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JoeC's original poetry and photos about life and all things under the sun.

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Thursday, November 7, 2024



 Haiku for the World


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


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was must always be
omnisonic vibration
tuning into life


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


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           * * *

Tuesday, November 5, 2024


 

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

              * * *

Monday, November 4, 2024

                                           Haiku Monday

 



 

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


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


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

 

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Sunday, November 3, 2024


 

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

             * * *

Saturday, November 2, 2024


 

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

              * * *

Friday, November 1, 2024

 

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

           * * *