For Tove Lo and Charles Bukowski (and all those climbing Desolation Peak)
 
Lost in the maze,
Drifting through a purple haze,
Harried by an alcoholic daze,
Stumbling through an arduous phase,
Where bleary eyed shots,
Become empty bottles,
And empty bottles become empty years,
Full of empty fears,
That grip the soul,
Shots piercing it full of holes,
Attaining empty goals,
Where dreams become nightmares,
Where nightmares become tempests,
Raging through our world,
Tearing up our lives, unfurled,
Playing with that silver bullet,
Russian roulette, finger on the trigger,
Wond'ring if one should pull it,
Standing there, hand shaking,
Kneeling there, body quaking,
Kneeling there, before the alter,
Collapsing there, as one fails and falters,
Drifting into never never land,
Thinking it is forever land,
Nothing grand about it,
Hard to turn around without it,
Wanting to stand and shout it,
"Leave me devil!"
"Leave me!" in all that revel,
Hoping to see the light again,
Knowing deep down one must fight again,
To simply stand, perhaps with some Samaritans hand,
Helping one up, guiding one through the maze,
Urging one through the purple haze,
If luck has it, nights become days,
If fortune gives it,
We find safe passage,
Through this fluid phase,
Where darkness envelopes one's soul,
Where lightning strikes and burns a hole,
In one's very mind, in one's hapless life,
Where night visions become nightmares, become rife,
With demons pulling to and fro,
Where triggers are pulled, fast and slow,
Where life becomes a blur,
Where thought becomes a slur,
Where awake is plagued by incessant burrs,
Where one walks, but is never sure,
When the silver bullet will be fired,
When one will fall for ever, beaten and tired,
Into that empty, endless pit,
Into that putrid, stinking shit,
Where shots were poured on a bar,
Where bottles were emptied near and far,
Life becomes so unclear,
Sober is nothing less than pain and fear,
With the Reaper knocking on the door,
With empty thoughts beside us,
On that filthy floor.
What more? Is there, can there be more?
Perhaps a light reflecting,
On some distant, far off shore,
Where a bottle washes up,
With a message,
That a coconut is to be eaten,
Not used as a Daiquiri cup,
But once we've been shot to death,
Once we lie in a broken heap,
So terribly drunk and so beaten,
Russian roulette becomes the daily game,
Bottles become bullets that mark the same,
So in that stead, the Reaper sits beside one,
Holding yet another loaded gun,
Full of shots, so many more, so often lots,
Losing one in that confusing maze,
Leading one into that purple haze,
Enslaving one in that endless drinking phase,
Where life becomes darkness,
Where darkness steals away the light,
Where light is shaded by incessant shadows,
Where dark shadows keep one shackled,
Imprisoned by that alcoholic plight.

Your eyes! I stare into those deep dark eyes!
Your eyes and smile, captured my heart,
That smile of yours, makes me realize,
Makes me never want to be apart,
Apart from your gaze, apart from your smile,
Makes me need you more than ever,
Your face, makes me want your magic style,
That magic style, makes you look so awfully clever,
Your heart, your loving arms that break my heart,
Make me want you, even though we're so far apart,
Your diamond smile and my bleeding heart,
Makes me need to feed my hungry heart,
With your love, and your smile, with your eyes,
Your deep dark eyes, strip away my fake disguise.
What is love, without compassion?
Nothing less than shallow, in such shallow fashion.
What is love, when frigid stares compete?
Without hot passion, love will never be complete.
So give me your love, I want your compassion,
I need your love, show me your passion.
What is love, without your smile?
I need your smile, I want your arms,
I need your heart, I want your charms.
It was some fantasy that took me there,
Some lack of love that made me wander,
A sense of magic, your heart, let me care,
Some fantasy, flung my heart, into your heart's blue yonder.
Your eyes! I look into those deep dark eyes,
Your eyes and smile, captured my heart,
That smile of yours, makes me realize,
Makes me realize, I never want to be apart,
Apart from your gaze, apart from your smile,
Makes me want you more than ever,
Your dress, makes me love your magic style,
Your sexy dress, makes you look so awfully clever,
Your loving crush, that squeezed my heart,
Your loving squeeze, that broke me apart,
Makes me need to mend my broken heart,
Makes me need you, even though we're so far apart.
This is where night falls,
Where love goes astray,
When the hoot owl calls,
As darkness casts its magic song,
Before long, lost hope drifts away.
Slipping over love's waterfall edge,
Falling, plummeting, love cascades,
Dire feelings that love terrors dredge,
Awash with honest grief, as  dishonest love invades.
Your eyes! I'm lost in those sea green eyes,
Your eyes and ocean smile, pirated my cast off heart,
That ocean of yours, makes me realize,
Makes me see we're so far apart,
Apart from your eyes, apart from your smile,
Still I need you more than ever,
Apart from your face, apart from your style,
Your deep dark clever, those deep dark eyes,
They strip away love's false disguise.
This is where night falls,
Where love goes astray,
When witchcraft calls,
As darkness conjures magic play,
Before long, lost love simply drifts away.
I drift away, lost in your eyes, lost in your smile,
Lost in your deep blue magic, so all the while,
Drifting out to sea, without you in my arms,
Without your heart, without your charms,
Without your love, stricken with my bleeding heart,
I'm all alone, on that ocean, keeping us so far apart,
I'm cast away, far across that deep dark ocean,
I'm lost at sea, in deep dark love's emotion,
I'm starving, for your deep dark eyes,
I'm thirsting, for your deep dark heart,
I'm praying, to see you without your disguise,
I wish we were together, and not so far apart.
And those eyes, your eyes that stare,
Far beyond that place, where I have gone,
And your arms, caress that place, while no one's there,
Invade that place, where love was done,
Your smile, taunts that space, where apart has won.

November's done, a lonely sum of Gitchigumie's tears,
Full Hunter moon beamed bright, frosty nights arrived,
Earnest winter now, shrouded by those snowdrift fears,
Shrewdly forsaking mosaic autumn, so readily contrived,
Fragile snowflakes dance and tumble, in this polar season,
Big antlered bucks, fat with summer wealth and felt,
Delighting senses, imploring arctic wintry reason,
Entreating starry nights, visions encompassed by Orion's belt,
Come winter's icy spirit, welcome Gitchigumie's winter season.
Sleepy cold, garnishing hearty hospitality, content by one's glowing fire,
December, still richly sleek with winter fat, drivers pelted by a salty splat,
Roaring snow plow trucks, compound winter parking, with snow attire,
Relish warmth near one's happy hearth, toasting St. Nick in his pompom hat.
Stellar tracks 'cross northern skies, wave so long to autumn's falling reason,
Far to the south saguaro stand statuesque, armed in prickly desert guise,
Orchestral horns trumpet winter rhymes, far to the frozen north,
Shun all thoughts of thirst and hunger, though arid desert lies,
Beneath a placid sea of circling stars, portend destiny for all life's worth,
Goodbye to November's drear and gray,
Wave farewell to autumn's falling reason,
Perfect snow staged for this December play,
Welcome now, Gitchigumie's winter season.
Bright shining stars, oh how God's majestic cosmos makes us feel,
Blessed forest spirit, dreaming Turtle Island's snow covered lakes,
Drifting silent through the universe, true north gripped by winter steel,
Abreast of Gitchigumie's blazing heart, akin with winter's snowy flakes.

Once upon a time, as Buddha doth know, so many tragic years ago,
Slowly shuffling up that stony trail, towards Golgotha's echoed crest,
Churning gritty morn, when purity was curtly thrust into a horrid throe,
Dangling thieves seemed redeemed, thus enabled, promised heaven's rest.

Soul food so lovingly laid, on God's empiric table,
Mellowed milk and honey, in a far east Shepherd's stable,
Good seed, sweet fruit imparted freely, as peasants then were able,
Angel voice accosts the blazing star, like some Saga's mythic fable.

Time passed slowly, with each measured step in kind,
Up that rocky path, toward Golgotha's anxious height,
Women clad like pillars, in black garments head to toe, quietly walked behind,
Armoured soldiers blasphemed on Golgotha's zenith, to prove their worldly might.

Pure water, rushing from its sacred source,
Spring water, gushing, vowing blessed untold life,
Delivers Nirvana's manna, destined by a spiritual course,
All life shall witness, as Divine renounces corrupted strife.

Up that desecrated hill, I floundered on that besieged morn,
Cautious steps ahead, convicted men hung nailed, enslaved upon their tree,
Crucifixion trumpeting, hail Roman law, blowing Caesar's triumphant horn,
Spears crossed with swords, upon that place where sovereign sets men free.

