Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Sublime Disease

there you sat
with midnight's drift
a man alone
with night's sweet angels
and gentle moved
the heated breeze
revealing sublime disease

as each had coated
all the angles
with words and paint
and promise sweet
such things they say
in midnight's heat
so kind, such love
what a dream
yes, yes, what a dream

their words, their hair
pleasing seemed
even though
its all amiss
from the first whispered kiss
something hissed
and told a tale of love and bliss

wings are broken
hair in tangles
torn stockings
legs a-dangle
claws and teeth
underneath
and yet they keep chanting peace...

and so it goes
you do not see
the story continues needlessly
oh seeker, what do you seek?
to feed the strong to the weak?

round and round
you wonder why
coat the world with pretty lies
on the poster
on the wall
epic quotes drip down the halls

what is hidden
what is drowned
a life thats lived underground
like a feeling
like a sound
the truth is deep
the truth is bound
why something lost
remains unfound

a little boy now
looking up
wonders why
the silence calls
wonders what would woo them all
before their painted faces fall?

soon, he knows
from behind the masks
the darkness crawls
and demon's dance
down the halls
down the street
dance the world
until she bleeds

a little boy now
he wonders still
will they ever have their fill?

there he sat
hands in prayer for midnight's drift
stillness in the heated air
his aloneness
is a gift
as he wonders
as he cries
is there a way
to make it shift?






Wednesday, May 21, 2014

misty peru by the coast

heading to rest
soft, nest
tired body
content mind
as i look outside

the mist presses
my window pane
red light smears
itself across
the floating water blanket
that is the lima skyline

i could write a novel
on the window pane dew
going from flat to flat
an entire saga
would be welcomed
by the persistent precipitation
peacefully enveloping
glass surfaces
from this block
to the next.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

I DO LOVE YOU








good night my love
I DO LOVE YOU


he says as he turns out the light


but what does that mean?
i just want to be seen
when i try to express
my distress
about how you bless me
with your absence


when i say,
where were you when
you say oh no
away i must go!


you disappear
something hit near?
but the question is clear
so what is love
if you are always above?
tell me, dear
i’ll lend you my ear
when you disappear
what is it you fear?


but instead
you go dead
and up lifts the head
theories and talks
ideas, of
compassion and bliss
but if you can’t walk the path
then somethings a miss


if you can’t stumble
and stagger
but only can swagger
glide into a room
alight with insight
picked up from a book
you read in the night
mysterious, vague
the right kind of precise
with a sweet, soft glance
and a touch so nice
who could resist
such a sweet kiss
with promises
of high-minded bliss?


if the rocks and the rain
earn a composed disdain
if the tears and the joy
miss you, oh boy
and your life passes you by
without the doing the work
down here on earth
because you’re afraid of the hurt
because sometimes there’s pain
tears, rain, storms, forms,
thunder claps, relapse,
it’s really insane
if your life passes you by
without doing the work
what was the point of a human birth?


tuck your heart back
between sharp shoulder blades
sew it up tight
with logic and rage
but whenever its stirred
the anger in there
oh lover,  beware
pulling back, push away
oh what a dance!
the darkness inside
granting despair
what we hide never hides
so here it is
showing up again
the way we respond
to the ones we call friends
so pain rules the day
but it’s the same damn play
the actors have changed
maybe you’ve rearranged
different hair, a new belt
you maintain your bad luck
is just the hand you’re dealt


but i’m telling you, sir
there is another way
to rewrite the play
walking into a brave, new day
to feel in the rain
when it pours
down your back
your hopes down the drain
your life in the crack
soaking you wet
like the coldest sweat
you don’t disapear
you wash your soul clear
walking along,
sing a sad, sad song
to the nightingale
to the owls, to the sky
singing your heart out till you feel you will die
you bend and you sway
like a willow in wind
but continuing on
you still look within
and the night becomes dark
your clothes like ice
all alone
and the woods don’t feel nice
nothing is there, and no ones around
but still your feet walking
on such hallowed ground


such is life
that’s how it goes
in the dark
as times slows
broken, beaten, wet and cold
but deep down inside
becoming more whole


because that is life
and why we’re on earth
this work is why
you chose human birth
if you were meant
to be in clouds
floating, flying,
high above the ground
in one simple word
you know what you’d be?
something with wings and a beak
in one word,
a bird
but, here you are
with two arms and a heart
you’re not a turtle
stuck in a shell
hiding inside
your own personal hell
so why pretend
locking up tight
poking your head out
and saying alls right?


you were given insight
guts, skin and bones
confusing experiences
underlying tones
people in pain
doing painful things
and all of these gifts
these situations
“it’s not me
it’s you”
- come on,
now
is that really true?

we all co-create
from our inner state
if you’re not aware
what’s lurking in there
or can’t be bothered
to really care
then don’t be surprised
when i see the disguise
placed over the pain
tucked down inside
and wish you the best
as i turn to the west
and sink my soul into tranquil sunsets


the thing you run from
the feelings you shun
these are your tools
to break down the walls
to break down the theories
so you can run through the halls
feeling life as it comes
in your bones, guts and heart
the clearest of souls
shaking off the dark
so what do we do
when life churns the world?
keep diggin my dear
look for the pearl
into your belly
into your core
take yourself back
reclaim your center
and begin to unpack
you’ll be surprised
what’s lurking in there
the unconscious ways
the ideas declared
we think we know
but what a mess it becomes!
until we face
what keeps coming up
the world outside
comes from within
so is it time yet
for the journey to begin?


ah here we are
willing to look
one page at a time
re-writing your book
nothing to do
no one to be
all that is needed is
willingness to see.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Circus Fair



If now is the moment
why are you not here?

When I call your name
nothing appears...

