Dungeon Boulders

Surely this is a swolen gland of memory
Cursing through my body
Pinching where I’ve been hurt before.

Should I starve you out?
Let you waste away like autumn flowers
Suffocating upon the bed you’ve made?

A cry from depths of my unconscious being
Let out like lightning bolts
Surging through my veins in callous blood clotting.

I hold the reigns, but I do not have this beast tamed,
Wild and friggart he still is
An uncouth I have yet to name.

I shall sweat you out
Heat driving mad, boiling away impurities
With a flame I have stoked ever higher
Designed to inhibit boulders
That this dungeon was built upon.

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.

Trinkets and Lace

My view is distorted by lace and flowers
That have begun to wilt and burn
But the lace remains timelessly
Arched upon the bow
That keeps the clouds, so heavily
From my memory
And takes me back to a house I knew
Down Coppers Lane, remains.
I still smell the ancient windowsills
So beautifully exposed cedar wood
Grains like driftwood at the shore.
This pleasure reminds me
How much needed it is
To carry trinkets for the river.

Absence (day 3089)

With windows
I walked to my ledge
Found out inside
What depth I could hide
Too late
Too long.

With flowers
I held out for more
At the brink of each thought
So that seers could smell
No more
No right.

With sky
I woke into day
An open escape
Eyes of an eagle
So big
So deep.

And with forest
I called out unanswered
So each sentence was cleared
In absence of distraction
I lay
I awoke.

Valley Knight (day 3086)

Morning breath of Saturday glory
Blinding in its sight
Focused on a path of tomorrow
For today is inescaped.
And far above on Midnight’s hill
Rode a tall and lanky Knight
Who dreamt of far off Damsels
Who wore bright flowers of ancient pattern.
Down they swooped and lush they bled
For their heart was bound thy sleeve,
And bottled in a pit of agony
Lay the tremors that fought against
Each and every missing link
Of ancient pattern’s bloom.
But there it grew, there it lifted
Above horizon and into morn’,
There the sight of our dear Knight
Rode amidst Valley full.

Toulouse (day 3042)

Toulouse, my dream of maiden,
Fabric of life,
Seams of Sunshine meeting Flowers,
Crescent of the arcing Moon.
Feel the landscape of Blossom
Flowering as a wish,
For the light downy Feathers
That claim each mistake
Fall lightly beneath the big Oak tree
That protect each fair call
Like dew drops made from Gods.

A Path (day 3016)

I wish for you to empty out
Each basket holding you back
So that the path from you to me
Could speedily find you at.
Not tangled like a natures saunter;
Not alarming like a highway;
Tender like a flower garden
A single track runs through
Worn raw to expose the soil
Frequent use and travel;
A favourite tree along the way
Picked and always greeted;
A bush that stands so proud and full
For one sweet season of the sun;
And at last the view of me to you
A happy moment dearly awaited
Greeting from an open door
Opened at my very soul.