audio link
I used to see the colors in my brain
They came to me naturally as the rain
Now they've all turned so very plain
When I look, all shades are blended same
I no longer see the red in pain, and
Wonder can Sunburst joy come again
Responsibilities drive me on
Love for others becomes a singing song
My oh my the day is long
The dark of night vanishes
Invisible when its gone
My hope endures till spring is come
The colors then again are born
In my soul where they belong
Autumn leaves fall to the ground
All the animals know the sound
Of windy breath that turns all brown
Mutes painted prism paradise shown
Fish and birds and butterfly
Each in gentle silence sigh
Till golden sun with starlit dew
Cast rainbow spectrum hues
And so renew.
Poetry Postings.......... Shared Thoughts................................................ Welcome All !
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Monday, April 19, 2010
Critique of the Critics - with audio
audio link
I hereby disclose
That I would close
The door of who knows
Set the locks
Hide prejudicial picks
Stow Electric shocks
Critique the critics
Because to tell
Would bring such hell
From those sounds
Of the death knell
An illustration
In psychotic palpitation
Hispaniola, Anatolia
Africa and Asia
Anhedonia and Amnesia
PTSD, and PDO
MDD, to hospital go
So the cats walk
The feline kind of talk
On fence and wall
Of each black way hall
Till out flies tall
The Starling's urgent call
To stay deep sea spouts
Motions of notions and
Stop the deluge pouring out
Flooding oceans of shouts
From mercury filled mandibles
Of would be rescuing mouths.
I hereby disclose
That I would close
The door of who knows
Set the locks
Hide prejudicial picks
Stow Electric shocks
Critique the critics
Because to tell
Would bring such hell
From those sounds
Of the death knell
An illustration
In psychotic palpitation
Hispaniola, Anatolia
Africa and Asia
Anhedonia and Amnesia
PTSD, and PDO
MDD, to hospital go
So the cats walk
The feline kind of talk
On fence and wall
Of each black way hall
Till out flies tall
The Starling's urgent call
To stay deep sea spouts
Motions of notions and
Stop the deluge pouring out
Flooding oceans of shouts
From mercury filled mandibles
Of would be rescuing mouths.
Sorting Sand? - with audio
audio link
Picking slim
Lighting dim
Barren plains
Calculating minds
See the path
Check the math
Ask questions
For gestation
Not the why
Here am I
Think so
Bon ami
The what if
Makes stiff
How so
Won't go
To complicate
But Extricate
Regulate
And validate
Round corner
Behind the chase
New beginner
Slowed pace
Or perhaps
Pops and snaps
Machina view
Is it new
What a doll
A confused soul
That's his plan...
Sorting sand?
Picking slim
Lighting dim
Barren plains
Calculating minds
See the path
Check the math
Ask questions
For gestation
Not the why
Here am I
Think so
Bon ami
The what if
Makes stiff
How so
Won't go
To complicate
But Extricate
Regulate
And validate
Round corner
Behind the chase
New beginner
Slowed pace
Or perhaps
Pops and snaps
Machina view
Is it new
What a doll
A confused soul
That's his plan...
Sorting sand?
Morning Meeting, Donut's Dunk - with audio
audio link
Connect the colored dots
Ye little dullards and sots
Worker bees are smallest
The trees are the forest
That must needs be seen
Plastic pawns now begin
Hoping furtively that they,
You see, might know well
Of your prowess, that to tell
Oh to show that scribbled junk
The chaos in your little trunk
Be sweeter than a donut's dunk
So you posture and pose
Then thumb your bumpy nose
From concrete and brick
To fluid stream quick?
Embarrassed not, it's supposed
In your abstract lederhose
Stir up the thick jello'd sully
Focus now ever more forcefully
Struggle through the sudden strain
Of that broken puddin headed brain
Blow out the porthole a cloud-like steam
Some pseudo-intellectual babbling scream
But the attention once gotten
Sordid Horded and brought in
Goes like geese flying south
In the cold of winter's mouth
And it really stunts one's growth
So do not hurry to curry the boss
For little is gained, and much is lost
At such a tawdry, onerous, provocative cost.
Chasing Rabbits, Self Deluded Competition in the Workplace - with audio
audio link
The Climbers ascended
Mountains of words
Struggling for control
Of the tiger wind
Like woodland creatures
Fleeing fire
Chasing rabbits
Through field and bush
Clamoring over one another
Seeking the surety
Of an imagined secure footing
Or transient idyllic conquest
The headless leader watched
And would have nodded in approval
Had he a mind to do so
His Faceless gaze and smile
Focused forward
Content to march
Behind the horses
A lemming of enlightened bliss.
