audio link
Broken yet standing
The form could yet be determined
Pieces lay neatly spread about
Shadows held the vase on the wooden plain
A comforting kiss from afar
Light cast down its caressing warmth
Revealing a dance of dust and spores
The quietness of that solemn hollow
Called out the comforting grace
Of a lilting silent peaceful world
Part of a magnoglia was there displayed
In the absence of music or sound
A song sang to hearts beating close
In silky Softness, unspoken yet profound
The past, present and future
Are well, here, and now.
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Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Sundays - with audio
audio link
I hate Sundays
Sundays - YUCK!
Sundays always
Break my luck
Donkeys bray, and
Chickens cluck
But Sundays kill
Adventure's pluck
Sundays come
And Sundays go
No matter how many
No matter how slow
With enough Sundays
They serve to show
Ever nothing's changed
Never Nothing will
Time now to climb
Back up the hill
Bluster through
The weekly thrill
Till comes Sunday
To break the spell.
I hate Sundays
Sundays - YUCK!
Sundays always
Break my luck
Donkeys bray, and
Chickens cluck
But Sundays kill
Adventure's pluck
Sundays come
And Sundays go
No matter how many
No matter how slow
With enough Sundays
They serve to show
Ever nothing's changed
Never Nothing will
Time now to climb
Back up the hill
Bluster through
The weekly thrill
Till comes Sunday
To break the spell.
Stopped - with audio
audio link
I'm stopped indeed
With nowhere to run
In me grows a seed
That's only just begun
Now in the middle
I find myself caught
To be in that which
I would rather not
Behind the place
Before the end
Round I go
To start again.
I'm stopped indeed
With nowhere to run
In me grows a seed
That's only just begun
Now in the middle
I find myself caught
To be in that which
I would rather not
Behind the place
Before the end
Round I go
To start again.
Shattered / On repairing a Broken World - with audio
audio link
Long, long ago, in ancient times, there came a great shuddering in
the heavens so that the moon and whole celestial host were shaken
and thrown into consternation.
It was then that a frightened Phoebe came upon Atlas and found
him bent over and weeping while kneeling on the ground.
Surrounding him were the broken shards of the world that he had
once carried upon his shoulders. Why are you so distressed my love,
Phoebe asked? For you are no longer burdened with the punishing
task of carrying the world.
Atlas replied, it is as you say, but although I am no longer
betrothed to the slavish endeavor of lifting up the World, I am now
faced with one much greater.
But what could be more difficult than carrying that mighty orb
upon thy shoulders? Phoebe asked again.
Atlas answered, true it is that my task was formidable, but I could
perform it with great skill and pride; indeed it was for this purpose
that my broad shoulders were fashioned by eternity. However, I
cannot, nor is there any here among us, that can refashion the World
once it has been shattered and broken.
Phoebe covered her face and wept for a time with Atlas,
for the bitterness of the truth was more than she could bare.
But Atlas, looking up, his countenance brightened, suddenly
stopped her with these words; it is a bitter concession that we cannot
remedy all losses, answer all questions, know all things, nor can we
regenerate all. But there is hope for us gods yet, because once our
finiteness has been revealed to us, we may then acknowledge what
the philosophers have postulated; that there must be one who is greater,
a Grand Creator of the Cosmos who is Father to us all. In knowing
this we may now seek Him out...
Phoebe broke in before Atlas could finish; and as His children we
free to explore and come to know that which gives life and light to the
Sun, moon, planets, and stars. We can ask Him to help and show the
gods how to repair all that which has been broken.
Armed with this new understanding, not only Phoebe and Atlas, but
all the gods together with the rest of creation were comforted and
the universe found it's spiraling ellipsis once more.
Long, long ago, in ancient times, there came a great shuddering in
the heavens so that the moon and whole celestial host were shaken
and thrown into consternation.
It was then that a frightened Phoebe came upon Atlas and found
him bent over and weeping while kneeling on the ground.
Surrounding him were the broken shards of the world that he had
once carried upon his shoulders. Why are you so distressed my love,
Phoebe asked? For you are no longer burdened with the punishing
task of carrying the world.
Atlas replied, it is as you say, but although I am no longer
betrothed to the slavish endeavor of lifting up the World, I am now
faced with one much greater.
But what could be more difficult than carrying that mighty orb
upon thy shoulders? Phoebe asked again.
