promises to break.
We meet, we love, we do the thing
and when we return home it's still OK.
For it is understood
that is the way of things:
True love will not be bound
or put in bonds, even if called “marriage.”
Fisherman's Friend
It was a day of sun
along the great river
and many there were
tirelessly angling
along the rocky shores
Ever seen a human angler?
Easy: watch someone
contort his body
into various angles!
As I walked
I was accosted
by a tired angler
(who was also a retired
professor of angles)
He asked:
want to become
a fisherman's friend?
and extended his hand
but I'm wise
way beyond my eyes
and sometimes even my ears;
declined his subtle offer
and said to him -
“Ah, not so fast:
I won't let you
or anyone
suck me to nothing
but a lingering taste
of menthol and eucalyptus!”
Having survived
the deadly encounter,
I write this to you today:
beware those who stand
rod and reel in hand
on a river's shore
and offer to become
your guardian angler!
Gaia
Filling dreams without time,
love's eternal presence
out of a world gone mad
I watched you and learned
(I think you were pleased).
I followed you into a stream:
you bent down to touch the fish
with healing hands
and where your hands moved
the water sparkled, diamond-like
as in edenic days, so long gone;
from your breath spring burst forth
a magic moment in shades of green!
You beckoned tenderly to me:
eagerly, expectantly, I followed you
to the river's edge and together
we danced on swirling waters!
I thought to laugh then, with abandon:
in the joy of this sacred moment,
happy, unencumbered, forever young
tiptoeing on eddies, with only you
and the world I knew faded
it seemed forever
...but when I came closer
and saw your gentle, knowing face:
tears filled your eyes.
Homeless
A clear cut on a mountain side:
there are those who oppose
as there are those who agree:
protagonists in man’s number one game.
It’s all about fame and all about gain;
It’s all about blame and all about shame!
The cause would be better served
if we thought of those who lose their homes.
What about the precious life in the mountains,
birds, squirrels, insects, trees, plants, streams:
what happens when there are no trees?
No home for so-called wildlife,
and no roots to hold the soil?
If an apartment building was being torn down
to create work; to boost the economy,
what of the ones who called that their home?
Who’s possessions are destroyed?
Now they’re homeless: where’s the real gain?
Is that not the same as cutting down a forest?
Perhaps we shouldn’t stop the cutting of a forest
by blocking logging roads, or spiking logs,
nor by giving in to anger or rage,
but perhaps there is another way:
the way of peace, of love and compassion,
the way of empathy for all of life.
Thus can we show there’s a better way
to live.
Look Upon...
Is your heart troubled
by ancient thoughts, angry, confused, dark?
Is your heart cold
to the pain that surrounds you, discordant, disconnected,
as if not of your own heart?
Do you still look upon your world
as something other than yourself, separate?
Does your mind
desire to strike out in anger, in violence, in me-eaness
giving back hurt for hurt?
A long time ago, you learned that way
man's old way,
claiming, taking, fashioning, raping, never creating:
the way of endless death...
It seems right, when no other is known
but now, you're at the crossroads:
your love for me brought you here
and now, you must understand, choose:
accept -- or reject.
Look into my eyes
if your heart is troubled, unable to decide:
Look!
I show you the very first way
as the worlds were made from what seems not,
from love, and nothing else
for we had nothing else to work with then
and we still refuse to work with anything else:
Look into my eyes
and absorb my wisdom, my love, my life
join me in my cosmic dance: come
cry with me, laugh with me, die with me
and live
child made for joy!
The Majority Is Always Wrong
There is a madness in the land: the Voting Day...
and you've heard the standard lines used
to shame you into making a fool of yourself
along with the rest:
Exercise your right to vote - they say solemnly -
or lose your freedom of speech!
If you don't vote, you can't bitch - they say solemnly -
and this, my favorite solemn pronouncement:
It's because of people who don't vote
that idiots run the government!
Well, that's like saying:
it's because of people who don't drive
we have traffic jams, accidents and air pollution.
Yes, well, no wonder I think,
equally solemnly,
the majority is always wrong!
What does it mean to 'vote'?
To exercise one's freedom of choice?
It means to be there when needed.
It means to care.
It means I desire to make the world into a better place.
To not do this from fear, greed or competition,
but rather out of love and compassion -
Always a personal choice,
never an institutionalized process;
never an enforced concept.
I vote every day, do you?
Memories
Beautiful features
as sculptured from clay
are her legacy to me.
If one could still see
deep into her shining eyes
he would see a sunrise
over a virgin paradise!
He would see her run
impetuous and free-
a wild mare with flowing mane
chasing after the wind
along an endless shore.
Memories they may be,
but the beautiful eyes
sparkling with fire
reflected in water;
the sensual body
yearning to be loved
the gentle voice
laughing in the waves
are my reality.
Though she has become
but memories,
these remain strong, vibrant,
>
and will never vanish...
And neither will the love
she left imprinted
in the heart of eternity.
Dear Miss Liberty
(Thoughts du jour)
Mourn, mourn!
For the thousands
fleeing from their homes
when the bombs dropped
and death rained from torrid skies;
Mourn, mourn!
For those pulverized in the streets
mixing blood and sand,
steel and plastic –
fusing burning human flesh and glass
in depleted uranium.
~*~*~*~
Becoming one
with all that is: what a simple feat
that children, dogs, mice and blades of grass
can accomplish with ease
when war falls
from the oppressor's lips
and its fire spews from heaven –
did you not hear the monster pray
before he gave the word?
~*~*~*~
Mind dead, heart blind
the power-butchers kill the innocent
claiming it their divine right,
no, more: their sacred duty.
It's a matter of interpretation
(not to be confused
with questions of morality
or basic human decency):
~*~*~*~
Did not a Master once say
the kingdom of heaven
belongs to little children?
There you have it: kill them now
while they remain children
and give them back to God –
kills two birds with one smart bomb:
gets them out of the way
so they don't grow up to be terrorists
against the invader –
sorry, against the Chosen Ones.
~*~*~*~
If this seems an oxymoron –
what's your take on it?
Where were you
when prayers aimed at heaven
rained back down as cluster bombs?
The Unfolding Page 2
