Tuesday, February 24, 2015


We win
But we only really win with each other
All who survive get the prize
For this isn't a game that's sharply defined
This is the World, this is us, this Life
and no man/woman is an island

This is counter-intuitive, but real as real gets
We only win with and through each other
For we aren't playing to survive
We are fighting to survive and for others, too
People like us, people like you and me, to survive and thrive
So don't give in to the voices
It may be they're spirits and/or avatars of the Gods, even
Or the voices of friends or family or people we've shared with.
Our place is to Live, Laugh, Learn, and Love
I think voices are but intuition, depending...

Depending on our imagination to be real...
Which is our greatest strength as well
                                 as weakness
So don't give up fighting alongside,
All who survive get the prize, All who survive Win
And all who win thrive
                      My advice, don't starve.

 You are a winner in your own way,
 This world is your world you were born into.
 There's place for you, too
 There's place for me as well
 And if we Will Learn Resiliency?
 Then they will GIVE US success!

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

A Companion of Time

Mystery hides in her eyelashes
She smiles and proclaims joy
Her laugh sweet, Her rebuke sobering
And her phone call an unsung miracle

Won't her love ever come croon
Won't her spirit ever soar with mine
If but coffee, or tea, or beer were shared
But she counts to 1 with nervousness
And two is a swear-word in polite company
Three adds up her sins every night before bathing
For the world is going to shit, so why join in.

Secretly in some closet off-world in galactic space
She can rejoice and revel in creation
Here, not so much
Here is: puppy dogs and craft stuff,
Convivial conversation and batted eyes.
With a camouflage streak as wide as the moon,
And a knife to take your ring finger.
Don't smile her way unless she's smiling, huhh.
That's always been women, though, no?
Keep you at arms length till they can crush you unnoticed.
Dip their toes for hours then strip and jump in.
I've seen them do it time and again.
I've seen them do it and like it.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Today Brings By Friends

The dark wanes like moon high,
Inviting as it is with mist and trees
And echoing through the gloom
Is a darker owl chewing on the night.

It is an early morning
I make the tea, I spill it some
And wipe it up with my sleeve
Perhaps as sun rises it will wipe away the night
And replace it with a deeper gloom
One we can see less by,
As I take a sip from cup
It is happening even now.

And when I'll refill my cup
I'll encounter the 62 ounce teapot
And it'll say to my, you can't see what I hold
Like everday, in my life
But I'll pour it out in response
And get something out of it with a bit of work
Or with a bit of Love
And with a bit layed down

I'll have something to savor in memory
As I drink from Life years from now.
And go through my junk,
I'll probably find a silver lamp,
A homey cup that I dipped once into the streams of time,
And a birthday card from someone loving telling me about myself.

Life is what you make it
And if I could live for ever, I would never finish
Writing and Painting
And after I got good at those
Couldn't one do anything?  Live anywhere?  Date anyone?
Scribe and Illustrate any future into the dreams of others?
I would be there helping imagine.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

How You Knew Control of Constant Change

Do you use the word, pure as an adjective, or a noun?
Is pure organic food a redundancy to you?
Does sacred merely mean simply uncomplicated?
And can our legal by-laws and directives be Holy?

For Moses, and maybe for you.
For the real world all words are sacred
And difficult to adulterate
But we do it anyway for the sake of efficiency, perhaps;
Or the slake of greed and profits in some self-less business method.

A thing is what the thing is most days anymore
And the spirit of the thing does not crush and chew
To be born anew, as orange, broccoli, or guacamole Tree.
I've become undigestible by the Gods that rule heaven
Either through protractor or by staff and rod.

The safe harbor you seek from the fate of others is control
But control of situation will likely as not still hold suprises
For context of body, mind, and soul is ill-defined beyond resiliency
You will take your blows.  And be changed from it.

Resiliency perfected is a Bruce Lee, is a Lao Tzu, or an Einstein.
Resiliency is a boy scout whom comes prepared.
And control?  But an illusion, for often your own mind
Is your greatest strength or worst enemy
When surviving or even writing poem.
And so that control is an adjective instead of noun.
And what you have control over is yourself.

Say you were Lost, do you control the weather?
Do you control the sacredness of water?
Do you make the sun rise and the sun set?
All these happen because nothing controls them.
And so you'd need to control nothing, to control them
Which isn't going to happen anytime soon.

Me?  I'm poor, I wear second-hand clothes,
I have no servants and a run-down truck.
My cats are my friends, and women think me twelve.
And it's a story I only hear echoed in but one other person.
The people I meet think my totem is a mouse.
The God I greet just wants me to live day-by-day.
And the games in my life are richer than I could ever play.

How could I play your games?
I would become the totem, I would be the day
And I would be twelve, down on my luck, and ill-prepared
To do everything myself to play your game.

Monday, February 9, 2015

I Dreamed of Beaches

This world isn't fast enough for me, Per se: I quit smoking
And then? nothing new...I get bored, I get lonely
In what time exist my long dead friends and acquaintances
That come waving in memory or pass by fleetingly glimpsed
In the face of another, or by my own behavior reflected
What world exists in penthouse suite of freedom towers
And what hell is bequeathed beneath the bridge of golden gates

Seemingly the world is connected to history, our history
And to every other history-like artifact from worlds past
The dead, they say can travel there and replay
The living dream the future here in present stay
And only our pets live in the now of small worlds
In a story of cloudy atlases and obfuscated prophecy

But what I meant to say if you'll forgive me,
We are all connected with Geography,
Or DNA, or Law, or Market, or Friends, or Era
Through our sadness and our joys
Through time spent together
Through tasting of a lemon sorbet
Or the smell of a red red rose
Or reflection of self-same metaphor
Even the very being of us, came from the same star.
Whom exploded years ago in Age past recollection.

