My Suffering

I am not a descendant
Neither an ancestor
I walk only
Upon land un-owned
I hear voices
That I may not know
And recognize patterns
Inside my zone
That don’t jive
With my dreams and goals.

So then shall I be reborn?
Shall I find within me
The God I shall be?
Listening and believing
Actions and ideals
In perfect synchronicity?

My barefeet stumble,
My pattern outlayed.
But I still step softly
In spite the growing
Disillusionment
Bearing down upon my
Alighted brow
So that this God in me
Is the God that you see
And my suffering
Is not the God that shall be
In you.

Alone, Within

I believed in you more as an Oracle
Tongue tied and misery
A vision of perfection
I could not attain alone.

What does it mean to be alone?

I have clouds that tell me history’s greatest moments,
And flowers that share with me great healing.
I have sheep that teach me what patience is,
And goats who are with my to play,
Dogs who speak as they are my best friends,
And cats who are my ancestors.

Alone is a construct
Just as freedom and atomic are.
Just as balance and beauty claim to be.
I am not alone if I keep my eyes open,
My heart open, my ears open.
I am not alone if I am welcoming
And I am not alone if I am one.

What does it mean to be alone
Within one’s self?
Did you find it in full Lotus,
Or Tadasana?

Don’t ask if you can sit with me
For you have sat down here long ago.
I believed in you more as an Oracle
Than a maiden who has lived clear through it all,
Answering all questions with wisdom
I’ve read in ancient books,
As if your born again Nirvana
Is leading me on your path to my own.

I’m unruly,
And this is my own.
I smear my own self along pages
Just long enough
To clear blot my way to
Unsensible un-reasoning,
So that all I need is an Oracle:
A busy sign post with one flashing light.
But all I’ve got is a schoolbus,
Flashing lights of warning,
Danger signals of distance,
Red signs to Stop,
And a safety seat with a seat belt
That doesnt bump too much
As wheels turn
And this bus driver
Takes me further within.

I’m Interested

I’m interested, like the moon is interested in a ruksack.

Take me home, take me there, I want to see where you were made. And I’ll bring my spare tire so I don’t get stuck along the way, because I know a Legend of Boulders that weigh the most upon the road.

But after twilight, after my omnipotent vision among Cassiopeia disperses with Sun’s warmth and glow, I’ll still be looking to the sky, watching for each bomb to blow, each shifting sliver of this silver moon as it orbits slight off of thirty one.

I’m interested. I want to hear the whistle, for without the whistle, I know not who treads there though I’ve heard the Legend told here.

What Is Blessing?

What is blessing?
What is blossom?
What does hard work
Have to do
With my faith and trust?
How often does govern
Intervene with my magic,
Causing my inner blessing
To be lost in a sea of greed.

For my beacon
And my bacon
Do not get seared
Upon the same boiler.
I am a beacon
Like the sun;
Guiding by virtue,
Blazing in darkness,
Finding strength
Through built upon resistance,
Friction in consciousness,
And letting go
Until I no longer need to grasp.

Sitting here I hear policemen
Waving flags and shaming.
Sitting here I hear lawyers
Convincing me of wrongdoings.
Sitting here I hear government
Enacting laws of oppression.
Sitting here I hear,
And I see busy-ness
Building friction
To work itself into
Hellfire inferno.

From this darkness
Ignites foreverago,
A lost simplicity
Sitting in calm;
A bird singing,
A simple inclination,
Base necessities.
There is luxury in nothingness.
There is excess in freedom flow.
There is grand
In what we havent nurtured:
In an ancient Douglas fir,
In ripples of a frozen river,
In breath of wind,
In depth of a blossoming tulip.
There exists here
The base and carnal glow
Lifting thy vibrational flow.

What is blessing?
Did it come to you wrapped?
Did it accompany you from third to fourth gear?
Did it fly with you in a jet aeroplane?
Was it bought at Louis Vuitton?
Was it rolled up and smoked?
Was it intervened in a safety net,
An involuntary rule?
An orgasm of confusion?
What is blessing?

Revolutionary Blood

My revolution has taken its toll
On jagged edges of my soul;
I’ve dawned gloves,
Sawn carefully,
Yet each gold line
I’ve carefully drawn out
– Tracing a route
For my skilled cut –
Has left an array
Of scraps and debris
That keeps slicing
Each fiber I live by,
So that each step I take
A trail of blood
Follows me
Ending at this precipice
My revolution has brought me to.

Healing Is Still

When the streets bleed
With vibrating violence
We know that only scares the guilty
Hanging like
The victims they laid
Aside in their greed;
Healing shall still be far away.

When grass grows
Over crumbled ruins
Abandoned and exposed,
Rebels of a forgotten war
Who plundered all its worth
Relaxing in their misdeeds
Shall fever in the night
And visions reminding them
Healing shall still be far away.

When flags tear at their seams
Weakened in the wind
Salt licking at the sides
Of metal catastrophes
Blowing weeds that take control
Shall struggle upon the ground
Understanding their due;
Healing shall still be far away.

When the last engine
Seizes from strain
Deep in jungle rain, overgrown
And wildcats become predator
Most feared and most bestowed
Vines and trees, all wide and tall
Laying over all regrown
Healing shall still be far away

[listen on Soundcloud]

Cold Fusion of the Mind

Cold fusion plugging my artery
Making its way into my brain
Locked in embrace
With two swines for dinner
Make me a salad if you please.

And a winedrop
Caressing the glass window
Spilled over with a passionate moment
Left a gray cloud
Hovering closely
To the carved portrait on the wall
With graceful messages
In times of need
To all those who took to listen.

And I never left the door open
To invite all the neighbours
Though they took all the mail
And ate the fridge dry
I wore my best suits
And tied my own tie.

Who listened when the podcasts were turned on?
Will the beet juice stain
Each keyboard with fury
Slowly running down the lips
Of the sweetheart
With eyes of translocation
Heavy on my mind.

Materialize (day 3217)

The nay-sayer spoke
In his un-safe tongue
That scared the mothers
Who scolded their babies
And banished the fearless
And awoke hysteria
That ripped the hearts
From youth and bold
Who began their plotting
Behind closed doors
Until a collective vision
Cleared their minds
And they awoke
Materialized.

In Our Light/Eyes (day 3216)

Remember that the brights of your eyes
Are the way we realize
That the answer is all around
That the truth is the sweetest sound.
For in our misunderstanding
Lost in digital confoundry,
Is a lesson we can learn
Of the value we each share.
Physical and presence bring to bear
So we can see it in our eyes
And come to realize
We are all sharing this bead of light
So consequential in our lives.