I tried to wake up
but everything seemed made up
relevance appeared frayed and obscure
I tried to deliberate and speak
but my parchment mouth
was full of symbols and wretched dust
atonement burned like fire on the tip of my tongue
I tried to knead all my fermenting words
but my half baked mouth
was jammed with coarse ash and raw syllables
I tried to straighten up and think
but my frittered mind
was verb and plum empty
storied communion juiced and squeezed
my blazing frontal lobes
disorienting my parsley being
I tried to metaphysically move
but my ornamental body
stood rigid and forlorn
I tried a lion pose hoping to finally sleep
but my wooden eyes
could never open or shut
I tried to smother my incense dreams
but my insensitive and clouded brain
would only smolder and blunder
I tried thunder and dance
but all my words are broken
chants unsung and so much poetry still unspoken
I tried to play earthly music
but my left hand ran off with all my art and virtues
my invalid right feeling crippled and veritably lost
I've tried to inhale life and sacred breath
but my veritable soul
chokes on unabridged reality
I've tried to protest impertinent love
but my fidgeting spirit
mocks my freedom and fidelity

                       * * *

 

in a hurricane
all the surety of fruit
gets furiously blown off the tree
bruised fruit for everyone including you and me
in a hurricane
so many big branches are broken
life flushed away by rushing rivers and streams
tormented hours all of them crawling with nightmares
followed by the worst night terror dreams
in a hurricane
revered and majestic old trees
get uprooted so damn fast
falling while recalling chapters
of storms they survived in their ancient past
in a hurricane
power lines and transformers
are violently tossed to the ground
so millions sit dejected
in transformative dark
while conjecture wonders
about the pitiable things
lost and left in the poor park
in a hurricane
the insanely raging wind
wants to tear your roof and head off
crazy low pressure dictating
each execution from its ocean trough
in a hurricane
the magnificently hysterical sea
wants to tragically flood
every tangled beach and mangled harbour
a deep froth of chill and seawater
salting every garden and coastal arbor
in a hurricane
angry gales blowing torrential rain
want to show-off and quickly fill
every empty pool and low lying basement
nature and the storm gods defiling this changing world
rendering its destiny with such wicked displacement
in a hurricane
falling on our knees
everyone praying for less wind and rain easement
doesn't mean insanity is repressive or even vain
hurried along by a hurricane's impressive defacement
a finger of God creating this oppressive chastisement
in a hurricane
the world seems a different place
so much pounding wind  
driving rain into everyone's face
cowering from the obsessive storm
is not a show of cowardice or a disgrace
God only wishes all eyes open
all hearts wide open
for the whole human race

 

I heard the Queen died
all week
there has been news
heralding this Queen
a country Monarch
I've only known
during feral life
my waking views
but I'm just
a speaking bug
clinging to
imperiled rock and mossy arch
alive with life's
sugar and starch
yet my medicine mouth
growing turkey tail and bracket fungi
unlike my woolly worm and moth eaten life
void of royal jelly
no jewels and crowns
no bee's wax
every thing an absence
my carpenter ant castle
void of ant hill farms
no studs or gems or thrones
reflection from
my earthly hallelujah realm
mountains of review
but glaciers and sacred shorelines
spiritual canyons
ritually change
and the virtual Queen
is dead
shall we
metamorphose too
spin a sacred chrysalis
rich silk and virtue
one virtuous and holy day
emerge again
warmed by
our own yearning
under the blessed
burning sun
adorned with sparkling
monarch wings
rising out of the blue
such gentle sky
behold a golden
horn and helm
higher too
platinum jubilee
like repentant kings
civil queens might do
cycles begin anew
that african diamond
each tribal facet
reflecting elephants and lions
a growing indignant tide
an urgent fleuve
flooding its way
across every monarch's land
resurgence of perfect
nature with epic hope
making passionate love
a blasting tsunami
from each deep ocean
let us strive
try to cope
after every
monarch's orgasmic death
nothing can be
centre of the world
for the centre
of the world
reeks of metaphor
flowing molten tin and lead
touching upon unique
brahma and foreboding
entrenched with dig deep
excavating that hidden way
all the way to enlightenment
reach out for reason
touch heaven and the prophetic sky
live questing
pray that you
find perfect stead
so once
in a bug's lifetime
when you hear
the Queen is dead
remember
blessed garden life
always remaining
dear and near
we have to ask
why are majestic birds dying
we have to wonder
why do pilot whales run-a-ground
I heard they were happy
I heard they felt safe
but then the Queen dies
so everything changes
even the sun and the sky
floundering and running-a-ground
even spiders with their perfect webs
failing to catch a fruitful fly
so too imperfect hurricane
choked by brethren cyclone
strangled by raging earthquake
those curios and rampant pitfalls
entrapment and tiger traps
this world's curious viral illness
politics with its raging hormones
whatever should remains the same
still evolution takes over
attuned and in good stead
god's plumage
stuck in every hat and head
your heart and soul
they might
feel the same
still the odd world
goes relatively insane
the Queen is cold and dead
Emperors and Kings remain
but the Queen has died
princely jesters pause to call
reciting a wavering refrain
the Queen is dead
the Queen is dead
God help us all
the Queen is dead
God help us
one and all

