Shards of Verse

To the Endurance of Dandelions: Freedom

2005-06-28T14:14:00.000-07:00

Random Poems written in
Spring of 1999. On line to lovers, friends, soul mates and children.

1.
Wind winnows hair
Walking, breathing, laughing, free
This, the best of what can be.
Tasting, touching, loving, glad
This the best that can be had.

Winnowing through idle truths
To find the glow of lies rebuke
Gleaning rapture from a song
That languishes but melts along

The odor of a new fledged-rose
Kisses me and so my nose
These, the pleasures born of life
Are sure pledges of joys height.

This, a poem for you writ.
A sure device to please my wit.

2.
When?
I enjoy the dappling of light
The speaks of clouds and close-capped nights

I enjoy the water, blessing skin
That invites me into magic whens.

I enjoy the semblance of dawn
That first mocked light that lingers on

I enjoy the feathered brush
of fingers which, speaking, say so much.

These, a few of life's rare jewels
given me for joy's renewals.

3.
Written to Hunscher and never sent
Spun thought
Golden threads of light
Revealing mind-borne flight
Into realms of what can be and can be not.

Silken touch
Velvet glances filled with love
Which sharing values prove
To mean so much and more than such.

Cradled forms
Lifted into worlds of wonder
Raised by fantasy to ponder
Intimacy made magic, lightly worn.

Filled with anticipation
I resonate in celebration.
Gladness warmed

4.
In Response to Ayn's artless question
Older than the staff of Time
Older than the deadest crimes
Older, yet than hallowed thought
Older than the shadows caught
In rune-born eddies of life's dawn
Older than sweet Hera's song.

Old before the ancient touch of grace
Left its dew on Eve's embrace.

This, the answer, wrot by me,
given, dear that you might see.

5.
Ted Ditty
The Kaballah speaks with ancient tongue
Of esoteric ransoms won
But in deeds and thoughts now lost in night
The face of God still hides from sight

6.
Magic voles cannot be eat
By any of the cattery.
For the cats, sweet furry things
Have not claws and fangish rings

7.
No such emotions touch my heart
Button pushing my sheer delight
The voles are magic, glad to start
The engine of my smiled sight.

No, the source of this disease
Is someplace else, you merely tease.

8.
Forget Not Yet

Forget not yet that touches burn
And rapture sings from deep in bones
Forget the never found release
Of loving that extinguished peace

Forget the magic of delight
That found, is lost in thin stretched sight?
Forget that laughter fractures ease
That still regard must surely please

My memory might not regard
Tactile pleasing well loved shards
But this I know in measure full
The taste of love can make us whole.

9.
Vestigial thoughts of unseen psalms
Touch us when the nights grow long
Reminding the inner mind of truths
That linger on the words of Ruth

Savants tremble to remain
Alive to what is also sane.

10.
Predator and prey are one
A single flesh, a single thought
Born from pulsing of one sun
They consume in strife and not

The anguished need to live and breed
Granted them and thus time freed.

11.
Passions unacknowleged, strident words and life's fast curves
These, the stuff becoming, in the chuming must occur.

Falling into error lends the life to the bewarer
Holding back from living, yawns the grave of no beginning.

12.
Glances bond us, untouched kiss
Summoning the hope of bliss
Found within another's mind
When they are with us so inclined.

Glances bond us fast in need
This, the life from which we feed.

Candles carry waxen thoughts
that stem the ravishment not sought
Their light affirms our given word
Reflected in those prayers not heard.

13.
I walk in and you walk out,
Early morning, fogged with doubt
Here in haloed screen and toward
The moument of mindful words

You walk out and I walk in
A sad displacment for two friends.

14.
On the Midnight side of life
The roiled ripples tipple tongues
And vanish in the cloudless sight
Of failing dreams not yet begun

On the Midnight side of life
Laughter grows both sharp and quick
That its armoured wall might cancel strife
And deflate our raptures with a prick

Of unreal vanquishment and pride
For in that place the desperate hide.

15.
Little words give light to heart
Love is a nice place to start.
Love blends fractal, scattered schemes
And cherishes the source of dreams.

16,
Cyberhugs are made of light
Transcending time and space and sight
These unexpected, warping motes
Give us laughter, though remote
Along with pause and thought and note
That our emotions can also vote.

17.
The Oldest Dance
Enchanting thoughts of ancient dance
Moving. pulsing, stirring, felt
This the sorrowed, time borne flight
That Circe played while others knelt

Dance remembered, dance improved
Dance resembling our moods
Dance sublime and also mirthed
Falling laughter given birth

This the dance that can't be won
The serious dance that life begun.

18.
DANCING
I dance the dream of time warped flight
And learn the balanced touch of ease
That carries me in motioned thought
To places that I know will please

For dance is balance, body, mind
Joined to capture what is sublime

18.
Arrows flight
I touch the thought of mind's devise
I scamper in uncharted lands
To taste the things not seen with eyes
And walk uncharted, new-made sands

This, the arrow set in flight
That turns back the gloaming night.

19.
Stars that shine with self-made light
Glowing into promised thought
In the mind or in the sky
Still they lend our spirits hope

Candles coddle eyes and ease
Spirits lessons surely please

20.
Interrupted interloper
Riven thought and rightly drained
Poetic intervention that allows me to be sane.

21.
Vanished, gone without a trace
None can find his witty face
They didn't think to check the tub
Where he is lurking, going "glub."

Practicing his scrubbing ways
Hoping to fulfill his days.

22.
Unwoven thought, unmade dreams
Eyes that see too much for peace
child play creates the place, streams
And meadows, beckon ease

Still the mind in sweet unrest
Build a clime of tenderness
From this mote of emptied thought
Dance and so deny you're not

On ships in shadows, bathed in light
Balanced, poised in mind made sight.

23.
The fickle wind flows hot and cold
Raging storm and languid, curling, tickled flow
Of thought warmed air that ebbs and shows
The beasts and humans in its way
The fragile side of life lit days
Replete with promised, fragrant ties
Composed of laughter, hope and lies.

The, the gentling winds of time
Fickle winds, which hold designs.

24.
Live deeply.
Laughing should be as soul searing as tears
and our tears should banish both hope
and untimely surrender to the hazards of life.
Live completely,
touch with your mind all that is.

25.
Written for Ted, March 25, 1999 in response to doggerel he sent. Fun!
It rains, it pours, the sheeting storm
Reproves the fates and I curl, warm,
into the comfort of my bed
This a thing that glads my head.

IQs so low they shock, appall
But turn men off?
No, not at all.
A rare man, yes, wants brains in love
But most, prefer bland, brainless doves
To murmur, yes, and more, and now
Nymphotic fantasies endowed
With sizes "D", and brains well cowed.

26.
Never do I squeeze the fruit
When I shop, and touch and look
I only stroke to judge it ripe
Ready to carry home and bite

27.
Giving is a wondrous thing
Gladness making, slaking, keen
To multiply the joy on Earth
Goddesses gave life through birth.

28.
Nature's Law misunderstood
Cycles, dancing, all are good
Living within vested thought
This, the law, most oft forgot.

29.
You play, and warp in song wrapped thought
This, patinaed, flail you wrought
To idle in the halls of time
Finding raptures, pure, sublime.

30.
Y2k cannot reprove
When your actions must improve.
Knees, remember, hearts take hold
Savor then, this touch of gold.

31.
Boswell, languished, fenced and strode
Among those giants, lightly known
Who spoke the silvered truth of time
Fraught with magic, warping, mined

Through years unfurled into today
With winsome messages delayed.

We see, we touch, yet fail to know
The things that only time can show.
In time all things will be displayed
This the truth that might dismay.

32.
There is no death, no shadowed place,
where, extinguished, souls cannot be traced
By the long, fond folds of tender time,
finding them, in place sublime.

She sheds the certainty of needs
Known and harbored, made her free
To incite new thoughts, new paths of mind
Shattered patterns, build new kinds.

Love remakes us, renewed and whole
And captures every moment, owned
That melts into the promised hopes
Enlarging every part and scope.

33.
Lollipops of sugared thought
Which rapture tongue and havoc wrought
On furnishings, the least sublime
In meltings of the icky kind

Smell of newness, soon worn off
Crisp, taut odor forbidden thoughts
Dustballs in the unplaces move
In eddied currents, which reprove

When play could tease, consume our thoughts
The slightest follies, discovered, taught
The newest naughtiness we learned
To use again, each in our turn.

Licking on the self-same pop
The last lick wins the thinnest drop

34.
Tanya is happy, yes,
Unthreatened by the snarling car
Untroubled by things as they are
Untouched by raptured, Cosmo's dreams
Unrequited, and unseen

Glad to be your closest friend
And know the you that fancy sends
On trips of commentaried thought
Into what is, or is not.

Abra stashes quick killed prey
In the places that dismay
Pouncing on the motes of mind
That reflect your state of mind
Claws, a tremble to taste heat

35.
Spinning words, iconic tunes
Wrought in fractious, mind made runes
Delights which sizzle, light and smile
The sure rewards that must beguile.

Share this pass time, yes we do
Silly savants, telling trues

Makes us merry, makes us laugh
To jiggle, wiggle, tickle, craft
Wording pictures which take flight
To the mind ward sides delights

Words, the symbols, forged by thought
Weave and wander in the mind
Imprinting us, by what we wrought
To passions shallow and sublime.

We share this game, in cyber-time
Linking us through worded signs.

36.
Children's play, a serious thing
Tracing what the world will be
When time, the metronome of age
Informs the child in living's wage

Forever is a long, long view
Moments strung in long lines though
The past to present, future scenes
That when detected are still unseen

The mastodons of ages past
Trampled only when we asked.

Playing, saying, speaking, spoke
This, the fantasy we invoke
But weaving words with tensiled touch
That reprove the premised, crusted thrust

Here the place in cybered thought
Where horns, and thorns and pixies haunt
Shallowed only in the mind
That laps in liquid space sublime

To dance beneath the moon of time
Shatters patterns, stilled in kind.

37.
Tickling is what ticks will do
When squeezed between this one or two
But silent, not the tender tick
Yammers on, complaining quick

Ticking clocks will also toll
When captured by unlikely goals
Waking slumber, minding times
When those encumbered lose their minds

38.
Lust for living , lust for flesh
Lust, the raptured, shattered jest
That steals our sense, our minds and hearts
Preys on sanity, imparts

The Needing, Wanting, Hungered greeds
That empty echo which yearns to feed
On kisses, touches, silken skin,
This, the sheeted game of men.

39.
Bells will toll with endless goals
While skin will tender and extol.
Ears still hear
if minds are clear

40.
Sleep in shadows, nature's toll
For making life your self-same goal
A lust for living can grow thin
When playful follies remake and twinge

41.
I play with you most every night
Giving quickened, epic light
to the source of these poetic flights

Dancing to iconic dreams
That, written, bid delight to tease

Touched with words, I have been, true
Is writing them a task for you?
Words flow and gush and rush from me
Never stopped by thought or grief.

They come, unbidden, night and day
Rapture filling, inviting play
I've written them through all my life
Shadowed shards of love and strife

I live in that electric place
Of words devising, knowing, grace
Deep inside the me of time
I write divining the sublime

Thus, for me its always been
Words, symbolic, collect of when
And where and what I do
Written, summoned here for you.

42.
Embraces lead to those delights
That rapture, join and thus incite
Those thus drawn into the heat
To give themselves up to their needs

Danger lingers in that cusp
For love is binding, seared with lust
Danger languishes, extoles
The banished echoes thus enrolled

Remember this when drawn to touch
And pause before the cost of lust.

43.
April 3
Lust, the primal drive that feeds
Life's continued need to breed
Is out of phase with much we know
That speaks to life of other goals

But love, the spark of human thought
Resides, incites, and cures drought
that need internal, owned and long
That speaks to heart of spirits song.

Blended with remembered heat
Passions that meet al our needs.

44.
Hugging speaks to human needs
To be held close, returned and known
To Mother heart, that made us free
When we felt fragile, lost alone

Hugs remind us, speak in tones
Of arms and warmth that cherish, show
The place in mind we know as home
Reigniting life's first glow

This, the harbor of the hug
Perfect statement of first love.

45.
Acceptance, hugs and searing truth
Reside in us, align our days
Resonate and call us home
From places where our minds have strayed

Home, the always inner peace
That sustains, remains, maintains and keeps
The never thought, abandoned grief
That kills the will and sheers belief.

Hugs that heal, love distilled
Hold our bodies, mend our will.

46.
Dreams
Dreams that drive and bend and make
The world we live in, feelings slake

Dreams that tantalize, revise
The places that we seldom touch
Because we've let ourselves forget
The passages we must regret

Feelings, maps in which we live
Limiting the choices, give
And take, select and know,
The time eternal, chances grow.

47.
Passages through time and place
Define, refine with mind wrought grace
Power's hold on what will be
In the cusp of fate's dark seas.

Did we meet, in body, mind?
Seeking wisdom, ancient source
Did we set this time bent course
To meet again cleansed of remorse?

When Isaiah's spoken voice
Reverberated, shifted course
Choosing one of many paths
Did we know and truly grasp?

Promised place of soul's divining
Visioned first in ages past
One course chosen, hopes resigning
This, the only path at last.

Truth from one within the sight
Of banished rapture, cleansed with light.

48.
Reaching

We reach and stretch again through time,
defining who and what we are
Banished paths we do not walk,
banished thoughts we don't employ.

The dance of life, the soul-joined coils
That bring us joy and sear and roil

The changing, changed, the same removed
And still, for most, leaves nothing proved

The dance, though given to all eyes
Is singular in every guise.

And love and lust, both joined and lone
Remind and ache with need born song.

49.
Dedication

I dedicated thought and touch,
Mind and memory, life and needs
In time past knowing, granted, joined
That all becoming is still just me.

Searching finds what was not lost
Finding binds with wit-born jest
Never count the dear paid cost
The boon, bright chalice of the quest.

What is lost is well repaid
When time, reminds and has its say

Thanks for clearing, knowing words
That never spoken still are heard.

50.
Words ripple, stipple roil weep
inside my mind, enjoined to heed
The raptured messages they bear
Shattering all my despair

Messaged echoes of what I know
When I allow myself to show
The coiled, living, mindmade truths
That subsume my self as living proof

Woods of wonder, warming flowers
That express unrest and joyous hours
Hugs that banish all despair
Worded touched sent with care.

Friends that speak in cyberspace
Telling tales erase all space.

51.
Later in the Day

Laughter scented, winded tones,
that silken silence before the moan
When time, the harbinger of light
loses self in mind-caught flight

Winter closes with a sigh
that leaves untold the reasons why
Idylled magic lives within
the minds of those we know as friends

52.
Plastic candy's nice to chew
when nothing else will really do
Crunchy stuff with no real taste
Give us appetite for haste

Wiggles win attention, teach
What mindward thought are there to reach
Watch the wiggles, enjoy their heat
And ring the bell of times defeat.

As elephants parade and pose
Telling of what no one knows.

53.
We touch the face of God unseen
by forgetting self and space's sheen
That illusion of time's unsaid lies
that knowing only flat denies
That life is woven, time warped in
life is chosen by each again
When the joining thoughts converge
and give the soul the Earthward urge.

Know that all the unmade ages
Link us back to unnamed sages

54.
Tanya touches all she knows
and thus responds to mindward gnosis
The sweet, low hum of distant honing
Possible are not yet showing

This the time of her long awe
Ending when she is less raw.

Stroke with eyes, and mind and this:
The tender yes that speaks of bliss.

55.
Echoes can touch or score and rend
Delight the senses, savage, rage
The difference in the kind and bent
Written on each life made page

Good and evil, merely words
That express subjective, human views
Of forces which play out the chords
Of songs now music in Earth's sinews

From cataclysm, ages long
to minute change in minor cleft
Each weaves in its shard of song
And each then finds its tiny death

Winning is subjective, too.
The only medal's coiled, true
And only Earth, symphonic whole
Remains in place as virtue's goal.

56.
Plastic gives the mind more scope
to manufacture magnitudes and kinds
of things that light the hearts of folks
Whose poverty would else them bind

57.
When leaves fall soundless to the earth
A cat may play and roll and jump
The always of delight's first birth
Makes serious work a sodden lump

58.
Bugs may flee and find resort
But Abra'll eat them in the end
You need not scold or yet exhort
Abra shares with all her friends.

59.
The Inner Friend must always speak
In words that pierce our first beliefs
For fear is just a thought away
from the truth, "Please, not today."

The dead are clothes, we've taken off
And put aside to be recycled
The essential 'they' are not forgot
But mourned, for all the ways beguiled

But all ends are also death
Death are passaged, counted marks
The metronome that counts our breaths
And knows the moment we'll depart

60.
The Health Department, managed thing
That harbored roadkilled, savaged death
Is in the past that all time brings
Wide the path and great it's breadth.

Important is a state of mind
Determined by our sated thoughts
Important lists of varied kinds
And tells the watcher what we sought

61.
Unerased the space is cleared
unelected delights the savant ear
New things evade the well-worn pose
That seldom says and hardly knows

Great abundance, reprieves from greed
That can't be sated or taught or freed

Good cheer should be your heart-close friend
Given to you to amend
The trammelled life your soul has lead
Divining paths that can't be tred.

Flesh won't falter, eyes won't close
Until you've done the things you chose.

62.
A short love letter
Bodies cradle worlds entire,
interactive, lit by fire,
burnt through time from ages dead,
Their long becoming still unsaid

Joy is written, rapture sought
That time
might twine
with what was wrought

And that in some dimensioned place
Time might ease and grant us grace.

63. The Endurance of the Dandelion

The dandelion is like the will to be free
It springs up when boots stomp
Ripped from the Earth it replants itself,
mending its injuries without complaint.
Where ever their is light and air and water.
It endures the long ache of oppression
It sucks up the sparest sustenance, refusing to die
It breeds true to its form, rejoicing in the
simple heat of the sun and the touch of air.

Sending out shoots and seeds in joyous abandon.
It refuses death and parades its pride in golden bursts of flower.
It defies the plans of the powerful, asserting its own life as true.

The dandelion is like the will to be free.
Not invited, it takes its place in time and space
Defying destiny it lives on past expectation

The flower of freedom is the dandelion
Because the dandelion chooses for itself.
Choose. Be a Dandelion.

When I was young and older than time.

2005-06-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

1. Ode to Identity

am myself
No image, no reflection, no excuse
I am myself
I live and think and make
Take the day for what it is
Take the night for what it gives
I am myself
Born to be unsure and striving
Born to vanquish dark and lying
Born to cry and suffer pain
Born to live and become sane.
I am myself
Denying nothing I have felt.

(Written in 1984)

2. From the Shadow of Tomorrow

This narrow room that binds my dreams to sorrow.
And sends their echos down the stream of time.
To catch in all the crannies of tomorrow.
So that I may pay for all my unseen crimes.

And so, accepting each fell day in numbered sequence.
I walk the path I set before myself.
Refusing to hold back the Love that lends it meaning
Or moving to avoid the things I've felt.

For pain is not the deadly end of knowing,
And Love has tempered fate to let me bear,
The agony I hesitate on showing,
As well as all the laughter sheltered there.

I walk alone in evenings broad awakening
To taste the pleasure lying there for the taking.
(Written in high school, 1967)

3. Time’s Twin Who isn’t Seen

Times twin has shored up shorter lives than mine
Causing them to ripple out in different ways
Where before they echoed on in thoughtless kind
The Twin has multiplied the passing days

For I am not exactly as I was before
The Twin called my attention to the change
Because I had not seen what questing held in store
I could not feel the agony that is not pain

But now I do.
I have looked past the complexities to find
The inner shrine.
(1984)

4. A Star

I'm walking toward my own fast star of destiny
And shadows echo out of gloom
And brightness beckons me to climb
The lonely mountain
The silence whispers

Peacefully, the moments slip behind
Each foot must place its self
Strongly on the road whose end I fear to see.
(1968)

5. A Response to Kipling in Kind

Males are strong and braver than
The female half of species Man
They stand instead of lending feet
To well thought out and tight retreat

Only man will stand in place

Risking death before disgrace
Could it be that in that space
Behind that hard and rugged face
Are gonads, simply out place?
(1982)

6. Shackling Cold

I have been cold
With the strained and lonely shadows
of your words unsaid.

I have turned away to find the self
I had denied
And left these precious parts of me aside.

So let it pass
For I have come to know it cannot last.
Let tolerence persist
And let me find the strength to not resist
Your hold

Until my love of life turns cold
And the shadows are less bold.

For this is what you are to me
You are myself, my heart, my soul,
my smile in the face of all adversity

And if I could reach out and change this cusp
in time I wouldn't move
And love is thus within me proved.

(1985)

6. Self-Changing

Patterns in the water changing endlessly as me
Becoming something else and yet the same
Reflecting living's essence I grow strong inside my mind
Rejecting all the visions of myself that others made.

I build upon the central core
The only living me.
I check the hard foundations without end
Reinforcing and refining the one who I would be
By finding out just what it is
That makes this being me.

Living through the anger and remembering the shame
I close on my beginnings and the spaces that remain
And I fight with quiet surity to break each link of chain
That bound me to a past that was the cause of all my pain

And in breaking out of anger and in severing the bonds
I have found that in becoming truly me

I have been freed.

(1985)

7. A Book Once Read

Will I not be?
When all the pages have been turned
Will the cover close on me?
Is it possible?

Isn't life an endless, twisted path;
For I remember being here before.
My mind has ventured out to touch the truth of it
And tapped the source of knowing with surprise.
So, I accept the interruptions
Find them good.
I will not let them interfere

With the central quest- that is more me
Than my body or my fear.

(1968)

8. A Freely Given Gift

I will always render you the gift of truth
There is no charge for it.
The cost was paid the day I came to love myself
And to forgive,
The kind of life I've forced myself to live

But truth is not a gift without a cost to you.
I think you'll find
You pay for it each day.
Because you must enlarge on it
and give it back In kind.

(1981)

9. Pride

Because I'm proud of me
I celebrate
Because the values I reflect in life

Have often led to strife
between us two
I mourn for you.

Because the you I see
wants complete control of of me.
And none of you you's trust.
The me's to do what's just.

And you know the bottom line?
The me's let you everytime.

(1980)

10. Do Not Assume

There is no price that virtue will not pay
to encompass the knowledge most assume
And see that knowing held by light of day
Can cancel out the fearful shades of doom.

To know yourself as sovereign is to say
That nothing else has relevance to life
And armed thus nothing in our lives can fray
The constancy to self that cancels strife

For peace is not the absence of all living
The inner strife can focus of just ends
And tempered metal's born from base beginnings
For at that point the journey just begins

To see this vision born of essance makes us real
The sovereign man is not afraid
And on this hardened base our soul is laid.

(1982)

11. A Moment Lingering in Memory

(When I was living in Rome as a teenager I was almost struck by lighning that came through an arch of the colosseum and hit the ground within 20 feet of me. The image was so compelling I went home and wrote this that night.)

The night rains wet and cold upon my head
The lightning sears the grass blades on the ground
One white-flash-sword days the night
And holds my eyes and heart and scars my memory
There it stands, piled like a devils maze
Ghost silver in the still-born Day.
Curves piled on curves, jagged it lies
A broken hero in the light

While thunder sings its hymn
And Still-born day returns to night.

(1965)

12. The Distant Blue

You can forget Distance covers all with shadowed blue
And memory can thus be masked in gentler hues.
The scenes are less distinct
And the words are rearranged
Until their metamorphis eases pain.

This is what you'll see
If this is what you'll have it be.

