Wednesday, July 26, 2017

conundrum throughout creation














In the beginning, there was the goddess, and she created all, everything, above and below and in-between. Except for the things the god created. He rained his fiery sperm down from the heavens into her dark, fertile valleys, and there was life.

Except for the life that was created when he was wounded and his blood spilt on the earth or that stuff created when she split asunder her atomic structure and divided into two beings, the earth and the sky, and they into four: earth, water, fire and air.

And all of these being the exception to that which was created when everything went haywire and nothingness exploded with a big bang, causing the formation of the universe, which is still feeling the effects and expanding, or is it shrinking?

Then there was the time he masturbated into his hand, ingested the output and expectorated children. And the time when her love for the universe was the cause of great consternation in her underground womb and erupted life-giving fires onto the surface from her vagina.

But I digress, my mind was in the gutter...

These two came together, bonded as one and from that union everything emerged. Except, of course, those things that naturally evolved from proteins and acids bonding together in small pools of warm water, over millions and millions of years, step-by-step.

One must mention a worldwide flood at some point, as either man became too wicked to survive, there was a war among the gods, or the crust of the earth shifted over the mantle due to gravitational issues, causing a massive cataclysm.

Of course, one man and his family survived, having been told by god to build an ark and take into it one of every animal and not to worry about the predator/prey combinations or the problem of feces removal.

Whoops, gutter problem again.

His was the only family, except for the pair that survived by strapping themselves to a tree on a high hill. And the one down in what we now call South America who was told to enter the caves. And all the others in their boats. And the ones who were turned to dolphins, etc. Oh, and Atlantis, or Lemuria, which sank beneath the depths.

Then there was the tower we tried to build to reach heaven, where all languages were created to confuse people and to separate us so we'd never become as great as god, although inside us all there is a god, or at least a loa, perhaps a brother-in-loa.

Luckily, today we all believe alike, at least according to the leaders of the United States, that one nation under... something. Something green, I think, and made of paper, or perhaps golden, like a calf...

We all know that church is on Sunday morning and as long as you're there and you've dunked in the name of a Jewish carpenter/stoneworker/last scion of the Davidic line/rabbit/savior, anything you do during the week is up for negotiation. Man, I'm glad the world isn't as complicated today as it once was. Just begs the question...

What would Guan Lin do?

you were made like wildflowers
















You were made like wildflowers, 
yours was an autumn blossom-
an essence of joy on display, 
your sustenance was
every day, life itself
scenting the world with
your simplicity of presence.

You were made like wildflowers, 
yours was a winter to endure-
a trying of the soul, so cold
stood firm in the soil
so bold, never wilting
a portrait of strength
suspending the season of growth.

You were made like wildflowers, 
yours was a summer bouquet-
sprouting up wild in wide pastures
in purple and gold
hue that secures, inspired
a sense of closeness
with the land, the one you loved.

Yours are made like wildflowers, 
You made spring eternal-
burgeoning in mind and heart
unfenced and unbound
as you depart, you lay down
a batch of seedlings, 
to replenish the garden with light.

* * *

Author's Notes: For Aunt Gaddle, aged 102 when she left.


destroyers















Whip-crack! You attack-
your reflexive domination
can't approximate this claim, 
my carnal refutation of
the war-march you drum-
a dire abomination
lacking regret or shame.

This is my sedition
a dish best served in disillusion-
better- a dissolution-
a climactic cataclysm-
yet I’m only one empty cleft, 
the rift is made of millions
cleaving to the rectitude
of national aspirations
you bereft of reality.

I am a pure destroyer
bound to disinfect
your marketplace, 
I’ll employ the
vim of my words, 
my language equals
syllables in riot gear-
That’s all it takes to make
depressions and fearful earthquakes
in the "lands of the free"-
to be read states-
hunkering in bunkers of blue.

Now your fleets are manned
by bitter turncoat mutineers
steering through tsunamis
on the high seas, 
ill-wracked by your foibles
and policies from asinine to austere
perhaps I’m saturnine but I
see horror ‘round the sphere
rains of meteoric nightmare
on a scorching tangent spree
purging ashes forged in disarray
the identity I flee.

You are the pure destroyer
rumbling hellbent and unchecked-
the genesis of climactic cataclysm-
your revelation I reject
and stand stalwart on
solid earth to bear
the beastly wreck this hour-
the collision fate did spawn.

Our retribution is the penalty for
perversion of unhinged power.

Now, attack!

* * *

Author's Notes: Yes, this does relate to my spiritual path as well as my disdain for several political dynasties, as well as current officeholders. Following a warrior path means much more than physically fighting for those who can't, but also using words in protest to join the cause.

Monday, July 17, 2017

retrocausality waltz












That first time we met
I caught myself recalling
The times before, where we kissed
in the sunshine,
And twirled ‘neath the moonlight
in a giddy daze in the sand.
That first time we met
I knew you well, your secrets and
funny little anecdotes
you shared, in the nighttime,
pressed to me, your lips forming
our first hello, at a festival
simultaneous to 
the kiss you give me now.
That first time we met
I knew the nervousness
Trying to invent reasons
that you might stay, 
standing in an entryway,
stammering at beauty.
That first time we met,
a flash of your naked body,
Hair falling about your smile,
your eyes meet mine, our bodies
intertwined in a perfection
like I’ve never known
All in that first time we met-
but I had to hurry,
get to the next destination that I
didn’t realize yet you'd be-
and I miss your smile, your laugh,
your funny little anecdotes, your kisses- 
all the strange magic of them-
they affected me, 
that first time we met,
today.