Were visible.
The other half, invisible.
I feel them surround me
Protection, Raphael, Gabriel, Insight
And me, containing the strength
Created by all that support.
Why am I supported so, I wondered?
Why do I need an army of angels?
I await the answer,
it will come to me in a flash of insight!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
Reveressence
A tickle at the root
A trickle at the root
The trick is in not minding it
In no sense, unwinding it
Ground water, like an army
Soon grows into a spring
Of harmonious energy
Surfacing to sing a song
That flows, outpours
The Essence
Restores the world to Innocence.
A trickle at the root
The trick is in not minding it
In no sense, unwinding it
Ground water, like an army
Soon grows into a spring
Of harmonious energy
Surfacing to sing a song
That flows, outpours
The Essence
Restores the world to Innocence.
Whole Futures
Moonlight in my eyes
Poetry in my soul
Sweet rush of chaos
How can I explain?
Words betray me, they
Appear faster than I can write.
Images flash by
Whole futures,
God awake in the world,
Golden ages.
Images last longer, a half-life,
And I strive to grasp them
Render them
Tell them
What I see.
Poetry in my soul
Sweet rush of chaos
How can I explain?
Words betray me, they
Appear faster than I can write.
Images flash by
Whole futures,
God awake in the world,
Golden ages.
Images last longer, a half-life,
And I strive to grasp them
Render them
Tell them
What I see.
Spirit speaks
I’m writing poems again.
A sure sign that my spirit is returning
Or is it me that is returning to it?
The fact that I refer to my spirit as ‘it’
Is a dead giveaway for who’s speaking
Does spirit speak?
And am I that spirit?
Would not I have more certainty if that were so?
Or am I in fact both spirit and matter?
Not wanting anymore to fling my body aside
Like a silk shirt on a hanger
Flapping disconsolately in the wind.
No, now I want to inhabit this body
Occupy this physical space
Make my Presence felt
An unmanifested vision is but a fantasy.
I see too much in the eyes in my head
And feel too little of what’s in here.
In here things are different.
Saner. Holier.
It is wholly I speaking
And when I speaks
I speaks with Love.
Love loves death,
and Love loves life
And God is a whisper away,
on the next pillow……
A sure sign that my spirit is returning
Or is it me that is returning to it?
The fact that I refer to my spirit as ‘it’
Is a dead giveaway for who’s speaking
Does spirit speak?
And am I that spirit?
Would not I have more certainty if that were so?
Or am I in fact both spirit and matter?
Not wanting anymore to fling my body aside
Like a silk shirt on a hanger
Flapping disconsolately in the wind.
No, now I want to inhabit this body
Occupy this physical space
Make my Presence felt
An unmanifested vision is but a fantasy.
I see too much in the eyes in my head
And feel too little of what’s in here.
In here things are different.
Saner. Holier.
It is wholly I speaking
And when I speaks
I speaks with Love.
Love loves death,
and Love loves life
And God is a whisper away,
on the next pillow……
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Brother Sun, Sister Moon
The Moon was full, high in the sky this morning
I did not intend to wake for the sunrise.
But both the Sun and the Moon beckoned me.
So I rose unresisting.
And headed for the hills.
No Moon in sight.
No Sun either.
Just me, the dogs, the birds
And the promise of another unpredictable moment.
For fifty years I've been asleep
To the magic of sunrise.
Asleep to the Presence
That comes with new light everyday.
But today is another day, and if I'm lucky
I'll have another chance tomorrow.
Awash in mist, the whole hillside
Waits with bated breath
For the pale gold orb that rises
delicately above the blanket of mist below.
The cool wash of morning chi energy
Swims up my spine...
The whisperless reward for those who
greet the gift of Dawn
Gratitude wells up in me every morning
To know that Sunrise is free
And it is everywhere,
Everyday.
The only thing I need to do
to receive this gift
is be Awake.
I did not intend to wake for the sunrise.
But both the Sun and the Moon beckoned me.
So I rose unresisting.
And headed for the hills.
No Moon in sight.
No Sun either.
Just me, the dogs, the birds
And the promise of another unpredictable moment.
For fifty years I've been asleep
To the magic of sunrise.
Asleep to the Presence
That comes with new light everyday.
