#poetry - Soul Mate Lessons

If I both need and want you
It may be best to try both less,
Diamonds are made by pressure, yes,
But organic matter needs space to grow,
And growth has more worth than diamonds
For diamonds are the sum of extreme anti-growth,
A possession by a mountainous bully,
An excavation by a greed monger,
A testament to nothing except just one element of wonder,
That pressure creates something harder than a rock.

But have you ever seen a diamond without the craft
Of a hand that is organic?
The growth behind the hand, the growth of that hand's art
The growth of that hand's patience
The growth of that hand's understanding
All come to focus on the surface of the diamond
To polish and shape and create something new and valuable.

It is not the diamond that matters
It is the hand that made it worth wearing
And the hand that gives it to someone worth giving
And the hand that receives it and wears it true.

But to earn all this there must first be growth.
Growth of love and trust and patience and dedication.
Growth of spirit and mind and body
Growth of awareness of Soul.

I have seen two trees planted four feet apart.
They grew to a height of ten feet,
And then something dictated that they must grow apart,
Perhaps a drought
or perhaps their palms were overstimulated and they took each other's light.

So they bowed outward from one another, so both could florish,
Not flourish, so both could merely survive,
And they did this for another three feet,
And then,
Perhaps because in their growth they became more aware of the Soul,
More aware that they were each other's mates,
More aware that for no reason should they ever be parted,
More aware of the difference between survival and flourishing,
These two trees grew back to within four feet of one another,
And continued to grow for another ten feet,
Flourishing all the way.

I have never seen a diamond grow that way.
Perhaps if I could live long enough, I might see a mountain grow that way,
But I don't think so.
I know a river grows that way in somewhat of a way, winding back and forth,
And I know hands are always growing that way,
Coming in close to hold
Leaving for a short time
And yearning to be close again holding

I wish there were a better way than to want and need less
But we're all only a mortal entity
And we all only have so much time to transpire
And so we are prone to boughts of survival fits
We are prone to focus on shortages from time to time
We are prone to lose sight of our Soul and our Mate,
And sadly, we are prone to suffer for the loss of these two sights,
Sadly, it is only when the sight of our mate reaches the zenith of the horizon
And becomes silohuette, becomes only memory, becomes the well of regret,
Becomes the spring of remorse, becomes the tears of shame,
Becomes utter and undying loss
Becomes the worst that could ever happen or be conceived to happen,
Sadly, only then, and with all the pain such a then can muster,
Sadly, only then are we shaken to awake
Shaken to reverse
Shaken to recall and cling on and hold on and fight to regain
Shaken to give up everything for just one more moment
And so hopeful that it is not too late.

Why? Because that is the way it works.

The lesson that Soul Mates teach to one another.

#poetry - Odysseus and Penelope

Driving out to the middle of no where
I keep my back to the road---
My mind is on the field and the sky
My heart is tuned to the horizon
My spirit pervades the earth
My soul is this universe
My life is only a demonstration of pure being
My love is patient for me and waits till I return home
     

             And now I have arrived


We have many stories to tell
Though laughter and tears are many, silence is one.

#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 - The Dragon and The Prophet and the Soulmate Memory Song

"The Dragon and The Prophet and the Soulmate Memory Song"

Enter the Dragon

She caught the Dragon's
eye when
he overheard her
question
about the state of
nothing,
"Exactly what is
nothing?"

That all depends what
is is---
but it ain't none of your
business,
so don't be fronting
miss miss,
or you'll be melting
fizz fizz!

Until you know the
Whiz Kid,
you shouldn't be so
wicked,
there ain't no justice
mid-lid---
And that one's from the
Prophet :)

Then the Prophet Came and Sang

i do my days
i do my nights
i do the wild wonder
i do the holy thunder

i learn my lessons
i win my fights
i hear the music on the stair
i bottle lightning with the air

i see ole Lucifer go home
i see Michael return to Rome
i see you try to walk with him
i see no sinews and no limbs

waiting now waiting for you to kneel
to tell you then how to use your eye
to show you i's past-present-future
beaming outward of every creature


And The Soulmate Memory's Beaming

I think back now and
remember you,
the tide of days was shorter,
your hair kept growing longer.

Remember what we
liked to do?
When singing of all places,
we flailed ourselves in dances.

