Faith Healers

No doubt, excellent penance must be paid.

Life is debt.

Always more to need pulls forward

out of dusty cracked ground to quiet thirst.

We are not last, or first, nor most grieved,

most grievous.

Another litter along this trail of fools.

As if ever more stringent rules,

admonitions of flame and infamy,

could slake or set us free.

Comic cosmic tragedy, carried

through descendants

begrudged, pre-judged, caught up pre-aware

in dismal prophecy catechized by

bumbling attendants.

Future’s fettered face: shake faith in

reckless disregard for creation.

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Waxing

Big, fat, buttery Moon.

Baby’s face in the sky.

Tell me why you cry

fat buttery woe.

* 

Does powerful Mars threaten from

so far below?  Ready to hide behind rooftops,

fade down to the safety of setting

of settling.

Like so many men I’ve known.

Where is fierce pride, independence?

Why is the best we expect

repentance, regret and remorse?

How let go call to challenge foretold

in the cards of romantic youth,

to become just a stagnant pawn?

When we reconcile alone,

can reflected virtue

keep us warm?

Who are you, fool Moon, to cry like

a brat in the night?

No Solar solace — pity-filled

lesser light. 

Moon falls out of my sight.

I’ve no stomach for dawn.

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Living Theatre

Another day in the box waiting for nightfall. 

That is when caged siren sings, mournfully, hauntingly. 

This is where our stage play starts. 

Take the ride your tethered mind could never allow.

We have met the enemy, for they are us, just one shadow away.

 *

Human newborn imbued with alien soul. 

Where the human soul is taken, if it survives, who knows?

 *

She screams for her child.  Deeply under sedation,

it is but hallucination.  No one hears her.  None understand

why she insists this child is not hers.

 *

After months of constant reinforcement, she accepts.

This child is her own.  The child, not so clearly

subject to social norms, cannot accept this mam,

or for that matter, this sham society, as its rightful place.

* 

Pitched sweep of surreal pageantry,

fantastic yet detailed with lucidity,

captured from halls of enchanted lamps

begging to enlighten.

* 

Today is about

yes

pure bright reds

unblended.

Fruit of Eden

to carry in sultry saddlebags

for sustenance in high desert.

 *

Ride the current.

Breathe the moment.

Embody radiant energies

streaming live.

 *

Impeccable action is full and complete defense.

To embrace vast edgeless awareness.

To love exuberant outrageous self

is reward and salvation.

 *

That small flickering insistence

finds smolder of resource within

to make another plan

when broken path

has been obscured

or destroyed.

 *

Children desiccated,

forgotten flowers on

fields of war.

 *

Where does loathing fear originate?

Why do we insist on a myth of childhood bliss

when growth grapples intertwined in plight?

Drive to acclimate: 

decide whose got the might that makes them right,

how to win favorable gaze — who to hail;

who to hate.

* 

Grief, anxiety, any emotional signal prized as such.

Instead of fight or flee, impulse to ask emergent feeling:

what have you come to advise?

Often telling stories rise distilled from ambient well of

hostility.

Journeying around the realm of bliss does not deny experience

from other sources.  It helps to clarify lines, strings, coloration

outside of fraudulent choice to kill or be killed.

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Epic Rendition

No harder than

day to day futility,

watching burning death,

build up of

wanton fury.

Ablaze wide and high —

uncertain edges, excessive

damage.

Neverland’s adventurous

play ever more crazed, savage.

Treasure map plots out a way

from here to there.

Daring plan around

the fiercest dragon,

most evil King.

No leverage to stop Pan from sinking

when rowdy crowds laugh derisively,

cheer for fear.  No end

to entitled complaint

that grants no faith

for potent wizardry.

The hard part is knowing alone.

Cursed with responsibility

of imminent calamity,

hearing hosannas,

hallelujahs of inevitability.

Wretched wrench into wherever

explosion expends.

Intent on bold leap, why not act wisely?

Hold as given sight’s highest possibility

to re-write the real.