But today is another day, and if I'm lucky
I'll have another chance tomorrow.
Awash in mist, the whole hillside
Waits with bated breath
For the pale gold orb that rises
delicately above the blanket of mist below.
The cool wash of morning chi energy
Swims up my spine...
The whisperless reward for those who
greet the gift of Dawn
Gratitude wells up in me every morning
To know that Sunrise is free
And it is everywhere,
Everyday.
The only thing I need to do
to receive this gift
is be Awake.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
A poem for the new year
Words cannot explain the ineffable, they say
The mystery defies eXplanation, I’m told
But the X is plain to see
And it takes a Five and a good deal of defiance
To see that the story of the
IN-DIVIDE-DUAL
Is the story of polarity
Black and white
Good and Evil
Love and Fear
How is this division bridged?
By recognizing the essential unity
Of our experience.
I cross that bridge again and again
In every infinitesimal second
And I cross that bridge between my
Two hemispheres.
We live in a whole in time
A worm hole to a new dimension.
The mystery defies eXplanation, I’m told
But the X is plain to see
And it takes a Five and a good deal of defiance
To see that the story of the
IN-DIVIDE-DUAL
Is the story of polarity
Black and white
Good and Evil
Love and Fear
How is this division bridged?
By recognizing the essential unity
Of our experience.
I cross that bridge again and again
In every infinitesimal second
And I cross that bridge between my
Two hemispheres.
We live in a whole in time
A worm hole to a new dimension.
Friday, November 27, 2009
thanksgiving poem
You know its so easy to start a thanksgiving poem
With some soapy statement like I'm grateful for
And then start making a pious list of all the things one is grateful for:
Autumn leaves, and purring kitties
But could I really say I'm grateful for this headache that peppers my menopausal days?
Or that I'm grateful for my first thanksgiving without my son?
I'm grateful that my son and I are like virtual strangers to each other
And we give each other acute social anxiety?
But what is being grateful, really?
Its being full of great.
And gratitude is clearly a great attitude
Which comes from being full of great.
It begs the question: Am I really full of great?
And that question eternally winds me back to the answer:
an attitude adjuster like no other.
What I'm full of
Is the ever-evolving, infintesmial
life force, god-force
Messianic power, climbing up that spiral staircase
And breaking out through me
Like a shower of fiery autumn leaves,
Falling on cold hard earth,
Like a silky purr ball of ginger love
Sleeping on my head
Like the Northern lights
Lighting up my tiny little wigwam
Reminding me that all I am is god, god, god god, god
Oh God, is that all there is?
And that makes me feel great-full.
With some soapy statement like I'm grateful for
And then start making a pious list of all the things one is grateful for:
Autumn leaves, and purring kitties
But could I really say I'm grateful for this headache that peppers my menopausal days?
Or that I'm grateful for my first thanksgiving without my son?
I'm grateful that my son and I are like virtual strangers to each other
And we give each other acute social anxiety?
But what is being grateful, really?
Its being full of great.
And gratitude is clearly a great attitude
Which comes from being full of great.
It begs the question: Am I really full of great?
And that question eternally winds me back to the answer:
an attitude adjuster like no other.
What I'm full of
Is the ever-evolving, infintesmial
life force, god-force
Messianic power, climbing up that spiral staircase
And breaking out through me
Like a shower of fiery autumn leaves,
Falling on cold hard earth,
Like a silky purr ball of ginger love
Sleeping on my head
Like the Northern lights
Lighting up my tiny little wigwam
Reminding me that all I am is god, god, god god, god
Oh God, is that all there is?
And that makes me feel great-full.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I Give You Back
I give you back.
I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear.
I release you, you were my beloved and hated twin,
but now I don't know you as myself.
I release you with all the pain I would know
at the death of my daughters.
You are not my blood anymore.
I give you back to the soldiers who burned down my home,
beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who took the food
from our plates when we were starving.
I release you fear,
because you hold these scenes in front of me
and I was born with eyes that can never close.
I release you fear so that you can no longer
keep me naked and frozen in winter,
or hot and thirsty in summer.
I release you
I am not afraid to be angry
I am not afraid to rejoice
I am not afraid to be black
I am not afraid to be white
I am not afraid to be hungry
I am not afraid to be full
I am not afraid to be hated
I am not afraid to be loved, to be loved, to be loved.
