pregnant is my worry! many months
before it was born. the morning
sickness and swollen skin of my
mind and that of heart!
And finally that which was born
nothing more than fanthom
gestation!
:: 09-17-2017 ::
Monthly Archives: September 2017
PREGNANT IS MY WORRY
in vain we search truth
who knows? we greet the growing greens
each spring that grow.
loving how nature keeps life growing
and growing is many things for
every mind that seeks just a single
answer. It is the single mouth
hungry for truth.
These legs we walk upon are freeing
themselves when walking through
mysterious paths of greenry and
then, sometimes we find a nest
or fallen trunk o’ tree in front
of our path. Do we stop?
All a part of the mind.
But the heart which knows;
has taken the bark into its
mouth. And the mind endure.
It is how the tears of clouds
fall toward the skies below
it’s bent knees. And by due
exchange chemistry for love.
:: 09-15-2017 ::
WHEN WISHING WINDS WIN
wishing i knew.
i know nothing
but know
that i am
wishing this
something we
all know.
it with no name
but confines us
to the four walls
of this wishing
room of madness.
i sometimes know
this something
but it’s bigness
is larger than
all life.
And at this moment
of knowing what
it is that we all
are wishing i know
its beauty is more.
so wishing is more
than what we can
ever have when
wishing is something
bigger than us.
:: 09-15-2017 ::
THIS NIGHT THE WIND
this night the wind is speaking softly
to me as aloft as a feather never
touching the ground.
and my love is a distance away.
That love comes to me it comes
mainly at night; when night is
a determined Spirit as so Love.
So my love as we both endure
exhaust from growing emotions as
flowers from Spring and at times
flakes of brilliant snow in cold
moments it is your eternal
hands and heavenly fragance that
exceed all space and time.
It is we who desire to endure!
:: 09-15-2017 ::
A Poor Man’s Memory
a poor man’s memory. let us count his worth:
Memory: i lost my way within this world.
and i have pockets with nothing but holes.
but then night comes and something stranger
than life itself becomes me:
dreams.
then, within that terrible dream i can
purchase something and anything.
But it is poor.
because its worth is equated.
to money.
this is the poor man’s dream:
a dream based upon money.
Oh Lord allow me to dream
a dream where worth is based
on love.
love is priceless.
This is real. right.
okay. tonight i dream
of love.
and my pocket’s holes
become mended.
As so does my heart.
:: 09-14-2017 ::
C O N S U M E R D E A D
… and then every foot step becomes a monster.
and ‘me’ the simulacrum. it had no
matter where the legs took my theater:
my head-projector focused on the entities
around my case of skin.
I was the trapped. The epitome of
consumer in a strange twisted world
I once had known as home.
and then one day everything became
digital.
I died.
Reborn as the die-hard reluctant.
shopper || .. –>
C O N S U M E R
D E A D
:: 09-14-2017 ::
it is the fear i fear more than the dream
that the dream is a fear is not a fear i
should ever dream. i dream. nothing more?
POLITIKS AND DISEASE
AS everyone on one side of the party lines sang
the other were dead; and while everyone on the
other side of a party line died the other sang.
And this is how rot creeps within society;
to believe that beliefs are division.
that a whole can become fragmented by
philosophy and that one is evil over the other;
that in similar logic all separate parties are
in all insidious fact are evil.
And like the dead who have living bodies and
have become old through media saturation:
the magnificent mausoleum of a natural
world outside mourns the Children of God.
the tombstone of a moon.
the rosery beads of bloody tears.
And fear is King and the Queen a forgotten
truth we may never again remember.
:: 09-14-2017 ::
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 ::
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