#poetry - all the hours, all the days

so make a stand one time each day
before exhausting fade comes
before doubt can explain itself
before No is worded from without or within

rise in the stillness that possesses you
and take back all self-possession
rise in the wake of all your greatest moments
and relive them all again right now

save yourself the toll of long low moments
for you must be the one who is savior
if you must, take a knee, if you must, take a breath
if you must, take a long while to recompose

but then stand and say I am standing
and beat your chest and say I am beating
and let loose the care for worry
and admit that this is a very fine hour

one time each day say Yes thank you Yes
one time each day save the hour and the day
for all the hours are so few and precious
and all the days have grace and plenty

#poetry - spaceship spaceship

Spaceship spaceship universe
Tell me what we're doing in the universe
Sell me what you're selling let me rise beneath you

Spaceship spaceship aero plane
Tell me what we're doing without stereo playing
We're thinking thinking thinking and we're nowhere clever

Or not we know
What you are and what you are not

I'm the only other spaceship here
Nothing else yet has been able to prove itself

The waxing and waning of faith contributes
The most probable outcome is forever
The most expansive nature is irrelevant
Circles and dots and nothing more over and over again

#poetry - alpha and alpha

[written a long while ago]

alpha/\/\/\/alpha/\/\/\/
omega/\/\/\/omega/\/\/\/
wave upon wave upon wave---
save me, oh lord, save me!
               i am, i am.
anoint me, anoint me!!
         je suis, je suis,
hey zeus creasy! define order!
define love! define life everlasting!

what is supreme? what is eternal?
and why do we stand around
and wait for the end? why?
but to pretend we know
the first two answers
like a summation problem.

the back of the book holds the answer,
just as well as the front of the book
holds the oil of your fingers' print.
living teeming oil
brought up from the soil,
inorganic matter and charged energy,
to tell in certain form
the answer is wrong
               if you are dead!

what is more absurd than what pascal said,
his wager against all doubt?
to be a lemming on the edge of a cliff
and not wonder a thought for a dip.

ambol along then and gamble away!
most would agree life is a river winding
from source to delta
with escaping vapor, exciting ether

dust in a soundless cloud

#poetry - it keeps us going

so busy
everyday
we've got many
things to do

so busy
everyday
we've got all
kinds of things

that keep us going
and keep us busy


that trooper
over there
he's been watching
over there

non-stop watching
oh hey trooper
always on
and always watching

he keeps ups going
while we're marching


when calling
so and so
we must tell him
to be good

hey be good
so and so
we must tell him
or he won't be

we keep on going
and going for good


up and down
and left and right
odd are carols
we be singing
at all hours
how we're feeling

in and out
and all around
let's be honest
you love wonder
in the tempest
that you ponder

drown drown drown drown
come down down down

drown drown drown drown
come down down down

come down

oh moksha comes and
your head light shows when
you feel yourself then
lift off your toes and

away you go
away you go

away you go
away you go

#poetry - negotiating alternatives

all life is a negotiation
i am going to negotiate my way out of this one
as i have negotiated my way into it

we're not to be made feel ashamed of who we are
especially when we find out who we truly are
especially then are we to be proud and stand

so then there is this where the strength and surety
comes from to inform our mind with insight
and invigorate our heart to put forward a suggestion

and if there are counter thoughts to the contrary
we'll be good and strong enough to hear them
and either find a way to rebut or to compromise

but we will not sail into a pit feeling with remorse
nor feel a way of dullful rejected acceptances
or allow a whole wide promising venture to die

not without a fight of geniune witty stubborn
stalwart gripping evasive thwarting exciting
strange unconventional defiance of normality alternatives

#poetry - all he could remember

molly bloom must be what happens when a woman has sex
and she just rambles on and she just keeps going and going
and when she's going she's thinking and that's what
must be why she takes so long to come and why i am thinking about it so much

i'm going out she said i'm going out i'm going out
and i saw there was something to smoke in her hand
and i decided to go out too and so i thought hard for a moment
i just needed to stand and walk and so i stood and walked
and i could be having something of a staring contest
with the left side of my brain waiting for the rightful thoughts
to take their place on the side mountain of my creative notions
there to be thwarted by the staccato signature noises of the tapping of my shoe

but i couldn't answer her when she asked me what am i in the mood for
i couldn't even too quickly realize the subject was music
sweet music the kind that would augment my inner killing inner killing
the kind that would take my uhh and make it ahh make it ahh
and who could be calling me right now at 10:30
she says i shouldn't answer but then pretends for that person
she knows what they were going to say and then tells me its private
and cannot be shared which is fine because i was feeling a little reserved anyway

and i turned my head when the lightning came to be one great part of the sky
before the music fading made a few non fading noises to waken what was fallen
and moving once or moving twice it came for me and i didn't mind it all
because there was only some child's notion in me that what was happening
should not be happening everything else was well I was okay with it
and so i nodded and tapped my toes on the wood and didn't feel it but saw it
and then the wine needed sipping but that came before another drag and got in the way
and took a little longer than usual which was fine it needed to happen
and then that drag which reminds me there was a captain of a company
and there was a moment when he put the light in her face which was all he was supposed to do
and he realized this and that was the missing ingredient in his mind
and then he knew that was all he was supposed to do
even if it took him another year or lifetime or eternity
even if it was only once every shaking of the earth that he brought the light to her face
that was all and he took another drag and another sip and the lightning came again
and then the music fading got smoother and that was all he could remember

