muse
dance
sing
music
swing
songs
stomp
harmonize
stomping
big beats
drums
banging
stomping feet
musical
cut a rug
cymbals
tinging
lyrics
singing
in tune
good vibes
bells
ringing
dancing tribe
intermingling
tingling
solo voice
hands raised
fingers
all that
finger wagging
inner fire
soul muse
flames
fiery souls
arising
sparking
engaging
sparkling
vibration
tagging
old time
ragging
rag time
music fazes
staging
raging
new age
into song
people singing
emotions dancing
vibration creating
people romancing
dreaming being
tribal reeling
heart and soul
what we're feeling

         * * *

 

I see
you wearing
your second skin
I've watched
incendiary you
light up
all those
magic places
where we
all of us
have been
you are
openly bearing
your magical
mystical self
along with
your mystical kin
bravely wearing
all that tragic
yet marvelous
magic skin
we're all in

      * * *

 

holy crow
it's suddenly
nineteen eighty four
only it's
forty years later
holy red cow
what we see
has landed
upon our varied shores
only it seems like mostly
foreign danger
holy white raven
what if the sun
won't rise for ever more
it's brother moon
who has been shaken
to its sacred core
holy white buffalo
such is sacredness
forever more
God's graciousness
filling spacious creation
thus those holy
true love and more
yet human folly
black drones
God's omnipotence
didacting imitation
mark those king's castles
fortified bunkers and towers
seeking domain
two thousand twenty five
gaining power
ungodly drones
everywhere now
cameras and I phones
still somehow
that holy red cow
damn this recurrent
nineteen eighty four
that holy white whale
in its droning
deep sea world
sea through sky
of droning drones
what dawning soul
that holy white buffalo
beyond urgent big brother
universally learned creation
beyond depressed and immoral
beyond tragic perversion
of yearning civilization

             * * *

 

 

adamant war
that madness
part of mad men's
ultimate reason
gloomy outlook
who delivers
utmost treason
maximum people
over population
just too many
gloomy rooms full
of compulsive people
more social gore
more sadness invading
this startled season
every feasible cranny
every abysmal nook
ultra-rich people creating
those damnable crooks
we're under that
giant cold thumb
either bold economy
war's novel copulation
just too many weapons
simply too many deadly arms
desperate into death
what's left for more homeless people
fentanyl survival views
just too many
hopeless people
population that is screwed
every single nation
or some other variation
such detrimental trauma
by this uncivilized world
as so much fucking war
is ultimately unfurled

           * * *

 