The Climbers ascended
Mountains of words
Struggling for control
Of the tiger wind
Like woodland creatures
Fleeing fire
Chasing rabbits
Through field and bush
Clamoring over one another
Seeking the surety
Of an imagined secure footing
Or transient idyllic conquest
The headless leader watched
And would have nodded in approval
Had he a mind to do so
His Faceless gaze and smile
Focused forward
Content to march
Behind the horses
A lemming of enlightened bliss.
Love Eclipses Ambition - with audio
audio link
I saw then,
What I thought
In meaning and ambition
Made ascriptions clear
Until another's
Reality sense
Broke in
To eclipse the sun
Of my clarion view
I waited for it to happen
But it never did
Something else
More wonderful instead
Grew in the place
Of that which was dead
Behind the landscape
That I had painted
Arose a sky in broad expanse
Three faces full of hope and life
Together with
The hand of another,
Who caressed our being
Their brightness
Informs my view, and
As I gaze at them
Heaven is made new
When gravity swift
Pulls me down
They my soul uplift
Til the day come
When we all
With a Dove
Shall fly
High Above
Through the heavens
To a place
In The Way
Of His Majesty
And still greater Love.
I saw then,
What I thought
In meaning and ambition
Made ascriptions clear
Until another's
Reality sense
Broke in
To eclipse the sun
Of my clarion view
I waited for it to happen
But it never did
Something else
More wonderful instead
Grew in the place
Of that which was dead
Behind the landscape
That I had painted
Arose a sky in broad expanse
Three faces full of hope and life
Together with
The hand of another,
Who caressed our being
Their brightness
Informs my view, and
As I gaze at them
Heaven is made new
When gravity swift
Pulls me down
They my soul uplift
Til the day come
When we all
With a Dove
Shall fly
High Above
Through the heavens
To a place
In The Way
Of His Majesty
And still greater Love.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Bureaucrazy - with audio
audio link
She said
He said
Hello
I don't know
Well I do
Who do
They do
The Do Do
Bird Flew
Killed inner child
When head notes
Mental and pedo-filed
Out their mouths
Came conjecturing
Everything was soused
Flooded Moreover
With heretofore
And Next thereof
All is come
That must be done
Now lies prone
Hence useless
This morass
Don't talk,
Or be an ass
Just baste and bask
So ask, please
Control the dis-ease
OK, OK
She said
Then went on
That talking head
It put me
Right back
In my bed
Because the pain
Eyes saw red
Deathly gain
Is the freedom
Of abused authority
A new problem
Over and over
Bore the brain
Soul and liver
A hole to drain
Pour in a river
Of false beliefs
Politicized nonsensical
Non-science's release
Kick one's self
More forms legal
To fill a shelf
Redundant commas
Bureaucracy commissions
Addendums callous
Onto Infinite revisions.
She said
He said
Hello
I don't know
Well I do
Who do
They do
The Do Do
Bird Flew
Killed inner child
When head notes
Mental and pedo-filed
Out their mouths
Came conjecturing
Everything was soused
Flooded Moreover
With heretofore
And Next thereof
All is come
That must be done
Now lies prone
Hence useless
This morass
Don't talk,
Or be an ass
Just baste and bask
So ask, please
Control the dis-ease
OK, OK
She said
Then went on
That talking head
It put me
Right back
In my bed
Because the pain
Eyes saw red
Deathly gain
Is the freedom
Of abused authority
A new problem
Over and over
Bore the brain
Soul and liver
A hole to drain
Pour in a river
Of false beliefs
Politicized nonsensical
Non-science's release
Kick one's self
More forms legal
To fill a shelf
Redundant commas
Bureaucracy commissions
Addendums callous
Onto Infinite revisions.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Locusts in the Sycamores - with audio
audio link
It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon when I heard them.
Locusts, 7 yr locusts were sounding their life in the Sycamores, Maples and Aspens.
They had come early, for this was only August and not yet past the afternoon.
I remembered how they told of the coming of evening and eventually winter, Long ago, when I was a little boy at play. I would feel the sadness come over me. I knew that it was the end of Summer, the beginning of Autumn, the coming of Winter. I did not understand why this should affect me so. The passage of time meant nothing to me then. It did however, to the subconscious clock within me; that which communed with the eternal.
The locusts announced; "another time and era are passing, never to come again."
