Ashram Day 3 (day 1406)

Rain has a tendency to wash away all thought,
To make tomorrow clean and unmistakeably fresh.
Somewhat similar to every morning,
When waking up,
To accept daylight as if a young child;
New life and chance upon a path
Joined together with some answers,
Some direction,
And much more desire and openness
To find the next step forth.

As tears roll down sunlight’s fingers,
Only self can find shade
To silence what always will be
Into motionless innocence
That plays along the shore
With buckets full of sand.

Captain Black Gun (day 1371)

Never alone he traveled the Seven seas
In sound and perfect harmony
Like wisdom is a memory
Clear blue days were sanctimony.

For our strong Captain whose sea was his own,
We fought together – bonded right strong,
Aligned was his order at once to every cause,
Slave to the Master, Master of us all.

Lost in distances were clear mountain peaks
Of a land no longer home that we’d set off from,
Wives and lovers we’d taken on who
Intently listened for our great song carrying on.

With strength of a thousand men strong
Our ship broke mooring, the voyage was on.
All hands on deck looked forward, ho!
Minds focused intently on journey begun.

Land became imagination that coo’d our souls
Quietly to sleep, rocking to and fro.
To every morning, as we woke to clear day,
Cheap sailors rations to make us row.

Night to day and dark to dawn,
Feign attempts at moving on.
A sailors dream but lasts two days,
Quickly blown and torn away.

It’s here where brotherhood arises,
Amidst thick fog and setting horizons;
A common quest, through all disguises,
Men! Heave-ho! Booty and prizes!

Aye! To think the lot a mere bunch of sailors?
Ruddy men dancing with nightly fancies!
Whence stopped at port, may the best man win!
Captain Black Gun and his notorious escort.

Tis’ not all easy for the roughest of men
Amidst all deceit lives honesty then,
A Pirate’s code delivered in blood
Rests all accused deep below their judgment plank.

And as time comes for setting on,
Morning awaits, mooring long gone,
For silently creaking we steal away
Locked in our treaty of the great Pirate code.

Off again then, land locked lovers lament,
Open sea and sweet smelling air.
All becomes lost, save the fresh smell
Of a clear sunny day and wind in our hair.

So whenever you hear tell of a sailor’s ship
Sailing through the Seven seas at a magnificent clip,
Think to yourself of Captain Black Gun
And the legend that carries the Pirate code strong.

 

Georgia-Straight-Ned-Tobin

Good Morning on the Farm (day 1354)

She stopped to look at me;
Of course I noticed,
It’s what’s come and saved me;
In the garden that we’ve planted,
In the life that we’ve harvested.

So long nights are star-lit,
Wisdom is a campfire,
Pride is found in a solid axe
And love is what reminds me…
Just like a well worn pair of leggings.

You’re there every night!
Roosters wake me at the break of dawn.
I smell well worn leather
And anticipate your footsteps
Coming to say good morning every morning.

Morning God (day 1076)

When I awake in my mother’s freezing basement,
I don’t jump awake like a bloody early morning quack.
I wish to the good god that swept me to sleep
That she’d count all my stars one more time
And whisper sweet nothings into the back of my mind.
To be honest, the sweet nothings are always floating there.
They never leave and rightly so;
Space head filled with clouds.
No, the sweet nothings are what keep me stifled
And snuggled and re-counting my re-counting
Until the moment I absolutely must arise.
You know, that moment that passed a few re-counts ago.
Eyes closed.

Those Words (day 1062)

Don’t say those words.
Don’t whisper into the madness.
Don’t hold my hand when wind blows so strong.
For I am only a man,
A lonely man
Stepping lightly through long blades of grass
Soaked with morning dew.
Hanging on.
Lifting my love
That sits balanced on a finely pressed
Single sheet
Of stationary,
Manufactured with my namesake in mind
And imprinted with layered words
Of forgotten notes
Passed along in a time when I knew
Those words were necessary.

Signatures (day 1022)

Where dizzying spells
Slowly pulled me around
To break sound echoing
Of morning Woodpeckers

Resting my eyes
Into the darkness
Into the evening
Into my soul
That searches endlessly
As torches blaze on
In the far off distance
Awaiting our great Mother
To signal once more
That daybreak is upon us

Rupturing tranquility
Into a heavens daze
A fresh smell of lilacs
And signatures begin their drawl

They Have Got Me (day 1013)

I have got angels.
They dance around naked with long blonde locks
And sing amongst each other banging a drum.
Whenever I stand up to join the chorus
They stop and they wonder and stare at me lost;
It’s not a ‘what the hell is he doing’ stare,
But a ‘caught in the crossfire of beauty’ look.
They tell me my voice is why they stay
Dancing around here, naked as they play.
I have no reason to not believe my angels
For when I am lonely, they are my commitment.
They are what brushes past my face after tears flow,
They are what flickers in my early morning eyes,
They are the cinnamon spicing my sauce,
They are what smooths my sleepy brow out.
My angels cannot do me wrong.
No matter what song perches about their supple lips,
Their fingers dance nimbly through the air.
When they dream of things I cannot yet see,
Their drum echoes through my heart
And I imagine that I can indeed see their spells,
– Woven upon me so tight –
And I hear even in daylight they’re not far away.
When I begin dancing, when I share their dream,
I know I have got angels, and they have got me.