life has so many
hard parts to it
right from those
painful beginnings
being squeezed out
of our mother's birth canal
at that point in time
life isn't fitting us
like that warm fluid womb
or mother's soft vaginal glove
we really don't see or understand
at that juncture in life
we only truly yearn and feel
for our mother's warm and tender love
all those harmful times
as kids and youngsters
accidental falling down
incidental bruising knees
getting those small cuts
being deeply scratched
by sharp things and other flaws
like your kitty cat's prickly claws
then we have to endure
those hard times that hatched
growing up unsure
going to school
where other kids
other youngsters sure
might push us around
tease us
pull our hair
then we cry
as a momentary cure
then we wonder why
so much hurt out there
suddenly those teenage years
when we begin to discover
that opposite sex
that puberty thing
can we ever recover
shackled with all those crazy fears
so immaculately confusing
so heartbreaking at times
stacked up with hormones raging
teenage hearts breaking
young minds racing
trying to figure things out
trying to find out who we are
what we are
how we fit in
when at times we sin
how we don't
life is hard
but life has its sweet
in those magical hours
those sweetest of dreams
then all those hurt feelings
times when our pride is wounded
if we get through all that
without giving up
without giving in
without becoming dumbfounded
maybe we find the courage
to carry on with life
carrying all that baggage
along with misguided steerage
as muddled young adults
climbing saddle backed mountains
discovering wondrous things
falling into addled love
again so much hurt and pain
falling out of fad and love
at times so many torrential tears
maybe we find that soul mate
or we settle for someone
we might be able to live with
making long term plans
hoping for some very best
those long time wishes
those heartfelt dreams
though it often seems
wishy-washy life is difficult
life is hard and trying
we try and try
sometimes we cry and cry
maybe we end up all alone
no loving partner
no making that loving family
suddenly after our testy thirties
we wake up in our distressing forties
some of us suddenly panic
realizing life is passing us by
life is some whirlwind
we never truly expected
or ever foolishly wanted
life might taunt us
making us ghoulishly feel
things that make us wonder why
things that make us too often cry
still most of us continue to try
try and try and try
into our trying fifties
those after mid-life years
when saturated reality sets in
when things become so damn real
we might start seeing some difficult end
we might begin wishing
we had lived something completely different
in our listing sixties
old age begins creeping in
things are shifting and aching
our bodies begin complaining
what now old girl and guy
things are definitely sagging
deary me and my oh my
our brains might begin lagging
maybe we drank too much
perhaps we smoked up all those years
what if things had been different
what if our dreams had come true
suddenly we turn seventy
what a shock that can be
if you haven't done
what you thought you might
what you imagined you would
your life can become a little twisted
your view of days and nights
can become undone
finally if we're amongst those lucky few
we might reach into eighty
when old age has taken hold
robbed our shaking lives
with so some hurt and pain
right out of that constant black and blue
looking around you
what did you do
why can God be so cruel
still we might go on
some wake up in their nineties
perhaps because we prayed to some deity
maybe prayers mean nothing
what if God doesn't exist
what if life has no meaning
maybe by that elephant age
having grown big ears and long nose
we've seen some divine light
feeling decrepit having broken that one long tooth
each slow step and constant struggle
even breathing can be hard
especially if we've consumed
too much refined sugar and deep fried lard
at that elderly age
we likely look around
seeing all that senseless youth
relentlessly bouncing up and down
maybe it looks degrading
maybe it seems rather uncouth
learning lessons we learned too
but in our ancient nineties
most of our friends are gone
we inevitably end up with so very few
when we still manage to dream
even about all those magic things
as we continue to live
our sometimes tragic lives
but still somehow
this frantic world turns
pathic days arrive
transforming into telepathic night
just like on this mystical planet
where magic seeds sprout and grow
where untold measures of flowers bloom
where treasured winds sometimes blow
life is and has a long and varied list
of excessive trial and garrulous error
challenges and tears
we must try to overcome
so many nightmares and fears
who knows how or what
perilous life will be
sometimes a complete disaster
sometimes for those lucky ones
we get through plucky life
feeling like all those cards we were dealt
might be considered really good
maybe life was administered
as something almost fair
maybe on our last day
we'll see that dark side
revealing the other side of sister moon
maybe on our final other day
we'll understand what in lovely life
had been for us honest few
all those menial things
that had been good for us
even certainly meaningful
and advantageously true

                    * * *

 

Haiku Wednesday

living with your life
enjoying your hurt and pain
we go on giving

         * * * 

category one
ultra super storms are here
category five

         * * *  

climb inside the mouth
writers speaking dialogue
let's see what comes out

         * * * 

that fire inside us
incinerating our souls
so into the void

          * * * 

more more more more more
more more more more more more more
more more more more more

           * * * 

 

