now
we are
digging 
our own
graves
some day
soon
we will
bury
ourselves deep
lost
in unholy
ground
what choice
might
we have
before
all cherished
light
goes out
one
last time
grant
us patience
good
will help
us
some day
finally
find sacred
shovel
a holy
place
integral space
where
we will
lay
deep within
mother
our earth
finally
one time
perhaps
all our
dreams
aren't so
happy
after all
maybe
god will
remotely
come take
our
feeble hand
lead
us all
home
to that
sacred
where place
does
virtual holy
abound
so let
us
still dig
deeper
keep digging
our
troubled world
dream
let us
dream
that sacred
place
where justice
purity
absolute tranquility
most
of us
want
to be
when
we are
finally
one day
found
in that
deep
cold grave
where
eternity keeps
saves
our memories
so
completely profound

         * * * 

 

this celibate
carnal mind
what is there
to celebrate
with that revelated
animal kind
what if
faith and belief
truly elevated
with all that
unengaged kind
if that sacred
imagined egg
remained unbroken
universal outline
remained unattached
never fertilized
remained unhatched
what might 
this planet be
a molten site
an uncertain place
grinding contrite
folding rocks
where tectonic plates
meet drifting sand
where sightless God
naturally left
creation unadorned
void of concept
never ever left 
a vital living mark
just barren nature
forever touching
a sterile world
carnal creation
never raising
its revelated
praising hand
God's elevated
revelating finger
never creating
sentient life
out of holy water
refracting sacred light
never celebrating
abstract life
into earthbound man
nothing righteous
a mindless state
besides drifting
tectonic plates
and those
celibate rifts
of barren sand

        * * * 

 

so you think
you have
your answer
but so does
your brother
so your mother
remains silent
with her prayers
as your father
bends to rent
his gathered shirt
tear out
what is left
his tattered doubt
so you think
those words
some rant and shout
you think
they somehow
truly mattered
you hear
pretentious garble
relentlessly pouring
intentionally down
some so called
holy mountainside
where truly
sacred water
seeks holy ocean
mixed and stirring
those holy words
you thought
you heard
even thought
you understood
but tortured blood
my contentious brother
is something
you should
always respect
communicate compassion
deliver peace
with soulful passion
truly empathize
in every dialect
find that
real caring
still can exist
within your heart
your precious soul
peace and love
humanity my friend
is living there
real truth
and precious love
beyond all this
wretched human
collective despair

         * * * 

 

something deep
inside me
being self
some where
deep within
my lonesome
hermit self
I keep
determinedly searching
looking for
my intentional
true self
maybe someday
I'll find
play out
me conventionally 
knowing all
that I
concurrently along
am me
just myself
so see
trusting something
blew into
my world
from some
distant place
giving me
fortunately new
this open
third eye
granting me
this reflective
internal view
so as
I breathe
I see
reflecting myself
I find
meditative dreams
so my
contemplative life
all this
collective colour
all this
introspective mind
such deep
ethereal sea
relieving blind
so still
firmly believing
I see
true self
in words
I write
my garden
where that
spirit grows
all this
blessed fruit
sacred creation
teaches us
explicit me
my inner
breathing life
something progressive
growing right
sowing introspective
expressive light
some thing
that is
marvelously free         

         * * * 

 

stupid stupid
stupid war
stupid people
go to stupid war
war makes people
more stupid
more and more
just plain stupid
stupid stupid stupid
stupid more
stupid rubble
stupid trouble
stupid stupid
stupid gore
if no one went
there would be
a lot less stupid
stupid stupid war

