Poetry

journal

Poetry is that old world ability to put to words the human condition. Poetry is eternal. It is at once a painting, photograph, and sculpture of a moment’s memory. Out of every talent we may possess as writers, poetry by far is our blood put to paper.

There is immense healing from both reading and writing poetry.

Below are are a selection of quotations and poems that I myself have written. Please forgive me the mess of things. I am attempting to compile a better way to share these moment’s memories of my life. I ask you to be kind and forgiving, many of these were written during my days as a young man whose loins burned with the pain of the past.

Any comments would be greatly cherished. I hope you will be inspired. Namaste.

.:POETRY:.

UNTITLED – Wednesday, 11 MAY 2016

What would the world look like without flowers? With buds that refuse to bloom? Terribly uneventful, a world without blossoms is a world without perfume, or bees, or butterflies. A world without inspiration. From whence would we gain our courage to love? Utterly desolate – our chances would be.

Baby Blessing: Welcome to the Light – Saturday, 13 SEP 2014

Adapted in part from Joanna Powell Colbert’s Gaian Tarot, “Children”

Through the pain of a mother’s song –
The Child is welcomed into the light.
Out of the gates of Woman’s Mysteries
The Innocent is born.

Holding our hopes in your tiny hands –
Listening to our every word.
Little One, Ancestor in the waking.
You will prepare the way for descendants yet to come.

Sister, Daughter, Lady Hawk, Friend;
Children show us how to look at everything with new eyes.
They show how to be loved, nurtured, and held.
They set an example of learning, wondering, and beginning.
A Child teaches how to encounter the natural world of new possibilities.
With laughs of delight, a Child gazes at butterflies and the flames of a campfire.
With laughs of delight, a Child gazes at crystals and seashells like jewels.
A Child knows the secrets of the cosmos without yet speaking
But dear one, with time the memories fade.
And this is what you will do.

Where you were before is past.
And where you are now is present.
And where you will be will be your future.

The Child’s time is a curious and wondering time.
The time in between birth and adulthood.
Between rebirth and exploration.
Between sky and ocean.
Heavens and stars.
Their time is the dawn,
When sun holds the horizon.
A wise child, Albert Einstein has said, “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”
In seeking these wild and liminal times and places in Nature, we gain deep whimsy of the soul and find the fae around every corner.

In all of these actions, the Children and Little Ones know,
The Deep Truth that these are all riches beyond measure.

The Children:
The Starseeds.
The Criers in the Night.
The Creation of Light and Innocence,
Beloved,
Sing songs, and shout prayers to the four winds.

The Makings of a Child are simple:
Sugar and spice, and everything nice.
Snips and snails, and puppy-dog tails.
And they are determined to see that love
Continues, generation to generation.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Poetry.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Mystery.

Singing Blessings of Farewell – Saturday, 13 SEP 2014

(To be sung along with Sigur Rós – Ára Bátur)

We saw you. We love you.
We will remember you.
We will. We will.

We held you. We walked with you.
We will remember you.
We will. We will.

We laughed with you. We cried with you.
We will remember you.
We will. We will.

When days are gray. When nights are dark.
We will be here for you.
We will. We will.

When days are bright. When nights are light.
We will be there.
We will. We will.

Go you must. Go we trust.
We are here.
We are. We are.

So come and be loved. So come and be loved. (Open arms in hugging)
We are here. We are there. We are.
We are. We are. We are.

So come and be loved. So come and be loved.
We love you. We love you. We love you.
We love you!

The Makings of a Parent – 3 AUG 2014

Adapted in part from Joanna Powell Colbert’s Gaian Tarot, “Guardians”

(Feel free to substitute pronouns for your own need)

Holding Life in your hands –
Loving it with giving counsel.
Guardians, Ancestors in the making.
You will prepare the way for descendants yet to come.

Brother, Son, Husband, Friend, and now Father;
Fathers show how “when passions are shared and combined they can create a bonfire big enough to light up the entire sky.”
They show how to be nurturing, creative, productive, and being fulfilled in the explorations of self.
They set an example of a life well-lived and well-loved.
A Father teaches how to pay attention to what has true meaning where only the heart resides.
With a warm heart, a Father guards and nurtures personal power, passion, and transformation.
A Father knows how to channel the life force silently but powerfully, seeing and hearing clearly in the dark.
This is what you will do.

Sister, Daughter, Wife, Friend, and now Mother;
Mothers show how to “open our hearts to compassion, intuition, and deep love.”
They show how to be nurturing, creative, productive, and being fulfilled in the explorations of self.
They set an example of a life well-lived and well-loved.
A Mother teaches how to see straight through to the core of things where only truth remains.
With a natural radiance, a Mother guards and nurtures forgiveness, peace, dreams, and healing.
A Mother knows how to encourage harmony silently but powerfully, seeing and hearing clearly in the dark.
This is what you will do.

The Guardian’s time is a scary but fulfilling time.
The time in between adulthood and elderhood.
Between youth and old age.
Between valley and mountain.
Waterfall and sky.
Their time is the evening,
When sun holds the horizon.
A wise parent, Joyce Maynard has said, “It’s not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can’t tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself.”
In seeking these wild and liminal times and places in Nature, we gain deep peacefulness of soul and find the strength to keep calm in the midst of a storm.

The Parent teaches us to “seek out these wild and magical places that fill our hearts with gratitude.”

The Guardian is also known for kindness and has as skill for deep talking,
Deep listening too.
They open sacred space
Wherever they are, because they know that any place, any time, can be a container for the Sacred
With right vision and intention.
Gentle and strong, a Parent spins and weaves
Harmony
In the tapestry of home and community
To one day, with a prayer and many tears, be the one to let go and watch their child fly.
The Guardian knows most of all how to say “Fly free, I will always love you.”

In all of these actions, the Parent and Guardian knows,
The Deep Truth that these are all riches beyond measure.

The Guardians:
The Protectors.
The Tired Keepers of the Crib.
The Creators of Life and Innocence,
Sing songs, and shout prayers to the four winds.

The Makings of a Parent are simple:
They are living life through,
And they are determined to see that life
Continues, generation to generation.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Poetry.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Mystery.

For She Was A Woman Who Loved -9 JUN 2014

With a pounding heart, she began to write

– the love letter she never received,
and wanted to share with the world.
(for She was a woman who Loved.)

With a bleeding heart, she began to see
– the pain she never spoke of,
and wanted to share with the world.
(porque Ella era una mujer que Amaba.)

With a leaping heart, she began to dance
– the music she never sang out loud,
and wanted to share with the world.
(car Elle était une femme qui Aimait.)

With a hungry heart, she began to hunt
– the journey she never started,
and wanted to share with the world.
(pois Ela era uma mulher que Amava.)

With an accepting heart, she began to cry
– the life and hand she never took,
and wanted to share with the world.
(per Lei era una donna che Amava.)

With a joyous heart, she began to smile
– the words she stamped and sealed,
and would share with the world.
For She was a woman who Loved!

Now That I Have Found You – 19 APR 2014

So true…
Sad to say that is something I do not do.
But maybe but maybe, there is a light in that too.
…Now that I. Have. Found. You.

You are so brave to just go, without even a care.
With only a smile, and wind in your hair.
I’ve done it once, but again? Who knows?
But of course there are so many questions I could pose.
What will we do? Where will I be?
Would you want to come and follow me?
Is there really no time but here and now?
The universe clock is ticking with a big tick pow!
The time is here, this is it.
Should I just pout with crossed arms and sit?
Hell no my love, even if I cry!
Even if I’m scared or even if I sigh.
Because I love you, and see?
There is still so much we could be.
I would be a fool, a dummy,
A Wonka McFumbly.
But I will never drop your heart or your hand,
Not for as long as there is air and there is sand.
Not for anything, its you and me til the end,
Until we can no longer walk, or our hearts mend.
Until the universe clock stops ticking with a big tick pow!
I don’t care, I love you; in the here and now!

