Sunday, March 29, 2009

Aura Semblance (old poem)

Wrestle with mortality
sharpen your tongue.
arms will yield to the demise of life
resilience is prone to break.
be prostrate, naked and betrayed.
In Passionate, quiet semblance
Illimitable threads are woven
Heavy and secret.
Harbor trust within your walls
Spill me onto your shores
Assume the sins of yesterday
on your brawny, dark form.
Skin ridged with every affection
spent on my whims.
Softened, simple rain
seeping through my uncovered symmetry
envision our world spun gold and sensuous.
The only thing sight finds is
shadowed, torn or evanescent.
My fingers seek your temperament
I feel the glow in your spirit.
Breath catches the rhythm in my breast.
sempiternity, source of serenity.
You are deep
Rising like water
In darkness silver fills the folds along your chest.
Trace the lines of my face with your hands
Carry my curve
I long to touch the cool of your temple
I sense silence trembling
This will be my surrender.
Death shows us all broken dreams.
Night gives us reason to believe
we are shadows, wasted and filled
Silhouettes in moon’s wake, watery and diffused.
The infinite stillness may overwhelm us
till our wearied eyes gasp for light.
He will come as transparent fire
Azure, and wholly divine.
Quickening the time when all we hide will be lifted.
Only dust satisfies our flesh
But someday we will become
exalted ash, transfused in savoir faire.

Euphoria Poem

Turn your ear to the weary one who hears

all the music in the world.

Look for rhythm as you slide and soar

shaking your head fast, faster, fast.

Spin me up.

Up in arms I’ll be senseless,

laughing, fall.

Resting in your red chair

stringed instruments

dazzling undertones

sound comes trumpeting through the walls

and down the path

on the water, flickering softly

in moon’s stride.

You and I Flinging madly

through a singing sphere

where clocks break with euphoria.

My Promise

-for Hillary


Come closer.

Look at these trees.

See how they bend

branches stirring green, restless leaves.

Feel my hands.

They are shaking.

I once was free and simple

spinning energy, laughing softly

like these trees.

Now I’ve reached a place too far from here.

Running straight past a forest

tearing pieces of golden leaf

along the way.

Breathless

my heart beats steady.

Young girl,

in your soul lies a stream.

It spills into your eyes

changing into darker shades

of turquoise green.

Your smile speaks to me

like waves breaking on a ridge.

I am watching time begin to

play all our dreams

with passionate strokes.

Water fills my eyes

Tears fall upon the keys.

My fingers won’t stop chasing notes.

listen closely to what they say.

We may be shadows

curving lines when silver moon peeks out at night.

Or pieces of the sky.

One thing you must always remember.

You might never be told who you really are.

We can never stop this turning world to be at peace with pain.

Look at the sky.

See the way brilliant sun catches us all on fire?

Young girl, one thing is true.

Our memories are real

like the freckles on your skin.

Even when you are broken,

believe.

Come closer.

Look at these trees.

See how they awaken with

the promise of new Spring?

The Night When The Moon...

The night When The Moon...

Edge of night

comes swiftly

spill of birds, multiplying.

Grey erodes the ground.

Hair, soft as light

Back turned to the glowing street

Where water shines, clean.

Rain sends echoes through the windows of the slowing cars that pass.

Enter into my world and see

how quickly rain can fill

the hollows of my soul.

She told me to stop crying

One day I would wake and find

purity in the unclean

life would surpass destruction.

I have tried out-running my own fears,

silencing my wavering speech

But like a wall of darkness

harnessed with every evil

She finds me

Hidden and sleepless.

Cupping my face in my hands

Legs pulled tight to my skin.

I watch shadows form on the face

of every moving thing.

The earth breathes under me

I seep these hands in dirt,

grief weighty on my shoulders,

years of toil buried deep.

I am illuminated dust

fractions of truth.

Resurrection of the void

could delay these closing eyes.

Tides (Poem)

In your eyes I am the pulse of light

yellow riveting the world at dawn.

In the cold I am numb

becoming shadows in ice.

My weight becomes one liquid motion

spilling into the creases of scourged sand.

Solid, deep heart, listen to the tides

falling fast and sucking in great waves

with every cry.