Stars shine free, resolving grand mystery, in Creation's crystal night,
Galaxies spiraling, adorning Universe, beyond a Master's solar realm,
Heaven's dome, gems and diamonds sparkling bright, jeweled glyphs all alight,
Kingdom come, enlightened Sage and Captain stand steady, ready at the helm.

Higher trudged that sorry gallery, clutching stressful hems, in morn's vacant light,
Towards the groan of that sad day, God moaned, reverent tears spilled down,
Merciless talons hammered home, flesh and bone gave way, tensions ever tight,
Prayers were mumbled, by those so humbled, before that dawning crown.

Far across the ocean, my gaze was fixed on a mythic stone,
Sunrise shone across an arid land, as spent warriors did atone,
Volcanoes belched their acrid smoke, from a fiery stoic cone,
Birds of Paradise flexed 'round a sacred tree, not one danced alone.

Stumbling upward, gravity pulling hard, down to the petrous ground,
Besotted, trudging, treading onward, towards that acrid summit,
Black birds forlornly soaring, crying, high above those helpless bound,
Storm clouds formed o'er distant craggy hills, while my very soul did plummet.

Deep in the mystic sea, a hermit's cave exists,
Far below the waves, apart from human clemency,
Beyond the throne of kings or queens, blend ether mists,
Divinity exacts a promised land, diverged with love's discrepancy.

Once, a long time past, all that former detritus dead and buried,
Golgotha's might pulled me down, tripped me up, made me fall,
Cries, painful rent upon that stony littered knob, death seldom hurried,
Dreams so spent, often lost, such terrible cost, torment casts a ghastly pall.

There was no song that harried day, no music sang, no Horah or child's play,
Miserable upon our bleeding knees, eyes down cast, thence staring up, we wept,
My breaking heart heaving in my chest, prayed for mercy, on that depressing day,
Dark veils reigned, conjured tempest, emboldened cloud, incorrigible wind wildly swept.

Thus darkness cast its lasting shadow, 'cross mankind's fevered brow,
Yet Caesar reigned, that iron fist grasping, groping, dictating in Creation's stead,
Across the land, flags bound the course, building unholy empire, and still somehow,
Darkness negated Light, future Nero tripped the light fantastic, cities burned as mankind bled.

Deep in the magic sea, there's a place, where Divine is borne,
Where sanctity grasps precious life, takes strong hold of metaphysic helms,
God delivers worldly words, Angels trumpet sacred dawn, blown on a Golden Horn,
Where compassion becomes impassioned thought, light ent'ring supreme astral realms.

Behold! Treasure's veil is lifted for all to see,
Sacred has been given rights to calm a tempestuous sea,
That day upon Golgotha's knob, salvation was born for thee,
That violent day as God did mourn, mankind was chained and flogged, yet free.

Across the endless sands of time, echo stories of mankind's journey,
Some say they've seen the epic, glimmering light of that pineal mirage,
Golgotha's fateful apex has come and gone, disintegrated like mythic destiny,
Christlike, Buddha rests, rooted to the sacred bodhi tree, extant of worldly barrage.

 Dada

Ga ga ma, ala ma ga ma,
Oyo, me gama gayma, oba ga,
Cee, cee, me da ma tha,
Oy toe, moy toe, ga ma ta da.

Be leep, do leep, tu quai, so quai,
Boo ga ma, de boo ga ma, indi may,
Bex, do y da, lex, tex, bo di tay,
Zin baga, haga, lo dee fay.

Zhin mao, geff sta lay ho,
Bin tao, deff bay da go,
Ob scew, zhi gew, in gaw,
Sob tew, be dew, on faw.

Loba, ex, so ex, me do bah sha,
Hoba dee, vin loga dee, en sta,
Oh mani, mani om, nyet, nyet, oh dome,
Vet rune, so sune, di moon, di offa tome.

Zyet neffa, genna neffa, bee na neffa,
Orn fao, moo gao, en zi nee reffa,
Bon too, hawn too, geffa nee, sto.
Wha by gee dah, zin zet gee da, la mo.

Zebba, vie inga dona,
Tebba, zie minga hona,
Zo tet, ro met, in ti na mo,
Bo jhet, un kret, en mi na fo!

There's a storm coming,
Razing continents for all they're worth,
There's a tempest brewing,
Raging furious, 'cross the thirsty earth,
There's a pale horse advancing,
Death's red rider spurring, cursing,
Truculent pestilence is prancing,
Satan is shouting, wildly dancing,
Soon the Serpent will be stalking,
Soon the Reaper will be talking,
Bring out your dead,
Soon Death will be out walking,
Bring out your dead,
A vile monster's coming,
Bring out your dead,
Monstrosities brazenly drumming,
Bring out your dead.
War is stewing,
Bring out your dead,
Danger's brewing,
Bring out your dead.
Beasts are rampaging,
Bring out your dead,
Rats are staging,
Bring out your dead.
Demons have breached the castle wall,
Bring out your dead,
Godless men have taken charge of all,
Bring out your dead.
Now the rueful end is near,
Bring out your dead,
Now darkness is what good men fear,
Bring out your dead.
War planes are flying,
Bring out your dead,
Children are crying,
Bring out your dead.
All good things shredded, so austere,
Bring out your dead,
Journey's end is near, it's clearly here,
Bring out your dead.
Leviathan has raised its ugly head,
Bring out your dead,
Loki has warred in Satan's stead,
Bring out your dead,
Bring out your dead.
Distorted by that gruesome face,
When ravaged folk lay splayed and dead,
Beyond the realm of God's good grace,
Where expired armies lay corrupt and bled,
Once war is expunged by Armageddon's final strike,
Once Doom stakes one final head upon a bloody spike,
Once darkness looms o'er all the earth,
Once hope is lost,
Beyond all earthly cost,
Once death has shackled man in a hellish berth,
Once the dead have rotted away,
Once lasting peace has come to stay,
Pure springs will rush forth again,
Blessings in a sacred place,
Upwelling founts will gush again,
Prayers to wash man's sorry face,
Sun will shine upon earth's grief stricken living,
Earth's glory will heal with bountiful giving.
Blue sky will deem a new day is yawning,
Fields of herbs will thrive once the new is dawning,
Gentle deer will graze and mew, at rest with the spotted fawn,
Beasts and birds will roam abundant, wild and free of greedy strife,
Earth itself shall rejoice with Heaven, once all corruptions done and gone,
Purity will once more tend every blessed limb of that sacred tree of life.

Painting umbrellas in my troubled mind,
While urgent rain cascades like lover's tears,
Pebbled sidewalks lie distorted, in arcane kind,
Rainbowed promises falsely soothe my foolish fears.

Along life's perilous nunatak path I wander,
Sparrows flutter helpless in the freezing rain,
Tragic life with all its perfumed dreams I ponder,
As embattled odes conjure ruthless haste again.

"What now?" Spirits querie with sombre tone,
Golden leaves ashimmer, before autumn's gone,
Far across a cajoling sea in the magpie zone,
Spring lifts its vibrant head, e're summer sings its fragrant song.

Now winter storms through my fervent mind,
Cold ice and snow chill my furrowed brow,
Beyond this frigid realm Jacaranda bloom, in purplish kind,
While raging squalls besiege that soft southern mow.

If tenants rent this mindful space,
If vagrants rove this vacant place,
If drifters tread this tattered grace,
Then umbrage piques this pious case.

Still these seasons forebode a coming reign,
Phantom aurora sweeps across a wavering stage,
Seasoned thoughts inspire thoughtless gain,
Still crass, moonstruck calamities, so calloused, rage.

Beyond that tropic, past Antarctic glacial guild,
Beyond jungle thoughts, that insipid dreams instill,
Beyond parched desert climes, that withered notions build,
I stumble blind and anguished, frosted by love's biting chill.

"But then . . . !" Spirit choirs prompt in unison,
Monstrous, hungry whales breach, an iceberg sea,
Hunting tigers, silent tread, their jungle run,
Vipers masquerade, as branches, on the sacred  tree.

Stepping into a void, where darkness dwells,
Flying into the sun, where mysteries are born,
Like Jonah floundered, by giant ocean swells,
Like Icarus discovering, how array is shorn.

Seasoned elements remain, imprinted on my harried soul,
Spirits embellish nightmare screams, ignite Brimstone's furied horn,
Demons cast rakish shadows, 'cross Hell's abstruse shoal,
Angels clash with frenzied fiends,  hellions, supernatural borne.

