Love & Chaos, Canto I

How can the sun shine so, and freeze us still?
In my body there’s an unearthly chill
& I think of a woman
and wonder why gargantuan love
must dwell alone…
Why the pink-bloomed tree is never touched once
by hands alike, & then I think
each cloud,
each tree,
each soul must go on alone,
drop leaves or rain or words as its destiny;
& there are children hungry, crying, abandoned somwhere,
& there is unique beauty stifled once again,
& there is ignorance & unfettered chaos reigning supreme
In the broken deserts of faith, and in the “powerful” minds.
And there are starry storms whose planets I would someday know,
When this darkness is conquered, & there is perfect love
I go to where she smiles & touches my cheek & I kiss her hand
& she makes her love and mine one.
But garish symphony aplomb yielding, carrying me aways
across desert streams & years & robust mountains
painting masterpieces of godlust colorsent telegraphs to the
supremely aware…
Where she of the mountains and glades ate trees & colored
the skies & bathed in hidden streams rippling with cosmiclight
and fountaining the waterways; for her, love was an earthly
consummation of fiery flesh, swarming in the alive cosmos
w/ passions Titanic, swollen by supernovae, saying
Staruvpoem! Speak! Here are your jewels, for Eternity to reap!
Of their alchemized sorrow say, she of the snowy cities
(lusting for love & pleasure & warm nights)
Drinking the wines of Old Bohemia, filling her veins
with their blood–enough for a cosmopolitan brood–
where not often enough the sun-dappled brooks run
Underneath a shining arm of the galaxy,
here, where she may smile…
Astral crossings of the dynastic wise,
when will my silvery soul meet your eyes?
In love & chaos evermore do we ride, or is there a reprieve
this time? Colloquial bane of disintegrated unions, who calls
love out, here is Nature’s lone call and fearsome night! Let us grant
Ourselves the soulful revolt that gains the needed epochal quarry!
Cosmic appendage of love-ghosts making us aware,
Teach us to disbelieve and re-learn in these Dark Ages again;
& we will share such stories as to make the planets sing!
The Music of the Spheres all we hear, at last to remake love.
I’ll press this flower in a book for her
I’ll pour some tea and set a place for her
And think well of her, even though she may
Not think the same. Pink blooms on the tree,
even in winter & all this lifeshine in the chill
i wear in the blue-canopied air,
chopped by a shrill engine.
I press this dying bloom in a favorite book for her, for the aeons,
For love entire filling up time; this bloom I enfold is talisman to
rooted beings & feathered ones, & lonely lusting, haunted ones
As well! I stroke the lovestrings, where in this time, this life, this hour,
I’m more enamored of existence than ever.

Thought of the Day

If you have mastered people’s perception of you… You are also a master of deception. Don’t seek love from others… Love will come ~ Stay tRuE

AT MY FUNERAL

I do not want to fade away. But I am already gone. I am the wind that whispers as you slumber. I am the moment that you remember that causes you to smile. I am a moment in time that you wish you can relive but you never can. The sun will still rise tomorrow and the moon will still take over that night, but I will not return. I am gone, but I still live within you. My heart may no longer beat, and my lungs may no longer breath, but I still live inside you. I may no longer write. My words may no longer be heard or read, but hopefully what I leave behind is still cherished, still adored. I never wanted much from life. I just wanted the chance to live free, the chance to be read, and the chance to breath. I hope I fulfilled my wishes. Goodbye and God bless.

Part of the Story

Making lists
at night to close
the eyes and mind

Street light seems
to blind as
the shades move

in the bind between
Dreams flows
the islands

I will never “see”
to unpack
the list sublime

& at last to
consume this desired,
fading, rapturous time

Within the Forest are the Trees

Everything that is not
gist could be
clutter or

the forest
with the distant
sleigh weaving

a message.
The saxophonist solos
running scales,

changes that reflect,
play on the melody.
It is all relevant.

A complete atmosphere
of meaning
fills the scene.

All supports
what all
you perceive.

Change

Things that bring
Dusk

Dust motes
Collections

Unmade thoughts
Harbingers of stasis

Rolling over tables
In compact stillness

Gather the unseen
Data that compose
Life

Moving
Self-edited incomplete
Just out of grasp.

THE EVOLUTION OF MAN

My pants once sagged below my waste catered by a belt and firearm. I once thought that life ended at twenty one. I once believed in easy money. I once believed that guerillas only win. But what I have come to realize like many other young people will once their thoughts become ripened. Once they realize what is bullshit, and once they are able to separate it from what really matters. They will realize that everything is bullshit. A piece of mind is something that cannot be brought. It cannot be borrowed, or stolen.

To be able to shed yourself. To come from behind the toys you once used to define you. The clothes you wore and the slang you used. Many people never grow. They never mature and stay trapped in an  unflattering place. We all have seen the old nigger on the corner. The forty year old, dressed like a eighteen year old, with mind of a sixteen year old. The word Nigga is either the introduction or conclusion to all his sentences, and profanities fill in the gaps. He is the man we all laugh at. The man that when we are young we vow to not become and we are older we pity. He is the man that will die and nobody will notice because another will take his place. Ignorance is his captive. The lack of wanting more and the enthusiasm to pursue it is his handicap. He is the fail of evolution.

To evolve is to grow. To evolve is to take the things you experience, the things you witness and apply them to your person. Maturity comes with righteous thinking. You must attack a situation, a problem, or just everyday life with intelligence. Aggression will get you nothing more than sore fist and an aching brow. This is no longer a country of stone throwing cave men or slug shooting cowboys. We have evolved. Only the animals still show their teeth and fight with their fist. We are an age of lawyers and lawsuits. We have armed ourselves with camcorders and camera phones to capture our assailants and subject them to capital punishment. The people still take the law into their hands at times. They still find themselves wrestling in the wild now and again. But when the dust settles and the smoke clears, they take that experience and they evolve from it.

Sugary Prague

O Sugary Prague draped in its gentle snowfall –
Hides love but calls it out as well,
As the church spires still reach for heaven,
Finding dark chill, still echoing her defenestrations
and Kafka-gloom, but Sugary Prague finally falls,
And pillows our hardy feet, searching for love
amongst the cold stones & hot hearts & graffiti.
O Sugary Prague uneaten eats loneliness,
its Cosmic Clock ticking out civilization in the Square, where
sugary women split the darkness with bright green eyes
& find feasts & friends in the medieval town far freer than
the “world beacon” is; & where contented love looms
in this beauty’s future, her labors not lost,
her soul in sugar tossed.