gliding

gliding

Friday, September 25, 2015

Bag Lady

She had warm eyes in the rain
eyes that asked for nothing
though her hand stretched out
taking my nickels and dimes
a light that shines
(forever in suns and spirit)
shone from her eyes
warming me
on this rainy day of tears

no rags, no feet, no love
no heat, no rage, just street
no take, no fuss
our demons make our angels
all the more glorious

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

The Calm Before the Storm

its the calm before the storm
as wind spirits gather and plan
until the time
in the great mystery Creator mind
of every women, child and man

its the calm before the storm
a heavy stillness hangs in the air
nature bows down
to mighty footsteps and a mighty sound
that only nature can hear

its an order such as love
the moves the oceans and grows the trees
ever moving
only ever gaining never losing
pulsing inside you and me

its the calm before the storm
as angels wash their wings and pray
hold their holy breath
counting on life waiting on death
now is the time today is the day

its a calm like no other
as life goes on its merry way
is something wrong here sister?
can you hear me brother?
zombies scatter from the light of day

Monday, June 29, 2015

Queen Street

french cruller
honey glazed odours
linger
on a sticky sweet summer night
of coffee and donuts and big city lights
I sit alone in my white room
high above the donut sales
a curling finger beckons me down
enticing chocolate dripping drops
motioning, this way
a coffee, a donut,
what more could I want?
maybe todays newspaper
to plug up the hole in my heart
street cars rattle by
like huge waves on a strange ocean
crashing on the shores
of dirty sidewalks
hookers and drunks
angry voices, the sea birds of Queen Street
so I sit and listen
sinking down
under concrete
I may drown
fixed, frozen
forgotten
a period piece
this little box
at the top of the stairs
a pastoral painting,
a time when bums were lamp posts
shit and puke rise up from the sidewalk
monoxide swirling
through my blood
a strange love
trotting through the night
through donut holes
on the edge of a cliff
barely at the corner of this picture
not able to go beyond the frame
and exit the sea
of futility
reminding me
of paintings
on my bedroom wall
when I was in that cocoon
strengthening my courage to face the world soon
where I would go
where I needed to go
maybe that's what I've done
maybe that's where I am
in somebody's painting
in some strange land
on Queen Street.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Here, Now

Sometimes I am here, now
listening to your breath
before you form words
from thin air
from wounded places
in deep sacred caves
where someone
you don't even recognize
is crumbling
happy and secure
sometimes this moment
is everything
riding the waves
of your damaged heart
holding the reins,
soft follicles
of your strong hair
so much, here, now
just listening
to your love for me
in, out, here, now
riding the waves

Sunday, March 29, 2015

A Rose Needs It's Thorns


Once upon a time
she handed me her thorns
they were not light
I hesitated
If someone told you
a trek through hell
would lead you to her side
would you cheat
go another way
or swallow hard
and bravely bleed
picking thorns from your skin
a chance to win

The rose is beautiful
queen of the flowers
symbol of love
my heart drags at my side
I forgot why
it’s been so long
the beautiful
need protection
the protector
needs the beautiful
someone has to be strong
time needs no one
dabbing wounds
one puncture hole
at a time


on display in a crystal vase
a heavenly aroma turning brown
delicate pedals falling
thorns left standing
crucibles for transformation
Aphrodite looks down
at a slain Adonis
in a pool of blood
at a love
which needs no explanation
as a rose bush grows
on that very spot
in remembrance
of their immortal
love


Sunday, March 15, 2015

Gazing

In the garden
A mirror
In front of me

A reflection
Of the garden
Disturbed

A silhouette
Bursts
Into flames

The unreality
Of what
Appears absurd

I can’t climb
Into the mirror
Everything fades

The end
Has begun
With earthquakes

Just beginning
A dying
A rising sun

Vision obstructed
Until the ashes
Blow away

until the clock strikes
its poison arrow
at tomorrow

until the hallelujah
exploding shattered
disheartened glass

crunches beneath my feet
a carnival of wickedness
retreats











Monday, January 26, 2015

What is Not


it's not as hopeless
as you perceive
don't leave
in time you will see
where you came from
what you are here to do
you
feeling as they
feel limitation
and the frustration
to be free
when you remember
why you volunteered
as a committed carrier of light
many times
many places
you came
and worlds changed

these others,
sometimes you must allow them
to destroy themselves
with their destructive ways
so they can learn the value of life
learning to feel
because when they don't feel life
they don't value life

dead, not actually alive
they don't make room
for Tinker Bell anymore
playing with imagination
to form creation
they are inundated with electronics
devices
they don't sit and watch the snow swirl
making shapes
or watch the squirrels scamper
preparing for winter
drinking in the grounding nourishment
of nature
they let others
write stories for them
they get what they allow
and now you know

what is real and what is not
once the veil has dropped