it's trending strange
some of us
mentioning
remembering
past lives
even centuries
through millennia
every incarnation
so spirit strives
through inclination
time won't resist
keep on yearning
wanting to exist
needing exegesis
genesis with feeling
freedom to learn
who were you
when this world
first evolved
forever changing
involving me
novelty you
they and those
as good
mother earth
turns quantum clever
moody revolution
no ordinary life
chemistry with dissolution
we keep on trying
where were you
when Pompeii burned
what were you
when Spartacus died
our timeless resurrection
when time itself is born
this is the only way
through every incarnation
we invest to live
revelry while perfect
does regress
disheveled into elements
fragments of levels
when and how
we chose to live
how many times
we close our eyes
waking as they and those
a new born cries
wherever we chose
to live and die
reincarnation chose
being cleverly divine

              * * *

 

while I still
have flesh
on my bones
I want
to know
having blood
life transference
coursing through
constricting veins
while I still
have eyes
true light
to see
I need
to know
breathing air
general life
pumping existence
divinity invading
evolutionary lungs
while I still
have electrons
bounding around
renewed cellular matters
funicular grounding chatter
glued to lucid brain
I require intrepid
concentrated consciousness
reception's entropy
while I still
exist ascending
spiritual revolution
while I am
coherent evolution
flesh and blood and bone
so zone this
vibrational life
reverberates through time
echoing throughout space
while I still am
adherent expression
of who and what I can
considered impressions
of how
I'm human
just why
I am a man

               * * * 

 

it's not
impartial darkness
but fractal light
distracting me
it's not nothing
but practically everything
distractions creating me
what if
I never truly woke
forever fully asleep
so then
what could I feel
through it all
immediate time
adjoined by remedial space
what might I be
delightful or suffering
or is it
just like
night and day
indifference versus compassion
via love and hate
I do think
my perfectionist soul
would not stay
in such a barrage
of harried light
perhaps some
imperfect black hole
variant distilled remorselessness
carelessly even effortlessly
shall swallow me up
just like conditional
sensational darkness
consuming riveting rays
of choice inspirational light
as this world
turns always returning
each assuming day
into the very next
night after presumptive night
entreating curious texture
starry spectacular light
myriads of regal colour
such delirious structure
this creative art display
making us need to see
but what do we want
what does
darkness need
does dark night
require any light
then what is right
still life snuggled
within a struggling seed
death's eternal
reverential fight
everything wanting us
to forever change
entreating volatile light
isn't that strange
fickle darkness
marking some
ingrained place
where steady nothing
is just like silence
we readily know
something was said
echoing some deafening refrain
God's trusting contemplation
forming this and that
first common word
one profound sound
seeking some
future destination
isn't every universe
mainly void of light
isn't each retroverse
every crazy sun
just another blazing orb
yearning for realization
I don't know
what fervent light
would see
what deferential dark
might be
if reverential God
remained unreserved
yet reserving that
initial creative spark
but we
got sentient light
something undeserved
since creation
depends on sight
though insightful darkness
reserves godly right
to eventfully keep
raging suns burning
turning brave day
after each rave night
into something
we all
yearn for
even though
when we sleep
darkness can
be a stark friend
even letting one find
within one's mindful dreams
those yin sounds
of vying silence
resolving creation
that yang evolution
through unglued time
revolving around angled space
where unknown distraction
resolves enlightened absolution
absolute insightful darkness
beauty in that place
refined by mindful God
blinded by truthful light
defined by ruthless creation
still foolishly
we go and do
yet we are still
seeking grace
always unable to see
unfettered and free
that magnificent dark entity
almighty God's unseeable
divine creative face
God's unimaginable
divine wondrous place

            * * *

 