Atlas answered, true it is that my task was formidable, but I could
perform it with great skill and pride; indeed it was for this purpose
that my broad shoulders were fashioned by eternity. However, I
cannot, nor is there any here among us, that can refashion the World
once it has been shattered and broken.
Phoebe covered her face and wept for a time with Atlas,
for the bitterness of the truth was more than she could bare.
But Atlas, looking up, his countenance brightened, suddenly
stopped her with these words; it is a bitter concession that we cannot
remedy all losses, answer all questions, know all things, nor can we
regenerate all. But there is hope for us gods yet, because once our
finiteness has been revealed to us, we may then acknowledge what
the philosophers have postulated; that there must be one who is greater,
a Grand Creator of the Cosmos who is Father to us all. In knowing
this we may now seek Him out...
Phoebe broke in before Atlas could finish; and as His children we
free to explore and come to know that which gives life and light to the
Sun, moon, planets, and stars. We can ask Him to help and show the
gods how to repair all that which has been broken.
Armed with this new understanding, not only Phoebe and Atlas, but
all the gods together with the rest of creation were comforted and
the universe found it's spiraling ellipsis once more.
Psalms Chapter 82 תְּהִלִּים
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
How Long - with audio
audio link
How long,
Has it been..
Said the mouse
To the little bird
Since you have flown,
From your nest?
Seems like ages
Said the little bird.
But how long?
Asked the mouse?
In miles,
Maybe a lifetime,
But in time
Perhaps only a mile,
Said the Little bird.
You are perhaps
Just a bit confused?
Said the mouse.
Perplexed yes
Said the little bird
But confused no.
You see time flies
With it spans life.
But the time
And the distance
That I have gone
From my nest
cannot be measured
In those terms.
Who I am
Where I came from,
How I came to be,
My feelings,
Why, these are
All but impressions
That have not
The capacity
Or want
Of being captured
In a net of words,
For that would be
A trap to me.
When the little mouse
Thought about it,
He then realized
That these things
Could only
Be framed,
However meekly,
By the rising
Of the sun
And the change
Of the seasons,
As the winged ones
Fly over things
Made tiny
Below the arc
Of the horizon
In embrace with
The bending heavens above
How long,
Has it been..
Said the mouse
To the little bird
Since you have flown,
From your nest?
Seems like ages
Said the little bird.
But how long?
Asked the mouse?
In miles,
Maybe a lifetime,
But in time
Perhaps only a mile,
Said the Little bird.
You are perhaps
Just a bit confused?
Said the mouse.
Perplexed yes
Said the little bird
But confused no.
You see time flies
With it spans life.
But the time
And the distance
That I have gone
From my nest
cannot be measured
In those terms.
Who I am
Where I came from,
How I came to be,
My feelings,
Why, these are
All but impressions
That have not
The capacity
Or want
Of being captured
In a net of words,
For that would be
A trap to me.
When the little mouse
Thought about it,
He then realized
That these things
Could only
Be framed,
However meekly,
By the rising
Of the sun
And the change
Of the seasons,
As the winged ones
Fly over things
Made tiny
Below the arc
Of the horizon
In embrace with
The bending heavens above
How It Shines - with audio
audio link
Beyond the gates of mediocrity
Past the plains of mere critique
Dwells something more comely than the spring
Evermore so than the pretty petaled blossoms
Caught up in the eyes of innocence
How it shines
Brighter than knowledge
Sweeter than nectar honeyed sun
How it shines
Piercing the heart with flame
O however does it shine
That starburst eternal
From whence comes the welling up of hope
Wrapped in a love so grand
Its lightning would score the soul of all
O Perfect Presence from beyond the cosmos
A radiance that consumes to renew
That which It created in the unknowable
How It shines
The Shadow of His Glory
A casting of His countenance
The palm of His Hand
The light of His I AM
A caring of His am I
In the all that is
How It Shines
Beyond the gates of mediocrity
Past the plains of mere critique
Dwells something more comely than the spring
Evermore so than the pretty petaled blossoms
Caught up in the eyes of innocence
How it shines
Brighter than knowledge
Sweeter than nectar honeyed sun
How it shines
Piercing the heart with flame
O however does it shine
That starburst eternal
From whence comes the welling up of hope
Wrapped in a love so grand
Its lightning would score the soul of all
O Perfect Presence from beyond the cosmos
A radiance that consumes to renew
That which It created in the unknowable
How It shines
The Shadow of His Glory
A casting of His countenance
The palm of His Hand
The light of His I AM