The Makings of An Elder -28 MAR 2014

Adapted from Joanna Powell Colbert’s Gaian Tarot, “Elders”

Holding Wisdom in his hands –
Passing it on with giving counsel
Teacher, Ancestor in the making.
You will prepare the way for descendants yet to come.

Brother, Son, Husband, Father, Friend;
Elders show how “vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.”
They show how to experience communion with the Great Mystery through worship, praise, and meditation.
They set an example of a life well-lived.
An Elder teaches how to be a song of peace and healing for the world.
This is what you do.

Elders live in la epoca del mito, the Otherworld, in the Time of Myth.
Their gaze is directed, potent, challenging.
They see right through our masks, and remind us to embrace our vulnerability not with shame, but with courage.
Elders remind us to open up to the world of energy and spirit, and they never sit back and accept things as they appear because
They embody the power of transformation.

The Elder’s time is a liminal time.
The time in between night and day.
Between shore and sea.
Between mountain and sky.
Sky and the stars.
Their time is the gloaming,
When sun paints the horizon.
A wise Elder, Rumi, has taught us that “the  breeze at dawn has secrets to tell. Don’t go back to sleep.” In seeking these wild and liminal times and places in Nature, we gain deep peacefulness of soul and find the strength to keep calm in the midst of a storm.
The Elder teaches us to “seek out these wild and magical places that fill our hearts with gratitude.”

The Elder is also known for kindness and has as skill for deep talking,
Deep listening too.
They open sacred space
Wherever they are, because they know that any place, any time, can be a container for the Sacred
With right vision and intention.
Gentle and strong, the Elder spins and weaves
Harmony
In the tapestry of home and community
To one day, with a prayer and tears, cut the Threads of Life.
The Elder knows most of all how to say “Hello and Good Bye.”

In all of these actions, the Elder knows,
The Deep Truth that these are all riches beyond measure.

The Elders:
The Wisdom Keepers.
The Silver-haired Tricksters.
The Transformers of Life and Death,
Sing songs, and whisper prayers to the four winds.

The Makings of an Elder are simple:
They have lived life through,
And they are determined to see that life
Continues, generation to generation.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Poetry.
Until the end and beginning again of
Life’s Great Mystery.

Mantle of Brighid – Sunday, 2 FEB 2014

Lady of the well and flame, hear me.
Tender of the weak, revive me.
Midwife of the world, let me cry.

Poet of the silent tongue, speak to me.
Woman of the Wild, restore me.
Sister of the blood, let me live.

Champion of the land, protect me.
Healer of the Sacred, reach me.
Hammer of the just, let me rage.

Teacher of the Cunning Arts, inspire me.
Quiver of the Fiery Arrow, strike me.
Mother of the worthy, let me love.

Beneath your blanket, comfort me.
And guide me through the Deep.

In Search of the Wild One – Wednesday, 29 JAN 2014

I stand tall at the mouth of discovery, my stomach growls and my mouth waters.
My bare feet touch the earth below and I know I am not that far away.
I have hunted for the wild since birth,
Born from a snow storm, and unloved by a father.
A mere puppet for a mother to play house,
My heart always knew the wild.

As I grew, the wild retreated into the darkness,
And only visited me in my dreams.
La Loba howled at me from the corner of my room,
“Remember,” was whispered as she chewed her bones.
Terror in the night fueled me, kept my spirit aware
Of the predator in the next room over.

Wolf was my companion,
He taught me how to act weak while still alive.
And helped me hide the bruises and find the secret language.
He taught me how to be quiet while tears and snot dripped from my chin.
And helped me hide the voices and find the secret medicine.
He was my companion.

So I stand here at the foot of the cave, face painted with blood.
I venture ever onward towards that sound from the corner of the grotto,
“Remember!” it screams as shadows play with bones.
I hear it, a howl from within, a deep-dark beckons to speak its voice.
I am hungry and my tongue is thirsty, and there is no other way to go,
But onward and downward and upward and onward.

In search of the wild, The Wild One within.

When Santa was a Woman – Tuesday, 24 DEC 2013

And so, all of the town was waiting
for Saint Nick.
Will she come to your home, I wonder,
is your soul sick?

Make your holiday wishes and
hope with all your might,
for she will grant you your one heart’s wish
this Christmas night.

Santa comes to everyone,
young and old,
all who have kindness and love
in their aura of gold.

Is spirit in you now and always,
is it so hard to conceive?
I hope so, I hope so
on this night of Christmas Eve.

Prayers of Remembrance – Monday, 11 NOV 2013

You left to help, you left to save.
You left to cry, and we to weep.
You left to honour, you left to fight.
You left to cry, and we to weep.

You went not to rape, not to torture.
You left to cry, and we to weep.
You went not to hate, not to spit.
You left to cry, and we to weep.

You traveled to defend the woods.
You traveled to defend the peace.
You traveled to defend the waters.
You traveled to defend the peace.

You left, and went, and traveled far. But-
You did not return.
You did not return as you left us. No-
You did not return as you left us.

Now you do not cry, now we do not weep.
Instead we remember you, our warriors.
Now you do not cry, now we do not weep.
Our lovers, sisters, brothers, friends.

We remember you in our actions, our thoughts, and our deeds.
To honour your memory, to honour your love.
Now you do not cry, now we do not weep.
We remember you, and we love you.
And we will live on.

(For those who have perished and been lost, on both sides of the front. For those who never had the thirst of blood upon their tongues. Who went, and who never wanted to kill, until they had to. For the healers, protesters, and peace makers who have also lost their lives in the process.)

Ancestor’s Telephone Call- Monday, October 7th 2013

Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring. Ring.

Deep sleep spins webs of connectivity.
The silver threads linking hearts and memory through all time.
They speak to us on these phone lines of the soul that are grounded in our DNA.
Through the ages, our heritage calls to us, seeks us out, offering advice on whispers of the wind.
Winds which passed through their same lungs that they themselves heard when they were young, supple, and alive.
The things we would learn!
The stories we can pass down to our children and children’s children: a call that may seem so long-distance yet comes on a pre-paid phone and karma the currency.
Deep sleep keeps on spinning us, weaving our own webs to the family’s tree.
Silver dangles and sings like the banshee: loud at first, but only to grab our attention. Which then drifts and lulls us to bring peace to our dying hearts whose connection lines may seem frail, and may be severed from time to time, but they never truly dissolve.
Blood is blood.
Memory is thicker than society.
And so when our spirits mature, and their advice speaks to us as we cross the street or stare at a blinking light, we are reminded once more, by the call from an ancestor, to keep us going.
Learn.
Live.
And then die.
To learn.
And live and die once more.
The cycle of the message is clear: don’t waste the chance to eat, drink, sleep and fuck.
Don’t waste the chance to explore the inner and outer realms of the spirit because when we truly do grow wings and fly towards paradise we will need that experience to make the necessary choices for what next is to come.
Do not fear the life lived afterwards. Because really, we forget it anyway, unless we decide to stick around and bother the nephew who just can’t get himself together.
But until then, we live and continue to love. And we smile, and we cry. We sing, and we moan with pleasure and heartache. We take the next days, weeks, months, years and cycle the spinning web of Life…and…Death, for however long the spirit that is the Universe decides to remain on the line.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring. Ring.

Cat Tales- Sunday, September 8th 2013

In the wet bush they stand,
Sentinels ever watchful,
Over picnicing lovers and drug lords.
Their tails have stories,
Detailing the who is who.
The shaman who sits by the willow,
And the hipster who is homeless.
The wife living with MS and three kids who love to play with the frogs,
And the married attorney with three kids and a crack addiction.
If only more stopped to hear,
The tales of true history:
The blushing tales of the park glade.

A Blessing for Peace – Tuesday, August 27th 2013

Mighty Warriors
I bless
thee, Oh
Mighty Strength
your flags
wave towards
the South
On winds
that smell
of blood.

*

Mighty Healers
I bless
thee, Oh
Mighty Love
your flags
wave towards
the West
On winds
that smell
of brine.

**

Mighty Visionaries
I bless
thee, Oh
Mighty Creativity
your flags
wave towards
the North
On winds
that smell
of earth.