Charles Bukowski
tempted me
to cut open
all my poetry
Bukowski
Charles
swimming deep
in his deep sea
fathoms of bourbon bottles
those constant tidal sips
at times suicidal gulps
griping about human drips
imbibing alcoholic drops
less bucolic than bitter sweet
twitter words in rage-a-holic poems
sometimes homeless gritty
hitting on broken home
those ranting red flags
zones of abject tokens
anti-socially spoken
making me
sit exclamation mark upright
almost ready to bolt
or jump up to dance
even sometimes fly
what the steady hell
or is it chancy heaven
poets with their
relish and pickle poetry
embellished biscuits
sometimes void of savory
seasonally no salt
or reasonable leaven
making me
want to laugh
as well as truly cry
Jack Kerouac
remade me
doing something too
a decade long journey
then forty odd years
imagining modest zen
drunk Kerouac
taking off his monastic shoes
speaking from
between his plastic knees
while all I could do
where all I could see
are callous wasps and fallace bees
still stingers stinging
pollination at its best
my regeneration poetry
speaking about watering gardens
seeking irrigating words
mostly irritatingly rooted
locked in unmitigated war
verse clambering upward
then slipping downward
through hot hell
why can't every sky
be summer blue
why did Bukowski
rip open my flummoxed brain
how did intoxicated Kerouac
coax my optic words
to poetically burrow out
finding some vellum page
to frankly call home
if a speeding meteor struck
what would I
metaphorically write about then
maybe my destructive words
would learn to rhetorically drink
gallons of hard liquor
followed by volumes of dry wine
perhaps my crying poems
would be gallant
valiantly more
theirs and yours
even more elementary tears
more than those
raging rivers of mine
but as I vie
to crazily walk
visiting lazy alien streets
running with sharp scissors
anointed with vain poetry
more train wrecks
in my self-centred dreams
I relinquish help
but inquisitively wonder
if Bukowski and Kerouac
oddly or evenly
thought about
over or even under
thought about  
starlight or grieving thunder
I suppose
desolation peak
taught Jack K
a thing or two
I suppose they
those bums drinking
inside and outback
puking hapless words
into and out of
hopeless Bukowski's
liquored up mind
I can't help but know
I'm not being kind
but my angry poems
refuse to be
anything
but hangman blind
those jittery words
a knotted noose
tightening around
every oh and eh
which I scrawl and write
most will find
garbage and pollution
are those disturbing things
littering my gritty mind
I'm not a fit naked pole dancer
that lewd thought
of being nude on stage
makes me reel and cringe
if Bukowski would see me
he'd call me a wanna-be
like greenstick saplings
wanting to be leafy trees
so you wanna be a writer
what about gaudy and contrite
just another tawdry nobody
if Kerouac were alive
he'd call me unhinged
while my poetry calls me
a total car wreck
I somehow survived
if Leonard Cohen
were standing here
reading my stature
hallelujah
my very nature
might be readily unclear
still I steadily want to think
I'm some portion
of poetic creature
while my crusty poetry tells me
when with my tie dyed words
I must finally fall down
having tried unjustly
laughing and wanting to die
my psychedelic universe
will never be expanded
even considered or ever revived

                 * * *

 

those tendrils of love
I sometimes feel
sometimes felt
render me feeble
speechless in any event
why my emotions
leave me senseless
that avoidance action
defensive with deep feeling
leaving me twisting
reprehensible to even reeling
makes me truly wonder
why should I
open my heart
even could I
when love comes
even loudly knocking
only to tear me apart
maybe I need
to further dig into this
likely a deep hole
try to bury my fear
along with my rusty hoe
so perhaps I could stop
hilling things up
like some consistent
infested spent crop
stop allowing my being
to cower or cringe
at that providential crossroads
with love's deep feelings
revoking my residential confidence
stop thinking that cadence of words
keeping me unglued
stop thinking those sinking thoughts
making me feel like true love
can never will never be saved
let me climb out of that hole
where I buried sweet love
turgidly so very long ago
unlock that fervent trap door
to love's turbid enclave
resurrecting sweet love
letting me crawl out of love's grave