Resting (A Song)

Bring me broken words and I will mend them
Offer me an open hand and I will give you

Moving pictures in my minds eye
Color dripping from the corners of a canvas I am sheltering
Dreaming of risking all I have to save a cool light
Tinge of white
on your face dips into my poetry

Bring me linen and I will sew for you
Stars and verses from our conversations
Lay your cheek upon my shoulder
and as the room begins to dim
to a softer hue
I will waltz with you
to the doorway of your conscience
where joy consumes us there

For where I am resting
Is when you are there

Gettin There (A Folk Song)

Well it seems we're all goin to hell maybe slowly but we're all gettin there
never ready, he said we'd never be prepared
thank the doctor who brings the ease
in the medicine of our own disease
which spreads like lies through the trees
but we bow our heads and pray
hopin someone will remember us for what we saw that day
when the coffins came a rolling down our homes and halls
disaster in our fingers when he broke our jaw
we can't shutter in a camera's eye
cuz its too messy and you know we all just
wanna kick down the door and cry
Cuz we're scared we're all gonna die
and we wear down our innocence
down smoking tracks we drive
shedding jackets of despair
in the alleyways its dark, too dark to care
but the glow ahead is strong enough
to make us weep
so we lay in our misery and sleep
one eye open to watch out for thieves
over barges and freight cars
we'll let our frozen wives creep

Ruined Creek

Down here, the sky cries bitter tears.

Strips clean down to jagged bones of the valley.

Earth turns her soil sour colors,

Exposes veins and arteries,

Swelling as the sky grows closer still.

Somewhere above the steam,

Bold blue mountains furrow brows.

Smells of sulphur rise,

Creek storm surge and carnage

Vomiting toxins and gases, turns over a broken back.

Boulder eyes rolled backward

Fixed on convulsing currents slammed upon them.

Instantaneously, shattered glass.

Fragile Poem

Fragile


Held up by threads
of condensed air,
blue lungs convulse
from swallowing
yellow gases.
A boom descends on wilted hands
Battered heads
revolve in metal baskets
Glass bones splinter
then explode.
All are fragile cells:
pressured, we break.
Two ruthless wars
sunk their teeth into
our fabric, ripping out
seams with bulging, ghoulish eyes.
Plaid are poor souls,
whose colors bled deep feverish red.
When sharp arms descended,
sheared our souls in two.
From out the junk yard
Golden light seeps.
Heaped in this steamy
jungle,
tops of cathedrals,
empty swing sets,
jeweled crests
and TV sets.
Sitting atop the carnage
history books lie quietly,
pages torn from trembling leaves.
As hours pass,
Machines turn over blackened remains.
Night belongs here
to give ashen skin shelter
from the roaring sun.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Shadow

For my brother

Do you read my silence
and catch lingering smiles?
I am seated behind you
In a room where speech is bitter.
Do I soften your mood?
Like a rattling door
A shattering glass,
Do I fall on stiff ears like a bridled horse refusing to bite its bit?
Do my words return to envelope your thoughts
does my presence burden your river mind?
I am watching you
closing my lids to see you clearer, sensitively.
Hand slips to your side, pockets your insecurities.
Chest and shoulders carry you higher so you project.
I am listening.
Words are cheap, but your heart lifts them.
They take off like Arabians racing, and wear metallic suits
to win me over.
I believe because I trust, I am gilding my world with your gold.
Suddenly you stop, begin again with more emphasis and less
confidence. You are lost and weary of mistakes.
I try to help, but you push away.
How can you hold back so much?
Keep feelings under your skin.
I think and lose my focus.
I have blinked and you have gone on without me,
raising the world with depth and fixed assurance
when what we seek is unfathomable.
You and I don’t understand much.
but can we ever win the heart of God?
You have begun again, now with the piano to guide.
The keys ring and heave under weighty fingers
Breath keeping rhythm, catches in your chest.
The sun lifts our spirits,
Music allures us.
Your Inversions are good and you play with delight
thrusting me into a storm of intense wonder.
Something gets caught in the notes
and you stumble and stop.
How can you hold back so much?
Keep feelings under your skin.
My heart has won your understanding,
but I blink
and you have lost mine.

