Daily Archives: September 14, 2017

CHILDREN REFRAIN AND GHOSTS TOO

THERE I have become a vanquished angel by
awakened eyes so dull by milky shade:
the moon gone before her majesty of Sun
and now morning bright! As ponderous
voices in hallways of books by lined
insecurities: the geese with stiff
necks and her baby followers: we
are everything we see and have been.

Sometimes by the back of wishes
and the promises of forward future:
we can become the better of ourselves
if only we forgive the many who know
us. And we sing like the gawling of cows.

THAT is every this and we cry completely
when we are collectively true: but
little children refrain and ghosts too.
The printed word is more secure
than the act of organic thought.
But love: of no equation
nor of linear true.
And consciousness as a jaguar
touching leaves and puma speeding
through branches of truth.
WE are the journey
WE are the love
WE are the Life
and we are the living.

:: 09-13-2017 ::


TWO PAWS CAT

WHEN as if –> time
that when no other
was this one: love
and that when I
as my mind thought;
this one.
That love is nothing
but more of time.
THAT memory —
of each other silly,
giggling and plainly
talking and making
love by innuendo
; that we were and
are and were and will
be everything that
is. Isn’t it all
that was wanted?
Yes. It is
the sky and tears
of rain falling
speaking secrets
that only we
have ever known.

Love.

two paws cat.

:: 09-13-2017 ::


SINCERELY WONK

SINCERELY WONK

if WE were seven foot shorter
and older:
if we began now instead
of then — when we were
all more simpler

what would and could we
change.
No question. But a statement
of fact.
Nothing.
So, best to know all?
or to be blinded by time?

Let us be happiest not knowing
the rules of these crazy gods!

 

:: 09-13-2017 ::


THE TASK MASTER

THERE is a wheel in the garden
a garden where roads have
traveled by love and tears.

There within the attic are
toys whereby children have
grown — grown to know how
to share and forgive enemies
who love the things they love.

And then there is the field
behind the house; where often
what has been said is no longer
remembered but still felt:

forgive you. Do you forgive
me for hating you when you said
what I cannot remember now?

Yes. A different time
but the heart always knows.

And time is the task master
that never forgets.

But then, we shall always
know.

:: 09-13-2017 ::


NOCTURNES BY MIDNIGHT

AND for every memory whose hands have touched
my hungry lonely moments; I am always here,
between laughter and weeping; singing and
shouting. Just today (which I realize is
everyday in eternity) I walked across a crack
that contained my soul; the sidewalk made of
gold. And while I write feeble words to express
emotions that are unobtainable the other more
whole piece of my heart is sleeping in a distant
land; a place where upon the grace of God
laid a golden egg that born my true peace and
happiness. Her love constructed my world
before she was born and before I knew her
human name. The indescribable has a song
and colors and feelings; the light between
swaying branches of a tree; the smell of a
new word; the touch of tender sight and
undying kisses from a breeze from nature.

Knows.

And we are the children yet to be born.
And some who are grown but dead children.
The unknown.

:: 09-13-2017 ::