Friday, September 22, 2017

Libra Ingress

Autumn Calls a Prologue to Fall
 
 
Autumn Falls
Ever deeper,
into setting Sun, call of leaves.
Days diminish.
Secret scent sings grail quests, startling mysteries,
dense synchronicities.
In ceremony gathering hunters leap to frenzied victory, pray to
coalesce blessing --
crepuscular forest, deepening tales, shadow deities.
Ritual brings chthonic beauty, fierce death/wild rebirth.
Energy dervishes, drunk from fruits of Earth, swirl
into ecstasy; face becoming.  Sun dies
from Western skies.
Realign.
 
 
 
Early autumn firelight
reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of cavalry,
dire warnings and endless hide and strike.
 
The game, the funhouse, turns deadly.
Sanctuary calls, demanding sacrifice.
The noble phoenix fed on frankenseed
can not rise.
 
Skies descend, dark mirroring.
Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet,
masks the taste of bitter bile, secret vomiting,
starving despite harvest's gay array of treats.
Faded, nearly blind, falling in and out of
shamanic fever, primeval native dancers beyond sight,
ripple of tribal beat at the periphery
ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and brilliant breaks
starbright constellations.
 
I am breathing
crisp air of autumn's evening
I am walking
mist obscures my view.
Lost in a vision, in a Van Gogh painting,
hysterical laughter, gut wrenching tears,
a vision of weeping, knees bent and falling
permission I grant me.
 
Traversing worlds,
seasons, years, moments of clarity.
Fall beyond need, wish, to invent boundaries.
 
 
 
Life, the Universe and Everything
(for Patty)
 
 
Let’s talk about life
the one you have and the one you imagined . . .
With all the world of possibilities,
what have you settled for?
Waking up in the cool, cool morning
Autumn crisp — as your lungs reach for air
The sounds, the smells, the awaited adventures
Anticipation . . .
Or merely another day?
Do you long for love in the dark, dusky evening?
Do you count the countless stars,
knowing a miracle is on its way?
Has the chill of eternity captured your imagination?
What anchors you to Earth?
What makes you want to stay?
A journey of a thousand destinies
Written deep within your soul
Traveling daily through all the possibilities
Which are the parts that make you whole?
 
 
 
A Vignette
 
 
It was a simple house in a simple town.
The road was long and winding.
Two men sat on the road.
They were playing cards.
One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed.
They were not playing for any stakes,
But as an excuse for companionship.
It was a simple house in a simple town.
Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods
 that lined the roadway.
It was noon, but the day was overcast;
 not dark, but pleasantly muted.
It was autumn.
The trees were proud of their majestic leaves
of gold and magenta which covered their branches
 and sprinkled the earth.
Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen
amidst the trees, leaves and earth.
The two men were aware of all this in the
 backgrounds of their minds.
They were also aware of the pleasantness
 of their peaceful companionship
 as they played cards, passed the bottle
 and made casual conversation about this and that.
It was a simple house in a simple town
 by the side of a long and windy road
 which was surrounded by woods.
A plane passed overhead
and was briefly a part of this scene,
 before moving on to more important places.
 
 
 
 
 
In deep field dreams
rustic woodfire comfort
blesses autumn morn
 
 
love like breeze through leaves,
song of future longing,
autumn in the wind
 
 
 
Libra
 
 
The scales of Justice
Yin and Yang
The interchange of love
A world in perfect balance
Twixt summer/winter extremes
The perfect beauty of sun shining
on rainbow puddles
reflecting the brilliant colors
of changing leaves.
 
 
 
Entering into a joy of its own
a love long forgotten, yet never
denied . . .
Deeply felt, deeply buried in
memory's tomb
deeply covered in resplendent autumn leaves.
Empty pockets of longing
temporarily filled by tears which
tumble through.like coins
through torn clothing
hard earned but never spent;
I weep for you.
I feel deeply the worn, spent soul.
Entering into a joy of its own,
not looking back.
The creeping darkness of Autumn
Ancient gray, descending,

Awaiting fulfillment.

Friday, September 8, 2017

feel the Bern/political poetry

City silhouette,
cut-outs for lighted windows.
Inside, stories are shared, embellished
to suit the mood.
Mrs. Rio’s son flew into combat.
See her so brave, civilly smiling,
wishing well to each partier who greets her.
But don’t we all have our masked anxieties,
sorrows, shames?  Civilly shaking hands,
breathing deeply to hold from shaking
inappropriately.  Please, more liquid dullness,
more chemical restraint.
More strident complaint of political --
yes Our World’s gone to hell!
How dare THEY tell us how to behave!
I’ve a mind to blast them all into atoms,
to take a stand against whomever crosses
my path without due regard.
When did everything get so hard,
so unyielding, so thick?
I know there was a once we made more sense,
gave more embracing warmth.
There are stories.
What are yours?
 
