there is wonder of all kinds
never boring

beating my wings
moon over life

It is here that I feel!

It's the final leg of the journey . . .

Let's do it again!

Steel your spines,
For the days ahead.
Much damage will
Be inflicted.

For those enchanted hours,
We traveled farther than
Anyone ever could.

Steel your spine,
For the journey is impeded,
It has only slowed.
Life and love will go on.

When we are a child we live in that barefoot moment of fascination.
We run through open-aired spheres of delight unabashed.
We bare our skin to the honey-tones of the sun to be browned
And we allow the moon to powder our skin and face with shimmer.

Then we grow up.

We clothe our bodies, don foot coverings, and shun the rays of the sun and moon.
We fear aging, alter our skin, dye our hair, and ‘Peter Pan’ on.
And when in the pseudo-insanity of an aged body and mind that has seized us, at last,
Let us throw off other people’s expectations.  

That is their problem.

Let us once again live in those barefoot moments, so few now, so precious.
Let us mentally run through open-aired spheres of delight unabashed.
Let us bare our skin to the honey-tones of a healing sun
And allow time to powder our hair with shimmer;

Finally to allow ourselves to eat the fruit of our labors.

When you crawl into a bed of roses
you get up close and personal
with the lovely flowers and their smell,
but you also get scratched, bloodied and torn
by the thorns. It cannot be avoided.
We must let love apply the medicine
and help us heal.

I saw strange things in my dream last night.
A book read that "life is more random than we think.
And, yet it is not so random that we have no control."

A woman (she was random) said to me, "Nothing
In dis life be random."  I guess other than her.
There was a door randomly appearing leading out.

I took it and saw many random things strewn about.
I began picking each one up, turning them in my hand.
"There are so many random aspects to each", I marveled.

Life and sameness are just controlled random abstractions.

Life is bound up in,
As Shakespeare wrote,
A "mortal coil"
- Eternal energy
Loosely bound
Like some cosmic spiral,
Atoms of the ages.

We climb the stars
Make honey in our hearts

Mad as a jackrabbit
We leap into dark holes

Walk among winged creatures
Quiver in our skins

And swear that we can fly
Feather-light on love alone

We climb the stars
Make honey in our hearts
Mad as a jack rabbit
We leap into dark holes
Walk among winged creatures
Quiver in our skins
And swear that we can fly
Feather light on love alone

You don't have to be bad,
Or mad,
Or sad,
To get my attention.

No surrender,
No hidden agenda,
No strings,
No other scary things.

Just say you need me,
Say you need someone to hear you,
Or simply say I'll do.
I'm here, anyway, for you.

I can feel your cello
Through my soul
I am a string

Your bass vibrates through me
Holding me like a treble
We do not rest

Listening

Here is the book that you may choose words from
It is a limited fare
Nine out of ten mythomaniacs are happy with it
For those like you, it'll do

There's a little frog
In the garden beds
Beneath my balcony.
Each morning, he greets
With his peep, peep, peep.
A spoonbill crane,
In its rose-colored cloak,
Swoops down to steal
A tasty meal.
But my little frog
Will sing its morning song,
On and on, still.

The unfortunate things take our Lives.
They storm the castle walls of Living,
And run like hordes throughout Life.
We, at times, are too lazy to Fight.

I just cannot see
Why you won't open to me?
Why put up that wall
When you know that I'm not tall?
Yet, though I am just small
Still, I can see it all
When I get a glimpse
into your wounded heart.

She wanted to wash the man out of her hair
But the scent was too strong and the braid was too tight;

The sun cannot shine from beneath a rock;

So she cut it.

Pretty lips on a pretty boy
But those pretty lips will
Never bring me any joy

Because his lips belong
To his pretty boy-toy
And it rankles me ‘cause

He used to be mine

(This poem is not autobiographical.  It is about someone I used to know.)

What is beauty?  Personality?  Flash?  Flesh?  
Limbs and legs and mounds, the way one is composed?

A nose, a mouth, hair short or long, none at all?
Is beauty the way you came from the womb and grew?

Purity is beauty to some, but others markup their skin,
And it is their beauty, drawn in lines of ink.

Or, can we be beauty personified?  Perhaps in how we love?
I am told that I am attractive, pretty, some say, "Beautiful."

When I am dead and just so much dust or ash,
I don't want my life summed up by a fleshly container.

Please say, "She was a beautiful person in her love."

If you are down and feeling blue,
Then this thought is meant for you.
Always remember . . .