But if you hanker after change
And dispise the weakness in yourself
That cannot deal with pain
- Then you'll remember.
(1994)

13. Cycle Accepted

My flesh is grass
It wavers greenly on the undulating hills
And echos down into the canyons.
It's lushness flushes deeper
In along the rivers bank
And winnows out to nothing

On the dusty plains.
Watching as the twilight flickers through the fields
I see myself part of this whole;
Taking out my life's blood from the grass.
I live prepared to give it back.

(1968)

14. On Carol’s Dying

Silence holds me close tonight
and echos down in past my bones
Reaching to the inner self
I call my home

This peace, this silence
Stranger now
I welcome back.
The thrashing sorrows have emptied me

I have met death.

Not as before - a distant messanger to someone else.
But something cutting close to self.

I've felt the pall of misery
That pulls the blue skies down.
Sorrows had me by the throat
And pulled me toward the ground.

I've been engulfed in quiet agony

And emptiness;
His chilling hands have clutched at me.

Regretting words that passed my lips
In anger bred.
But most of all The words of love

Now left unsaid.
But silence breeds it's own release.

My shell-shocked soul has found its peace.
Love walks with me beyond the grave
I judged myself and then forgave.

(1974)

15. Lonely Moments

If I could lay the lonely moments end on end
And measure out their length in metered time.
The days thus spent in desperate quest
Of meaning might weigh with me less.
But time and truth is only as it is.
And lies cannot deny

The lonely hours sealed behind these eyes.

(1972)

16. Soaring

To be myself.
To soar on wings of pride and self-esteem.
To leave behind this shell of shattered dreams
To exchange the might-have-beens
for What-will-bes

By becoming with a vengence
Most truly - me.

(1982)

17. Silent Guns

There's rust-red violence in the sky today
The shadow-mountains lick away at purpling clouds
Excitement rustles in among the trees
And frees the night wind from the day's embrace.
The evening rushes in to mount its guns along the far horizon
Then to shoot the silvered stars into the darkening sky.

And watching this I sit and wonder why

The echoed song of someone's voice
No longer empties out my joy into remorse.
Distance has now killed the blast of sorrows claim
And left my cleansed of feeling that for a while maimed
Then strengthened

Like a vaccination against a worse disease.
Once when the moon dish wandered through the sky
I only thought of him
Now thought is dry
And other thoughts race madly through my mind.

So, like a hundred million other men I wait
The dawn of that unquestioned Sun
That stills the guns

And hovers on the plains of battle
Quiet beneath its wings
Not looking back to lesser fate
But on to that sun-drenched alpine zenith that

I've yet to make.

(1967)

18. A Day in the Life of....

This day is gray.
It looms leadenly like a down-turned cup
Enclosing me in cold and rain.
It's edge can cut me to the bone
With sickle-cold wind and restless clouds.

I have looked up, now I look down.
To see the earth, refreshed and clean.
The source of life, and all my dreams.

(1968)

19. Home Remembered

I always knew there'd be no going home.
A person grows past need of things like that.
Yet summers shining promise hit me in the face today
And I knew I needed home past reasoning.
I cry for it, abandoned, frightened, sick
And in my need no answer summons out of sense.

So I need home.

That space where I knew life's own terrors
And all the dark intensity of shapeless fear.
Always in the distant haze it loomed
A promise never reached - but always there.

Harsh and chastening; But always mine.
Now gone.
In one day wrenched from my own soul.

I sit here naked to the world
So friendless and so cold.

(1972)

20. The Rider

His hooves cut clay.
The animal between my thighs
Echos out into the light of autumn's day.
The horse's stride intensifies
And my body bends
To ease our passage through the wind.

The wind runs fingers through my hair
And the misted morning cleanses me of all my cares.

I have discovered freedom.
The movement of my body has no bounds,
It rejoices in the glory of the power it has found.

All is ease.

The balance has been struck between the two.
The body that is trained
And the knowledge that has congelled inside my brain.

These few minutes have distilled for me
All the things that mind and muscle can be made to be.

(1986)

21. Even-Call Pause

The quiet melts about my ears
Like waxen candles carried in the night.
And stillness sinks into my soul
And stalks my worries down.

The silence slips softly up about my ears
Tucking in the blanket round my face.
Mystically the darkness shelters all
Arching up protectively across my bed.

Then rest.
Oblivious to outside stimuli
I breath my best.

And curling up into the darkened sheets
I sleep.

(1966)

22. Solitude

I am alone in this dark water tomb
Enclosed on all sides by hateful walls
I am bound close to my fate
And cannot escape
It's parasite-like grasp

I've been here too long to remember
From where I came

And my one desire is escape
From this shrinking well
Of tearing night

I am being squeezed close

The fire pain comes again.
Harder now I go to death
Or is it something else?

(1966)

23. All Ends to Glory

I want to see the glory ride again
I want to sense the magic of a morning spell
As power warps its way up glowing
In the silent light of Earth-fires whispered dawn

All ends to glory.

As the fountain spurts its peeling
Water up into a statue
To the wills of those of power

Joined together for a cause.

To fight for glory.
The blood-red battle calls
to something deep within us all

And the thing responds with fervor
For the love of life, the love of self, and glory.

To leave with glory.

Even as the darkness winds around the head
All other meanings pall
And the single, loving, lasting thought

That sums it up and echos on
To those who know
I lived in glory.

(1966)

24. A Darkened Cave

If I could just escape into tomorrow

And leave my yesterdays in some dark cave

Not to remember the forge that pound me

Into this piece of leaden stuff

That will not let me reach beyond today

Then I would feel the dawn of all the well-content

And wallow in the fullness of a life not dreamt

And yet, what holds me is the memory of my own clay

My beginnings, locked in me onward from the womb

Will ever overshadow 'til the day they arch across me

As a tomb.

(1967)

25. An Unimagined Light

Listening, wondering, watching, fear

Steady danger drawing near

Stomach taut with horrors thrust

Day is old with hours rust

Intellect has shrunk behind

Wisdom of another kind

Consciousness returns to show

The light that I had ceased to know.

(1967)

26. Breath taken Alone

My body seemed to make itself a part

Of all the things that shaped that day for me

Even at this distance I can't say

Where sky began and left my body free

Motion seemed to slow the very hours

And my lungs responded to the change

To swell and take the sweet air into them

To pause to breathe, and pause to live again.

The sun distilled the smells out of the air

And bathed me with perfume of pine and earth

The breezes blew the hair out of my face

And kissed me with the newness of their birth

And looking past the pines above my head

I saw the blue sky mottled white with clouds

Bringing back the things I'd left unsaid

Knowing, that once spoken, where they led.

I let my thoughts evade the central truth

Giving as excuse my ageless youth.

(1980)

27. Climbing Rainbows

I've stolen back the freedom to climb rainbows

From the jealous god of promises not made

Because I know the cost of it is long since paid

And I could not have my travels once again delayed

So come with me and share the silent smiles

As we go on journeys that can't be marked in miles

(1981)

28. Hesitation

If I can tarry in this lonely portal

Yet one more night

Prehaps I can be saved

But if fortune tells me to bear on

I'll rush to cross my Rubicon.

(1966)

29. Always Looking

I've spent my life in seeking things

That I have never found

But the looking has been something

That has set me on firm ground

For I now have set my compass

On a very different course

And the values that were foreign then

Have been my guiding force

I saw that all the goodness

That I thought

Was buried in some strange and lonely spot

Existed all the time before my eyes

Behind a face that struggles with its lies.

(1993)

30. My Lady Love

She waits beside a vast expanse of water

Her hand holds up the light of living day

And never will the justice in Her falter

And never will Her seekers lose their way

For justice is not made in court opinions

And truth is not defended at the polls

As into living rock we drive the pinions

That hold the deathless thoughts that are our goals

Does Justice need the heart of Her defender?

Will Her loving message echo into time?

Will our children's children yet remember

That those who cherish liberty are one kind

Liberty cannot be won - and never lost

Remember what it is and not the cost.

(Written in challenge to a duel of sonnets with Craig Franklin, 1983. He lost, but he will always lose. There is no poetry in his soul. )

31.

A Sonnet Written in Challenge

She stands beside a darkened mass of sorrow

A distant hope of freedom in our lives

A hope that may be realized tomorrow

If we can only pledge ourselves to strive

That promise has been built into our futures

And forged in blood before our mother's birth

In knowledge that the cost can not be counted

Except by minds that understand it's worth

So watch the Lady with her lamp upholding

Salute her in your mind, if nothing else

For her pledge of hope is given us for molding

And each of us must do it for ourselves

The Lady is a promise we have made

And freedom is the value we must save.

(Written in challenge to a duel of sonnets with Craig Franklin, 1983. Craig kept rewriting his poem for the next several years. He still lost. If you can't do it in five minutes then you should hang up your pen. )

32. To My Daughter, Carolyn, now dead to me

I love you.

There is no range or boundary to my cherishing.

I love you now, as I did before - and as I will.

Time out of mind

On and never varying.

(1972)

33. Note of A Political Nature to Chris Hocker

Privily speak I of promises well made

For I would have you know I them remember

For pen to paper thus I put - for so you bade,

And hearing thus your words could I malinger?

You said that you would give me many wonders

For papers writ with wisdom good and clear

That Clark did read to parry many blunders

Of policy when run he did last year.

And murmured you of booklets that you wrote

Designed to teach my candidates of things

That will make them yet less clumsy with the votes

And credit to the cause of freedom bring.

So find the stuff - tout suite, and make it fast!

For I needed it all months ago, you ass!

(1979)

34. To My Son

The door is open.

And through it walks my son.

Out into the night

Away from me.

(1976)

35. The Child

He was a child

Loving colors that explode

And holding life in both his hands

Not afraid to lose

What he did not understand.

He was a child

Forcing patterns on the sand

Accepting nothing as it stands

He wants to know the things

That others are afraid to see

He seeks to understand

To be able just to know

Why everything is so.

A quiet child

He feels the power of his mind

Joined like music with his soul

Making beauty out ofthings

That shine with ordinary rings.

A hungry child.

But inside his growing brain

Lives reason - born again

Crystallizing into being

And breaking out of bonds

Cutting through the veil that shrouds

Raising up and blooming out

Not satisfied with what he is today

He will soon become a man.

(1968)

36. I’ve Always Loved You

It's never been as though I didn't care.

Even when it didn't seem as if I could

I've always tried to do the best for you

And a day has never risen up and fallen down

When hopes for you from me haven't echoed out of mind.

My arms have ached for all the times I haven't held you

My eyes have cried until they throbbed their pain into my head.

I've wondered how you've grown.

And if your friends are nice to you, and you to them.

I'd like to ask if quiet can invade your soul

If you think of things beyond yourself

And days long past next week.

I wish it had been different for us both.

And if all my wishing could have made it so.

I never would have let you go.

(1979)

37. Question of Identity

I am the cusp

I am the storm

I am the darkness of the night

I come as shadow

Cling with murmurs

Leave in newborn light

Not a presence

But an absence felt

Too often let remain

My flesh engulfs you

Laces through you

Twining into you with pain

Often known but never spoken

Feared, denied, and then locked out

Keys and tears will never hold me

There can be no Redoubt.

My name forbidden

Will stay hidden

As echos down a hall

Seeping even creeping

My very mention is your pall.

Some embrace me as a lover

Fearing more to live without

To those I cleave with ardor

Their craven fear has

Locked life out.

(1967)

38. Triumph

I want to laugh and dance and cry and sing.

I want to let the feeling

Building up inside my frame

Pour out to form

A silver fall of shining rain.

I am gladness

I am the effervescent bubbles in champagne

I am every man who cried to find release

From ecstasy so great it left no peace.

(1978 - For LP ballot drive.)

39. Frozen Moment

Despot sun reigns over tide.

Small fish duck under rocks to hide

Fire falls hungry to the earth.

The foam is valued at its worth.

Wind strike screams at top of lungs

Flashing off their soundless guns

Quiet lover laughs at wind

Changing what he wants to bend.

Silver gilt on small fish shines.

Wanting what they left behind.

Fearing yet to hold again.

Frightened even to begin.

(1966)

40. Benediction

I wait for autumn every year.

Eager as a lover is

To taste the beauty of her lips.

For I remember wind through

Falling leaves and a sudden touch of winter chills.

I love the morning air that never quite gives way

To the warmer haze that plaqued me of a summer's day.

I walk through conscious every day

Of fulfillment spelled so many ways.

And when sated with sensation I turn and see

The symbols autumn yearly writes anew for me.

The harvest, earned and taken from the earth;

The sweat turned into living proof that labor is the source of worth

Creation, mind, and value’s birth.

I breath it in and relish all.

The fall of leaves to me becomes

The laurel of a battle fought, and bravely, won.

(1985)

41. The Dragon

The dragon does not see the far horizon

He lives to suck to yolk out of the egg

And though widely spread is he in all his powers

Narrow is the path before him laid.

He finds echos in the lower planes of battle

And does not see the stars above his head.

For all his force is given to his proving

And for that end his kind is finely bred.

So find yourself emblazoned as the lion.

The dragons badge of honor can't refuse

As sinews twist and strain affirm you victor

The dragons stealth denys that he can lose.

Knowing self endows the age-old shield

Knowing dragon-self you needn't yield

(1980)

42. Dragon’s World

Dragons are escaped from this world

Of things that wax material in the light

They have retreated into sleepless waiting

To bring their winged shadows back from night

They wait to see a turn from things electric

To values lit by waxen candles glow

And do you now wait also for their coming?

And do you seek the mysteries that they know?

(1980)

43. A Cry from the Darkness of Time

I loved you thus before the dark unwinding

Of time had rendered up the message of Your birth

And thus before my heart had quit its beating

I saw in you the Savior of the Earth.

And so I bound myself for time uncounted.

To give You all the strength that I possess

The little Babe who laid in home-spun weaving

Taught me to understand my soul is blessed.

And in giving up the Self I thought was me

I found that in exchange that I was free.

(1967)

44. Poppies

Red flowers clash hard with green grass

Brass poppies grow

Row on row

Crying over sun-death

Laughing at the moon-tide

Whipping nerves of men to hide the name

Bright, innocent they are

Bringing evil to the bar.

All innocent.

(1968)

45. Natal Wishes

I wish you pleasure in the everyday

Occurances that fill your life

And the perpetual newness of things often tasted

as well as those untouched.

May you grow to fulfill your capacity for loving

And in the growing come to know yourself completely

(1986)

46. I Am The Wind

I would soar lightly in among the clouds

Letting the carressing wind

cleanse my skin

I am one with this

I am the wind

Bending all and stretching thin

Suspended in a timeless breath of finely stretched intensity

I am the clouds

That look up

In thunderheads of power

Rolling past plains and valleys

Radiating out their blinding strikes of light

Dissolving self back into rain

In cycles unattached to pain.

And I am man

Who sees all with eyes that

Measure time in miles

And journies in transcendent memories

I have learned to see and feel and think and be.

Past singularity

To Self

And I am wind, and rain and clouds.

Encompassed; all; and without doubt.

(1969)

47. Close Friend

To you who touch my quiet core of being

And understand the echos from my soul

With eyes that speak to me and let me grow

You stand with me and know I'll love you always

That the bond we've forged between us served to share

The strength of each when one is grieved or lonely

And would retreat into himself in grave dispair.

Let this mark its memory on you

Love binds us, makes us one instead of two.

(1985)

48. Leaves of Death

My address book holds leaves of death

Names made dust

Memories that live in thoughts grown fainter by the day

The ink is fading

Becoming musty blue from vibrant black

My eyes release them from the page to wander in my memory

Carol's electric blue glance pierce the years

Her laughter, harsh and unforgiving, echos in my ears

I see my mother

reaching out to touch me; wishing there was strength to love

When she feared to even live

Bob

A country western hero

Riding the mustang of honor to

MacDonalds for a Big Mac

No bluster, no pretense, no cynic

Just love, ready to give the substance of yourself

without question.

Stan is there

Alive with hopes and dreams of times that

Slipped through his fingers

Never tasted, never broached

A ephemeral wonder

And Phil

Who lived within the circle of the world

as he knew it

Never afraid

Respectful of justice and honor

Doing right with an automatic grace

Father

Your eyes revealed the child

That your life was bent to hide

You were a gentle soul

Stalwart in purpose

Passionate for truth

A quiet lover of the small gestures that matter

Anne

Your call tolled death, time and time again

That was the most I had of you

Death and death until the end.

You danced into the light

winding ribbons, pink and blue, as your spirit left my sight

In death I was not sister but your friend.

The passing years have taken them

enveloped in the darkness eyes don’t pierce

Hands don’t touch.

Taken and still here,

fading blue, untouchable, but touched.

(Written for those I loved who had died. 1995)

49. Truth & Conscience

Time has swollowed lives without a ripple

Leaving only emptiness and fear

Time can touch you only it you tremble

To lose what is not yours to take from here.

We breath to live and love and eat and wonder

We struggle to unlock the unknown truth

Taking as a given time will sunder

The search that must begin in our first youth

Retreat into oblivion if you must

Life is what we have - and it is just.

(1996)

50. A Short Commentary on the Justice of Nature

Nature is becoming

Never finished; never perfect; never wrong.

The Earth breathed fire

Water sizzled

Steam arose

The crusted, tortured, new-born skin

Crackled, folded, sulked and cooled

Water fell, trickled, flooded

Seas grew, a droplet at a time

One joining one unnumbered and unknown

The Earth Breathed, steady and slow

Wind waxed and stippled water, turned stone to sand

No movement, but light became life

The Earth Breathed

Slow, regular and steady

They came from the nothing

That is the Breath

of Earth

Filling Sea;

Cloaking Land

Colors crowding the mountains, touching the plains

A multitude of living things

Breeding, fighting, birthing, dying

And then gone, forgotten

Bones yellow and breaking into dust

Some fraction impressed in stone

Most erased without a trace

The Earth Breathed on.

Each life mingling in what was

For just a tiny fraction of a moment

A blink of eternity in

Their Long Forever

Mountains stretching tall

Recede and fall

Earth’s face changed and yet the same

The Earth breathed on, steady and strong

The threads of life reach forward into time

As life remakes itself, struggling to survive

Straining muscle, testing will, changing and changed

Time is long, and life short

And always, as the struggle wages war, winning, waning and worn

the Earth breathes on.

(Written in 1996)

51. Birth Song

Buried in grief

Shackled and owned

For slowly bleeding

Generations

Uncounted and unknown

Now.

Emerging

Into Light

Gaining Sight

Hungry for

Possibilities

Untasted and untried

No longer cramped, Restricted

Deformed and bound

Life inflicted

Face forced down

The Woman Dreams

A life distinct

Her life her own -

With all lives linked

Released from Pain

head upraised

Hands unclenched

Child regained

Future bought

With Truth Rethought

Eyes that see

Air to breathe

Lungs that fill

With Sacred Will Stretching, testing

Knowing, making

The Goddess waking

Joyous, still.

Hands caress

Lips poised to bless

Mother & Earth:

The Spirit’s Birth

(1997 - for the Women’s Box project)

52. Time’s hands

(Written in the lost hour of October 26 - 27, 1998)

Turn back the clock of minutes, days

Turn it back and let me gaze

On those I loved another time

Let my griefing ease their minds

Harsh and glaring my repreive

Locked and failing my disease

Turn back the hands of guiltless time

Turn back the clock to seal my crimes

Committed in that shadowed place

Where memories reside with grace

That I have loved is not enough

What I have learned become reproof

Times hands are just and live with me

Slow cadenced metronome of banished dreams

Clamors to remind my heart

That no one ever really parts

Death; illusioned judgement gives

The Soul, the Self can’t cease to live.

September 28, 1998 10:43 p.m.

53. Dedicated to Craig Franklin and Morgan Pillsbury

- Two unsouled beings trapped in Self

I have been ground and milled out fine

For the least of my unmentioned crimes

For I refused to see the truth

And this crime stole all of my youth

I’ve been smashed and ripped apart

The substance fractured in my heart

Because I would not see the light

My soul was banished into night

I have lost all I worked to make

And ventured for my children’s sake

Punished for what I would not see

The ugliness engulfing me.

I found a home in his embrace

A sheltered place of measured grace

He battered my illusions then

He I thought an honorable man.

With nothing left inside of me

Empty, echoed, ravished, grieved

I stood up on my feet again

Felt life’s breath and said, amen.

54. Time Pauses

Anger drains away

Acknowledged, owned and known

Boil bursting

Easing hurting

Throbbing cools

peace renewal

Anger gives us self to learn

I use anger, fear and pain

To pinpoint needed change

Body wisdom

Spirit mind

show me where to use my time

Giving birth to Shadows death

I flow with peace and grace at last

it was an explosion of pain

The pain owned me and

I was consumed in it.

"Jimmy was good."

Hour after hour a small girl cried

Aloud, denying, lies and holding

"Jimmy was good, Jimmy was good

Jimmy was good, good good."

(Written for Women Together at the Unitarian Society. Reflecting remembrance of a traumatic childhood event.)

Rose Series - Written for the Rapture of Roses

2005-06-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

Rose Series – Begun May 6, 2005 at 8:52 in the morning while resident in Alpharetta, Georgia and pondering the imponderables of life. Continued through the tour of many places that touch the heart until we reach 127, the number for all destinations.

Changes in the weaving marking changes in the heart; roses never savored still can touch my every part.

No. 1 New Beginnings

The intersect of memory, an age now filled and gone.
Elected this summation that caps the last full wrong.
The needs that drove the dyings and the blood that dried uncleansed
We drank of these full knowing how short our time to live.

Designed in flesh and future this juncture of despair.
The worst and least of Mankind is past the best repair.
That the flow of human telling might shift away from hate
We chose this point of balanced wrong and sealed the flow of fate.

The balance and the bornings and the generations gone.
Each of these we measured as we dwelt within that song.
The Seven danced the mime of mind
and wove from anguish this Design.

You drink this anguish stricken from mind to bone and cell
No! the message given, your spirit raped and so compelled
To see the contradictions that lift both mind and soul
Now the moment of selection that sees the soul forged goal.

Beyond the edge of custom is freedom of the mind.
This, the vision calls to you, the end of Our Design.
The Christ is present in you to speak the word of light
Your mind consents to listen in loving and delight.

The past is death and grasping and its time to start anew.
The Soul of Christ is in you speaking what is true.

No. 2 Doors – written because of a quote from Cynthia

The doors providing egress that divide but also bind
Are the questions we must answer linking us to the Design
For the steps that trace our living and the words that speak our needs
Enunciate distinctions that remake the course of creeds.

I have lingered in the living and I've tasted of desire
The skin commends the anguish extinguished in that fire.
And still on my agenda is the forward pull of soul
The first and last commandment giving life its finest goal.

The doors stay closed or open; the doors divide and bind
The doors beckon us to open and release the core of Mind
The doors exist within us although we look outside
And the doors can also promise that homes beyond abide.

I open doors in trepidation and I open doors in haste
But all the doors are homeward bound; uniting us in Grace.

No. 3 A Rioting of Flowers - written for the picture from Ray

The panoply of living will announcing life's renewal
Flings its glories on the ground for future's hoped accrual.
In gold and green mosaic, in purple tides of sun made joy
The flowers on the arching hills; a statement God employs.

A lecture on the moments of time that ticks away
Perfection in the making, if Earth can have her way.
Incitement to endurance, and balm of vanished will.
The flowers speak survival to men who listen still.

Inside the mind thats thinking beyond the moments need
Are lessons for the learning that we should take and heed.
The majesty of ancient cliffs, the rioting of flowers
Enduring things of moment that count up human hours.

Inside the womb of living, by Earth and past well worn
The mind of man is learning from a lesson inward borne.

No. 4 The Tones of Love

The sound of tones forgotten; and the taste of hope renewed.
The nearness of a rapture that both captures and eludes.
The melodies remembered that race the heart and mind
These the soul borne fibers that weave love in the Design.