                   * * * 

 

smell that sweet
smoked moose hide
listen to mukluk silence
quaint frozen words
speaking cracking brown
spirit Weasel Woman
telling round stories
founding grounded stars
wisps of teasel legend
ancient willow nips
hand in hand with birch song
myth equipped for rising
from a sacred crackling fire
I hear that wracking drum
mons sweating slowly
ump ump ump ump ump
circling that sacred tree
Gitche Gumee dancing
watching prancing Caribou
trek slowly south from true north
skimming over undulating mounds
inculcating sound Mother Earth
allowing profound undertow
beneath canopies of truth
mystical snow falling
those mythic gentle crystals
frosting brother Wolf
surrounding winter Wolverine
white on black border
touching sister snow
caressing White Ermine
with that still
black-tipped tail
waving pageant poetry
along Winter's ice bound trail
wandering down wild river bank
hoar frost expelled
within that excellent Arctic breath
sneaking up on exceptional Ptarmigan
speaking alongside receptive Arctic Hare
such powerful sweet smoke
pawing next to antlered Moose
redeeming true life
redemption comforting People
deep dreams through igloo winter
those long cold imagined nights
Brown Weasel Woman
Borealis welcome dancing
Aurora perfect as she stands
dogsled good like ancestral snowy right
those starry celestial bright nights
whispering sweet smoke
wisps curling forever upwards
magnificently touching heaven
curled lips beneath furry nostrils
unfurled inside ice and snow caves
Brown Weasel Woman believing
that is how rival Old Man winter
tribally must insistently behave

 

 

                      * * *

 

craven mad hatters
other gutsy ghouls
stand applauding
storm troopers
action marching
parading down
numb city streets
those stomping boots
countless numbers
tromping through
crowded avenues
proud war
studiously bent
pestilent neo-nazis
occupying putsch halls
politicos dripping
with innocent blood
rationale forcefully spent
such international loathing
fashionably paints those
political stone walls
symbols of power
abhorrence once again
relishing visual harm
so residually profound
another individual round up
so fucking charming
disarming parties and masses
artfully considered less
than anything human
so things are alarming
grace is imprisoned
hate remains concentrated
mainly boundaries and camps
hence into brick gas chambers
those tricky buildings
rated as fabulous showers
once again
things are thick
this genetic farming
marking frenetic spots
where hot evil
permanently dwells
sparks lighting up those spots
merging crime with frightful murder
where unrepentant devils
those sentient fiends chortle
such a primitive guise rising
comprising mortal reticent evil
primal beyond anything
adamantly demented
rather than enlightened and deep
doctrine embodied
within another gaudy demon
those tawdry fascist portals
their man-made hell
touting grilled nazi verse
spilling tainted fascist semen
conversely stout
shouting immoral wickedness
such vain sinfulness
spouting so much
vile vicious words
those craven mad hatters
employing ghastly ghouls
shattering peace in our world
those chattering foolish hordes
deploying brutal war's tools               

                 * * *

 

what ghost is this
while we're dreaming
some conjuring
hearing voices
softly speaking
echoes of lost mysteries
imagining surety
that pageantry
of convoluted death
what daunting spirit
must surely exist
manifesting orbs
simply unrealistic
ethereal life
watch this magic
witness this world
spin and turn
while simmering light
invading grievous darkness
continues to glimmer
shimmer and recite
those tragic stories
that simply do persist
to pervade our lives
cascade through
our mystic dreams
those cryptic shadows
often accompanied
by mysterious sounds
we seem to hear
as night alludes
to our resounding fear
when we wake
those stirrings trickle
for fickle drama's sake
haunting phantoms
which take us
to supernatural realms
regard actual phantasms
where magical illusion
steers one's imagination
perhaps even to
a ghost ship helm
what if then
phantasmic dreams
allude to self
as we wander hapless
where spirits dwell
what if then
eerie spectres
consist of what
our realistic fear
afflictions of those
hair raising things
we might even see
as we walk alone
heart pounding
as we exhale
excited startled breath
glancing down
some dim hallway
unclear reflections
perhaps enigmatic death
gaudiness reflected
by a spectral ancestor's
mnemonic mirror

 

 