Apparitions, full of fear
Haunt the mind as day draws near...

too many corners
in between
when i see you
you don't see me
turn the lock
toss the key
go running back
thru history


Lover, love, lover, loved,
so it slips to the sky above
like prayers cut from trembling lips
the secret stolen from bridled bliss
your truth like rocks, piled high
a stark, solid, crumbling pile
fades into the dark night sky...

I remember midnight when
we sat giggling on playground swings
and flew so high, falling back,
it was glee
it was slack
it was tiptoes
on wooden floors
avoiding boards that made squeaking noise
I showed you my childhood toys
and you smiled with all your poise
knowing little girls like that...

so now i see
how we missed
each moment of sattvic bliss
disturbed, and unending train
like the ocean becomes the rain
becomes the falling on mountain tops
becomes the spring, becomes the cup
and she drinks it, ever near
a trembling lip and falling tear...
she waited for him to appear
night sky unframed by his silhouette
she knew she had not found him yet

Memories fade, like morning dew
I never thought I would stop loving you
I never thought you would stop too
We never knew which thought was true
but here it goes,
the poetry becomes the prose
becomes the smile turned upside down
becomes the stories in which we drown
becomes the way we lose ourselves
the ideas that steal our health

nothing resolves,
yet something grows
filling up the broken holes
something glows like molten rock
and suddenly, pain just stops

all is free, and light and air
like children in their underwear
forgetting just why to care
about having a soul laid bare
just enjoy the circus fair
kick up your heals
toss back your hair
balance your heart on moonbeam's stride
tone your mind, forget your pride
remembering it's just a ride
and only the living come out alive...
























Sunday, May 26, 2013

the undulating dark

quiet morning
like cherry blossom dropping
when the wind is absent
i arose, remembering.

there was an angel in my dreams
before i woke
all was golden light
gold on gold
even standing in the cold
bold

a summer field stretched
wooden fences
with gaps
to keep hapless sad in
the soft wind
disturbing air on skin
everything cast over in gold

he tried to remind me
of where I had been and where I was going
such an angel.

But not quite the same as God.
although beautiful answers
that made perfect sense
alignment, structure, form
all represented with precision.

I could not agree

Something inside of me
Murky, raw, sleek
the dark places where things grow
the room you board up
the part you hide
laughing it away at cocktail parties
and weddings, at church, and funerals
although at funerals we let it out a little....
but not at the supermarket
the part we spend our lives avoiding
tumultuous, turning, yearning, unseen,
tumbling down like a castle in the hands of time and vines.
until we die
and are reclaimed by the vices of microscopic life

This part of me was not in his vision
he refused it's consideration in his calculations
this way assured I knew
if the world failed
it would be my fault
for harboring darkness
for not cutting that part out and offering it's writhing to the cleansing rays
of the sun god

i told him he should seek peace
instead of change
insight instead of gold
trouble, loneliness, desperation,
such beautiful flaws are the landscapes that invite sunset horizons
sitting beneath a vast sky in a life of flawed achievement ripe with meaning
and bursting with poetry to ease the soul
mythos and mangoes,
ideals well-met with dripping ripe sweetness
instead of museums of well-sorted gems
stacked upon each other
untouchable and frozen
the world can never be perfect i screamed into the golden polish
for then it would surely die
without the undulating dark rolling out
creation.






Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Dishes Had Piled UP High in Her Mind.....





my dear,

don't miss the forest for the trees
he said
they were in manhattan
and she wasn't sure which forest he was talking about

the dishes had piled up high
in her mind
stacks of filth
and soggy bread crusts
lost ideals
sunk deep in the wilted lettuce sink drain
tumbling backwards in time
and undoing all the beauty
that could ever exist forever between them
replaced with memories of childhood furies,
and the failures of parentals
with muttered curses
she uttered under
dried egg yolk stuck
scratched teflon pans

and he would walk by it all
and ask her to dance
what an inappropriate activity when there was work to be done
cleaning, organizing
buying
lists
upon lists
upon lists
and things to clean the things you clean your things with...
and he walked right by it all to sit high
on the urban mountains called "roof"

as he sat on the top of the building
the world an open valley
 anywhere he perched was his castle
she would look up at him as he gazed dreamily upon inner landscapes
remember. 
she could remember him when she saw him like that
softer days
when love made their feet touch feet
and their touching feet made their life tingle with meaning and joy
when she wanted to share every secret, every joy, each little story and big dream
where she whispered sweet promises of forever to him

and he told her
'we can decide upon forever when first you meet me here'
i have been waiting for you for 40 days and 40 nights
just show up
come back
all will be well
with love and kindness
do not forget
what can be
and loose the forest for the trees...

but they were in manhattan
walking down another street
there was no forest as far as the eye could see
but right in front of her was a maple tree.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Kurt Vonnegut and Easter

i will be back in an hour he said
as he grabbed his hat and left
the feeling of sunset arising early in the morning
left Mary's head spinning.

it seemed they had only just begun.

the kitchen smelled of caraways seeds and olive oil
on Easter Sunday
all the butter and fluff and tinsel
couldn't make up for too much familiarity

after an hour had passed
it seemed eternity did an impression
of 2000 years of human turmoil
filled with misunderstanding
of what is sacred
what is seed
what is fruit
and where was he?

so she grabbed her hat and stepped out.
feeling naked as she combed the city searching

the grass was pregnant with eggs
and every passerby
was a parade of apparitions
pale imitations of him
that faded when she neared.

as she wandered
as she wondered
what would come next?
one thought echoed down through eternity
from a great master
who saw straight to the heart of humanity...

 "Since Alice had never received any religious instruction, and since she had led a blameless life, she never thought of her awful luck as being anything but accidents in a very busy place. Good for her."

"So it goes."  - Kurt Vonnegut