Once I was old enough to go to school, the locusts warned that it was time to come in from play, get ready for bed; and in the morning go to school. That which flourished in play with friends, died in school. Now, every time those cicadas with their cousins the locusts called out, it was like Sunday night before school and the end of summer all over again. The feeling ran deep within my being like hot brown molasses in a slow sinking procession down each bone.
It was an omen. Winter was coming early and it would be a long, cold, dark presence this year. My mind flashed back to brief moments of months before. Looking down each morning while picking up the newspaper, I would encounter an array of ants working furiously at their endeavor of survival. Marching every day or evening without fail across my sidewalk, from one Juniper to the next, they were there. Then, the prophet Solomon's words came to mind: " Observe the ant....." Prepare for the future without ceasing, and in the meantime be content in your sweaty toil; as well in your eating and sleeping. Why? Because Winter is coming.
Well, this year it was coming early. The signs were called out; the ants in tiny somber marching, and the locusts in eerie clicking song. Even the leaves had prematurely begun to fall.
Mother had been in the hospital on and off for the past 5 years. Dad as well. He was only a shadow of the man I knew growing up. The man who had once right crossed and knocked down a burly bearded fireman with tattoos who was refusing to help put out a burning building. A police dog had stopped him from continuing to pummel that sot. The maladies of age had shaken him, weakened his heart, taken away the pleasure of walking, and narrowed his sight. Mother on the other hand,
had undergone the hand of time with multiple and sundry plagues common to our generation.
She had also lost the thrill of allure and clever wit that had once brought Dr.s, Surgeons, Lawyers, Publishers and Poets to the cocktail parties and dinners that were hosted in our home. Life had now become a matter of complaint, she also had been robbed of the simpler pleasures of walking, eating and the enjoyment of company.
Autumn is here, Winter is coming whispered the locusts in the Sycamores. And suddenly, a finger loomed up within me, pointing me back to Solomon, " All is but vanity and a chasing of the wind."
All of this wonderment is passing...... , fleeting.........., flying away, and I also along with it. Mortality will one day come to call with its capital expression. I like Scrooge joined the community of humbuggeries and naysayers to its proposition. ...In confusion, I stumbled about, not focussing, hiding in my mind, lest feelings and emotion should overtake me ......I felt dizzy at times.
My Parents lay in their beds most of the day, living and participating in life through CNN,
"Little House on the Prairie,"and pharmaceutical commercials on TV. Slumber followed only to be interrupted by the habit of meals and ablutions. The wind was blowing the leaves right off the Maples. It carried along the chorus of wings in the trees; Winter is coming, Autumn is here. They weren't supposed to be here yet. They'd come early. It would be a long hard unpredictable Winter. The kind that makes a man's heart lonely and searching. The kind of cold that causes one to seek out the reassuring warmth of a few close friends. The kind of white blanketing in the night that propels all souls toward the Almighty Eternal. Let it blow then; like a dog, let the wind lick up these tears before they fall.
A clanging silence, a rigid river of dancing contradiction that flashes in a flurry before the eye of the soul; the pintele - (the spark of life) - threatened at once by the coming flood. Like lightning giving birth to thunder, shouts out the rainfall, so to the ants, with the buzzing of wings, and the crossing of tiny legs told the leaves to fall. And, as the leaves rushed along, they seemed to rustle out the message; the Autumn is here, the Winter is near....
And come it must! For this has been the way til now; ordained for each one to tarry an allotted time until the next season is ushered in, even as the one that is, passes over the falls into the Mind of timeless forgotten eternity.
It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon when I heard them.
Locusts, 7 yr locusts were sounding their life in the Sycamores, Maples and Aspens.
They had come early, for this was only August and not yet past the afternoon.
I remembered how they told of the coming of evening and eventually winter, Long ago, when I was a little boy at play. I would feel the sadness come over me. I knew that it was the end of Summer, the beginning of Autumn, the coming of Winter. I did not understand why this should affect me so. The passage of time meant nothing to me then. It did however, to the subconscious clock within me; that which communed with the eternal.
The locusts announced; "another time and era are passing, never to come again."
Once I was old enough to go to school, the locusts warned that it was time to come in from play, get ready for bed; and in the morning go to school. That which flourished in play with friends, died in school. Now, every time those cicadas with their cousins the locusts called out, it was like Sunday night before school and the end of summer all over again. The feeling ran deep within my being like hot brown molasses in a slow sinking procession down each bone.
It was an omen. Winter was coming early and it would be a long, cold, dark presence this year. My mind flashed back to brief moments of months before. Looking down each morning while picking up the newspaper, I would encounter an array of ants working furiously at their endeavor of survival. Marching every day or evening without fail across my sidewalk, from one Juniper to the next, they were there. Then, the prophet Solomon's words came to mind: " Observe the ant....." Prepare for the future without ceasing, and in the meantime be content in your sweaty toil; as well in your eating and sleeping. Why? Because Winter is coming.
