How can a memory create something new?
I am propelled forward by what has come before
I refuse this – this stagnant propulsion.
I’d rather go nowhere else, if not somewhere new
I would just as soon be still and die right where I stand
Than continue down this path of sameness!
I did not come to be guided and molded by what was already here
Nor did I come to be a follower of the dictates of others
It is because of this that I have lost my clarity of sight
To travel the unknown is to be veiled in darkness and uncertainty
From this point forward, let me go in blindness
I will be the spark that lights the way, one step at a time
And to all the hungry travelers I meet upon my way
With your slouching shoulders and your drooping mouth
As you crouch along your safely lighted path
I will scream a song of death to you as I go by
Perhaps it will be enough to kill you where you stand
And you too can rise in blindness bearing witness to a world anew!
I can see Solomon from where I Am
In this time of mine so far removed
Yet there he is none the less lamenting
What a travesty that him and I could
Not meet and cry between us
All the useless trappings of man
I would demand – “show me this god of yours
Who gives wisdom knowledge and joy”
Yet he would not see Him in Me
Because he never caught the wind
Though it Be inside him all along
For all his wisdom – did he never
Think to look there?
Her name was deception,
And she wore the mantle of pretense like no other.
There were daggers hidden in those pearls of white
That smile cuts deep – beyond any place of earthly healing.
She brandished her manipulations veiled in compliments.
Each one a burrowing maggot of uncertainty,
Rotting the flesh that once thrived.
Killing relationships, one by one,
Her own insecurity driving each death!
~ And the fishing! Oh, that fishing!
First she lured you in with carefully crafted concern,
And once that bait was taken, she jerked the line
That she so callously tethered to your heart!
The hook was torn with malice as she tossed you away,
The love she scorned left swirling in a pretty pool of red!
~ And the reflection! Oh that hideous reflection!
For the first time I see what I had refused to see!
Her face! Not the phony, pretty, pretending one,
But the one behind the lie – with the grimace that she hides.
It is marred by derision and fear. Now I see
That awful, suspicious, cold heart of wanting!
~ And my outstretched hand in a state of pause!
I wanted so much to believe the lie.
How I wish I could unknow a thing – To put back that apple!
But now it can’t be helped.
One day I will surprise that liar.
I will strike that fakeness, and watch that porcelain
Mask shatter to ruins at my feet
My red palm dripping into a pretty pool of red
Revealing at last that things which are seen
Are not always made of the things which do appear!
Wrongdoers eagerly listen to gossip;
liars pay close attention to slander.
I came to the shallow grassy moor
Where the stagnant waters stilled
And the stale air the breeze did wield
Stoned me with the heaviness that it bore
Crestfallen as I had come to Be
Flowing away – my strength did yield
I found myself falling – dying on that field
Laden with grief, and nowhere to flee
Down I went kneeling in those untamed reeds
As all my worldly notions – they were killed
In the emptiness that found me – Truth revealed
“The only seed is Love, it fills all needs”
I was alighted in that moment on the moor
Where my life was stopped, and stilled
My heart brimming with mercy as it healed
And Loved me with the heaviness that it bore
Coffee thrills awake.
The morning sun takes notice,
rising to my whim.
The eye always sees
the cultivation of thought,
and responds in kind.
Dawn settling in.
Music springs from the silence,
with soft flapping wings.
conceived the impossible,
then created it!
Mastery of words.
Colors print in black on white,
beauty for the mind!
Love’s Eternal Source.
The Truth of darkness revealed.
I was always Light!
I saw them there among the caskets,
Buried deeply ‘neath the hard packed earth
And the sleepers in their tombs bedded down
Their slumbers, forgotten as they turn to bone
And yet the many open holes were dug and left
A site no one other than me seemed to see
The people gathering, one by one – dropping deep
Into the slow death of life – and no one heard them
As they screamed from their open graves.
She spoke no English – I, no Russian.
But we sat in silent smiles,
drinking tea – the years making us friends.
One day, dropping the kids at school,
“it’s froggy out,” she said. I pause, then nod,
“Yes my friend, it is froggy out.”
“Gift certifercate,” she said.
What? I asked. “I need a gift
certifercate.” Standing beside me
in his unknowingness, he corrected her.
Me quickly jabbing him in the side, interjecting,
“Right my friend, gift certifercate.”
Memories of friends long moved on –
The blending of lives and loves, of cultures –
Words melding with new meaning –
Little gems that glow and glint my mind –
Endearing the past to my present with joy –
By way of froggy days and gift certifercates.
So come! Come with me my love, and sit
awhile more – let us remember those
small treasures, those flawless imperfections
that entangle us so completely in our humanism.
Let us muse a little longer of days past
As we linger here in your favorite anacondriack chair!
Rest is a wonderful respite
When the battle has been
Hard fought and long
Those demons were never mine
Beliefs long held and pressed
Upon me like death that
Choked away my spirit
Making me in its likeness
How I hated myself
I have since discarded those
Rags worn like robes by others
Resting now only attired
In what was always beneath
– My Golden Skin
There are boxes and boxes filled
To the brim with people – in droves
They go to their own demise
Thinking how clever they are to have
Outsmarted god with their goodness
Not knowing that No One ever achieved
Wholeness by denying half of themselves
I had hidden away that beast
Link by link bound in the dark
The “evil” of which I became afraid
How I once rejoiced in this rapacious
Side of myself, as though
I be a saint in disguise
I could rip and tear away illusion
Like mere reflections on glass
No lie ever withstood my claws
Until I retracted them – or so I thought
The wolf will not be settled or stilled
No more than the lamb will fiercely protect
To deny the one, is to find the other
Slaughtered in the field
Only together will they Be
Whole and Untouched
My untamed beast would have its ravening
Be it me, or the world it freed
Even in darkness its purpose would be wrought
Again and again I felt its pummel
Upon myself – ripping away every false façade
With its thirsty blood drenched jaws
Until Lo – We stood as One unchained