            * * *

 

all these
fallen angels
ripping out
human hearts
all those
fallen angels
tearing out
mortal souls
every storm in heaven
disrespectful craving
every rave in hell
never allows us
to be truly well
each brutal war
no one
could ever win
where lasting hatred
forever dwells
each fatal car crash
we were relationally in
where brutal pain
and ruthless harm
was all we felt
all that trying fire
vying deep inside
consuming dreams
hope dreamed
at desirous times
real life is never
what it really seems
as fallen angels
commit horrid crimes
happiness it seems
is nothing but
some glorious myth
love it seems
is nothing but
an inglorious rhyme
if life's laborious storm clouds
every truly clear
then there's something
cruelly abnormal
about what
we do and did
yet there's nothing
charmingly normal
about me
or you
all these
fallen angels
surrounding all
of us
all those
fallen angels
profoundly harassing
even raging
crazy throughout
every immoral age
maybe glorious God
just doesn't care
perhaps true heaven
is no longer there
if we should ever
finally learn
to love and fly
if God's fallen
ruthless angels
ever have enough
truthful courage
to make amends
maybe human fools
shall rediscover
perfect love
but all that
certainly depends
on all this
hurtfully resentful
hate and dread
we carry with us
in our very hearts
being verily buried
in our crowded heads
when we're fencing
with that proud devil
when we're trying
to save our souls
weather constant war
trying to forever cope
with monstrous evil
while demon angels
appallingly want
eternal loveless hate
crawling onto
every galling level
driving hope
casting depraved love
into painful holes
tearing rabid life
into painful bits
along with human us
making sure
we're never whole
when covetous Satan
tries to catch us
viciously bury us
on voracious battlefields
blood soaked avaricious
trenches of love and war
maybe some purity
will finally reach us
when ascended angels
auspiciously reappear
curatively teach us
openly more
maybe jammed love
can truly guide us
pure light opening
love's damned door

           * * *

 

love must be
weakness
love must be
wrong
all these
broken hearts
speaking
broken words
singing broken
songs
love is
mostly abject
love is
surely cruel
forever
bleeding me
always
bleeding you
what if
needy love
truly
seemed to care
what if
greedy love
always
truly dared
what then
my love
would we want
to share
my dearest
friend
what would
sweetness be
what fleeting
goodness
would we
find to do
what then
could love
ever be
what caring
should we
ever really do
gathering up
what's left
of love
with all
its shattered
pieces
place all
those
scattered shards
seal them
into fractured jars
bury all
that hurtful lot
deep
in consecrated ground
if love
completely
disappeared
who would
ever notice
if we
weren't born
with true emotions
forlorn and tears
surely love
could forever
leave us
perhaps
wretched darkness
will let love
finally rest
maybe attest
to blessed earth
perhaps
when some future
loving someone
uncovers love's
lasting stains
discover
with that
broken
our crushing
forever pain
forgiveness
might be
found
maybe one
altruistic day
understanding
will finally
be revealed
then finally
come around
admit compassion
isn't just
some word
that is
insane
while some
true passion
altogether excavate
selfless love
those bloodied remains
above and beyond
all our weak
and cruel
loveless painful hate

           * * *

 

so this is where we live
where rivers run with blood
this is where we've gone
from where megaliths
once boldly stood
when sunset finally ends
that last ray of blessed light
disappearing from our lives
we'll realize we weren't right
maybe as oceans forever rise
flooding each and every shore
our clever dreams
will no longer
be severely faulty
or unrepentantly disguised
as each brilliant star goes out
signaling more universal cries
you know incorruptible God
has once again ruptured
letting all his demons out
knowing we have failed
creating our own dire hell
those dogs of total war
are running completely loose
chaos is what we see
eternal danger is what we smell
no matter now infernally hard
we all might pray
no matter what
we now might ultimately choose
everything we thought we knew
is wrought and done now
everything we bought and know
will soon be gone now
somehow God will keep
his universe separate
from what we think and do
somehow out there
there still should be
God's blessed sacred cow
when all your skin
simply sloughs away
when your disbelieving eyes
go completely dim
what a sight it will be
as we all writhe and scream
careening into mythical grim
conclusively falling over
permanent hell's delicious rim
into that malicious scene
where destructive fire
justifiably completes us
terminating once and for all
our historic gall
and inceptive cheat
surrounded with our careless sin
because of what
we've deceptively done
because of where
we've always been