***

Mighty Teachers
I bless
thee, Oh
Mighty Patience
your flags
wave towards
the East
On winds
that smell
of peace.

****

In response to the struggles in Syria.
May we all find peace. 

What is Transforming Within You? – Wednesday, August 14th 2013

Stop. Listen…
Do you feel that?
That small little something tugging at
Heart-strings?
Do you hear them whispering?

Stop. Breathe…
Do you hear that?
That small little something tugging at
Soul-strings?
Do you feel them dancing?

Stop. Look…
Do you sense that?
That small little something tugging at
Mind-strings?
Do you see them transforming?

Look in the mirror and
have a look.
Do you like what you see?
Do you love what you see?
Do you accept what you see?

I do.

You Tempt Me Ever So- Saturday, August 3rd 2013

Little sweet amethyst,
A crystal upon the vine.
You tempt me ever so,
Licking you with tongue of mine.
I will savour you when ready,
And press you into wine.
You tempt me ever so,
Oh grape jewel upon the vine.

Dance the Winds- Friday, August 2nd 2013

Seeds of harvest
The little wings of giants,
Such potential in small containers.
Such a force for rings of time,
That feed us all on lungs of sweet maple sugar.
Dance little ones, dance the winds.

Abundance- Saturday, July 13th 2013

Abundance,
that feeling of colour,
And grace!
Heart pumping nourishment,
And peace!
-Dance to that drum,
And laugh!
So, so grateful…

Walking with Mist- Sunday, 7 July 2013

The mist is only an illusion.
It challenges your courage and questions how far you are willing to go.
Walking the mist filled path is a lifetime journey.
With many rivers, bends, and hills.
With interesting and mythical creatures, who just so happen to be your next door neighbors.
What you learned from Mother Goose, was just the turn of the iceberg.
Because at the end of the day,
The mists part, and the stars shine true the way as clear as the Sun.
And you but only have to step forward,
Through the mist.
Towards?

Avalon.

In Protecting the Defenseless- Wednesday 3 July 2013

Feathered, furred, scaled, and finned.
Brothers, sisters, friends.
From fields to cages,
May you be protected.

Feathered, furred, scaled, and finned.
Beings, souls, voices.
May you be heard.

Feathered, furred, scaled, and finned.
Divine, beautiful, eyes.
May you be seen.

Caretakers, doctors, walkers, and “owners.”
Brothers, sisters, friends.
May you be blessed.

Starberry Haiku- Tuesday, 2 July 2013

Little bush on cliff.
Starberries- wait to eat,
The essence of prayer.

Blessing of Midsummer- Thursday, 20 June 2013

Morning’s first kiss, tastes of strawberries and sunlight. It touches my skin, every cell tingles while goosefleshed adrenaline flows through me. The sun’s healing light fills my heart as I move in salutation. My hands full. My feet move with purpose. My steps move down the Indian trail, to the mouth of the waterfall cave. Fresh water hits my cheeks- I’m touched by a rainbow bridge to the Otherworld: I bathe in Summer’s waters. Clean and energized I make my journey to the midday, so close to spirit without shadow, the light burns bright from above. Around and around the labyrinth spins, open to lake waters. Sacred stones placed to follow its dance in the sky, on this longest of days. Blessings of roses, picnics, community, and deep green grasses. Of sweet sweet honey, ice creme cones, fireflies, and mermaid sisters. Painter’s light once more fills the air, as the day begins to wane. The earth hushes, and waits for you to listen. To listen to the Sun’s final performance amongst the gloaming as solstice fires are lit and kept burning, deep into the night. Stories pass from one cycle to the next and the sun bows to say farewell. To say, “good day…”

Within the Raspberry Bush- Monday, 3 June 2013

Chipmunks eat granola, raisins, and cherries:
left as offerings for their friendship.
They dream tonight
of the feast to come
as blossom dew descends upon their eyelids.
Within the raspberry bushes of Summer.

A Litany for the Ancestors- 23 OCT 2012

On the whispers of the wind,
we remember them;

In quiet tears of Hallowmas,
we remember them;
In holiday fires & falling snow of Midwinter,
we remember them;
In the light of candles on Candlemas,
we remember them;
In the storming aires & blooming flowers of Spring,
we remember them;
In the primal passions of Beltane,
we remember them;
In the relieving waters & dance of Midsummer,
we remember them;
In the rhythm of music on Lammas,
we remember them;
In the silent trees & crunching fallen leaves of Autumn,
we remember them;

When we are broken and in need of healing,
we remember them;
When we are lost and in need of guidance,
we remember them;
When we are happy and give thanks,
we remember them;
When we create and make art,
we remember them;
When we put to sleep our worries and dream again,
we remember them;
When we have love & joy we wish to share,
we remember them;

So as we live & love, they too shall live & love, for they are a part of us,
as we remember them.

-Adopted from “We Remember Them” The Gates of Prayer, a Reform Jewish prayerbook

I Would Sing the Dance of Fireflies- 12 June 2012

If I sang a song of Summer,

I would sing the dance of fireflies.

My lullaby would frolick across the winds,

Filling the hearts of bumble bees.

A cricket symphony of violins,

A deep bass of pond bullfrogs.

I would sing the dance of fireflies.

My lullaby would be of sunshine, of starshine.

The sound of lady and hummingbird wings.

If I sang a song of Summer,

We would make love by the light of the Moon.

Deep, Sweet Peace- 25 May 2012

Deep peace of Morning Sky to you
Deep peace of Fragrant Coffee to you
Deep peace of Cleansing Showers to you

Deep peace of Lunchtime retreats to you
Deep peace of Tickling Grasses to you
Deep peace of Sunshine Kisses to you

Deep peace of Afternoon Strolls to you
Deep peace of Floating Seeds to you
Deep peace of Crystal Caves to you

Deep peace of Nighttime Meditations to you
Deep peace of Sleepy-time Tea to you
Deep peace of Honeyed Breezes to you

Deep peace of the Followers and Nurturers of Peace to you
Love and Laughter pour their healing light onto you
Deep, sweet peace to you.

Inspired by a Gaelic Blessing…

Azaleas- 22 May 2012

Sweet Sagittarian Azalea,
You are such a fragile passion.
Five petals on your face,
Blush pink, as you tickle my nose.

Xiang shu my dear,
You make me think of home.
Of luxurious days spent pondering your beauty.
Of the scent of Spring that lingers around your roots.

Forget your long forgotten lover Tu Fu-
-Let me now, swim in “a sea of blood red azaleas.”
Let me dance amongst your branches,
A Green Man amongst the leaves…

My Love for you grows as you grow.
I long for your wonders to be shared.
I listen to your words compassionate:
“Take care of Yourself for Me.”

Shall we have a cup of tea?
Sharing in stories long ago?
Trusting each other, ever lasting.
My love for you shall surely never go.

Until we next meet…
You know that place-
Where butterflies smile
And drink deep of your nectar.

Where bees fly drunk,
Intoxicated by You.
Your dearest fan,
The Tree Poet Whisperer.

Incantation for The Divine Lover- 17 May 2012

i.
Divine Lover
The flowers smile-
I wait.
ii.
Divine Lover
The wind whispers softly-
I listen.
iii.
Divine Lover
My heart breaks against the shoreline-
Alone.
iv.
Divine Lover
I run fast as the Fox-
Tired.
v.
Divine Lover
Should I stop writing?
His phone number.
vi.
Divine Lover
I hear the branches crash-
Against the window.
vii.
Divine Lover
Is love alive?
Broken.
viii.
Divine Lover
I want to believe-
Again renewed.
ix.
Divine Lover
Come to me in the night
True visions.
x.
Divine Lover
I awaken my heart
To your possibility.
xi.
Divine Lover
My tea cup runs over-
I am wet.
xii.
Divine Lover
I breathe in the morning dew-
Alive.
xiii.
Divine Lover
My heart’s doors have blossomed-
Blessings.