So arcane love distorts this wicked reflection,
While lover's cries, rampage with thunderous inflection,
Those ribboned sidewalks, pebbled with  distorted fears,
Promising summer song, astride life's many years.

Hope instills a sacred love,
Faith compels the soul to quest,
Dreaming wisdom from above,
As mercy sends the deep to rest.

Thus in my checkered thoughts and dreams,
Life's joyous glory wanes, or so it seems,
Yet seasoned parks, bathed in divine bluebell flowers,
Wake umbrella memories, of painted rainbow towers.

First fear,
then panic.
Is it just me?
Is it manic?
What?
This race!
What?
This game!
It`s the same,
all this shame.
It`s in your face,
this fucking race.
Revolution at a snails pace.
So retrace.
First fear,
second panic.
It`s in the air,
it isn`t manic.
Some don`t believe,
sense beyond retrieve,
end of the world,
end of the human race,
end of life,
it`s rife,
Creation unfurled,
curses forever hurled.
It`s no disgrace,
this panic race,
with it`s manic face,
sans love or grace.
Whence once this world was new,
fresh, untamed,
now soiled, defamed.
But who knew?
Who knew!
What?
This reckless shame,
where golden mattered,
where diamonds shattered,
where hope drew crowds,
but leisure came at a price,
more than just the cost of rice,
more than fat and flour,
costing more every hour.
Some gluttons feast,
hour after hour,
beyond weeks and months and years,
through decades and centuries,
beyond lifetimes and starving tears,
beyond unpopular manic fears,
all those unhappy years.
Creation sought and fought,
with so many splendid ventures,
as mankind hurried,
throughout the ages,
beyond stealth and phages,
beyond fish in bowls,
and birds in cages,
people ran.
No!
Humankind raced,
while nature graced creation.
The world invested in nation after nation,
feeding fear and panic,
feeding Yuletide manic.
Incredible as it may seem,
from stern to stem,
far across the beam,
every fear was measured,
as the golden was treasured,
as the panic was caged and managed.
Every dream,
every dreamer,
every moment of REM,
every crying child bandaged,
every dark roasted coffee,
sweetened with sugar,
whitened with creamer,
thus fear was sentenced normal,
golden treasure deemed so formal,
so all that stealth and wealth,
horded by that Tower of Power,
incorporated by those tall castle walls,
from whence rich and fame still errantly calls,
broadcasting o`er the wailing fear,
prescribing sugar pills and rainbow trinkets,
settling down the manic panic,
as the world ends,
as creation bends,
as the Creator giggles,
performing perfunctory snuggles,
observing first the fear,
watching then the panic,
balancing first the fear,
controlling then the manic.

Autumn's brilliant moon arises, lights a sombre sky,
On Hallows Eve, while veiled spirits conjure ghosts,
Listen! Rustling leaves, just beyond the garden nigh,
Where wilting flowers fade to brown, amongst their loamy hosts.

October's ego spent, released as coloured leaves,
Jupiter relents, hailing Venus with her haloed gleam,
Afield red fox yips, midst forgotten mold'ring sheaves,
While warrior Mars repents, regrets it's turgid stream.

All Hallows Eve! When phantoms walk the earth,
Mark this time, resolving sin, beyond the border line,
Spectres, adorned in cosmic white, belie their spatial worth,
As man reflects upon that spell, ghosts echo what is thine.

Magic! Mystic charms abound in dead of night,
Charge electric atmosphere, invoked by witches three,
Incantations spoken now, summon forth a demon's might,
Enchanted moonbeams caress the ambience, next to the hanging tree.

Birth and death tussle now, each strive to win the struggle,
Exultant life rebirthing now, commits to clinch the same,
Rejoicing death ravages the way, for each and every muggle,
Lest forthright Angels round the bend, staging heaven's game.

Now as the haunted hours wane, as Autumn stems it's gold,
Far beyond that garden gate, where bent flowers wither still,
From dark woods Owl recites the names, of lost souls wand'ring cold,
Witches dance round flick'ring flames, high upon iconic hill.

So on this night, this Hallows Eve, remain safely on your path,
Where righteousness and virtue, aren't blinded by the night,
So witches, demons or the devil, can't harm you with their wrath,
Behold! A glowing moon far past the garden gate, girdled by a pious light.

Waking I stare into a myriad of mirrored lights,
Watching a chameleon rearrange it's tone and shade,
Reflecting how the tiger has changed it's stripes,
Marveling as moments make rainbow beams dim and fade.

Reaching for that lost moment when all seemed bright,
Hoping with my broken being that some thing mends my heart,
Searching as the quartered moon resolves it's shining light,
Desiring while the distant stars keep secrets with their art.

Dreams that ride a painted horse,
Muse directs that hallowed play,
Visions that paint that sacred course,
Spirit points us to that blessed way.

All that sin I see and bear,
All that joy which seems so far,
All that love that isn't there,
All those secrets that veil each scar.

Wand'ring in that dreaming place,
Rambling as the sacred moon divines,
Drifting in that time and space,
Floating free o'er those guarded lines.

With this nocturne I bow and pray,
That mirrored image which I see,
With nature's blessing I stand and say,
Is nothing less than you and me.

Step after step, drifting closer to that cliff edge,
Nearer that precipice, bordering that primal ledge,
Some take flight, others plummet, stumble and fall,
With that sense, ethereal passage is but a spectral call.

If Angels live, so Archangels verily award,
If prayers are answered, with just reward,
Perhaps that rift, which looms ahead,
Shall be bridged by love, when grace is said.

If demons cling, if we don't resist,
Surely we'll succumb, love won't exist,
If evil draws us nearer to that brink,
Surely heart will die, mind cease to think.

Bound mortal, tread with cautious care,
Look to the fore, to do and dare,
Temptation rings and calls one's name,
Entrapping spirit, thus lose the game.

What behemoth hath joy conjured?
What leviathan hath love injured?
What spatial quest has thought merged?
Abreast of chasm, embellished void, so rigid, turgid.

Cold winds push me nearer, toward the rim,
Calloused hearts goad me onward, whence the clouded view is grim,
Peering o'er that imperiled canyon, I  ponder, wonder then,
Shall love and joy  atone, not if or how, but simply when?

Yearn to glimpse Heaven's gate, though joyful love seems awfully bent,
Far across that fissured rent, I hope to see what Heaven sent,
Faith is forged, Soul's trust is gauged, love's credence spent,
Upon that sacred heart, as prayers are spoken and dreams are dreamt.

Still storm clouds impede every view of Heaven's gate,
Lightning strikes that barren rim, as Angels tend to glories fate,
Impelled by God, assist man's languid case, in that grievous state,
To span the void with that rescue vow, so death be fed and sated now .

Kneeling, on the edge, fire burns within my heart,
Flaming questions, such earthly baggage, keeping love apart,
Accepting the All, granting wings and flight to mortal man,
Envelope time, so that birth and death remain within God's plan.

Rising, statuesque, by that tragic fold and hollow,
Desiring wings to grow, wishing precious flight to follow,
As sense and sensibility diminish, as Soul is tempered with that nature,
Release is found, within the bounds of that Holy stature.

God willing, across the void, with karmic touting,
Beginning new, death's ambrosia served, a chorus shouting,
Like the Phoenix musing,  radiant light be guiding,
Into Heaven's realm, with Sacred truth abiding.

So relentless death doth purge then sow,
E'en while perilous life be all we know,
Yet love and joy resist that bent,
Divine Power hath Creation sent.

To cross that void,
To span that chasm,
To enter Heaven joyed,
Free of every earthly phasm.

Unemcumbered, I slept and slumbered,
Took my leave from sunlight's blazing rife,
Lingered where dreams are dreamt and numbered,
Shook that norm, removed the shake and strife of daily life.

I closed my eyes and dreamed of truth and pure,
In my quest for wisdom, seeking every wayward star,
Discovered youth's fountain, manifesting every cure,
Into the wild I journeyed, from nearly here, to very far.

Misty dreams, rose drifting, likewise wafting,
Still, as I soaked my soul, in that steaming bath,
Across a splendid universe, beyond creation's drafting,
Up that blessed valley, down that sacred path.

Dreaming legend, conjuring myth,
Into that clouded mist I tread,
My mind met soul, my core, life's very pith,
Into that varied vision, where muse is bred.

Transiting down this path, I stopped to rest,
What had I found? Was it wisdom's source?
Did Angels guide me in this hallowed quest?
Had God revealed wisdom's divine course?

Far into night I traveled time,
Past moonlit streams, gleaming silver shine,
Through corridors of golden verse and rhyme,
Along with heartfelt hope, I held as mine.