 
 
politics
 
 
infinite regression of change and resistance
multi-rhythmed rhyme
singing into the winds of change
to move their vector more in line
with where we wish to arrive
 
 
 
so sick (in my gut, in my head, in my heart, in my arms) of all the divisiveness.  Men can't understand women.  Whites can't understand blacks.  Rich can't understand poor.  Left can't understand right ...
That's why we have language, art, long-term complicated relationships, community projects and festivals and  -- tell me your story

If they were listening, I would say:
figure it out
but first, think about your precepts
and, most importantly,
where you want to be
(not where you should; or where you could)
on the other side.

It’s a self-fulfilling system, with plenty
of bad actors to go around.
Theories for social distribution of power (politics)
or resources (economics)
 
 
The privileged have the power of wealthThe people have the numbers, andless and less to lose
 
 
 
ive Revolution
 
 
Revolution comes when it is ready.
Sparks so many times seem sure to light, embolden change.
Only when the tinder is sufficiently arranged will fire take hold.
Blaze clear fidelity to this erupted moment, charging forward.
After images, ash flakes in settling dark, take flight,
swirl within echoed breeze.
Readiness, relative to chaos, free range of human whim.
Revolution is but a shared anthem, parts of anger and revenge,
parts of reaching toward a new religion.
In the aftermath of violent schism,
what bright vision will sustain?
 
 
 
 
 
New World Order
 
 
Post-feudal society
obsessed with security and place
lock-step shuffle of obeisance
counting corners, counting on
science and leaders of order
counting on gospel served cold,
filleted, and layered just so.
Fashionably secured, tied and
corseted, made up for easy recognition.
"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! Buy me
the pretty fire." So mesmerizing, so
certain to tell me who I am, how to be.
Casting savage spells, they are,
far and wide, telecommunication.
Tying up and tidying with vast
imaginary whips and wheels,
spinning like a Pied Piper's tales.
No wonder.
We get it wrong and twisted.
Throwing out the wheat to eat
the chaff.  Poisoning the well
that no enemy may drink our bounty.
Burning our bridges and tunnels
to save them.
Embarrassment of riches.
Gorging on fine cakes and
sugar water champagne.
No wonder.
Eerie daylight marching
timed by mechanistic masters
armed with decisions directing
torture, incarceration.
Power derived from the people
constrained of memory
mistaking some paranoid parody
for a promise of life.
 
 
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.
 
 
 
 
Feudal Diffraction
 
 
It's not the color chart; it's the hierarchy.
Hoarders of permission slips for supplies
thereby decide what gets prioritized,
which brick gets laid, or even fired,
who lives well,
who scrapes til they no longer get by.
It's not our genetic code that compels stupidity.
Perhaps it's a kind of manic compulsion,
depressive obsession,
mass psychosis,
St. Vitus line-dance to a zombie
caller's tune.
What to do?
Meme-web reconstruction in increments
paradigm warping incidents
realign the pulse of macro/microsphere
benign gibberish cy-phones through?
Take back your time.
Take back your right to self-valuation.
Take back your place
outside of the lines.
If our needs, self-fulfilling desires, greater
ecstatic glory and grace
are to be based
on solid infrastructure,
on fruitful interplay,
on free and freeing expression,
let us take hands in
undulating, beatific dance
multi-rhythmed
direction.
Let us be and do and feel
that which gives us permission
to be whole.
 
 

social net
 
to paraphrase that great poet, Donald Rumsfeld:  We work with the Congress we have, not the Congress we wish we had
 
 
Yes, of course we ought be fiscally responsible.
Yet of far more import is that we be rational.
Hyperbolic apoplectic, Apocalyptic rhetoric
reduces us from politic to stagey raving maniacs.
No need for such hysteria; learn from recent history.
The flagrant ways of LBJ, Reagan and GWB
found mitigation in administrations following.
The People, energized, expand instead of wallowing.
Exciting industries take hold, real worth -- not hollow gold.
 
The conversation we as a nation need
is not a war of virtue versus greed
or capturing the rules to win a game
or playing catch with sophistry and shame.
We need to ask and answer in sobriety
Who we best can be as a society
 
 
 
 
When the national project was stolen before our horrified stares
When it became our duty to kill and destroy for the convenience of profit
When humane policy became anathema, unworthy economic drag
When the will of the gambling elite gamed the rule of law to their pocket
Did you scream so loud that bitter blood poured from your lungs?
Did you set up mourning camps to gather forces,
to train grief and rage into worthy opponents against true freedom's foes?
Did you gaze into the cold eyes of propagandists and say "No!"?
Or did you march along in the parade, assured:  "First they get theirs; then we get ours."?
 