A caring of His am I
In the all that is
How It Shines
Beneath the Sky Above - with audio
audio link
As I sit
Beneath th sky above
Streaming future thoughts
So many debts
So many roads
Not many right
Not many lead home
If home lies within the heart
How do I get the rest of me there
Can I pay the tax on my soul
The fee for my family's lives
Am I locked forever
Beneath the sky above
In an unbreakable circle
Of plebeian servitude
To some other's enjoyment
Is there no meaning left to make
From the creation of heart and hands
When the day is done
Can I only tell
Of how I filled another's storehouse
Of how I never enjoyed
My children in their youth
Because my heart was somewhere else
Looking for a way out of my predicament
No one ever told me
That I had concrete legs
When the race started
Nor did my poor leaden heart
Hear the news
As it tried in vain to fly
A curse on that ungodly thing
That makes one man a slave
To another man's pocket
To that crushing weight
Of life's announcement
That a man may not pass
The place into which he was born
Therefore tear out my heart
Give me one more dull
That dares not hope,
Wish or dream
One that does not
Mind life's cruelties
Nor the stripes
Of death's encroachment
Upon the shores
Of my sleep and awakening
Then shall I no longer
Desire the artist's renaissance
I will jump down
From the rocky climb
To blow bubbles in the mud
With the frogs and turtles
Who do not mind
Their shell and slimy skin
Oh to care not
But to be contented
For it is some kind of evil that
Puts the desire for a flash of brilliance
Within the heart of one who sits
Broken in the shadows of those
Soaring high into the sun.
As I sit
Beneath th sky above
Streaming future thoughts
So many debts
So many roads
Not many right
Not many lead home
If home lies within the heart
How do I get the rest of me there
Can I pay the tax on my soul
The fee for my family's lives
Am I locked forever
Beneath the sky above
In an unbreakable circle
Of plebeian servitude
To some other's enjoyment
Is there no meaning left to make
From the creation of heart and hands
When the day is done
Can I only tell
Of how I filled another's storehouse
Of how I never enjoyed
My children in their youth
Because my heart was somewhere else
Looking for a way out of my predicament
No one ever told me
That I had concrete legs
When the race started
Nor did my poor leaden heart
Hear the news
As it tried in vain to fly
A curse on that ungodly thing
That makes one man a slave
To another man's pocket
To that crushing weight
Of life's announcement
That a man may not pass
The place into which he was born
Therefore tear out my heart
Give me one more dull
That dares not hope,
Wish or dream
One that does not
Mind life's cruelties
Nor the stripes
Of death's encroachment
Upon the shores
Of my sleep and awakening
Then shall I no longer
Desire the artist's renaissance
I will jump down
From the rocky climb
To blow bubbles in the mud
With the frogs and turtles
Who do not mind
Their shell and slimy skin
Oh to care not
But to be contented
For it is some kind of evil that
Puts the desire for a flash of brilliance
Within the heart of one who sits
Broken in the shadows of those
Soaring high into the sun.
The Object - with audio
audio link
There is an object
Spiraling through the heavens
Where it lands is unknown
Many eyes are upon it
Including those of the beholder's
From which it had flown
Troubling, that little thing
Wandering and rounding
So high up in the air
Going onward still
Only slightly beyond
The gravity of care
But the sun grows anxious
So to the clouds begin to brood
Winds grow lacerating and wanton
To effect a change of mood
Exuberant hearts calling
Hands reach out in expectation
Of a hunger to be fulfilled
By the object's trajectory action
From the robin's loving call
To the Jay's so often shrill
Will there come a rainbow
To grace the harrowed hill
O'er the landscape of one below
By the object cast at will
The riddle remains unanswered
For capricious is destiny's will
Secret are the ingredients,
Of her sweet and sour,
Sugar coated pill.
There is an object
Spiraling through the heavens
Where it lands is unknown
Many eyes are upon it
Including those of the beholder's
From which it had flown
Troubling, that little thing
Wandering and rounding
So high up in the air
Going onward still
Only slightly beyond
The gravity of care
But the sun grows anxious
So to the clouds begin to brood
Winds grow lacerating and wanton
To effect a change of mood
Exuberant hearts calling
Hands reach out in expectation
Of a hunger to be fulfilled
By the object's trajectory action
From the robin's loving call
To the Jay's so often shrill
Will there come a rainbow
To grace the harrowed hill
O'er the landscape of one below
By the object cast at will
The riddle remains unanswered
For capricious is destiny's will
Secret are the ingredients,
Of her sweet and sour,
Sugar coated pill.
