sweep your road clear,
help to feed your fire

March 30, 2011

Tune In

Tune In

Just relax
Don't think about a thing
Just relax
Close your eyes and feel serene
Just relax
Feel the loosening of all your cares
Look behind your eyes, 
Become aware
of the miracle that
you really are

I lived in a fantasy where people cared about me, because that is what people do.  It was a stupid assumption, because it allowed me to ignore the truth.  I was unkind to myself, guilty over disappointing them.  I conjured every excuse for them disappointing me.  No one is guilty here.  It was all a mistake, a case of mistaken identity.  I misidentified humanity as being like me.  Yet, I misidentify myself as well if I claim to care for the sake of caring.  I care because it gives me a perverse pleasure to imagine how you might feel.

Rain's moody music
invites slow dance adventure
with sorrow's sister

Pain in small doses
builds tolerance over time
or so you would think

Calligraphy laughs
says:  I am but a bottle
message writes within

Seconds have been lost
randomly, without notice
What Now have you found?

Equality Knocks

Equality Knocks (March 20, 2011)

"Fortune favors the brave."

But I am not brave. 
Too tired for that world
to matter
I'd rather speak of far out
stars and possibilities
not likely to come knocking 
at my door.

"The poor have always been among us."

When we measure ourselves
and each other
on a scale of credit and debt,
who gets to order the jet,
who gets to die at  
hands and feet even more
desperate, or cheat their way
into a prison cell
or other hell
created just for show,
so everyone can know
the wages of failure
to fit on the narrow queue.

There's nothing I can do
to change the course
of history
for those believing mystery
means we never know what's true.
A solution is only supplied
when the whole shines brighter than
any craven side.


Waning Sun, Waxing Moon

old mask Moon
smiling like a jukebox tune
make my world safe for dreams
safe from politicians' schemes
from atrocious barbs of flaming
from kindergarten cliques of shaming
Frame a sane world to carry happy fantasies
lush and fragrant trees
lust of flowers for bees a'busy buzzing
kickback days for country kissing cousins
homespun lace, grace philosophies,
sainted prophecies of peace and fun
If any light could do it, you're the One
reflecting, as you do, our fiery Sun
in calm consideration
old mask Moon
over days of tribulation
we need a tune to dance away
give a chance for play
to wash and heal our wounds
smiling captivating tune
hums, caresses into sleep
lighting lazy seas of dreams

March 28, 2011

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

bearing water for Brigid

Bearing Water for Brigid

Sketches for a water vessel --
bottle and message elide on waves.
Voice of Brigid calls. 
All who hear: Imagine.
Exposed to wind, to grit, to rain
and hail,
rock faces erode.

Designated fixed space
Sacrosanct container 
Conveyor through fluid
Creates place, surface to paint.
diffusement of emotion,
beatitude, foment of dueling farce.

Harsh edges polished,
pure colors
blend in the dark.
Brief infusion 
of giddy illusion
just enough to guilefully entice.
Sparkling Neural net 
a secret
clue revealing
purpose, meaning,
wild eternal child,
ages' flamboyant fool,

(Voice rains from within)

A wound is a sacred vessel.
Pain carves into flesh
sense memory;
carries the seed
of its own demise.
engulfed in life
learns anew to be whole.

Wounded with the potential for wisdom
when eyes are are pried 
from seeping, sucking, suffering
aching to censure what future we admire.
Redefine the schizm.
This wound is our project.
To heal, discover the vision;
realign the seam to fit 
self-framed landscape.

Let loose that genie of desire.
Ride rushing blood streams. 
Build a roaring pyre of grief,
insane belief in wrathfilled deities.
Revile that old refrain: "life is pain" or a game
to be lost.
No Faustian bargain.
Just a  
rambling adventure
to explore
essence of ecstasy.
Don't wait for the rest to see
and demur.
Stretch your sail.
Take sight of your guiding star.
The only failure is self-denial
in favor of the vile lie
that pain is destiny
instead of faithful friend
lending energy
for change.

Slice vivid memories. 
Exult in the tastes, the textures.
Enliven your way.

In the end
the vessel breaks.
There the Goddess stirs

2011 Aquarius

under covers

Cloud cover of gabble
Too much heat
Not enough light
for intelligent life
to thrive

Sing another chorus?
Clear the cover before us
with voices like sirens
Uncover, dispell the curse
if you will
or be part of the kill

Here, in this still place,
prior to awakening,
which dream takes hold?
Dream whatever dream you see.
Reveal your potent imagery.
Rlease your awesome wings
-- it's okay; it's just a dream ...

tasty bits

short and pithy tasty bits
exorbitant flavor with a subtle backbite
exquisitely rendered
to entice and bring in

exorbitant flavor with subtle bite
exquisitely rendered
tasty bits
to entice and bring in

for celebration, inauguartion, ceremony, praise a cronie, explain a gaffe, contain a laugh, decry oppression, make a suggestion

threading the needle to curtain the stage 
singing cherubs bounce and curtsy 
orating sage twinkle-eyed flirts, 
he touches his nose, wrinkles his toes 
calls to his wand's to and fro sewing 
all recite into song 
weaving their music along

Silver bracelet of Moonlight
shines in night's prism of serene
casting breath, luminescent desire
emboldened in reflection

There is nothingness enough in all of negation 
Be a thing, many things, all things, some things 
Be a source of action 
Be the essence of dissatisfaction 
Be the smiling taste of flies 
upon the tongue of lotus-wise old toad 
Be bliss in amazement 
of egoic reflection on all this 
Nothing is never ALL

Revolution comes when it is ready 
The spark that lights the fire can be seen oh so many times 
Only when the tinder is sufficiently arranged will the fire take hold 
It burns with clear fidelity to dramatic interlude, to the cry of an erupted moment 
After images, ash sparks in the twilight, take flight, swirl within echoed breeze 
Readiness, relative to the free winds of chaos 
Revolution is but a shared anthem, parts of anger and revenge, 
parts of reaching toward a new religion 
In the aftermath of chaos, 
what bright vision will sustain?

sing another chorus

Sing Another Chorus

Life is a beautiful carousel
Flaming ponies made in Hell
Just when you think:
"It's going swell."
the haunts overtake and destroy
where you dwell.
So sing and play me bonny boy
Hoist yer ale; inhale yer joint
Keep it light in the pale, dank night
and work through the blazing day
till you've given it all away

Jan. 10, 2011



We are Enlightened
We rule by Math, not Myth
We create wealth scientifically
In quest of our largesse
the rest come on their knees,
not in piety, but abject fealty
to this reality
we so expertly

it's all about the fun!

It's all about the after party
Drinking to the reviews
The critics speak, and we choose
Popping champagne in celebration
Teary beer mugs of commiseration

After all the unceasing pressure
grief and pleasure in overload measure
holding in that sea of emotion
to assure that the all holy show goes on
after it's all been and gone
after the crowd's gone home, no longer
our lords and masters
after all the disasters we feared
and worked to avert
have appeared or agreed to desert,
it must be clear we deserve this sweet release!

Up in the clouds where, finally we're allowed,
lose or win,
to please ourselves, abandon reason for
this brief season of illusive dreaming,
to refind that childlike mirthful grin
where it all begins

March 4, 2011

acts of magick

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

January 20, 2011