             * * *

 

so you tossed your life
into some deep pit
you carelessly flew
into a raging wildfire
so what about
that deep pain
your broken heart feels
those ragged rocks
your nagging soul hit
maybe jumping off
love's precipitous cliff
was a mistake after all
maybe that slump and rift
we tripped and stumbled on
was some great warning
if only at that time
our eyes had been open
before all that irreverent harm
ripped our hearts out
chewed up your soul
shackled you with wrong
while our universe
ferociously screamed alarm
at first we thought
it all was charming
but now you know
those loving things
you wanted to say
but somehow couldn't
those desperate things
you needed to do
but simply wouldn't
perhaps our words
overtly washed away
with those terrifying rip tides
constantly dragging us under
so much remorseless treachery
based in that wretched undertow
all that coarse rock and sand
eroding endless grooves
scarring your floundering soul
perhaps that tragic day
when your broken body
washed up stranded
on another distant shore
if I could have survived
we would have realized
that love and life
should have given us
something true and more
maybe if we
would have had
a little more time
even if just
one more day
my undying love
would have proved
what true love
would have had
to honestly do
and truly say
beyond bereft
and our dying day

            * * *

 Haiku for the World

so much fire inside
have you ever felt such fear
that you might just die

-----------------------

was must always be
omnisonic vibration
tuning into life

----------------------

insanity rules
we drink our cups of poison
cruel love aspires too

----------------------

           * * *

 

as I travel
forever deeper
adventure really
into Divinity's hidden
even forbidden
House of the World
Domus Mundi
celestial sparks
bright white
cosmic tendrils
light enraptures me
something right
truly rapture I see
I heard a knock
at my closed door
I was openly surprised
it was mostly you
speaking my name
wrapping your ghost arms
around my invested soul
spirit capturing me
you've been dead now
for a dozen years
but there you were
smiling and laughing
through a flood of tears
beyond washing away
so much gaunt sorrow
revealing daunting forever
what comes tomorrow
my open eyes
just could not see
your shimmering
electric face
through those sparks
an aura with tendrils
from that Holy place
what dream is this
from what cosmic space
God grants us Heaven
on our timeless race
opens that shining door
to the House of the World
with such loving grace
I forgive you he said
I forgive you too
was my burnished reply
so God forgives us
I said with a sigh
yes God does forgive us
for those trying sins
we've carelessly done
he spoke about bliss
without closing his eyes
my friend don't forget this
there's light in forgiveness
there's Divine in that mystery
transcendence and Holiness
when everything dies

              * * *

                                           Haiku Monday

 

 

their geometry
just doesn't make sense to me
things just don't add up

----------------------

life is suffering
there is always so much pain
before each ending

-----------------------

in this time of war
always remember one thing
true peace opens doors

 

-----------------------

 

all this sadness
birds sing about now
such sorrowful
melancholy tones
wond'ring just why
even just how
how could this be
sun still shines
but not with gladness
its rays are torment now
can you hear that moaning
each desperate morning
a separate sigh
even just how
could all this sadness be
maybe this world
has lied to us
pretending to be
something it never was
contending to something
it can never truly be
I hear God laughing
pointing an electric finger
another cosmic thunderbolt
striking eclectic mother earth
measuring every wretched sea
why are we so distressed
maybe it's this whole bloody mess
those cruddy things we've done
letting so many birds
disappear and slip away
species gone forever
no sweet bird song
on the coming day
what if the sun gave up
deciding it had had enough
what if the moon
suddenly departed
what would we think
what then would we see
when crushing darkness started
maybe fish want to tell us something
maybe the moon lost its courage
maybe then we'll truly realize
maybe God too is disparaged
it's too late to wake up
trying to make something
other than what else up
it's too late for us
wounds are apparent
our planet is bleeding
birds have stopped singing
things earth is needing
in our needy dreams
we are reeling
what do you imagine
sad birds are feeling
maybe the sea knows
maybe trees know
something about real truth
once bees are all gone
we'll see that giant
ruthless hole in our roof
sadly God won't help us
disappearing birds are proof
trees aren't surprised
by this new age doom
oceans themselves
now know
nothing but gloom

