Tag Archives: #living

THE WORLD SMELLED OF BURNING HOPE

FOLDED are the burnt angelic wings, my last heavenly fight where all celestial beings bled golden blood, and afterward all wines flowed.

Today i pour thankfulness and tears into a chalice older than the rocks i sit upon.

How temporal beings unknowingly acting out the last drama above their heads.

Entrusted sacred Heart i have armed against injustice.

The stage hand chooses the curtain’s openings and closings.

Watching as i remove cosmic dust from my brow many living and nonliving things around me perish.  Enough!  To manage erasure of hope I nakedly rode the wild beast’s silent leap to perish all joy.

Hiding behind human skin, how admired and hated.  One of love one of scorn.  Alone, broken,
poor, destituded within a face not living but dead they do not ever see.  A poet once said,
“they won’t kill you any more than if you were a corpse.’

History of incredible folly.  A mind uniquely landscaped by the cosmic bang  i destroy all
understanding of word and stanza, painted the color of vowels!  A beauty, E quisite, I loved, O  you, U nless i am a dreamer dreaming me.  

While on the descent I caught a glimpse of…

It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen, that moment, when not one but two young stars were drawn to the wall like bees to honey.

I smiled like a sunrise.

Sunrise gazed upon a face, one that so many have marveled at for centuries, yet never had time to record in books.

The face was hers.

The one who personifies the poetic tradition of her order.

I exhaled so deeply it seared the porcelain lining of my lungs.

She laughed but it was not the melancholy laugh of a deity preparing for the next incarnation.

It was in pure joy at being behind human skin, how admired and hated. One of love one of scorn. Alone, broken, poor, destituded within a face Ania dedicated me to the Only One i know.

This is the ring she gave me, a pale, pearl – like, peridot teardrop.

Uncle gave it to her.

I bought it to represent the rare beauty of a most human and human – made treasure.

“The closest thing to appearing as an angel.”

— Lauren Bacall Having an epiphany one day from ‘surrendering’ to a divine being, I looked up and saw a perfectly formed blonde woman wearing a white dress sitting on the soft, green grass right in front of me. The woman held my daughter’s blue stuffed bear as if it were an actual person.

She told me to take this bear and I would never need another one.

I knew she was absolutely correct.

I put the bear in my pocket

I held it kneeling at the Comerica Pavilion.

:: 01.01.2022 ::


MORTICIAN MAKEUP

she wore
mortician’s
makeup above
the once
breathing
pores || i died
once,twice &
more ||then buried
was she within a
barren field of
nothing more.

:: 07.12.2020 ::


P O E T S

DO you have a quiet place
deeply dear, within The No
One can enter here spot?
Me too. I keep it near
the love of YOU.
(and there the brightness
of sweet peace)
all as nature knows
is best and & i eyes
know knew now yes live
yes we LIVE
(the masters of skillfully
curved romantics called

P O E T S.

:: 02-08-2019 ::


with THIN fingers

WITH thin fingers
(my love) who knows
worlds of than great;
a summer’s glint
more as eyes, love
as a disguise unknown
were victories nameless
beside their glories

Stood cold so damp
memories of
or
goldenly floating
inside my youth i
sang dreams penetrating
space over time
washed away all glint
of light within my mind

Well, we dare — escaping
alive silentness gods
to kiss “most beautiful
o most beautiful” hearts
her, my life, as liars
kill their kind.

:: 01-24-2019 ::


CAROUSEL

AS they fall

gently fall

From high tree

to ground

are dreams

as leaves

A season

to believe

The world!

a carnival

As we upon

a carousel

We dream upon

a merry-go-round!

:: 01-17-2018 ::


EAT THE SUN

i see the tower of impeccable love
mystics have played there before
and my bleeding heart too,
by the creek of golden waters
And my soul soaking love
my love by the sun: our hearts
eating light.

I have seen the history
of enchantment so many years ago
the numbers too large; too large
but not by love or the sun.
Too — like when hope is torn apart
and all that is realized is by
the sun we eat in part.

One by one so together; two
by different parts and legends
for good sake: we are loved
by the Sun!

Spirit! above flesh! The forgiveness
by goodness’ sake! Love is forever
and kindness for human’s-sake |

Let kindness be the wise visitor
Allow wisdom into your heart;
to be so secured is all the wisdom.
All of the good and to believe in
the good of man.

All of the good within this universe.

 

:: 11-22-2017 ::

 


Don’t You Dare You Can’t Catch Me

 

the light is coming beyond a morning’s curve
expectations of a day with hours
and i don’t know oh where does it go?
pennies falling within a funnel
minds too and love for fools

Time a piece of Meringue pie
baked in an oven ; a large glass
or metal bowl
as the world asks, ‘where does
time go?’

While walking down a street
(don’t you dare you can’t catch me)
the weak lie crossing the road
a hole within my sole reaching out
to the lost one’s within the cracks

The cobbler has his awl and knows
space has it’s mistress ‘time’
and we know how that goes

Don’t you dare you cannot feel me
anymore
Don’t you dare you cannot look
for me anymore
Don’t you dare you can’t catch me.

:: 10-04-2017 ::


LOST WITHIN LOST WITHOUT

TODAY a clearing within my Thoughts
that i tried to catch.
As though my Mind took leave
and left my heart upon the floor
for all to see!

Yesterday’s sheltered within a memory
and the Soul; if it just passed by
without a care would it leave the
skin behind?

Bills, weather, cars and jobs
traffic, bombs, murders and all;
that’s a bit too odd!

And the dark shadows around the corner
the walls too thin to keep the ghosts
away
Dear God! the tears and faithful moments
dancing around the graves still unfilled
but always wet and cold.

:: 03-11-2017 ::


THE TIP OF MY FINGER

I could believe:
when yellow lights melt
traffic in greenly built
pastures of social need
I would be relieved:
if hearts and minds
were synched for love
instead of personal need
I should conceive:
the mountain of God
is the tip of my finger

and I point towards the sky
making all things good!

:: 12-04-2014 ::


TIME’S PASSION

How long
can a dove’s
feather survive
within a furnace
and what of
that first kiss
ever
does it still
press upon your
lips
what love exists
if not in time
forever imprinted
upon the heart
and if time ceased
would all love
cascade down
into your velvet
pocket of passion
and would slender
fingers nimbly touch
the lost love
of time’s passing
passion — never dies

:: 04-22-2014 ::