Lucid Dreams of Life

Send the Siren who will croon to my blood

Knowledge of how to ride this flood

For a storm comes again, though not in violence

It rages now in stealthy silence

 

Tides growing restless on receding shores

Selling redemption on the streets, and in the stores

Waves and walls will come crashing down

Those who can’t swim with the current, will drown

 

So I am summoning Olde songs of creation, rebirth

The clarion call that long ago awakened this earth

Instruct me once again to embody tempest wind

For learning how wings fly, is a genesis within

 

A willingness to fall, yet the courage to leap

I will look to your wisdom when I sleep

My heartbeat recalls drums on the savanna, I dance

As stars wheel above me, in epiphany’s glance

 

At The Bottom Of My Ink Well

The Memory Of Trees

Behind my eyelids, there lies a whispering aspen grove in the crisp white mist of an autumn sunrise. Crystalline pearls of dew adorn the curled icy fronds of lady fern and scatter like diamonds in the morning grass. A mockingbird preens his soft grey feathers on a cold naked bough, melting with the muted hues of a sleeping forest. His song cuts sharply through the crisp mountain air, trembling through hoarfrost flowers blooming on a mother log, and rushing into the playful splash of a quiet stream.

Just there, where a holly bush covets an old cedar stump, comes the dainty step of a young doe. Softly through frozen loam she pads, the litter of fall rusting slightly beneath her tread as she  leaves the cover of tree line for the crisp grass in a sleepy meadow.

The sun rises slowly from an eastern peak, bathing the wood in a soft rosy…

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Shine

Too many words worn down with ink
Distilling my thoughts with ease, one blink
Will hold galaxies of dream, incommunicable emotion
Description becomes a frivolous notion

Poetry is merely a reflection of soul
If one is empty, a heart doesn’t feel pull
Gravity is the result of our accumulation of mass
Gathering pieces of friends who orbit past
Incorporating Truth as we find it shown
Making strengths of our weakness, our edges honed

So radiate heat as your ethos flames
Retain a feral eye, be fluid, un-named
For you are the universe manifest, alive
And through your consciousness, spirit will thrive

To Be Or Not To Be, Is Never A Question

I am, I was, and I will always be

Though in this haze obscured, often hard to believe

For this cacophony of souls sometimes will drown or disguise

The animal crouching behind green eyes

To suggest that I have forgotten the blade

Or vows freely spoken in those empty glades

Is to belittle this heart I have chosen to save

All that I stand for, and all that I gave

Forged in fire, in flood.. in bliss

I am your thorn, your dream, your kiss

I am this person, an accumulation of time

I am freely yours, but I am always mine

Waiting It Out

IMG_1204

 

This miasma, foul air
Vapor from the shameless exhales of chatter
Pollute my lungs with every patient breath
Leaving a residential tar more cloying
Than this cigarette, or any other
Crutch I have leaned upon

In these eyes lurk a feral glow of savagery
Are you so blind that you would smooth my jagged shape with polish
Because I’m blurry about the edges, and ill-defined?

Do you think adjusting your gaze intently
Will alter the reality of my flesh and bone?

I will meet you here naked in the golden light of dawn
Bare, shameless in my possession of flesh
This moment is mine, immersed in solitude
Yet no walls defend my gratifying silence

I would welcome the song of two heart beats dancing
While this rain whispers “yes” to every denial
Opposing each fear you unwittingly buried
Or uttered with shame in that silence you covet

In Wine There Is Wisdom

Many believe spending time alone in thought, being introverted and analytical, is not only detrimental to society, but honestly uncomfortable to tolerate in most situations. Those loners who ponder far too deeply those seemingly ambiguous or unimportant observations, the ones who will draw the unwilling party animal into a philosophical conversation on the nature of wolf domestication and the eventual terrier that resulted, and whether or not this alteration of a species raises moral questions. That odd-ball who lurks quietly for hours before erupting in impassioned tirades about anything from melting ice caps to military sonar, is the one I mean.

Those people are precious to me when I encounter them, no matter how obscure or seemingly obsessed -In fact the more insistent and incongruous the better. Tesla, Galileo, Newton, Hook, Van Gogh, Poe, Arendt,Chomsky, Spinoza, Brezsney and so many others throughout time have stepped outside the well-heeled views of common perception to question and probe the very foundations of civilization, and in so doing, revealed truths great and small, both subtle and shattering. It is for this very reason that the insubordinate insurrectionists and idiosyncratic imbeciles were not wiped from our collective gene pool millenia ago.

Those who believe this universe is neatly ordered and logical are either ignorant or delusional. The closer one looks at the complexities of life and the so called “laws” that govern reality, the more disordered, illogical, and chaotic things become. String theory is a great example of this, however even that wild idea is losing ground to an even more left field hypothesis on the nature of (as Douglas Adams would say) life, the universe, and everything, which scientists are referring to as E8. I will include a link for any fellow nerds who want to go down that rabbit hole.

My point is that sometimes those things that make you uncomfortable, challenge your world view, confront your consious, shake your earth, rattle your cage, push you outside the consiously constructed confines of catatonia are crucial to internalizing this imense intelligence intimately… A person must be brave enough to swim head long into ignorance if they truly seek to learn anything new worth writing down. It requires the willingness to miss the mark, admit wrong doing or false leads, to embrace all that is unknown with insatiable curiosity.

I respect those who color outside the lines, for they are the ones who teach us to paint wordless obscurities, or lead us off a cliff to fly or die. Wings given to us by lunatics or luminaries have uplifted humankind since the first fires were lit on the red soil of Africa. Some few things I have learned in this convoluted lifetime, and one thing I know for certain: I would rather follow the passionate yet wayward mystic into poverty, than walk the stainless steel road of a calculating and logical politician.

This world is more pliable than we are led to believe, but cannot be shaped like malleable clay, and those who try to propagate order like monocultured corn rows will poison the ground so wild things cannot flourish.

 

 

Arise

Laying here saturated, wet with dew
As dawn lends your countenance a golden hue
In the mind’s eye glistens, a devious dream
As an animal in moonlight, they furtively gleam

Hunting, watchful, I am tasting the trail
Left by the passing of those who prevailed
Reaching for depths where others have drowned
Knowing it is in ignorance that knowledge is found

This universe is greater than one mind can hold
But I will grasp the stars if I learn to be bold
Fearlessness is for fools who don’t know of demons
Bravery is for the ones who face them with reason

My sword is a pen, my shield is a page
I will fight with love and never with rage
With a heart flayed open, eyes turned to the sky
One day my spirit will learn to fly