Letter to Aphrodite- 15 May 2012

Dearest Aphrodite,
May my mortal words woo your embraces…

Ishtar, may each whisper echo from my lips to yours.
Diana, may each utterance tickle your passions,
Venus, may each touch be of gooseflesh.
Astarte, may each flick of my tongue open your pearl even larger-
-True Maidens of the Sea!

Lady’s, let us speak of adventures,
Of naughty mischief behind every branch,
Where nectar drips off of the leaves of endless possibility…

I would walk in the foam of the sea,
Wearing a wreath of myrtle, rose, apple, and poppy.
Waiting for a chance to look upon your golden face,
Your diamond eyes, your dove soft skin!
Let me be your Swan, and I promise such a flight!
Let us toss the feathers, and let them fall where they please.
For a night of pleasure is in front of us:
A feast of the senses!
What luxuries we should Touch.
What incense we should Smell.
What wine we should Taste.
What shall happen when our eyes meet?

Let my mortal attractions make warm the night,
As my heart pounds deeply against my ribs,
Where I quiver in ecstasy for your essence-
So pure, so proud!
I have washed in sea salted waters,
And lay bare with drizzled honey in your honour.
Naked, in my full form, I surrender.
And await thee, come hither!
Enter my heart, and taste my milk,
Let us overflow, and laugh in joy!
Delighting, playfully in the night,
And let the stars be our witnesses,
As I taste the sweet ambrosia of desire.
Blessed be!

This Poet’s Verse- 7 May 2012

This poet’s verse will be short and to the point, yet undoubtedly
impactful- for all prose is.
This poet’s mind has always been a magickal fantastical place, away
from the monotony of this realm. He creates his own- mere whispers
turn to tall tales. And small seeds grow to fields of unknown heights.
The extent to which, is unknown, even to him. For he is humble, and
modest. And yes, does not know how to take a compliment, however
deserving.

His heart has been asunder. Beaten. Scars and wounds go deep beneath
his glowing smiled face. Dark, wet pavement fills his nightmares with
faces unseen. His shining words are not just advice for others, but
for himself. Everyone has a dark side. A past we would rather forget.
But he survives! He knows the extra horrors of hiding. He grows, he
heals, and he learns by helping to nurture, to cure, and to teach.
These are his heart’s secrets.

His enlightenment comes from knowing. Knowing that he has not all the
answers. He seeks for them: in the stars, the clouds, in mere puffs of
exhaust smoke even. He sees into bird patterns, and butterfly spots.
Flower petal numbers, and grains of rice. His mind is a whirlwind- a
Spiral of perpetual thought. Memories both ancient and present and he
hopes for a better future.

His Spirit is olde, as far as he can remember. Images flash before his
eyes, burnt into his retinas. A martyred scorched-druid once, and a
bread baker the next. His eyes seem deep yet sparkle with a life, that
remembers one should always keep living, no matter the consequences.
Look there into that spot of sparkle: there is his truth. His reality.
For his soul is wilde, magickal, and true. Even if he makes a mistake,
all he can do is shake his head- And whisper it to the trees~

This poet is Me. And I love myself through and through. From mistake
to mistake. To each wonderful and blissful bad idea. Mind, body and
spirit. I adore thee! I shall shout to the heavens and reclaim myself
from dark clutches of denial!

I adore Me! From each freckle upon my skin, to the tips of my lips, to
the scent of my herbed hair. To my bare feet that walk the deep musky
Earth. My enchanting bliss and philosophy that may seem naïve, yet
ever so attractive. This is my prose. This is my life’s verse. Each
Sun another limerick. Each Moon a separate haiku. Dedicated in
balance:
Mind, emotional yet sharp!
Body, thin but not weak!
Spirit, afraid yet aflame with passion!
I reclaim Me, in all my wilde-ness, with all my fervor.
During this Beltanetide!
Namaste.

May Wisteria- 3 May 2012

Under the trees in the park.
The wisteria droop
Down, and fall as grapes.
They perfume the scent of your hair and I see
-You.
I see your Spirit
Flying above me, and I smell
Your Dove’s perfume. Kiss
Me. Softly, with your
Fingers.
And touch me gently
With thy tongue.

Sacred Directions – 18 APR 2012

“The Sacred Directions: North, East, South, West, Above, Below, Centered Within & Out.”
Sacred North: The Direction of Greater Coolness, Stability,& Earth Souls. It directs us towards the physical, the power of the earth beneath our bare feet and our own bodies.
It speaks to us: “Listen to your body & keep it healthy!””
“Sacred East: The Direction of Sunrise, Philosophy,& Aire Souls. It directs us towards the mental, the power of the winds within our lungs and our thoughts.
It speaks to us: “Listen to the whispers of the world & write them down!””
“Sacred South: The Direction of Greater Warmth, Passion ,& Fire Souls. It directs us towards the sensual, the power of the electricity within our veins and our hearts.
It speaks to us: “Listen to your heart & take action!””
“Sacred West: The Direction of Sunset, Emotions,& Water Souls. It directs us towards the emotional, the power of the rivers within our cell memories and our ability for compassion.
It speaks to us: “Listen to your loved ones & cry when you must!””

Welcome Spring! – 20 MAR 2012

Welcome Spring! Blessed Ostara! Happy Equinox! Dearest Soul-friends: May you be refreshed by the pure showers of Spring. Drop of tulip, Drop of daffodil, Drop of crocus. -Be blessings upon your brow, heart, hands & feet. May you be refreshed every morn and every night. May your dreams be whimsical and filled with magick. May you live sphereically, in all directions with a smile. May you never lose your childish enthusiasms and eat ice creme whenever the moment moves you. May you frolick, skip and jump! May you never hunger. May you never thirst. May you find love, and often. Stretch out those Wintery bones and celebrate! May your spirit soar and explore! From Spring’s dawn light, till Spring’s twilight. May your inner light shine as you walk barefoot through this season of flowers… Blessed be!

Once More – 7 FEB 2012

Once More Kiss me in a field of wild grasses, In a circle grove of oak trees, By a willow-lake filled with lotus blossoms.

Hold my hand in a field of wild flowers, In a circle thicket of mulberries. By the echo of a sacred well long forgotten.

Touch my skin in a field of grapevines, In a circle orchard of apple blossoms, By the honey scent of bee hives.

Kiss each freckle upon my skin, Hold my hair and breathe its aroma. Touch my nose with yours

Let us frolic through the glade of ecstasy. Let us dance around the hill-fires. Let us laugh and bask in the memory of faeries flying overhead.

Catch a star in your heart, Sipping the sweetness from my cupped hands. As I take you into mine, and we are together, Once more.
© Tuesday, 7 FEB 2012, Full Moon in Leo.

Oh Great Theodoros! – 13 FEB 2012

Oh great Theodoros!
Adrift in a boat in the gardens of philosophy,
Believer in culture.
In hand
A flask of wine, a book
Of verse.
Voyaging between the seas
Pushing through orchards of seaweed and yoga mats.
Dandelions and seagulls.
Doth ask but of life’s sweet nectar.
Sup the waves of nostalgia.
Drink from cupped hands of mermaids.
Inspire the sea of flowing volumes.
And may your pages be trodden
With inked fingertips, Dried paint in your hair.
Flecks of coal and graphite shavings.
Smile the Cheshire poem of your age.
Hum the song of bandits
And dream the lyrics of Peace.
Great men are measured by their talents.
Greater still are poets by their hearts.
Comrade,
“May your soul rage on, whirl on,
Tread faster here and everywhere.”
Grasp your Aquarian fortune,
And may your waters flow!
With honey-song of Muses in your ear,
In you swells the soul of a Wordsmith.
Great Gift of the Gods!

Be well my Brother. The stars are in your favour. Breathe in the rich aire, drink of the sweet waters and rejoice in the warming fires of friends & family. Blessed Birth both Day and Night. For now and always.
Namaste.

Leaves Upon My Tree of Life- 23 SEP 2011

This autumn, of crisp breezes
Of wind blown kisses through the aire.
I hope you know that I am thankful.
This is a time for appreciating & celebrating the unfolding of Life’s bounty.
Of equal day and night:
Where the dark is but a reason to gather a warm embrace in the cold.
and the light is but an open invitation for a cool kiss upon your weary brow.