#poetry - the dead spot

woke up to a dead spot
in the life of all life
that came to be a living death
slowly over time

at first we had a doctor
he was not so nice
gave us something
we didn't want
put us out on ice

then we had just ourself
guessing at the game
guessed we were alright
but we had to
guess again

then we had policemen
knocking down our door
they had brought
more doctors
just to be sure

couldn't lose the dead spot
it had come to life
being such a drag and
sucking all the time

not to say there was no hope
but it kept us low
everyday we
had to try
breathing was a chore

what had kept us going on
was a memory
of being fine
and the promise that we could
all be fine again

there was always something good
trying to get out
of the cloak
we always wore
and be what we were

always there's a dead spot
though we have more life
it will take what it can
and widdle down our time

having gone through it all
we are more mature
and can take
the slowing of
our heart in its detour

there are next door neighbors
there are distant friends
there are candlesticks
and there our
story ends

we could be factors
in a random poll
but the question
is too long
to be caught in whole

always there's a dead spot
cutting through our life
taking what it can and
widdling down the time

we can't lose the dead spot
it blossoms from our life
dragging like a fallen flag
it sucks in all the time

we wake and there's a dead spot
our life our precious life
comes to be a living death
this slowly over time

#poetry - Diggers in the Barrels

the man woke up
and he saw the stain
the girl walked out
in the pouring rain

it took him hours
but he felt the shame
she had already
got on board the train

the man fell asleep
overwhelmed by pain
then his heart gave out
he no more remains

diggers
in the barrels
figures
more and more
questions
put to sparrows
oh my god
what's it for

the girl broke down
when she heard the news
the black ball pocketed
before the cue

it took her years
to forget the truth
cause the truth kept coming
running through and through

then along came the day
she knew what to do
set a black sled running
down the mountain dew

diggers
in the barrels
figures
more and more
questions
put to sparrows
oh my god
what's it for

the mountain man woke
heard the old girl scream
but he didn't know that
it wasn't a dream

so he took out his pole
went down to the stream
where he thought out loud
to the golden beams

fishy fishy waits
till i make it seem
that all is right
by this golden gleam

diggers
in the barrels
figures
more and more
questions
put to sparrows
oh my god
what's it for

#poetry - "In the Year of Our Lord" #NewYearsEve

"In the Year of Our Lord"

Another year, Old Man
Another year, Young Lady.
Do I see your baldness showing,
Do I see your hair its graying.
Now I see your head with Wisdom,
Curved with thought and shining,
Now I see the youth of old bannering
And how the years are flying.

Teaspoon mirrors---now look,
they bow and bend,
Riddles rused us once, 
oh ha-ha! but now we mend,
And in this year, in this long year,
Death's Age we shall end
And moving thus, will have no fear
For from this open cage we shall send

Our Soul
   on to the infinite Joy
And there it shall go
   on to the infinite Joy
To where only Who knows,
   on to the infinite Joy,
What was once ebb, is now flow,
   and on to the infinite Joy
                     We go!!!

#poetry - morning prayer

if i die tomorrow
that would be okay
i want to live forever
but i'll settle for today

#poetry - unto its ghosts

the rooms are full of ghosts
clawing over themselves
to be reborn in the moments
and remember again
what it senses like through
the window of this world

the moments do not care for ghosts
who will forever claw
but will only shortly live
and will mostly be forgotten
the sensory enjoyed by others
mostly knowing only this world

the others have made way
to spin mirrors and shine themselves
on in all directions and for
as long as the mirrors spin
the others control the particles
and will not render this world

unto its ghosts

her life and my art

"her life and my art"

her life had none of her art
and her art had little life.

but her life was nonetheless
a brush fire beside a wishing well
underneath a loud overpass
where poets roast each other
on a winter's solstice
caught forever in Saturn Return
never to see daylight again

and that vision of her life is my art
so we are even and thankful to have each other.

bad news folks

the only art is life---
artists think they're artists,
but they're not--
                         they only
imitate, at worst, and
record, at best, life. and
                        life is the
only art.
                ---baahdahnooozoozooz

"how we rose"

"how we rose"

no love is ever lost
but ever found
and ever new

no ashes scattered
touch the ground
without promising dew

no life that passes
gives a light that
shadows take for granted

no person that dies
ascends without a story
of having first landed

no father or son parted
nor mother daughter more
can ever be sure

but no one departed
has gone or come
unnoticed by someone

tell the story
no other can tell
of how we rose
before we fell