Love can mend the broken

I will build a castle from the rubble of love
And send out invitations on the wings of doves
Encouraging all to come

Come to share in this banquet so richly prepared
Come enjoy joyful gatherings beyond all compare
In this castle that Love has built

Today is our only canvas.
We paint as if with colors
Chosen tenderly, carefully.

Love 'change.'
It can give you
A whole new perspective.

I arrived in the pouring rain,
Still, I don't want to forget
Not one single thing.
How on that radiant day
Hearts throbbed and overflowed.
It is then that we came to know
What it means to love.

Love is
A river
That rages
In stages.
Wanting to be
Free it climbs
Its banks as if
Wanting to see
What is on
Each side.
So comes
Forth the poem
From just
One line
"Time is a river."

Love, it's a beautiful thought.  I find,
However, in my many long years wrought
That love is what you make it.  

It is an animal you ride
And whose spirit you break in its taming.  
Love is what you make it,

It is there for the claiming.
It bucks and throws you off, and yet
With each fall you get up and each time

Climb back onto a more ruled beast
And you, a more seasoned rider.
Love is how you break it.

So, try to enjoy the ride.

Do not judge love by its length.
How long is a piece of string?
Love is not a piece of string.
It is a spool of thread that goes on
Unwinding throughout all eternity.
It is untangling, all encircling for those
Fortunate enough to be entangled by it.

Love can be like watching clouds.
You spot one that makes you smile, and
You feel a little excited at the same time.
You know that it can and will transform
Becoming something more than it is.
And so you watch and wait for something,
You never know what "something" might be.
As you look at changes as it grows and morphs.
But clouds also can and do swiftly fade away.
What was one thing simply becomes nothing or
Changed to something no longer recognizable,
Nor try as you might can you come to understand.
And slowly you remember this truth about clouds:
Clouds are made of water droplets or ice crystals
That floats in the sky; and love is at times mere vapor.

I tried to love someone else
But you were the love of my youth
Your love carried me into adulthood

You gave me your pain to carry
Late night on my blue princess phone
The darkness of your life and war poured out

I gathered it and tried to close the wound
Soothing you when you came to lie beside me
You had had enough of killing, enough warring

I wanted to give you beauty and love
Love enough to bury the skeletons
And to carry your seeds forward into life

She was so crazy she thought
She owned the dawn.

She thought every birdsong
Were sung for her.

The sun's shine,
The moon's glow,

All for her.
You taught her differently.

May my ribbons of passion
Tie you up in pleasures
And bind your heart to mine.

Though we tangle each time
With sweet kisses that toy
With one another's hearts.

Bound through struggle
That knot the ribbons tighter
With each hand, lips, touch

And are fused each to each in the joys of pleasure.

I can feel your sighs.
I can hear the breath coming in
And going out of your chest.

I can hear your heartbeat,
Feel the warmth of your blood
Gushing through dilated veins
Flush with heat.

And I wonder,
Where am I
In the equation?

He is like a cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong

Alternate version:
Mania Munch
He is like a zombie cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong
And then wears the skin, because
He believes he can embody its strength
He drinks from the skulls of his many victims
As he consumes their life's blood
And cares not a modicum, nor understand
Other people's fears, feelings, or lives, for
He is incapable of actual feeling or love
All he can do is feed his many manias
You must have a heart to be human

You broke my heart.
I searched for clover blooms
from which to weave chains
and crowns for the both of us.
But you with your urban sensibilities
Kept the lawn mowed too often.  You,
Hobby-like in your ankle-length socks
Bermuda tangoed, with your mower.
I eventually came under its blades.

Marsh lilies will open only in darkness
And last just a few brief hours in the night.
So, the bees are up early before the light
To drink their fill of the gifts of sweet nectar.
 
Miniscule Thumbelina frogs float on water lily pads
And sleep inside, cradled in sacred blossom beds;
Which bloom, opening with the morning sun
So that each might drink in the sun's sweet rays.

Day begets night, night begets day.
Thumbelina frogs sleep, wake; Marsh &Water lilies bloom
Refreshed with the dripping of heaven and drops of dew.
With each turn of the earth, the cycle starts anew.

Under the burning cranberry sky

I 

Sat and watched
As sherbet, which I so love,

Developed

With its raspberry, orange, fading

Into

Peach.  I want to dip a spoon
In to gather a large bite of

Wonder

I was one thing now I'm another
You touched me deep

I try to peek into what I used to be
But it's been smothered

I gave it a funeral the other day
And I have to say

I bloomed beneath your touch
Felt the spring bouquet was too much

But you wrapped it with a big fat bow
Then you turn to let me know

I love you

And in a breath, I melt away
A new me is here to stay

Because I love you, too

A baby elephant will be tied with a little rope.