Every year, I tend to celebrate this my most favourite holiday & holinight.
Not just for the apple harvest or the food. Oh, the mouth watering venison, the berries…The pie..
But for also cherishing the connections. The facets of our lives, the sometimes neglected trees in the grove..
So I am taking this time to inform you..

You all have given me breath. You have given me hope. You are leaves upon my branches,
each beautiful, changing as the season goes.
Each one a story, allowing me to grow upwards and higher still to find but more leaves sprouting.
Yet still connected to the source.
That spark of life, that bit of love and joy and embrace.
That which I am unconditionally drawn.
For who would I be if you were not there to allow me to photosynthesize?
You gave me breathe, you gave be life.
You are my soul-parts. My lovers and my dreamers.
My family and so much more than my friends.
I am thankful for you, making a ring of bark on my years: My Tree of Life.

Be blessed.
May the aires always fill you with breath.
May the fires in your hearts continue to burn true.
May the waters quench your thirst for Life.
May the earth always offer you a haven.
May your Spirit soar!
In Peace, Light & Love.
Blessed Be.

Lugh’s Lammas – 31 JUL 2011

Gather ye breads, vegetables and fruits!
Harvest time has come filling our noses with delight.
Gather ye free lovers of music, art and ale!
Dancing time has come washing our tongues with delight.
Gather ye sultry hunger, touches and chants!
Hedonistic debauchery has come to grasp our bodies in delight.
Gather ye friends, lovers and spirits!
Celebration has come to our Souls…

Take stock in what you have,
and share in what is ours.
Take stock in what we have,
and share in what is yours.

Smile at the sun, and pound at the dough.
Make your Wicker man alight,
and see where the evening shall go.

Fingertips graze stubble, fern and frond.
As we walk the fields hand in hand.

Sweet delicious bread!
As I kiss lips dripping with honey…
~”Lugh’s Lammas” (c) 31 JUL 2011

Soul-stice- 21 JUN 2011

Summer is a time for frolicking.
Running through the glade.
And rolling in the flowers.
Laughing, lounging, reading& bathing in grottos.
Drinking from sacred springs&
Showering under waterfalls.
Drinking tea by the light of a campfire.
Eating hedonistically from the dark fertile earth.Summer is a time for the Soul to shine.
Flying high through the trees,
Up mountains & hills.
Dancing in Fae groves,
And paying homage to the ancient stone guardians.
The elemental spirit is a fire of passion& whimsy.
Reclaim yourself! Your Midsummer dreams!
Rejoice in the moment! This Day of longest Light.
With sun salutations, smiles& grins…
Rejuvenate and be Happy!Blessed Solstice, Blessed Summer, Blessed Be!

Loveably, Lupercalia- 12 FEB 2011

Have you heard the moon-lit howl?
The ancient caress of Cupid’s wings all aflutter?
The She-wolf, calling you to her Cave?
Have you forgotten, the ways of our ancestors?
Before kisses were made of chocolate,
And words already spoken were given in a mass-produced card?
The times of magick have returned: So howl the song of Olde.

Dance around the hearth fire bright. Lock your eyes and take none else in your Sight. Call out your Lover, gently but firm. Today marks a three day Love burn. Let the pyres flame long into the night, where all can hear your love making plight. This ancient festival still does live on, you see. In the stories, the myths, the diaries that be. This is your time to recapture the spark, the one you’ve had for Life, Lust, and Love- what a lark! The basest of urges cannot be undone, no amount of praying could cast away and be gone. The Wolf’s Month begins just now, ready the pillows, the perfumes and the sheets, take to your bed more than just roses and sweets. Howl at the Moon, She- Luna will be ripe with smiles. Upon the acts of you smitten Love animals. Do not hide, oh! The shame that should not be there. Valentine’s Day should be a day naked and bare. A day of true poetry in the making, straight from the source. No matter as long as both partners are eager of course! Giggles and frivolity, laughter or pain. To be single or not: Love is just a game. So be happy at that, this fleeting festival of olde. Take a chance, be brave and lusty. Your name, pick it will he? In the Valentine Lottery, Faunus and Pan have more than just a Cupid’s plan. Be quick, make your plight. Februa is here, she will hear you in flight. Love moves on lofty wings throughout the skies. Arrows tipped in sweet poison, that does not follow any rules or rhymes. Will surely pierce more than one heart on this day. Will you meet your one true love? Who is to say? Who is to say?

All that can be gained, and all that can be lost. Is as simple as the day is light and night is dark. Be true to your heart, be true to yourself. Make love in the knowledge that true Love does exist. In your Heart. In your Mind. In your Soul. Go in peace, and follow the path of Eros!
(c) 12 FEB 2011

Rememberings of a Dream Long Ago- 09 FEB 2011

Send me away on a boat of spices &herbs,
floating away with the perfume of incense.
A sailing pyre of lament and hope for the future.
The realms diverge and converge on the ocean waves.
Will you send me away?
Into the depths of the white light?
Into the warmest lands of glaciers and
coldest worlds of desert? I’m sailing
away into the other-realms, yearning
for so much more than this
everyday monotony..

Betham and Nugent filled my mind most of the time.
Shakespeare on others, on  the more drunken nights
But know that my words were always meant to be read
By the light of the moon and by the scent of the sea.
Sailing away, I salute the ancients, the old and young.
My fire burns always, the Light of the Way.
Follow the spark of Love-
Forever.

The waves rock me to and fro,
Given enough time I would recite
complete works, of artes past.
So, send me away
Away, on a bed of herbs & spices.
Let the incense pierce the veil, may the Light
that is my Life fill your eyes.
If you bury me upon the ocean waves, a mummified druid-
Dreamer and Shaman, healer of the new.
Visionary. Optimist. Will you listen to the words?
The drum beat of the dirges?
Will you feel the ebb and flow,
If I wear my shroud and you your tuxedo?

I’ve had enough moments to know,
To know what all these Lives and times amount to.
In the end everything comes together in a beautiful mess of reality,
Our realities, into the mists of the Otherworlds,
Our worlds.

So send me into our world,
On a bed of herbs & spices,
Smooring myself with flowers of Light,
Flowers of Life,
Flowers of Love.
Sending out ripples of destiny on the sea of Fate.

If I die send me away, on a bed of herbs and spices:
On a pyre of Love poems.

Do you have coin for the boatman?
To part the Mists and send me Home.

(c) 09 FEB 2011 wednesday

Jack Frost, A Beginning of a Poem To Be- 17 DEC 2010

My hair is frosted with crystalline wonder,
my lips ruby as holly berries.
Eyes brighter than a star,
and a heart warmer with jolly laughter.
My mind awakens to the smell of snowflakes..
grasping the mistletoe, i paint in the light.
My day is just begun..

Samhain- 29 Octobre 2010

Something stirs in our loins, the drumbeat pounds, the gypsy dance.
Something calms in our thoughts, the heartbeat pounds, the inhibitions lost.
Something’s summoned in our souls, the musikbeat pounds, the energy’s pull.

Something this way comes, soaring through the air, it comes to us…
on this Halloween night.
Something bubbles in our memories, the ebb and flow, of natures wise stories.
Something hoots in our minds, the danger thuds, blood pumping the frightful binds.
Something howls in the night, the charmed wolfsong, glowing in the moonlight.

Something this way comes, flying through the ages, it comes to us…
on this Samhain night.

Can you feel the magick in the air? Can you sense it? Can you taste it?
Something old and ancient this way comes….to you? To Me…

Blessed be.

Happy Birthing- 25 SEP 2010

Happy birthing!
Dear friend, I hope this finds you well& happy.
Be sure to celebrate extra special today.
May the years show you promise, may your days be filled with bliss.
May you never forget your childish enthusiasms, no matter what age you become.
May you live spherically, and openly.
Honestly & truly.
May you love with all your heart& may love find a place for you in all that you do.
Dream always, both large..and small.
May you be happy in everything that you do, and know that my home is always here for you if you are ever in need.
My very best wishes, my dear, to you for a colourful fall birth-day& enchanting autumn birth-night, that will surely be filled to the brim with friends, family, love& laughter.
Grins& tidings.
Your friend always, Derek.