         * * * 

 

so I laughed
when you 
tore me apart
I was hysterical
when you 
threw me
to those
hungry dogs
what if I
wasn't trapped
always shackled
to this forlorn
maybe I would
laugh hysterically
at what delirium
is simply left
of my torn sky
atmosphere plummeting
down to solid
destructive ground
if only love
would be instructive
whatever should
I ever
constructively do
if I could
surely commit
invest and remit
manifesting fire
ultimately redirect
insanity in my life
my careless desire
share and reconnect
fashionably darling
to something
I could laugh at
rationally disconnect
from everything
I laugh at hysterically
since all that
raucous desire
is never cautious
sometimes even dire
when you throw me
to your pack of dogs
when you tear me up
shackling me forever
to your clever gods
when you laugh
as I ignite myself
into yet another
raging fire
I can't help 
but bother
wearing grief's attire
to wonder
why laughing
is that odd sign
of something
truly amiss
something that is
truly broken
something that is
really trying
even those
argent words
that have
been spoken
laughing raucously
words that
wound us up
grinding us
founding madness
with love's
marginal tokens
we end up
wrapped in sadness
always bleeding
we wake up
broken and crying
some mystical
newly found
unsound revelation
laughing maniacally
while rapture
grips us
as we always
end up dying
so as I toss
my broken heart
beyond grief
that raging sea
I still wonder why
it couldn't have been
just love my darling
enveloping both of us
navigating true devotion
entranced by love
that blue deep sea
passion embracing
both of us
together love
just you and me

        * * * 

 

if I thought
I possibly could
maybe I'd see
things differently
when I say
I viably might
perhaps my dreams
will come true
as I take
that conceivable step
without stumbling
on that multitude
of dangerous cracks
what would this
exacting universe
eventually say
speak about
real truth
asking illumination
to finally come
where things
arrive whole
instead of broken
lives and poems
needing some sort
of essential revelation
but what if
it constantly rained
every single day
earthquakes deciding
tsunami is art
some relentless day
we'll likely wake 
rub our eyes
with religious grief
knowing each heartbeat
is only for
our incidental sake
realizing knowledge
doesn't require faith
any obvious kind
of ineffectual belief
when our ailing sun
reveals its inner self
remembering beginnings
thundering as it goes
exultation going nova
exposing that millennia
of our deepest fears
maybe mother earth
will break in two
asking for nothing
not even tears
completely absolved
with that given 
resolved evolution
that revolutionary view
when ample God
decides revamped God
now has had
simply quite enough
revealing inner self
finally telling creation
that every single star
once excellent
compels light
quite glorious
to be reabsorbed
God's eternal right
so this existence
really was and is
a dream of God
a single thought
that spoken word
makes perfect gravity
take marvelous creation
God's inner self
all that eternal
infernal subjugation
once has been
what formation taught
once was
so complete
and artfully wrought

            * * *

 

creation undulating
mother breathing
God imagining
nature surviving
if that ancient
spirit still decides
to come home
what may come
so if
sacred water
regains it all
it's a gift
that mother gives
it's a dream
that God has
wanting us
human beings
to live and see
what is right
to give and be
forever existing
in that sacred light
this blessed journey
we all
are on
this sacred path
us humans
must travel
before we discover
none too soon
that giving light
such a blessed gift
and sacred water
from Almighty God
giving all of us
good Mother Earth
sharing such sacred
this blessed life
so as we dance
around our fire
leaving nothing
but blessed elk
thundering buffalo
sacred tracks
we continue
as we need
dressed in holy
continue to feed
our sacred attire
honouring blessed
sacred fragile
our human fire

         * * *

 

it's snowing
again today
all my heartbreak
this rigid pain
laying quite still
almost silent
upon that suffering
frigid snowy ground
if spring manages
to ever come
maybe I'll hear
some heartfelt song
perhaps a songbird 
will come to sing
maybe my heart
will bleed less
when that song
is readily heard
if words could lift
my wounded soul
if sound and harmony
would somehow
bring some relative
harmonic cheer
maybe then
I could be
feel less broken
just being me
still in my dreams
I dream of you
those long gone days
where we shared
mostly perfect love
those long ago
ghostly dreamy nights
where we always cared
about those brilliant
bird song mysteries
soaring and singing
chosen by heaven
from hauntingly above
but now my love
those dreams are gone
all those beautiful feelings
we constantly shared
as we lay together
refreshed and blessed
in your secret garden
holding onto precious love
secretly living there
when we were all alone
I remember that
precious perfumed air
I remember how much
we truly cared
something still remains
that magical colour
of that pastel wind
as an ocean of love
washed over our souls
as all our perfect love
told us mystical stories
about all love knows
my bones ache now
nearly as much as
my broken heart
still somehow
love's miracle words
seem lyrically spoken
even though my love
we've grown old now
remaining so distant
so heart broken
just remember love
life is mostly
dreams and art
while love remains
so damn insistent
yet we still remain
so far apart