Oh you have choked me but I gave you the leash,
Now I have no neck.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife,
Now you have no hands.
You have devoured me but I laid myself across the plate,
Now you are full and the plate is empty.
I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't hold you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice, my belly,
Or in my heart, my heart, my heart.
But come here fear.
I am alive, and you are so afraid of dying.
Unknown Poet
I release you, my beautiful and terrible fear.
I release you, you were my beloved and hated twin,
but now I don't know you as myself.
I release you with all the pain I would know
at the death of my daughters.
You are not my blood anymore.
I give you back to the soldiers who burned down my home,
beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who took the food
from our plates when we were starving.
I release you fear,
because you hold these scenes in front of me
and I was born with eyes that can never close.
I release you fear so that you can no longer
keep me naked and frozen in winter,
or hot and thirsty in summer.
I release you
I am not afraid to be angry
I am not afraid to rejoice
I am not afraid to be black
I am not afraid to be white
I am not afraid to be hungry
I am not afraid to be full
I am not afraid to be hated
I am not afraid to be loved, to be loved, to be loved.
Oh you have choked me but I gave you the leash,
Now I have no neck.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife,
Now you have no hands.
You have devoured me but I laid myself across the plate,
Now you are full and the plate is empty.
I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't hold you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice, my belly,
Or in my heart, my heart, my heart.
But come here fear.
I am alive, and you are so afraid of dying.
Unknown Poet
Room with a View
Same house,
different rooms.
One has light. One is dark
The dark room has a magnificent view
If you can only get to the window
Without tripping over the furniture
In the dark.
different rooms.
One has light. One is dark
The dark room has a magnificent view
If you can only get to the window
Without tripping over the furniture
In the dark.
Limits
Containing Joy
I’m full to the brim
Walk steadily, now
Stay in balance
Stop when the stopping’s good
Then
The liquid ecstasy of Being
Will not spill
And get wasted.
I’m full to the brim
Walk steadily, now
Stay in balance
Stop when the stopping’s good
Then
The liquid ecstasy of Being
Will not spill
And get wasted.
Faithfulness in the Center
This morning at 7:30
I rolled out of bed
And while the kettle was boiling
I threw my hexagram for the day.
At the sixth throw, the coin stood
On it’s edge, perfectly balanced
Neither heads nor tails.
I nudged it with the Tao te Ching
Which happened to be
The book closest at hand.
But the coin didn’t fall.
It just stood still in the middle.
I saw that the choice was mine to make
Whether it would be heads or tails.
Rather than leave it to chance,
I could choose.
Heads gave me hexagram 61: Faithfulness in the Center
The power to move even pigs and fishes, hmmmmmmm
Tails gave me hexagram 60: Discipline, ouch!
But, as every disciple knows, faithfulness needs discipline.
So I didn’t choose.
I too, stood still in the middle.
I rolled out of bed
And while the kettle was boiling
I threw my hexagram for the day.
At the sixth throw, the coin stood
On it’s edge, perfectly balanced
Neither heads nor tails.
I nudged it with the Tao te Ching
Which happened to be
The book closest at hand.
But the coin didn’t fall.
It just stood still in the middle.
I saw that the choice was mine to make
Whether it would be heads or tails.
Rather than leave it to chance,
I could choose.
Heads gave me hexagram 61: Faithfulness in the Center
The power to move even pigs and fishes, hmmmmmmm
Tails gave me hexagram 60: Discipline, ouch!
But, as every disciple knows, faithfulness needs discipline.
So I didn’t choose.
I too, stood still in the middle.
Mnemonic
He Died
And entered the Ocean of Forgetting
For getting fish
For getting more
Aquatic invader par excellence
Sailing from shore to shore
Until all that’s left was Mnemniopsis
Littering the Black Sea shore.
Remember, remember, the jelly screams
There is nothing in my wake
I eat up all your protein dreams
Like you, I over take.
And entered the Ocean of Forgetting
For getting fish
For getting more
Aquatic invader par excellence
Sailing from shore to shore
Until all that’s left was Mnemniopsis
Littering the Black Sea shore.
Remember, remember, the jelly screams
There is nothing in my wake
I eat up all your protein dreams
Like you, I over take.
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