He IS -22 June 2010

He is a traveler.
a conquistador of the arts: of thought, of dance;
a soldier with flowers in his hands.
He is a man`s man: a man who can feel.
He is the hunter…and the gatherer.
…He can make you laugh until you cry, and cry until you laugh.
He is the two-spirit.
He is a friend, a lover, a companion. His eyes shine true& radiate poetry of expressed vigour& coloured with the winds.
He is.

We Are The Sketches- 1 May 2010

We are sketches. Beautiful sketches.
Pencil lines. Continuous, run-on sentences,
until we`ve hit hyperbole.
Paragraph mountains torn from anthologies of our life`s lives.
(Used as insolation for the cold- the homeless?)
But the ink still moves from our hearts to the paper!
Seeping. Sinking.
Page after page.
Mindless Word, mindless script.
Mindful of our sketches, Our
Pencil Lines.
…Chapter after chapter. The ink-
pulses: a poet`s heart bleeding through introduction.
Through chapter after endless chapter.
Straight to our epilogues- Our epitaphs.
Parallel paradoxes, living our own truths.
Truth is art, Art is Life: thus life is filled with painting our truths.
Sketching. Creating our lives. Making word not just what is seen,
But what is imagined. Life makes manifest the Artful being.
The artful poet. The redeeming. The pencil …lines.
Drawing conscious lines of a new Civilization.
An artful life.
A renaissance of human word: human experience.
Love, word, poem, wine, soul:
life`s music.
The new world-order.
We Poets, we dance in the streets!
Our minds, our words are OPEN.
Art is not dead!
Poetry is here.
Use your Voice. Write it.
Share your pencil lines.
Be your Revolution.
Be your Renaissance!
or it`ll happen without you……”

Wet Dreams

Lights reflect off the black asphalt.
Wet. Glazed with tears from the sky-
falling onto me.
My head spins with a hundred, no- a thousand, no- an infinity:
an affinity, of thoughts falling off of me into the gutter.
(Where all broken dreams fall.)

Autocars pass sending tidal reaffirmations:
“Embrace adversity! See it! Taste it! Let it hit!
Let it brush your skin! Oh- your skin!
Let it trail down
your face, blinding the limelight,
blinding the glamour, the illusion.”

Truth is all you see-
the dank truth.
It drenches you to your very core…

Shake! Shake off that poison-
that venomous disease. No more!
The disease of esteem:
how it rounds about like a mad man’s cab.
Accelerating down the one-way, the boulevard to your heart.

Cleansed you trudge on, jumping in puddles,
nostalgic moments flutter
like mermaids swimming from pool to pool.
(Laughing sweet melodies.)

Let him fall onto me,
like these many little kisses falling from heaven.
Let him wet me with HIS drizzly passion,
HIS pouring indiscretion, his bucketing truths,
and untruths.
His sopping curiosities,
his hopes-his tempest fears.
Let those irrepressible flights trail. Drip.
Coursing the surface, coursing lips,
lips yearning, thirsty for more.
Trickle, trails over your chin,
drinking from the storm of pleasure.
The storm from breaking inhibitions
(the ultimate aphrodisiac.)

Damp. Spent. Running from niche to niche.
Ducking into alleys where city lights
shadow over.
The music is underground. The music is here.
Cymbals clashing, heart song playing.
The thump, thump,
thump of a pulsing heart
plummeting
from an age old eave.
Our clothes skin tight, our hair flapping
in the wind. Passerby’s yell
from drunken autos, going nowhere.
Going home.
Do they go to a warm bed?
Do they go to a lover’s?
(Tsunami hangovers in the morning.)

Dry. The lavatory has more uses than just for casual encounter, casual
love. Dry love.
Tousled hair, waltzing up to a hero.
(All heroes have ruffled egos.)
Shaken, shaken to the core,
the cool drink passes
my gullet, from lips
succulent enough to devour
in one clandestine moment.
Where time stops. Time
speeds up,
who needs a time machine when I have a triple shot of vodka on the rocks?

Scruffy emotive emotions touch,
sing, off tune, in tandem.
Unkempt realities merging into a single dimension.
Worlds collide,
authenticity is questioned.
The veracious truths of
unknown places,
unknown encounters
reclaim their place.
Reclaim their power- only within arms reach.

If it is wanted badly enough.
Desired, chosen, removed
from a secret place within oneself,
one’s secrets of a beloved.
(Darlings move on the dance floor.)

Time is out. Do not pass “Go,”
do not collect two-hundred dollars.
Your carriage has pumpkined up, and is ready for its trade in.
All magick removed,
will he pick up the bitten apple?
Will he break through the brambles
to kiss his knight in shining armour?
Will little people jump him
in the alley as he runs for the rabbit hole?
Plunging into an unreal world filled with giant white whales and
Wonkish insanity?
The clock ticks, says the white rabbit, will you follow?
(Remember Love is Time’s keeper.)

(c) 9 April 2010

The HUMAN Connection: We All BLEED Love

He would love He,

She would love She.

A common link, a common hope-

-A common love.

Their eyes were pure

Their spirits yearning,

Yearning to be two wholes creating one.

He holds Him.

She holds Her.

The inescapable connection-

-A heart connection,

Beyond genitalia.

His contours, his muscle.

He loves: he is a soldier.

They kiss, they sweat.

Woe! Why be afraid to Feel?

The touch of true love.

Sense it! Be aware…

The ebb and flow of the ocean.

They are two-spirited,

They are enthralled in every fiber-

Every cell, every bit uninhibited.

At peace.

She sees Her.

He sees Him.

A penetrating gaze, a Vision-

-A deep connection.

Beyond knowing.

Her brown eyes, hers blue.

Mirrors of an expression, evidence of self.

His smiles reflects His laugh

She creates, she learns.

She loves: She is a mother.

Woe! Why be afraid to Look?

The sight of true love.

See them! Love them…

Twenty-two, twenty three,

Twenty three, twenty six.

Are they too young, too old?

To know what love is?

Love knows not the reason it exists,

It simply is.

He captivates Him.

She enchants Her.

A magick spell, a charm-

-A charmed connection,

Beyond vibration.

His voice, his resonance.

He loves: he sings.

Woe! Why be afraid to Listen?.

The song of true love.

Hear them! Perceive them…

Words are notes on the wind,

Their love-spell is stronger than any curse.

Filling the spirits of the oppressed.

Each heart has a cry.

She comes home to her wife,

“Honey I’m home” just doesn’t suffice.

He whispers in his ear,

“Can I take you? Can I save you?”

A declaration, an utterance-

-A stated connection.

Beyond Law.

His wit, His passion.

He loves: he is an activist.

Woe! Why be afraid to Speak?

The words of true love.

Speak up! Vocalize them…

She smiled into her soul,

Thinking, “Can I love you?”

When will equality be in the land of the free?

It is here, regardless if seen, regardless if heard.

It lives, They live, We live.

They love, You love, We love.

He is a rose, he is the sun.

She is the earth, and their love a quake.

Woe! Why be afraid of the Essence?

Feel it! See it! Hear it! Voice your love!

We are all human, we all bleed love.

Our rhythms pulse, to the beat of heart-song.

We all hum to the progression of love-

-The human connection.

(c) 18 February 2010

MY PEOPLE: A Speech- Version 2

My People….my PEOPLE:
Broken. Bruised. Forgotten- BLOODIED
Stained by the hurt of FEAR, a hurt of HATE;
WE hate them, THEY hate us.
My People: Our lands and children raped.
Our jungles cut, our earth medicines lost forever.
It is LIFE, or what Life once was.
My People: The Great Spirit came to ME
Brother Rain, Sister Sky-
Voices, VOICES of the Past, Singing: Songs of Reason.