Once the feral sun had waked and risen,
Fading galaxies somberly took their leave,
Forthwith the dream had raised it's mizzen,
Sailing past the threshold's rainbow sheave.

A port, upon some distant shore,
A tide, that ebbs and moans with lore,
A gate, where demons hold the fore,
A dream where muse is rent and more.

Beyond that blue horizon, brilliant stars are born,
Faith and light, mixed with every pastel rainbow hue,
While Angels dream each dawn and morn,
Where life is blessed, and soul is too.

Intention, where death is overcome,
Invocation, suffused with sacred Kundalini spell,
Invention, whence life bears Heaven's son,
Incarnation, infused with joy, so love might dwell. 

Along that sacred path I walked,
Abreast a stream of dreaming thought,
Abridged by time as daylight balked,
Abiding twilight, akin that starry place I sought.

Speaking verse, in some ancient tongue,
Seeking truth, I closed my weary eyes,
Wresting passage, from truths unsung,
Seizing conscience, midst many lies.

Aside the dark, that moans forlorn,
Against the wind, where time is shorn,
Adjoined by pure, and Heaven's horn,
I glimpsed that realm, where light is born.

From that ghastly trench,
whence the dead ne'er rose again,
far beyond that nauseating stench,
beyond wars grisly bane,
1918 left writhing grief alone,
thence a world that must atone,
for hateful sins that ministers and kings derived,
for young lives lost,
at such a dreadful cost,
for so much life deprived,
yet with nature's zephyr comes another terrible human moan,
as war once again rears it's fearsome head,
void of love and joy, instead,
another trench where death concocts it's home,
where shattered lives fall in pieces,
more souls lost and set adrift,
as ministers and kings cultivate yet another rift.

If love e'er knocks upon this hovel door,
If love e'er dare call the name that I adore,
a warriors heart will meet the game,
with poignant arrows I'll surely pierce the same.
Still, within this harried soul,
love's plague hath marked my varied being,
void of crystal clear or fame.
Quiescent, errant love, so marred,
lives on, yet distant, so afar,  
love somehow breathes life,
love's honour, sharpened like a knife,
errant love, miscreant love, remains the same.

This wounded heart of mine,
In time, I hoped it would heal,
Yet years go by, still it's not fine,
Still ragged wounds are what I feel.

So many tears, beyond the waterfall,
My broken heart, lies in pieces, it's true,
Drowning in my torrid dreams, each lasting call,
Hushed by cruel, so it seems, crushed by horrid too.

One night I looked into your eyes,
One kiss from you, I knew love did exist,
One love we felt, unaware of discord or disguise,
One day to the next, we both felt love, dancing in love's darling mist.

So we fall in love . . . we fall in love . . .  we fall,
At the most inopportune time, this wild heart,
Ransoming  raw emotions, with every to and fro tug, each love call,
Into that melee kisses drag us, recalling love's tease, tearing love apart.

When we fall and fumble, with love tugging at our heart strings,
I remember you, with love's kind eye, stumbling on every rock, every angled fold,
With you caged in my heart, I remember our sweet embrace, hold dear those love things,
Broken hearted, I remember parting, tears spilling with my fears, so silly love's tangled hold.

Oh golden sunshine! Warm this lonesome heart!
Pan down on dark, distant streets, walking apart,
Oh summer rain! Wash away my sorry woes, impart love ala carte,
Renounce this fate, as love diminished, another tragic start, painting fatal art.

Trapped in this disfigured frame, dismembered by disengaged arrows,  my beating heart,
Flanked by love's fallen soldiers, each one armed with love's insipid taunts and woes,
Years go by,  dreams are dashed, still you're forever gone, into twilight, we're so far apart,
I walk alone, sleep alone, dream alone, while errant love guffaws and crows, such low blows.

Grasp the bow, my trembling hand, love thrusts pointed arrows, trying to atone,
Blinded by the sun, love prevails, turning side to side, my pierced heart doth bleed,
Cheek to cheek, we used to dance, held hands, let love remind us we were alone,
Those moments, when two souls breathed as one, when love planted it's wondrous seed.

Tangled in this web of life, where savage love torments our souls,
Strangled by this ruthless knot, where love left it's wounding mark,
Surreptitiously, this cagey lank, parading as if love weren't full of holes,
Uninspired love, love with all it's range and glory, love gone awry, love so dark.

If love e'er knocks upon this hovel door, if love e'er dare call my name,
A warriors heart will meet the game, with poignant arrows I'll surely pierce the same,
Still, within this harried soul, love's plague hath pock marked my varied being, void of fame,
Yet errant love, so marred, lives on, love breathes life, love's honour remains the same.

Staring into an uncertain future, through a misty veil, so clouded, so unclear,
I feel your spirit, drifting somewhere out in space, not alone but in congregation,
So love has won in the end, distant love has drawn me in again, this love career,
Leaving me wounded and bleeding, by the littered wayside, inside love's lonely station.

Surrounded by love, grieving for so many lost and bleeding hearts,
Infirm, created by love, as tortured souls cry, tainted with love's feral calling,
Unleashed, Venus rips, reeling, turning, lest each setting sun flares, twists love's cautious art,
Once kisses have been banned, thus love be cut and dried, finally love disallowed from falling.

Into this deep crevasse I fall, floundering in abject darkness,
Tumbling down this slippery slope, no angel to catch or hold me, pray,
Love's obtuse angle has torn me apart, fragile love, with all it's sharpness,
Closing weary eyes, tears wash love away, memories of love, that held you and me and they.

I heard there was light in this place,
Someone told me, so I boldly came,
Whispered something smoky, in my face,
Somehow scorched me, with a burning flame.

Over these many years, extant of the racing moment,
Days became nights, as tornadoes severely twisted life,
While people woke, dressed and cloaked,  committed to comment,
Marking unusual paths, unseen voids, avoiding sun-storms and loose strife.

Traffic stalled as perilous light changed, green then amber to flaming red,
Lightning bolted across looming horizons, flexing dark trees and herbal ramps,
Pedestrians charged to the fore, wrapped in auto delirium, drawing swords in their stead,
Yet ocean tides still ripped and tore, the moon still tramped o'er distant verbal camps.

Searching my dreams, hope rose above the lofty clouds,
Waiting and wanting the light to enter my heart, kneeling to pray,
One instance, instantly another, thought and deed swept aside shrouds,
According to Hoyle, rules apply, and with certain application I tried not to stray.

Now with the fires burning, now with the earth's mantle churning,
Now with heaven so far beyond us, now with the abyss yawning below us,
Darkness envelopes a waning world, rewriting stories with history's yearning,
Light illuminates each narrow crevasse, enmasse this worldly creation speaks thus.

Where do we go from here? Where is this light you spoke of?
Is this dream but an illusion? Or are we caught in some transient mix?
Where is this Nirvana? Where is Glorious Heaven and God's love?
Are we awake or does a never ending sleep keep us in this torrid fix?

I opened my eyes, searching my universe for the promised light,
Far in the distance, for an instant, I thought I glimpsed a glimmering ray,
Focusing on that horizon, I felt my heart leap with anticipation and delight,
That glimmer was all I got, then pain whisked me back into this daily fray.

So I walked on, passing many laying crumpled and still, by the littered wayside,
Sunrise after sunset I kept to the road, hoping that promised light would prevail,
In worn out footwear I plodded and tripped, bruised by errant stones, impossible to hide,
Still I dreamed of the light, even as I slept, aspiring I expected that light would not fail.

Yet another sunset, yet another mountain in my dreams,
With only hope in my heart, one beat as I breathe, striving to forgive,
Still that promised light remains distant, and hidden, or so it seems,
Now another glowing moon rises, while thoughts of light, give me reason to live.

Gargoyles, like prophets, perched in deep dark grottos,
Sweating blood, staring through moist sultry fog, glaring out,
Buddha eyes, dharma smiles, contemplate earth's demise, reciting mottos,
Boiling plasma, constrained by lava, sipping lithium along that narrow route.

Jupiter sweeps red spots from its weathered zone,
Imprisoned poppy fields, purporting liberty, plowed and sown,
Weeping, abashed, the tethered moon cries alone,
Freedom groans under sombre skies, drones and sorties ceaseless, flown.

Wild jackals tear at bleeding flesh, then pause,
RPG's blast and rip through tender skin and bone,
War repeats, war repeats, war repeats, its evil cause,
Penitent soul's, soldiers rent asunder,  so nation's must atone.