A Blackbird Visits - with audio
audio link
A Blackbird came to roost today
He called out to an end of play
Laughing, as if to mock the day
The raven cast a windblown shadow
Tipped over was the cup of callow
Rusted tractor, fields gone fallow
Bees find not the pleasant feast
From Faded flowers along the street
Clouds gray oppress the sunny thought
Frozen squalls bring good to naught
Rabbits in meadows, their races started
Now tortoise-like, turn back retarded
Beneath the specter of a hawk
Frantic scurry against the clock
Into hole and into den
So sleep a while there little one
Till radiant glory of the Sun
Breaks through the dewy heavens
And all the clouds have come unspun
With warmth smiling down on the earth again
Blossoming hearts in songs of gentle spring rains
A Blackbird came to roost today
He called out to an end of play
Laughing, as if to mock the day
The raven cast a windblown shadow
Tipped over was the cup of callow
Rusted tractor, fields gone fallow
Bees find not the pleasant feast
From Faded flowers along the street
Clouds gray oppress the sunny thought
Frozen squalls bring good to naught
Rabbits in meadows, their races started
Now tortoise-like, turn back retarded
Beneath the specter of a hawk
Frantic scurry against the clock
Into hole and into den
So sleep a while there little one
Till radiant glory of the Sun
Breaks through the dewy heavens
And all the clouds have come unspun
With warmth smiling down on the earth again
Blossoming hearts in songs of gentle spring rains
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Stephens In The Night - with audio
audio link
Sometimes in the night
I walk the way of Stephens
Under a fleeting moon
There to meet old friends
Who join me in the moment
Some twenty plus years ago
In a spectral gaze I see all at 23
As I struggle to find my way
Faces of teachers speak silent expressions
Up and down the walls and halls of Stephens
A kiss unmet, an invitation lilted, a hand not taken
Endless tests and auditions, words forgotten
In the day I become bald and fat, but in that place
Fields round the grounds aglow in faded grace
There walks a muscled youth with thick brown hair
Also in that place see the starlit eyes of those once fair
Unsure how to engage the willowy memory
I wander on with angst in quiet revere
Then looking down like a bird on those below
As Far away as their embraces are from mine now
Where are those lost in sleep so sweet,
Fairies, sprites, dancers lithe, petite
You clarion singers and mummers follow,
In winged reverberations like hawk and swallow
How is it this night that my flesh has become a shadow
Of a long ago forgotten young and lonely actor
Who like The Flying Dutchman, must return
On a purple cobalt foaming of ocean's churn
With the stars of so many souls once familiar
Away from college town passages provincial
Playhouse, chapel, barn and naked lake
Time's jet streams passing goodbyes spake
Of scurrying possum and hurrying skunk
Beetles and crickets creeping in flora's funk
Now carry this one back from Columbia
To the bewildering hot glow of L A
Among joy and sadness in tumbling flight
Fare Thee Well Till Another Long Deep Night
Sometimes in the night
I walk the way of Stephens
Under a fleeting moon
There to meet old friends
Who join me in the moment
Some twenty plus years ago
In a spectral gaze I see all at 23
As I struggle to find my way
Faces of teachers speak silent expressions
Up and down the walls and halls of Stephens
A kiss unmet, an invitation lilted, a hand not taken
Endless tests and auditions, words forgotten
In the day I become bald and fat, but in that place
Fields round the grounds aglow in faded grace
There walks a muscled youth with thick brown hair
Also in that place see the starlit eyes of those once fair
Unsure how to engage the willowy memory
I wander on with angst in quiet revere
Then looking down like a bird on those below
As Far away as their embraces are from mine now
Where are those lost in sleep so sweet,
Fairies, sprites, dancers lithe, petite
You clarion singers and mummers follow,
In winged reverberations like hawk and swallow
How is it this night that my flesh has become a shadow
Of a long ago forgotten young and lonely actor
Who like The Flying Dutchman, must return
On a purple cobalt foaming of ocean's churn
With the stars of so many souls once familiar
Away from college town passages provincial
Playhouse, chapel, barn and naked lake
Time's jet streams passing goodbyes spake
Of scurrying possum and hurrying skunk
Beetles and crickets creeping in flora's funk
Now carry this one back from Columbia
To the bewildering hot glow of L A
Among joy and sadness in tumbling flight
Fare Thee Well Till Another Long Deep Night
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