POETRY

Driftwood & Bones

We are left
We are left here Alone
Driftwood & Bones
Driftwood & Bones.

We begin
We begin with a Song
We’ve Known All along
That Right smells better than Wrong
We know who we are
deep in the body of our
Internal Guitar
We begin with a song
The same one that’s been Playing
All Along.

We all smell the Same
Deep at the source of our Internal Flame
That baby inside cares not
about who wins the Hockey Game
It’s good to become Wood
and dry out in the Sun
in the Weather that comes & goes
and the Tides that come undone.

Dinosaur Bones become old and wise
as they witness the Tides, the Angels, the Skies
they sit and wait
for you to return
they will warn you
and warm you
disarm you and charm you
remind you of the one ancient fire
that Burns.

Star / You / Are

you are dancing in the stars
you are not far
you are near
you are dear
you are here
you dance
the dance
dances itself
dance

life is giving
wakefulness sojourn joyful butterfly
cast the sweetness
to the net to the sand to the bright sky
to the birds in your lovely eye
your lovely eye

i am here
i am always
you know
you know this
know this only
this is only what you know
this is only
this is
this

The Eternal Moment

There are Bowls
There are Drawers here
There are Hidden Shapes & Accessories

There are Small Kingdoms in Passing Moments
There is a Treasury of Doubt
and the Currency of the Inner Smile

There is Me Here
and there is You.

You: The one I have lost & found,
lost and found, lost & found.

Me: the one who stands
on Solid Ground
and spins around
and around
and around.

And then, there is the Sound.
The sound of Naked Waterfalls
filled with Diamonds of the Sun.
The sound that bubbles up
from deep inside the Ground.
The Hum of a Million Birds
The Stampede of the Butterflies of the Heart.

All is Sudden.
All is Changing.
The Ancient takes constant Birth
in the Soft Glove
of the Eternal Moment.

The Company of Truth

I seek The Company of Truth.

In this Lifetime, this space,
this Tiny Bubble I occupy.

I have long-known The Company of Truth:
the Color of their Eyes, the Clothing they wear;
the lack of Disguise.

The Company of Truth is the blessing of sharing time
with those who know, those who have walked
the path of Inner Freedom
amidst Outer Struggle;

Those who have crossed the threshold of the Open Heart,
and who celebrate the Beauty of Living
the consciousness of This Silent Glorious Song.

This is not trivial;
This is not the Popular Path of Lemmings;
this is not the Calling of Convenience,
the Temple of Day-to-Day Commerce,
the Sacrament of Obligation
to those who pull our Every String …

This is Monumental.
This is the Unconstructed Tower of the Spirit Of You.
This is the Fragile Sprout of your Innermost Core:
seeking maturity to Flower, To Vine, To Tree,
to Seed: to spread Abundance in the Wind,
Dandelion Birds soaring to unspoken Heights.

Unhinged.

The Company Of Truth is a Gift.
From one eye to another.  From heart to heart.
From empty caverns flow the Voices of Full Rivers.

From need, from Necessity,
from the Sincere Longing
to Know Home
to Go Home…
comes the Journey Itself.
The Map.
The Vehicle.
Driver & Destination.

The Company Of Truth
is Truth Itself.
Revealed in the Glorious Form
of Humans …
Being …
Rainbows ….

We Ride in the Rain

We Ride in the Rain.

We are happy, we seldom complain.
Something about moving, the quenching,
the drenching, the Softness of Nature’s Hand
on our parched linens.

The Gladness of Man
the moving of the Seasons,
the Ancient Rhythm of commerce,
the Hum of the Marketplace Mantra.

Aromas of Humanity sustain us
as we move sideways, vertically
frantically, erratically, measuring carefully
our pace, our dance, our stance.

We Ride in the Rain.

Love captures us once again.
From old withered hearts,
parades of Color will start;

and who knows the Art?

Sitting in the Saddle
of the Smile of Krishna
the Benediction of Buddha
the Mercy of Christ
the Wisdom of Allah

We live for the Color of Love.

the Season of the Dove.

the Warm soft hand of God

inside our Velvet Glove.

Eye Passing, Life Catching

The Precious Moments of Life are Slipping By
It is noon, it is midnight, it is an Orange color moving through the Sky
Pets are fed, Rumi is Dead, mother has baked another Perfect Apple Pie
The Dogs on the Sled, the nuns in the Bed: all perform effortlessly as they
look in my Eye … And Life keeps Passing relentlessly by.

The Precious Moments of Life are Moving On
The Trains, Planes and Cargoes are catapulted through the Orange Colors of Dawn
Mystery Speaks; Ghosts in the Closet Squeak; Neighbors on acid Freak …
and Dead Poets, Live Lemmings, Drunk Singers and Retarded Swingers
all Dance in Synchrony, as they look in my Eye
… And Life keeps Passing Relentlessly by.

The Sad & Happy Moments of Life are Departing
Like a Drunken Missionary, embarrassed by his own Farting
They Walk out the Door, They look relaxed and Sore,
They claim to all Know the Score (of Hockey Games to Come)
In God’s Kingdom On The Run; in Buttered Club Med in the Sun
… As Life gazes Lovingly in my Eye and relentlessly passes on By.

The Family Tree is Bearing the Fruit of Ecstasy
Relatives living and dead, lost uncles buried in my head
Aunt Jemima’s bejeweled vagina and Cousin Leroy’s recurring Angina
And the long sullen list of Februaries missed and Octobers’ Toenails Kissed
We’re all waiting in the Shooting Gallery of Love,
for the Silent Soldier with the Pearly Glove
to pull that Trigger – we figure – that will lift us all Above.
… And the tears roll out from the Elephant’s eye
as Rivers flow on … and Life Passes by.