And in that Geography of Time
Some wallow in self-pity
While others each night tell themselves
           "tomorrow will be a great day"
Me? I think this, "but tomorrow I'll be someplace else"
I'll have the memory, though, I'll wonder and wander
and escape both bad and good lives I could have lived.

For life isn't as continuous for me as it is for you
By trick of the eye, the fat slim or the store reopens
The devil is in us, all along... and friends play games.
I know now why I can't be content, read it in a book.
I also know why you have no time to read this,
Because you don't believe it's in your best interest.
Who cares, right?

Who cares if there's geography to time, a logic in rhyme,
A connection in metaphor, or discovery in allegory
Well, Because it's you, and it's only ever been you
That had the chance to make things right,
As I'm perfectly wrinkled and don't really play games, anymore.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Word of Jupiter

Word is
Is a game

The rising wanderer is a game
And unless that's how you're paid
The hype doesn't matter
The spin, the orbit
The light it shines is not it's own

The light you shine is yours
Your witness, your deeds, your thoughts
And that's what turns the world through love

But light is from heaven
All crowning glory And food of greener people

Because the reality is
Drama is hype, spin, magnetized life or electric hype
The life you want to live is your own
The people you want are your friends and family
And the God you want to worship isn't Chronus

For Nature accomplishes everything, while it does nothing.
Conundrum?  Maybe that's your attitude greeting.
Discard and be at peace; feel the edges of your breath

Your pounding pulse is the pulse of life
Connected to everything and their ways that too pulse with the breath of life.
But the icon, the totem, is a game and an exit towards hell.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Where I Live

It rained last night
Rained from a height unseen and unfathomed but in dream
And today the sky hugs the trees
The clouds play with the birds perch

And the chickadee and flicker and turkey call out
Or the fir and pine and hemlock watch quietly
While the mountains and river and road stand sentinel
Before the spring and summer and fall aggrandize time
Below the battle for love and neverending story and part II narrate lives
Behind the rational and orderly and peaceful struggles
Upon our feelings and thoughts and wise mind making us.

I am what I make
Or I am what I love
Or I am what I do
Or I am what I think
Or I am what I wish
Or I am what I eat
Or I am what I fight
Or I am where I live

And to really live a great life takes inspiration
Which is but to find or create: meaning and purpose
For yourself... for others...
           so I share... and I'll keep on sharing
With myself or you in mind, too!
For others have shared with me as well
Their faith, their hope, and their love
That extends my hand to you.

Monday, February 2, 2015

Confusion in a Room With a View

A last piece
There is only the last piece
And it is not there on the table
Or it's under the table
Or it is missing
Or someone took it...
Or it needs to be cut out of the box
But they won't give me scissors
They won't give me a pencil to draw it
And I'm cold and the coffee is shit
I'm taking up the table, the whole table
And someone probably needs to use it
Why, where is that last piece
God is telling me something about myself
It's not here in the carpet
Is it in the box, under a table leg?
Did it roll away?  All done except for that last piece.
Where is it?  Hmmm.
If maybe I just reach over here it will appear
And pretending to place it in, there.
All Done
Man I dislike puzzles,
There's always a piece missing around here.
And probably on purpose.

When can I go for a walk.
I want some real coffee
Think I'll watch the cars out the window.
And listen to their vibes, the red ones
The blue ones, the yellow bus goes round and round.
I wonder if the piece is under the radiator.
Why don't they make puzzles with all the pieces?
God's saying nobodies perfect.
There's the piece, under the radiator.
Damn, wrong puzzle, but it fits.
I'll make it fit.  Damnit it all.
Man I dislike puzzles
There's always a piece missing
And probably on purpose.

Maybe the puzzle broke.
Maybe the piece broke
And when it did created a vacuum space
Now everything is getting sucked in
Oh my God, that's why I'm here
I gotta find that piece and plug the hole!
The whole world is going to end!!
Shit, it's all over.
We're all dead...

This sucks.
Where is that piece?
I'm screwed, everyone is going to know it's my fault.
I gotta find that piece.
Dammit, every puzzle in this place probably has a piece missing.
What does it mean? Why's everyone dead? Who broke the piece?
Why doesn't anyone care?  It's all over, now.
Man if it weren't for the creamer and sugar,
This coffee wouldn't taste like anything.
I'm never getting off code red if I can't find that piece.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

One... Morning

The World
The Blessed World of Eternity
With blue pines and silent peace of a Sunday Morning
Still and calm after the persecution
With whole realms and reams of confusion
Latent and conflated into each other
Like big pool with reeds climbing into still air

Kissed by the winds remembrance, but it too at peace.

There is a place where the rocks talk and pines scrape
At the edge of your mind
Where infinite sight greets eye
And the biting snow lets you know your alive.
Some sit out and fish in it.
Some journey by it only to glimpse with eyes on road
It is real seeing to see the world around you
Right seeing to feel the uncloyed softness naked and juicing into life
Through rock and pine, sticks and snow, space and time, and squirrel.
Makes me smart back into existence
With the pretension gone that I do not live
While having fooled no one... maybe that's the trick.

If I could but keep still longer and let it fill me.

But I'm richer than I admit.  And so heaven heeds me not.
Says 'Oh look you, you got what you want.' and wanders away.
Leaves me wondering how many worlds today
are interleaved, and how many of them are real;
And which one will take me to core of galaxy's heart.

Ahh, but to travel innerspace is all that is left.