Our People. What can I say about Our People?
Ign’rant, d’pressed, ay-lone.
Ruined by the price of greed.
Our People- Necks red wit’ sweat, farmin’ like pigs.
Drinkin’ til noon and again next day- Never did look so fine.
Momma hits dad, Pops beats mom & then finds me.
I was only five….
It is life, or what life once was.
Yahweh came to me,
The Creator, Father Idol.
Voice of the Present, sayin’: Words of Reason.

My People, My People.
Shunned, killed, disowned- UNLOVED.
Assaulted, thought QUEER….and we ARE…..
Rainbow’d cars, merely targets for broken souls.
My People: Smashed, vandalized.
Glass….so many crystalline knives of anger.
Where will I sleep?
No one knew: This. Was. My. HOME…
It is life, or what life once was.
My People: Glitter shimmers in a world so dark.
The PULSE of the Music speaks to me,
Dance, dance to the rhythm of LIFE.
Notes hitting vibrations of the Future- Vibrations of Reason.

Our People…..OUR PEOPLE!
Burned! Castrated! Murdered in the STREETS! Left for dead…
Society doesn’t want us- We are the FORGOTTEN!
Our People: THEY didn’t trust US? WE DIDNT TRUST THEM!
It is life, or what LIFE ONCE WAS……
Soothing touches came to Our People,
HEALING OUR SCARS, kissing our bruises
They didn’t care, they weren’t WHOLE.
Gestures of goodness last forever…
EMBRACES of Reason….

MY PEOPLE. MYYY PEOPLE….

Who are my people?
The Forgotten. The Abused.
The Scapegoated. The marked.
What is of My People?
This is the Riddle of fucking millennia.
There is no justification for history.
So many tears fallen, rippling the seas of humanity.
My People’s bones lay the foundations to your Condos.

Your People are not My People.
Your People would desecrate our lands,

Pollute our minds, cut our hair?
Scorn my language, challenge my lisp?
Scoff my colour, taunt our families?

Your People would “teach” us the real true way,
Electroshock our bodies into normalcy?
Your people do not Sing,
Vibrate and EMBRACE Reason.
Your People would have us forget My People’s memories,
Our pasts, My People’s culture?
Our heritages, My People’s rights,
Our destinies? Our lives?
Your People will not sing any rhythms of reason.
Not until the web is seen, felt, encircled and respected.

My People: Where are the Avengers?
The Heroes and Heroines of antiquity?
The Writer of Wrongs? Why do they hide?
The mystification….
So many lives fallen, Our People redden the sands of humanity.
The pulse of the earth beats fast for us.
Awaken from your slumbers!
Cast out the dust! Renaissance approaches…
Cast out the inhumane. The bigots shouting amongst Our People.
Use your weapons well. Pens, VOICES, SPEAK for Reason!
Dance in the streets, SMILE at your foes.
Sunshine falls upon shoulders no longer barring the weight of suppression.

It is Life, or what Life once was.
My People are the facets….the “diamonds in the rough.”
Casting rainbows of humanity, in all their multi-cultured vigour.
We are the rarest of flowers…
….with the most UNIQUE perfume.
My People are the NEW Souls….the OLD Souls…
The Brightest Light of the Sun,
The Softest Light of the Moon.
My People are eternal, We are forever.
The Past, present and FUTURE.

Who are YOUR People?

(c) 4 February 2010

Cupid’s Sonata (c) 15 Sept. 2009

Great symphony of the mind! What shall thee sing?
Whistle, whistle. Tongue in cheek.
Furthering the discourse of love past
Brought to the present.
Simple melodies floating upon the wind of our connected dreams.
Through time and through chance- be brought together
In union upon the torturous slopes of mortal love.
But oh! Look, what a lark!
There shant become a trial of love,
For all loves never run smooth and thus
In all times and in all ages, since love past,
Hast loves be in turns of simplest hazard.
And woe!
Woe is the lover who allows the populous decide.
Decide what is true and untrue.
Of what is expressed and what is shown.
The difference between the seen and unseen. Only lovers know.
Time is but a ripple and lovers in a sinking raft,
But ore on they must
To reach the harbour- together,
humming a cupid’s song.

Connect the Dots (c) 9 Sept. 2009

We are all made of dust,
Tiny particles of stars with great potential.

Look out into the vastness,
The eerie beauty of it all.
See all those stars?

Those are hopes and wishes, much like yours.
Each is distinct, every one with their own personality,

Is it any wonder they are so bright,
You must think?

Each shining ray becoming apart of
Something larger,
Something grander,
Something connected.

Connect the dots.
Connect the hearts.
Connect the lives.

Linked together in the dark,
In the cold,
In the emptiness.

Imaginary lines through space, created with a simple finger.
We are creators of our own imaginations,
We are imaginers of our own creations.

Within the grand collective,
We can feel it.
The Connection, the dust.
It is unseen, but with a simple gesture:
A finger, a handshake-
-A smile.

We are connected.

So, connect.
Connect with your fellow luminaries.

Connect the dots.
Connect the hearts.
Connect the lives.

© 9 September 2009

CAFE

As it brews within these walls,

The smell perfumes the home.

The noise is of churning,

Can you wait for the foam?

Sweet delicacies from around the world,

What once was royale-

Only a pleasure for those up high,

Now is for the tongue of any- normale.

Natural origins from the equator,

A colour true to the earth’s ground,

Cultivated to rule the hours of the day,

The best discovery ever found.

Mixed together-

Sugar, sucre, Milk & crème.

Is it any wonder?

Of this luscious dream?

Some may want it,

Hot or cold.

But its warmed our hearts

Since the Ages Old.
©2008

HEART’S MEMORY

Beneath the waves, I wait.Drown in my own memories of regret.Time is still.To recount the tale—the fable,It was a chance occurrence of correspondence. Amongst the infinite net of information.Correspondence to correspondence,Our words danced in the wind.Our charms were cast and we fell.After a summer,A season of heat and passion,Our souls were ready.A single encounter, faces with hungry intentions.We were so young. Amongst the books,Books of nothing, yet written in words of emotions.Closed inside, heart to heart,We were so curious of each other,And I so nervous and full of energy.Surrounded by trees and crossing the river,We made our way along the path. The path that would lead to two cycles,Two cycles around the sun.Though we were young and in love, our eyes met with hunger.Green to blue, the spectrum of our souls were bared for each other to see,And my heart wide open.

REMINISCING STORMS

To all the hurricanes of the sea,Message to message,Word for word, we continued our struggle.Struggle with our lives.We were stormed, our fates blown apart.The wind blowing—so strong, so strong.Yet I hoped.I floated in the lake of my memory.A lake that would eventually become sea.Love turned to hate, and yet I remained, Full of verve. Coincidence, the sound of his name,Reminded me of his song—his charm. Time slows and time stirs so fast.All the wishes—wishes to best.Happy and in love, to be, and isAll I hope.Why can I not break the power of his charm?Want it gone, removed—to love again,To love another.But I do not want to love without,Without the memory of his face.My heart still goes back to him,At night,When all alone.My mind wonders,At what could have been,To what was close to perfect.Some day, I say,Some day, it will happen—together again.Again, somehow, someway.When we both are ready,Body and soul, heart and mind.To hope that,That he knows I remain,Always here—by soul beseeching. I wait with a heavy heart—–In the ocean created by our passion.The tides wash over me,As a prison, a prison of memories.Yet I am strong,Strong with the view of land in the distance.One day my voyager will come,And reach for my arm-hand in the pool of our passion.Walk again, will we?—Upon the beach of life?Free from the cold depths.Until we next meet, my nautilus.