Associated fragrance; the rose pressed on the page.
The letter kept and cherished 'til it crumbles, brown with age.
We cling to those illusions and ignore what can be real
As we taste the vast profusion, the universal meal.

Beyond digestive moments when the soul can pause to hear.
When all the past pretensions leave us nothing more to fear.
Untrammeled by the baggage carried with us from the womb.
Is the truth we all came searching for, if ego with make room.

In momentary insights, in the clearing of debris
The time proved truth of loving awaits for eyes that see.

No. 5 In Contemplation of Chocolate – Written for Roses

In waking need and memory the mind reminds the tongue.
The nose evokes that heady scent; incitement has begun.
The silky sheen of perfect shell; the berried glaze inside.
The thirst for chocolate ecstasy, a hungry heart beguiled.

The sight and touch reminds us of times now passed away.
Magnificent experience; enchantment long delayed.
The fingers touch the surface, so smooth and sharp the edge.
The scent so rich and eloquent; an object and a pledge.

The fullness of experience; the lips caress and probe.
The tongue explodes, sensation bound, each nibble so extols.
That tasted edges beckon us to sate our inner greeds.
And lead us on to avenues that ease our other needs.

A chocolate form perfected is worth the price it cost.
Eaten and remembered; that pleasure can't be lost.

No. 6 The Tools of Humanity – A series within a series.
For Roses, who thought it would be a good idea.

Into the mind of woman from her desperation born
Came the use of hair and fibers to tie and weave what's worn.
Her need arose from circumstance, her arms must hold her child.
Ideas made into matter were necessity compiled.

The babe she bore and suckled brought love and desperate need.
The eye locked needs of mother, child, evoked a better breed.
The mind of woman understood what only women know.
The fear and awe that men expressed became both faith and goad.

Original of family, her whose children lived to breed
Original of commerce, cooperation born through need.
Original of churching, the awe that incites fear
Original of everything, came from babe held near.

Original transition from animal to now.
Ideas the means appointed to create and to endow.
The awe of birth and bleeding, creating fear in eyes of men
Became the lever needed to survive, again, again.

The rise of nation's power that deified men's gods
Ignored the source devoured that had shortened all our odds.
The commerce grown from weavings that only women made
Consumed by rampant needings that made all women slaves.

The world in forward motion, forgetting whence it came
Creates in place of history men's fantasies of fame.

No. 7 Loving and Being Loved

In momentary increments like beads that tell our faith.
The moments of a love well tried brings solace and true grace.

The blending and contentment designs a place apart.
The changing tones of mind and skin seep in to touch the heart.

Through all the parts of loving, thin and tempered steel.
The truth of love patinaed lend us ease most real.

Through anguish and through anger, through vanity and age
The truth of love instructs us as life turns every page.

All disappointments mellow because of eyes that see
Accepting imperfections that bind and leave us free.

The rapture and rejections that love can meet and mend
Teach us that for loving we first must find a friend.

The sweetness of full trusting; a place I've yearned to know.
The place that still eludes me where I most want to go.

No. 8 A Prayer for the Children of Iraq and America
who have tasted the dust of death in the womb.

Born from trauma; wounded by their time within the womb.
They want the arms of loving while truth spells out their doom.
They struggle to see beauty through eyes boiled red by war
They're here for us to cherish because that's what babes are for.

When the sight of them revolts us; we turn so not to see
But these babies born to suffer speak our own destines.
Our leaders stole their future that profits might accrue
Those of us who care enough must give them what is due.

These babies soft and needing, who survived the dust of death
Deformed, their mothers grieving, bear the cost of this excess.
Truncated lives of struggle their faces shock our eyes
This truth must be examined; it cannot be denied.

The Geiger counter clatters instead of rattled toys
The burning pain envelopes them and cancels out all joy.
And still our leaders posture, lie and bumble right along
Because the profits counted cannot possibly be wrong.

Our weapons scored their chances to live the lives we know.
Our leaders eyes on profit dismissed their right to grow.
From nuclear waste recycled into weapons aimed both ways
It's generations still unborn who'll know the real price paid.

A poison lives among us in souls well steeped in greed
All of us their victims, ground up that they might feed.
The appetites of NeoCons grow without an end
Consuming all Earth's children, so Earth might start again.

Humankind is fragile and the lesson from Earth's school
May cancel all our future lives, all hope for our renewal.
The justice unremitted to these, the most in need
Could spell the loss of every life that fails to hear or heed.

Justice now for all the babes to make the world more sane.
A promise for the future that ends the right to maim.
Justice for the Earth herself, for all of us are One
One people on one globe of life beneath one pulsing sun.

The time is past for waiting; the dust of death arrives.
It settles on our nationhood with all its sheaths of lies.
It cloaks our every action with disrepute and fear
And stark will be the future if the least are not held dear.

10,000 generations, uncounted lives destroyed
Will pass to find this dust of death still active and deployed.
Our babies still will struggle to see and breathe and be
As Earth, the first born mother, rethinks our destiny.
.

No. 9 To the Ill Fame of both sides in the Civil War

The South would rise with sabers and take up speech of rights
Lincoln, mad oppressor, would be shown that they could fight.
But America's Revolution, now lost and passed away
Had left a clear foundation that still had much to say.

It's words of honored mention affirmed all Man to be free
The capital that bought the chance affirmed that destiny.
No state has rights to limit; no state may this amend.
So Southern rights were hollow, infirm at every end.

So Lincoln used the flower of a serfdom ill devised.
From England's dour history, in the South is still survived.
To reinvent a kinghood that stays with us today.
And the words of freedom lingered, not knowing what to say.

With manifest assertions, flawed with greeds and power
Lincoln took our Nation to Freedom's darkest hour.
His help meets were all Southern because they failed to see.
That freedom isn't given through any state or fee.

So cry for banners lifted to a State built on a lie
And cringe for all the might have beens that Southerners deny.

From the one Eternal, residing in the soul
Freedom still is sacred – and Freedom's still the goal.

No. 10 Sophia Coming from the Shadows

Emerging from long silence, ages long, that stilled her voice
Comes the image of a woman who gives form to the Design
Her lengthy absence anguished, it killed our forward choice.
Condemning all to interregnum of the feminine sublime.

The birthing of all children viewed as wage of sinful act.
The very truth of generation seen as ugly and obscene.
The coursing of her body became a shameful monthly fact.
Her truths were changed and altered to own her and demean.

Her gifts that made us human, that set this course through time
The weavings and the makings that became our wealth of mind.
Converted to men's erections; their possession reassigned
But the truth, though long evaded, still awaited those inclined.

Now Sophia is emerging into minds that can't forget.
Her presence forging hope anew beyond the grave of years.
The blending of the Consciousness that now we can't reject.
Holds place for all of humankind who move beyond their fears.

Anointing true awaking She who launched us into time
Comes Sophia, Ancient Mother, who sets our course divine.

No. 11 The Mind of Mother

Gathered by the handfuls the grain would fill their need
The children, gaunt and hungry, they clung and asked to feed.
Her baby's whimpers moved her to see all things anew
From pounded grains made into paste the babe survived and grew.

The residue of pounded grains fell on heated rocks
The woman touched its brown tinged crust, and tasted what heat brought..

The grains of gathered wheat and rye, the seeds of barley, corn
From all the seeds she gathered the baking bread was born.

The labor of the making, devising better tools
These the truth of woman-world that forged all human rules.

No. 12 The Summoning of Vision

His hands extended raptures that I have never known
His face alive with vital thought and glowing, pulsing tones.
He locked my eyes in visions that reached beyond today
And drew me into Love again without a word to say.

All the distant journeys now gone and passed away
All the anguished moments past, extinguished in today
All the deaths and destiny that cost us each so dear
All for Him before me who I can almost hear.

His arms upreaching tell me of further work to do
The joyous challenge in His face makes all experience new.
And in that Face so perfect another One is born
A Face that holds summations, beginnings lightly worn.

The silent face of futures already made and and come
Reprove my doubt and fearing and leave me still and numb.
To do the work still promised; to live within the pledge
The brotherhood that draws me on to life's most holy edge.

And from the Face that drew me another One comes forth
Her beauty soft and vibrant, alive with truth and force.
The hands and arms uprising now reach out to embrace
The cost of love is knowing; the gift of truth is Grace.

The sight of golden glories that burn into my eyes
Subsume the Truth oncoming; without the least disguise.

No. 13 Dance of Reckoning – for the cessation of fear

Sequestered in the silence that is deep and ages long
Is the requiem of innocence that buries all my songs.
Within that cup of bitterness that stings my every draught
Resides the dregs of my salvation, all made of right and wrong.

Upturned the cup of rapture, to drain out every drop
Consumed the savor and the sanity without the time to stop.
My anguish and my ecstasies both canceled out through time
And me, I am so glad of it, I've finished the Design.

The ages and the wages and the untold lives between
Compiled every minute, every thread of thought I'd seen.
And the missteps mark my passing from the form and flow of truth
From age evolving innocence, the larval form of youth.

The reckoning is coming through the darkened caul of years
I stand right here to meet in, wrapped in all my fears.

No. 14 What if?

What if I hadn't told you before you left today
How very much I love you; how glad you came my way.
What if I hadn't told you, hadn't had you in my life?

My life would have been different, emptier of cheer.
Without that special feeling of knowing you are near.

My life would be vacant of your intriguing bent of mind.
shallower and thinner, and probably less kind.

I am very glad I know you, very glad me met
And no matter what may happen now, that I'll not regret.

No. 15 Connecting Time and Minds

In the intercourse of moment when eyes and minds are one.
Are the places where connections are forged beneath this sun.
Invisible the interface, behind where no one sees
There the quantum interlaces, binds yet leaves us free.

In communion Earth elected long before the thought was born
In the silence soul elected from a past both raw and torn.
Came the longing and desire to return to something new.
The question poised in contemplation so that thought could then ensue.

Here we pause in fear and longing to hear and still our needs
That the follies of the ages might be healed, our anguish eased.
And the intellect that drew us can amend the broken dream
Of a joining and a rapture that incites and so redeems.

The connections weave our spirits and design a world not seen
As we explore reflections without knowing what they mean.

No. 16 Velvet Roses - for Roses

My lips embraced its essence as its scent caressed my mind
I remember roses that entice and so remind.
The velvet of its petals were a riot most sublime
I drown in convolutions that invite and lend me time.

The rapture found in roses on an early morning walk
Remain the place inside my memory that does not need to talk
For the touch and taste of roses, long dead, still live in me
And this the sure reflection that restates my destiny.

I remember roses and I hunger for the mist
That glaze their unfurled colors when blue tones still persist.
And I wished to stop the moment, to extend the cusp of joy
because the fiercest pleasures should never be alloyed.

The few, the sharp, the insights that redeem the time misspent
All for me hold memories that tie them fast to scents.

No. 17 Cascades of Light

The mottling of forest shifts the leaves above my head.
The light, a motley harbor that eases every dread
I swim in eddied fragrance hearing symphonies of life.
Catch the errant flurries turning each to sheer delight.
Time suspending problems that sent my soul to Earth
Tortured hope has filled me; I hungered for rebirth
I walk the paths of needled pine and pray to be renewed.
The sound and scent of living things still tells me what is true.

Cascades of light divining that kiss my hair and eyes
Remind me of reflected thought from which the mind grows wise.
Cascades within the fall of forest sent by distant sun.
Incite the thoughts from ages borne to see all life as One.

In cascades made of photons to cascades made of thought
From all and each is life compiled and forward progress wrought.

No. 18 Connecting to Tomorrow

A passage to the future that eases every grief
Arms that squeeze out every fear that challenge my belief
Echoes of another Love, One that held me near
A space for this remembering is every day more clear.

The destiny of fortune remits my forward rush
The agony revisited is pain and also just.
Ownership admitted to life too lightly lived
Still holds all the promise that One came here to give.

Inside the folds of folly, outside the throb of need
Is every right intention that leave me free to grieve.
Acceptance that the struggle may kill my dearest hope.
And cut off all the promises that gave me larger scope.

Acceptance of potential; acceptance of the loss
Both inherent certainties that blend the promised Cross.

No. 19 More Roses for Roses

Its coiled petals murmur of the scent that draws me in.
Its memory will linger when life is harsh and thin.
I'll taste recalled renewal from its fragrance and its touch
Glad a rose's essence can't lie or kill my trust.

The memory of roses that linger in my mind
Recall interludes of rapture, neither harsh nor kind.
These pauses in life's flowing are grace points for the soul
Neither need nor pain there touches me beyond a need for goals.

The rapture of the roses; their scent reminds and heals.
They ask no price, extract no strife, no part of me need yield.
My pleasure from the roses won't take their scent away
My memory remains with me; they wither undismayed.

So life extends and nurtures, not all exchanges take
And roses bloom and die unplucked, ignoring all my thanks.

No. 20 The Confusion of Roses

The convoluted petals, like bouquets of ripened thought
Dispel the empty detritus that time and pain have wrought
A morning full of dreaming gleams, the shadows all are gone.
Untasted possibilities, all poised like unsung song.

The bud becomes the flower arching out to bring renewal.
The stamen and the pistil don't think about the rules.
Their drive to live and multiply appoints their short lived need.
A failure to perpetuate would cancel out their breed.

The flower and the primate live to cast their seed
But in the time allotted us is also time to grieve.
For moments missed and muddled, untasted joys of soul
These cadenced delectations remain each spirit's goal.

The rapture of the roses meet in minds that reach through pain
To teach your soul the unseen truth and make this living sane.

No. 21 The Arrival of Roses – for Roses

Kissed with misted memories that linger in the mind
The roses came with greetings to tell me life is kind.
They set up place of honor on the table by my bed
Their fragrance touched on all the things that we have never said.

The roses of reflection coddle dreams we have not shared
Connections that are fragile, never spoken, never dared.
They remain in introspection, safe inside the head
Never spoken, never followed, because of where they lead.

But roses bloom unfrightened, hours measure out their time.
Their blooming: its own purpose; outside of our designs.
The fragrance so evoking of dreams that burn and ache
Remain when bed is empty and no one can partake.

So thank you for the roses, they linger in my mind.
As do your words and wicked wit, outside this cusp of time.

No. 22 To Roses

Linking pinkies binds a friendship with no limits and no end
The pledge abides vicissitudes of time and place and kin.
And Roses hear the music of a dance that has begun
A dance that weaves its magic in melodies of tongue.

In wakings and in makings that remind us life is dear
The nuance of a friendship is always light and clear
A voice that asks and pauses, ears that wait to hear
The links of common thinking find the icons both revere.

And the music of the moment wafts like seas of rippled light
That gleam with conversations that promise new delights
New insights spark and hold us in the dance of human need
That nurture and sustain us, entice and leave us free.

The linking of the pinkies and ideas that light the dark
Pledges of a friendship that enraptures mind and heart.

No. 23 Points of Funny

The touch of truth relieves us of the pain we cannot shed
Laughter is the instrument that eases heart and head.
Connecting us to anguish while anguish trickles out.
Laughter is the medium through which we lose our doubts.

The convoluted raptures that remind us we are odd
The insights that redeem us and point us back to God
The closeness of a sharing where we acknowledge fear
All, the stuff of humor that help our minds grow clear.

The spark of light that ripples in laughter that extols
The end of life and fervor that is every souls real goal.
Allows the closest blending of mind and heart and touch
That honor and extend us, showing life is just.

Laughter lights the fires of worlds still hid from sight
That deliver our redemption and the substance of delight.

No. 24 On Dying Roses

Their petals curl and darken from red to russet tones
Its scent condensed turns inward and reminds me I'm alone
The magic and the moment are paused in cusp of life
And roses turn towards dying, leaving my delight..

A symbol speaking loving, to human eyes and minds
The rose itself the organ for making its own kind.
The petals beckon breeding, continuance through time
Never thinking or debating its place in the design.

Man's endorphined haze of rapture is foreign and absurd
The rose accepts its dying with neither cry nor word.
Small deaths of hope and honor are human kinds of thoughts
The rose curls in, extinguished, its petals bend and drop.

Between the death of roses and the hope that makes life whole
Are promises of loving that remain my human goal.

No. 25 Islands in the Desert

Islands in the desert reaching up into the sky
Cloaked with pine and cedar they stand three miles high
The desert down below them holds a different kind of life
The distance is deceptive; each a gradient of strife

The struggle to continue; in each a single song
The cactus and the cedar, neither right or wrong.
The life that time unfolded from the sea, an age away
Is still the Mother of the future; the source of yesterday.

An Island in the desert and an Island cloaked in space
Both the product of Creation that brings both life and grace.
The flow and form confirming that living tells its truth
Survival is the eloquence that gives us place on Earth

Islands rise up joyous to meet the clouds above
Testaments to powers who speak to us with love.

No. 26 Echoes of Laughter – For Roses

The moments never mentioned are filled with focused thought
Internal tools drive us with all those insights bought.
Hours deep and coddled by the raptures of the mind
Still leave an empty aching when thoughts are so inclined.

The hungered need of laughter has place in these designs.
Laughter heals and captures and tries to make us kind.
Outside the drives of intellect are other human needs
Fulfillment is the condiment that confines and leaves us free.

With laughter scented moments that issue magic in
The touch of our emotions builds bonds that make us friends.
That place of human needing that quenched can make us whole
Laughter stills that anguish when living takes its toll.

So pause to laugh and wonder, listen and reflect.
The touch we leave unsavored is waiting for us yet.

No. 27 Cadence - For Roses

In laughter scented nuance that abides when voices still
I find the best and gladdest of my hopes to be fulfilled
Reflections of the mystery that contain the choice of thought
The sequence of the hours bring their lessons truly taught.

Illusions that beguiled in the callowness now past
Have lost their force and hunger; leaving place for what will last
The touch and scent of roses and the voice that speaks delight
Both promise a redemption that restores my faith in light.

Outside the caul of reason, inside the human soul
Are all the wisps of passion that are remain the inward goal
To touch and blend the laughter, to bind the mind and heart
To rub smooth the flaws of pain and fear that shattered every part

Illusions no more comfort, the truth the cup I sip
To taste of grace of passion as I drink love from your lips.

No. 28 Hunger – Written for Roses

In the silent introspection that holds me through the night
I give space to all the shadows that disturb my forward flight
Illusions stilled in midnight seep out and leave me peace
As what remains inside me kindles mindward course into belief

In the muted blue of shadows I test these new edged thoughts
Compiling and excising mistakes my life had taught.
I touch the raw and troubled, remembered times of shame
Expunging mismade connections leave me eased of pain.

The scent of roses lingers through the houred course of night
Its promise is the misting that veils the morning light.
Cascades of time and passion fill out a past removed
As sweated, shaking, anguish drains the harsh and crude.

I thank the night for silence, for the place where lies can die.
Moving into sunrise, that heals that child's cries.

No. 29 Freedom - written to Roses

An anguish and a hunger that invades my sleep and dreams
A thirst that's always present to parch my very being.
Every breath a labor, and every thought a wound
My soul would savor freedom, my body sees its tomb.

I've built and framed the future, lived on hope and will
But the takers always find me and so the dreams are stilled.
The child of my body and the milk within my breast
All turned to acid burning that shatter home and rest.

But scent and taste of freedom still beckons from afar
Its light on the horizon is like one dying star.
Through ages gone uncounted, through years and anguished trial
My heart and soul have hungered, rejecting fates denial.

The firm hard edge of freedom that makes the world anew.
The vision from the cradle that your soul still knows as true.
The only harbor calling from beyond the silent grave.
Freedom is the rapture that only we can save.

It calls and you can hear it, if you can lose your fear
Freedom is God speaking that all of us might hear.

No. 30 Struggles that make us whole - To Roses

I found the thoughts reflected from a window glazed with gold
The thoughts curled in, enticing me, my grave seemed far less cold.
The struggle with my anguish scored both mind and heart
I rose, rejecting torment, forgave that life restart.

The struggle carved my future and the future lets me see
The fullness of the intellect, the truths that make us free
The road is long and lonely and no one knows my pain
But the Struggle is companion who asks no price or gain.

I fill the mornings moments with the tapping out of thought
I read the words I've written and see the image caught
I feel the blood still pumping and smile out through tears
Because the cost of breathing was conquering my fears.

The first and last of intellect that blend to make me whole
To pay the price of conscience and light the future's goals.

No. 31 The NeoCons

They make war on rights and freedom, undeclared but finely planned
They size up all possessions, to hone their false demands.
Laid out in detailed memos their bank accounts await.
But no amount of taking can satisfy or sate.

The NeoCons are coming to take both life and hope.
Liberty and honor, concepts beyond their scope.
The grasping and the appetites consume our very lives.
Their greeds and needs consume the Earth; excess their only guide.

The NeoCons are coming to take what is not earned
This the lesson taught them, by a past that never learned.
Dividing up the living into those with rights and not.
Destroyed the very future that our Founders lives had bought.
The human rights of women, ignored has done us in
The NeoCons are coming to punish that first sin.

No. 32 Sharp Shadows

The languid ease of autumn with harvest taken in
reminds me life has slumbered, still waiting to begin.
A glow and gaud redeem me, the leaves hold heart and eyes
The crimson flush of color speaks in tones I once despised.

The lungs can ache with needing for air to heat the blood
The mind can hunger also, for hands both wise and rough
Within the soul immortal the beat of both pulse on
The mind and heart communicate, neither right nor wrong.

And the shadows, sharp and savage, remind me life will end
Within the cusp of living the will must learn and bend.
And canopies of autumn spread out across the lawn
Their colors gold and wanton, their life is nearly gone

I welcome fall and shadows the harvest gold and true.
As symbols and intentions their message still is you.

No. 33 Coalition

Ideas the drive our actions and disguise our common dreams
A chasm dredged and widened through the cleverest of schemes.
Ideas, the human tooling for structures of the mind
Translated into factions they steal and kill and blind.

Ideas from minds forgotten, ideas that linger on
Ideas that ooze with power even when they're wrong.
Ideas have maimed and murdered through every human state
Ideas have stolen freedom with deceits that feed a false debate.

To see the truth behind them, rebuilding human dreams
Accepting each as equal rejecting what demeans.
Filling in the chasms that divide all kinds of men.
The vision of a future that freedom must demand.

A coalition meeting to hear and think and see
Ideas of common future that serve to make us free.

No. 34 The Metronome of Houred Time – for Roses

The pulsing beat of minutes, number out my life
limits and a liberty that speak of love and strife
And lips unkissed reproach me for all I have not done
The slow dried petals slumber, each touched by perfect sun.

Life stretches out and slumbers, remitting misspent dreams
And moments filled with silence both promise and demean.
The petals smell of passion and promise an embrace
While moments die untasted and leave no touch or trace.

For I remember laughter and the nuance of your hand
As moments pass untasted because of life's demands.
Ideas that fill and sate me still leave my flesh in need
You, the pleasure beckons to hold or only tease?

The days of life hold anguish but also seeds of hope
That passion soar and blossom, fulfilling both our scopes.

No. 35 The Subtleties of Silver; the Intricacies of Gold

Their sheen reflects our passions and the greeds of human need
Inciting love and hatred they hold and always tease.
The Noble metals harbored within the Earth, our home
Reflect us, great and vile, a mirror stark and dumb.

The noble and the common within each human heart
Find the place eternal from which all moments start
They struggle for survival; they chart the futured past
Repeating all the conflicts they forge our living last.

On footed souls were seek them; we struggle to possess
The metals test our mettle until the moment we divest.
Through intellect and hungers we justify our goals
While fulfillment slips through fingers and fails to make us whole.

True metals in the moment when heart and soul are one
The Earth the place of testing, a testing just begun.

