Dreams of Mountains

Did you watch the blood Moon total Lunar Eclipse last night? It was wondrous -- Feb 21 2008

I watched the blood red Lunar eclipse last night
until the face of Goddess Luna turned white

Then I meditated on this celestial event
looking to the meaning of what this meant

Upon reflection about this I have to say
that this is the meaning I found today

I rode my bike up the mountain to the sky
and flew back down and wondered why

the mountain dreams in streams rushing to the sea
where the waves are gathering but all disagree

about the many splendoured suns glittering around
and whether they are jewels the mountain found

a dance of words to a music only the heart can hear

the heart of language
is words with wonder
revealing the Lover
as translator of Dreams

as translators of
the wonderful Dream
we Love language
with words of heart

in our hearts, words
are Dreams of a language
in Loving translations
full of wonders

this wonderful Dream
of translating hearts
into words as
the language of Love

this language of Love
is what our Hearts
wonder, translating
Dreams into words

as Dream Lovers
we are wondering about
translations of words from
the language of the heart

as language Dreamers
we write the words on
our hearts translating
the wonder of Love

as Lovers of wonder
we Dream of translating
words from a language
only the heart can hear -

bedroom window

sleepy
looking at the sky –
before the fire

the crescent moon
fell into the ocean
to the windy howls of night -

a hopeless lantern
a wandering orb
longitudinally waned

transiting with gravity -
warning bells burdened
our surrounding faces

to lost and unbelonging -
so peregrinated
by the reaching sea -

black smoke
blots out the sky
where once we dreamed -

Oh, our Hearts

There are moments when rhapsody
expands the heart to bursting in song
like the rays of the morning Sun.

Lovers are by night and day,
they travel in silken weaves,
teardrops when they cannot stay,
dreams of future meetings on sandy beaches
and not once do they doubt their loving
as there is no thought of this,
yeah, they are lost in the kiss -

– To kiss the beloved with the same
kiss the beloved kisses me
and in that kiss live an eternity –
Oh, our Hearts know this,
Love attracts Love,
the secret of the kiss –

in the Garden of Hearts where Love grows,
you and I and we are unnecessary distinctions -
let us be this empty yearning together,
with this ancient ache of longing,
the heart a compass, taking us where,
Love is the goal, I'll meet you there –

- there are ecstasies lingering between these words,
feelings of connectivity rhapsodizes the spaces and longing,
that intimate language of the Heart, permeates therein -

You feel the words like the warmth of the Sun
making you pause --
a remembrance in the light
the silent song in the particle
hurtling through space to your face -

to look and look and dare to see
from in the Heart so wonderfully,
that all the beauty we can embrace
comes from inside your original face -

A Heart of Love knows not to compare
'nor differentiates in any way,
as Love is as Love does
making only Love every day.

As above and so in you
the light, the warmth, the sky of blue
and in the darkest of the nights
the Stars that sparkle as they do...

I see the glint of light in your eye,
– it shows how bright shines your flame,
and by this enamoured fire gives the light again and again -

this heartful prayer flashing in a Loving look
- bursting with the light of the Sun.

the first man

Maman sat in the dark
waiting for the end -
Papa the ‘pied-noir’
wouldn’t be returning
from the dead – those silent ones

It makes no difference –

The scent of a flower
or a Woman watching
the crescent moon falling into the ocean
to the windy howls of night –
‘Le vent a Djemila’

we are all strangers in eternity –

An uneasy alliance
between contradiction
and the monkey mind:
the absurdity of meaning –
We make our Gods from
peccadilloes and revenge
to assuage our unbelonging –

The Stars stare mute
at our irreversible mutation –
We each arise from that same solitude
to despair or righteous indignation
to the worlds horrible suffering –

Near Montereau driven
with intense indifference
between misery and the Sun -
a lone tree halts my pain
I, alone, extinguished
Never to return again –

Happy to have been!