Strange Elements Poem

Who is this stranger which puts us out of ease,
a gusty wind ruffling our layers
chilling us to the bone?
Who brings the breaks that stall our furious pace?
Shake us till our change drops loose.
Pockets of sun send us off panting into a deserted place.
Wild stripes send thrills through our eyes.
Torrential light broods in our feet,
Carried away like granules of sand,
we wear out our fevered hands
tapping out words muted lips can't speak.
A swell is coming riding with an ancient scroll.
Sundering the hills, rippling like melted lava,
Swearing blood on all rooted trees
who strip their bark, giving vagrants
rest in their eaves as music stirs to
awaken all fallen drops from their leaves.

Clear The Air Poem

State has new traditions:
tune out what our enemies say
tune the dial to static,
for despised voices will be silenced.

Flashing blue turns fuzzy, rain on pavement smears
the bloody hand prints.
Badges burn citations,
clocks stop over technicalities
for caffeine turns cold hot blooded men.

Inside, pure noise reigns.
impatient eyes won't stand for interruption
of baseball bats and beatings,
boozy brains of breaking fathers, crazed lovers
spitting on each other in televised trauma
which holds applause in living rooms.

In far places,
bullets blow away faces
Nameless hordes of white collars
stand in file on payday.
Traffic along borders is freed with powder

An instant switch and power is
Electricity gives powers a plethora of data
Booming blather
computing frequencies of piffle
Energy to litter the world with words
not meant for weeping.
Burn and singe the wires
And wait for bells to ring again.

Time Poem

Lifeless brain,
Caught again trying to tame time,
Enshrouding it with numbers
Monotonously we beat figures into our heads.
Glorious feat!
We have quelled the struggling one,
Restricted the flow of the tempest to
banded symbols in our calm,
calculating minds. Our futility shows when
true time breaks lose, it is not so secure,
no solid thing spills out but fluid life.
Breaking out of a case it drips off the edge and dries up.
We bottle it, roping it in, holding it down with a paper weight.
Hysterical heads tipped back,
we proliferate paper dolls, dozens of flimsy faces
silently stare, each vacuous like its mitigated mouth.
Time is pierced into our planners, our days are not golden leaves but shriveled petals.
We move in blindness, never to salvage our bleeding dreams from a self inflicted wreckage.
In sterilized labs we stabilize clocks.
Wrenching each screw into place,
We drill to silence our own reckless hearts,
Confining under a glass lid a surge of feral swells.