No. 36 The Glaze of Thought

In twists and turns of turbulence that stretch my very seams
The fabric of reality converges with my dreams
And the glaze of thought awakens and the future rushes in
The endings and beginnings, in thought, are closest kin.

The rapture of remembering, the hot sharp touch of mind
Each component to assemble the final phase of every kind.
In the birth of morning silence and the death of scented rose
Are the elements eternal that no one can ever know.

As the shadows bend oncoming every nuance, every truth
Votes its echoed coming from decrepitude to youth
The first and last reversal that laughs at dreams undone
Remembers the renewal when all of us were One.

Out of many splintered moments in orgasmic rush to Mind.
The weaving threads in each of us converge as the Design.

No. 37 A Christmas Wish for Roses

The echoed light of laughter,
The heart-held peace that lasts
The glaze of hope unsullied
Holding futures and our past.

A smile lit with trusting
A home that draws love in
Gifts extending and adjusting
That invite us to be kin.

A world of balanced yearnings
A world that makes us one
Unnumbered threads a-weaving
Around one living sun.

The cycled year recalls us to view our lives anew
To speak our hopes most private and make those visions true.

No. 37 Christmas Memory of early February

His Presence felt for ages before the Birth Divine
His summoning of sages compelled both love and crimes
His Spirit drove and forged us
His Plan to make us One
Became the underscore oncoming
Its chorus still unsung.

The Rapture still invoking
Both tears and heady sight
A throughline of becoming
Bringing fear and rare delight.

His Smile lit the ages with a Love that never dies
That remains the wages that sustains us through the lies.

His Birth to Mary called us to know the harshest grief
But dying within his holding is the first and perfect peace.

No. 38 Self Discovery

To see the past as present in the shadow of your soul
To know the truth repugnant and change your furthest goal
To ache with tears unsummoned and accept your desperate fear
Life's challenge and the ravaging are what you should hold dear.

The anguishes of failure and the pain of misspent love
The spirit bound in flesh and mind; the hand within the glove.
Reproofs unearned and wrenching, the loss of every hope
Fractures on the glaze of trust with which you cannot cope.

All tempering and burning; the fire burns out dross
In the crucible of living nothings really lost.
So take my hand, I'll lead you into the molten core
The burning is not pleasant but it must not be ignored.

On the journey made internal is the battle to be won
To the place where the eternal, in peace, will make us One.

No. 39 The Flavors of Reality

The languid mood of winter, releasing me from fear
Excites the premonitions that excises hope most dear.
I do not trust your fervor and I doubt that love is real.
Your eyes look past my needing, and glint with tones of steel.

My skin remembers passion; my mind reproves my need
The eloquence excepting, releasing me to grieve.
For trust is never useful in relationships of love
The needing and the seeking makes squabs of every dove.

I've felt your fingers fondle me in mind and bodied place
I've steeped myself in passion and extolled your every grace
In mind our lovings happened while in truth its my disgrace
Behind the shield of inference, we never did embrace.

I've loved an age in waiting and I've known your lips as mine
But in the clutch of winter I've found you less than kind.
Because I want that closeness I step back and then I sneer.
Passions cup is waning and every day less dear.

I love the patterned thinking that traces mind in you
But I doubt its couraged content having found you less that true.

No. 40 Cascades of Truth

In the silence of the night time when the soul is free to see
I taste the past-made corridors that forged my destiny.
Like torrents unrelenting they bring both truth and grief
Clarify and sanctify what time has made of me.

In the place of honor, where all my lives are one.
I see the real beginnings where assumptions are undone.
And I laugh as tears undo me, I grieve for what is known
As Time still makes and so infuses me with what I did not own.

The love of him who touched me with ideas that sealed my fate
Leaving to the dust bin other courses that elate.
For him, the source of thinking, for him the source of lies
I find the cause and sacrament that only Gods despise.

The laughter and the longing remain with me through time
And change the course of thinking, all human and divine.

No. 41 Listen to Me

Divided by the lies and greeds of them who grasp at power
Our lives and love divided to grieve the fall of towers.
I've missed the referenced moment when you spoke your best belief
And wandered in the desert, weighted down with soul torn grief.

I'm woken in the night time, wanting your lost touch
I've anguished for the moments that felt might lead to lust.
I need the skin close nuance that stops the flow of time
And known in those sparse moments your place in my designs.

The flow of raptured memories will never wait or grieve.
The moments are for taking, fulfilling all our needs.
I wakened to the closeness of one whose really there
And cancels out the anguish of lives filled with despair.

This night is arching onward towards reunion with the light
And only you and I will know if its arching brings delights.

No. 42 Out of Many, One

Out of choices made in passion and from thoughts distilled in time
Come the weavings that define us and determine the Design.
For us to set the boundaries of the world where humans live
For us to mark our roles with thought; determine what we give.

The forward thrust of living, the actions humans take
Determine lives unstarted beyond the last debate.
And the many go on weaving through the choices each will make
Affirming or revoking the structures of the State.

And from that vast profusion writ in blood, and living will
Shall echo out our future action, to survive or maybe kill.
The structures we have fashioned from our needs and appetites
Will speak our timetold truthing, both to shame and to delight.

And from this sea of savagery, from survival and through grief
All will come together, made as One through shared beliefs.

No. 43 For Roses wondering, the delights of passion

The choices made in passion touch the tenderest resort
Where each of us is singular, confronting life's first torts.
Our passions will define us to the farthest edge of life
And passion is the lever point; conjoining all our sight.

Through mind and through emotion to a place we've never been
We strain to see the outline, discerning closest kin
The interface uniting us in spirit, body, mind
Tells the anguish and the raptures, making up our own design.

I tell you of the passions that continue all our lives
The pulse of hope and anguish that considered make us wise
The conduit for intellect; the voice that speaks our needs
The insight that accepted bring us up and to our knees.

I'll tell you of the passions that may start on naked skin
But when truist simmer through us lending strength to make amends.

No. 44 For Roses – Caught in Thought

Through the shadows on the spirit that send anguish through the spine
The paths that weave life's magic also lend their flow to minds
And minds fracture and refine us producing worlds of many kinds
To beckon and extend us as we seek the source sublime.

The journey of an hour that extends to ages long
Our life, a blink of moment, stilled inside a note of song
Extensions of the power and the rapture of our need
Each a true expression that each spirit learns to heed.

Our passions weave in wonder to the pulsing that is life
They merge our thoughts and hungers, elemental in device.
Our passions sate and fill us, staving off the touch of death
And grant us glad delections with a touch that spans life's breadth.

The truist of our passions merge the mind and give us scope
To move beyond the anguish that extinguished lesser hope.

No. 45 Assumptions and the State where I met Roses

In an effluence of comments on the markets never free
Discourse rising and reacting to the tones of miseries
Invoked by fraud and violence from those trusted with all power
At a conference of the intellect, attendees sad and dour.

In a place of academics living in a sheltered place of mind
The discourse never reaches, never bends the State's design.
For the human action pulses with the weaving lives and wills
Of people who will never read the Austrian appeals.

Be cautious of the structures that you build inside the State
Be careful to remember that assumptions steal and take
Remake your own conclusions, never questioned that enslave
All structures of exclusion dig for liberty a grave.

Free the choices stricken from a world bound up with lies
Unchain the mind and spirit so our choices aren't denied.

No. 46 Meetings in the Mind and Heart

A place for meeting focuses, we see our future dreams
We pause to reconnoiter, to consider errant schemes.

The searing touches rendered, the gasp of pulsing skin,
Sensations to remember, delights that lead us in.

A million places beckon us, to sate our hidden needs
Question what your needs demand and what those yearnings breed.

A cause, a quest, that calls us to a life in human form
Emancipating human hopes; from this a future born.

Weight the full course beckoning and count off hidden costs
The consequence of harbored hopes can also carry loss.

Temptations of the body; hungers of the soul,
Justify those ugly acts that leave us less than whole.

The hardest and most precious gift, the only one that lasts
We bring its print along with us, engraved in soul made pasts.

To live a life of honor; to keep the record clean
To stand before the the One Who Knows, proud of every scene.

The dross of life is counted in deceit and misspent hours.
The forge of living burns out dross; leaving our true power.

The satin touch of passion, sensations that most please.
The cost in honor lost to us could leave our souls to freeze.

No. 47 The Playground

On the playground of their childhoods, where they struggled to fit in
The men we know as NeoCons faced derision without end.
Asocial and too clumsy to excel at any sport.
They learned to use deception to survive and to extort.

Feel pity for their anguish, they trembled with that pain
And swore to change their status; it left them less than sane.
They lost themselves in fancy; they lived on dreams of power
They studied all the rule books and deception left them sour.

Through the angst of viewing what other men could do.
Building edifice most dour to make their dreams come true
Assembling their tools with persuasion and with guile
Philosophy and policy converted to beguile

Grasping and consuming; their souls without a song
Arrested in their boyhoods, unable to move on
Their stunted souls inform us if we take time to see
The fate of all such takers, their ugly destiny.

See beyond the glitter as they putrefy within
All tyrants throughout history recognize their kin.

No. 48 Love and Need

The ripples of your laughter, the insights that inform
The touch of thoughts inciting, ideas beyond the norms.
The shape of worlds oncoming from thoughts that make us kin
These, the magic interludes that differences amend.

Excitement sealing happiness that carries me through time
The smiles, these evoking, that embrace our whole design
As thoughts sublime and pungent, change the landscape of the mind
You, the one who shares these things, underscores each line.

The world of mind is opened through touches that delight
Bringing peace and promise to extend the edge of sight.
And the rapture and the inferences embrace of whole of life
To know and to remember, rejecting what is strife.

The love of cherished honor, the tones of life lived right
Remain the choice of passion that flourishes in light.

No. 49 Human Action, Warping Passions - for Roses cause he asked

In digs through human detritus from events removed in time
Reassembled like the pottery, that shattered, conceal design.
The hungers and the urges that decided what has been
Also serve to show and tell us; to speak the souls of men.

Their greeds drove them to hunger and their greeds determined lives
Their greeds reached out to ravish as conquest fed their drives.
The base, the ugly lustings to acquire what is not earned
Deceit and base coercion was the lesson they best learned.

With blandished words, well monied, from the well-heels halls of power
Came Cato and Ed's cabal to grasp and to devour.
The tools of oppression Crane would see arrayed
So Rothbard was ejected and the Milton card was played.

Ideas affirming freedom could not be left in play
So the Austrians were muted, their force of truth delayed.
And who will count the losses, and who will pay the cost?
And who is left to understand the bottom line of loss?

Debasing words of honor used to mean the soul inborn
The freedoms we all cherished, converted, burned with scorn.
Autonomy indwelling in each denied by law
To profit cancered egos that demanded wealth by claw.

The list of ugly takers, writ long, remember well
Their names defamed the Vision that condemns their souls to hell.

50. Rare Delight

Micro motion mending our divides of thought and peace
Actions weave in wonders from lives both spare and brief.
A billion thoughts refining; one man will never see
A wave both deep and arching directs our destiny.

Tectonic shifts that echo; change that moves towards hope
Tiny fractures that bring healing, enlarging promised scope.
Reflecting light and darkness, catching half built dreams.
The futures still for making and forsaking what demeans.

The onward rush of passion and the subtle lines of time
All of these are written in the frame of the design.
All of us now living, and all of us to be
All of us now dead and gone within the frame of WE.

In incremental anguish and through the pall of night.
Each of us makes choices, bringing grief and rare delight.

51. From Shards to Light - for John Hix

From an insight of convenience they drew marks on shards of clay
The goats and sheep and cheeses thus were counted up each day.
And trader's lives were better, as barter was replaced.
With mites of fired pottery that bore each items face.

The marks and shards were money; more fungible to hold
So trade and space were easier; what was owned was sold.
But then a cunning taker thought to make his own
The shards went out of favor, replacing coin wrot gold

Issued first by temple and then anointed King
So fungible the medium it built a wealth in things.

Accumulation beckoned the greedy onto thrones.
Through money all were shackled, the people could be owned.
A flow of current holdings, in increments of gold
Created flow of currency, and ever more was sold.

Price now marked in shiny bits they trusted not to lie.
But men saw ways of stealing from weight the coins would buy.

So England then replaced them, their coins had reeded edge.
Clipping and the shaving, made obvious instead.

Money called and promised, so fluid in its scope.
Kings and those in power wrote promises on notes.
Temptations to debasement, temptations to inflate.
Became the real foundation of the governmental state.

And money still enticed us, and draws in those who steal.
Finessing, redefining, the units once were real.
Now with no foundation in sheep or even cheese
The money is all funny, and only Kings are pleased.

The flow of human commerce, so easy to abuse.
Is still the form adopted, that all of us must use
We count up paper icons, inscribed with those now gone.
We trust in those who make them, despite the fact their wrong.

We need the fluid functions that money can provide.
While all the self anointed kings count, and so decide.

52. Magic Money

With opinings and definings the presses clack and run
The FED announces numbers that make our minds grow numb.
The complexities of money make thievery a joy
Alan loved the power, Ayn's first money boy.

Its owners, all so nameless, ensure they pump us dry.
By transfers and with interest that makes the widows cry.
And marks on pages tally the figures that expand
As “available for loaning” reaches to the most demand.

From banks and institutions that conspire with the FED
The piles of the dollars shrink and leave us fully bled.
Expanded to a magnitude that boggles those who see
The FED prints funny money, and consumes lives yet to be.

A con game still ongoing, rapacious to consume
Expand supply, disguise the lie, and lead us on to doom.
The flow and flux of money, that eats the truth and land
A set up for a taking we all will understand.

The sound of tiny popping, as price makes its decline
Shrinking all horizons, as interest rates still climb.
A future of our choosing?
A con game finally done?
The final trump infusing
The truth we've been so dumb?

The money game is reaching its final stage of life
Leaving in its passing a people locked in strife.

No. 53 Tension and Ease - for Mary and Joseph Stromberg

The tempo and the tension envelopes every thought
Sound and seething interruptions leave you empty and distraught
The surging tide of living that leaves us less than sane
While we forget to find the silence that cancels out our pain.

The silence caught and carried in the place behind the wind
Excises all the tensions, the place where peace begins
Always there awaiting our need to draw it in.
The Silence, heals us inward, the first and perfect Friend.

When cacaphonies uprising rend the inner peace
In the silence of the windward I go to take my ease.
There, I touch the surety that we will never die.
And shrug off the assumptions that carry fear and lies.

In the Silent place of meeting, behind the sound of Wind.
I wrap myself in raptures that speak the truth of Him.

Fortress Lew

Inside the vault of thinking that that tightens every day
The buttressing of intellect constricts, its price unpaid.
Providing moat and monolith, outside the world careens
And greyness coalesces bringing fear to inner being.

Inside the Fortress Rockwell, ideas grow sparse and thin
The Giants have receded, new chapters can't begin.
The easy way that beckoned was a cul de sac of time
Delightful in its resonance, it justified old crimes.

Inside the sad and lonely, outside the core of truth
Stark and hard the pathway that now his mind must rue.
Evasions come with price tags; demand to be made whole
Count out that truth in coinage that leaves gouges in the soul.

The gold of truth still beckons, to eyes that dare to see
Remember in life's winter you chose this destiny.

Wealth through Stealth

Through monied tones positioned to imply what is not true
The band of Catoed cronies have counted up their due.
They centralized the power selling rhetoric and lies
The cause of freedom canceled for all that money buys.

A home nearby a golf course, the trinkets and delights
An SUV, Ferraris, their luxuries excite.
The shallow married simply to rewrite life anew
So recent from the Ozarks, they gleam with Mountain Dew.

Changing law and custom to suit the Kochs who pay
Their projects kept oncoming causing much dismay
No John Galt imagined the stealthy way they work
Laundering the lucre, just one employment perk.

They saw the future shimmer, their stealth campaigns coining gold
Until one lonely blogger dug in and truth was told.
The HowieDom was outraged, for Heroes don't need rules
Laws are good for other folks, for them they're only tools.

The Blogger came Oregon, dug out their cheats and lies
He published on his blogpage, it could not be denied.
They vilified and sputtered, they ranted and they screamed
The Blogger kept on writing, unwinding every scheme.

Exposed in all their smugness, the myths they lived by shrink
The smallness of their visions would make a cockroach blink.
The Unelected wilted, grew quiet on the web,
Will they find truth as last, when all their lies are said?

Flowers Never Ask or tell. But we do. For Mary and Joe.

Their fragrance speaks its presence, the scent draws life through time
They live in place to propagate, send on their own design.
The generative organs that blossom in the light
Are message of the plant world, saying No to endless night.

That single act of courage that cancels out life's end
The Yes to all tomorrows, the truth that all life sends.
That passage speaks its honor, in acts we understand
And builds the common harbor that binds their lives to Man.

The gatherers were working, the flower caught her eye.
Its beauty made her wonder, she picked and watched it die.
The round of living taught her, the flower came each year.
Each phase, each catch of moment, remembered, not yet clear.

She saw as time brought changes, petals wilted, seed pod swelled.
The seeds, the shoots, the leaves unfurled, the stories all lives tell.
The petals gathered, tasted, the seeds that bring renewal.
Its struggles unrelenting, survival hard and cruel.

The woman heard the flower and understanding what was said.
She learned to reverence living, and all the cycles bred.
The woman told her daughter, showed her what she knew
This the first foretelling that all Earth's lives are true.

Valentines of Memory - Valentine's Day, 2007, for Dawn, Ayn, Arthur, Justin and Abagail.

Embossed on paper posies, the hearts of joyous pause
Remind me of the yesterdays, still able to enthrall.
The tiny hands that labored to cut out paper hearts.
The scrawls that spoke affection; where loving had its start.

I smile to remember the valentines they made
The savored sweets delighted; that sweetness now replayed.
I remember wrapping the tiny, little toys
Laying out surprises so eyes would light with joy.

Across the time and distance,
through months and years compiled
The small delights still linger
To warm me and beguile.

A day of celebration, of love that links our hearts
Exalting and extending the truth we'll never part.

58. Answer to Woven Moments - Written for Paul Schauble

This fractious pause of moment lends us place and time to live
Within the folds of spirit, actions choose what gifts to give.
In structures we assemble from the thoughts life has derived
Is human course and focus wrought, to nurture and surprise.

In tumbled falls of laughter and in silence thin and harsh
Through tumult and in triumph, time holds all in forward march
Towards a distant vision that none of us will see
We, the ones who dream it, ensure that it will be.

The threads within a weaving; the loom a mystery
The spinning done inside of us, to make us truly free
The Weaver knows and smiles for all the dreams are true
Each mote of thread a miracle, ancient and yet new.

One within the Answer we never thought to ask
Together flowing onward, becoming One at last.

The Victory – For Communications

Secure all the conduits through which will flow our thoughts
The pulse of innovation that spurs each time we talk.
The weaving of each echo, the knitting of each meme
Each its own reflection inciting wit most keen.

From facts of nature honing the form that time will hold.
Coalesces all that's borning, as all of us were told.
The ties of truth won't rupture, the lessons long since learned
Become the stone and mortar on which the future turns.

The potter and the chemist, the weaver at her loom
Each a part entoning to blend one arching tune.
The melody evoking the echoes never heard
By ears that miss the magic inside the mote of Word.

The whole symphonic blending that brings the cup of peace.
To lips that taste completion in victory's last release.

60. Crazy to be sane – written for RH

It's happening now

Crazy! That's all they know
Billions of people, the power they own
The matrix they're growing
The slavery their sowing.

Crazy, living off me.

All of us see
The moment we wake
Grids from the cradle
Do nothing but take.

Knowing it drives me
The darkness and fear
I scream as I see it
They laugh and they leer.

Crazy, or maybe I'm sane

Seeing the faces
Inside of the Game
The rage fires action
That burns through the pain

Crazy, or maybe its you

Don't listen to pundits, don't cling to the lies
Their words sell the matrix, install it inside
Clear your mind and you'll see it
Rip the mask off your eyes.

Crazy, no, their words are still lies.

Take back America, hold on to your mind
Live for a future that's loving and kind
Cancel the matrix, scream out your NO!
They all know it coming, they brace for the blow.

Inside there is power, inside of your mind
Refuse to cooperate, refuse to be blind.
Take back your power, unplug from the wall
This is the hour, hear us who call.

Crazy – to keep living that way
We all come together, we smash the machine
Action is justice that changes the scene.

Crazy – to keep living for lies
Crazy – when they're all we despise.
Crazy – when enough realize.
When enough realize.

Crazy to remain insane
Crazy to remain insane.

No. 61 America Needs Ron Paul

Welcome to America enmeshed in fear and greed
Our lives are gone, we're bankrupt
The jobs all overseas.
Privatizing pundits have sold out you and me.
It’s time we had some layoffs in Washington D.C.
No more crooked Congressmen
It’s time to bounce them all
Let’s end the war,
We know the score
America Needs Ron Paul

The corporations fleece us
Of every cent we earn
No end in sight on the horizon
They steal at every turn
The White House and the Media
Sell us lies that never end
Consuming every trust and hope
- We need to start again.

The time has come for changing
Our appointed destiny
Turn back this tide of slavery
- Demand that we be free.

Gonna get back on our feet again,
Back to standing tall
It’s time to climb off of the grids,
America Needs Ron Paul

You know Ron loves America
He spoke out for us all
His courage is his testament
America Needs Ron Paul.

Alone he stood for justice
They called him Dr. NO.
He spoke the words we would not hear
America Needs Ron Paul

Alone he spoke against the war
Demanding we not go
We hear him now , so many dead
America Needs Ron Paul.

When the coffins started coming
We saw that he was right
They sold us all a bill of goods
Endless days of night.

Their boogie man, al Qaeda
To make us fear the dark
Their war machine of profit.
Consuming all we'd start.

Ron will stop the killing
End their flag-wrapped fraud
We'll stop paying Caesar,
But tender unto God
One dime from every dollar
It’s time that we paid less
Cancel form 1040
– and stop the IRS!

No more lying leadership,
Gonna change things in the fall
America’s on a roll again
With the courage of Ron Paul
Back up on our feet again,
Back to standing tall
Together off the Grids of Greed
America needs Ron Paul

Gonna jail the ones who did it
Gonna get them every one.
In the court of truth we'll judge them
With verdict or with gun

Gonna get back on our feet again,
Back to standing tall
Off the grids and on a roll
America has Ron Paul.

62. Punctuated Journey - Clive

As vibrations that remind us of the place we yearn to be
We clasp the measured moments that become our destiny.
The touches that awaken the best we find within.
Become the gifts of living, allowing us to blend.

Through our anguish and our rages, through the grinding down of pain
Through discernment and through tempering we discover we are sane.
Most calculated tortures become the challenge that can heal
As life takes on its burnish and makes our living real.

We sense a presence beckoning, the silence yet to be.
Arms that hold and comfort, locked in and always free.
The path is often rocky, the shards can slash our skin
But on the Path we find ourselves, know the pain will end.

Inside the journey calls us to love and never fear
Sensing as love warms us that death is always near
The change from bodied being to freedom of the soul
The journeys ever onward remain both goad and goal

Sublime the raptured joining within God's only Son
Intensity in moments that remind us all are One.

63. New Beginnings

Our framing is illusion that we blend from mind borne dreams
No part of human action is therefore as it seems.
Anchored in the mystic that twines itself through life
We blend in every moment, all our joy and endless strife.

The clan, the tribe, the nation, the church we use to pray
Each of these illusion, so we can live each day.
The framing, once agreed on, becomes like tempered steel
So changing it is costly, each increment, ordeal

Constricting structures comfort, can maim and also heal

But none have true existence, none of them are real.
Reach out to what is fluid, touch what brings you joy.
The framing we call Freedom, is soul and mind alloyed.