there they are
three tarantulas
perhaps five
maybe more
living with us
skulking along
unmolested indoors
down on Claude street
two dusty tattered rugs
one atop its musty other
on that crusty lounge room floor
covering up some ancient history
even lovely carnal mystery
Choy and Django
are hovering there with us
lovers you and I
no matter where we go
we sit next to each other
staring at your outdoor garden
moving just outside
your Armidale door
there they are
those tall eucalypts
you planted them all
grand neighbours
alongside your Canadian maple
under that attentive
storied Australian sky
you sit smoking
drawing your slim legs up
like a yogini
or are you manifesting
a sage bushwoman
or a bodhisattva
you readily drinking
your heady black tea
nirvana sips
between samsara puffs
of awakening smoke
I sit there
what thinking takes
about red kangaroos
and brown snakes
dreaming about
how we were
about how we are
making love last night
as I drink that
gawd awful
powdered brown
that tinned cheap
Australian instant coffee
we watch all
those magnificent birds
as they brilliantly flutter about
from tribal eucalypt
to medicinal eucalypt
we are strangled
by our medicine dreams
all that imposing love
so impossibly tangled in that
resplendent web we weave
I'm dancing in a streaming world
walking my dreaming songlines
beneath that fond Southern Cross
while we're naked and dancing
romancing at our Woodstock
thinking I should
drink black tea
like I once did
in far-off Yukon
all those years
way back in 1974
it was still bitter
coffee in distant 1973
when Christmas Evans
with friendly Jimmy Teszay
mystified twenty-year old John Gleshka
and twenty-year old sidled me
ancient consensual stories
about goldrush residential Atlin
where some old prospector fellows
paid a local dance hall girl
one of those mellow
ladies of the night
adorned and unfurled in all
her frightful goldrush glory
paid to sprint naked
down main street
way way back
in those dirty 1930's
so we two young men
listening to those two old Yukon boys
drank strong tea
laughing together
sitting by that smoking
hot wood burning stove
settled in that green
pine wood shack
wood that was green and damp
out at that frosty
Skookum Jim camp
while we read
lost between lines
amongst those costly paragraphs
columns in Yukon News
a small volume in that Whitehorse Star
those 1974 newspaper views
inked headlines about
some new-age streaker
running unfazed and naked
down Whitehorse front street
a 1970's stage of Yukon fun
in that cold bold spring
old Tis and I
smoked rollies
drinking strong black tea
made with snow water
Yukon bushman's best tea
Tis always said
John and I agreed
Jimmy sat quiet
mostly quite silent
his native Teslin nature
tribal for sure
but you and I together
dreaming an awkward future
up on Claude street
we couldn't stay
silence wasn't where we'd meet
we had so much
love to share and words to say
carving continental landscapes
into each other's heart and soul
marvelous stories and rhymes
between those poetic times
when we so often
made passionate love
our lasting moans
so many orgasmic groans
leaving us dripping
wet and out of breath
love talking with us
primal walking along
our breathless songlines
while three or five
or even more alive
being quite serious
that is no lie
tarantulas keeping us
delirious in spider company
beneath your loving
brilliant Australian sky

             * * *

 

so that hanged man
that number four
from one to ten
reckless as it may seem
redacted if that plan is met
yet sincerity strung up
hanging between sanctified stars
revealing some sacred curtain
dancing between planets
some synchronous holy string
that hanging man thing
connecting truant earth
to rumbling Jupiter
directed by fiery Mars
we grumble too much
fumbling through this universe
eventually that hanged man
will devour all those numbers
then fall asleep forever
in some blessed systematic slumber
like a lamb of God
nestled beside its godly mother
in that heavenly meadow
where sweet grass
caressing healing herbs
are truly laid out
for pastoral measure
where sweet dreams
content with God's love
freshened with glorious water
where eternity comes
to show itself
so at least
across those sacred seas
that upside down
storied hanged man
invoking number four
will and willing
that is what
he finally sees

           * * *

 

on that last day
when glaciers
have melted
when rivers
have burst
eroded banks
on that last day
those fluid things
where we discover
walking on water
when every stick
blessed incense
triumphantly has burned
diminished to ash
embracing self-immolation  
rising sacred smoke
above every tree
that has fallen
finally resting
on sacred ground
on that last day
when every ocean
roars with laughter
when every sea
cries salty tears
full of contempt
finding redemption
beyond our fears
on that last day
when all our dreams
contemptuous and redemptive
blissfully perish
notions disappeared
where every child
fails in time
avails every wayside
on that last day
regaled sister moon
decides her lunacy
is an only option
when mother sun
refuses to shine
declines to rise
leaving us
with no advice
light is neither yours
such blessedness
rightly neither mine
on that last day
when God comes
insightfully reminding us
that love lost
is a fatal cost
Shiva has died
a reflective cost
Jesus replied
simply because
every previous day
we amply failed
refused to give
life enlightened
God's Holy cause
on that final day
we shall pause
finally find
awareness is creation
boundless nature
sacredness within divination
on that last day
chop wood
carry water
being enlightened
chop wood
carry water
on that final day
shed all expectation
simply meditation
so fulfill creation's
holy destination
on that last day
when we're dancing
on our own
on that final day
when lights go down
where we finally arrive
back at home 