It can only go in a small circle, round and round.

Even when grown and able to break that tiny rope

It will not -

Because it is held by the memory of the past.

I want to roll down that grassy hill,
Again in Mississippi bare-footed
In my ‘petticoated’, polka-dotted flouncy dress,
Sashes hanging untied down the back.

And walk through the fragrant gardens
Of brogan wearing old-maid great aunts;
Hiding half-way behind her dress,
Clinging to the wrinkly flesh of my Granny’s arm.

Snakeskin,
Crawled into it and it felt good.
Real good.  Good enough to live in.
Forked tongue slips in and out;
Poison drips, fangs cannot be contained.

Eating all, choking on frogs, going for bigger prey
Until all is gone, gone, gone -
Lining up to pet the snake, feel the skin next to theirs
******* out brains to fill craniums with crap.
And the world has gone mad, bad, and sad.

“If only I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and reside in safety.” Ps. 55:6
Yet, you see my struggles, hear my prayers,
For your mercies never end.

Like the stone that sank into Goliath’s head
Became the turning point of the battle
In the safety of your power, I reside,
For your mercies never end.

And even if my own father
and mother abandon me,
You, yourself, will take me in. Ps. 27:10
For your mercies never end.

I want to see through your eyes,
For you see such beauty.

And you see such when looking at me.
Smoke and mirrors, I say.

You say, "No, I see you every day."
And so, my love,

I want to see through your beautiful eyes,
For you give me precious value as no one else.

And on those wings, alone, I soar.

We are revived
We are made new
We have become
Part of the young
Standing on shoulders
Who stood on the old
Solid foundations
Of so many others
Past and present
We become one
And tower above
Until we can all see

Metamorphosis of all things
Is waiting to be discovered

It is no mystery

You are alive inside
See it with your own eyes

It is no mystery

The time has arrived, yet
In time you will find it was always here

It is no mystery

With the absence of fear
Go be the warrior of dreamers who fight

It is no mystery

You will get it right if you continue to try
That time has arrived for you to bloom

Metamorphosis is no mystery

Back to you,
I will come back to you
If you will come back to me.
And we can meet

In-between.

Somewhere in the middle
Of love with no regret,
And promise to forgive
And to forget.

At times the
Abscess of my mind
Must be drained.
For, yes, at times
I feel quite insane.

Pin to paper,
I must lay down
A lot of stinkers
Before I can write
A masterpiece,

And let the ooze out.

If I acknowledge you,
If I say your unknown name
- For unknowable it remains
Will it honor you in some way?
I stand on this shore looking out, aways
Into oceans vast from where you came.

They took you from your home
Bound into servitude, alone.
- Alone, alone echoes
Friends, family, community, gone.
How can I take you back to your home?
Can I mingle blood, bone with dirt?

My blood and your blood mingle
Could not that ancient soil mingle
- from where you came
Onto these shores which I stand on?
Will it honor you in some way?
Is it enough to make your memory stay?

Or will it too, like you fade away?

What is race?
A construct of bigotry.

I am part Scottish
I am part German
I am part English and more.

I am not ashamed of these.
I am not expected to be
Nor to explain that heritage.

My blood is mixed
With African, with Native American
Why can't I claim it?  Why must I explain it?

Why should I disown any part?
To make you more comfortable?

I must admit, however,
That I am often ashamed
To claim "human."

Here I am standing within this moment.
I feel the echoes of time's tide
Lapping at my feet, washing over me
Reaching the top of my head.
My brain suddenly comprehending
What time actually means to each of us.

I have a monkey on my back!
I pour it into my coffee cup
I give it a sip and a smack.
It is white and dreamy,
Oh, so thick and creamy
And yummy fluffed up.
I simply cannot get enough.
I'm up to at least 2 cartons a week
Do you think they have an Anonymous
For that?

The clouds are thick
and fast-moving tonight.
It makes it look as though
the full round-faced moon is winking.
Quite suddenly it opens wide
its eye then slowly closes it.
Open and shut, open and shut,
winking then blinking,
A flutter of white light
cycling behind the heavy lids
of clouds.

The blue of his eyes swims and mingles in a deep sea of love.
A love that knows no bounds inside my red velvet heart.

How poignant it is to be punctuated with such drama and passion.
A full round moon smiles down watching lovers do what lovers do.

It is made to blush.