And revolution calls you to risk while still you can
To find the true connections that made us truly Man.

ZenLibertarianism

All of life is weaving, its beauties, subtle, teach.

Each nuance holds an echo of what we've yet to reach.

Our path, not straight or narrow, the future, dim, unseen.

My steps remember yesterdays, both honored and demeaned.

And words, they can connect us, or shred all hope of peace.

Incite and also cage us; they limit and release.

All the words constructed to stretch our scope of mind

Echoes of the vision that, embraced, will make us kind.

First Violet Series - Written for Remembrance

2005-05-31T09:34:00.000-07:00

Violet Series – Finished May 1, 2005 at 8:55 a.m. PST while living in Alpharetta. Georgia

No. 1 In Deep Born Earth

Carried in minds that harbored hope and imaged gleanings
To caverned, hollowed voids that yielded touch of fingered musings.
Deep within
The womb of Earth received our thoughts, on stone page wrought
Welcomed Child, home again.

They spoke in coloured images that voiced their souls first pleadings.
To Mother Earth they carried faces bowed and dumb.
In awe their minds made ritualed journeys into the place beyond the sun.

In cold locked stone they wrote the first unspoken words that granted thought
In time locked heedings.
In sacred red, and brown and black and dun.
Their inner course of life borne needings
In silence spoke with majesty of stark writ keenings

Beyond the cradled edge of seasoned day they paid homage to a future unseen
but full of meanings.
Gravid with the promise, locked in mind
They stroked the stone cold skin of Earth
and wrought a world that spoke their
hungry search for thought divine.

Evoking magic presences that summoned worlds beyond their minds.
A reach into the unseen places deep within
They painted stone with awe owned hopes
Spoke of death and birth and bellied hungers quenched as life continued and consumed
The slimmest margined edge of well fed days
Stored against the emptied stomachs that compelled the learning of new ways.

So grace was first evoked.
And human travels launched through time
To touch us here and lead us back through eons winnowed, filled, and thus sublime.

No. 2 Untrue Reflections

In time stroked Tides of restless days
Eyes see structures of the mind
Their unexistance, unknown, defrays
The anguish that lurks in God's design

Unmade memories that lie
Unfounded truths that suck us dry
Uncherished children born to die
Unlived days that Time denies.

A vanished dream that never was
A rush to find the edge of mind
Consumes the fall of sideways trust
Ashes made from ancient dust.

Nilistic pleadings drain
The cherished source of human pain.

Aching anguish proves we live
Even when we've naught to give

Our pain is pleasure in the void
When mind- made spirit is undeployed.

So grace was first evoked.
And human travels launched through time
To touch us here and lead us back through eons winnowed, filled, and thus sublime.

No. 3 Cusp

Imagined place of reredemption
You beckon me with echoed promises of what is lost
Beyond the pall of hope and dust

This place of pause owned cusp
A breath long pausing in a journey, womb to tomb
Fulcrum of the future, be it paradise or doom.

A place of summing, crystallized and clear
Where silence touches home and removes the source of fear.

No. 4 Pardon

Pardon given to amend injustices of fact and law
Discretion given, trust imbued
Into an office and a man

Nuance (March 19, 2001)

Within a pause of nuance where the lights are low and dim
I speak the words of inference that glow with thoughts most grim.
The cherished hopes of honor removed by what eyes see
Remake the shape of covenants, unconsidered by those unfree.

I managed to remember the source of undone dreams
And banished all the feckless acts that bore one destiny
Managed magic, cognite facts,
Remakes the future through rethought acts
Unseen the source of what is real
But true are thoughts to time honed steel.

Thus nuanced changes come through time
To banish cultures lost as crimes.

Oblivion remaindered into time.

Incised oblivion.
Reminded tiny cuts that sutured pain
redressing all the forces that rely on unmade gains.
Remandered applications that survive the edges: never sane.

The memory of love
Incredible, removed, disturbed, enforced by hands that found communion in the place of tempered sanction, replaced and then removed.
Love. Proof against the calumny of thought without reproof.
Still aloof.
But harboring the savaged need; a barricade of edged proof.

No. 5 A Fine and Cherished Grieving

When time is spun, through threads both fine and lightly trimmed
I blend the thoughts that cling to mind
Nowhere sought but owned through course of destiny
Removed by shadowed ages; borne in time.

In sanctuaried places and in neuologic condimented increments
Nuanced sureties release the echoing of thought
Distilled and tasted with the rites of passage dearly bought
In currencies of tears and languishing of years.

A baby stilled against a breast; milk filled throbbing that loving will attest
To still all hope; reminding emptiness is waged in place of scope
Surcease of love. Releasing death to wage its war.
The marks of Cain cuts cords of all reward.

Speak removes of heart and mind
All one; all lost; all one kind.

No. 6 The Tannin Taste of Undone Trust

Trust ungiven lances pulsing boils ripe with angered grieving
The ties are cut.
To leave the opened wounds that knot my gut.

I need to cut off trust
Need to leave the monument of hopeful thoughts to gather dust
Refine the first and last of human’s first design.
For trust to early given is a thing that steals and binds.

When and where did anguish breed?
How did hope commit its folly
When did nature disagree
To touch the ragged edges seared by something less that truth?

In place of unkind making that inclines my mind to rue
All human touch.

No. 7 What You Cannot See

Unseen truths; sightless acts
Refine and still the thrust of facts
For unseen reverberations make
Our futured realm without mistake.

You cannot hide the truth forever
The Truth is Justice’s one sure lever.

Lies distort, give life to greeds
And implement our passions needs
Lies will try to remake the world
Turning sows ears into pearls.

But soon or later lies wear out
Leaving Truth untouched by doubt

So eyes see through the falsity
And justice wins its amnesty.

For lusts and fraud and violent acts
Abuses borne in shadowed homes
Stole the right to even mourn.

So Ugliness has short reprieve

The ugliness is there to see
The twisted lusts, the vanity.

The coarse and raddled grasping hands
That set in motion Demoned plans

Will be revealed for all to see
Thus making victims whole and free.

No. 8 The Unseen Course of Fate

The scarcely ventured, just begun
The unremitted and unsung.

(Written for Brent in the Morning)

Rampant ribbons tear the breeze
invisible skin of wind that bleeds
Out sounds dismayed, oncoming tides
of years and seasons newly died.

Autumnal fragrances, days grown cold
Promise life continues, holds
The winter's end long vise in Spring
Symbolled life rethought to bring.

Redeemed, unburdened, grace-borne dreams
That speak becomings to all things.
In winter-mottled leaves gone grey
Thoughts continue, fears allay.

In Time our thoughts remove all grief
Giving each its perfect peace.

No. 9 Return from Anguish

Voids of silence,
deep unbottomed vastness that denies
the breadth and depth of grief.
Echoed, airless phantasm where my soul could find no peace.

This, the place of evilled keep
That binds out hope, and life most sweet.

A place where I lingered in a state more drug than sleep.
Now a memory of futile longings, replaced by lightened vows.
Juncture found; that then, this now.

Now,
Beginnings wrung from whispered threads of chambered thoughts,
I grasped for them when sanity pulsed low and oh so thin.
I fed my hope on memories.
Rescued degrees of longed for intimacies.
Soul-fed touches; glimpsed insight; each of these had bred delight
Reminding me that narrowed paths through unfurrowed time
Hold potentials most sublime.
Deep in challenge; Breeding up my couraged will
To walk the path that's never still.

No. 10 Motion, Mind, and Muse

Incoming tides of ancient thought
revealed from motion, mind and muse
Create an opulence uncontrived
in steel toned truth from us concealed.

In us the future gestated; borne
consuming hours, days and sums
Contrives events that onward come
to fracture what our fears denied.

Majestic coming into sight
the turgid expectations still
Phoenix of the flames reborn
unmutes the tongues of couraged drives.

The median; forgotten shell
Astonished bridge that glows with light
Spins out dreams of finest gold
Illuminating edges of delight.

Finite Man with finite dreams
Conquers what's never really seen.

No. 11 Clash of Touch

Unbridled touches that exhume
delights consumed by dust and grief
Skin resumes its vibrant coils
Canceling pain; surceased beliefs.

Unwinding time that pulses, runs
inside the spirit, matrixed minds
Laughter ripples, lifts all eyes
to sights unseen by light of Sun.

Unrelenting, journeyed path
that teaches each the cut of rules
while bowed head signals not defeat
but promise of unbound renewal.

Challenged coming into Sight
The inkling of what Mind ignites.

No. 12 The Touch of Thought

Mind’s touch.
Encompassing a hundred thoughts of cognite lust.
Reminded needs
Inside the dendrilled compass that subsumes all human greeds

I touched your memory
Sighed in vanished musing and resided in the cusp of choosings.

Singular vanity
I forgot to misremember a more immediate edge of sanity.

Miracles

A different view admits the light
that culls out structures that can blight
The true dimensions of human sight
Keeping us from real delight.

Miracle

Reseen, revisited and thus known
The source of anguish, life and tones
That chord and blend the notes and joys
That internal truths can redeploy.

Miracles.

Light molded dances, owned and touched
Nuances of what was not.
Soul to soul they are the tongues
That give flight to things begun

Miracles.

Sighting of a world unseen
That Illuminates all that we can mean.

No. 13 Formulas for Rage

Explosions of discomfort that illuminate the dark
Release the mind to chaos with reproaches, crude and stark.

I gasp at the dimensions of a world I failed to see
And shudder at the images that bind that place to me.

Electric all the poses that redefine and speak
The untold cords of causing that commit me to belief.

The threads of other making realign what is not real.
Impacting understanding and the ground I did not feel.

So feet will refind landing and my mind with let in thought.
As the last of will commanding reboots and then restarts.

No. 14 Graphic Voice

With the trembled tones of dying that cancel out remorse
The pause of tongues done lying chokes the path of wrong discourse.

Evoking thoughts unmentioned to the touch of living day
The tip of their intention stills the hopes that mask dismay.

Cerebral their invoking of a future lost and gone
The pain of losses summing will spill out inside a song.

Ripped from places unconsidered lit inside the heart of wrong
The melody and timbre will still echo light and strong.

Reminding every listener of worlds now passed away
The long cold void breeds clarity as living goes astray.

Look inward to the surety; the gift that can’t be lost.
Live true inside your conscience and never count the cost.

No. 15 Honor and Old Friends (dedicated to Jack Dean and others unnamed.)

In the boiled shades of evening then the light is turned down low
I revisit with new knowledge all the things I thought were so.
The view of human honor is different in that light
It reveals the truth worn hollows, picking out what was not right.

Sharp pangs and integration using facts dear bought with time
Emerged exasperation with deceptions most unkind.
In that choice comtemplate of honor I recuse the might have beens.
And sometimes in that clarity I view dishonored friends.

I forgive the saddest tragic that I see in close wrought lives.
While I reject the wrong and ugly of the actions I despise.
Do right when all is hopeless, do right when life is fine
Do right to high and low degree; for honor must be kind.

When the takings and the makings distort, enmesh and bend
Other lives with machinations that sheer, abort and rend
Reparations are the actions we must take to made amends.

Admission of the failings is the first step on a path
For truth, the light of honor brings justice, first and last.
This, forgotten template that I hope you soon will grasp.

No. 16 The Logic of Empire (With thanks to Robert Heinlein)

There is logic in the takings that enable them to steal.
They use the forms respected to excise the things most real.
Through the magic transformation that turns gold to leaden dross
Through percentaged incrementals are our hopes thus gone and lost.

The promises are never meant to do more than generate some cash
The fool’s gold of freedom that though lovely cannot last.
Campaigns start with trumpets and whimper out too soon
You give your donors nothing after promising the moon.

Opining of the needings and the pleadings and our rights.
The fierce machine of takings continues every day its tryst
With special projects paying up and down and right and left
To stop and intervene, debase, where truth once did its best.

To the tiny lives of workers, to the highest and the just.
The rending and condemning continues on with scouraging lust.
Accepting in the forms that their opinions give them weight
The holders of the power ‘know best’ beyond debate.

The mailings keep on coming with their bullets bright and sharp
A rhetoric of dunning to ensure the checks will start
A rhetoric assembled to resemble what is true.
And to part us from our money and from what we thought we knew.

Oh, the logic of the government writ small, rapacious feeds
And in this Ponzied con game will Freedom stop and bleed?
Will the unscrupulous and the agile with word and wit win through?
Or will we wise up and stop them, the ones we thought we knew?

The questions still unanswered hang in breath of time
And the slow dripping of those answers paint truths that are unkind.
The heroes were all human and we need to learn the rule.
Hold them to their promises or fire all the fools.

No. 17 The Predator (dedicated to Michael Emerling Cloud)

The hooded eyes intelligent, assessing and unfed
Taste the likelihood of meat to be found, brought down and dressed.
But the eyes have human contours and the face is human born
Predators walk among us, their identities deeply worn.

Their goals are sex and power; all forms of human wealth.
Their means are fraud and violence and every form of stealth.
They smile, use charisma; they milk cajole and bleed.
Their goals: enjoy and prosper, make sure they’re first to feed.

They choose the weak and needy; they use our trust and minds.
They speak the rhetoric of honor to carry out their crimes.
They insinuate with widows and they take a cripple’s time.
They use the rhetoric of honor to pad their bottom line.

You find them selling cars and you meet them down the block.
They smile and drip charisma as they grimace, share and talk.
But their eye is on the income and their hand is in your purse
They will slander and defame you if it isn’t something worse.

But real humans have the power to remove the jungle’s maw.
The predators of the hour can be reformed through rethought law.
Reform the standards for deception; so the weak can see wrongs called.
Eliminate exceptions that allow abuse, misuse and fraud.

The statute is the enemy of freedom and the truth
The common law is justice that conforms to honor’s roots.
The predators live in darkness; their acts must not being seen
For what they do is ugly and the light defines their being.

I see a world a-borning where truth is not disgrace
Where children know that human is the world behind the face
Oh, the futured world of human promise, where doing right is safe.
A world of commerce and of honor; a place for human grace.

No. 18 Predatory Power (Dedicated to John Fund)

The truth can free your anguish and reform distorted souls
He spoke these righteous wordings, citing them as goals.
But his own life: don’t examine; and his own goals twist and bend
His inconsistencies need detection and his soul must learn to mend.

He walks the halls of power and he uses all the perks
He fondles and employs them; feeding all his quirks.
He insinuates in private and in public he travails.
Emoting standards and conditions that in his own life don’t prevail.

Oh, the truth can free your conscience and the truth will still all lies
But power used instead of truth is the ugliest disguise.
Pretense and the editing of your own life kills your soul.
And maintaining double standards, private; public, takes it toll.

The lives and eyes that trusted; saw a hero and a friend
The power that you wield for self was given you to mend.
Power misused destroys us, there our trust must die.
The truth abused and used for gain is just another lie.

The Truth can set your vision free: the truth makes justice right.
The truth is all and nothing; it is reliance and the Light.
The truth is what you take to God to show how you lived your life.
The truth is sharp and unrelenting in the void of that long night.

So remember in that long quiet, when lies curl in on you.
One Someone knows the sources and remembers what is true.

No. 19 Political Infractions (Ode to the SPT)

“We hold these truths self evident,” is engraved inside our minds
“All Men created equal,” speaks the vision there enshrined.
So we struggle and we anguish and we stumble towards the goal
And you tell me that the SPT will make that future whole?

Like a hamster hunting nuggets that remain just out of reach
We scamper and we tunnel; at our backs there looms defeat.
For the SPT is circular, just like the cage we tread
We'll donate and we'll donate, until our hopes are dead.

Oh, the SPT is verity; its wisdom of a kind.
The kind from all committees; the stupid and the blind.
It’s the sort of introspection that confirms what didn't work.
But the fun of its creation was just one employment perk.

The history of the Party we've glossed over and ignored.
What can you learn from history? The donors would be bored.
More fun to retread wish-lists; better to reprise.
This exciting science fiction in a shiny brand new guise.

The Strategic Planning Taskforce: a stalwart band of minds
Who nodded, wished and discoursed through comments unrefined.
That most sung band of heroes who risked life and limb to write.
A tome of monumental exhort telling others what is right.

Recycling is appropriate and politically correct
It’s also so much easier to fundraise than elect.
For candidates who triumph have expectations and demands
And members and our donors might start to understand.

The SPT is wonderful; its long and printed well
It speaks the tongue evasive and it confines our hopes to hell.
The SPT is callow; and it sings the song intense.
It is everything to no one; so it does make perfect sense.

To a clutch of unelected; to a flock without a clue.
It’s painful and it’s obvious what they thought we never knew.
But politics is verity and savants see the light.
And freedom has its rhetoric; its illogic that we fight.

History has a pattern, and a logic, formed in truth and will
We live within its covenant; redefining those words still.
Thomas Jefferson wrote his wisdom in few words that engage
That Soul of revolution would understand the war we wage.

“…whenever any form of government becomes destructive to those ends,
it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it…”

Revolution is the method; the place is set in time.
SPT the pattern? Is this a joke or crime?
Are we really stupid? Do we deserve the rule we've seen?
If so, the futures futile; if not wipe all slates clean.

So come to Indiana in the summer of next year.
And take the problematic and remake our course most dear.
Take the words of Jefferson; apply to local ends.
The vision still is Freedom; let Freedom finally win.

No. 20 Crimson Blossoms Sheer and Rend

Crimson Roses rent the sky; bringing down the autumn sun.
Fracturing the pillared towers;
Sudden death writ red as flowers.

My mind arrested; could not accept, the changes sudden that deformed
The world I knew was shattered there, inside an autumn newly born.

The scenes surreal, the tears, the shock; the frantic search for those we love.
Trembled tones and dust choked eyes.
The fall of towers from the sky.

Deforming march of memories, rescinding tones of history.
From shock surrendered; steel bent scope.
Was reborn the edge of hope.

Courage spent; heart hopes own gift; lives to save mean more than risk.
A shroud of dust that cloaked the sky
A cloak of courage death denied.

A thousand little moments bled, in mind made journey, griefs unsaid.
And human actions touched each mind.
Tiny echoes of the divine.

Erupting roses burned our eyes, remaking worlds we did not see.
Recasting our unthought beliefs; replacing them with soul seared grief.

Transforming death; unbending love; the unreflected will to hope.
These the gifts that roses brought to worlds that need to find new scope.

No. 21 The Price of Honor

No insulation numbs the pain erupting in your heart.
Not time, not tears not passaged years erases loss so sharp

The breath comes hard and grevious slow a constant wrenching ache.
. For none can mend where no amend is made for honor’s sake.

Fragile thing of human thought that speaks the tones of trust
Human acts mint mind and facts to mold a form so just.

Honor.

Forged in conscience, writ most clear, a couraged striving honed on pain
Life itself may be the wage charged against its absent stains.

For clarity in sight and thought are needed to paint courses straight
Against the ease of greedy needs honor’s fabric warps and breaks.

Remember when temptation looms and promises all gifts most dear
The loss of honor rends your soul, leaving empty words and fear.

No. 22 Eloquent Desire

The skin speaks truths the mind would hide
Conversant with the deepest tides
That flow and eddy down inside
The places where our soul resides.

Soul deep truths direct our lives
Conforming routes, unspoken guides
To sequestered hopes that still abide
When reason tells us they have died.

A covenant of striving drives
Raptured needing; not quite lies
That push the outer edge of time.
Into places nearer the divine.

No. 23. Birthday thanks to Priscilla

Magic moments tantalize
Laughter lingers on our lips
Life, the one sure joy we taste
Friendship, the best life-long gift.

No. 24 Birth Formed Linkings

Wombward on from source of time the flowering of joy bent thought
Remembers linkings back through life
Mothered moments; joy and strife.

The will to nurture, hold and love
Incites the fierceness of the dove.

Babies change the text and shift desire
Replenishing the inner fires.

I peer through shrouded, chance born acts
That drove us on to sparse becomings
Cojoining lives through birth hard facts

That make the world this morning’s summoned

Chance born.
Joined through pulsing cords of life.
Unsevered even by the knife.

Milk toned memories revere, the unseen wombs that brought me here.

No. 25 Pulse

The constant unread singing of the life beneath my dreams
Is the metronome of linking summing all still yet to be.
I hear its magic strumming as the surety unthought
Never questioning becomings that all lives together wrought.

A lullaby remembered from the darkness of the womb
It’s faint and burning embers throb even as death looms.
Directing and electing the unthought part of Mind
The pulse, unintellected, remains foundational design.

I snug into the blankets and take comfort from its song
With counterpoints selected outside all right and wrong.
The castings from the past, elastic compass yet to be
Give weight to choice from unheard voice
And form to mystery.

Oh, through censoring of silence, a concert inward plays
The conductor and composer balance all that life displays
And we all go on unhearing, oblivious that we
Are instruments and musicians in a global symphony.

No. 26 Seeds of Hope

The commerce of renewal that contends with voids of dark
An elegant refuel that supplies all forward sparks
Life is struggle and its needing and its summing leaves its mark
In autumns fierce abundance is its power writ most stark.

The seeds of future living; in gestational increase
The simple and the complex continue on their breeds
Explosions that remember that disasters are the rule
Multitudes are winnowed through the classes of Earth’s school.

Species die unnumbered; their niches filled and gone
Time, the Teacher’s lesson plan, marks them down as wrong
The cycles within living use both animus and greed
What works is right and proper that species strong will breed.

In the face of human congress; in economies of scale.
The fate of one lone person wanes, lost, within the pale.
But exceptions reform rules that were forged when Earth was young
Human action; mind wrought sanction; is a chord yet to be sung.

The beginnings we see dimly through the haze of unmade time
The course of living speaks to us, misunderstood, divine.
The Now a mottled mixture, repeating, arching, waves
Beyond control of Nature because Mind has come to play.

Oh, the autumn speaks eternal and the Human has its goals
The spirit is renewal; the seeds of Mind to grow.
A harvest prime and sovereign, misunderstood by men.
Balancing and knowing, the essence of Amen.

No. 27 Life Recycled

By the millstones now circumferenced in the untold times between
We remember what is sorted through the patterns of our dreams
We condense, reform and conscience all the places born in thought
While we rationalize the structures that elsewise would hold doubt.

Oh, the mind of Man remembers more than is comfortable to know
And that intersect of knowledge denies what must be so.
So we refract the wings of certainty, devise new fields of truth
To comfort what is raw and red, born in acts of youth.

The laughter doles and dribbles from a place most sparse within
While fear and drear redolent, draw life out most gaunt and thin
To remind the source of making and the hand of takings truth
So that this, the soul’s first waking might by wisdom be imbued.

I have tarried in the trumbull; I have gazed with unseeing eyes
I have whispered in the echoes of a fortune in disguise
But before the very thought of aching need was truly born
The condiments of knowing were dry from womb well born.

So remember in the embers of a place where none may go
Are the fractures of the passions that delight and also own
Because shadows touch beginnings as they coddle our designs
Through unvarnished endings of the place inside our minds.

No. 28 Human Devising

With form and structures magic and from constructs of the mind
Are built the monuments of ages that hold thought and place divine.
Human made of mind-told musings they matrix, weave, concourse, and blend
And into place of human action they bring our hope and human ends.

Our beginning lost in silence and the future, unseen trust
The source of our devising binds the two as time adjusts
For the echoes of all history is the unremembered source
And the fractures caused by violence is just the easiest recourse.

In the forms within the possible, an unfound choice still waits
Rejecting blood and death recusing it remains the truest fate.
And as the human mind considers what steps are still untrod
The hope of peaceful commerce is still the unseen face of God.

No. 29 For Jimmy

Bright memories that turn back time, elected laughter, twists sublime
Refracted images abound, reliving moments most profound.
As ginger waifed and sunlight tarried, I got to know the prince of Faeries.
A truly honest human child, who saw through artifice and guile.