             * * *

 

our ruminating minds
enjoying linear
that intrinsic
employing lines
a geometric grind
some inner kind
though naturally
actually egocentric
but not completely blind
our diametric beings
investing in cubes
yet scribing circles
still we rely
on revolving
on spinning rectangles
what about evolving
ancient woman/man
lying by a roasting fire
chewing bits of this
that fresh bloody zebra
hunters vying for flesh
high caloric
that central part of umbra
everyone cloaked
in furry animal attire
always in and out
no cave door
those prehistoric
hallowed cave lives
stories about meandering
clans to tribes
Neanderthal intuition
constitutional wandering
that nomadic tradition
traditional angles
restitution pandering
more than romantic arcs
sometimes stark mind
that human ark condition
creating looming triangles
groomed objects
become objectives
kayaks carved by ulu
sometimes seasonal
grazing into starving
becomes earthy
stalwart art
tipis drug by dogsled
sometimes muggled words
there's always that
walrus tusk part
becoming hopeless
those musk ox
even ivory dreams
once so savory
is all we've got
circles into boxes
or so it seems
storied hand prints
laborious imprints
on stony Uluru
enchanted moans
glorious chants
from that ancient centre
taking a sacred stance
painting earth tones
living eccentric songlines
scribing sentient zones
so are we more
than wandering artists
justly squarely set
as geometric minds
or is this hectic
daily terror
a being question
are we more
than some
questionable error
harried into nothing
that is all
perhaps we are
some crazy tiger fare
yet this current faze
our human session
being thought creation
perhaps wrought intuition
or merely imagination
so unsurely
who we are
why does
my third eye
see that
feathered bird half
a cellular measure
of who we are
one first thought
simple human desire
too second thought
our tired being
sometimes viewed
as too screwed up
population so disassembled
resembling cursed
yet truly thankful
when reassembled
submersed in duly being
just rehearsing alive
sometimes subscribing
trying cursive
in kind thinking
too something
as mind derives
yet something intuition
computing both
truth and lies
institutional moods
that human kind
gladly finding spirit
purely existential lives
sometimes residential
still sadly thinking
surely tap and die
soundly tinkering
with new found threads
roundly living squarely
within verily
we truly find
some grand design
every vying thinking kind
sometimes emotional and crying
sometimes stinking and irrational
sometimes actually very bad
still humanly mad about
our illuminating
anthropomorphic mind

              * * *

 

must I try
must I see
when so much love
is so well loved
by both
you and me
Diotima said it best
as Socrates prayed
for blessed rest
while Phaedrus
talked and walked alone
about seeing heaven
about finding home

         * * * 

 

what a show
all these ears
so many eyes
those tainted lips
such ghastly cries
revolting measures
bravery and dread
severed heads
bloodied hair
so many
vibrant highs
rich icing
if you dare
too many
stagnant lows
still all those
lost wand'ring souls
who would
ever care
bandura and balalaika beats
reverb time through space
meteoric missile flairs
cultural introspective comedy
skeletons of prehistoric bones
anomalies in cave bear lairs
permafrost encasing mastodons
collective covert ideas
herbivores eating carnivores
omnivores dining with political ideals
more ridiculed instigation
all those psilocybin trips
all those revolutionary poetry slips
psychedelia and more
stark psychic me
rooted beside
some war torn
cratered country road
a vodka battle later
where I found
a worn out penny
impound that foreign coin
slight in my scornful slot
rightly that core piece
of pounded copper
a scorned penny
assault and battery
is all
we ever got
round and round
emulating dulcet drowning
glorious revolutionary story
history book fashion
war makes me
constitute nefarious passion
peace escapes us
even though
that insurgent music
vibrates through us
urgent love teaches
constant revolving war
confrontation's ultimate clashes
involves proving compassion
rashly mutating godly love
generating mindless glory
wielding an iron fist
emulating an armoured glove
mitigating stodgy war
such imbecilic ruthlessness
oddly imitating truthfulness
riveting raw tribulation
revering despot law
delivered in human
horrific fashion

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