Wise men see what could have been, those wounded, wand'ring lost,
Blind men stumble through burning rubble, earth lies broken, marred and quaking,
Adjacent mine fields, where legless children beg, candied coins are flung and tossed,
Bright sons and daughters of freedom lie bleeding, as a tattered world lies shaking.

If flagrant war, marched to every battle, on its very own,
If no army went, no private, captain nor general,  nor uniforms or bombs,
No flags flown, no war songs sung, no creeds chanted, would war still be sown?
Would women shoot the guns? Would warriors turn to pen goodly psalms?

Such worry! Demons inspired by this evil wartime plight,
Still armaments, manufactured, built, and sold, and sold, and sold three fold,
Rich profiteers horde wealth, contrive war's economy, gain from each sordid fight,
Reaping wretched riches, hell's reward in the end, ugly lies are told and sold,  again retold.

Whence Peace? Where is that loving human heart?
Has mankind given peace a chance? Or is it all just folly?
Would Jesus and Mohammed bear this grudge match, e'en take part?
Would Moses lead the battle charge, give strict orders for that fatal volley?

Deep in that Holy cave, Saints and common men ingest ransoms truth,
Mother Earth bewildered, behaves extant, crowning Glory with elegant Being,
Awash with Alpha and Omega, timeworn brilliant life deems war so uncouth,
Angels impart God's will, whilst Heaven's door is oped, sordid hatred fleeing.

Approach the Throne of God! Lay down your wicked arms!
Let Creation Enlighten thee, whilst Sages sing of Perfect Peace!
Let honourable service be thy quest! Rescind your wicked charms!
Let goodness rule! Purest love shall surely grant the Golden Fleece!

Gargoyles settle in those steamy caves, relinquishing evil's enduring test,
Gentle souls mark the day with heartfelt introspection, while Sufis' twirl and dance,
Each age, so marked, by war's relentless rage, such bitter horror, engulfs the nest,
Conjoined in life by breath and heartbeat, yet forgotten compassion takes war's stance.

Gargoyles, like prophets, spout, spilling truth upon the earth below,
Swearing allegiance, sipping from that Holy cup, whence creation began,
Shouting to four corners of the world, thus spake the sun, with its creative glow,
Buddha's eyes, with that dharma smile, extoll the goal of good life for all of man.

Deep in that Holy cave, deep in the heart of all mankind,
Born with each waking breath, as daylight rests evil's realm,
Earthly souls applaud the loving light, rejoice with each days welcome find,
Creation's passion, abide all sentient beings, let compassion take the helm.

Cold April! Capsulating thy arctic barren look!
Wilt thou wake, from this frigid winter slumber?
Hast thou e'er dressed, with summer's frilly hook?
Wilt thou finally warm, reject ice and snow, unencumber?

Silenced, so cold hearted, becomes thy wintry trend,
April's sultry spring, like naive Juliet, awash in icy moonlight,
Standing staid, conjuring, this budding love, where art to send?
Impatient May awaits! Redressed Romeo, arrest thy courtly night.

Wickedness strives to mend, sweet tender bust,
Depraved, out of wedlock, April's lusty horn,
Expects spring's leaving, such lofty lazy trust,
Still icy calm pens reprimand with frigid form.

What now Paris, lying bloodied in thy shallow grave?
Shall April's waxing period become the perfect storm?
Lax now, whence worms devour hidden secrets, so depraved,
Beneath black loam where April greets subsoil's cool norm.

Lest this balcony collapse, with the weight of spoken lines,
Behest rigid Paris, with spring's opulent second coming, awake,
Yet Juliet, imprisoned by life's poisoned blade, so refines,
Lest Romeo, fail to unsheath his sword, regret love words he spake.

What need is there for this cautious delirium?
Skipping pebbles, 'cross frosty rippled ponds,
Bouncing like days and months across hours emporium,
Entrancing rising sap, cherishing May's promised fronds.

Yet April, regret it's annual place, hope for placement in summer's heat,
What then would fair Verona vow, if spring replaced cool April's bow?
Would two households, dignified alike, amuse the play, rewrite spring's treat?
Would citizens applaud new acts, recourse such fate, amend this sacred now?

How now this violent nature? From February's slipp'ry grip to April's budding trip,
Spring's playful theme, love's yearly feud, this sensual sonnet of fourteen weeks,
Like icicles hanging glassy on a winters eve, like brash red willows sappy sip,
April's permutations, transforming acts, expressions a star-cross'd lover speaks.

Lovers meet, two seasons greet, a kiss, in April's chilly street,
Like natural death, organic birth, this painful month of spring,
Remorseful, aft a moment's strife, birth and death compete,
Desire! This ancient grudge, whence buried rage is nought to bring.

Capulets and Montagues, like two seasons, abate the blossom's rush,
Romeos and Juliets, like snow and rain, abrade life's lusty torso,
Two houses, address the moist and wet, abreast with spring's honest flush,
Whence the burly stage is set, the plays the thing, with April's primal morsel.

  I'm sorry for my tardiness, not often reading comments you readers have so kindly left at times. Please pardon my audience neglect. In reality I have severe stage fright, something that I have carried since being a child. Those times when my parents and teachers encouraged me to get up on stage, in front of crowds, suddenly in the spot light, toodling on my accordion, messing up, playing rotten notes. Suddenly up on stage, again, after so many practices, speaking memorized lines, in school plays, messing up, such a soporific actor, such terrible acting. Strangely, when I was a little kid, I loved making people laugh, a clown at heart. But then something tragic happened. After I broke my leg (you know the old saying, 'break a leg'), I lost my clown suit and withdrew. I think it was that damn accordion, all those Saturday lessons (with one music teacher in particular, the guy that would get mad and raise his voice, Mr. Turta, oops), all that after school practicing, then those occasional stage disasters, when I withered and decided I hated being in the spot light. Since then, all those years ago, I've faded into the wings, seeking the shadows and moonlight more so than daylight and the spotlight. But then, ironically, I have this small side of me that still wants, still craves, you know what I mean. Don't you?! I'm sure you must, you do, at least the majority of you. Anyhow, to not go on and on with this I must tell you that there have been inquiries, a few folk that actually like some of my poetry, some of my stuff, that I post here, and there (in my google guise, as Kestrel Feather). A few people that have asked if they might share my poetry, even writing it out with their own skills and artistry, like calligraphy. Truly, I am honoured that such kind and generous inquiries have been made. Honestly, I hope that those folk that are inspired by my words, my work, do indeed share and link my stuff from JoeC's blog spot (in reality I would love more exposure, a bigger audience, more readers). I only ask that when you do share my poems (or photos) that you please be sure to let people know that I am the original author and photographer. I would also appreciate that if anyone does decide to share my work that they let me know (through this blog page, as a comment or some note), kindly letting me know where and how my work has been shared as well.
  Thank you all for taking the time to come here, to JoeC's blog spot, to read my poetry, to view my photos. I hope you continue to enjoy what I post here. Thank you all so very much! Cheers! 
 -  JoeC, aka Joe Carrot, aka Kestrel Feather.
- email me at joecarrotinargenta@gmail.com

Beat anxiety, that's what the T.V. ad, blinking truth serum, said,
Beat depression, too, at least that's what this simple pilgrim read,
So I thought, yeah, no doubt, there's left, a remnant of that beat generation,
Still scrambling out of ditches, slipping on the dregs of life, wand'ring 'round this tormented nation,
So yeah, it made some sense to unembellished me, those beat folk are oft a burning anxious lot,
And yeah, there's them seekers, sleep depressed, wake depressed, infested, slimed by the grundgy walk they got,
Strange how T.V., so it seems, acknowledged those, needled in heroine clothes, donning crack and crystal shoes,
Them folk, hid away in rotting cities and stinking alleys, rummaging prized crap that fatter cats and rats tossed out, such thirsty life behooves ,
Now it dawned on me, sitting out of town in my dirty hermit shack, surrounded by so much of my own lack,
Dreaming of Mexican beaches, salivating with the thought of fresh peaches, relished tourism on a stick, but in reality,
All that good stuff, those with jobs and funds bind, those with excess dollars find, so blatantly obvious to me,
What the beat generation still pursues, hippies now, all that peace and groove and love, along with other fools,
All that wine and pot and poetry, slammed and smoked and spoken, like ancient rhymes,  wielding life's lofty tools,
Oh so cool! Just social misfits, shuffling along, with their misgivings, festooned in baggy pants, ragged skirts and longtime hurts,
All those homeless folk, those worshippers of spice, all those bedraggled nymphs and losers, cruisers, adorned in worn out shirts,
Not unlike those poets and winos, some long dead and gone, wizened sprites and armoured knights, that strove to live the beatnik life,
There's this relic, unwanted surplus jazz, still thinking Kerouac and Ginsberg and Waits, reciting spirited words and vines and lines,
Retelling snapping fingers, with electric zap, so powerful still that Moloch cowers, hotter than sizzling lava, drizzled, sometimes poured, from lofty cement towers,
Speaking hymns and rhymes, in these martyred times, cooler than a thousand New York nights, all cracked up and murdered, via secret hurricanes, growing segmented flowers,
More truthful than all the dead and dying, children sliced and killed like head lice, lying diced and bled and crying, on some foreign battleground,
Where helter-skelter innocence, frame by whitewashed frame, is flung pell-mell, scattered  reckless,  all around,
Into the flames of hell, for Moloch to tear apart, bloodied dessert for the fiery beast, delivered with savage unruly wrath,
Causing all this beat anxiety and hip depression, washing through timid street ranks, calling out with unholy howl, leaving rank oily streaks along that well worn path.
So now we see, there is no glee, in this precious premise, that fascists too, doped up with ativan and lorazepam, dream those night mare walks,
Suffer side effects, drafting their own wicked knocks, all stretched up in their tailored suits, noosed in blasphemous ties and shiny shoes, as they walk their fetid talk,
Cognitive deficit of delorazepam from their shelves, scraping facts and feces from their virus ridden lives and selves, wallowing in wealth, wanting to beat anxiety and depression,
Wending through their fearful, angry lives, stumbling half drunk and blind, confused, along that torrid path, wond'ring what street to safely take, sensing true confession.