          * * * 

one last kiss
before I say goodbye
something gone
one last look
deeply fading
into forever
where love lives
your sparkling eyes
then I'm gone
far across 
love's raging sea
maybe then
we'll wake up
on some distant shore
once again
embraced together
maybe love
will speak up
giving something
even more
one final kiss
my darling love
one last embrace
feasting with sweet love
embracing bliss
writhing together
passionately remember
together one last time 
our compassionate kisses
all our treasured passion
one last time
we let passionate love
embrace and kiss us
let us say
heartfelt goodbye
lightning love
igniting souls
inviting good
for God and us
that perfect place
where we once stood
midst blessed grace
as all things should

            * * * 

 

it's always been
so peaceful here
thus secluded
in my secret cave
something reclusive
receptive monks
those conceptual hermits
just adored
but now
that gentle peace 
lies torn
ripped and broken
most people
have never been
bombed or gored
but now
evolution is likely
some critical
virtual end
more catastrophic
unconditional revolution
seems certain
something viral
very near
now that
atomic words
nexus tweeted
texts of disrespect
openly spoken
if effectual dreams
could cure us
dismiss our hate
desist our fear
what clever scenes
could we ever dream
would true tranquility
finally find its way here
there is something
I must truly confess
this raging current
contagious fueled reality
might suddenly become
absolute and crystal clear
where is that
forgotten place
where true love 
wants and feels more 
where cruel greed
and outrageous hate
this staged myriad
of human sinful traits
should gratefully disappear
as would traceless
unconditional mass execution
and all this
tasteless fate
since we'd all
be in a place
where depressed
those poor are less
where graceful love
dreams less horror
where sentient life
will faithfully endure
still less stress
perhaps if we wore
a more cordial face
we'd find this
sordid bastion world
much more loving
even a peaceful space
a magnificent garden
a consistently wondrous
even paradise place
presuming lords and masters
barbarians won't feed upon
our disturbed human race
assuming all our growl
such remarkable hate
howling war and restless fear
doesn't consume us all
entomb all our humanity
leaving not even
finite fossils
any human evidence
of ritual continuity
just infinite extinction
even all those
respectful monks
in reflective cells
their spiritual caves
leaving an actual planet
without a virtual prayer
or any willful trace
any saving hope
of some holy grace

           * * * 

 

