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God Save the Spring

The mountain sparrow
sings to the moon
the rock pica sings to spring
A thousand things awaken
with the cycle of the seasons

The mountain sparrow
small and gleeful
like spring itself
flitters with energy
from branch to branch to seed

Singing to the moon
cycles time itself
a communion with the sojourn
a communion with the self
bringing home solstice solace of the soul

The rock pica sings to the spring
echoing off the rocks
barking that marks
even the unseen accompanies
the wilderness in it's solitude

A thousand things awaken
from hibernation, from death
the flame of life accustomed to this hardship,
unfolds it wings from slumber
to soar above the barren to the cities in the sky

The cycle of the seasons, the four doors to eternity
through one, the dormant awakens
through two, the juvenile play
through three, wisdom takes and sows
through four, time itself forgets

The mountain sparrow
like spring itself
brings home solstice solace of the soul.
The flame of life accustomed to hardship
with wisdom takes and sows
until one steps through the door where time itself forgets

Cradle to Cradle

Time forgets,
the seeding rots,
the water stagnates,
and the frog
hibernates

In the seasons passing
all those lives
that built the cities
glowing in the sky
at sunset time,
time forgets.

The seeding rots
when wisdom is no longer guided
but returned to the earth
to feed again the shade
that protects the wise

The water stagnates
from a creating role
to a supporting one
in the pond
with frogs and fish and lilies

The frog hibernates
the water freezes
the sap returns to root
and the cities in the sky
lift a little higher than before

Time forgets
those that lifted the cradle
to protect the wise,
from a creating role
to one of supporting,
and the cities in the sky
lift a little higher than before

PUBLISHMENTS

SteepleJack Beer

by yours truly!

been wondering what else I've written

well here it is

Soylent Green

Whether it tis nobler to drink ale
or ply the crook and brook to fish
the bubbles are the same that arise
if you keep in mind, one is God's land
and the other but human nature
both stir steady relaxation

release in work, relaxation
to tie the fly, ply, and chill ale
while wading in or from bank, fish
the eddies of flowing that arise
from the cycling eternity of land
that is Eden when smog lifts off nature

when foggy or snowing or of rainy nature
maybe it is too hot for any relaxation
seek the shade brew some ale
buckle down, tend house, smoke fish
shine the light so you may arise
to meet demands of cynical land

to meet the demands of a cynical land
that would hide the fish and beer in nature
that would hide the steady pace in relaxation
that would addict to work and ale
that would poison the byways of fish
that would put guns in young hands, arise

like fertilizer that bring tomatoes to arise
oil can both be a boon and vice to a land
it brings the dollars and ease greasing nature
but brings inequality to deserved relaxation
instead of volunteering your drinking that ale
instead of inventing your out for a fish

we used to fertilize with fish
and something would stay with the land,
when oil runs dry so do farms in nature
and the malt shrivels in relaxation
and then we have no more tomato ale
with hot tamale sauce and got to fish

If fish could feed millions in Jesus' land
we're going to need it as we reinvest in nature
with billions more, arise, brew a ale. Relaxation

Obama in the yold

Pisces in the Milky Way
swims upstream to breed
10,000 miles he's traveled, astream,
to arrive again from where he left
to embody and release
and fertilize the valley
with his honesty, integrity, and thick skin
in the cycle of things

His brain, his philosophy
His heart, his economy
His gills, by the grace of God
gives life to hope
that is fish

all of these in the cycles of things
give rise to new life
like the body of Christ
nourishes and feeds the soul
that is wheat, tree, minnow
meadow and fold
hearth and hold

a check on power that would corrupt
the cycle of things brings
moderation to an entropic woald

TradeWars2000

My purple crayon is my intelligence
the hand that guides, my wisdom, and
In my brainpan lies the world
unfurled & unrestrained by boxes of philosophy
it lies beyond the fictions of man
unto it's own rules
as a constellation of synapses
unfolding king cepheus

Sight, touch, hearing, knowing
these be but a smell of flower
that grows under a rock overhang of time
which, the rock, uncaring loves neither you nor me
until that day Jesus comes to bless it
yet the flower will grow all the same in indifference
having sprung from the same well
it's role entwined with the universe
refuting destiny by imparting free will
to truth itself
in that
it asserts one aspect of all knowledge
in the same note and key
to play along in melody of the universe
for the senses are not greedy
they just want to keep it real
like the best rapper out there

what is this thing remembering the unlearned
but trying to smell a flower that has long since
gone to seed on a mountain top 33 years gone by
there is no tapping the nOosphere
in an electric universe...
only waves and currents
circuits and maybe dynamos
that pie the sky with the likes of Leo and Cassiopeia

so try not to turn lead into gold
but observe the universe
and transmute ignorance into fine clothes
therein lies the Diamond Mind

For the space dock has been blown up by a quantum torpedo

Me and My Truck

The manifold of sustainability
lingers on hopes and dreams,
yearnings.. steaming beans,
that only widespread change can meet
The gov'ment, the voice of change
the guiding hand
the prince of lanes
whom directs traffic down avenues

Me and my truck is all I have
I can screw in a lightbulb
but where is the love
to make me stronger
to fly like a dove
to fly through the canyon
with a gallon of bioamplification

we can eat our disease
or we can make it clean
full of life in balance
teaming with frogs
and bugs that pollinate making honey
and wildflowers that harvest the sight
as wolves bite out the sick and overpopulated
Let us be wolves and bite out the waste and overconsumption
before the economy of ecology collapses beneath our feet

Like Oil and Water

Drilling rigs are boring
through the iris of the earth
one finds the salt of the gods
imitating water
but poison to the yeast

When descending into the Iris of the Earth
relative baselines become basin and source
while one weathers into the other unending
the valley is to the mountain
as the root is to the peak
and the crust to the rift
where all mountains begin
from compression produced therein

From the Salt of the Gods
Ra's Chariot becomes commonplace
to dangle on a thread
between love and hate
in our roadrage
and mercenary economy
of corporate lobbying

In imitating water
heaven's abode is synthesized
giving life to the tree of economy
but so large it grows
kills the ground growth
and threatens houses
in senescence
from 10,000 winds
caught in it's leaves

The poison to the yeast
is as peak to root
in our roadrage
in our mercenary economy
but so large it grows
into 10,000 winds
it is as poison to the yeast