‘Do not wait for the last judgement. It takes place every day.’ -- Albert Camus

in the future you are becoming --

-- laughter raises the vibration such that the Corpus Colosseum amplifies the hemispherical connections so you see brighter and clearer and more funny connections -- I look in the mirror and often end up laughing hysterically -- it's my undoing I'm really laughing about -- well I laugh about every small thing these days -- or i cry -- sometimes I just look and see the beloved in me and she smiles back -- how did Rumi put it, "You can not see yourself without a mirror, Look at the Beloved, sHe is the brightest mirror."

All thy wrath was thy mercy
Thy poison, sweet clemency
Like dark clouds' sweet potency
And so we say, may it be so

Mevlana Jalal-e-Din Mevlavi Rumi

-- the perspective here is that in any dire situation you find your self in shows you the clarity you can have in all situations -- eyes always on is the writer's way they say -- misery is often the process of undoing so we can recreate ourselves anew -- like we do when we write -- the impassioned writer -- we do disassemble ourselves from time to time to recreate ourselves anew

-- reduction and regeneration is where you rewrite the old into the new, thats what we as writers do

-- they are our little darlings these writes we write and we send them out on binary seas to watch them as they float or sink or in a blink a click of the mouse a flick of the finger are lost and gone but we are grown to more writes that move our hand along -- we write ourselves into the story of existence --

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it

-- the Rhubyiat of Omar Khayyam

It is this like a Quantum Field experiment with the option to look inside and see if the cat is dead or not -- God does not play dice with the Universe and the dice are loaded!

I'm reminded of the Mythologies of the Nile Kings. On their journey to forever, through to the other side they must stop and be questioned and their Hearts weighed against a feather. They are asked two questions which assure their journey to a Heaven or a Hell world. The first question is, 'Have you ever experienced JOY?' The second and more profound with relevance to Poetic realization is, ' Have you ever brought JOY to others?' -- there it is, the Secret to Immortality! Raising the vibration. Alchemy at the quantum level.

Interesting -- the Nile Kings had this thing for Gold -- you know Gold this and that -- even had the humble bumble bee with them in their vessels to forever made of Gold -- they spoke of numinous valences that Gold has which assisted them in their light body transfigurations -- Quantum tunnels at the DNA level acting as transmission vortices of light gathering them to extra-dimensional flight so they had no fear of falling -- when 3 dimensionally bound and fixated the only two laws of note are the law of falling and the law of getting up -- at 11 dimensions where string theory is concerned it's all about things that go bump in the night -- there you need to see with kali's eyes

-- dead forms and rituals like labels or hierarchies or economies cannot keep pace with Truth as its revelations are always roiling and writhing Beauties for eyes that see and change for Hearts with wings of why that fly in rhythms rising on thermals of Wonder to a farther sky -- it's that convergence of Space and Time thing that happens when you get into the write -- like when you put together Now and Here you are nowhere -- it happens after the illumination that a poet is like a sphere with his centre everywhere and her circumference nowhere -- it is becoming unknown

In Q theories it's kinda like they fit ideas and speculations to mathematical algorithms like looking for a way through the senses for that which cannot be described by sense based metaphor -- like how do you describe the theory of something coming from nothing? It is a sense based limitation that Mystic's and Poets (same thing) have been trying to approach within the sense based limitations of language. Thus the need to see with kalisEyes and break up the forms and rituals of tunnel vision dualities implicit in language symbol and metaphor. The Higgs/Boson construct which they are trying to prove is the Scientific equivalent of that nothing that is the Mother of God even. The amorphousness of what is you and I at the level of Poetic expression comes close to this implicit realization -- -- a Poem becomes a Garden of Hearts where you and I are distinctions that no longer apply -- like Lovers wrestling as one under the Moon and under the Sun -- like that kiss -- to kiss the beloved with the same kiss the beloved kisses me and in that kiss is an eternity -- that convergence of Time and Space as Now and Here brought together: nowhere -- A Poem can be like that -- the Poet is an 11 dimensional channel painting a picture in words of the greater realities all around.

