Coming Home

The bones ache with Autumn this time of year

I creak like two old trees rubbing together

At my feet lay the year’s growth I have casually cast aside

It rustles like pages unwritten in my memory

For I am a tree questing roots into the nameless

Sipping upon waters deep as a mountain

I taste starlight in my inhales of solace

And Terra in my whispers of song

 

I am a moment captured

Suspended in the fractal of a crystal or

Ethereal poem of epiphany

 

I am the Truth and I am the Seeker

I am one more link in the chain of millions

All breathing in this moment with me

 

And I am content

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October Sky

Darkness clings as the scent of a lady’s perfume

On the breeze, softly padding by, her skirts rustling like palm fronds

The night is sultry

Sly silver smile of moon beckons from behind the shear veil of an Autumn mist

Then one by one like Salome, she sheds October cloud

Till her wicked grin flashes nakedly in the dark

 

I smile back at her

Filling my eyes as I would two cups of clean water

If I were stranded in a desert

 

The Serpent Road

 

A road wends like a snake in the grass

Without the meataphor usually associated

To reptiles given a bad reputation

This road did not lurk or menace

It lay sunning itself, contentedly

On a hillside painted in lavender hues

Of late blooming clover

 

My feet found it warm, worn smooth

Brown leaves crackle as layers of old scale

Peeling from the serpent’s hide

And they whispered as the winds came ’round

To fondly muss my hair and make the trees sing

 

Years went by in the hum of crickets

Autumn molded my breath

Callouses grew, peeled and grew again

I left pieces of them behind me, shedding my skin

 

Old ones say the Snake Road

Girdles the belly of the world

And I believe that could be true

For I have seen it shimmering in the gloaming

Stretching it’s sinuous curve beyond the horizon

I have tasted the spirit molecule and seen the fractal universe

In the petals of a wildflower

Just Over The Hill, Not Far Away

Hush, my dear one

Come nearer to my stony heart

This mountain of flesh and bone

Here the grass grows greener

Tickles your toes when they are naked

The stream of consciousness is clean, pure of hatred

Please, drink till your thirst for Truth has been sated

Fill your mouth with fruits of knowledge

No apples are forbidden here

The dawn chorus still sings to your blood

In this cathedral of trees and azure sky

The earth is black and pregnant with decay

In Her womb rest the seeds of our future gardens

Where our beans will climb the corn stalks

And our children will climb the chestnuts

 

 

Sea Of lies

Where

In all this turbulent

Turbid

Current

Pulling violently hither and yon

Is the pool of thought still enough

For me to SEE myself?

 

Also

As these waters so agitated

Assault my jagged edges

Am I worn smooth

Or merely

Worn down?

 

Prowling in the deep

I have seen sharks

Silver flashing like a blade

Menacing

And I wonder

For who are those knives intended?

 

 

 

This post is in reaction to the political shit show currently hitting the fan. I refuse to elaborate enough has been said already.

I apologize for being absent on my blog lately it has been hard for me to find that space.

Communing With Cliffs

Fledgling grey are the cloud covered cliffs

Infantile in a wan light of dawn

Sharp jagged teeth obscured, softened

By downy feathers of mist

 

Presently, I am witness

When sunshine at last burns away this youthful visage

That dark plumage rises like the wings of an albatross

And takes flight over the undulating Pacific

Revealing rippling muscles of volcanic stone

The red, lined face of a wizened elder

A memory of volcanos in the hollow roar of wind

 

With many faces, the cliff gazes upon my seat in the sand

I see her molten and raging

I see her crumbling back into the embrace of sea

I see her holding bones like a babe to her breast

 

Arising reluctantly from my wind-swept bluff

I return to my bi-pedal state of mind

Tenderly leaving my woven sweet grass

To wander in the breeze

 

Visions Of The Blind

Your words were broken glass

Shattered  slices of light reflected, refracted

Into shades of grey and deepening black

Festooning the walls of our false celebration

 

Rainbows painted on retreating syllables

As the last rays of day

Embrace the sea

With painted longing

 

How beautiful

How fleeting

Is the sunset

 

In all those sharp contrasts of relative perception

A pervasive metaphor in a private hue

Glimpsed fleetingly and solitary

Whilst amid the pomp and ego