This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
Once on a trip to the planet Earth My taste for sushi was acquired Inhabitants of that place were fairly ugly Their ways were not much to be desired While out collecting specimens of herbs I study them for the collective The study of plants is my field of expertise In reaching my main objective In the fibers of such growths Many miracles abide My life's work holds me steady Keeping me alive inside All relative to a days work As I go from planet to planet Gallactic procedures and its rules Are steadfast and written in granite I never deviate from the plan Ever mindful of the universe With care to leave things in pristine condition In utmost priority of the obverse The only gem upon that surface When I am at ease in my home My taste for shushi which I find delicous That causes me not to roam It is a delicacy I do not wish to share Or to let its existence be discovered So I consume it secretly keeping it for myself All of the sushi I've recovered On my journeys to the planet Earth
Surrounded by walls of many colors Myths are born each time Contemplation within these walls In the presence of dying vines Stubbles replace ivy leaves A crumbling wall that grieves Of what is on the outer wall Tears from there That cannot bare Attempting to enter this space In my chair the days pass by Under the guise of the purplish sky Cries of people are muffled low Vying for position within the masses I hear their screams Within my dreams Amidst the dreams of yellow That defy the vines withered Whispers reach my ears My tears have long deserted me With closed eyes I listen The voices are like my own Reminding me from where I came
I was never morose or cynical Anger was kept well inside Others gleaned from my bones While I silently died Kindness mistaken for weakness Misread signals from shallow minds Neither looking to either side Fixed eyes onto a point straight ahead Shadows try to defy Within my peripheral vision They attempt to invade Mocking the possibilities Enslaving anyone in their path This is why I have this inner wrath My exterior is incidental to those who see Ingredients of lust within their eyes Superficial smiles looking for a quick fix They take to me on flight of wings Screeching to a halt as they swoop Upon prey intensified upon In the search of their desires Beyond or below-friend or foe Disgregard for the rising of the sun Indifference to the surroundings Brings no mind for concern Each day is lived on the edge Tainted survival is all that is known And from it such weeds have grown Becoming parasitic to every growth A humans heart is not mourned Rather it only signifies an ending To be discarded and scorned Moving on-trudging forward There are still many more to overcome Grinding bones into the dust It is the way that they must In the force that drives them Marching forward Into the abyss that has been created By those with superficial smiles
Broken bonds into freedom Flying into the abyss Not knowing what is ahead In the wake of a last kiss As a child I come unto thee With arms outstretched Accepting all that is before me Leaving the rest behind Might I fall into those arms Arms that catch me from the fall Labouring under the assumption Into safety that awaits Dependability that cannot exist In any other dimension That which I leave behind Shall not hinder what is ahead
Down in the swamps of Louisiana Blackwater Hattie hides in the bog Dabbling in magic with gators about Concealed in the fog Ice water runs through her veins As I approach her she already knows I bring her an offering of fresh tobacco To mix with the herbs she grows She gives me a look as she smokes her pipe Out on the porch in her chair She signals me to come forth I look at her pure white hair Quickly she looks me up and down Her eyes look deeply into mine Searching for the meaning of my visit Looking for a tell tale sign Nobody goes to Blackwater Hattie Unless they have dire need Some come to her for remedies Others over personal greed I jingle my coins and make my request Explaining to her slowly and trying my best I tell her of the love for my lady I want a potion to bless our love Blackwater Hattie lets out a laugh It flushes out the flight of a dove Of course she agrees and snatches my coins Dissapearing into her shack She quickly returns and hands me something In what appears to be a small sack Giving me instructions to wait til the moon Is full in the sky at night To open the sack and burn its contents Giving me also words to recite I thank her politely and begin to leave But she asks me to stay for awhile Wanting to know of the happenings in town She cracks a gentle smile Hattie reloads her pipe to the brim With my offering of tobacco I had brought Lighting it with a kitchen match Then pausing as if in deep thought She tells me a tale of a lovely maiden Who once lived in the bog She used to dance under the moonlight Followed by her faithful dog The town folk used to laugh at her Many thought her to be insane One day she dissapeared Only tales of her would remain Some say that the maiden was Hattie She neither confirmed or denied There was that twinkle in her eye as she talked Something from down inside She bid me goodbye until the next time Slowly I began to depart Never would I tell a soul in town That Hattie had seen my true heart
Under the canopy formed Along the path I walk each day Entangled together in unison Under skies of grey Brief openings where I see the sky The flight of birds under clouds Covering me from the glaring sun Friends who entangle me within them Like gentle shrouds Every one has different form Each has its own name Many times they have inspired Words which I proclaim Debts owed unto them In my many times of strife When I have sat beneath them In perspective of my life There are no words spoken Amongst these giants who defy time Still I feel they speak to me Their grandeur so sublime Each leaf that falls upon the ground Reminders to me They are the children of the trees Who make their silent plea Another generation comes and goes Seeds that have been sown Another season comes and goes Grateful in my heart to them And all that they condone I am the living voice of the trees; That float along the breeze Into the ears of all men Who walk upon this earth
