Mindseye Spying

A bird peeks from space
to gleam a pace of peace
and in its eye bespeaks
of galaxies in its wing
What yonder sight have ye visited
oh turbulent bird of heaven's grace
What scavengers of pride and joy
have you witnessed pandimensionally
in manifold travelling and sojourney

My soul speaks another joy,
one of the center.
My eyes spy another pride,
everything is nothing.

Will this ever feed anyone
oh great bird of distant shore
beyond myself?
Will I ever soar
beyond the center of nothing?

This great age of deluge
threatens with flood by endless raindrops
now falling since September.
There looks to be no end to the bits dropping
from heavens beginning onto whole worlds end
seemingly to push one way at first and then another.
There is little guidance to it, it would seem.

After Common Era, what ark will mate in harbors port?
One of quality to survive those stormy seas most likely.
And what glorious value will disembark:
when Gold doesn't buy passage,
when Guns can't secure seats,
when God won't supply fare.
A riddle is it not?!
And yet Noah erects it yet, even Now!

Sitting Momentarily Outside My Complex

I have a cool apartment I'm thankful for.
The running water, the refrigerator
the stove, the dry bed.  It all seems mundane,
But in the simplicity of it
I can work and play at living
though sometimes I fail at both,
and sometimes quite horribly.
But through it all, the sun sometimes rises
to shine on peace, Making it all worth it to me,
a little peace I can sit with and think
"Man, is that just beautiful or what.
Thank God I'm alive and there are people to share it with."

In a Problem Free Life

A horse, my kingdom for a horse
Pretty small thing, considering
they sometimes make dogfood
and many poor men may have one.
And yet, in such organized times
and highly controlled environs
as we have in modern lives
such a small thing, as...(anything)
CAN MESS YOU UP
like your baby pooping in a diaper,
And inside a little part of you dies.
A little part of life is unrealized.
But that is life!  The mess, the slop.
The uneducated edges of mindless drops.
So like a boarder, we must carve
what we'd like. from nothing.
In time we might end with something right.
And what with these silicon machines
dictating our lactating stations
as well as every other function of lives,
the memo was lost in the trees leaves
and the other half of society
stares bug-eyed at our problem
wondering how-in-the-world horseshit
caused all this.
When, these blasted computers were supposed
to solve it.