gliding

gliding

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Mandala

My past is like a mandala, partly swept away
colored sand diminished
finished or
somewhere
some still here
wherever here is

My memory is a mandala partly swept away
details lost
or frosted over
forever there
waiting for the cold to melt
forgetting how I felt

My life is a mandala partly swept away
a partial picture
not representing a whole
an incomplete story
with blanks to fill in
and sacred spaces yearning to begin

another mandala
what will it be
the wise soul looked lovingly at me
and said
"where there is fear, there is darkness
but where there is light,
darkness cannot exist."

the particles of coloured sand
are never dead


Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Flowers

the flowers talk to me
of appreciation
thirsty their mouths water
to be higher
on some peoples totem poles

then again some dour ants
envy flowers popularity
no annual ant shows
around the world
sort of like growing up a girl

complex social colonies
render such tragedies
industry driving forward
to the brink of madness
rolling over singular sadness

the grasses speak as one
green statements of contentment
while the masses lament
for something else
somewhere outside themselves

behind a bright curtain
the wizard explains
its not my fault
I do my best
you must do the rest

what flowers do best is smile
they do not toil or worry
they lift their heads up as clouds rain down
bringing warriors back
riding sky horses to certain victory

when I was small
an ant the size of a pin head
was my role model
so I could not fly
as an eagle does

if you were an eagle
but told you were an ant
you would never fly
flowers are not concerned with this
as they get kissed by the sun

and really
that's all the appreciation they need
besides one or two idle complaints
the lovely say to me
water your flowers not your weeds

Absolved

against laughter in the night
wrong turns I did invite
vivid colors spin on flowers
busy bees consuming hours
listening to the sixties
on a small white box
everything is groovy
with many rivers to cross

I have no regrets

lost in a wilderness
garden of pain
you loved me once
then please love me again
expire date on eye lids
potential turning rancid
I pace the cage and curse the gate
my shadow heavier than hate

I place no bets

dizzy these days of blooming
like a husk torn from a ripened cob
leaning towards a whole new world
where the sun never died
so it has never risen
losing everything I thought I was
medium height, poetic, lover of the sea
I am mournings ecstasy

absolved of all my debts

Sunday, May 7, 2017

I'm Ready

I’m ready to go
I’m ready to leave
Close to heaven
I have been

I know how it feels
To suppress a scream
When I get there
It won’t be a dream

Your words send me
Flying past the clouds
Flying past the know hows
Flying faster now

I’m ready to go
All the best
Enough of hell
No place left

To bleed, well
Its goodbye my friend
How will I know
If I miss you

Guess the peace
Will tell me
Guess the release
Will not kill me

I’m ready to go
I’m ready to leave
Exhausted with love
Flying past the clouds above

You will forget about me
Out of sight, out of mind
Out of heart, out of gas
Not stranded on the highway

For others to pass

I’m ready to go
The towels thrown in
Shooting past lonely stars
Looking for heaven

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

My Way

my way will not be ignoring them
my way will not be fearing
my way will not be falling prey
to their mumbo jumbo
their new age jargon
my way will not be what others say
it will not be philosophical
but stark cold calling
a spade a spade
a killer a killer
the movie?
not a thriller
a romance
or a comedy
but a brown bag seedy horror
a plethora of shells in your burning eyes
from an array of mortar
in the dark already
in pain both subtle and gory
my way will not be sorry
navigating the last chapter
of the story
the awakened warrior
has a lazar focus
and a narrow neutral path
carrying a flag of life
and a sword of death

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Truth Is A Lonely Warrior

my laptop is my gun
I am in the quiet war
but not with a quiet mind
and not with a quiet weapon
where I stand outside the prison
while my body is a target
electricity my friend
lies are my enemy
I shoot bullets of information
some wound, some kill
some miss,
I tell you this
truth is a lonely warrior
a termite working overtime
until the structure of lies
collapse
and the phoenix flies high
above the burning pile
of all that defiles
justice, peace and love

I am not below or above
I am not near or far
I am because we are

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Devastation and Reconfiguration

Devastation is just reconfiguration
a rearrangement of energy
of molecules
atoms
particles
into
new
arrangements

When things are out of balance
devestation smashes up
the picture
and puts
the pieces
back
in
place

mathematical equations
of harmony
there is always a right answer

until

Restoration is needed
again