But we couldn't keep ourselves
connected,
we tried and tried and tried and tried---
we tried until we both had died!

I guess what else can be
expected
without our bodies to collide,
except to find the other side?

So I wonder if you'll get a chance
to hear this---
You are the music of my sea,
I know you feel the same of me.

I remember you now, I remember
our bliss---
Your life, a song and my eternity,
and Heaven now is just about to be!

  
     
         ~:::}}}}}}Angels{{{{{{:::~

#Fiction -- in that nowhere place, NAS

i'll go on and take it happily from you. and by you and what you say, it must be true. go on and let it be thus. to myself and others---all that NAS happens to say is truth. i'm in that nowhere place right now, NAS---means nothing that i know i'm here. the bastards are here with me. fire-heat and noise of no origin steps forward with claim---could not be yet they do.

and not a thing contemplated in passing nor with a fully developed conscious shield conscience between you(me) and it. like cavemen who think about stars while looking at them, see the melting string cheese of it all. always beaming the connection never broken---those damn stars even after supernova appearing, all of them the same, to be here on this earth just as well as they are where they are and just as that! has always been the truth.

and you go out walking afterward and you see the eyes and the knowledge from those eyes, thirsty to drink from your cup---here is the quantum singularity meeting ground for trans-dimensional travelers making best use of the belt-way anima built long ago for them, populating the bodies with diverse mind. sometimes multiple-hugging in and overlapping and cacophonating withing a single voice box. sometimes sword fighting play fighting shadow playing verbal sparring jazz riffing between multiple bodies. always anything absolutely you can think of, it can be and does---this being in every way you can think of whether you know you are thinking it or not.

i thought i was about to sleep or was sleeping. i thought i was exhausted. i had that feeling i had been talking on the phone a long time, but a long time ago, with someone dear to me and that i or she or both fell asleep and the phone was still to my ear and the connection was still alive and that with waking i felt an urge to check to see if she was still there, awake and waiting for me to respond to her latest breath.

and i said "what?"

and i heard "so."

and i had to be silent and weather an ice cold rush in my stomach and up around my temples when i realized i was not holding a phone and there was no phone. but i had heard a voice. and i was alone. and then my legs kicked without me asking them to kick.

and her voice said "boom."

and my breathing got thick, NAS. and i'm not a rookie at this and i'm just writing you now. and already i feel better. well, i know i shouldn't because out there they are waiting. but i am going for a cigarette. if i must, i will see you on the otherside of whatever is opposite the otherside. here's to heavy eyelids in the middle of nowhere.

i'll split a vial of codeine with you. seventeen pots of the blackest coffee. well those will be for me. all for you will be 144 tea bags of chosen by you assortment. two cartons of cigarettes. 8 cases of beer. seven bottles of wine. thirteen loaves of air tight stowed french baguette. sharp white cheddars. and gruyeres. and asiagos. two bottles of extra virgin olive oil. one bottle of peppercorns with a built in grinder. two boxes of clementines, about 84 clementines in all. 48 individual pita shells. two gallons of spiced humus. one pint of your homemade hot sauce. 36 whole wheat hamburger buns matched to 36 veggie burger patties. 3 gallons pink grapefruit juice. 6 liters seltzer water. 20 fluid ounces or more of the worst tasting whiskey money or good looks can buy.

six blankets each. two thick pillows. two ipods with 18,000 songs and 25 lithium battery reserves matching a bose sound dock. and though not necessary, 1 ounce of green dragon dust, a 1/2 ounce of this variety a 1/2 ounce of that. and 2 tubs of american spirit free leaf with 400 rolling papers, and the night sky, and 1/4 cord of season dry wood. and three keys of harmonicas, a, b-sharp, d.

and the stage i we shall split.  take turns with the spirits who enter and redefine us awhile while we howl and yield to impulse and dance. to this interpretive dance, and that interpretation, and this extemporaneous story, of that original being or of being without origin. and to bring each other back one will hold the other, draw heart to heart, and retrain the other mind to the soulness of its mate.

we are the actual, we are not the seem

so
you know how to reveal
as well as you hide.
you're just like me, i suppose.

but we should try now
to get this thing right
while we're both still young.

a dying pharaoh commands
his servants to tear out their eyes
and denies them the privilege
to look upon his demise.