          * * * 

 

last time
I close
my mouth
never ever
eat again
that last time
I take
my breath
never breathe
ever again
last time
I see
wondrous sky
never marvel
try again
that last time
I touch
some precious
never kiss  
luscious lips
ever again
that last time
I step to walk
this blessed
lustrous earth
ever wonder
about what
never ponder
life time worth
that last time
prophetic words
I truly hear
dream heaven
that last time
dreaming earth
I seamlessly close
searching eyes
never again wonder
teach pure soul
never again
even one last
reaching time
as I fall
beseech grave again
ever rise again
envision cosmic light
know for sure
love has faith
know cold death
that final cure
where we'll find
bold sacred light
as kind is pure
where we'll see
true perfect love
where worth is sight
beyond earthly day
perfect cosmic light
rounding into night
that sacred time  
where profound heaven
reveals something sure
where every thing
and all is right

          * * *

 

I'm seeing
just me
some old dog
just being
fleas and all
eating alone
folded under
living bark
on my own
beneath a crown
of frown and crinkle
outrageous wrinkled
lichen under a canopy
of brilliant
twinkling stars
every single thing
mother earth
feeling and encouraging
ring and crest
a courageous tree
at best final
tall growth
into fallen log
each precious
standing forest
outstanding
very special life
that stands content
forever true
truly earnest
but surely
I am
just one
amongst many
one of just a few
being here
seeing now
fearsome matter
just like
brilliant Saturn
beckoning light
even contritely
revolutionary Mars
some atoning hermit
reckoning with insistence
heedful man
I'm just
sleep alone
I must be tired
needful too
someone old
a worn out bull
not many wants
yet those haunting
human desires
still haunt me
I'm still awake
for awhile
dreaming endlessly
sometimes heavenly
sometimes even sensibly
I'm hemmed up
in mystic richness
richly remembering
my upward style
still that
sweet desire
a living trend
no boundaries
without a fight
freely tempered
no actual raging
free of contempt
imagine seriously
my age fulfilled
I'm still having
seven reckoning points
duly glistening
towering antlers
horns of plenty
my bull elk response
so speaking openly
nature's resource
blowing up balloons
glowing and rising steadily
adventurous playing
seriously plucking
my existential harp
even more readily
those twenty inches
such splendid ivory
no resentful worries
concerning power
but hard yearning
integral signs
steadily maturing
alongside  evolving nature
forever outside
our revolving sun
nature brooding
flooding life
with torrential showers
this old man
our crying moon
signing and sighing
while planning
superfluous dying
my shining war tines
all life's fissures
I'm forever scanning
forever measuring
raw red issues
just not just a fed up
old dog and man
steadily plowing
I'm replanting
old ideas
old demands
but now I'm done
evidently furrowed
burrowing beneath
ancient cornfields
there are those
mournful stories
scornfully describing
sorry cold slurry
I'm melting ice cubes
conscripting cold winter
bring on dripping icicles
hear my bold warning
gripped by glacial
something residual
nature's ancestral time
yet I'm marveling
thinking about spring
where I'm digging roots
where I'm even more
such marvelous digging
cultivating deep furrows
always delineating
forever infiltrating
sweet tilth within
my wealthy garden mind
admiring that health
conspiring with tall delphinium
what sublime religion
reading violet's short poems
singing assorted psalms
consorting with fortified prayers
bundled within immortal
all that chaos
all that calm
some where
I've been
now clearly
inside and outside
wearing my poetic coat
warmly reframed
by divisional winds
I'm forever swearing
wearing blameless
rubber boots
shameless stalkers
my barn and garden walkers
with grassy roots attached
all that fibrous stalk
medicine with herbs
tinctured monk spells
recipes of relevant verbs
compelling orders
of sweet swollen plums
another holy row
of ripening red rhubarb
tall stalks that show
truly something officinalis
what gorgeous
herbal glow
all that flowing verbal
beautiful showy flowers
residential tradition
I'm smelling it all
still just dwelling
some condition
just an old codger
glistening too
listening to intentional stuff
every lost mystery
grieving lost earth birds
mourning lost ornithology
mother earth's feathered species
so what is left
whether wrong or rightly
hopefully prayers arresting
demanding extinction
but once again
