What’s Coming

At the top of my list, of course,
is breath, but my next best friend

is death. They walk me, teasing,
loyal life wants to live

escorted in the arms of lovers
dancing in the flavors love

layers. Naming every birth
we create separation illusions

with our powerful beliefs
that sweep us past and future

rocketing by the song-now.
Birds chittering through oldgrowth

forests sound the alarm as we
play foreigners, our roots forgotten

we emerge from trees
and soil, composted

through uncountable millenia.
We chirp until named, we spread

our wings in arrogant denial
a flurry of greed to clothe ourselves

in what we buy in fear of
our imminent demise. Missing

the call to shine, eminent
moment of this particular voice

in this astral alignment.
When we walk in peace with our death

unafraid, we open up the stranglehold
past, let go of the predetermined

future at last, the patterns blown
in our explosive joy.

Death isn’t lurking, looming, it’s coming
for you now in deep orgasmic waves thrumming:

Our only prerogative, let’s be clear,
is to be alive right now, right here.

Inspired by Prerogative, Explosive, Foreigner and Eminent.

Soundcloud recording here.

The Leading Edge

Our vibration goes up when we serve.~Thomas Huebl

A baby won’t ask for anything
you can’t give. All you have
requested by life that wants
to live. And I’m not trash talkin’
your mama, so caught in tight
ancestral trauma that a cry
in that wailing treble lands
like a devil in those spaces
genetically disheveled.
There is no blame, the centuries
laid out clearly but we can’t see
the hidden sculpture, life
is not as it seems. We think the
pain may become our mainstay
if we don’t struggle. Make way.
We find ourselves while running
from what’s wronging
flee the leading edge, our
most farfetched longing
arms we hold outstretched
we’re cautious, sniff the aromatic
clues, scents enigmatic and so
problematic and yet
a child knows when it’s time
to snuggle, surrender to the
fear. So often trouble
is the gift. When we accept
unwrap, perplexed, but willing
to be still upon the lap
we’ve cried for, all that rises
in connection the winds,
the seas, the branches bending
low to feel our wailing cease.
Finally heard, we acquiesce
and “carry me!

Inspired by Mainstay, Devil, Century and Aromatic.

Soundcloud recording here.

A Thousand Miles Begins

Only when I walk forever, I have time for now and for you.~Thomas Huebl.

Like a curious time traveller
I arrive into the tribal
village, shaking my rain-
laden hair, blurring the ink
on these cryptic pages.
What is precise is
beyond words. Still, we
chant by campfire. Now
is true love peering
a surprised town crier.

Swimming an electric river
every atom buzzing, aquiver.
Forget the clock claiming
it’s time to scream, 3 a.m.
and nothing to do, only
to be aware of the false lonely.
Attempts to demarcate are made
afraid. This journey, a cascade,
is our masterpiece, ringing,
each essential voice singing

in our own key, a symphony
with all that should be
swirling through the fear
sometimes welcome here.
Allowing what is essential
to burn in this ancestral
fire’s focused laser weaving
lessons of millennia believing
us like chained sleepwalking bells
pulling sounds of now into our cells.

Inspired by: the palindromic date 02022020, Tribal, Journey, Masterpiece and Demarcate. And the song 3 a.m. by Matchbox Twenty since my poem emerged when the clock showed 3. And Lao Tzu’s, “the journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet.”

Sound recording here.

Someday I’ll Wish

When man up is extinct
and we escape the patriarchal
clinch, embrace instead
what’s rarely said in macho
bravos–lunatic fringe
simply a piece of our
extended tapestry–in short,
when we appear just as we
are, with deep respect
(the long neglect of hope
suspect when we must always
correct some fault that’s deep
within our ancestry) when
that day is here
I declare
the evolutionary leap
the shift is in the air
we breathe and suddenly
we see the edgy intricacy
of our imperfect beauty
simplicity when we
bowing, stunned, aware
there is no better you
the one that we receive
and care, unplumbed
perfection when we dare
admit the hidden pieces
the critic sighs,
looses and releases.

