I walk each trail in early spring
(My eyes forever searching)
For what I know to recognize,
Last years treasure still so clear –
Purple shoots so proud and strong.
And when I happen upon a stand
My heart smiles, my joy is found
Tis seasons first bounty
Abundant and wild
Sprung to sting my hands!
Every leaf so delicately cherished
That joins the wicker basket
(I, so thankful and forever glad)
Will nourish my vitals
So vibrant and healthy
Upon a trail for another year.
I walk each trail in early spring
Dancing through the Kingdom of Joy
Alone, the rupture had a sentence
A package of unexpected buoyancy
Laid about thy path.
Oh, shame shame the clouds have come
Accept thy fate and look back no more
Forgive each breath you once deplored
Let run deep thy river’s mane.
Stepping aside, a willow tree
Called thy name twice in vain
But on the third day, as time began
A shift in conscience pulled at thee.
Then with a rod of sixfold and reel
Twang at last, the pauper’s gold
Gifting all that had been told
Left alone in a field of wildflowers.
A sadness which has my heart is the deepest joy I have ever known. A snaking coil in my veins that surges with pressure of an ancient gale, fierce in spirit, surfacing upon it’s vista. I have come to realize I am the coloration, the reminiscent artifact of ashes smearing an impossible black sand beach at the head of the trust waters. My song is what trees sway to, sitting about the shoreline untouched by humanity’s destructive progress and filled with such contrast, from lightness to a darkness deep within the bosom of her mossy embrace. My song reaches to the toenails while standing barefoot upon this cold black sand, embracing wind as it blows every last hair drawn fabric about thy heart. My heart is forever in liberty, just as these black pebbles cackle at retreating waves. My heart is a mariner with a squint of foggy shorelines, and my sadness is forever the rope mooring our rowboat beached upon this black sand beach.
Gaia woke today, lazily,
Spread her wings in stretch.
She reached and yawned
Until the moon
Came upon her back.
From here she exposed
Her underbelly –
A welcoming of sorts,
To which the joys
Could be heard
Echoing across the land.
And as the dancing
Round and round
Began to reach climax,
Her sister, the sun,
Her dress trailing along.
Through the gates,
Past the edge,
Along the well worn path,
Until Gaia’s eyes
Turned a fiery red
And she reclined to bed.
Who roameth among the curly haired
That lay about the shores,
Shall forever wear a lily placed
Carefully about their hair.
And if a suitor shall come upon
A maiden basking there
(Be it lost, be it strove,
Be it guided by knowing stars
Alight – bright! in the sky)
Lucky shall friends of friends
Who knew one once a while,
Whenceforth shall say,
Amidst pure joy,
Lucky’s in a heart so full.
Today I dove into the earth
Straight to my father, Hades.
He spoke of worry, and other sorts
Of malady and ill-practice.
I lamented these points
In great detail, until my eyes filled up
With great regret,
The sorts that has no name.
Persephone, the great King’s wife,
Delighted me with wine,
And as we sat in the great hall
My eyes grew heavier still.
Until the calm of so much storm
Threw me into: unearthed,
I was no longer man, no longer breathed
All I ever was did mourn.
But just as soon as hell did pass,
Just as the ghost had called my name,
I woke at once, with a great start,
And Nothing welcomed me home.
So there was I, burnt inside and out,
Left to be held close by Nothing.
There were no words, but all was said,
Until calm rolled over my mind.
Lost is always a mystery,
A lance driven in by force.
But so is joy and unbound glory,
To the victor go the spoils!
‘Till at last the weeds come out
All laid out for thy viewing,
Where sparks become the ignition
To infinity forever after.
Upon my pony I did gallop,
Into up out and off to my home.
I crawled around and foraged a while
To scavenge for my dinner’s meal.
And there I saw, in haste to my father
I had missed what now spoke to me,
A field of love, in golden ripe
Which at last meant I was at home.
Don’t purchase my love;
I want you to bleed.
I want you to lay down
And sacrifice everything,
A pure devotion
Of unrelenting desire.
A life long pursuit
Of fear and anger
And joy and jubilee
I want you to bleed.
And for me to feed
The ever increasing need
With my raw and carnal instinct,
That you shall become me.
And I will be your lifeline.
It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown
And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew
Apocalyptic desires spread across the landscape into horizons of jubilant joy, needlessly wandering about the edges in a vignetted blur of reason and sacrifice.
All that was known then suddenly became lost, like the vision from the eyes when consciousness is shifted into the willing arms of a sideways glance, a flicker at the edges of a landscape.
Energy begins to build with anticipation and excitement; roaming birds know this feeling well, they make love to the feeling on sunny days when warm winds blow fresh scents of motherly creations of earth upon their nest.
Laying absentmindedness at the door, whipper-whisps swap the mind to the present, dust floats up from the awoken floorboards hitting sunlight that delights lovers, playing with time and space it’s exchange grows with anticipation into one final exultant gasp and releases such a tremor the rest fall into a deep dark sleep.
Deep within runs wild, from all except the grumpy gnome, the soldier of harbouring resentment, who scowls at all life and pushes away forthcoming joys to create for himself the place he never wished he had.
Alongside this dwelling of darkness runs a brook wild, over mossy rocks, through gnarled trees, past covered bridges, and out into the pussy willows and lily pads.
Taking away with it, from upstream down to the lowlands, all hate, love, magic, potions, desires, misspent emotions, and dying flowers into a new season of germination where new things shall sprout and grow with playful arches of sun that float onwards and away as the magical fruits of earth we know.
Evening approached and the table was set
Kids gathered around all dressed in their best
I, with my wisdom, did carve out the ham
Sharpened the knives for thinly sliced meat
Hors d’oeurves were laid out for the hungry to snack
But all there to witness couldn’t resist what they saw
Candles were lit for the mood of the night
Glasses all clinked in festive thanks: grace
Feverishly eating, heavenly tasting
The food all consumed, the belly extended
Happily the family rested in joy
Content from the feasting
Warm from their labours
This was their Christmas as it ended in bliss