Ritual

 

 

 

Ritual gives form to meaning

(every wiseman’s son doth know).

Every act from which we’re gleaning,

Every sack that we must sow

Gives rise to tides that make us wise;

Gives humor chance for binding wounds.

Does good these ancient weary eyes

To dance abandoned round the moon.

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Eclipse Scrying

 

 

 

 

 

Where’s the fun

in hiding in the eye

of the hurricane?

I want to be bodysurfing

the storm,

madly dancing in the rain,

cast off from restrictive form …

I want to taste sweet grapes

break crisply;

Embark on a journey of ecstasy

to be all I have

thought to be;

yet safely reside

in a place deep inside

away from the prying norm.

I want romance in the sense of

sensation inviting and free.

I want a chance to believe in magic.

And I want what I want to be

crazily in love with me.

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Knee Bends

 

 

 

 

 

I ask occluded river

“Where will your running take me?

What magic destiny can I claim?”

River seems to laugh:

“If it’s destiny, you have no say.”

Today I speak with rivers,

sing to trees as if a separate wind.

Imagine thoughts of birds a’ground,

flying from the sound my voice brings in

to their world.

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Green Magic

 

 

 

 

 

Ancient prototypes etched into collective retina.

Vast vegetation, expansive cure for distressed

neural cells.

Casting outward.  Hope for connection

to sacred ground, profoundly real.

Reborn to forest,

nurtured in nativity.

Green, deep healing green.

 

Fear is a thrill.

Rush anticipation of danger.

Piquant romance with what might kill or maim

or carry dread.

Warnings fill imploding head; adrenalin syncopates heart.

Fear, a crossroad to start from,

then taunting groves to hide behind.

Fear can dazzle, delay, explain years of wasted time.

 

Any sufficiently

advanced efficiency of

chemistry, natural

technology, exchange of toxic breath for

benign symbiotic ecology.

(No college degree could assure

so lush a life.)

So sad that we only see what we expect.

Trained to tragedy, to forget the best

that could be manifest.

 

Sagacious find a quiet relaxed pace.

Days drift and wander.

Daring to explore pleasure, infinite awareness.

Leisurely share what feels genial, good, light.

Engage.

 

 

sane endocrine bath

tranquil electricity

synapses smile

 

Happiness –

Captivatingly fleeting, unexpected as

coming upon a gorgeous serenity that abruptly halts

all complaint; enraptured —

so in love with this moment.

Vital we know, hold consciousness,

“It’s possible!”  This bliss experience.

Glorious, revels to carry through

lean days between.

More than possible, a commonality, even in response

to simple stimuli, gentle release

despite pervasive pestilence, terror,

boredom, defeat.

I want this for you, my close associate: to feel sheer presence

a joyful Wow!;

or how could I be

vicariously

happy?

 

 

Lazy Bella turns, laughs, waves:

“Enjoy the journey.”

Squanders hours, shamelessly

wanders unfazed.

 

Lazy Bella laughs, turns to wave:

“Enjoy your show.”

Squanders hours, brain wanders

focused on fun.

 

Lazy Lucy (in the sky) —

villain exemplified:

self-indulgent, stupefied, unreliable.

Can’t deny your lesser nature.

Only anti-establishmentarians deify ideals distasteful,

so wasteful of divine effulgence.

He desires us industrious, servile.

Less than full attendance reviled.  Why?

Abhor the concept of free ride.

Have you no pride?  Bugs beneath consideration.

Indigence defaults to sin, sad outcast.

 

Postulation: We need more laziness.

Too lazy to bother with evil.

Too lazy to interfere with people

being people.

Too lazy to prevaricate, shill for hate,

devastate innocent civilians

to elevate noblesse cause.

Too lazy to legislate excessive laws.

Too lazy to project self-flagellator flaws, to bother

to pretend to perfection.

Pleasant respect for nonproductive hours of blissful

reflection, extending perception,

delicious play under sun, merry rain, laughing clouds.

Praise laziness as ours.

No shame allowed.

Attention shift from factious plastic toys

to sensate enjoyment.

 

 

value exchange

first level rewards

encouragement, applause

celebration, recreation

respectful regard

creative collaboration

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Serenade

 

 

 

 

In my jewel-encrusted cage, two songbirds sing, but not in harmony.

Solemn dirges and shrieking accusations

keep me from sleep or silent contemplation.

Why not let them fly free?

They will not leave.

They know not how to live out of captivity,

in a land of icy stares and treeless streets.

They shriek and cry, and I, I know no solace for we three.

We feed on stale crusts, dipped in champagne

so bubbly.

There’s not much else to say.

In these sleepless hours

I learn new dancesteps

timed to familiar refrains.

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We Didn’t Know

 

 

 

 

 

Efficient development requires deprivement.

No profit, no playground to feel alive in.

Those few groomed for career cheer, mocking:

“Can’t you hear; that’s freedom knocking.”

“Work for rent, or stay in school, dude.”

You get no cake for being a loser.

Orwell warned “Big Brother is watching.”

We didn’t know he meant on you-tube.

 

We didn’t know our life was a crime.

Sentenced from birth to pay all our time.

Cast from the truck to the roadside to rot.

Shamed outside of luck, all about what you’re not.

Media screams boost revealed truth feud.

Sell corporate garbage labeled food.

Orwell warned; we were warned:

“The best of you will be co-opted.”

We didn’t know they meant on you-tube.

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Drumming in a Different Circle

 

 

 

 

Limbs, core, Limbic awareness

Drums of my circle clutch tight; shared stories illumine night,

chant rhythm through my day, embrace of safe vibration.

 

Aid to meditation, listen in.

 

Beneath my skin, blood flows to jungle’s beat.