Inspired by: Rarely, Extinct, Hope, Clinch and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Man Up, the last movie I saw.  Once again, the demand to create a stream of consciousness post stretched me beyond my comfort zone.  And I’m glad!

Soundcloud recording here.

It’s All Relative

To my Grandaunt Perdita, photo taken on her 98th birthday.

No one points out the bruises
puce under translucent skin
still we all picture the leap
during sleep.  A gap between
dreams, her body calls.  Pulled
across the floor, barely
in when she falls, slams into
tables and walls. In our impulse
to accommodate her reckless
drive, we push aside the traps,
all clear for her next dive.
It’s just the cost, she sighs,
of being old–well into her
tenth decade–colors bold
and fading. A map of every
mishap, the body’s upbraiding
layered pain. Even now,
she gasps, oh, I’ll remember
this! holding an aching thigh.
No longer limber, more and more
half-dozing in a chair, all the live
parts dancing disconnected
in the air. Rejected pain
both old and new. The only
thing loved ones can do
is offer space to come back
down, recall the sacred place
where we at birth are found.
Death is just a step away.
The clear choice to sing today,
with harmony just out of reach
the song itself is under siege.

Inspired by: Accommodate, Puce, Leap and Impulse and the indomitable will and cheer of an amazing Capricorn woman.

Listen on soundcloud here.

Still Sleeping?

The birds would like to know why
she cut down the lilac bush
right before this big snow.
They call down the chimney.
Query unheard. My voice
more clear. She says, I never
thought about the birds,
taking a breather,
watching her suet feeder,
looking for tracks in the deep
unbroken white. Sure in her right
execution the solution.
The bush expired
her affection–she admired
a different sort.
So life’s cut short.
From this insulated box
the wilderness a paint-by-number
jumbled mess. On Fox, perceptive
of the sentience celebrated
the flickering screens
calibrated us versus them.
Even her own species judged,
dismissed. The other beings
begrudged in cages and she’s
forgotten that they need
nourishment. Feed them.
I remember her
ancestors chopped venerated trees
to claim the land still red
with the forced exodus
of genocide. Don’t count the dead.
I dial in most days. The line
is busy. There is no forwarding
through the haze, darker
hellbent recreation
keep the past labelled
the future with a magic
marker that fools no one
or everyone, fast asleep.

Inspired by: Dial, Chimney, Perceptive and Expired.

Listen to this on soundcloud.

What Emerges As I Am

Was it very obvious, my next step?
Soon as I decided, couldn’t be
no corporate rep. Choosing very carefully
organic foods that I can eat,
you know, just a breath away
from livin’ on the street.

And you can call me hypocrite
living like I am
deep in my own shit
tryin’ hard as I can
to take a look at it
and I am blind
tryna be wise
but the helicopter mind
gets in my eyes
keeps me spinning away from my base
gotta sit in my body,
gotta find grace.

Now I’m not tryna finna path
to glory and fame
just fumbling for a lightswitch
to illuminate my shame.

Looking closely at the moments
when I say it’s too hard
exactly then from the mists
rises up my prison guard.
I’m locked and loaded.
No one gets through.
I’m not available to me or you.
A walkin’ talkin’ automaton
and I’m wondering, do you realize
when I am gone? ‘Cause I can’t tell.
I’m used to it. Maybe as a child
I was confused by it.

It holds us back, affects you, too,
puts a damper, pulls the brakes
on every single thing we do
moving deep into the shadows
where the power can’t get through
it’s disconnected, all out of whack
another fragmented person
with credible blues.

I’m peerin’ through time
at this new landscape.
There’s no running back,
ain’t no place ahead.
No escape. Quiver with dread.
Winter stripping off the greenery
that masked this burden. Holdin’
all this dead stuff, pretendin’
it’s not hurtin’
sitting here in question land
my heart open wide
allowing the new
to emerge as I am.

Inspired by a hike in the woods and this huge old tree holding up so many dead limbs.

Listen to this on soundcloud here.