 
 
 
Prophecy
 
 
And He became The One
as we all swarmed together
in His direction
anointing our Saviour.
We, so impatient to be saved
from evil history
from slavery, hunger, hate
to make a better fate
for our kids
(and, don't kid yourself, ourselves).
Caught up, trapped, in the trappings
of fashion, co-opted hypnotic
consciousness.
Drugs to cure us of our many flaws;
because if you're not flawless you
haven't got a chance.
In marketplace fierce competition,
a youthful escapade can ruin you
for a respectable life,
that adheres peers' and elders' expectations.
And then where are you?
May as well be burning in eternal
damnation -- at last.
At least Satan wants you
for your sins.
In a mythical colony,
far from their petulant King,
it is said a people
fought and died, and stood their ground
for freedom.
It is said such pageant plays
are widely performed today.
"Freedom is not Free; but based
on blood sacrifice."  They say.
Freedom dependent on militia,
on strictly disciplined troops
firing into pregnant crowds.
Ancient wizards foretold
potent prophecy.
We will not listen.
We insist on martyrdom,
worshipping, as we do,
cults of murder.
Thus human life leads inexorably
to eternal death,
just as we demand,
when we all come together
anointing yet another One.
 
 
 
We Didn't Know
 
 
Efficient development requires deprivement.
No profit, no playground to feel alive in.
Those few groomed for career cheer, mocking:
"Can't you hear; that's freedom knocking."
"Work for rent, or stay in school, dude."
You get no cake for being a loser.
Orwell warned "Big Brother is watching."
We didn't know he meant on you-tube.
 
We didn't know our life was a crime
Sentenced from birth to pay all our time
Cast from the truck to the roadside to rot
Drawn outside of luck, all about what you're not.
Media screams their revealed truth feud.
Sell saturated garbage labeled food.
Orwell warned; we were warned:
"The best of you will be co-opted."
We didn't know they meant on you-tube.
 
 
 
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 color.
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.
 
 
 
So envious of the unwanted? Quit your lousy job, too taxed, too overworked, too ignored.
Surely you deserve better those under. Enjoy your natural bounty, and all that our country offers.
Taxes? Ever it has been so in our culture. Jesus was born, so the story goes, when his mortal parents
were on the road to pay required tithes of their livelihoods. For the privilege of doing business, trading
our time and skills for pay, the top takes their cut. We pay our homage and percentage to our lord,
and hope his armies will protect us from invading hordes.
If you don’t like the system developed over eons for the benefit of those who have forced their way
to be in charge, create a better one. Then (here’s the trick) sell it to a majority; and make them care enough
to follow through.
Money will never be out of politics. It’s too attractive a game. The only way around that is to make money
irrelevant. The people would need to understand and agree on better leadership, better policies, that are
personally meaningful to them. They need to feel a real stake, real reason to believe it’s not all fixed
beyond their ability to make a difference. And, it’s got to be easy to begin.
 
 
 
It's not about
black or white
might is right
fuel to fight
 
It's not about
East or West
who's the best
forget the rest
 
It's about
me and you,
if we so choose,
what we can do
 
 
 
turn the protest into a party;surround the hate groups with flowers, and love
Sing and dance and make a racket
They won't know what to make of it
They'll try to shout out "HATE!" --
drown out their silly songs with roaring anthems
to peace and fun ~
 
 
Time for dancing in the street to relieve stressTime to take a peaceful revolution to the people
Time to recapitulate the 60's in the light of greater hindsight
and foresight
and vision
to demand true freedom
first of ourselves
then with each other
people
united
to wrest our best hopes
from reality
 
 
 
I miss the space, open and free and wildI miss the marvel in exploration of each child
I miss the sky of stars unmarred by jets
I miss a market based on trade instead of bets
I miss people happily about their work
without expressing through their inner jerk
I miss sentimental time not on tv
I miss the way we thought by now we'd be
 
 
 
The Earth screamsPeople die before their time
Or never get much of a 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
falls
 
 
 
Government happens
Power differentials are natural
Makes sense to attend to these matters
consciously,
rationally.
Hot heads, coarse tongues, flail of arm,
crush of foot, outthrust chest, rancorous
demands
lively show and tell;
Yes, such forceful yell might get bells
ringing, choirs singing, merry pageantry.
After roaring Sun’s descended, crowds
disbanded to bars and beds
to dream lusty victories or private
histories, nobody charged to watch
for this twinkling of time.
Without law, there is no crime.
Without rules, no crown ascends
by common call – but only by
all against all
in squall of terrors,
contests of survival, games
scored in blood.
Believe all people peaceful
if you just let us be.
Walk among our brethren.
Tell me what you see.
If human kindness is our cure,
why do the poor stay poor?
Truly self-governing civility would
so obviously

transcend ills of political governments.