Quantum entangling dance,

essence, embodied trance steeped in tribal code.

 

Soft setting Sun; I sidle along dusk shaded street.

Terrified I might meet circles a’sway to chaotic drums.

Violent charismatic voices,

disciples of variant choices.  Not kind.  Not my kind.

 

On sojourns alone, rhythm revives convivial song.

Sound connection with ground entrained to

cadence of home.

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Endorphin Joy Ride

 

 

 

Let us speak of love,

of dear enthralled enchantment.

Ecstatic rush that drugs wish they could bring.

Mood’s choral turns to Spring.

That special lethargy that poets faux affect,

reflective as a silver pool.

We like the love that lets us play the fool,

exudes good humor, respite from

sober shame of longing heart.

That flame, that spark that arts

wish power to capture,

that rapture.

Tongues entwined in love, we speak

outside of language,

languid

breaths of bliss.

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Gaea: A Ritual Performance

It’s really a simple story. Beings find planet. Beings treat planet badly. Planet goes about her business.

Beings start to realize that they need planet, and had best learn to make friends rather than futilely keeping up enmity.

 

 

Gaea: A Ritual Performance

 

 

layers of imagery, music, tribal drums, futuristic dreams

 

 

Gaea was there, in the beginning. Gaea was all. Gaea was wise.

How could we not have seen, in the blindness of pride, of avarice,

of service pledged to false gods?

 

The journey was long.

The journey was harsh.

The journey was lonely.

 

Asleep in a box with wilderness dreams.

Or awake on the watch, wondering what was to come.

 

Thus it was those false gods bespake us:

Out of the cold vastness of desolate space,

out of base fear over years seeped in to overtake us,

out of a need to deem our fate Someone else’s scheme,

out of a need to believe all would be well for our kind.

 

Our world was dying.

We did what we could to survive.

Survival we find

an appropriate end

to any means.

Survival will give us

the time we need

to find a better way

to survive.

 

The bravest of us,

the proudest of us,

the meanest of us,

would not allow us to die.

We took off in our ship with the barest of plans

 

to find another land

where our kind could live …

expand.

 

Now,

hybrid children evolved

from refugees

fleeing a hostile star,

Skygods and Earth Mother of ancient lore.

 

When will we relinquish hubris, ruinous hatred,

accept Gaea as partner and home?

Build strength of unity so all may thrive?

 

The land, when we found her was warm and inviting.

We felt safe, supported, encouraged to grow.

 

We ate of her fruit, fish, herds.

We built with her trees, stone and clay.

We drank from her beautiful streams

which we soiled with our waste.

Gaea was saviour and womb.

We repaid her with rape.

 

We didn’t understand,

thought her merely land,

thought ourselves masters from afar.

 

Gaea sent storms to bring us to our senses, wild winds and seas.

 

Gaea tried to shake us off: Earthquakes, Floods, Famine, Plagues

sending us scattering into hiding,

intermingling with her primates, Gaea’s ape children.

Without question or shame, we murdered what we could not steal.

Without honor or remorse, we laid waste to our host,

to our adopted home,

then cursed her for not giving more.

 

By accident or design, chimera adapting to nature’s marketplace,

creating stories to redefine our origins from outer space.

We lied to our halfling children, denigrated their Gaean kin,

twisted their virtues into a false concept we called “sin.”

 

What Gaea did to us? Cruel, evil, in need of the whip.

We seal over her bounty

into mad parody of Mother Ship.

Unforgiving of the mess of living, the miracles of life.

In ignorant pride we gave ourselves law to decide

propriety over fate,

turning

in our minds

mother love

into a mirror of hate.

 

Frozen in fear and rage, children swept out in the storm,

trapped in a self-made cage we had hoped to protect us from harm.

 

Gaea, we cry, why do you treat us so angrily?

What will it take for us to wake up and see it is we who are wrong?

To hear and be aware of Gaea’s song singing in our blood?

To learn the cycles, the seasons,

the reasons for fire, wind and flood?

 

To redefine our race,

to find out that our place is here among our Gaean kin?

 

The telling of new tale must begin.

 

Gaea opens to sunshine to ease our agitation.

Easy winds, breezy gush of summer rain.

Feeding the greedy young grains,

growing along the plains, the flowers of the storm.

Feeding the beasts of the field,

celebrating the cycle, as all is revealed.

 

Love is the web,

craftily spun by great mother spider,

Gaea’s familiar,

weaving magestic grace

no longer concealed. It was never our place

to control, nor others’ to steal.

 

Gaea creates in intricate arrangements,

feeding us all of us all, a transformative stew.

So much energy wasted; painful lies to find our way through.

New beliefs, guiding stories to provide for, enthuse

children, reaching out to become and be free,

embrace our destin,

as Gaea’s beloved.

 

Arising in the circle, giving voice to release pain —

grateful to Gaea’s grace, dancing in her cleansing rain,

we sing, rejoice, united:

 

It would be so nice (paradise)

You and I

Floating in the sunlight

Ready to break free

To be

Exactly who we are

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Earth Angels

 

 

 

Speciesism.

That boorish arrogance.

Deaf to wisdom, portrayed in

ominous myth, faery lore.

Slay the goose;

destroy the whales.

Uproot untold trees

bearing fruits that may have

saved us staggering pain.

Crucial for well-being

microbes, photosynthesis,

symbiotic

processes ignored, misunderstood.

Focus expended on ephemeral

opinion, petty greeds and rivalries,

diatribes on evil and good.

Realities we have yet to account to,

acknowledge,

fall, collateral damage

to insolent bravado.

When will we ever let go,

rethink this mad master plan,

relinquish need to command?

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