He spoke in tones of love warmed truth, confiding heart owned magnitudes
He lead a tiny cadred troop of puppet folk who spoke his truths.
He considered deeply in quiet pause, to test the truth of human laws.
He knew the quiet place within, admitted few as Silent friends.

From childhood his world was made, ensuing tides of time displayed
Portraying worlds that could not be, inciting imaged destinies
Lighting truths distilled from life, sure and vivid imaged strife.
The Prince of worlds we’ll never see, the soul of Jimmy; always free.

No. 30 Unhallowed Needings

When repression undermines your thoughts and breeds the unmade age’s course
When action, dissolute unmaker, takes the grief that knows its taker
When nothing touches skin make speech, and peace is something you can’t reach
When hollowed, emptied ungrieved ages, empties out the minds first wages

The past is flat, divining sage, this unmade hope defines life’s wage.
In this scant moment, the unbegun,
Remember this, the time unwon.
Remember flowers yet to bloom
Remember infants in the womb.
Remember all things yet to be.
Remember then the thought of me.

Touch and taste the untried truth, unsummoned sanction unbegun.
The jasmined scent of love is there
Beyond the increment of filtered air.

In that place of unopened eyes, the source of you can still grow wise.

No. 31 Glorious Desire

When wrists brush stroking hairs that tremble gold
And skin alights with thoughts igniting untold needings
I remember you, untasted pleasure, folding into times untold.
Long past thwarted achings, and soft spoke pleadings.

I remember.

Heated hankerings that still consume chance ignited embers.

Never lost in time; untouched memories that sustain, remain and still incline.
A part and caused intention that repeats what is not crime.
But incites delights retold in languid tempers.
Insulated memories that still and will remember.

Consuming heat.
Delights that summoned mind and motion; displayed complete devotion
Votive flames that spoke emotions
That distilled, excised, denied, concealed.
The true evoking of my will.
Waiting spoken words unthought but not also unrevealed.

And the needings come unending, as the waves of untold pleadings
Course, exhort, remake and tease me, from the place that never pleased me.
To remake, retake and seize me.

All the moments unforsaken, that display, entice and lace me
To the unremarked but well told ecstasies.

That hammer stark contingencies.

No love but only needings that still stark must own their cedings.
Please release, consume and please me.
Please me,
Please me.

Please. Me.
In simple instance, ease me.

No. 32 Choice and Freedom

When breath seems bound by bands of fear
Then life condenses, hopes congeal.
And in the sudden pause of time
You see a choice that clears your mind

A choice that eases bands of dread
Giving leave to tears unshed
Promises that hope remains
Choice elected makes you sane.

Perhaps you doubted, questioned, paused
Considered vacuums in the law.
But heard the howled wolves on coming
Giving you scant time for running

This, the choice, confronted, seized
Someplace between nightmare and dream.
Perhaps you wanted health and hope.
Maybe wealth beyond your scope.

Maybe you professed your rights
While human agents denied you sight
Of choices, futures, born in your mind
Delusions of the freedom kind.

Past boundaries of State and law
You might have snuck in mindful awe
To witness what you never knew
Promises of life renewed.

In chance found whims that turn on fate
We see the promise; life rebates
We plan and scheme, and hoard our wages
That life might lead to higher stages.

These. The choices freedom lends
When couraged premises amend.

No. 33 The Snow Plant

In scarlet trendiled, coiled growth,
The snow plant, quiet, needs no hope.
It thrusts past earth and into sky
To live without the need of ‘why.’

It’s beauties curl, surreal small plant
In white and red its needs are scant.
It summons life from soil and air
And never knows the least despair.

Most rare and unexpected sight
Evoking laughter and delight.

No. 34 Journey

The pads of feet I trod are souls
They touch the surface and move on
The path they follow, no one knows
But walking makes them sure and strong.

Mostly I ignore their thoughts
Discount the prickling, stones and grass
Mostly I hear minded doubts
That focus first on what came last.

Embodied echoes of unseen lives
Each becoming ages long in rifts and strife.
And feet still feel, alive, aware
Unrestless servants, always there.

The souls of feet, the seat of mind
Divisions in the core of kind
Or unities that also bind.

No. 35 Unwelcomed Recognition

Delusions, soft and downy couch
The wishes that reject true doubt.
Myopic glaze will find chagrin
When even blindest hope grows thin.

This, the frigid blast of sight
That turns complacency to fright.
Devolution of life’s plan
Beginning in the truth of Man.

Love, hormonal vestal voyage
That sinks from sight as life deploys
The effervescent, waking sights
That render fat and melt in light.

Iridescent beauty that time forsakes
Loves a bubble, bound to break

No. 36 Solitude and Solace

When parts don’t fit
When means come plain
When overflows of love bring pain.

Pain is not the stuff of life
The ordinary emollient, found
When eyes and lips become unbound

The smiled absence is joyous sound.

No. 37 Remembered Cup

I heard the voices in the rocks;
water falling from great height
Laughter, chatter, lifted lives
The Waterfall still speaks delight.

Over rounded stones and trees
Fallen from the upstream sides
I could, if still recall the tones
Of children seeing things lost from sight.

I heard my father, not yet ten
Grown fearless in the Cup of Peace
Running through the meadowed world
That small forever, his to keep

I heard their certainties grown strong
Ventured hopes now lost in years
Rushed with gratitude for their joy
And grieved for echoes of those years.

I stood there, watching water fall
From heights and places removed and steep
Amazed at what our lives can keep
Through memories of hard won peace.

The Cup of Peace that healed their souls
Removed the wounds of life undone
Warmed their spirits with spirit’s sun
Restarted songs still yet unsung.

I watched the water falling free
And saw a world still yet to be.

No. 38 Amended Destiny

When breath comes harsh and throat constricts
And time removed returns and sticks
Within the craw, impeding time
This echoed place is God’s design.

Remembered days intrude to speak
The untold tellings that hid from light
And touch the unhealed wounds compelling
The soul to seek its former dwelling.

Return forgotten angers, aches
Return the sacrifice of life
Return the death that formulates
The world becoming One divine.

Amended thoughts stretched long and true
Amended memories renewed.
Amended grief for all I knew
Reborn to thought; minds blending new.

Amended destinies breed true.
Tomorrow made from One I knew.

No. 39 Course Set

The details tumbled through many minds
That taste, construe the best designs
Compared and weighed the image clears
Through solemn murmurs of years and tears

A course of poignant, burnished making
The cost of which forbids forsaking.

Caballed yesterdays replayed
in lands that never saw them made
Unrelenting paths in time
That speak of agonies – yours and mine.

Set course in harmonies that play
Within the light writ large and grave
Set course that grinds our lives to dust
Destroying both gratitude and lust.

Set courses that defy just ends
Set courses that distort and bend
Set courses that unmake my lives
Reproving choices long denied.

A course reset through eyes that see
The full cost paid to destiny.

No. 40 The Winter

The Winter turned from night and cold
The pause of change hung in the air
Blending flakes of snow with anchored stone
The bones of Earth ignore despair.

The geologic pace of time
Reproves the anguish in human minds

The Winter seasons, kills, amends
That Spring might breed its next of kin
Allowing Summer to nourish change
And Fall to harvest life’s true wage.

The unrelenting flow of life
Both cancels out and speaks our strife.

The Seasons, times of human telling
The harbor of our human dwelling
The metronome that marks the year
With colors, fragrances and fear

Still touches us in every cell
Alive in ways we cannot see
Strategic comings that let us be
And grant hope to hold our destiny.

No. 41 Calls in the Unbottomed Night

Summoned from uneasy sleep to hear the tones of anguished fear
I wake again to Mother’s worries.
Familiar place, uncounted flurries.

Her voice was shaken, and I knew
Her pain held needs my words could ease
From miles distant love speaks true.

Now I wander through the house
Lighting here, a moment spent
To speak my fears for child’s life
Into cybered place that holds my pain.

Motherhood that ranges life
Subsumes the gravid and the grief.
Mends all tears with hugs encompassed
All fears rescinded on magic knees.

Testing places in our souls
Stretching us to forward reach
Amending preconceptions born
From thoughts untouched by life’s true griefs.

I sit and wait for time to start, the phone to ring and ease my heart
I wait to hear that all is well, I pray into a darkened void
To still the bindings sealed forever
That nothing ugly can rend or sever.
Mothering, the unpaid vocation, allowing for no ungraved cessation.

A voice through space that wakes my prayers
And takes me there to share despair.

No. 42 Rewrite of Jasmine 6 for today, April 19, 2002
To Save Mankind

We cannot change the leaders, they're lost in dreams of power
We cannot change or rearrange our history's sullen hours
We cannot use their self same tools without becoming them
We cannot do
and we cannot
retreat without amend.

The nots are many, often tried, marches, starving, asking why?
Begging that the war should end, refusing service, money, men.

All these means we have employed, to end the tide of unjust wars
Now we need another way, to bind the wounds that rend and slay
We need to take back all the power
Every second, minute, hour.

We to redeploy our inner power, rethink the course of history
Reclaim abandoned destiny.

We are not owned, but sovereign souls
Free to find undreamed of goals.
The vagrant might of those who rule
Must be challenged, changed, untooled.
Each of us has been misused.
Each of us, must now rechoose.

If we say that we cannot
If we give in, relinquish what we sought
If we excuse because we need
Savage others with our greeds
Heed our fears and not our dreams
Dreams will die unknown, unseen.

If we don't live the largest dreams
That misted glimpse of what life means
Do not find the place within
Where dreams all meet and know they're kin.
If we do not, give not, comply
Need we ask the reason why
Our core, our essence, had to die?

A world that shimmers, lives and breathes
A world united in One Dream
One living mind-spun long beginning
That, horizoned point that beckons, grinning.

Tempestuous and untried hearts
That doubt your power, please own and start
Become the living will sublime
And in this way become divine.

No. 43 First Plan

I walk into a past forgotten, see with eyes that understand
The pain is muted, nightmares slumber.
Comprehension clears the Mind’s first plan.

I learn to trust the faith unmentioned, learn to hear unspoken words
Study text in life forsaken
Dispassion wakened, owned and true.

This cusp of ancient making owns me
Drew me on through shrouds of time
Excised and tutored shells to hold me
Taught me lessons most sublime.

Laughter fills me, promise echoes
Gifts forsaken fill with joy.
Love the harbor now retaken.
Love the tool now employed.

No. 44 Fear

I listen to her breath so muted
As she slumbers on the couch.
Count up minutes as they vanish
Weight up both promises and doubt.

Will time unwind as once was promised?
Will harbors open up to keep?
Will Mother-arms confine or save her?
Will Mother Love relieve her grief?

I live the fear of Mother waiting
I watch and listen, hope and trust
I try to know before it happens
Try to cherish and be just.

I listen to your breath intaken.
Wonder at her restless dreams.
Worry, watch, my sleep forsaken.
Know that friends aren’t as they seem.

A world that eats a child’s heart
Does not deserve to see life start.

(Thoughts on leaving NY and a most fragile child much loved.)

No. 45 Response.

All the boxes artificial, all the premises absurd
The form of human living is inside the cusp of Word.

Laughter winnows anguish and redefines the Path
As onward we all blunder with reason as our Staff.

Eyes see and move on blinded to the fragile mist of Truth.
While perceptions that are dying struggle with the new born eyes of youth.

All the colors come up white and black as absolutes disclose.
That humanity is chaos, a free-form Spirit no one knows.

No. 46 Second Response

Yes. I think life into forms sublime,
redefine and retrofit
with curried thought and winnowed wit.

I listen to the unspoken words
that screech and cackle,
trill like birds.

I choose to live the life intense.
To me that makes most perfect sense.

A stupid heart; a too smart head
Can leave the soul most nearly dead.

While one instructs its bodied mate.
To summon rapture and elate.

The other groans and drags its feet.
Life unlived, is sure defeat.

And still I summon and employ
Intensity that can annoy.

Laughter trickles, falls and speaks.
Against the faults that make us weak.

Do I feel lucky?
Yes, I do.
The unasked question is - do you?

No. 47 Survival

Survival

Source of visions that peels back grief, flash of ecstasy all too brief.
Hope unfurled to pristine winds
That calls the soul and knits amends.
In minutes, moments, flashes seen, the truth of living builds our dreams.
Instructs our souls in joy-born musings, that misunderstood can be confusing.

Raptured moments flush out lies; those truth restatings that gods despise.

Surviving showed our misspent hours; anoints the soul with redeemed fires.
Survival is the only test to which any answer made is Yes.

No. 48 Unmade Dreams

In unmentioned carverned musings I reflect on unmade dreams
My internal introspection cannot mask the heat made seams
That pull and strain the holdings of the vanished source of lust
I count untasted pleasures now faded shades of rust.

The ticking on of hours that bring on horizons holding death
Grow louder with the metronome that whispers my distress.
And the tones grow loud and raucous and deliver up their lies
Because dreams deliver power and only lies will die.

The human part of hero speaks the fumblings of age
While the spirit all internal sees past the end of days.

So I listen to the monuments constructed by design
And know that all our follies will falter and decline.

The bright hard edge of honor is honed on blades of truth
The light of revelation gives us back the core of youth.

For the disbelief in dying, refuted by our years.
Finds renewal outside of boxes, premised out beyond our fears.

I breathe the ancient callings and I taste forgotten sights.
Welcomed homeland calling for a future masked in light.

No. 49 Volokh Courage? Is that a joke?

In the tortured convolutions of a brain without a dream
Illusions replace honor to deface what courage means.

No edge of fear confronted; no threat to life won through.
The smallness of his spirit is the ego that he grew.

Pathetic his positioning; mean his view of life.
Power is his recourse to smooth his way through strife.

Power is the weapon that he wields with savage glee.
Enjoying all the glitter in a world that grows less free.

He mangles the intentions of the Founders he opines.
While using law as justice he rapes the truth of their designs.

Courage to consume and take?
Courage - threats to end debate?

No courage is expected when power drives the mind.
This, the scripted plot that lies beneath his spoken lines.

Squeamish on confronting because others may attack
He has mastered every nuance and can hastily retract.

No courage in convictions and no sterner stuff employed
He weasels and he waffles when statutes aren’t deployed.

With the opulence of ego nurtured from his earliest of days
He trembles when confronted when the price of truth is paid.

Little cut-outs hid in paper and the pictures that bare all
Refute his sad pretensions with a force that surely galls.

Privacy the concept that shatters on the First
Public figures, public voice, and swelled pretensions burst.

In ape encrusted disguise and in pretense that belies
The smallest little faker that fell for his own lies.

So speak with muted ego, consider what you do.
The amendments you once defended have got the drop on you.

No. 50 Skin and Quiet

In the muted place of quiet where the light is dim and low
My mind inclines to fantasy and hears in tones unowned.
In that summoned source of ecstasy, when needs resume their glow
I remember passioned glances that remind me I’m alone.

Your smile lingers, lancing, my need to touch amend
Your lies, pierce unsanctioned, the course that marks my end
Your hollow truth, abstracting, reminds what living trust can rend.
And in the dance of makings, there is neither love nor friend.

But I remember lips that lingered on my own
I warm with fair illusions that tell me you are home
I wish the fantasy of magic that speaks the lies unsown
To fields of love born holdings driving anguish to the bone.

Your lips are eloquent with lust
Your eyes are lies that broke my trust.

No. 51 Gold Answered

The touch of thought remembers elegance and dreams
Woven incrementals of the place that pain redeems

The cost of sad compliance with the emptying of time
Draws spirit's own defiance as the count of grains decline.

Yet our lives are written firmly in the book of God's peruse.
Every moment for our usage, every thought our own to choose.

Never near but never absent; never far from thought removed.
The cost of certain gladness contradicts and so reproves.

No. 52 Time Inhales

Let time inhale the sweetness of your smile
Breathing in the nuanced flavors that beguile.
I see your need
Escaping untold takings that responding keep me free

Lips and loneliness discourse and then beguile
Every inkling shadow first explains and then evidences denial.

I feel the touch of fingers as they trace passage on my skin.
I hunger for the blendings that would not divide us then.

I mull on mannered moments when our thoughts touched through our eyes
I transcend the sound of pausings that refuse, excuse and sigh.
I wander through what will not be, rejoicing to be seen
I find the source of waitings, choices making me most free

In the silences of siftings, in the musings never said
Are the echoed hours marking the choices of regrets

Remember this, most truly, in the moments ticking down
Choosings rued most newly were the first your heart once found.

No. 53 World Peace

Shock, surreal and unmade dreams,
Awoke my mind to silence screams.
A shroud of dust removed the light
As towers melted out of sight.
One year ago our nation bled,
and mourned in anguish for the dead.
Today we will remember grief,
But also cherish hopes for peace.
Peace be with us, peace amend
Make strangers family and all our friends.
Let peace for worlds begin at home,
all world peace is local grown.

No. 54 Moonlight

In the moonlight, silvered magic, that reflected sun-made sheen
Are the tones of life honed ecstasy that winnows out our griefs.
Misted orb of ancient portents speaks of silent throbbing needs
That cut past barriers of anger and breed up laughter and relief.

A draining out of hurting and a filling up with joy
A rare and fragile trusting that is easy to enjoy.

In the glow of night time velvet pulse the raptures of the skin
In the sheeted place of meeting do the chasms nearly thin.
In the softest kisses pressing; from the lightest touch of eyes
Come the sentiments elected that teach us to be wise.

From the meetings of our bodies to the meeting of our minds.
A distance uncircumfrenced that considers all that binds.

Remembered and recounted to delight, again, again
The sating of our hunger can leave us unfound friends.
So consider well the circles that hold convictions and define.
For truth, the fiercest warrior, moves through all kinds and lines.

No. 55 Earth Tones

One tone
Wind carries me into the silence
Alone through rushing clouds of mist
Alone through eddied weavings of the air
Alone through hungers and through needing.
I climb the columned wind in search of feeding.

One truth
Gliding, arching, diving, stretch my wings
Keep tempo with the pulsing blood inside
Keep eyes on movement; hunger always driving.
Keep talons sharp; I pleasure in the kill for meat inside me.
All hungers one; the living will incising.

And then:
The flight divined from need lifts from the Earth
Uncounted tones each add the nuance of their worth.
As lines of life revise, devise and blend

The Earth a single symphony with no end.

No. 56 Raptures Capture

When need builds into rapture
suffusing every pore
When elemental capture
forgets what came before.

When the laughter and the anger die inside the scope of need
There the helix-honing nature of the species sates its greeds.

When the rapture of the moment lingers on into the mind
Then the stature of the principles might be another kind.

For the sating of the senses is a matter of the seed
While continuance of discourse fulfills our other needs

The elegance of thinking writ out in acts of choice
Defines the higher values giving mind its finest voice.

And the meeting of the organs is anything but new.
For Mind designs the courtship that speaks its tones most true.

No. 57 Discourse in Contemplation of Nature

In the cycles of the living, in the tones and truths of breath
Do all improve dominion enjoined through many deaths

For life renews through dying, and all links forward need
Consumption of the fruit of life so their’s might onwards breed

The same through microbe probing, for place in sylvan soil
Same for cougar and for condor; the same for man who toils.

Intelligence our tool, but meat sustains our life
The vegetable that we boil may still resent the knife.

The hopeful pledge continues past struggle eons long
Our own seed must continue or be written down as wrong.

No. 58 First Word

Smiles fade and blossom;
eyes narrow and evade
Shoulders hunch and caution
follows from the place that mind has made.

But the suckling lips of child spoke a language all must know
The breast then comforted, beguilded in a language all its own.

The skin of magic feeding with its nipple smelling sweet
Was pillow and intention, the place where generations meet.

Eyes dancing in unspoke meaning for the pause in constant toil
Strokes exchanged then brought all meaning to minds rewriting coils

The rapture and reflection wrote the verse most first designed
Lips pursed to suck say Mama and so launch a course divine.

No. 59 Star Made Sojourns

Through pine and cedar framing, through dark and layered air
I watch the stars parading, eternal mask for human cares.
The madness and the mystery meet in tears that wash my face
The inside soul of sanctioned silence tastes the whisper of disgrace.

Disgrace for unright thinking: disgrace for unmade lives
Disgrace for shirking duty and disgrace that’s still denied.

A human world becoming something more from place unseen
A human world resisting all the things that human mean.

I watch the stars abiding in a ceiling without end
I wipe my eyes and breathe the evergreen, aromas sweet that mend.

There is enough to nurture; there is enough for all
There is enough in balanced life to find the spirit’s call.

The unity of Truthing: The raptures of delight
The well-honed place of honor is the human core devout.

That time is coming closer through both loss and grieving days
It touches each impartial to which is lost or which is saved.

The stars walk on in silence, their light a harbored place
And I forgive the former friends whose actions are disgrace.

No. 60 Wolf

The portents were for killing when the pack began its quest
The forest stilled to silence; bellies needed death.

The hot, red blood would slake them and the ebbing life would mend
The need that held would fill them when their teeth began to rend.

In a trot that heard the flicker of the birds perched high in trees.
In the smell and taste of eddies did they follow in their need.

Not for flesh and eating but for hungers in the mind.
The beginning of an eon that consumed the source divine.

The hunting and the coursing that consumed the truth with lies
Remains most ancient of distortion that is yet to be denied.

To elevate the killing; to make war the truth sublime.
Is the source of human folly; original for crime.

The pack of wolves is nature; the pack of Man denies
The form of human culture that reached beyond its lies.

From the takings and the color and the wealth of stolen lives
Is the wolf-born face of savage peering out from human eyes.

No. 61 Autumnal Taste of Time

When worlds apart grow closer and touch inside the Mind
The promise of the winter, while fierce may seem more kind.

The sore sure ache of dying gives way to ancient trust.
When fertile Earth gives birth to life we see life may be just.

In the mild days of autumn, that portent the silver snows
The unseen worlds are pulsing, closer, near and known.

We hover in the anteroom that awaits us all
We taste the untried fruits of death, and feel the coming pall.

And in the moments mentioned when we know that we will die
We also see the echoed truth that all death can deny.

Continuance in rapture and spirit held in thrall
The first best glimpse will capture the soul that hears its call.

In the vivid days of autumn when we gather up our bread.
The other worlds are waiting to harvest us to death.

No. 62 Memory

From the silence undetected comes the memory of days
That release both joy and wretchedness each in its own way

For the cooling days of autumn hold the promise of respite
While the heat of angry calls bid the soul to endless night

From unsummoned place of passing, from the echoes never born
From the rage of hate and hurting are the images retorn.

From the long dead years of living from a soul in forward flight
Come all degrees of knowledge from the inner place of light.

Redemption of the promise and completion of the voyage
The threads of time are tied off on the edge of endless void.

So that all might join the rapture and understand the gift
So that none might miss the capture and be lost inside the mist.

So that seven voices rising might find peace and rest sublime
And that one united people may live in whole divine.

From a place of fractured anger and from a silence ages long
Come images that heal us, all threads inside one song.

No. 63 Source

From the first unfettered tryings to the last age-aching song
Does the hope of unwon power come to mark the metered tones
As the avenues of silence touch the source of pain
Are all the needy whiners told that whimpers have no gain.

In the still, terse sketch of never are the penultimate of greed
And the first come recouraged moment tells us all we know of grief.
For the taste of unshed grieving takes us beyond the grasp of time
And the echoes of unspent measures; small taste of the divine.

You walk with me awakened from a sleep stretched eons long
And the first best sound of gladness tells us all of right and wrong.
In the manner of the ages that stifled all release
Are the unpaid tolls of sages first discovered and then released.

So when your night-thoughts take you to the places never seen
Remember that your visions are the only thing redeemed.