It is a dire situation to find ourselves at the end of our self-made ropes -- radical forgiveness removes the bonds that fear makes and let's the juicy Heart to rise like a bursting Sun shining its loving light on everyone -- shame is the guilty fear of I am not good enough where humility is the realization come of a courageous juicy Heart that we are synergistcally connected to all that is -- neither attracted nor compelled but in that Wondrous Now dancing on shifting ground Beautifully unbound --

The "I'm Special" slippery slope is a common ailment of fears and worries and even Wars are a result of this fallacy. It is the Fear of being found out lacking in some way when actually the opposite is the Truth: you are the Light and and the Truth learning to shine on -- it only feels like criticism when your ego is at stake -- that incipient fear of not being good enough.

The DarWINian DNA Dream of every sperm and every egg,
I am special they cry, look at me,
I'm the best you could ever be!
Desire monkey dreams
and I'm special ya' know 'cause I got through darWINian schemes
as the fastest lil' guy in these binary streams ...
so said the Monkey on the hierarchical tree
as he was falling unwittingly!

The New Age rigmarole is a propaganda campaign for recycling dead forms and rituals in pretty bows and ribbons -- it was the back lash to the doubt based religion of reason, i.e., Conspiracy theories -- using odiousness as a prop to wit is a wound that reason makes -- intellectually arrogant mantrums of skewed ego fears and worries combating for some hierarchical place in the tree so you can say, oh gee look at me -- tiresome desire Monkey chest thumping and head scratching antics -- friends don't let friends levitate their ego and drive at the speed of light -- the problem is the ground breaking fall -- Levitating is an 'I'm Special' slippery slope where the ego sees itself as better -- you are the Light -- shine on -- its plain and simple being real.

on the need to see with Kali's eyes

on the need to see with kali's eyes--

dead forms and rituals like labels or hierarchies or economies cannot keep pace with Truth as its revelations are always roiling and writhing Beauties for eyes that see and change for Hearts with wings of why that fly in rhythms rising on thermals of Wonder to a farther sky --

it's that convergence of Space and Time thing that happens when you get into the write --

like when you put together Now and Here you are nowhere --

it happens after the illumination that a poet is like a sphere with his centre everywhere and her circumference nowhere --

in the future you are becoming

-- the Nile Kings had this thing for Gold -- you know Gold this and that -- even had the humble bumble bee with them in their vessels to forever made of Gold -- they spoke of numinous valences that Gold has which assisted them in their light body transfigurations -- Quantum tunnels at the DNA level acting as transmission vortices of light gathering them to extra-dimensional flight so they had no fear of falling either -- when 3 dimensionally bound and fixated the only two laws of note are the law of falling and the law of getting up -- at 11 dimensions where string theory is concerned it's all about things that go bump in the night -- there you need to see with kali's eyes -- it's about becoming quantifiably unknown -- Mysticism.

-- in the future you are becoming -- laughter raises the vibration such that the Corpus Colosseum amplifies the hemispherical connections so you see brighter and clearer and more funny connections -- I look in the mirror and often end up laughing hysterically -- it's my undoing I'm really laughing about -- well I laugh about every small thing these days -- or i cry -- sometimes I just look and see the beloved in me and she smiles back -- how did Rumi put it, "You can not see yourself without a mirror, Look at the Beloved, sHe is the brightest mirror."

seeing kali

casting
the backward glance
where perspective

feels for infinity --
death looks out
unbelongingly

at swollen men
all passing by
restless to be

extinguished in eternity...

Enamouring Fire

To kiss the beloved with the same
kiss the beloved kisses me
and within that kiss live in eternity --

The Soul speaks in silences
only a willing Heart can hear,
an ancient ache of longing,
this heart, a compass, taking me where,
Love is the goal, I'll meet you there ...

The voice which talks cannot have your heart
nor can you hear that uncommonest of tongues
-- as the language of the Soul is silence --
yet you shall know when you're unspoken
you shall feel it divine
Peace is that wordless cry --

kill the poet

a poet is like a sphere
with his centre everywhere
and her circumference nowhere

her pen bursts
with tachyon trails
revealing timelessness

a formless undiscovery
of territories without maps
realizing unknowns

he writes with stillness
and soundless rhythms
only the Heart can hear

the play of invertendo
innuendo and rhyme
as ripples on a dream

unraveling eyes
dismember the dead
forms and rituals

read --
then the poet is
reborn, numinous