Unlike Charles Bukowski, perched on his box, seemingly up on his luck,
Drinking poems into grenades and rockets, carving oblivion into lines,
So coarsely rude, abruptly true, farting better than he could fuck,
Slicing bores and whores into bits, mixing base life with dollar wines.

Unlike Leonard Cohen, feeding his Suzanne Chinese oranges and tea,
With hallelujah tattooed on his lips, striking deep chords with his trips,
Singing deeply sublime, harbouring that perfect time, Cohen flies free,
Conjuring rhymes, mixing stanzas with storied chimes and red rose hips.

Teasing myself, full moon rising, no luck or oranges stuffed in my traveling bag,
With my Suzanne hidden in the wings, tugging at my heartstrings, from so far away,
 Lost love drags me o'er the embers and coals, never letting me go, constantly playing tag,
Bleeding and wounded, abridged and abrupt, foolish old fool, or so the wise say.

Maryjane holds my hand now, dancing with Pan 'round that forest stool,
Colourful cap on my top knot, chopping crude chords, flexing my base fingers,
Rumplestiltskin marks golden time, spinning chaff into dust, with the old fool,
While Robin Red Breast, stamped indelibly there, her nubile memory still lingers.

Armoured Inquisitors shouting 'CHARGE!', into that smoldering, hallucinogenic fray,
Swords at the ready, rushing to crucify foolish old Joe, adorned with his thorny crown,
Searching turf and nook for calendula blooms, colourfully indecent, so wonderfully gay,
Unforgiving in their sordid quest, zealots flay every worthwhile thing, not gray or brown.

Unlike Kerouac, sojourning on the road, up on Desolation Peak with Archangel Raphaels,
Piercing America's star spangled heart, leaving empties smashed upon the filthy street,
Mixing color and patina on rusty iron rails, crossing streets and beat lines, smoking Arab camels,
Introducing tortured martyrs and other hepsters, all those the Ginsbergs and Niks dream to meet.

So old Joe crows, chewing carrots, planting fat weeds that yearn to be cut and rolled,
Young Pan and Maryjane dolled up in their make-up, painted hooves, manicured nails shining,
So solid in their forest groove, laying down lines, amongst the whispering pines, verses told,
Rapping time on twinkling stars and flashy comets, with drum sticks and lucid tones, combining.

Yet somewhere in that garden, in that deep blue sea, amongst the flashy fish and glowing corals,
Storied futures stack up, reaching higher than Sagarmatha and Lhotse, from those cavernous trenches,
Reviling kings and thrones and crowns, truth requisitioned by Imps and Nymphs and Elves with morals,
Rounding corners, old oaks moan in blessed gales, as ancient mariners watch stoic from stone benches.

Therefore, unlike Byron and Browning, just out for love and poetic rhyme,
Old Joe lays down with snakes and slugs and worms, on their lofty terms,
Remarking with remarkable expression, in the key of Gee, rapt in four four time,
How life revolves 'round perfumed roses, thorn adorned, bordered by wavering ferns.

I don't know if you'll ever see this,
I wonder if you'll ever read this,
It's been such a long time since we've spoken,
I've held my breath, hoping for some friendship token.

It seems like yesterday we held each other, kissing,
Looked into each others eyes, yet for years you've been missing,
From my life, from my empty life, still fixed in my broken heart,
I've kept you, memories so dear, yet we're distant, so very far apart.

I don't know how love works, it's a mystery to me,
Once you said you loved me, spake those tender words to thee,
Held me in your heart, kept me warm with all your charms,
Cherished life, adoring  love together, sultry in each others loving arms.

But something terrible happened, some tempest, tearing us apart,
An ocean vast and deep, of words and places, right from the start,
A world where understanding, drowned us in a turbulent sea,
Heaven's song imperiled, finally castaways, clinging to the loving tree.

So life goes on now, somewhere your heart dwells in a separate world,
I eat and breathe and sleep alone, since our precious love unfurled,
As time passes by, years now, I still think of you each day,
Dreaming of the love we shared, how we kissed each day away.

 
We laughed and loved under moonlit skies, I wonder if you recall?
Kisses, meant for you alone, together, mixing love with the autumn fall,
Holding hands, sharing love, in your garden with all it's bloom,
Sweet birds sang, flitting too on tender wings, chased away every gloom.

When those southern Jacarandas bloom,
Poems you spoke within your postcard room,
Brilliant purple on spring's austere morn,
Reminds me of euphoric times, now I sit and mourn.

Mellow wind, carry love's message to you,
Gentle joy, sign each tender thought, my love for you,
Across the broad Pacific, to your far-off sunny land,
Rememb'ring strolling down Golgotha's lane, joyful, hand in hand.

Ne'er the twain shall meet, yet dreams keep love alive,
Storied gardens, where fragrant eucalyptus thrive,
Beyond vast oceans, brilliant love doth keep,
Gems, I do recall, rejoice, awake, together we did sleep.

Transformed, this gentle autumn breeze exists,
Recall those easy days, whence we sat making garden lists,
Love's tendrils cross, years of time and space,
List'ning to the colours of the wind, while joy caressed your smiling face.

It seems that rugged time will ne'er change,
It seems that love deceived, beyond it's range,
Our hearts, that joyous sum, shall ne'er again be entwined as one,
Relinquished treasure, where once precious love had won.

Falling in love,
I slipped on the ice,
Falling for you,
I let passage suffice,
Falling entranced,
Your looks did entice,
Feeling romanced,
Your smile so nice,
Feeling my heart race,
Your eyes, how they danced,
Seeing your flushed face,
Sweet love took a stance,
Seeing your hushed grace,
Sweet hearts at a glance,
First kiss, what a fine place,
Holding hands, what a dream,
First words, finding love's embrace,
Holding you close, this fresh cooling stream,
Love, how love's weave laced,
Still loving alone,
Love, how two doves braced,
Still love must atone,
Your heart, help me forget,
Love's whispered guise,
Our love, help me forget,
Love's forever, blue skies,
Our lost love, my lonely regret.

I prayed that I might find myself,
staring into a shining mirror,
gazing past reflective image,
seen true, abstractly clear,
wondering just who,
was staring, looking back?
Recalling participles too,
supported by a sloping cantle,
placed upon that skinny mantle,
up on a tilted shelf,
I hoped that lack of pilgrimage,
might help repel the black.
Those words of fear,
clutched so near,
that life itself be lost,
along with joyful tears,  
beyond the ghastly scrimmage,
such a lasting, fateful cost.

