Train of Thought

“Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears Today of Past Regrets and Future Fears~Omar Khayyám

out here with the beings who keenly fly
attuned to the sky clock routinely, why
do I ever retire to the box-wired
prison, the matrix of beliefs bone-dry?

my dreams lift me back to balance
what my heart might behold and sing
immense truths words fail to hold though I try
tuning my instrument in the wellspring

earthbound where we’re recycled lift your voice
this moment is alone what we rejoice
our mother’s gift too vast to comprehend
we breathe, receive, and give this now our choice.

Inspired while reading The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyám at dawn on the porch while birdsong coaxed the light.

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!


Check, Please

They’re gaming the system

with pride, even as they

obediently take their prescriptions

for anxiety, pain, inflammation,

sleeplessness, heartache.

Playing poker in the lobby

with bonhomie, impressed

that they are making a scene.

Everybody loves us, they proclaim

to the people who know them

best.  I don’t ante up.

I am a harbinger

although my despair in this cold

slow spring questions my value

lost like a whispered no

in the thundering arena

where slaves face

the gladiators’ poisons.

I need you to remind me.

I call out to awaken

you, we, us, what is true

trembling on the edge

of disaster.  I’m naked, unarmed

facing the chain-mailed monster

fueled by my fury.

My fury his fuel.

All throughout the multiverse

beings are singing


to our experience

of each lonely corner

of separation.  This nightmare

tale of hunger, our food

plastic replicas of far-off

nutrition no longer available.

Was it ever?  The screens flicker

with yesterday’s trance-tales

but in front of us, the pavement

is rutted, gaping sinkholes

of decay.  I dedicate myself

to illogical unreason,

a misfit creating new myths,

forsaking the shores

of mainstream with its neon

enticements.  My hunger

shifts me

from the groaning

table, abruptly

leaving this meal


following the new

scent like hope

in the darkness.


Inspired by Value, Spring, Harbinger, Dedicate and this poem by Caitlin Johnstone, One Rebel.

Connect The Dots

Word of the day: “Eremocene” – “the Age of Loneliness”; the “miserable future” into which we are accelerating as a species, characterised by the existential & material isolation that comes from having calamitously extinguished other forms of life on Earth (coined by E.O. Wilson). ~ Robert McFarlane

This package of one hundred

trillion cells walking around

nonchalant.  Whirring mind

circling patterns of thoughts

glorious belief


ignoring this intricate composition

or totally clueless.  The ruler of all you see,

these limbs and organs your dumb

subjects in thrall to your dominion.

And the sapient being

orchestrating the flow of your present

while the thing you call

me is out on a limb

venturesome, sawing industriously

after poisoning all the creatures

infesting the dead branch

because the rich gift

of decomposition is beyond you.

I’ve tried yelling, along with the children

up the massive tree:

we’re all one,

watching your fearsome arc

toward annihilation of us all,

and you can’t hear

as if we inhabit another

dimension that you deny

even as you try to torch

the portal.  Complexity is too

confusing, you opt

for simple black

and white and choose your

target, armed and dangerous

sprinting for the

last page, the way of all

fairy tales, forgetting

happily ever after

is the end.

Inspired by:  Venturesome, Sapient, Target, and Connect.