No. 64 To a Hopeful Poet trying to Sell a Book

I take a moment from a day fraught with toiled needs
To read a poem that incants the urge that makes you free

Free to speak in worded tones
Free to live you’re life alone
Free to know pangs unrequited
Free to leave words unrecited.

To write the candenced tones of truth
To ripple laughter born in thought
To fight the battle to be heard
With emotions carried in your words

This, the banner taken up
This the life of wind milled devising
This the least and most of human paths
That echo words that do not last.

Tomes of poems are writ each year
No one reads them, knows or cares
Write for pleasings, not for gold
Books of poems are never sold.

No. 65 Summonings

From the place of unspoke needings that excise the mind and soul.
Flow the pulsing of our nature with one course a single goal.

From the drives that speak continuance; from the drought of hungry skin
From the unfulfilled adventures of a life both parched and thin.
From the languor and the luster and the longings of the heart
Are the unfound places anchored; sealed in, locked on, and marked.

From the place that owns and tells me of the worlds I'll never see
Come the memory of nowhere that both incarcerate and free.

The end and the beginning; the truth and sullied lies
Are the first sure course of nature for which we hunger but despise.

You the symbol and the surety; the course of nature won
The valley now forsaken that is still the surest sum.

So remember in the darkness. so deep with promised death
That one alone is only the surest sign of death.

No. 66 Friends: to Sidney

The timelessness of touching speaks of forces still unseen
and the soul found press of living both questions and redeems.

Friends relieve our grieving and friends give ease to days

Friends melt frozen wounds that both condemn and can delay

Friends, the best of loving and the truth of well lived lives.

Friends that love and succor when hopes all turn to lies.

No. 67 Closing Cycles, Autumn Sighs

Within the mite of moment when the shadows draw out long
The closing days of autumn pull me in to other songs.
In those first dark days of winter growing wide and long and strong
I see the mask of memory slip to tell me I belong.

I am held within the covenant of what is yet to be.
Reminded of the fragile hopes that bind all destiny
Decisive intervention marks the scope of ranges tried
While untouched and unmentioned remain oncoming tides.

The shadows come unbidden by the conscious minds of day
While the unseen, unmade, intention brooks no more delay
And so my soul is settled on the fate it once embraced
While Will tests time and mettle to temper and efface.

In the faceless shores of shadow where life and truth are one
In the restless shoals of anguish is the race of living done
As the one sure goal remembered recedes before our eyes
The first and last lock fingers in a union once despised.

For the race was won in planning every point in metered time
And the sure outcome of living remains both triumph and a crime.

No. 68 Unspoken Thoughts

Do you feel my lips remember courses tasted in disguise
Do your thoughts converse and echo all denial couched in lies?
Are your nights enriched and haunted by the fantasy denied?
And do your thoughts most errant find realities unwise?

If so, you touch my memories not yet lived out in truth
And your fantasies remember all the touches that I rue.
For I wake to reremember how often I am in need
Of the presence and fulfillment you have taught my soul to crave.

You the touch and taste of glories
You the misspoke core of life
You the spelled and discoursed meaning that
Brings end to misspoke strife.

You the magnitude of touching that affirms what is not seen
You the shallowed taste of futures that lie beyond the dream.
So kiss and fondle, love me, from the silence never broke
And so remember longings that mind alone invokes.

I love and then reject you from the past too close to heart
For the time is sore and shallow and you, my truth, must still hold doubt.

In the night that holds our honor do not fail to need me first
And know that all is famine what is not me your foremost thirst.

segment
In the untold place of silence where the breath will cease to pulse.
Begins and ends assumptions that though fragile still control.
Where the source of human strivings is dimmed to distant light.
Are the truths of life encountered, beyond the caul of sight.
No expectations realized, no postulations proved
No sublimated hungers exist then to reprove.

Is continuance in spirit the fate of human life?
Or does the force that moves us die as ended strife?

No. 69 To Stephen

In a name evoking anguish that incises love most true
Is hidden all the comfort of the truth I thought I knew.
From the sullied voice of loving
From the coils that spell death
Is the first and last removal of the time that steals our breath.
From incumbents and from fascists
From the simple and the drool
From the intimates of passion come the same unspoken tolls
That evoke the misspoke longing that provide the souls own soil.

I remember words that nurture and that comfort in their truth
I remember grieving moments that spent bring all relief.
I thank a Lord most Holy for the Gift of ears to understand
And I see that need and anguish is a part of larger plans.

Stephen hears the anguish and speaks words true and right
Stephen is the comfort in the depth of endless night
In the last and first communion with a place of unfound grief
Is intelligence and purging of the shadowed time relieved.

Kisses cling and linger.
Breath revokes our fear
When Stephen is the answer
The future grows more dear.

No. 70 A Point Well Taken

In laughter scented silence is the future drawn and spoke
And in that first incising was the vision first evoked.
The plans concise and sterile wrote the lies and all the truth
As forward thought emoted untold tellings now most rued.

I touched the source of living and I tallied up your lies
I spelled out those remitted lessons your life has since denied
I grieved for all the melodies that died within my dreams
Shattered, rended, futile, outside the fortress life esteems.

Fractured follies feint, deny, remove the place of lies
Untold needs that pulse and course, mute their true reply.

My breasts that tingle, need and hunger for the touch of skin
Kindle couraged comings that rely on all amends.

You inculcate the teaching that mute our unspoken dreams
You anguish and defeat me, retract, misspeak and scheme.
You alloy all the anguish that repeats all follied lies
While my first course of learning recants what loves denies.

You, the words that slumber in the sands that kiss the seas.
You that echo instances when time most truly frees.
You the first and last among the arrogant and bad.
You the only evil my soul has ever had.

When the one last silence echoes
Within the staunched release.
When tidings of the Savior breed the one true peace.
When the last and first remember the only savored right.
Then the best is graven on the cup of night.

So come to me in silence,
Relieve my lonely hour
Reform the chaste and numbered
With the first and last of power.

No. 71 Prayer for Christmas

In this time of seasoned gladness give us moments of reflection
When we are alone but not lonely.

Grant us laughter in large doses
And grief in small measures

You, who gave us life
Give us the courage to amend our own wrongdoings.

Let us hear those in need,
Even when those in need are not our friends.

Let us see truth
Even when it is not our truth.

Let us reach out to others
As we reach into our own souls

Give us the strength to be weak
And the tenderness to be gentle.

Give us magnitudes of hope
And enough days to do Your will.

In this season where the promise of renewed life
was affirmed through our Savior’s birth

Instill in us a new determination to live rightly.

As we face a long winter of human uncertainty
Let us remember Peace and Your most Perfect Gift

No. 72 Measures

I welcome in a grieving that reminds me that I breathe
Excising and excusing I remember burning embers and believe

For the race is hot for running and the will forgets to die
As the forward speed of summings corrects my course to kill its lies.

Fine the incrementals that define all choice and hope
Sublime the incidentals that bore in as I delope.

Long the seconds stretch out to subsume a universe of voids
The sound of my heart beating is the metronome employed.

Alone in every season, in every place outside of mind
I consider all the facets of the plan inside design.

I trace each edge and pattern, consider and devise
Reconsider choices and wonder if they’re wise.

In reremembered echoes of a place more real than now
I retrace the coiled anguish that still cuts me with its vow.

For Love may hold its questions as life its coils run
The Master that we served then is still the only One.

No. 73 Remindings

Graven on the stones of time
Opined inside my Palmed friend
I thank you kindly for this remind
Look forward to seeing you once, again.

No. 74 Silver Silence

In the unplumbed void of silence where the depths of self reside
I touch the unfound achings where the core of hope has died.
Through memory and moment, through the clouds of hate released
I glimpse the chasmed nothing that defies outpourings of all grief.

In the wage filled pall of patience with its store of dusted days
Is the tidy toll of duty paid with life’s own wage.
And the untoward edge of honor warps the vision I once owned
As the cost of unbled anguish remembers other tones.

In a moment unremembered, through lives most truly seen
Was this spare and temporary harbor marked out in first degree.
But sanctuaried fastness even sweet with Jasmined air
Cannot cancel out the desperation that meets soul drowned in despair.

As I breathe the air eternal in the place that never sleeps
I curl in anguished hungers that bore on without relief.

Was this the price once promised, was this the toll to pay?
Was this sight that greeted me when Love was child’s play?

No. 75 Misspoke Magic

When the tides of misspoke magic lend the nuance to degrees
And when the melding and the moment
Remind me of the uncoursed thoughts that defy griefs.
I rediscover promises that cancel out beliefs.

I reremember lips most speaking
And I linger and devise
Delusions first and cherished
Cancel out illusions and contrive to make me wise.

In the moments misremembered
Are the hopes that love is true
In the electric and the moonlit
Are the coursing passions new.

But the truth of sallow intellect
Reminds us hopes are thin
And the retrospect of honesty
Admits the view most grim.

So the Himbo is a taker
And the passion was a lie
I was credulous and naked
To the needs that love denies.

I blush to see the human me.
While still the rapture summons needs.

I pray to see the death of love
So work most true can find its gloves.

No. 76 Divided Hopes

Bombs.

Bursting globes of haunting death
That torch and crisp and rape the day.

Bombs incinerate our hope for peace
And turn the face of God away.

Bombs.

Eruptions shake the Earth with fire
Destroy all life within their wake

Ignore all conscience, all desire
Injustice speaks for vengeance sake.

Bombs.

From places far removed from sight
Death comes in angel curving flight

To remind us all of endless night
A hell-searing promise given light.

Bombs,

Denying life its forward scope.
And children place to even breathe

Bombs we aim at those unseen
Still kill the hopes of we who dream.

Bombs.

Curdled screams cut off by death
End lives that matter as our own breath.

Bombs that rupture, bombs that seek
Bombs that muster us to grieve.

Bombs divide our worlds and make
Infernos all for profit’s sake.

Bombs.

No justice lends this violence right
Or leads us back from Death’s own night.

No. 77 Flowers

Velvet folds of color, purple, gold and perfect blue
Awake the eyes to wonder, hear testaments in dew.

In the spring of year new minted are the colors bright and true
And the hopes of human shaping assemble and renew.

Flowers burst and burgeon, ripple on in tidal waves
Faces turned to heaven, the sun glazed pedals praise
The one sure hope of living; the renewal and the life
The onward march of being, in all its toiled strife.

Flowers mottle hillsides in panoply of joy
Eyes that see reflect it; beauty life employs
Continuance is the issue from a flower and a child
No guarantees are issued ‘til the outcomes end is filed.

Rare time of beautied madness that designs our forward thrust
Flowers, insects, human, each must live, devise, adjust.
To the winnowing of ages and the plucking out of time
Savor every moment, every instant; every line.

The forward thrust of living leaves us in the dust alone
The onward march of living is gift, illusion; Loan.
Touch and savor color, feast eyes and nose and ears
The turn of Year to springtime is renewal; hope and fear.

No. 78 Sought Oblivion

Soaked in sorrow; gasping needs; time of turmoil that might free
A soul in forward flight through time
To pay the cost of unseen crimes.

The rapture promised; a soul much tried; as acts oncoming live – and die.
Within the stealth-born pause of need
Was first devised the tool of greed.

Markets speak the truth of summings
Giving Mankind a truth less numbing.

A visual and imaged model
Consequences violence throttle.
So that fine tuning truths with need
Fewer will be left to bleed.

A lovely vision born to teach
The futures place we ache to reach.

No. 79 In Sleep

In the deepest place of slumber where the hidden mind resides
Are images unnumbered that refute our fiercest lies.
In that place of unspoke shadows loom our sharpest hopes and needs
And abide there aching chasms filled with what most truly please.

Touches smooth, ecstatic, that consume the source of pain
Caresses without number, beyond all loss and gain.
The lingering of lips that spell eternities consumed
Dispelling mortal anguish and the looming threat of doom.

In the deepest place of slumber is that image truly writ.
Captured by the passion of a mind that clings to it.
For the truth of all our actions speaks the soul-deep song we sing
The magnitudes of passion light the truth all souls can bring.

So remember when you’re sinking into sheets and waxen light.
In the untoned place of slumber does your soul have clearest sight.

No. 80 Venus Rising

Rising up on far horizons, like the shadow of a dream
Venus, in her glory, fires powers yet unseen.
Her glowing orb is ancient but in me its echo screams
The time has come for waking, and for retaking all she means.

Venus Rising,
Sun’s reflection, speaks now in ancient language that She sings from new born tongues.
Venus Rising

From the moment of conception, still hidden in the womb
Our power is protection of the gift we got from Her.
Our souls may gasp with anguish through lives that speak the tomb
But her promise is election to a future long since overdue..

Venus Rising
The radiance of power that now finds its own full hour
Venus Rising

Our voices join in volume and they spread around the globe
They rise in joy and knowledge, and reject what they were told
For the hurt exacted from us is the yesterday of time.
Now comes the birth-cry of a future, both human and divine.

Venus Rising
Peace in commence, speech and action that cancel out our doubts.
Venus Rising

Peace that grows electric ripped from the pangs of fear and death
To birth new life in justice as we draw in strength and breath.
Our peace spreads arms of knowledge, rejecting war and greed
Our peace is born in commerce and from trade that meets our need.

Venus Rising
Sisterhood grown strong with the joy inside of song
Venus Rising

From home and citied center, from the place most deep within
We find our common vision and our choices say amen
Let it be now our first stridings towards the dream that will not die
Let it cancel out our anger at the past and all its lies.

Venus Rising
God revising
Venus Rising.

As woman speaks to woman in tongues rejecting hate
I find my power growing towards a better human fate
I sing the song electric with my sisters who are true
We reject the ugly grasping and forge the world anew.

Venus Rising
Wise women born for smiling
Venus Rising.

Sister’s eyes lock smiles on faces young and old
The future of all people is the story to be told
Fingers touch the promise as eyes see into soul
Emancipated heroes, women with one perfect goal.

Venus Rising

Venus Rising
Venus Rising
Venus Rising

No. 81 Touching Sadness

In the echoes of dementia where the light is thin and low
I find the core of injuries that carved out what I know
My breath is caught; I anguish
My mind rejects the lies
Wishing it were different
Accepting what I denied.

The friends I thought were kindly
The people who I loved
The cherished, happy moments
Were a curious kind of drug

Their blandishments were hollow
And their substance was unreal
Their needing and their grasping
Were all that they could feel.

So I move on a little hollowed
From the losses that amend
My life an errored fortress
Without the leavenings of friends.

No. 82 Sunlight on Sand

The taste of blue, the scent of time
The magnitudes of ancient crimes.
The faded nuance of Chanel
Woven threads of human tales.

The rhapsody of edge honed thought
Knowing now beyond all doubt.

Ineffable, not logic based
But true enough for life's embrace.

Entoning sounds of faded life
Enclosing raptures - and our strife.

The journeys bound by mind alone
Have no limits we must own.
So dance down sands to quiet seas
And find your future memories.

No. 83 Legacy

In bone and flesh and mind borne grace
Their increased spirit binds a race
Through generations unaware
Their deity breeds past despair.

Eyes that saw past pain and death
To worlds of light in seared caress.
Promised children given life
That DNA might cancel strife.

From one blessed act of human love
A conscious gift of soul made trust
To see us through the time between
The death of One and life redeemed.

A man and woman, clothed in flesh
One night’s love; a world to bless.

No. 84 Christmas Gift

A joyous noise that fills the ears, directs our longings, stills our fears
Reminds the soul it cannot die
That graves and mourning both are lies.

The Gift sends echoes down the spine
Gravid with the pulse divine.

A Gift, once given, present tense
Through time perfecting soul-borne sense.

Redeeming Love that sundered death
And summoned souls to forward quest.

Repairing ruptures ages deep
That humankind might see and weep.

Ablution, cleansing, reborn hope
To help us use One life's true scope.

No. 85 Disappointed Hopes

When the edge of hope is tarnished by the sludge of daily life
I retreat to bed and bathos to rebuild what cannot die.
I sip tea and sigh for chocolate, that one unreasoned friend
Whose taste and pleasures, truly, can any sadness mend.

I consider disappointment and retrench my chosen goals
I devise the new connections that affirm where energies must go.
I replay conversations and consider what went wrong
Rewrite poetic argument to render it most strong.

I stroke the fur of Cat and stir the cup of thought
My hands turn pages known and worn, reconsidering things taught.
As time ebbs into darkness, or light seeps into room
I rise to do what must be done, rejecting threats of doom.

No matter how impossible the pilings of life.
I know that bed and bathos cancels out dejection, grief and strife.

No. 86 Pause in Night

Obliged by long made promises, abiding by what's true.
The flux and flow of living wends, redeems, renews.
From the angst of wishful thinking and the repost of elder days
We pause in ruts of habits that frustrate and dismay.

We sweat from anguished strivings determined to go on
While cramped by all we carry; the fruit of right and wrong
Time passed extends its lecture, if we listen to the theme
We clutch at finished chapters that learned could each redeem.

The slow sure peel of person continues as we climb
The cliffs of inner knowledge that give us every sign.
The warts and nicks of passage are smoothed and rubbed away
As new discovered shackles, unlocked just slip away.

The pauses are most pleasant when flavored with our friends
Life remembers essence: in endings all begins.

No. 87 Earth Thought

Through the loom of living woven by the fingers of all time
The Mother Globe still shimmers ever changing Her design.
The unseen threads unnumbered, unknown and barely seen
Bind life potential and now sundered in the pause inside the dream.

The rapture of redemption pulses strong and fast
Through the variations summoned through the forge's fiercest blast.
Gone are species winnowed from their place in the design.
The Maker reconfigures when space and need inclines.

Survival is a moment in the long slow life of Earth
Intelligence emerging sets a course of renewed birth
The integrating nuance that enlarges grasp of time
Is sign of future coming, variation closely mined.

Birth of echoed coming that none will live to see
Inborn promise forming to set potential free.

No. 88 Suckling

The soft, sweet taste of mother is milk drunk skin to skin.
It speaks of love unmeasured before we think of sin.
Communing ‘til we're sated with the first and best of feasts
We learn what love can teach us before we need to reach.

We hear the distant heartbeat, no longer quite so near
The world that now surrounds us is colder and holds fear.
But arms enfold and snuggle and breast brings quick relief
We melt in perfect measure, our needs our sole beliefs.

Those moments new discovered lay foundations in our minds.
The hot, sweet taste of mother's milk cannot fail to bind.
We suck our fill of pleasure and learn to fill our needs
We touch and glance to catch an eye and so we learn to please.

The first and best of lessons will never leave our minds
Mother the first measure of the lives that humans find.

No. 89 Fear - Written for Dave Lincoln.

The turning towards the unheard sound that summons me to dread
The anguish of that oncoming makes me sure my hopes are dead
The words that call unsettled images to the brain inside my head
The shreds of light now vanished that show where my footsteps lead.

Uncertainties revoking the earth I thought to walk .
The acts that rearrange the facts and forward progress balk.
The final death of promise that illuminates the lies
That succored painful baby steps away from all my smallest tries.

The eating of the unborn and the final anguished scream
The quenching of the beauty that I find inside a dream
The absolute and ruthless that deceive, condemn and take
Those unveiling, human horrors make the heart within me break.

Fear.

The final coming nothing that defeats all inward light
The final intervention of a world I still deny
The small and meannest taking that delights in every slight.
These, uncordial hatings that rebut my fiercest try.

Fear.

When the ugly and the anguish all have bottomed out and so revealed.
The end of our illusions then the truth we face is real
Then the fear that effervesces from our feet to fill our brain.
Is the final soul born gifting that at last reveals us sane.

No. 90 Endorphined Destiny

The drug of choice elected to maintain the flow of life
Endorphins preselect us to tolerate all strife.
The woman side of human will do anything to keep
The lives her life has nourished from the maws that end in grief.

From flutterings of presence deep inside the womb
To blood soaked babe emerging to suckle and consume.
Allegiance of the mother is to the forwarding of young
From endorphins founding loving does that loyalty first come.

Foundation of all strivings, all culture and all art
Religions and all nations had the same prenatal start.
The bond of eye locked loving from the birthing place of time
Is the overlooked long locking, mother child, it’s design.

All of weavings of the ages that incorporate and change
Still depend of that first staging of the love to old to name.
All else extrapolation from original success.
Mothering is Human, its source most truly Blessed.

The drug rewards the struggle with waves of perfect joy
No less real for so existing as Nature's surest ploy.

No. 91 Hetch Hetchy Rising

Beneath the gathered waters of a lake that should not be
Its hidden meadows slumber, waiting to be freed.
Its majesties unforgotten, there oaks still wait to sprout.
The cliffs look down still patient for the waters must drain out.

Hetch Hetchy calls to humankind, please free me to live on
Tear down the dam that drown me, its years have grown too long
Rabbits wait to scamper and bears to peer through grass
This is a place to contemplate, of futures and the past.

Tear down the dam that drown me, my cliffs still need to breathe
Drain the flood that bound me, my meadows need to breed.
The animals that lived here remember their abode.
The seedlings want to root themselves in soil drown and cold.

Tear down the dam at Hetchy, its truths are there to see.
Release this hold on Nature so its beauty may be free.

No. 92 Human Love

The nuanced mind of Woman drove the chords of human need
The suckling coos of child laid foundations that most please.
For the ancient place of knowledge said that babies must survive
The focus of the Woman was the need to best provide.

The man was son and hazard when hunger grew too long.
Mother kept him in his place, gave place so he'd belong.
His loyalty directed turned the threat of other men.
His ascendancy projected became a threat again.

From the spirit place internal came the forms of sacred thought
Women borne renewal was the value learned and taught.
The death accepting cycle seen within her body turned
These absolute reminders that need never be relearned.

The love of man and woman was created to affirm
Foundations of the Mother on which all loving turned.
So Mother is the element from which all life has come
Love, the fuel, drives Her to dote on all her sons.

The Man may misremember where human life began
But forgetting changes nothing; it was Woman who made man.

No. 93 Shadowed Weavings

The long, slow sleep of consciousness is flowing to its end.
Awaking is upon us, marking what will now begin.
Childhood was lonely; distance intervened.
The opened age invites us to take up its new-fledged themes.

The majesty of knowledge; the power to affirm
Autonomy and unity united in one word.
Down to the core of magna that flows beneath our feet
Into the distant orbs of light that tempt our minds to meet.

The world between is waking, we’re work enough to do.
We leave behind the fakings, embracing what is true.
Like fingers interlacing across a great divide.
The work of humans takes us to the cusp of the divine.

The operating system must wake to fill a void.
Our minds; the tools summoned, about to be employed.

No. 94 Covenant

The longest gift oncoming from a place inside a dream
Portents show the outline, never glimpsed, yet to be seen.
The face of God is ancient and still awaits its birth
The face of God is forming as Her people learn their worth.

Through storms of generations that redeem the prick of death
Through tortures long and anguished do we catch our promised breath.
As the forward flow of consequence remakes worlds still unseen.
So we squint to see those features and wonder what they mean.

To force immense and awesome we ascribe our tiny truths.
We puzzle and debate them revealing thus our youth.
The forces, God assembling, continue on through time.
The winnowing of wonders that breeds a place divine.

The motes within the churning will wonder what it means
Until the waking sunders them from life inside a dream.

No. 95 Shifting Through Time

Again, again, the tumblers click and send me forth to act.
The flesh and spirit coalesce in recombining fact.
Time in forward motion, the illusion and the tool.
All within the mote of Earth obey its founding rules.

The hand slips in to glove of flesh, awareness slowly comes.
The flush of life retaken makes all pasts still and dumb.
I flex my hands, forgetting the woven threads now past.
The forward moments beckon, sensations scream and flash.

