Mind Less

There is a strangeness in the air

As the wind’s presence presses against all senses

While the skin sweats in fear to dare

Step into the swirling waters of the mind

There is a quietness - deep down below

 The surface’s inanity - where gravity is lost

And calmness waits to bestow 

A stillness to the altered mind

From darkness and desperation

Artful upwelling of currents resurface;

Bringing forth the breath of aspiration

And peace to the lessened mind

What Do You Write About

What do you write about ...

What brings you  here

What do you live for

What reason was there for this:   

or that

What do you care about

What do you see

What did you lose

What did you find

What matters most

What demons bring you fear

What god compels you

What truth is real

What mirror reflects you

What day is this

What is that - that you bear

What do you think

What are you

What the ...

A Poem in Seashells

The physics of journey

 Do not require physical movement

As standing perfectly inert

Will, still and all, set witness

To the dynamics of change.

Time is a relentless passage.

The concept that there is transformation

Of anything one gazes upon,

While perhaps a poetically egoistic thought,

The premise ignores a natural truth:

That human eyes are but a blink

Within the oscillations of the cosmos.

The travels of one’s lifetime

Bring everything into full circle -

Where one must eventually confront

The points of cross between the promise of youth

And the realities of age

By accepting the present moment as the one.

A little boy of blue

Traveled across the sea

Seeking shiny coins of gold hue

Collecting instead seashells of glee

That he strung together into leis

Offering them along his wandering ways

Arriving finally, at the end - owning no gold,

But holding unto his presence

With nothing to lose - offering his last ‘lace

While singing with a grace,

“ Gold shines brightly to the hungry eye

But a seashell holds full the secrets of why”.

Red Dress

She wears a red dress often,

More or less, when her mind

Carries away the sun’s kind

The cloth is simple but hangs a dazzling

Display that covers her scar tissue

Tracing back each time life’s reissue

A long yellow silk scarf trails behind

As if waving goodbye to a past day

Which her musings cannot cast  away

Long black hair glistening almost blue

Under the moonlight’s calling

Her pure thoughts though are scrawling

The names of each raconteur

Whose tales she slept

And whose tails she kept

For with the morning dew

She wears only sheer - white dresses

While with death - she caresses

What Have You Done

Sit awhile –

there is time to make and time to waste.

Neither really matters nor makes much sense.

The willows weep - hanging low on their bough

Reaching down to touch the ground’s tense.

The minute hand strikes the midnight hour

In synchronous motion of the last day

At the very moment hence

Derives no more measures

nor holds any more meaning for whence.

Walk with me upon this perilous path;

The way is certain  - though not as foretold.

Save your soliloquies

For they will serve you very well

As honoring eulogies.

A flower lives in this garden

Where the rich dirt hosts death’s decompose

Entertaining grave finalities

While the regenerative savors the compost

Filled with life’s exquisite trivialities

And the gathering flocks

Light upon the wooden fence lines

To sit and witness the mycelium’s banalities

Taking eternal turns just below the forest floors.

Blessings are heard for both mercies and brutalities.

Where have you been

Why are you here

What have you done-

Do you seek  answers;

There are none.

Resilience

Resilience

 

Have a quiet scream friend

As you finally awake from the fall

And your eyes dilate at the white glare

Of the light chasing you from the end.

 

The terror fiends of the dark - call

You back each fright filled night

As particular sounds crack and snap at your back

And you tremble at each lashing’s recall.

 

Sleep no longer visits gently to ease your tiredness.

Peace appears in the lust for a sharp edge

To cut away at ties of sensitivities;

Beheading the savage madness.

 

Pulsing rage courses through each muscle and vein

Visions circling; a kaleidoscope of whirls and flashings

In scenes of skilled horrors and evil harrow

Until the overwhelming moment of intense pain

 

Is quieted by the savior of an unconsciousness

That will weave close the gaping holes of your soul

With threads of resilience; to begin repair

Of a voice once filled with the words of kindness.

 

Have a quiet scream friend

And find release away from the egoistic swings

balanced on taunt lines of purposeful thought;

And jump into the air of nothingness – it is not an end.

 

 

 

 

 

Lying In A State of Denial

I did not descend beyond the depths of my sorrow

I merely collapsed upon them at the very bottom

where the rocks lay stained with the blood of wretchedness

and when time with preacher arrives - fill the box in yarrow

so that my state of denial has an aroma of herb sweetness.

 

I do not see what I have done with the broken glass

In hand – no I cannot accept; I must not accept the sin

That spills out and fills the grave site surrounded by my mares

And when the final words are spoken and prayers close mass

Nay – I say!  Nay, to those who claim my soul was cursed by foolish dares.

 

 

 

 

From Nothingness – Everythingness

 

 

Creation’s basis derives its beginnings from blank space

An emptiness that compels source.

From a silence that yearns voice - rebels call in cacophonous sounds.

A composition assumes a meter; evolving into soothing melodies

Thus, easing the beasts to pause in meditation.

 

From nothingness – everythingness.

A painter finds a moment to capture;

A writer births a thought into immortal existence;

A photographer understands the nuances between  light and dark;

A sculptor finds figure in formless mass.

 

A cosmos expands by collapsing

Being much more by being far less;

Becoming greater by diminishing.

Monolithic physicality changing to a degenerated purity;

The ego of complexity transcending to become one  - in universal simplicity.  

 

 

 

 

Change of Engagement

 

 

He wields his indignation as a fencing riposte.

His wire mask worn to defy any cut

And shrouds eyes that seek weakness - in most.

With bad intention – a parry; a remise at the exposed gut.

 

A point-in-line response to fend threat and to set presence

 

A final fatal thrust through his dilettante essence

 

Prevailing;  vanquishing o’er ill casts

 

Of a beast-master and its feign pasts.

 

 

Wake - young prince from your deep sleep

 

The mares need no longer have - nor keep!