I am Water

Water has substance

And is irrepressible life

Water is ethereal

And has intangible form

Water creates force

And determines life or death

I and him

are me

at odds.

Windings and Clocks

The clock face stands still

holding time trapped

in some distant tower

waiting for the hour

to explain why

the minutes were lapped

by the lost seconds

and why a pendulum’s will

is held by its frozen hands

While the windings sit quietly.

Once-Upon-a-Time

Play things like cars and trucks and toy trains

Lay strewn about a little boy’s room

Waiting, waiting, waiting

For the time line to point the way

To where time travels

And old men - stay.

Work machines such as cranes, robots and mainframes

Closely calibrated to be time constant

Phasing, sequencing at point intervals

Against time; out of time; on time

The time charts noting the course

Of man’s industry less a human line.

The clock’s pendulum swings to and fro

Seconds to minutes; minutes to hours

Tic-Toc; Tic-Toc; Tic-Toc

Time is its own recourse - time after time.

However, there are no more days to name

Against time – only memories of once upon a time.

Contention of Ego

How could one disagree with the mirror’s reflections    

While shadows feign a presence of prominence

And attest to all fears hidden by reactions;

nourished by the opposing preeminence

Of ego’s illusions

And superego’s allusions...

While Id defies the mirror’s attractions.

A Notion of Why

The obvious light at the distant sense,

Where a universe is held upon a pin’s head,

Evolves beyond this moment

And amazingly; eternally

A notion of why.

Fleeting Thoughts; Recurring

The spring garden’s spectrum

In beds of green intertwined

 With reds, purples and yellows

Recurring .... fleeting.

The heart’s beat upon a universe

background of black bespeckled

With lights of life between time and space

Continuum .... infinite.

The path we walk

Connected by hands in clasp

A continuum together.... infinite

Recurring alone... fleeting.

Bear Walk

Stepping out to meet the day

Sleeveless and short pants

Allowing arms and legs to bare

A Midwestern winter’s lore

For fleeced wraps and woolen covers lay

Aside  - along with bitter rants

And in belying degree - the bear

Ambles on; the cold is a bore.  

Dating Nostalgia

The wistfullness of spring

holds age at bay

 

whilst her voice yet sing

the love of each day

 

That nostalgia promises

and reality...

 

compromises.

Score of a Ten Triangle

Ten is name of the frame

Whilst the strike is the passion

That befalls upon all enthralls

Whence perfection's kiss brings bliss.

When ticks of time fall in chaotic rhyme

Lest a lone standard

Leans then stands still –  a forbidding will

Strikes ye cares dead, for alas...  thee shan’t bid spares.

The Collective Mind

The survival of the herd;

the flock;

the school

is based on a communal need to flee

thus, blind communication is instant

and results in choreography of movement -

one direction away and back

regardless of individual need.




The good of the many supersedes the good of the one...



“The Collective Mind is A Constant Known”


A perfect Hive mission statement of our society's

need to communicate instantly and constantly

so to move in mass over the edge

and into the abyss of oneness.



The good of the one outweighs the good of the many...

"Where Do Soldiers Come From"

"Where Do Soldiers Come From"

Where do soldiers come from -

when they stand alone;

How does freedom breathe -

when it gasps for air;

Why do old gray men sleep -

while young golden boys die;

Does freedom ring -

if the bell is cracked;

What has time given - 

that presence has not already taken?

Streets and Boulevards

The narrow line of houses sits quietly

along the darkened village streets. 

Unassuming white candles flickering

at each empty window

perchance anyone may betray

how winter nights of Aquarius allay

the heat of holiday cheer and partying

while the broad city boulevards wore lights a twinkling

and the home’s hearth burned in forestall

of gifts to be given in bestow

of gold, frankincense and myrrh... 

The stilled souls brace against the wind’s breath

taking close harbor in the arms of death.