Timeless passion seeks its Source
To fuel the drive and plot its course
And so she hung on every word
Amusing, silly little bird.
A lot of words he strung together
Like pearls upon a thread
She fell for every one of them and
Filled her pretty little head.
Bereft in her own Undoing
In her Truth, she stood alone
His words, just words, meanderings
Became her sticks and stones.
Every poet needs romance
If even in her own head but
Honeyed words that passed between
Were better left unsaid.
For she held her heart out to him
Advances politely declined
Now leave her quietly wondering
Had it all been a trick of the mind?
(c) 2011
18 March 2011
16 March 2011
Without a Trace
I am just amazed at the play of life before my eyes and in my heart.
The lives that have been not just lost but obliterated. The untold mini-dramas going on inside each of those hearts and homes - all washed out to sea with nothing save a moment's notice,
Nothing left to remember those lives by. No records. No word-vomit journals. No lovely artwork. No labours of love left to remember the dead. No gardens. No jewelry. No baby toy. No shamisen.
It's probably not exactly a slow death, nor a quick one. To be shaken out of your self so violently and then upon that realisation only the dawning of an additional impending doom to finally consider your options for survival against the greatest opponent there is - Forces of Nature. At that point I might consider surrender, but it might be that a survival instinct kicks in and I start running for higher ground. Or I might just accept my fate and invite death into my front door screaming its welcome.
I imagine all those scenarios happened and even more that I can't imagine. Reactions could very well have been determined by how one woke from their dreams of the night before. But I'd like to think that when death comes to me I will not surrender in defeat nor run from it afraid, but humbly welcome it in. Even if it takes everything away along with me; leaving not a trace.
Artwork: The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai
The lives that have been not just lost but obliterated. The untold mini-dramas going on inside each of those hearts and homes - all washed out to sea with nothing save a moment's notice,
Nothing left to remember those lives by. No records. No word-vomit journals. No lovely artwork. No labours of love left to remember the dead. No gardens. No jewelry. No baby toy. No shamisen.
It's probably not exactly a slow death, nor a quick one. To be shaken out of your self so violently and then upon that realisation only the dawning of an additional impending doom to finally consider your options for survival against the greatest opponent there is - Forces of Nature. At that point I might consider surrender, but it might be that a survival instinct kicks in and I start running for higher ground. Or I might just accept my fate and invite death into my front door screaming its welcome.
I imagine all those scenarios happened and even more that I can't imagine. Reactions could very well have been determined by how one woke from their dreams of the night before. But I'd like to think that when death comes to me I will not surrender in defeat nor run from it afraid, but humbly welcome it in. Even if it takes everything away along with me; leaving not a trace.
15 March 2011
Res - Tsunami
I feel so nice just when you're here
The reason why is not so clear
I knew the first time when you told me
I'd fall in love just as you'd hold me
And now I want to stay at your side tonight
I want to watch you as the sun lights up your eyes
I want to know when you wake first thing you see is me
You're all the things I prayed that I'd meet
Ride, ride this wave of mine
There're brighter things out on the other side
Ride, ride this wave of mine
I know that things are going to be alright
Moments they come and then they go
You'll feel so high and then before you know
I could of sworn our future was set in stone
But I guess some things it's just as well for God to know
So now I concentrate on turning wrong to right
I'm going to let go things I held inside so tight
I'm going to live and let forgive things said in spite
Clear out the smoke and usher in the light
06 March 2011
She
She can't be captured in a photograph
Can't even be captured in a poem
You might catch her in a butterfly net
But before long she'd have to roam.
She is a mystical spirit
An untamed, alchemical child
A daughter of Hieros Gamos
Passion and crisis reconciled.
An ineffable, mercurial being
She glides among the mists of Neptune
In dreams you might chance to see her
In the night quiet of the dark moon.
Treat her well and earn her trust
She'll tell you what you want to know
Remember her with kindly words
When she has to go.
(c) 2011
Artwork: Sprit of Flight by Josephine Wall
Can't even be captured in a poem
You might catch her in a butterfly net
But before long she'd have to roam.
She is a mystical spirit
An untamed, alchemical child
A daughter of Hieros Gamos
Passion and crisis reconciled.
An ineffable, mercurial being
She glides among the mists of Neptune
In dreams you might chance to see her
In the night quiet of the dark moon.
Treat her well and earn her trust
She'll tell you what you want to know
Remember her with kindly words
When she has to go.
(c) 2011
Artwork: Sprit of Flight by Josephine Wall
16 February 2011
Merge
~ written when the Sun was conjunct Neptune
I want to reside inside you
To be the ease in your heart
The laugh in your belly
The ache in your balls
That puts you inside me
Taking me over
and again
Through the ebb and peak
of desire
To kindle the fire
in your spine and mine
Chakras align, arms entwine
I sit straight up in front of you
You go straight through me.
© 16 February 2011
I want to reside inside you
To be the ease in your heart
The laugh in your belly
The ache in your balls
That puts you inside me
Taking me over
and again
Through the ebb and peak
of desire
To kindle the fire
in your spine and mine
Chakras align, arms entwine
I sit straight up in front of you
You go straight through me.
© 16 February 2011
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