religious Zebediah . . . 
standing stone still . . . 
abhorring rhythm . . . 
breaking drumsticks . . . 
chewing harmony . . . 
those resonant notes . . . 
into little chits . . . 
every single thing . . . 
calling all around us . . . 
all these blasting fits . . . 
as this fanatic world . . . 
twists and turns . . . 
earth burning up . . .  
our Mother morphing . . .
leaving coarse ash . . .
grieving charcoal . . . 
those remorseful bits . . .
still yearning . . .
chillingly I hear . . . 
Babylon screaming . . . 
everything mashed up . . . 
all those vocal quips . . . 
as Jerusalem burns . . . 
churning in fear . . . 
Zebediah falling . . .
onto broken tribal knees . . . 
praying token something . . . 
articulate only . . .
what spoken God . . .
might ever hear . . . 
dare to kneel . . .
we're nearly there . . .
as reborn Babylon . . . 
this modern Zion reality. . .
condemned it burns . . .
Zebediah feeling . . .
God is dreaming . . .
we're wandering . . .
even crawling . . .
defiantly reeling . . . 
does God truly care . . .
with all this , . .
flame and thunder . . . 
all this brazen blunder . . .
innocence spurting blood . . . 
what would God . . .
simply speak . . .  
what should God . . .
openly say . . . 
or even dare . . .
that burning bush . . . 
those Holy words . . . 
this sacred place . . . 
where we are born . . . 
to live and seek . . . 
yet religious Zebediah . . .
standing silent there . . .
feeling very holy . . . 
wanting ego . . .
to behold sacred . . . 
seeking untold blessed . . .
religious Zebediah dares . . . 
while recidivist war . . . 
invites contiguous corruption . . .
all these mad hurricanes . . .
all this arresting eruption . . .
brings humanity to its knees . . .
while virulent God arrives . . . 
contesting Zebediah's prayers . . .
all this worldly disruption . . .
detesting every burning bush . . .
something David and Solomon . . .
those sorrowful holy cries . . . 
drowning in desert tears . . .
deservedly frown upon . . . 
as for peace and love . . . 
mournfully pouring down . . .
from soulful heaven's gate . . .
but revelation is too late . . . 
so relevant God . . . 
that infinite . . .
Holy finger . . . 
has touched us all . . . 
made us wonder . . . 
let us seek . . .
yet religious Zebediah . . .
something fallen . . .
everything but meek . . .
religious Zebediah . . .
incoherently unbalanced . . .
thinking he was chosen . . .
incongruently able . . .
thinking chosen . . .
meant entranced . . .
religious Zebediah . . .
imagined enlightenment . . .
where he thinks . . .
he's always been . . .
yet never . . .
truly chosen . . .
on consignment . . .
rivers of sacred . . .
universal Holy water . . .
can wash away . . .
unforgiven mortal sins . . .
religious Zebediah . . .
never close to complete . . .
unable to maintain . . .
remain upright . . .
even imagine in kind . . .
that sacramental . . .
burning bush . . .
or actual God's . . .
infinite Holy feet . . . 

          * * *

 

I hear old dogs
out howling
something desperate
such basic hunger
other raging dogs
rabid pack animals
raving into howling 
something unfavourable
not just simply starving
more virtual howling
anointed with sour
dressing obstinate greed
moreover each personal
appointed wobbly need
pointedly messing up 
more of everything
hobbling irrational serfdom
bejeweled bitches whining
their perversion defining
every foolish kingdom
disappointment stinging
dry bitch bags
unable to feed
pups and whelps
those ragged hags
vying to remain rich
defining maga help
armies of tag teams
wild howling dogs
some shot up
shut up into bleeding
others ground up
flagrant errant bombs
lover's of tombstone tanks
rolling over them
mortars speaking loudly
back and forth again
roaring unnatural language
old howling dogs 
perhaps finally understand
all this futile war
brutal feudal screams
crude war dogs fear
explosions breaking bones
drones causing moaning
oddly rattled bearings
shattering Sodom's prattle
vicious grinding gears
Gomorrah's battle mind
defeated bleeding soldiers 
wishing they were home
relishing Babushka's perogies
instead of daily feasting
on personal excrement
splattering impersonal trenches
neat piles of resentment
scattered here and there
a rapid collection
relentless aggravating
those constant grenades
more frontline perfume
navigating bitter bullets
death enhanced by gravity
mortal aroma entranced
within that battle stench
pulling life down
into shattered pits
still a smattering
of ratchet howling
old dogs licking
mad hatter wounds
while young dogs
lay there bleeding out
as wretchedness sounds
a fetching recipe
for every battle call
but those old dogs
far from frontlines
keep relatively safe
entrenched in deep bunkers
for each bleak breakfast
they drink vodka neat
speak in foreign tongues
so no sane person
understands or hears
all their demented howling
making our floundering world
shake and virtually spin
ripping out quaking hearts
each token dead body
etched by broken souls
every dreadful soldier dog
once alive and howling
screaming and scowling
at each blood red moon
those old assaulting dogs
crowned by scalding battle
their unenlightened war
presidents and generals
drowning in delight
all that gold braid offal
such degrading ballroom light
huddled masses
astounded by this gore
afraid of losing innocence
reticent because of war
still old dogs howling
aided by excreting horrid
shouting exalted evil
speaking dead meat lies
such morbid humanity
shrieking orwellian hate
all their bloody flags
tellingly draped around
war's fruitless state
howling old dogs
touting propaganda
so freaking loudly
in their hatchet fight
all their sinful execution
grinning followed closely
by their rabid bite

            * * *