Rooms of a House

The place that houses the rooms

That fit askance together, is fractured.

 

Pieces of a puzzle - tortured

By lemmings and the loons

Swirling about in cavern tombs

Convince no one of any sanity

Nor of the slightest enmity

Between the dawn and the doom

Where the grace of angel’s lies

Whilst the devil’s wrath doth rise.

 

The cursed rooms collapse into empty

As the vacuum consumes the last entry.

Absolutely Pythagorean

Lines, begin, end

Area, center, outside

Colors, light, hue

 

A theorem of Euclid

Subject, space, time

a, b @2

Equal c square

 

Geometry angles

For three

A love Triangle

Of nerds.

Above

Above me sits my story

Carved expertly with a chisel

And driven hard upon a marble stone

Matter be left with nothing but prone

While the ground keeps me from quarry

 

Above me falls the rain

Seeking my soul’s lorry

To heaven’s gate blessing

Carrying all my sins redressing

Away from the cold naked pain

 

Above me grows the life

That I ran from just the same

Rain, rain wash away the tears

That brought me all my fears

They were never real shame

 

Above me is a sun sky

That will forever hold my view

For now, the night has lost its hold

And I will never need feel its toll

Upon a mind’s troubled kind of blue.

Hold Nothing

As time and age

collects their toll

marking each stop with a scar

it seems especially true

we arrive with nothing

and we will leave with even less -

 

But oh my, how wonderful the time

And the ride we swooned in between!

In Concinnity

Three;

– Four;

and ...

 

Black and white keys step –

fingers rising and falling

Long taunt strings vibrate –

hands sliding and holding

Ears eagerly listening –

wanting an encore

Eyes intently watching –

imagining a classical score

 

Bach minuet in Cee

Young girl dancing in glee.

Musical touch in concinnity –

And the Art is divinity.

Impermanence

The idea and acceptance of impermanence

requires that all things deemed as present,

hold a finite and static position-

that is in some way measurable

or observable

as points in time...

 

Thus, if time is infinitely younger

and too, infinitely older -

then time is a permanent infinite dimension.

 

Where each relative touch

of it is impermanent

and only happens now.

Waiting On RMD Line

Waiting for sense to arrive

on the RMD line:

There, standing, were relatives

And too, knowns sitting around unassigned.

Waiting for casts of dispersions

But then, so many equated into average

That Doctor of Sum inquired,

 

“What you mean

That unknowns are more apparent

once light and dark become transparent;

or once the negative and positive fuse?”

 

Only universal truths and untruths

total all differences

and there is no binary line

scheduled

however, the next stop

while, appearing a lesser breadth,

the relative mean difference

is a perpetual zero of eternal depth.

 

Punch my ticket doctor

I get off at the next diaspora.

Art Affairs

When art grows wings

it becomes the air

that brings on an affair

where the mind sings

desiring forms of dare

that lay upon a canvass bare

to form purple iris carpels in fields

where Persephone's passion reels.

In and Out of Center

If one seeks to find a way out

simply to leave aside one’s carry

and go somewhere where nary

a demand

nor command

can stifle the spirit to tarry

even for one moment’s wary

then one must step about

and find within or without doubt

to take command

with a clear demand

to stand in center’s out.

RDN

Returning To Say

 

One thought sits with us today

a single window to a vast view

of precious moments along the way

that keep our heart’s touch with you.

 

 

(in memory of RDN)

Wisdom of the Lotus

Even at the darkest places

where evil may have traces

there is beauty how one faces

(despite reasons for fear’s basis)

how one finds even then, pure graces.

 

River’s bottom where mud is alive

thick; Lies the essence that derive

the Lotus’s beautiful petals pink thrive

from the seeming dregs lie the hive

whence all beginnings derive

form to an immutable survive.

Cherries in Binary Desires

 

Running thru the endless days

To sit still upon the minute nights

Finding and losing all ways

To grasp at time’s cherry delights.

 

Saving rhymes and chaos of a tenuous past,

Like stones stowed into measured baggage,

Heavy; strident verse packed into sage adage

To sink like weighted tomes to sea’s depth; Vast!

 

The long yellow pier with splintered plank

Excludes no one of the wickedly desired shank.

Nor of the gentle touch of the holy ghost.

Unless and until one accepts that perpetual host.

 

Behind thee the storm’s dark clouds chase

Crying out for reasons for this chastened base.

Pray! Pray, pray for dawn’s bless

For all sins forgiven demand the damned confess.

 

 

Peer into the shadows of the grey

Where chary forgiveness of an idyllic quiet stay.

And then too – scream with cursing desires;

Exploding like wretched waves from the inferno’s fires.