Monday, June 30, 2008

Ever












That the eye should see,
That the tongue should taste,
That the soul should be,
And life be such waste.
Perplexes the aware,
Lost in blank stare.

That the heart should break,
That the penitent should shake,
That the old should die,
And the young should cry.
Awakens from slumber,
To be ever humbler.

That fire burns the stars,
That endless cosmos be ours,
That breath should follow breath,
And we all fear our death.
A sweet wondering why,
Endless bittersweet sigh.
Ever.

Intertwined


















In every breath, a world of death,
Within each breeze, are the histories,
Of countless lives, of endless strifes,
Every particle plays, infinity of days,
The story.

Every falling star, rumors eternal wars,
A lovely — chaos dance, design or mere chance?
Endless thread unbroken, each life but a token,
Universe within universe, within blessing or curse,
The plot.

Protons, neutrons, electrons, travel across the eons,
Now a nebulae, now a breath, now a birth, now a death,
Same stuff as the stars, their fiery dreams are ours,
Matrix of matter and Spirit, we love it and we fear it,
The prose.

Every human birth, preludes the pain of earth,
Every human life, lived upon the edge of knife.
Sibling to the galaxies, beloved upon our knees,
Loves, stories, dreams; the light within us gleams.
The Crescendo.

Unfathomable













 Chaos, beauty, terror unfathomable,
Birthing pools of life upon the shore,
Micro ecosystem, once so amicable,
Swallowed by the tide and are no more.
No more.

Churning waters consume quiet coasts,
Drawn by a distant luminous sphere,
Just as sudden, retreats as a ghost,
Just beyond, yet still so near.
So near.

Terrible beauty with monstrous ways,
Hungrily gobbling continents, species, ages,
Relentless — both retreats and pursues it's prey,
Then unleashed and bursting from it's cage.
From it's cage.

Then a hell-fury of blinded rage,
Strips the land and sea of it's stories.
Roar of wind, claw of sea — drench with sorrow,
'Till spent and retiring to quiet energies,
To quiet energies.

Then mournful it laps with a tender kiss,
The shores that broke apart the fury.
Now resume the gifts of life and bliss,
In a blatant, lovely, edenic hypocrisy.
Edenic hypocrisy.

The sea.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Lovely Lonely Boy


An inner logic all his own,
Non sequitur, non conforming soul,
An eye that wonders at all that's shown,
A stumbling, wobbly, gentle foal.

The lonely lovely boy walks slow,
Where communion emerges in pollen's dance,
In a garden where words and phrases grow,
A solitaire beat leads his feet to prance.

Deepening consciousness, deepening divide,
See him ride a shooting star,
The lonely lovely boy does hide,
Escaping within, to world's afar.

Infectious love to calloused hearts,
He reaches through ponds of refracting light,
While longing for love, he stands apart,
Eyes pining for day in the dark of night.

The lonely lovely boy has grown,
Into a young man, hungry for union.
He knows a pain uniquely his own,
Eyes unopened to sweetest communion.

Looking puzzled through his happy places,
Wanting as all do — the human end,
Within he sails in outer spaces,
Longing to find, and be a friend.

My lovely, lonely boy!

Allures














Nature beckons with quiet clues,
Enticing beast and plant with subtle hues,
Or smells, or sights, or inner drives,
Ordering the pattern of myriad lives,
And deaths, and lives once more.

The bee is drawn to roses' red,
The rose — a tart — it's pollen shed,
Upon the breeze, or shifting air,
Connive the thieves within their lair,
Flower and insect in grand encore.

And creatures strive to play along,
The eating, breathing, yeah mating throng,
Lovely and terrible, in tooth and claw,
In living, in dying, in holy awe,
From ground below, to distant shore.

And when life's force is sorely spent,
Nature reclaims what she has lent,
To beast, or plant, woman or man,
Proteins, minerals, consumed by land,
For to be leased out once more.

The story's written within our genes,
Our loves and hates, and every scene,
In birth, in love, in passion's ways,
So compelled are we in all our days,
It is as was, as ever before.