Saturday, May 26, 2012

Desert Song

 May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. 
 May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
  May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers.
  Into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone.
And down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs.
 Where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags.
Where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you beyond that next turning of the canyon walls

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Presence of Self

I Write Another Phrase Of My Forgotten And Renewed 
Thoughts. I wonder And I Dream About Thing That Could
Have Been, But Turn Away On The Forgotten And Look
Towards The Future And Hope That I Will Find Settlement
There. But As I Am Further More Disappointed I Force My
Self To Look  Away As many Do And Few Don't. I Settle 
For The Cool Beating Of My Heart And Collapse Against
My Own Self Existence. For I Am In The Very Presence
Of My Self And It Is Now And It Is Amazing. I Renew,
Renew, And Renew My Awareness Of Being One With All
And Being All In One. The Excitement, The Anticipation,
The Pain, The Pleasure, The Thrill Of Being Alive And Living
Each Second Of A Renewed

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Vague But Now

My Mind Is Vague But It Is Now 
I Exist But Do Not Live A Second Of It
I Own The Journal But Don't Write In It 
I Have The Right Words But Do Not Speak It
I Have The Tools But Do Not Carve
I Know The Song But Do not Sing It
Just Quietly Hum It
I Could Start
But Am To Scared
To Finish


 We didn't build bridges simply to avoid walking on water. Nothing so obvious. A bridge is a meeting place. A neutral place. A casual place. Enemies will choose to meet on a bridge and end their quarrel in that void...For lovers, a bridge is a possibility, a metaphor of their chances. And for the traffic in whispered goods, where else but a bridge in the night?

Yes I will come for you. Roll my strength into a ball for you. Throw myself across chance for you. I will be the bridge or the pulley because you are the dream.

Friday, May 4, 2012

Your Broken Words

Didn’t anyone mention hate is all we show?
Love is not a side we care to know.
You cut half your heart; it makes it hard to grow.

But soon, you will know…that we’ll all be dammed in the morning; we’ll all be dammed in the evening too.

We’ll all be dammed when the sun won’t shine, and your hateful words will come floating back to you.

Didn’t anyone teach you power is all you need?
You cheat your brother and you drag him through the weeds.
A sharp quick incision should be all you need.

But soon, you will see…that we’ll all be dammed in the morning; we’ll all be dammed in the evening too.

We’ll all be dammed when the sun won’t shine, and your broken words will come floating back to you.