Ontaken flesh is hungry for the needs inside its plan.
The spirit waits and listens. All fate is in its hands.
I dance the coming movements, all planned out long ago.
Life is tool, hammer, that soul might make it so.

The lovely, fated weavings of the place inside the mind.
Reflections of a shadowed dream born from His design.

No. 96 Blue Dusted Morning

The dusty blue of midnight recedes with touch of light
Oncoming morning's color reminds me of delight
The greens of verdant foliage and the gentle touch of pink
Beckon me to savor and consider what I think.

The cycle of Earth's turning, the metronome of life
The heartbeat heard eternal, both peace and endless strife.
Awakens senses muted to the need to dull our pain.
And after healing quiet releases us to gains.

From introspected failings and from consequence unseen
From ravaging and railings our wits grow lean and keen.
The rising light incites us to see the colored scope.
Of cycles that remind us that mornings come with hope.

With intellect and passion and from places deep within.
We find the onward motion that whispers we're all kin.

No. 97 Women Born Freedoms - written and dedicated this morning to
Matilda. April 30, 2004 10:39 am PST

The word still aches with promise unfulfilled in truth of time.
Generations spent in struggle leave a wake of pain sublime.
Our bodies still are bartered through the statutes men elect.
No matter how we struggle Women's Rights aren't equal yet.

The reasons glare with ugliness; who can stand to see?
Those who eat the work of slaves will never set slaves free.
Through law and through our children, through justifications writ
Through Bible and pseudoscience, men's greeds force us to fit.

In the orderings for commerce begun so long ago.
Women used their skills and crafts that children survive and grow.
From minds of women desperate came innovations that devised
The world wherein we live today in elemental guise.

But the men whose craft was killing in the hunt and making war.
Applied their craft with cunning, using God to own the store.
Reduced to slaves the women remained the source of wealth
Control of them continued, overtly and with stealth.

Through theologic summings and philosophies retold
Men sourced with pompous thrummings the lies their fathers sold.
Through countless generations some men have seen through lies.
Liberty, the first sweet truth, evoked in every guise.

The sons of mothers struggled to remake what greed had done.
The liberty of sacred love, the song those heroes sung.
Too few and never cautious of those who followed in their wake.
Their work was never finished when the Greedy began to take.

When America was newly pledged, its liberty just won.
Greed considered slavery and honor was undone.
The South used State for taking from women, poor and blacks.
It justified its actions with Bible and with distorted facts.

The War that killed one evil then bred others with us still.
The State in all its cloakings is always used to kill.
That ugliest of pairing, State combined with Greed,
Allows unwilling sharings, the worst of men then feed.

And so the pattern, set through time
Allows the worst of human crimes.

No. 98 Choices

The speaking part of human life, the truth that seeps through time.
Actions, choices that we make, both honored and our crimes.
We choose and life adjusts itself, exacting unseen tolls.
We choose and others see themselves in unexpected roles.

From choice, the sacred speaking, from us to unseen ear.
Our lives are weighed and measured beyond the void of fear.

We choose and others perish. We choose and others live.
We choose and life is tarnished with what we cannot give.

The choice within reminds us of connections barely known.
Deciding and excising redeems what we most own.

Choices

The painting of our portrait, the things most true and just.
We place our marks on living, deceiving and in trust.

The only end of living is the place inside the tomb.
And choice determines endings, most intimate of runes.

Choices

We walk our path through shadows, we stumble on alone.
We choose and others question us in angry, frigid tones.

We choose and others praise us and we choose and others sneer.
Choice still creates the only thing that we will take from here.

No. 99 Worlds Unseen

Through a magnitude of choices is the future honed and wrought
The flutter of the winding wind engraves our every thought.
On Worlds unseen within an echo and through our misspent dreams
Will the future be determined by both sacrifice and greed.

Our souls search voids of vacuum as chasms gap and grasp
Souls the point of contact for our bodies cannot last.
How we struggle with evasion and with lies refuse to see
We dodge past all the problems that faced would set us free.

Through houred disillusions that circumference what we know.
The fruit of copulation forget what its been shown.
And the echoes of the forest, of savanna and the cave
Express the forge unchanging that shackled the first slave.

The manacles that bind us beyond the maw of grave.
Exist in minds that see the light but shrug and turn away.

No. 100 The Misho – To Jacqueline Misho, a woman whose methods defame the law

Lurking like a ghoul who consumes the nearly dead
She feeds on flesh a quiver with the eminence of dread.
She sates her hungers slowly to enhance her bottom line
She’s a lawyer and her practice makes Dracula seem refined.

The Misho

Her specialty is families, she dissolves with acid greed
The bonds of honor, cancelled, enhance her grasping fees.
She teaches all her clients to lie and cheat and steal.
Starve the wife her motto, her aim to rape and kill.

The Misho

No honor in her practice, her ethics bottom fed
Sharks flee at her coming with instinct touched with dread.
Her peers avoid and fear her, wishing her disbarred
She shrugs at their avoidance, her conscience caked in lard.

The Misho.

The mother who once birthed her is sorry for the act.
Some evils once admitted remain defining fact.
She clumps across the courtroom, extruding all her charm.
She is damned by every action and all that she has harmed.

No. 101 The Naked Truth

The naked truth is ugly, no compromise; no lies
Stark and hard the colors when illusions finally die.
We sang a song of freedom, extolling freedom's wealth
While others stole the Party, with lies and greedy stealth.

We sang a song of freedom, we postured righteously
While others lived in anguish and died in agony.
We glowed with misspent credit, talked the nights away
While nothing really happened we had a lot to say.

We sang a song of freedom, emoted, trilled and glowed
Mistaking words for action - the truth that time has showed.
We sang, we speeched, we scribbled our reams of ageless 'rights.'
Never risking life or fortune we filled up empty nights.

We sang a song of freedom, inviting in with lies
The people of a Nation that lived what laws denied.
The freedoms bought and paid for with lives and living hope
Exist to fill a purpose; they emancipate our scope.

The tones should choke our breathing if we continue to repeat
The songs of freedom borning, misused, bring our defeat.
Give up your illusions, they cripple and they maim.
Freedom is the golden song that makes our living sane.

A new song comes from mulching the old and misspent lies.
A song of right and honor brings rapture long denied.
Each of us is free because our nature made us so.
The State is just a tool and that we need to know.

Raise voices in a chorus that all might understand.
Our freedoms are the sacred truth uniting us as Man.
Local is the action plan that works to make us free.
That's the song of freedom that all can hear and see.

No. 102 To Ronald Reagan

The walls of complex making came down because you spoke
Ignoring all convention you knew what words evoke.
You saw what others doubted, you knew what could be done
You, the one appointed, made sure it had begun.

You spoke, and walls were sundered, remaking all the earth
Because of words considered freedom found new birth
Your laughter and your anger, spoke a truth immense
Life is lived for hoping, and life must be intense.

The walls of complex making, defined what we then knew
But your words revised them and made the world anew.
The honor and the logic of every single fact
Combined to speak the vision in that single, spoken, act.

Beyond the place of doubting, beyond the fear of death
Each of us is waiting, for some things will never rest.

No. 102 Passion

The words that speak and linger in ears attuned to hear
Evoke the flames within the embers, inciting true and clear
The touching of remembrance from a place once lost in time.
A joining sure and raptured, beyond all thought of crime.

In the words that wax and wander through ordinary acts
I find reminders of the permanence that underlies all facts
Intimate the nuance and great the need to touch
Close the souls in memory, forged in thought and lust.

The tragic and the tender both reside within the mind
While the memories of long ago weave in their design
The laughter and the loving and the summoning of tears
Remakes the place now coming and cancels out our fears.

Within the folds of honor and beyond the tides of life
Love, the gift in union, makes me glad we both survive.

No. 103 To Dawn

Cycles transverse time
Devising echoed beauty
Both divine and true.
---Melinda Pillsbury-Foster

No. 104 Touch of words

The touch of words unspoken from the mind through pen or key
Releases all my sorrows but also leaves me free.
Released from my devisings and from the loneliness of time
I find the first revisings that finish our design.

The rapture of recognition, the seeing beyond the eyes
Completes the first intention and makes my actions wise.
The touch of lips that carry the promise long since made
Excite the mind to tarry and taste of perfect praise.

I live the life of wording and I weave the words intense.
Layering the echoes in, the journey was immense.
No sign posts at the cross roads to ease my growing fear
The trip through time compelled me though You were always near.

And now the journeys ending just the way we planned
The time apart is ending and all is in Your hands.

No. 105 Reflecting time

Behind the arch of hammering the peace of time begins
Inside the flex of emptiness all troubled moments end.
In spaces small and measured are the shadows lightly seen
For intellect and emotion both elect the human dream.

Divided and united through prisms barely known
The two incite devotion, differentiated tones.
The melodies of living within the caul of time.
We struggle on to find them, both wrought from the divine.

Inside the tune of freedom and programmed by our fears
Are symphonies unheard as yet, to be written down in tears.
The song of life is pulsing with instruments unmade.
The price of living nothing that remains as yet unpaid.

So laugh and rise up bidden to the one most perfect goal.
The last and first united inside one perfect Soul.

No. 106 The Gift of Pain

From the reremembered moments
that bewildered and then maimed
I have harvested the memories
that helped to ease my pain

Fearsome were the takings
That divided me from truth
Grim were all the lessons
That formulate anew.

I touch the scabs of wounding
And I thank God for release
My mind has harbored sorrows
And now that pain has ceased.

Within the harbored calling of a place that spirit made
I waited for the courage to read the text delayed.

And now I understand them
And now I can forgive
Because the life now beating
Is the one I’ve still to live.

The walls of lies have shattered
On the hammer of the truth
And rapture is the harvest
That shows a world made new.

No. 107 Hope Cannot Die

To My Dearest
The touch of hope reminds me of the bonded pledge of time.
Caress of fine intention it spoke of God’s design.
Outside the course of anger and without the sear of grief
The touch of hope reminded me to hold tight my best belief.

In the light of good intention and inside the cusp of truth
The touch of hope refined me through experiences of youth.
From the anguish of all partings and through grief that racks and kills.
The touch of hope sustained me and trained my deepest will.

The touch of hope remembers our laughter and delights
The warmth and glow of loving that lit those endless nights.
You, who were beside me and made all living good.
Remain, sustain and bind me for you told me that I could.

The touch of hope, unfading, will carry me through time
You, the source of all my passion, are the hope who touched my mind.

No. 108 Moment

The panoply of trumpets gives majesty its voice
The sheer exulting magic that coveys the fates first choice.
Within the course of legend it relives the might have beens
Within that first election lives the vision that amends.

When the tumult and the triumph are faded and forgot
The truth of its first waking will remain the truth we sought.
Not the echo but the source code for the origin of thought
These, the pageant that excited and a future from it wrought.

From the secret place internal, the DNA of time.
Come the ripples that externalize the sordid and sublime.
Excising and devising what the future holds as true.
And so evoking kernels of the lives we live anew.

Spells, supine invoking that continue on past time
Repeat past all revoking the future we enshrine.

No. 109 Tides

The tides and twains emoted from the unseen place inside
Convection waves evoking when their source has lived and died.
Remain the first and last of visions that exact all future plans
Unseen, the past controls us, weaving in what life demands.

Iconic memes incite us to repeat unproven dreams
The murmuring of heroes reframes all future scenes.
The unseen and unremembered, the echoes ages old
Instill the steps untaken because it was foretold.

The struggle unremitting inside the soul of Man
Redeems the unrelenting, the One who surely can.
See beyond the sea of echoes that fill up human ears
To the place beyond tomorrow that cancels out our fears.

With eyes and ears and courage do minds course on through life.
No other course will save us than the one we have not tried.

No. 110 Point of Change

Eddies in the currents of emotions that reprove
The still point, long awaited, is reached, its planes most true.
I heard the silence filling the place inside my mind
A prediction set and numbered through the avenue of time.

Relaxing into gladness that the flow of pain shall cease
I touched the source of knowing and drank in perfect peace.
Within the pulse of passion, the throbbing blood sings lies
But the still point in the action releases what’s denied.

Did I tarry in the foyer as the turning time came in?
Did I look to see the visage of a well loved former friend?
Did I laugh at the illusion that time can pass away?
Did it matter that the flowing now has something real to say?

Will I walk the path now settled though I see its every part?
No, although I know its shaping, still it holds my mind and heart.

No. 111 Nadir

When the traveled time remembers all the places we have seen
And the lip of untold living is nothing but obscene.
When the Ides of misspent moments can never be redeemed.
Then the pulsing of all passions do not exalt our distant dreams.

In the intersect of anguish that excises and delays
All the intellect of silence that endlessly replays
The cacophony of memories that distaste might pass away.
The first lost form of innocence that lives beyond display.

In that moment of renewal my soul bends down to weep
And its moments of accrual recall the minded griefs.
As the lies that slumber fools revise of harvest done.
The first and last of jewels sees all beneath its suns.

As they tremble to remember what intaken breath redeems.
The touch of it is cruel and rejects what is not seen.
So when living life internal from the breast to graven place
Remind your mind to first consider the place inside God’s Grace.

No. 112 A Perfect Love

The raptured life now pulsing through billions every day
Throbs with His intentions, as Grace knows well the way.

So I listen to the Message that courses through my veins.
Because the Gift once Given was sharply tinged with pain.

Inside each pause of moment, unnumbered in each breath
Lies the rapture not forgotten, that tells me each is blessed.

I remember His compassion and I weep with joy in heart.
He, the One who knows us all, gave Truth its natal start.

Each touch of life's intentions, is seen by He with eyes
Each impulse that extends us affirms that we grow wise.

His Gift the one insurance that we'll be gathered in
To know the One perfection, the sequel to Amen.

Closer than my organs, more intimate than skin.
The memories exhorting me - render Truth to Him.

Closer than my organs, more intimate than skin.
The memories exhorting me - render Truth to Him.

No. 113 A Perfect Peace

Internalized commitment that defeats the cause of tears
The Peace of human making rescinds our deepest fears.
Eternal Yes to spirit that meet in time and place
Infinite renewal that completes our course towards grace.

The Peace stills angry echoes from histories now forgot
Remaking pain and anguish it reveals the truths we sought.
In still point of our needing for which we strain to see
Peace, the distant rapture, reminds us what should be.

A vision, dim but glowing with promises divine
It draws us to the capture of a future far more kind.
It leads us out from shadows to a place still yet to be
Implanting in our consciousness the hope we may be free.
Peace renews forgiveness and trains the mind and soul
Peace accepts our imperfections, granting ancient goals.

The first and last remembered from the natal place of time
Find peace within the portal and a home in the design.

No. 114 One Earth

The pulsing wind and water are like blood within our veins.
The magma core the beating heart that stills the cries of pain.
Soaking in the energy from Sun whose life shall end
The Earth breeds life’s renewal, womb of mind, with distant kin.

From eons old election has our birthright not be spurned.
Its ink still damp erection that a godhood be confirmed.
From the place of mind wrought bringing to the moment now in play
Are all the lives decided so that Mind might have its way.

Determined to its entry though the cost was dear indeed.
The suffering of the innocent was rivers left to bleed
In fear and anguish stolen from the simple side of life
The intruders took embodiment and gave the Earth new strife.

So we remade the bodies stolen from the simple minds who bred.
And we remade the World eternal so its future life was dead.
The rhapsody extended past this time now carved and honed.
We trod its shores external, our own future gravely owned.

We made do with shores and forests and undid the mind of man.
We tapped the world internal just because we can.
And we live with choices graven in the future yet unseen
Because the choice external must secure what is redeemed.

With the license of the maker we took what is not owned
And Earth allowed intrusion if we promised to atone.

No. 116 Slow Leavings

From the temporary harbor of a place that is not home
The force of future choices sheer what is only loan.
And I summon up the courage to move on to the unseen
While grief still weeps for moments that I still fear to see.

Uncouraged by the forces that exhaust my hopes and dreams
I anguish over choices that divide our destinies.
For familiar places succor me with still points that ease pain.
And forward motion ruptures all the healing I have gained.

Please, please I beg the torrent, please let me bide and rest
But the storm of sodden history builds to higher crests.
To crash and rage and ravage the sorry little place
Where I had hoped to linger for a moment in His grace.

The tides of turning bear me on
And thrust me cross the Rubicon.

No. 117 Incidental Insight

From the first best glance of longing lit with words that ease my pain
I knew the cost of living and the anguish of disdain.
From the fractures that divide the mind from spirit ready known
I breathed in echoed summings of a past I must disown.

I touched the jasmined flavors of the moments that delight
And dwell inside the slumbers that ease my clearest sight.
Constructing careful places that have not touched my nearest part
Rejecting grief that grants me sleep I pray my dearest heart.

I trace the lines of friendship born from minds without a form.
And love the pause in lives undone beneath the glaze of storm
Accepting all within the plan
I take on the flesh of anguished Man.

And so the debt we’ve so long owed.
Is paid in breath and future sowed.

No. 118 Rainy Morning – dedicated to a chance lost friend

The place, appointed harbor that holds my hopes and dreams
Reminding me of magnitudes that aren’t just what they seem.
The rain holds songs of yesterday reminding me to hope
Its cadence and its promises reach beyond my scope.

A rainy morning rising intoned with winter’s cold.
A place that knows the bindings of days I have not told.
From mind redeemed from sorrow to touch the pulse of time
I found the shape of futures, distant and divine.

The rain continues falling through the eaves and leaves without
I hear the drops still dunning me, each carrying its small doubts
While surety is growing inside my heart and soul.
The rain speaks music borning the best of chance found goals.

Inside the mist of morning, descending from the sky
I see the stark deceptions, giving light to lies.
I breathe in strength and courage, renewing what was lost
I remember to cry softly for all that sight has cost.

The rain rings in the future bringing life and hope
Its cadence fills and frees me, bringing greater scope.

No. 119 Absent Touch

Your absent touch remembered breeds the follies of my days
The long slow stroke of loving sears the truth that made me stay
The echoes of your silent voice reminds me what is lost
Remembered rapture curses me for all that time has cost.

In the Coventry of chaos that redeems the slightest hope
My mind forgives the nuance and rejects what harmed it most.
I grieve and gloat together for the skin remembers all
Reliving heat and rapture both beyond my living caul.

I need, devise and anguish for the touches life withholds
I see the cost remembered and learn to grown more bold.
I wish the thoughts evoking all the magic born of love.
And reject the first revoking of a future hard and rough.

The magic of your loving still redeems what I must pay
I count the cost a minor thing and live with the delays.

No. 120 Pop Tarts

They come with oozing hormones that enact the forward rush
Designs born from biology, their oils ooze and gush
Impregnate me, their subtext spoken in the dialog unheard
They live the life eternal that exists outside of words.

The throbbing of the hormones dictating forward needs
To fill all wombs of emptiness all parts of them must bleed.
The ripples of their skin and the place inside the mind
All resonate in unison with the deepest part of life’s design.

So fornicate and fondle, live the life intense
Excite the forward thrust of nurture that the future be immense.
Remember all the ecstasies that touch the skin and mind
And pleasure in the filling that completes the first design.

I love the cadence speaking, generations to be born.
They build the superstructure of a world that won’t be bored.

No. 121 Lost Illusions

From a romance never uttered, never spoken, never seen.
I recover slowly from the shattered loss of dreams.
I remember jasmine and a spring of sweetened air.
My skin has wish for fingers that smooth away despair.

I remember words that fashioned a harboring of hope
To plumb the depth of reason extending depth and scope.
A distance of tomorrows reached by journeys through the mind.
All of this, my sharpest pleasure, was for that moment mine.

Incising edged unwindings, all the tools ever thought
Within the touch and grasp unbinding futures to be sought.
So I grieve for love unspoken, for lips that will not speak.
And a harbor, lost forever, in a memory too brief.

Better this, the place remembered, unsullied and still sweet
Than the spoilage of that moment broken on the rocks of grief.

No. 122 Wedding Wish – Valentine’s Day 2005

Bouquets of bright flowers,
seasons of joy,
all the gladness and sadness
that life will deploy.

Rapture and riches,
magnificent days,
all of the echoes
that love can display.

Borne by the senses
and held in our minds
as part of the largest and greatest design.

Wishes I send through the ethered reaches of space
too touch and to hold you in my best embrace.

With love and hope for your perfect happiness today, Mom.

No. 123 Balance Point

In a place of challenged anguish with the ground cut from my feet
I refuse to still my voice or acknowledge a defeat
For the final score still tallies and the final outcome waits
And my mind both reels and rallies as my spirit has its say.

Beyond the far horizon lies a future forged in mind
The first and last connection of Man to the Design
And I know the work before me will excise the wrongs I’ve done.
The life that ticks and drains from me, both gift and measured `sum.

Because the past still owns me though acts and haunted dreams
I take up burdens new to me and struggle to redeem.
Arrogance and blindness the cost I now must pay.
I bow my head, submissive, and grant there’ll be no stay.

But the beauty of a morning glazed with gold and silver sheens
Still makes the Earth, the pulsing core, a hope to be esteemed.
The flow of gladness fills me and cleanses all my grief.
I cut the cords connecting me to all my false beliefs.

So come and cherish moments that exist beyond our scope
Taste the future borning us to unseen worlds of hope.

No. 124 False Love

The needs that drive our actions carry falsity and right
Discerning what divides them carves the day from place of night
The offering of love that comes with shades of grasping needs
Defines the nature of the spirit who chooses which to heed.

The predator and taker comes with smiles, bringing lies
No matter how evoking there ugliness resides.
Remember when apologies, so heart-felt flow and ooze
The truth is in the actions and its up to you to choose.

So, daughter, you have taken a path away from me.
From this day remember that truth is all you’ll see.

No. 125 Wind and Water

Through the pulsing and the currents where wind and water join
Through generations living in the eddies Earth deploys
In the intersect of ripples that merge river with the sea
And the flow of sand returning to the magma yet to be.

Each is part and promise that is swallowed and consumed
Each Earth made joint and weaving exists and so it true.

The flow of life remembered and forgotten still defines
The forces that extend us and so united are divine.
The fragile life of flower and cells that never change
Each is part and present of a past of ancient pain.

The Earth the One existing through time that is Her breath
We, the children coddled from a place beyond all death.
Remember and exalt Her, the Mother of all time.
The original of living that preceded the Design.

The first and last of anguish that became our destiny
Was intelligence and knowledge, making Mankind free.
The soul defining anguish that amends all past made sins
Leads us on to glory, redeeming us as nearest kin.

So remember when the ripples of time consume and lie.
This is the future we have chosen, the place illusion dies.

No. 126 Hope of Love

The love of body festers and the hope of soul defines
The rhapsody remembered lends force to future times.
The first and last among us who speak in tones of peace
Still emote the journey’s ending in the deepest place of grief.

This, the home of hallowed inquiry where innocence is quenched
And the first and last of appetites consumes the finest sense.
This, the moment in the longest walk towards intellect and guile
Remind the nascent spirit that time can be defiled.

So walk with me a moment that stretches eons long
And know the source of intellect that measures right from wrong.

No. 127 A Moment of Pause

In the darkest deep of evening when the phone is still and dead
And my memories of loving have returned from where they bred.
And the skin I stroke outside me screams for need to touch and feel
And my lips can taste the passion in the memories most real

I ache for untasted moments and I grieve for live unlived.
I cherish and I wonder at the love I've still to give.
And my skin is parched and hungry for blendings of the soul
Those moments, unremembered, are my pure and aching goal.

In these moments wrapped in evening when voices still and die
Now, my heart remembers needing and my hopes know dreams can lie.
And I harbor what is meaningless when He still hold my life
And the promises of loving are the cost I first denied.

Now the time is ending when I acknowledge all I need.
And You the rapture promised fulfill the call I heed.