Shell Game

 

 

 

Eggs drop – shards and viscous yuck.

A mess, better left unbroken;

walk softly, whisper, agree

to be agreeable.

Breakfasting on soggy cereal or

just a cuppa.

Smiling lamely through the

livelong day.

“Please don’t let me be a burden.

Please, allow me, walk upon my

crooked spinal stairway while

I carry your petty parcels

in my cracked, bleeding teeth.”

Eggshells break monthly

inside my womb.

But we don’t speak of that.

Not polite.  Not politic.

Like religion and horse races,

consuming addictions.

‘Cause we’re alright, ya know.

We’ve nothing to complain of.

Got our daily cakes and tea,

obeisance to some faith based Queen,

jolly good, jelly roll.

On Easter, in the blessing of Spring,

we paint sweet pastels

gently upon hard-boiled shells,

promise to be good little lambs.

The crust of the Earth

protects primeval fire and

gemstones.

Seed of the Sun

bears a glorious array of

multi-hued fruits

upon which we feast

for energy.

Part of this complete breakfast

rounded with an omelet

for growth and repair.

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Poems for Sale

 

 

 

Pimping to Main Street.

Boobs and balls for

me ma’ams and gents,

sweetly dipped in excrement

for your shocking awe;

packaged in plastic, curse

of dinosaur extinction.

Consumers of distinction

may choose leatherbound,

even snakeskin.

Aiming to please the crowds

who adore confusion

in profusion

as long as it makes them

look real fine.

I set myself a task

in childhood

to learn great secrets

unobscured by truth.

But what I learned was

shameful and so sad.

I understand why so few

would listen.

No clever, teasing entertainments

enrich my humble wares.

Pay a pretty penny dipped in heartache;

I will sing to you your native tongue.

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Paradigm of Death

 

 

 

Cut off within,

without connection.

“Why do I lie so alone, live

desolate?  Look at

what I’ve perfected,

coloring inside the lines

even when shocking pink

was the style.”

Longshoremen in early dawning

stench.  Dead fish.

Seagulls’ wet cry

forlorn. Sea entwined

with sky casts about

into brutal day.

In city gutters,

(homes hide those inside,

but out here)

rabid eyes, aching tense

grimy and sore

another and another cycle.

Cut down wretched bands that swell,

fester, invert pleasure,

ooze septic grind.

Laugh with angry spittle

into God’s eye,

hoping to be struck on this spot.

“No!” defiant “No excuses —

the service is lousy; no tip for

you scuttling scum.”

Echoes shatter through numbness,

erupt abruptly, seep through sleep,

settle into stones and weary sand.

“I told you!  Don’t disturb my grandiosity!”

Working, negotiating plans for

more effective extermination.

Organic stink, putrefying,

must be extinguished.

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perceptual shift

 

 

 

Ecstatic movement past revelation

from which there  is no return

to what you used to see

who you used to be

That ultimate step to transcend

eternity’s threshold,

wizard trick of the eye

Mind when it moves

so easily,

newly emitted

light belies

primeval storm,

primal fear, attacks

of unclear meaning

Reset

Eyes, now excited, aware,

reveal new landscape

Ready to venture,

map and design

this blazing trail

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Progress

 

 

 

Getch yer gimme

Pull that file! Collapse that case!

You are obsolete — unexistent

And ain’t no one gonna hire you in this industry.

Whatcha holding on to?

Whatcha going on to?

Whatcha gonna live for?

Got a score to settle while the dying’s cheap

Gonna find a rooftop and fire.

Gonna tap a neural gap and get higher.

Gonna hold a seance and retire.

Become a log a’rotting in the wood.

Enter eternity a nonfunctioning robot.

Captured in resistance, electronic impulses,

air tremors and interruptions in space.

We make no difference to a meteor —

any blind force that destroys without design.

We make no difference to our own kind.

Blind orgiastic miasma,

pressing, moaning, sucking in life.

Entropy.

Elegy.

Ontogeny.

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Mind Game

 

 

 

Mind can be more lonely

than body would imagine.

Mind can search for answers,

for questions,

for quests,

for endless conundrums,

and so enjoy the game.

Yet mind wants other minds

to play with,

to bring in ideas that surprise and excite.

It is spirit that knows to blend

and meld into all that is.

Yet spirit too can identify with

loneliness, as an essence, as a way to die

a little while caught

in the ecstasy of exquisite pain.

There must be a very important reason for loneliness.

There must be a wholeness of interconnection

that we truly need to attain.

I’ve been working the random universe

/intelligent design/mystical maya

one quite a bit lately. My conclusions are

sometimes random, highly emotive, itchy and veiled.

However, I had a revelation

about the dweller on the threshold

(a revelation to me at least).

It’s not about going over the threshold.

It’s about living that eternal magic

between the worlds and

enjoying the view from each side.

There may be a time when going onward

is appropriate; I don’t know.

First I have to build my home

on the threshold,

learn about living there,

learn who I am that I may have

myself as a trusted friend

on the continuing journey.

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Dimensionality

 

 

 

Out of the scope of words’

static definitions.

Immanent realms.

Indeterminate, all around/within

expansion. 

Configurations advance through

amorphous totality.

 

Travel a chosen light beam,

branching out into

another and another.

No time, no space, no box.

Unfolding.

Unlined.

Unreasoned.

Take a little trip with me.

Loose every adhesion.

Float, swim, tumble, spin.

Paint the image

Within your own frame.

Step back.  Enjoy the perspective.

Step back into the painting,

Strolling past the point

The eye has learned to see.

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I Am Geni

 

 

 

 

Imagine

I am geni

Lifting

a veil

between

endless time

and the boundaries

of the permitted.

 

Imagine

worlds unseen

craft them, weave them

create a design

a designation

to allow

ever new

images

comfortable access.

 

Imagine

an engine

of becoming.

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Re-creation at the End of the World

 

 

 

The end of the world as we have told ourselves is nigh:

Widening eyes align, focus to define shifted underpinnings,

first causes, metaphors, stories of us.

Disruption, distorted transition, fear and distrust

wildly galloping trample the field, cry out the call

“Just let me rest. Just let us lie here, ashamed, afraid

to allow such blinding disarray. So much safer

to fall, over the end of the world.”

Could we, softly, sanely, edit together heavenward pleas,

harmonize with birds, bees, thunder, settling sighs?

Meme-shattering symphony dilated eyes happy to see

bright patterns coalesce, myths reassessed,

zest of surprise?

Would we recreate deity as an image more amiably

embraced, Empathy for the 21st century?

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Uranian

 

 

 

Not the fire in the belly,

but the air in the lungs.

Clarity.

Fire warms, then burns in passion,

flaming shame, blame, conflagration

of sin and victory.

Buddha-like compassion,

saintly wise, learned in cycles

of conscious labor, blessed bliss —

messages like this mentored, memed,

given credence in electric market,

synapse scent, inhaled essence.

This is not a sketch.

This is awakening

from deep drudging entanglement

in eiderdown.

Memory march in hideous mime.

Despair hangs heavy, grey,

unbounded.

Changing course, textured currents,

slowed for inhalation, beckon,

wave, invite companionship.

Bubbles surface, break

like flowers expelling seeds.

Breathe the inspiration.

 

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