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Parturition

Under the world tree

among ancient roots in deepest earth

awaiting destiny,

awaiting birth.

Up through layers of confusion,

journey beyond safe edge

of expectations.

Awakening impulses, insecurities,

grit of centuries acquired this long,

tedious way.

Endless feeding,

dead to be upon dead.

Creeping upward

constrained only by blindness,

silt covered space,

inexorable mutation.

Metabolized waste

builds, remains.

Brilliant day, approachable moment,

intended emergency

(light bolts zip-zap

from above).

Arrive into future’s story,

creating not destiny

but integrity’s

destination.

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Self Starter

Private self-reflection.

Mirror face inward.

Outer surface shined opaque.

No need to name or count competition.

Pent up fury intent to procure sparkling prize.

Pinnacle of perfection?

Fleeting fame in blazoned storm immolation?

Entrained to innovative wars for fortune?

Certainly not love, nor deep affection.

That would require submission.

Bold inception desires exception, prized

esteem of recognition.

All roads entwined,

all of ever flows into and from

this start.

Day of decision: morning sunshine

burns off fog.

Glistening sky and the luxury

of self-companionship.

Ready, take aim, begin.

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verbeing

Surfing outpoured strangers’ inspiration,

I heard: we not what we do.

Untrue of course. We are exactly as we behave;

we are our verbs.

I am yawning, waking, reaching, taking,

always performing, even sleeping.

I am assimilating or decaying, refuting, praying,

imploring silently or rudely

speaking, yelling, crying, explaining, excreting.

Motionless in pure spiritual beatitude, I am

transcendently blissing, breathing, flowing,

submitting. We all are, every living instant.

Nouns with their adjectives merely set a stage.

Acting verbs express each changing essence.

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Sprung

An outage pan-expansive is Spring.

Back to primeval woods, planting fields.

Sprite quickening fling. Kicking up heels.

Miles from insider’s agitprop ranting,

wringing soppy run-off

to extend discomfort.

Fresh scents revive reason’s libertine.

 *

Anxious remnants of winters.

Layered ice savagery,

frozen bleak hellstorms, sharp hail regret.

Chilled miserable, sludge wet, relentless.

Yet, hear adventure recall tribes to revelry.

chase lead of Sun’s bright, warm exchange.

Ignite past’s battles, burn discord as energy.

Surge ahead. Explore new forays toward

merry meeting.

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Extricate

Voices echo from sad shadows.

I never know how to answer.

Vapid leering faces

cheer, jeer, beg for spectacle.

I dare not show fear.

Held firm by my lacerated arms,

chest tightly composed.

Stifled tears drip through,

stain like blood. 

A lonely infant cries in the night,

learning to be human.

* 

Let go.

Drift within caress of beauty.

Delete stress.  Feel flesh breathe,

bone heal.

I allow, attend

to effervescent imagery.

Shimmery waves of

sound, light, smell, texture

surround, define essence.

I allow

in clarity, in surrender.

Bursting through

stalled stale chrysalis,

arrival on spheres

ecstatic.

All answers released through

exuberant beating

of new fledged wings.

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Real World

Tragedy

endless young lives destroyed

by misconstructions of reality

— wars of all sizes.

To rise above,

to appear so large that wanton destroyers

must listen,

must stop and hear and understand.

Empowered creation

is so much more glorious,

salubrious,

smile uplifting.

Spiritual love is not about hearts and flowers,

submission to weakness.

Breath of pure air,

quench of clean water,

luscious, wholesome nourishment.

But mostly

love is about learning from each other

how humanity could grow.

I know that hatred surge of feeling securely

strong and right.

Bitter warmth on cold and lonely

watches,

solace through silent, empty nights.

Hatred comes easily to the spurned,

the deeply wounded

dying to emasculate shame of pain.

But true love is promise,

the hope of healing,

if only we commit harmony, to move,

oh so bravely,

through layered corridors of

defensive weapons.

Arm outstretch of acceptance,

interwoven positive regard.

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