~~~ sinusoidally embraced ~~~

dreaming
formless
as foam touches wave
rolling, reaching, merging ~~~

connecting, feeling, giving way
to hungers ache, hips that sway
a guttural, panting, licking bite
a kissing, clawing, ravishing fight

we sigh, mad in gyration
our fluids mingle, in tessellation
eyes reflect that hunting look
the giver, the taker and the forsook
intercourse of sweat and moan
a yogic yoni and magic bone
together inhaled, a bated breath
we linger spent, in ego death

so we reap an acquiescence
a repast, over-flowed by senses
to sleep, perhaps to fondly dream
of each, our taste, and all we seem
to think no more of things we miss
to linger long, in this, deep kiss

dreaming
spinning
under the Moon
in waves of ocean, sound and light ~~~

Dada Taoist reads the I Ching

throwing the yarrow sticks, Chinese coins,
bones left after ceaseless wars --
Lao Tzu told us

destruction makes way for the new --
the old ones fingered hexagram'd solutions
with the meaning of motion sickness --

darkness births light
made of prophecies
read from tortoise shells and entrails --

war and DNA dances
the eternal turning of change where
high has fallen low and low is beholden

to everything coming and going --
ancient Chinese sages and generals
blew open the doors and shut the windows

to keep out the foreign invaders
with their great wall a line in the sand --
now the walls are shaken and the rivers gorged

drop

reflecting all the world,
risen to the sky, merged in a cloud,
dancing electric, rolling around with the sound of reverberating thunder,
whirled in wetted winds to lay upon the green leaf,
dripping on down,

d
r
i
p

d
o
w
n

to a brook meandered
into a rushing stream raging a river,

f
a
l
l
i
n
g,
crashing toward a roiling sea --

the sea, that ancient deep restless sea
... aching for the sky ...

jeff's foot or mis-Step dad

Carried by your wrath
you cared in the angry
bone-crunching perspectives
you pressed upon me,
leaving the taste of metal and salt
from the wound in my mouth.

Looks were either liked or disliked
by your wary animalisms
arrogantly frowned.

There for the breaking
you beat my wild cleverness
into a secret fragile dream.

You were never
consoling and laughed as
you won me over and over again.

You called me one day
aching for a connection,
your sad story about an infection
in the foot you kicked me with;
losing it to diabetes.

Somehow that mattered
in a cliche that rolled around inside my head:
'you've one foot in the grave.'

inWORDs flow, er and hop eh --

meaning is a kludge --
get a clue, doh!
where's your verbal toes?

not one but many
any where you dream
catching the flow, er

and hop, eh
like a frog or
butterfly winging

listening to the critiques
of croaks and songs
of Crickets and Katydids

when I am Truth I am Beauty
unless you lied
about me being ugly --

a bridge'd

Inwards murmur'd,
ungrip'd by study'd meaning --
oh loose'd Heart

-- in between'd --

Starry eye'd,
intention'd the space,
potential'd --

Speak silence'd,
power'd by the pause'd --
out Words

reason'd,
syntax'd,
sentence'd,

a bridge'd,
meander'd,
reflect'd --

In sigh'd,
high'd 'fluttering Heart',
a fragile'd perception

then dream'd
outwardly empty'd
with unmeanig'd Peace.

invertendo man inside out

death looks from within my eyes -
neither attracted nor repelled -
a life lived and all things come and go,
but this I know, that death looks through my eyes,
isn't it so - I shall pass by

deep calls to deep -
that is the longing song of
as above so in you and we are

always going and never arrive,
a surging urge,
a wavelet amongst waves
that come and in restlessness ever go -

blood makes noise and bones rattle -
I will play the bones to make my blood sing
Poetic mysteries and my tears will write earthen histories
and wash the ink of this pen with
a fluid flowing heart all over again:
an ancient echo, a longing ache in etched bones that lay awake --

as an idiot staring at forever, profoundly dumb,
without but within, neither compelled by mediocrity
nor attracted by individuality --

awash in an ocean and ever blowing
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --

inWORDS Spring out

wallowing in recycled soil
spreading it amongst the
gardens imminent growth --

a big black beetle bumbled
along the boulders of mud
carrying rainbows on its back

ambling amongst the spear
spires of new growth
reaching for the Sol of the sky --

spring sprouts out -
spring out - spring out
without a doubt

where earth meets air
the edges there --
where water meets beach

we are all facing time
as a wave against
formidable eternity --

Springing forward carrying
rainbows on our backs
reaching for the Soul

in the sky --

The Green Man

As above, 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...

