Friday, May 22, 2015

thots of Taurus 2015

I want a new drug to take me
where I’ve never been.
Make me believe, again
that adventure exists.
Myths suggest metaphors.
Touch, arresting scent, texture,
nuance of gesture,
uncertainty, grasp of mortality --
evidence of reality.
I need a wider consciousness
that includes more breath
opening views, vibrating hues,
bracing hugs.

Life is a marvelous adventure
for the human race to destroy.
We are the ogres, trolls, mean demons
(not so noble as dragons, so wise as
witches and wizards).

a less than 1 percent tax on all economic activities
to remind us we need this social structure for our
trades to make sense
to supply revenue for government functions --
to pay employees, buy and rent supplies to
implement programs deemed best managed in this way.

Unattached to painful past – too busy creating
a glorious future.

I embody archetype Artist.
She suits me, green and purple harlequin.
I catch stars, spin upon diamond precipide
to gather silken yarn, angora wonders.
See, below a spider bridge is spun
that I may capture hydration, sparkling dew,
lubricating stew of what befalls.
Awe is my fuel of choice.
Those who care, follow my voice,
deserve truth.
Beauty destroys to heroically mend.
Betrays to befriend.
She is not meant to be trusted, but beloved
by joy in immanence.


as if a haiku
brushstroke upon facing wall
captures bird in flight


Maybe not inspired, but inspiring

I've lived these rivers.
As well have I imbibed their rushing
advice, stagnant stories, magic of silent
poetry, flowing.

All of a peace, rambling bridge, abiding river, we between.


You’re still here.
A sour taste toothpaste won’t disappear.
So much done, without accomplishment.
Concept of fun lacks referent.
Entrainment in popular art to escape pain.
Less loss blessed as gain.
Who am I to complain?
Some fantasized morning when I’m
straight and sure
I’ll saunter through a door
I never knew existed.

may 2, 2015

Edie had to admit to herself a qualm, but only the slightest
atavistic whisper.  So she talked to herself sternly, and now
that qualm is gone, never has any existence more.

Marcus and Betty were innocents, babbling what to other
ears mere nonsense, amazed and relieved to just be in the
presence of someone so ordinary in a world of others who
were anything but.

I am a transfaith, anti-gender, alien lifeform in a human body.
Now what were we talking about?

Self-transforming darling art
deep, soulful conversation,
not social obligation
about putting intransigent folks
at ease.
Yes!  I passionately yearn for peace.
But not “Peace” as shackles,
as in “Peace at any price.”
Peace I crave demands mutual respect,
a right to thrive as I define, so long as
my definition includes respect for those
rights of each and every “I”.
(If we don’t spell out these rules, someone
always complains their issues were not properly
accommodated  --
as if we could poll all billions of members by name
and affiliation. )
What was I saying – lost in rambling digression,
giving expression to rants on my mind.
Yes, peace
and profound conversation.
Over libations.
Surrounded by sublime illustrations.
All’s well.  Pleasurable interval.


kindness to sadness
kindness to pain
kindness to sustain through unkind fates and
desperate foes
kindness to capture the flow of mindfulness
to find redress for all those in blindness
randomly casting stones of shame
kindness as last gentle spray to ease sleep of
kindness as a blessing we may best keep in
ever opening expression