What is music?
But notes, 
a series of measures, 
that sound denotes.
Ah! But wait!
It is, it be,
so much more!
Music gives,
gratification and pleasure,
fast and slow!
It is,
up and down,
stairs and an elevator!
Music is,
passion and power,
glory and beauty!
It is movement and dance,
gaiety and laughter!
Music is melody
and rhythm,
beat and groove!
It is beauty and perfection,
orchestra and band!
Music is life
and death,
sadness and grief.
It is temperament and emotion,
chorus and direction!
Music is depth and dimension!
Happiness and joy!
It is travel and vacation,
ceremony and visitation!
Music is,
sojourn and journey,
sleep and dreams!
It is vibration and wavelength,
chess and a puzzle!
Music is language
and song,
novel and poem!
It is danger and darkness,
shining light and glaring brilliance!
Music is feast and famine,
hip hop and waltz!
Music is oil and vinegar,
dinner and breakfast!
It is flight and fancy,
love and hate!
Music is war and peace,
battle and plague!
It is ocean and river,
glacier and lava!
Music is you
and me,
us and them!
It is poverty and genius,
wealth and riches!
Music is gold and silver,
turquoise and topaz!
It is mind and thought,
vision and perception!
Music is character and concept,
movie and play!
It is castle and apartment,
dungeon and tower!
It is angel and demon,
plant and animal!
Music is cosmos and comet,
quasar and quantum leap!
It is energy and muse,
emotion and kisses!
Music is planet and earth!
All across the universe!
It is God, the Creator,
Man the Master!
Life's broadcaster,
Music Is!

If time dared stand still, if brother moon be flung into a nova sun,
If love lay raped and cold and dead, forgotten in some lonely grave,
If days turned black as night,  if crude oil spoiled our sacred run,
Surely God would weep for us! Oceans cease their crescent wave!

If love lay bleeding by the littered wayside,
If all joy be swept from life, replaced by tragic sorrow,
If true happiness lie scourged, lost in raptures waning tide,
Stars would fall from burning skies, on the broken morrow.

Why does war and selfish wickedness raze so many lands?
Why is our sacred world so ruined, ruthlessly shattered?
Will all birds cease to sing, all fish disgraced in burning sands?
Why are lies so freely spoken, as if truth never mattered?
 
All mankind hides shame, such sinful dreadful tales should tell,
Once were warriors, confirmed with courage, honourably brave,
Devils shock mankind's soul, rifle righteousness into flagrant  hell,
Surely sun will cease to shine, virtue debased to ash, good knight reduced to knave.

So many, countless dead and buried,
Blameless millions entombed in dust,
Precious life so timeless, ever hurried,
Foul rivers run rampant, 'cross a calloused crust.

Let the fleeting world feast on blessed truth again,
Heal mortal wounds, apply sacred balm and prayer,
Admit joy into one's heart again, as adoration should e'er remain,
Let love and wisdom always be thy bliss, everlasting soothesayer.

Peace opens barred and guarded doors,
Blood flows thicker than tears and holy water,
Immortal love, designed creation, all that God adores,
Remove mankind's thorny crown, remit this useless slaughter.
 
Where innocent lives are stolen by evil sin,
When heartbreak lies bludgeoned in the bloodied fore,
Why forever crushes joy in the waxing din,
What then my kin, will faith still lead us to a blessed shore?

What is life, if heaven meets it's doom?
Where God has planted seed, will Satan reap his hell?
Why would planets stay, if sacred left the room?
When sun refuse to shine, will moon abstain as well?

God forbid! What hymns are left to sing?
Can life continue, when earth quakes before impending fall?
Is goodness rent asunder, if vipers strike and sting?
Will spirit ascend to heaven, when time remits its call?

Take your leave, ascend the mountain face,
Strike the gong, as time recites in ancient tongue,
Fling ope all dungeon gates, chain terror in that horrid place,
Lower hope down to that realm, fairly balanced, rung to rung.

Commune, this blessed wafer, personify spirit, embody soul,
Epiphany upholds thy trust, entreats euphoric capture,
Whilst daring time bids life adieu, epoch's unrelenting goal,
Suffusing life, mixing water with sacred springs, fresh fruit from Eden's rapture.

Still, wild horses gallop 'cross primeval windswept dunes,
Distant galaxies bravely conjure hope, desiring for all,
Stars, yet nova, twist and twink, resolving distant moons,
Whilst God weeps, ghostly time boasts, hosts this earthly call.

 

Great leaders, in their wisdom, should don the uniform and braid,
March to the front line, go to battle, lead the glory charge,
With their sons and daughters by their side, steady, ready, staid,
Usher in the battle fray, lead onslaught beyond the battle marge.

But alas, authority drops out of sight, cowards, hiding in their storied towers,
Sending youngsters they've ne'er known, to the eastern front,
Trumpeting war, so selfishly warranted, less regard for treasured flowers,
Fiercely touting patriots, salute the flag, telling wanton lies, greed parlays the hunt.

There is no glory in death, only stench and stink and rot,
Dead soldiers lay departed, in war's bloodied tangled mess,
Haunted souls, make the lonesome journey, to where they finally got,
So true, corroded blue, this reckless stew, where patrons must confess.

Reciting biting poetry, that rips the guts out, bleeds the heart, tears at the very soul,
Tell it as it really is, war is hell, war is hell, hellish war, reeking of that horrid smell,
Crouching by the wayside like a raging tiger, ripping mortal parts from the wounded whole,
Grips its prey without remorse, crazed by that relished flesh, war is hell, war is hell, war is hell.

Stripping men and countryside of all worthy marks and cause,
Leaving remorseful tales, forsaken bloated corpse, where ragged armies fell,
Remark their gruesome tale, as yon battle fakes a momentary pause,
Still, dead and wounded lay penitent, war is hell, war is hell, war is hell.

Castled in their ivory towers, gloating mongers raise crystal to their evil cause,
Idolatry, worship gold and riches, hording stolen wealth, kept safe beyond war's peril,
While in the field of battle, children die, hacked by heartless bombs that seldom pause,
Distant godless men in charge, fortress, away from danger, like rabid dogs gone feral.

Oh good greatness! How doth peaceful love e'er resolve this ghastly conflict?
Battle calls bugle in the charge, in the shadows still old glory waves, blameless innocence fell,
Can't folk see how senseless is the matter, same in the end, always earning cruel verdict?
Grave warriors mark the bloodied dell, lamenting as the setting sun, war is hell, all war is hell.

God forgive me! I impeach aristocracy, blue bloods cloaked with their rank cupidity,
Purloining, pilfering, surreptitiously thieving, embezzling earth's riches and her wealth,
Kings and captains, in their buttressed towers, relying on fear tactics and stupidity,
Knowing power shores up their station, war bears their strength and stealth.

Life depends on mother earth, good men understand that truth,
Elitists shun the word of God, make light of earth's renown,
Authority, mastery, domination, their battle plans uncouth,
Camel through the needle's eye, they'll ne'er don Christ's sacred crown.

I prayed for joy, and joy became,
Through ether, thence the All,
I prayed for hope, let hope remain,
Transcending vapour, whence the All.

I hoped for healing, healing shone,
God came to me, midst universal stealth,
I ope'd my heart, the broken gone,
Spirit empowered me, with eternal wealth.

I prayed for peace, death rejoiced,
Holy of Holies, ran the gauntlet,
I prayed for heaven, angel voiced,
Ghostly dreams, revealed the haunted.

I desired faith, faith parted the sea,
Lest wonderment, dash fear that danger fraught,
I desired sight, clarity was given me,
Spectacle delivered freedom, emancipation caught.

I prayed for wisdom, wisdom taught,
Soul enlightened me, as Seth spake,
I prayed for light, light forged and wrought,
Prophetic dreams, path visions take.

I longed for love, love caressed my soul,
Still marvelous awe, thence the All,
I longed for purity, purity made me whole,
Through adoration, whence the All.

So much longing, so much life,
So many hopes, so many prayers,
So much desire, so much strife,
So many tears, so many layers.

Awake, thus breathe, hear Heaven's call,
Partake, delight in this earthly feast,
Know love and joy, worship the All,
Surrender your heart, embrace your inner priest.

Know then, as every wise man sought,
Mountain caves, where self judgement taught,
Deep in the sea, where rare courage rises,
Unfathomable mysteries, Spirit cloaked by many guises.

All those hidden mysteries,
Confounding ancient histories,
Yet stone circles still reveal,
Precious, artifacts, balm to heal.

Recess, in your snug earth home,
Setting sun bids farewell, still not alone,
Our happy hearth, those storied fires,
Family laughter, until all lay tired.

Stand tall, midst circled standing stone,
Sing proud, as cosmic poems atone,
Search e'ery forest, life plants the seed,
Walk song lines, count flaming comets, taking special heed.

Sacred Fire! Torch in hand, while Sol's arrival deems,
Daylight dreams, cyclic streams, necessity it seems,
As coloured wind blows soft across the deep vast ocean,
Grand scale, God's divine breath, pray, that holy motion.

Was? Or did I dream this?
A ring of standing stones, their mythic kiss,
Does season herald legend foretold?
Doth celebration gleam with silver, glimmer gold?

