Sunday, June 14, 2015

My Aloha From the Warmest Hug

My great Aunt passed away yesterday,
She still lives for weeks or more, now.
When I visit, she's out
But stirs quietly... knowingly... saying glad you come
For when do the dead ever really sleep?
When do the silent stop up ears?
They have eternity for that,
           and they know it!

I tried to thank her for being in my life
All I could do, were bring her my sort of flowers...
Said hello, and ran out to hug the family in tears.
I tried holding conversation,
             Could only say hi and goodbye.
It certainly isn't easy dying,
   but life isn't an easy matter either
   and so I stopped by rather-than get on road
   driving to greater grand canyon where it feels
   like I am every-time people start to depart on some long-goodbye

Long like the grand canyon and as unbridgeable for the current times.

The flowers, they free the space through sound
The visit, but an aloha
But she was glad, She knew like I knew when waking from coma
One can feel people when addressed in that state
And like any waiting room, say in hospital, one doesn't really want to leave
Not really, because most often... it's not to leave
But it is really nice to run into someone you know to pass the time
Or ease troubled mind

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Why Should I be the Bum to Tell You

Pop, don't think a lot!
It makes you dangerous, they say.

Dangerousss, to be educated this day
DANGer ossified
dangerUS the accomplished life
The one entrenched in warfare

But is it war to drive a car?
Is it fighting to stoke the stove?
Last I checked it was getting by...
For the fight is with time, I'm told,
With each us indebted billion-fold.

Once when our heart beat faster from our first kiss
Once when our heart soared from father's pride
Once we found our home in our favorite stick
And once for every pulse shared in any hug

Once when muscle pulled ball to outfield
Once when feet made class on time
Once when teacher smiled with pride
And once, when friends clapped... aside.

Once when deer, dead, had died
Once when beer, bred, had sighed
Once when prose had lied
And once, when fiction had excited.

And in the telling your lives are told, too.
Throw you son down a well, or do your job, cold tale.
Burn that synapse, let it languish and die
Let the light find it's own height.
Which isn't True!
We heart, and laugh, and live beyond four square walls
If the internet is no small testament to that.

Live effin' life, laugh, sing...
Even dance if you have to, because life is poor without wings.
And poorer still without any of these things.

And in stirrings of stillness, the world without does too.
Does live, does laugh, does sing, does dance, does wing
So bums may be happier than you, but with no one to rescue,
While they listen to the mutterings of judgemental people.

But they aren't judges, and neither are you
And just as indebted for the gift of time.
So why not get your money out of politics!
'Tis madness, people are so mad
To think time won't reclaim its losses.

A Place to Paint

Places! in this geography of time
Like news races! in place of mind
I languish thinking of places!
In both space and time
And think of cases! to paint the rhyme

But a place to paint!
And rebutt there's no place of mine...
But there's places!
People spend their life...

Perhaps that's the stasis!
I need to keep in line... with my paint!brush
With an open eye...

---------------------------

With all the fluid of yesterday
Flowing in the holes of paper, fine....
And all the morrows of yesterday lying
In paintbrush, or paint, or page of mine...

It seems such a small thing, then why?
Why agonize finding the prize
When worlds surmount expectation with or without
Frames of surmise or justified heights

Perhaps to surprise!
But also, to fly! with an artistry of mind...

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

If Free Birdies Perched on my Radio

Life was fine the last three
Can't seem to pray more apology
Than thanks to God in heaven for the rain,
Or fine cats, or silent television, or tricky coyotes,
Or sunshine in painting, or ugly goldfish, or clean floor
Or bright birdsong, or saving bucks, or running truck
The world is so green today while yesterday there was a faint rainbow
Just for me, and one before... in public vale of mountain and stream.

There was no me in you I found out, but similarity in tongue and coat.
There was no answer in who I learned, but the capricious found.
And there's thanks be to God for that, too, I suppose,
Where Turns go or don't, they erode the bank
For a river runs through Seldons psychopharmacology,
And all one is left for company when mythory is dispelled.
Even thanks might remain empty, and so I would not give Haldol to the dying
Because within the poppies one would at least need sunshine to make them grow.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Beyond the Box is Black Lava

My room is private,
May that mean Holy.
In comes person says let me do that
But I say, "but comeon, I can do that"
I'm American, we like that
Cleaning up after ourselves if we can
Unless they're vampires and demons we've killed
Sometimes that's too messy and too cruel to deal with.

Patriot Act pt. II transpired/expired today
Most provisions really haven't changed much.
Supposedly the Post is stopping photographing our letters
I wonder what all the snapshots look like in collage.
I wonder what all the texts look like printed on them
and mailed to wives, or business partners.
I always try so hard to print concise on them everytime.

My step-girlfriend is a spy and international Santorini vacationer
Where Atlantis sunk.
I think we're sunk.
In the 40's everyone thought we were sunk.
But it took 20 years for civil rights to unsink everything waterlogged
From the kool-aid they were drinking in Montana missle silos.

Was/is that to be my destiny... to hide in a hole forever dating women
That declare war on my balloon animals.
But at least MY kool-aid has some kick.
Because in plain water there is bacteria.
How do I know?  It's Science!

Friday, May 29, 2015

It's not about money I'm told
They're all about the neckties that strangle clear thinking.
#Lin

A Job Undone -excerpt from book Progress-vcv

Supplying the market with material
meters supply and demand so that economics becomes synonymous
with materialism and consumerism is bred

So does nature supply man
with houses like a beaver, made of sticks,
and roads like the deer and elk with webs of transportation

In matters spiritual
who can say what way is close to God
but close to God is the way
and maybe empty of expectation, can one receive presents of love and happiness

And thus all progress is made
industry manufacturing the material
nature growing the spiritual
with all thought, a great tree, bending to the winds of time

Industry grows like money
much like Nature, grows like God
and all the questions of the universe
reduce to, can we get by for presents of progress

Nature grows like God
in an infinity of ways
Nature can be savage and at the same time compassionate
half-way around the world to believers and non-believers, alike.

While the questions of the universe Dare the heart to dream,
and can open the present before us so it unfolds behind,
tragedy abounds.

Can we make it through?
everything says yes.
years upon years councils our path
eyes upon eyes scry our future
tongues upon tongues argue for us

for a presence of progress
to move forward
to grow up/down/sideways
in a societal mores
in a personal victory
Industry flows with materialism
in an infinity of ways
While the questions of the universe
dare the heart to dream
with eyes upon eyes scrying our future
in a personal victory of resilience.