OCEAN WAVES

Ocean waves crash,Against the dark and moist insides,Of my being.Every reverberation sounds a shock of memory,Of pain and love,Lost,Yet never complete with acknowledgement—–For what it was.Sea foam gushes in,In a residual of overflow, my body is a hurricane.A heart was wide open,With the hope of love true,But closed,As a tempest of time,Turned two years.Back and forth,The waves hitting the beach,Of everyday life.Within a secret outside,The bounds of “natural order.”Whether flower or bee,Pollen does not matter where it floats nor lands.Through dark clouds, rays of light hit the beach—–For only moments.The beach yearns for the crashing waves,Of something lost,Within the depths of the sea abyss.Do not fear,The tides creatures.Fear only the undercurrent of life’s regrets,For the hurricane has a legacy.A legacy of destruction. Within the human soul,There is a split between many.The truer truth of life’s voyage,Is finding at least one piece,Of common heart.I can hear the waves crash in the distance,Off my inner-self.An inner self, the depths of which are hard to recognize.One day the voyager will return,And the ocean be calm once more.The current will be as it was in the beginning,But only when ocean and voyager are ready,Ready to trudge ahead.But not before.

PRINCE OF TIDES

Moments crash against the shore.A hurricane of tears unleashes,Against the world’s inhibitors. Deep residual pain rises from the depths,Hoping to be resolved.The sea is so clearly,Full of emotion.Ripples,Ripples of shear energy course through,And hit the feet of the voyager.The waters crash against bare feet,Reminding him of its sweet embrace.Gulls sing in the near distance,Vibrating words unspoken—So many words.As he crashes against the more forceful of waves,The voyager is reminded of all the struggle,The struggle his being has had to go through.The voyager’s life has not been an easy one,So misunderstood.Only the one within the depths,Of the sea,Has turned away all fault.The one has loved nothing but unconditionally.Swims—the voyager,The time is finally right,Having many years passed.The salty waters wash over the voyager,A sea so entrenched with memory,And yet,A prison.At last! The voyager reaches the point,The point where his lover has been waiting.A hand-arm outstretches and breaks,The surface of regret,And they See.For a moment,Eyes of blue and green meet,And each is within the other.As the pools of emotions are settled, they walk.They walk—the Prince of Tides and his voyager, His nautilus. All the old is dead and they love anew,As soul parts,Until they are reborn—–To voyage, once more,once more for everything, for each other.
©2007

ANOTHER WORLD

Time goes by so fast,
I can barely hold on.
My grasp is slipping,
Your hand falls away,
And I fall.Into the abyss I go,
Another world to explore.
I travel fast, through the air,
Down to the sea that is under me.

I break through,
The line that separates water from air.
I submerge below the level,
My hair and clothes suspended in what seems mid-air.
There is barely any gravity,
And I know I shouldn’t breathe,
But I do.

The moonlight, breaks the surface down to me,
My eyes open to a world anew.
Creatures suspend around me,
All glowing silver in the light.

They begin to swirl around me,
Gaining speed.
I have one moment of fear, before…
Before, I see I’m beginning to illuminate,
Not from the moon,
But from within myself.

A light unknown,
Begins to grow.
And the next thing I know,
Im floating up.
Up to the surface,
Then up higher.
Back up to you.

The light grows even more,
You can see it from afar.
You see a light,
Not knowing what it is.
Then suddenly it comes pass the cliff edge.
You know not to fear it,
You know it means no harm,
Only love.

It comes close to you,
Takes you into itself,
And we go both to another world.

©2006

THE THOUGHT OF YOU

Here I am again,
All alone, all to myself.
I want to break free,
Away from this prison.
I am entrapped inside,
They get some sadistic pleasure out of my torture.
I squirm and they laugh,
I cry and they applaud.
They see me,
But not the pain inside.
Waiting, just waiting,
To fly away,
Away to another world.
You did this,
You swept me away.
Gave me the courage to not listen to their words.
Whenever they spoke,
I thought of you,
And smiled.
You made everything so much better,
Just the mere thought of you was enough.
That’s all that I required to be lifted,
Up and away..
From this prison of mine,
What others would call home-sweet-home.
But how to the contrary,
It is nothing but a house of lies.
No one is able to be themselves when within these walls,
Only when the spark has touched the heart of the person,
Who dwells inside.
Will they find peace.
And you have given me your spark.
The thought of you sends shivers of pleasure,
And recollections of times past.
And another smile comes to my face.
The mere thought of you.

©2006-2007

FALLING ANGEL

The sound of your voice,
reverberates off of the walls in my mind.
So harmonious, so bold.
Your radiance can be seen from afar,
I miss your presence.
Your sweet humour, always brings tears to my eyes.
Your ebony hair,
and masculinity are your symbols,
the things that make you, you.
I wish you knew,
eres el mejor importa.
I sit here, listening to your song,
remembering times past, and conceiving of things to come.
I can wait if you can, and will if you do.
See-
-patience is one of my symbols.
Only days now, me coming of age.
Opportunities becoming ever more present.
The time has come for me to fly,
let me hold your hand.
Angel to daemon, my guardian you are.
My wings of pearl are becoming ever more dark as night-
One singed yet I do not mind.
It seems that I am falling- a falling angel.
For a devil, of sorts, merely misunderstood.
Yet, I do not care of his doings,
for he has taken my heart,
my soul, with him.
On evenings past, feathers have fallen,
some even now jet.
But you I trust,
even should we go to Stix.
Falling so fast now,
one wing luminously obsidian the other dazzling magnolia.
Together we are entwined, in the dark.
Passionate as ever, for I am a Falling Angel.

©2007

DAYDREAM

Night, a fire and candles lit. Uncertainty plays at our minds. I walk in, you are angel-esc on your chez. A through, of white barely covering your manly hood. Beckoning me to come further. The moonlight pouring into the flat,white washing the floors, walls, our bodies. A gentle wind blows through, disturbing the thin fabrique covering what little it was. You pay no attention, your eyes still affixed to mine, sensually and dazzling giving me permission to look. I move closer, my gossamer shirt mystically beginning to unbutton. You stand before me, you in all your glory. You unbutton the last of them, and eloquently push the shift off of my shoulders. All the while our eyes are rapt upon each other, mine gleaming green yours glint of blue. I push aside an ebony hair from your face, my hands now on your jaw line, thumbs caressing your cheeks. An evening of erotic and sensual passion ensues. Our bodies move in unison, the hotness of the fire burning around us, within us. I take you in my world, and I into yours. Angels of light and shadow, now both made equal. Our bodies beckon, every cell reaching perfect bliss. Until the moon begins to decline behind the horizon, and the sun welcoming in a new day.The candles all of wax, and the fire of embers. We are entwined, bodies still warm and glistening with perspiration. You take me close, for one final osculation before we slumber side by side, ‘‘til the next following night.

©2007

NIGHT OF CIRCUMSTANCE

In the dark,
I call out your name.
I don’t hear your reply,
I cant find you in the mist.
I fall,
My pants tear open as my heart does the same.
I continue,
Onward into the night.
Through a wood thick,
with razour-sharp branches and thorns.
One glances me across my face,
Ripping at my flesh of my cheek.
I call again, nothing.
A terror in the blackness,
Driven on breaking one’s soul,
One’s spirit.
She wails her terrible scream,
Sending me back and down.
I cannot see,
Cannot hear.
I get up,
The banshee gone,
Her deed for now done.
I spread out my hands,
Extending my fingers.
And arms go out,
And I call again.
Nothing.
I step onto something,
Unintentionally.
It breaks and I pain in my chest.
I reach down, pick it up,
And once I make out what it is,
Feeling its hard course surface.
It is a box,
It feels so heavy,
I find myself hard pressed to keep it in my hands.
I put it on a nearby stump,
And contemplate on opening it.
I can suddenly feel the wind upon my skin,
Where tares in my clothes have left blood dried.
And the moon upon my face.
I decide:
Open it!
With curiosity and fright,
I open the vessel.
I still cannot see,
But I can barely hear a snap of a stick in back of me.
I call out your name again,
And this time a whisper.
My sight comes back, and my wounds seem to heal.
And I understand now,
It was I who opened you to my heart,
And now I must be the one to further it,
Or to close the lid.

©2006-2007

 

3 thoughts on “Poetry

    1. You are very very welcome! And so are you my dear! Your organization truly is a beautiful thing! I see my spirit in you, and your spirit in mine. Namaste. *Hugs*

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