What? Ancestral bones! Grandmother tell us all your unwritten stories!
Grandfather stone! Unhinge your sacred jaw, reveal all your hidden glories!
Cradle my angelic soul, allow me this granite view, adore your shimmering wing,
As arcing love pre-dawns, seasoned stone breathes life, glorious monuments forever sing.

Decorate your hymns with elite monastic icing,
Revolve with split second timing, sacred vibration, so enticing,
Wonder objects, talisman, spirit us away to new reality,
Abrasive hours, sophisticated corridors, powerful congeniality.

Exquisite life! Bow down to Sacred Being, Oneself,
Awake! Relinquish destiny, sitting nigh upon the shelf,
Treat the stars with song, dance beyond stone-age doldrums,
Reverence, illuminate beating hearts, heal with the beating drums.

Magnets draw us in, t'ward each center, thy living heart,
Like exquisite fireflies, light the way, Sacred's resplendent art,
Hurry onwards! Towards e'ery tall tower, accost the narrow ledge!
Reconstruct each sun beam, shout rays of light from that neolithic edge.

Exquisitely carve, again, beyond the known realm,
Like that Grand Chieftain, reveal passage, stand firm at the helm,
Power! Forged by King and Sage and Seer, conceived by devil fire,
Sacred time invites blessed space, and this, thy own dear Shire.

Standing Stones! Arise in heaven's light! Welcome in the brilliant dawn!
Protection, standing armoured, twixt ancient legend, mocking king and pawn,
Raise up thy quarried piers, resolve worthy trust, mark mankind's human fears,
Midst stones that quaver, trial and truth laments, gurus weep, streaming joyous tears.

 What Endless Love and Joy Might Be

Take umbrage as jest toys with the rushing tide,
Let history be eclipsed by every fatal word and horrid deed,
Frost ranks high as burning embers choose their cherished side,
Political will, bound by military might, flanks every Christian need.

Opposites exchange glances, as angry night turns into doleful day,
Hindu gods rejoice while Ganesh scatters fragrant flowers along blood stained paths,
Islam mirrors fascist dances, as warriors thrust bloodied lances, into the gruesome fray,
Sultans flirt in pearl towers, pilfered tripe adorn polished Jags, midst shining golden calves.

Meek men fall into line, as rueful missions come,
Here lies the question, what prophets spoke,
King Richard raised the flag of Christendom,
War seems the answer, as scaled dragons woke.

Thought be damned, heed the word,
Temple guards, all blinded by the light,
As slothful doctrine is flung and hurled, violence unfurled,
Beyond the gates of righteousness, into the furious fight.

So ponder, what comes next?
Doth earth and sky meld as each day breaks?
Has Judaism judged every sacred text?
What if whales begin to speak, betwixt love's song, is that what lasting peace takes?

Gird your loins with peace,
Lay down your bloodied arms,
Welcome light to this glory feast,
Marvel as rainbow warriors don mystic charms.

Colour this world with glorious love,
Let truth and wisdom divinely enter,
Put away your war, remove your battle glove,
Let good hope, sweet life, dance round the sacred center.

If ebbing tides flow, then wane,
If flagrant war be ripped and torn,
If love allowed foothold and gain,
Perhaps folk might freely think, e'en speak, love's garments finally worn.

Precious love, in reality, so gaunt and fleeting,
Brotherly love, lying bleeding, by the thorny wayside,
Earthly joy cowers, inherits such a brutal beating,
As sleeping kings snore, drunk, by the warming fireside.

Gather your fragmented wits, for courageous Merlin's well is full,
Let standing forests sing, let fishes teem in thy wondrous sea,
Awake and see the light, as matadors break their swords, absolve the raging bull,
Commute folly beyond the tower gate, let dervishes twirl, pray what endless love and joy might be.

Worm Farming in the Post Modernist World (and other psychobabble)

Appeared or look at that here,
were one bill,
okay,
being,
but the more about the book,
it would work for,
well sure,
what it looks like,
cared about him,
vote because I don't feel threatened not to run,
xxxxxxx,
type stuff,
betray our friends our vistas,
just a quick what what,
now for what we're going to move your audience critical resolved,
trailer,
hasty,
ticket all old,
recovery workers,
very kind continuing shallow pools,
solution to my faithful to that is business people,
know what I used to feed these ones,
is uh . . . commenting,
heroes putting,
whether we could go I think,
heavy metal,
open it up into two worlds,
watson,
yahoo groups,
not broken donated still maneuver,
but they're working on it,
to promote here,
sturgis,
all through all the numbers must,
nearly a week,
maybe we quote him in the loop,
was stunned the world news,
political,
beholder stuff,
catalogs,
two thousand one handful,
called me and what,
don't want to do it,
is starting to be in,
posters with less,
still wet when you get down,
dundee brands or turkey harvest them,
that's where the state of,
to bail out the problems to you,
who were here where I haven't touched on yet,
next interact,
coriole,
into the,
today,
by the sword october,
charac. . . ,
acted prematurely warmth postal route,
para barbara manure,
this is fresh,
as of yesterday I was starting to go,
that we have click developed last night,
who's gonna take it,
but but in this program,
and have some worms,
uh . . . that would go along with some compost in here,
forever club,
above tacos,
texas very sa. . . ,
the orphans,
for the better stronger as well,
very good,
the recruit,
trip controller of crafting once never think,
spoiler down there,
the fact that,
our nominee one of the news,
lauren,
launched,
simpson's business loan,
and a couple of days,
welcome back,
julia,
very gross,
straight out of hell,
when the government is world,
expressing going on with welfare,
from public with the cousins on the call,
includes artists,
hard proof doll,
this one is going through all of that,
simply because,
comment,
but the kathy's don't smell at all,
bury myself to work with,
doesn't mean it's not one thirty,
somewhere within,
are losing balked,
student testimony taken materialism,
beloved what we're doing,
struggling slightly warm,
hospital number one,
broken,
was one for most of the co four years ago,
disturb thirty where,
bought off of that,
and uh . . . ,
forceful republican,
will get the field,
wants to go to a bar,
but you can see right now,
we're going with this,
always smaller rooms,
but the both motabhai see them,
believes that he wanted to,
they're like in this,
this new food,
native people involved in anything,
he was working on board,
their leaders,
political maneuver,
doesn't look like and I know,
maybe literally,
spartan networks put before they are looking for,
at the farm,
vehicle couple weeks to get through it already have,
more pressing them know what to do with,
welcome back in a couple of dates with you,
always look,
okay guys,
at uh . . . today's weather,
course of your had recommended actually,
city within certain,
you will go up,
who look like,
equivalent of three,
customers there,
uh . . . grows in accra,
and there's more to the court in at the start,
including,
but it's quicker,
personal alarms,
lauren,
who's the man there,
those menswear,
herndon virginia two of them influence,
just want to put in on the first day,
and to remember the,
the government troops to,
there's already tested,
until now,
affairs and all of these along with it,
and without buzzword reviewing,
condemned,
all of the month I think,
consisted of three,
levels drop in walked,
or if I can go that's unfair,
they're covered and on,
can't afford your own bottled water werner,
were made this,
about the girl holding her,
too,
opens fire a stick around now,
romakov the borrowers crux of the role of a problem,
but uh . . . ,
after about a weaker started their condensation,
you've got quite work,
now a fifth of the halls of stone,
pick the scope of pretty good,
middleburg here,
true,
what's up next,
okay here's what it looks like now,
who were injured and there are going to,
considers little,
little bit cicero listener,
this prints going streets doesn't it,
there's a world,
season bigger,
and the for the long-run,
it is not quite done right here with me,
pretty close,
so I'm gonna do,
close to the side,
silicon or mister lerner,
going on,
refills,
patrols will,
and it goes with the territory,
okay,
backpack,
but they were,
enough for the old want to play ball with them to do,
grant,
from org,
captain,
historical,
requested recollection.
Life in Thailand.

-----------------------------
Okay, I have to be honest with you. The above (poem, if it can be termed that) is not from my mind. I was you tubing 'worm farming' and the above script appeared on the screen (as closed captioning). It was so bizarre I had to copy it down and now I've decided to share the digital psychobabble with you. Now that you've read it perhaps you agree the world we live in is full of high strangeness and with each passing (digital) moment the galaxy revolves and resolves, sometimes making what seems sense, other times complete and utter spluttering and burble. Such is life (as we know it) in this post modernist world.  
Addendum : The title I gave this script is from my own thought on the subject. As well, the photo is mine (as all photos I post are).