A Puerile Mindset

Modernity has shown to human beings uncontrollable, destructive forces, which knock us to our feet leave us stripped of our dignity by tearing apart our carefully crafted world. The modern concept of government and economy have two things in common: The first being our incredulousness over the fact that terrorism, hunger, poverty, war, crime and pain can, and do happen to us, and happen all the time without our consent.
Secondly, this world is not a static entity. In fact, is it quite the contrary. The globe we live on is a stormy sea where calm can never be predicted or kept for long. Because the world is defined by change, and unruly gusts of events that throw our ships off course, it would logically follow that humanity has discovered this truth to be self evident and has adjusted properly to such a reality. It is, in all honesty, quite the contrary.
The Ancients were wise, much wiser than the modern man because they understood and accepted the changing world as a simple truth. This affected their lives so that they looked at their role in the world as subject to the phenomenon around them. Modern man has his head in a cloud. The Enlightenment ideals of such philosophers as Descartes, Hume, Locke, and Rousseau have given him the vision that man can actually 'solve' problems the world presents and sit back, rest, and relax while pondering new ideas. For example, the way government is handled, is in a very idealistic manner, as if the existence of problems could be resolved simply by theorizing and working it out. History, Sociology, and Political textbooks show war, economic downtimes, racial conflicts, etc. as strange phenomenon that should be stopped immediately, and once they are, they will never happen again. The notion of progress is completely absurd and foolish. Modern man thinks he is far ahead of the past, that he has finally subdued nature and is in control of all that surrounds him. The problem with the 21st century, is that every person is in shock or awe when something bad happens. For example, the present economic crisis has sent millions of people in a tailspin. Everyone wants to know how it happened? Why? And how to prevent it from happening again. What every person fails to acknowledge is the fact that perfection didn't exist before. Whoever said the economy was doing well five years ago was wrong. Which economy? Nothing new has happened, that hasn't happened before. The scientific mind of modern man is obsessed with perfection. Modern man thinks he can perfect himself and the world around him. What happens when something goes wrong? He has to begin again, this time, with more problems than before. The world appears to be becoming more and more complex. It is just as complex as it was thousands of years ago. What has changed? The constant of change, the cycle of the world in motion. People who accepted the simple truth of change were the ones who created monarchies, developed traditions, rich cultures, and above all, rested. The modern world cannot rest because modern man hasn't realized that he can't halt the motion, or hinder the unknown. If he did, he would be spending his time creating beautiful things, building relationships, and enjoying his work, his time, no matter how long or short it might be. He did not complain, revolt, throw out his existence as it is. He was aware of pain, felt it, saw it, created it. But he did not try to escape from it, solve it, or rename it. He was a lover, not a scientist. His world, though always on shaky ground, was very solid. The ancient world developed permanence, while modern man develops emptiness. The ancient world left a thirst for wonder, while modern man is quarreling for control. The modern world is childish because it tries to fit scientific models on a wild, unharnessed world.
If a sense of mystery, intrigue, and curiosity is gone it is because humans have forgotten how to see with their own eyes. Instead, they substitute their eyes with a telescope, a microscope, a camera lens, or a scope on a machine gun. The lesson to learn here is this. The world is made of change. Human life is one of transition. Starting from this simple truth, one can see immediately what can and cannot be done. Fixing the economy, creating the best system of government, developing better technology, all these things are really very petty goals for any human being to have. Building foundations from real dirt, instead of castles in the sky is a wiser way to spend one's life.
Besides our desire for control, there is a contradictory force in all of us that goes against our own reason and judgment. We don't realize we even have it, but it is there, deep within the core of our being. It is the urge to destroy. The desire to break what we've made, ruin our progress, tear everything apart and burn it. This desire comes from our desperation for more, our feeling that this world is inadequate, and cannot provide. We seek fulfillment, and this world won't bring it to us. So we are tired of trying, and so we destroy. Secondly, we want to destroy because we want to test our lives and see what is real, if it is real. We are disappointed when life doesn't work out, because then we know deeply, and profoundly that we are fallen, and separated from the true reality that defines us and gives us meaning. The place we are wanted then most isn't around so we search for satisfaction on earth and its no where to be found. We need disappointment even though we, in our rational minds don't think so. Another problem with science is that it tricks us. We are so reliant on our reason that we fail to recognize there are other factors within us, working against our reason, so we are self defeated and then, we don't know why.

