Wind is howling through this house
Like inescapable tombs of our past
Flesh biting flesh
Wrapped with fabric so dusty it crumbles.
Yet in open webs I can still see through
Nostalgia hits an ancient bone
That even her subtle breath of wind
Finds it hard to escape duty of.
Slowly eyelids close as raspy sun strokes,
A dying ember reminds us each
That our throat of life
Calms the day’s very nature.
For it was not the forgotten
The lost
Emancipated yet still beyond.
It cried in open grace
As ancient wisdom
Ran down it’s thriving face.
Ritual abided;
Nature presided.
Delicacy tingled
Down worthy veins
And touched what fettered lines
Could only whisper.
There it was;
Sunlight becoming
Brave, luminous, potent,
Crying for all that’s been lost
Yet standing tall
At the gates of judgement.
I do not know what I want to hear
Sweet voices
Tambourines
Drawn out organs
Single noted cellos.
Sounds have become adjusted
To a key un-lay,
Not entirely audible
But clearly a deeper feeling
That rests not
Incus and Malleus…
Deeper.
Tap roots of an ancient breath
Hammered into shape,
Ten thousand soldiers,
Fire and Dragon’s wings.
I took a cut out of ancient Seed
Planted for two mouths
Carrying my load
I walked into
Cave, so darkened now.
When I stood bare,
Face to face
With Angel who knew my name
Who asked me only one question
To learn how I had came,
To which I remarked:
I shall not remain
Only I shall wear your mark.
She then held me
And we shared all
And I became her name.
Yellow coals burn in my ancient fire
Radiating my self into night
For I cometh for no depth
No talisman – slender
I come for the full weight
Of each choice I’ve ever met.
So I’m left here spinning
Middle of the square,
Conscious of my coals
In the hands of each soul
My remission dares to re-enter.
Fewer things in life feel
As good as sharp steel
The power it beholds
With energy in every fold.
When the stone hits its mark
Every burr and nick removed
Ancient lines of pitted use
Tell stories no one can refute
To be used again ten thousand times
Steel and tool combined.
I am the age of an ancient warrior
Inspect me from the ground
Grind my bones to dust around
That build you a new throne
Take me to Olympia
To seek ritual truth
Take me from the goats up high
To bury me in sound
Fashioned from steel and stones
Forever in the ground
Rage at the antics talking heads play
Forced to surrender, no other way
Lost is ancient, history’s gone
For a game of dollars, enemy’s way
Has taken our diversity
Plants natural genome
Genetically modified, organic no more
Infecting, irreversible turned our seed
Unrecognized, sterile, stale,
Yet to talking heads playing games
A patent awaits the honeybees bum
To take from the farmer lands that his hands
Have nurtured and worked,
Life giving no more.
/end lawsuit
Goodbye to another day
Worked my fingers raw
Played a song
With Wild Buffalo
Who danced an ancient dance.
Watched Orion come and go
And set the moon aglow,
And in my heart
I knew it’d come
To waking once more
Into a day, another work
Filling me with all my mirth.
Clearly I had spoken to
A widow from the North
Her eyes gave me
A look I had known
A grief I could remember
But in her touch
She called to me
In words – ancient –
I’d nearly forgot,
So I reached out
Into her soul
And took what
She had to share