I'm an old dog
without saying
I'm wishing
praying for something
framing a better world
instead of that
other frayed one
some coming future
more or less
dumbfounded and bereft
clearly it seems
I'm wired
sired by that
old dog tone
remaining entirely
tirelessly unmuzzled
invested in buzzing
best at expressing
a shell and seed game
what's under
shell number one
my old garden blunders
shell number two
storms of fire and  thunder
more moral exposure
shell number three
reposed with goats and cattle
always raging on
ranging daily
tying up runner beans
my saviour
weaving palm fronds
for daily wages
a flavoured scene
that fruitful act
full moon
actually clarifying
every tactful night
so I wonder
what now
could it be
more wonderful
 but everything
seems broken
my civilized life
continually refurbished
burnished with
some human charm
still while I stand
disarmed and staring
investigating what
seems alarming
yet I nearly
always trust
hope to see
some cryptic sign
must be mystical
perhaps just
an optical thing
if not marvelous
something still
like obvious
this old man
carving up old dreams
still should I confess
could you meet me
maybe somewhere
perhaps half way
we'd share things
comparative me
unto miraculous you
we'd climb heaven's stairs
find those treasured things
amongst collective surety
resurrect with clarity
something purely
yours and mine
time surely
has come
to define
heaven's purity
even through
indefinite obscurity
let's not fear
living within
every ancient
old man theme
I'm squinting
I still want to see
down every mystic road
within every mystical scheme
I'm cupping my hand
behind my one half
my other deaf ear
I'm admiring
deferential creation
through all
these inspirational seasons
each with its own reasons
all this consternation
hovering below
those brilliant constellations
stars into words
magnifying galaxies of sound
something fully profound
retelling ancient stories
universal diamonds and gold
behold bold science
all this unfolding
worlds of glory
unreservedly painting
rainbows and spectrum
all over my unabashed
old man ways
remission eclipsed me
scripting elliptical
encrypted verse
smelters forging
irreversible things
I'm sold
on gold and silver
befitting all that glinting
consecrated and descriptive
primordial sound
resonating bliss
something I found
conversely reverberating
clearly inwardly me
outwardly knowing
inner old man
even onwardly
my obstinate ways
ascending mountainous plans
amending old man miles
recovering from avalanches
occasionally discovering
even stellar smiles
those seasonal frowns
I'm just an old dog
crazily laying down
lazily sitting around
unphased I'm listening
displaced rocks are talking
I want to be
in that special place
somewhere
over hearing
life's conversations
atone with long lost lover's
gather every version
of life's love stories
recover some
of love's glory
so I'm weathered
yet I'm delivered
still I'm alone
immeasurably
all those old bones
buried in old mother earth
I'm in with that
whether or not
home in that zone
I'm inhaling
regaling legend
exhaling narratives
all that sedimentary
elementary stories
chapters upon layers
from birth to death
ones falling from heaven
duality and harmony
relating to tone
reflecting precious glory
lighting pathways
revolutions of worth
contextual enlightenment
there's old man in that
living a mulberry morais
on how to find home
morally I get relentless
I cry and moan
always try to imply
intelligence and inference
deference replying
those old man morals
just living and dying
that intentional crust
so it comes
a must experience
trusted education
residual guiding
showering us
adorning justice
with how to be
for God's sake
reason knows us
enraptured by meditation
each bloom
every lotus flower
captured with each incarnation
growing and floating
on top of
my glowing lake
envy is flowing
watching you and me
old dogs and old men
dreaming for dream sake
all that precious cream
such delightful inspiration
touching insightful stories
all that mystic legend
ancient mystery
mythic solitude
entangling vicissitude
old dogs and old men
history and gratitude
involving songlines
resolving insolvency
refining life lines
defining evolution
unraveling ley lines
all those significant
sacred things
admirably traveling
into that remarkable unknown
resolved with solvent water
old dogs and old men
all that resolvent fire
involving divinity and spirit
old dogs walking
sacredly alone
enraptured by old tricks
fixed with true dignity
my old man escapist desire

                  * * *