Estranged From Reality

Estranged From Reality
Reality in one's mind begs for much consistency, it lacks much tangible, plausible, or reoccurring reality. The fact is that a man will try very hard to develop a consistent, stable reality in his mind and then try to construct this reality physically in the world, trying to fit the created model in his head with the life that he knows tangibly, physically, and in his memory. This trial is one that does not go well, the model in his mind cannot fit with Reality as a whole, but it will only fill a small corner of Reality, the part that is his perspective of Reality. Although this perspective is not wrong or inconsistent with Reality as a whole, it is misleading because it is only a portion of a much larger, more complex Reality in which he has no control, and no notion to construct or understand.
One might ask the question, what is this one Reality that is universally known by all people, a perspective of reality that all agree upon? It is a particular level or mode of existence that can be confirmed by all when a group of people gather together in one space, or in the same place and acknowledge that they are all experiencing this reality verbally. When as a collective body this group of people agree upon this reality's legitimacy, for example, I see you, you see me, I agree that we are looking at the same stars together, this is in fact a unified reality, and a “stable” reality. It is stable because it is not merely in one's mind, but is confirmed physically by vocal pronunciation by more than one individual. It is the collective consciousness of these people which does not create a model of reality, but rather acknowledges together, the existence of what is already there.
Once the group of people have left this particular place in which they are gathered together they are now subject to not a collective reality, but subjected to the flux and constant stream of reality their own minds concoct. This is why it is not good for man to be isolated from people for too long, because he will go mentally insane. It is because Reality as a whole vanishes when he is given to the pure lucid, stream of “floating” reality his mind propagates for him.
Physical, constant, tangible place is inherently imperative to human sanity, growth, and the development of human psyches and relationships. To keep individuals from “floating away” into the vast, effervescent flux of their own mind's realities, they need fundamental principles, anchors to keep them from falling away unintentionally and eternally. Spacial stability is vital for people to remain in touch with a universal Reality, the whole reality, above mentioned. Modern forms of technology do not allow for stability of mind, or spacial attentiveness. It promotes constant distraction because it is constantly flashing, showing the eye a change, a movement, which is exciting to the brain which regards it as a novelty, and gives it attention. The various branches of technology that destroy the human mind are the cell phone, the television, the computer. These things are very bad for the mind because they hinder the ability for the human mind to settle down into a unified Reality with others. If a human mind makes a connection with another human mind, in a vocal way, they are connecting to this greater Reality and thus confirming their existence, their psyches, their sanity, and their humanity. Over time, technology destroys the mind's ability to focus for a long time on this greater reality, and humans then spend most of their time “floating” in the ebb and flow of their own lucid mind's realities.
Having a home, a physical, tangible place is very important for human's. Familiar faces, identifiable physical objects such as chairs, tables, lamps, etc. should be kept in the same place and not shifted or moved around much. There must be permanency. Consistent leaders in government, unchanging cultural norms, predictability in careers, religious affiliations, and family units.
Erosion is happening today because there is less vocalized agreement on the existence of Reality. Humans are becoming more and more alienated from other humans and are therefore subject to the cruel reality tricks their mind constantly creates. The more alone an individual is, and the more they are allowed to entertain the circus acts their minds perform, the less in touch with reality they are, and the more psychotic and erratic their behavior becomes.
Moral relativity, actually, the attitude of relativity everyone has today is at root, caused by this divorce from Reality. Human's are too distracted by the constant change that technology gives. This gives the feeling of permanent motion, the flightiness and feeling of floating, which is deceptively thought of as individual freedom. Human minds are distracted so much that any resting one might do seems obtrusive and actually very frightening to the mind. This restlessness, inability to ground oneself in one place, the rebellion against growing roots, or halting one's motion, is dangerous and destructive to human beings.
Instead of growing roots, a man becomes like a spoiled child. Analogous to a tree, he will pluck his leaves as soon as they grow, tear out the seams from his clothes, yank out his hair when frustrated, and beat his chest to death. He will pick at his flaws, unable to deal with the realities of his own existence, or the permanency of his own flesh. He will become an idealist, a perfectionist, a beast, a psychopath, constantly bolting from responsibility, even the own reality of his existence. If he is unhappy with it, he will create a different identity. Whichever identity suits him at the moment is what he will take hold of. Perfectionism is easy, that and idealistic, irrational thinking. It is the adrenaline that keeps us excited to move through life, and with this adrenaline constantly shot into our veins there can be no stabile reality, no permanent human being aware of his own existence. The only reality that exists is that which is in our own minds, the ever changing, lucid, stormy sea that creates insane men who have no grasp of themselves, their lives, or their connection to someone else's reality.
Finally, it can be argued that it is in fact unnatural and abnormal for human's to be constantly around other humans they have no relationship with, and do not know. Secondly, it can be argued that it is thus unnatural for it to be culturally acceptable for humans to be in the same room, or in passing of one another, not to acknowledge the other's presence. This is one reason that cities are detrimental to the development and growth of humanity. Within the unnatural setting of the city, these unquestioned cultural norms tear apart the fine, organic material of human society as it was first intended. Human beings are designed to form relationships with those who share the same space as they do. Relationships are so vital to the individual because they point to the existence of a higher Reality to which both individuals are forced to acknowledge the existence of. This is because another person is really a mirror of oneself, an acknowledgment of the legitimacy of one's own feelings and moral sense of right and wrong. When person A hurts person B, the act itself is a confirmation of the person A's moral sensibilities and the reaction from person B legitimizes person A's connection to a Higher reality that both A and B share. In a relationship, which has grown over time and gained roots and has a firm permanent root in the higher Reality, we are personally responsible for the acceptance or denial and or rejection of reality from the other person.