the language of the Birds his secular tongue,
while silence is his noble one,
arises from a living soul within his Heart,
and washes simple throughout his Art...

This then is what we can say of Art,
that it is born of the Heart of Wonder,
which blooms as leaf in where we ponder,
and bears the fruit for all to eat,
-- ambrosia, Divinely sweet...

... this Alchemy of Awe, that sweetest sap,
that runs from roots within my chest,
and seeps to branch and leaves of Wonder,
to where it is that I still ponder ... is let
to this pen and writes with words of Love
on wings of letters to your eyes reflecting all the world ...

the state of the nation: a mystical biography

1 - gaining a sense of the divine or birth (taste)

birds twitter
as the Ravens caw
amidst the city din --

2 - the emptying of self or hardship (smell)

I'm not sure of
where I find myself
the room that I am in --

there is many a way that I can say
'distrust in these words with ease'

I'm not sure of the place I'm in
because of you, black eternity --

a tale told of mystery
a sea of mystic fire
and all the world that I am in
it is a bleak quagmire

reminiscent
of the sea --

I'm not so sure of all
the things you've been telling me
of this and that and all and sundry --

I'm not so sure of reality
though places come
and places go
and in between am I
and that is changing as I go
from here to there and why

3 - return to the divine or maturity (sight)

because of change and change rearranged
as change of change and change
deranged arranged as reigning change of love --

4 - the dark night of the soul or decadence (hearing)

As thick, as dark, as night to light
as to the why of we
and there we go as in a flight
of angels partingly

5 - the total identification with the All that is or transformation (touch)

We come and this is what we see
of all that is around
that what we are and what we hear
is all a momentous sound

no words can take what you muddle in your befuddled brain

No words can say what I am hearing
the birds a twitter or the bleakly
caw of the black raven
the carrion of black liberty --

the birds a twitter and the
Raven caws in the sin of city din
insisting on a deranged liberty -- a noble erasure

therefore timeless -

sHe is a Daemon

flickering in a glance
and the shimmer on a flowers petals
like diamonds of light -

sHe is an Angel

beating wings tipped in tears and laughter
between a heart beat
and intense disinterest
always flirting with Dreams -

sHe stumbles

upon whimpered words
but has a didactic memory when unspoken

sHe sings

often and sHe enthuses
as much as I am aMused by sHe -

sHe speaks

~ in tongues in my inner ear
while smiling at me for losing my train of thought -

the language of the Birds, her secular tongue,
while silence is her noble one,

sHe is fickle

and measures the shape of my heart
with how much awe I've beat it with today -

the final hate

will look for the last reason
to break your face all over the place
will flush with vengeance--

lies
and fears will fiercely be held
in clenched teeth

thereafter the sting of retribution
will come down hard

righteously driven desperate despot
in a truculent way

                damn slow pokes
                get off the road
                ufucking jerk off !

screeching smokescreen
screaming, shiny
jagged pieces
dripping red

               HAH--
               the sucker never knew what hit 'em --



B.C. road rage victim
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2008/03/13/bc-roadrage.html

No limit: A Rondel

There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.
These prisons do not come from up above,
Come, take heart with this feeling sublime.
Come, climb with me out of this holy slime.
Where can we go, to rise, the undreamed of!
There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.

My love, a song a singing for you, I'm
Wandering too, round about, in want of
A way through this intricate web we wove!
There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.

A rondel is a variation of the rondeau in which the first two lines of the first stanza are repeated as the last two lines of the second and third stanzas, thus a rhyme scheme of ABba abAB abbaA(B). (Sometimes only the first line of the poem is repeated at the end.)

I like to meet in tongues

I like to meet in tongues


I like to meet in tongues
so I dedicated my skull to learning about taste
feeling around for a pretty one
who gets with speaking in tongues and
licking soliloquies in my inner ear
and tastes like apples and sweet discoveries

looping and rolling tongues
licking and learning --
drinking the waters of each other
where we can taste friend or enemy
and explore what each other has
forgotten
on the
tip of the tongue

I tasted your lost keys once
and found them where you said you had looked
maybe if I lick your boots I'll know where you've been
maybe my tongue is better at tasting the future than the past

Somehow I knew we were coming to an end
I tasted your dry lips and your tongue
hid behind that uneven wall

You tasted like the metal coldness of keys forgotten
I began to feel this nauseous exasperation
I can taste it even now

It is bitter --

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.