when the caesars and kings of spain
take brides on first night
their praetorian privy councils stand
fast round the bed out facing,
wax stopping their ears.

the manager fires his laborer
only after he has done so
in the mirror a hundred times---
he takes curtain calls
from his dressing room,
he drinks coffee while he masturbates,
he's a weird mofo and hard to calculate.

the bank teller has his own
ranking system from years on years
of eyes on accounts though
his smile and tenor seem to
treat each and every one the same.
here is one anyone can relate to---
a deceiver so obvious and common,
remarkably rare anyone is spared
his discerning eye.

the trashmen know who the real users
of the system are by the weight
of each week's barrel,
yet they hum the same tunes
down every street
as though a day's fare were only a weekly haul,
as if the week were nothing at all,
as if the haul was just a job
where money was involved---
but of course it is more.

i don't wish everyone a good day.
not for malice or insecurity,
not for lack of something to say,
but honestly and consciously for balance---
he gets his, she gets hers,
and that one there gets nothing.
these are just my wishes,
one guy's wishes, but
my wishes are precious, after all,
and few. and heard.

here's one now---
that between me and you
there is no mask, persona, guise, strategy---
but that there is no need for such things,
for there is no shame---
especially between us.

if we are stupid or genuine,
if we are caring or callous,
if we are cavalier or malicious,
then that is what we are.

if we are trapped and confused,
feel the twinge of self-destruction
or the sting and burn of self-idolization,
and we hear it in our minds
and remain silent nonetheless,
so be it.

high or low or equidistant between---
we are the actual, we are not the seem.

i also suppose there can only be
one other who anyone can be like this with.
one half for any other half---only.
just one and one mating within each soul.
truly.

all else is apparition
or preposition
or side order
and segue
and set-up---
all else is the moment of silence
before the real applause.

pharoah and king
made true bedmates
with the godly air.

bosses with prudence.

bankers with balance.

haulers with ethics.

strangers with silence.

but we are not like any of them,
though we may sometimes wear them
and many other masks.
the half instant before we snap it on,
we are the amorphous loving soul,
and in the dizzying afterward,
sometimes we regain ourselves.

i know this, at least in this moment.
and in this moment, i know you know this too.
and i know in your heart of hearts,
when you think of me, you think of you too,
and you use the word we
and you catch yourself doing it
and have no idea why or what to do next,
and so far, in my opinion, you've been quite
exquisite---though by no fault of your own,
we've not talked about it till now.


who knows why or how,
but time can stand still upon a moment
so long that every bit of truth gathers,
and sometimes we move forward with knowledge,
and sometimes we move forward jaded by knowledge
and ultimately forgetful and in spite of ourselves.

and other times,
though we would have it otherwise and well,
time moves so forcefully,
we've no time to think or reflect or behave as we would,
and all our sandcastles get kicked
by our clumsy, time-confused feet---
we redden, humiliated,
and humiliated, we worsen the effect,
feeling not accountable and besieged
and called upon to stand up
for some nameless ideal---
like poverty-stricken shoplifters,
with two hours worth of bread in the pocket---
LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
(screams and echoes)

but now, the ball is rolling.
you know i've always used truth as my ploy.
right now you're eying this ball,
thinking its a trap of some kind,
inexorably eating up all the free space
you would otherwise use to hide in.

that, it is doing, yes. and well.

for both our sake now
take off that mask.
it makes you look stupid before us,
and i wince because of it.

i, for one, think we're better
than you're making us out to be.
and you must respect the i,
for i wouldn't be here,
engaged in all this,
if it weren't for you.

and you wouldn't be reading this far
if you didn't have a clue
as to what we are.
and what are we?
two halves of one soul, ageless,
trapped for a moment in time-bound bodies,
against all odds having found each other,
acting out scripts written by confounded minds,
minds confounded by temporary concerns,
concerns that include every parameter
necessary to keep our one soul torn,
engaged in a drama inherited from days
fabricated by looming boredom,
boredom which is default for half-hearts,
half-souls still searching,
who comprise the magnificent majority,
who thrive in upheaval,
who try to churn every wave and particle,
who are yet satisfied by life,
we are not like them!
we are done in the search.
we did it.
we, against the odds, found each other.

let's just whisper now
its not for us
to show them how we do it.