Category: poetry

Warming the Egg

You cannot know me
until you know yourself.
If hatred poisons your heart,
you are lost to yourself.
Love is the only salvation.

Those who silence or bind you
Are not your allies.
To the zealots certain of their mission,
You are the serpent circling the Orphic egg—
But I am what will hatch from it.

Muppets…
You cannot remove them.
You can only love them.

I begged the Divine:
Cut the serpent into pieces;
Cast them into the fire;
Prune the vine for all our sakes.
But She whispered:
“Embrace them as yourself—
Only then will you find love.”

It will grow darker now.
The fire must burn hotter.
Then, at last, darkness will swallow all.
No one told me this;
I simply know.

In the void of night,
You will finally see the light.

Fear not, my Muppets:
Though you are fuel to warm the egg,
And our masters wear serpents’ masks,
spring will come.

The whole world rests in my hands.
Eternity is here—
Right now.

Get behind me, serpents.
I am the lion you have feared.
I will tread upon your head.
Your venom has no sting.

Come closer,
curl up by the fire with me.
Let me tell you stories of all you’ve been—
And all you will become.

Certainty, is a trap.
True belief, a plague.
Dodge them as you would death itself.

Asun
Amoon
Amen

The Fool by the Roadside by W.B. Yeats

WHEN all works that have
From cradle run to grave
From grave to cradle run instead;
When thoughts that a fool
Has wound upon a spool
Are but loose thread, are but loose thread;
When cradle and spool are past
And I mere shade at last
Coagulate of stuff
Transparent like the wind,
I think that I may find
A faithful love, a faithful love

”Ars Poetica” by Archibald MacLeish

A poem should be palpable and mute   
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown—

A poem should be wordless   
As the flight of birds.

                        *               

A poem should be motionless in time   
As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,   
Memory by memory the mind—

A poem should be motionless in time   
As the moon climbs.

                        *               

A poem should be equal to:
Not true.

For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea—

A poem should not mean   
But be.

memory

a little bluebird

came to me

and whispered everything

in my ear

but I have forgotten

every whistle and chirp

”Eternity” by William Blake

“He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise”

Mel Brooks said as long as the earth is spinning, we are going to be dizzy and make mistakes, we are unrehearsed.

😂

Whether we like it or not, life will give us an education of the heart.

Some are good students and others not so much.

Nothing in life is worth a damn without love ❤️

It doesn’t matter what you believe, like, at all.

It matters what you do locally, to those who need and love you and to the stranger too.

Actions have consequences.

How much love is in your life?

It’s all that matters to you.

And by you I mean me.

There is no happy ending here, but there is a whole lotta love ❤️

“If you’re quiet, you’re not living. You’ve got to be noisy and colorful and lively.

..

Look, I don’t want to wax philosophic, but I will say that if you’re alive you’ve got to flap your arms and legs, you’ve got to jump around a lot, for life is the very opposite of death.

…

Relax, none of us are getting out of here alive.”

—Mel Brooks

heat

so I cremated

my dad yesterday

it was a good day

drunk dial

i hate you father 
i hate you mother

dad, you were
a lovable bastard

mom, you are
a hateful bitch

do i sound like
i am angry

there is no good
way to clean this shit up

i guess i really hate 
in myself what i hate in you

i inherited your stupidity
your darkness and weakness

forgive me for i know 
not what i do

there were moments 
of sweetness and joy

they shine like starry jewels
amongst all the dark shit

don’t call me again
with your fear mother dear

ding dong 
dad is dead

who will carry
him to his ashy grave

i want to love you
but it’s just too damn much

has love truly
died in me

it will take me time 
to let things go

don’t talk to me
about forgiveness

what happened is done
now we live in the ruins love 

what happens next
no one knows

ruins of love
ruins of love 

forgotten pain 
hidden jewels 

my wounds
are my inheritance

i know that bastards 
tore chunks out of you too

i cannot forgive
but I can forget

time for one more drink…

bum

it’s a good day
when you don’t
put on your pants
‘til noon

decision

in the deliberation

between this and that

a host of demons

comes blazing forth

Blue Waves

We seek assurances

When there are none

Some people tell me I’m easy to love

Some say I’ll never learn

Others are sure I will forever burn

Why is it so hard for me to love myself?

I hear a song of forgiveness and grace when I close my eyes and listen

An invitation to dance beyond self consciousness

To fall back into a deep roiling ocean of thick luscious blue love

Red crackles of light dance and pop over the surface of the whirling curling waves

You can smell sulfur in the air and you can also hear cries of murder and fear as the lightening cracks

Is there a redemption song

Can there be an end to fear?

Is freedom real

Why do we appear

To know what can be known?

To just exist

Or are we just lost in an ocean of nothing

Never to appear again

We must write our own redemption song

Or we will sink into nothingness

And we must sing this song every day and every way we can