           * * *

 

foot prints
in the sand
like star tracks
across the sky
Oh! Brahmaputra
lovely lotus flower
perfume around the earth
what hurt and regret
does the sacred sun have
Oh! blissful moon
tragedy never escapes you
still by fate you orbit
if you were Emperor
commanding oceans
demanding love from hearts
would each moon beam
be some trickle of faith
could every eclipse
be a function of destiny
on each biblical morning
when we typically find
icecaps being defeated
should we truly discover
all the oceans have died and failed
when all our food stocks
have rotted and are depleted
when contorted civilization stinks
when everything that exists seems conceited
will all those flushing tracks we leave
crushing bugs and stepping on ants
what kind of thugs are we
maybe lack of water will clear our minds
perhaps acid rain will sequester our progress
let us wonder if starvation can infuse enlightenment
while confusion keeps us at war
battling with our incessant selves
regressing with our planet
folk tales could cure all this
love songs could help us make a positive shift
what about all our fears and tears
what about finally shifting gears
revision through our rear-view mirrors
reviewing justice and integral dreams
seeing life through spiritual eyes
one chant and mantra after another
prayers from every sacred cave
if prayers are heard will we be saved
so this metamorphosis
this glaciated kind
a recipe from dinosaurs into birds
confusing our viral nature
perhaps some intelligent stature
will suitably revere flocks and herds
natural food for our godhead mind
such a pity this final reality
finial cementing over spiral jungles
concrete thoughts into vinyl deserts
we keep polluting rivers
insist on depleting oceans
this rank atmosphere
creating rampant plagues
begetting destructive war
leaving us lost and homeless
forgetting all those forgotten poor
abusing innocence and children
enslaving voiceless women
shackling broken men
another token mass extinction
even spiritual degradation
cannot match our demon worship
our insipid greed
our blatant hate
our raging anger
all our human lust and disharmony
banking on dysfunctional politics
elevating elected bandits and gangs
such gruesome torture
delegating every misguided society
corrupting true religion
amassing broken hearts
imprisoning our wretched souls
as if we are playing our sacred part
as if we are masters of the lawful universe
as if we are gods right from the thoughtful start
leaving footprints in coarse sand
like we are the artist and not the art

                              * * *

 

what if the world
wasn't green with plants
what if there were
no poems or dance
what if the planet
wasn't blue with water
what will happen
when the planet gets even hotter
what if suddenly
music stopped
would you feel unbalanced
sadly collapse and flop
what if your heart
suddenly stopped beating
what if existence
was even more fleeting
what if the sun
refused to shine
what would we do
without fruit ripening on the vine
what if there were even more things
humans simply could not transcend
what if everything
decided to disappear and end
what will dreams be
when the living world truly ends

                   * * * 

 

I know too much
so my heart is heavy
all those things
making my soul cry
I know way too much
which leaves me broken
all those things
that make me weep and sigh
I don't know anything
even though I've heard
all those terrible words
danger and plight have spoken
I don't know anything
still in my dreams
I recount everything
those tragic things
that make me
want to burrow
deep into the sorrowful earth
those drastic things
that have turned the world
from what magic used to bring
which used to make me want to sing
instead of making me crumple and cry
making me think that everything
is simply wanting
making me useless and senseless
so in my careless dreams
seeing things that depress us
I see the perilous end
sensing demons that distress us
those things I know and don't know
simply making me want
to disappear and die

                  * * *

 

burn all life's bridges
as existence tumbles
resist falling down
into some feckless underworld
those reckless bridge trolls
chewing on raw snails
feasting on bloody flesh
gnawing on broken bones
do the brash remember
the course of sweet surrender
even though fete nature is clever
still nervously biting
ragged lives and finger nails
draw another soulful line
the folly of goodness and frailty
dashed in coarse sand
what in heaven's name
are troll's harsh demands
some smashing dialogue
good life mashed to bits
when cruel lines are drawn
resulting in stitched up warring
every bitching ultimatum
those careless bridge trolls
never ever sharing
slicing and dicing sprites and elves
is perfect life dwelling
in some pricey bog
goodness gracious
how does it feel
to be a prisoner and a dog
a slave to trolls
ask displaced sprites and gnomes
watch as graceful elves and faeries
gather tender bits
from what remains
of their nature homes
watch while they flash away
dashing into rolling far-off hills
such reflective light and folly
oh the sad regretful glowing moon
what knowingly happens
when every flowing connection
every sturdy bridge collapses
when trolls with their viral infection
disrespect sprites and elves
does magic simply disappear
inflection due to happenstance
what are the tragic circumstances
of story book life and true romance
where faerie tales and middle earth
sorrowfully and abruptly end
because of horrid
awful happenchance
because of mindless trolls
emerging from deep dark holes
burning and destroying bridges
that elves and faeries
always strive to defend

                    * * *