Well, this year it was coming early. The signs were called out; the ants in tiny somber marching, and the locusts in eerie clicking song. Even the leaves had prematurely begun to fall.
Mother had been in the hospital on and off for the past 5 years. Dad as well. He was only a shadow of the man I knew growing up. The man who had once right crossed and knocked down a burly bearded fireman with tattoos who was refusing to help put out a burning building. A police dog had stopped him from continuing to pummel that sot. The maladies of age had shaken him, weakened his heart, taken away the pleasure of walking, and narrowed his sight. Mother on the other hand,
had undergone the hand of time with multiple and sundry plagues common to our generation.
She had also lost the thrill of allure and clever wit that had once brought Dr.s, Surgeons, Lawyers, Publishers and Poets to the cocktail parties and dinners that were hosted in our home. Life had now become a matter of complaint, she also had been robbed of the simpler pleasures of walking, eating and the enjoyment of company.
Autumn is here, Winter is coming whispered the locusts in the Sycamores. And suddenly, a finger loomed up within me, pointing me back to Solomon, " All is but vanity and a chasing of the wind."
All of this wonderment is passing...... , fleeting.........., flying away, and I also along with it. Mortality will one day come to call with its capital expression. I like Scrooge joined the community of humbuggeries and naysayers to its proposition. ...In confusion, I stumbled about, not focussing, hiding in my mind, lest feelings and emotion should overtake me ......I felt dizzy at times.
My Parents lay in their beds most of the day, living and participating in life through CNN,
"Little House on the Prairie,"and pharmaceutical commercials on TV. Slumber followed only to be interrupted by the habit of meals and ablutions. The wind was blowing the leaves right off the Maples. It carried along the chorus of wings in the trees; Winter is coming, Autumn is here. They weren't supposed to be here yet. They'd come early. It would be a long hard unpredictable Winter. The kind that makes a man's heart lonely and searching. The kind of cold that causes one to seek out the reassuring warmth of a few close friends. The kind of white blanketing in the night that propels all souls toward the Almighty Eternal. Let it blow then; like a dog, let the wind lick up these tears before they fall.
A clanging silence, a rigid river of dancing contradiction that flashes in a flurry before the eye of the soul; the pintele - (the spark of life) - threatened at once by the coming flood. Like lightning giving birth to thunder, shouts out the rainfall, so to the ants, with the buzzing of wings, and the crossing of tiny legs told the leaves to fall. And, as the leaves rushed along, they seemed to rustle out the message; the Autumn is here, the Winter is near....
And come it must! For this has been the way til now; ordained for each one to tarry an allotted time until the next season is ushered in, even as the one that is, passes over the falls into the Mind of timeless forgotten eternity.
Next - with audio
audio link
That which yearns to be
Is now becoming
A pill in hand
An herbal elixir
Raise the titanic
Now I wait
On speeding train
Against the tunnel facade
In thickening tension
Of foggy pre-game morning
Till black starting gun
In Screaming force
Sends Shot unyielding
A Falling outcome
Looks back aghast
With sudden shock
The former shell
Lies broken.
That which yearns to be
Is now becoming
A pill in hand
An herbal elixir
Raise the titanic
Now I wait
On speeding train
Against the tunnel facade
In thickening tension
Of foggy pre-game morning
Till black starting gun
In Screaming force
Sends Shot unyielding
A Falling outcome
Looks back aghast
With sudden shock
The former shell
Lies broken.
Over Jagged Peaks - with audio
audio link
The arrows shot well
So long ago remain
With those of today
Find their mark in
Black blue shades of pain
But this is life
To live in this skin
Not to fear of
Worry's cutting knife
But thankful for love
Family and wife
To God above
Focus on these
Instead of bigger toys
Nay, be at peace
Carried on by lighter joys
Thus like the sun speaks
I rise up again
Over jagged peaks
In flowing skies
With fluid tern
Till my Creator
Shall lay me down.
The arrows shot well
So long ago remain
With those of today
Find their mark in
Black blue shades of pain
But this is life
To live in this skin
Not to fear of
Worry's cutting knife
But thankful for love
Family and wife
To God above
Focus on these
Instead of bigger toys
Nay, be at peace
Carried on by lighter joys
Thus like the sun speaks
I rise up again
Over jagged peaks
In flowing skies
With fluid tern
Till my Creator
Shall lay me down.
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