Mingled trees upon the earth Ebbing within is life They speak in many ways If you have the time to listen Upon their ancient trunks rest Visons from their time Quitely they lull and observe Taking in the vibrations Each moment that goes by Within is the creation of the seed That brings forth new life In their most giving deed It is the small sprout in likeness The newborn child that comes from its roots Trees cast down lovingly Not only upon their own kind To all that is in life and nature as well Fallen trees are unsung heroes Cast upon the ground Their children mourn aloud Yet no once hears in the frenzy of the crowd Softly speaking are the voices A great thing has happened upon this day Wisdom has been passed on Their children shall grow and continue on Recalling into memory the fallen ones Dedicating their existence to them In wonder as to why man does not do the same Where words are spoken Actions are not taken The meaning of the words falls in weakness Strong branches of trees cannot hold them up Boughs thrive for their own sake Fleeing leaves in flower escape upon the winds To places where no harm can come to them Safe from words that are spoken that have no worth They are upon those winds to secret places To dwell within the earth
I wait for my son to return from the front At the gates of the railroad station He is carried on the rails of my hope The center of my own salvation Why men clash on open earth Behind it are the powers that may be From the same waters that I've earned my keep Unquestioning is the sea Sleeping under the stars is no sacrifice Too see the eyes of my son Might I ease the pain of his wounds Until the mending is done The house he was born in waits for him The bed in his room shall Once again cradle my boy The eyes of his mother filled with tears But they shall be tears of joy Sweet wine shall be upon our lips Laughter shall fill the air Soon this will be a forgotten thing In answer to my inner most prayer Hope for peace is never lost Or in the things I adore Soon my son will be with me Then my heart will soar
Looking back retrospectively Sitting on these rails Retired in serious outdated attire Many things have been heard From voices upon my seats ~ One man sits by himself in the corner His shoes tell the story of his life A weathered face of deep lines Caused by the presence of strife The beggars who cross my floors Many times in one day Some do it to support their habit Others have no other way Blank stares into open spaces In the hustle and bustle of the city Impatient feet await In a place where there is no pity Grinding of my wheels Shrill high pitches Each curve emits sparks Along the way Strangers refusing to acknowledge eachother Minds that have gone astray Grinding of the mind Shrill high pitches Each curve brings with it sparks Passing by cemeteries Children playing in parks Sirens abound to break the silence of sound Howling dogs pierce the air In rebellion they object to the invasion Of the space within their lair Vacillation within the vicissitude The vortex created is paralytic Woes go up quickly dissipating Effectuality in the erosion acidic
Cactus stand together in silence Windswept landscape of desert terrain The plight of the tumbleweed across the plains Roadrunners in the early dawn Covering ground where Buffalo once grazed Under the guise of smoke signals sent from mountaintops That wafted amidst the earthen clay Western skies abound To the silence within the sound Amongst the souls that stir Upon those mesas Where once lived the Red Man Of many tribes they were In those places entrusted Signs carved upon wanton rock Under the blazing unforgiving sun Peace within the presence of ancient stone Reptilian inhabitants who live in harmony This starved place of beauty Where antelope once thrived The cactus fondly remember Fragrant floral odors adrift As they observe the tumbleweed In its journey to places over the horizon Knowing that all things must return From whence they came
When I close my eyes The grey Leporidae Floats in the clouds Under the moon Wherever I go it follows me To the hill where my white horse roams Cool water taken from silent wells My horse quenches his thirst He too notices the Leporidae Floating in the sky above It has followed him at times Over the mounds trailed by hounds Who attempt to persue That evasive hare who remains at large Out of the reach of the relentless ones For he only shadows those he wishes Entering into their dreams When he wants to be found By the side of the brook His heartbeat can be heard In the bullrushes and willows Moonbeams gleam off the water in the brook His reflection along with the moon He floats gently back into the clouds Following,always following Like my shadow he follows He is blanketed under the stars Choosing when he wants to appear As he fades into the sky My white horse returns to his place Where cool waters are taken from wells
When I was a boy of only eight Not knowing the meaning Of the word 'segregate' My father decided to take me with him On a plane where he promised A 3-D movie and a fishing voyage on a boat Little did I think of lessons to be learned In the unfolding of this anecdote I tag this memory to the newspaper headlines The day that Clark Gable died My father explained this man was Until I was satisfied There was a lay over in the city of Atlanta I watched the planes go by in the air Listening to announcements Watching people go by quickly As a boy I became slowly aware When asking my father if I could go to the bathroom He instructed me to return Little did I know what would be ahead Or of what I was about to learn As I approached the door I was stopped By an old grey haired black man coming out He discouraged my entrance through that door Then I began to question why with a pout My father seeing the situation Quickly came to my side Questioning the man about the problem With tears in his eyes he replied He doesn't know the difference Pointing to the sign on the door It read "Colored Men" with letters wide My father directed me to the other place Where I was supposed to be After returning to his side I could clearly see My father was trying to console the man Assuring him that someday he would be free ~ This man wore a white shirt with suspenders I wish I had learned his name I remember looking up at him in his pain Tears in his eyes in his withered tired frame My father parted with sadness The man continued to cry My father explained about dignity As I watched the planes in the sky Reminding me to remember the color of his skin Made no difference-he was just a man That he still had a heart within We continued our trip to Miami But I thought of the man and his tears I still think of him to this very day After almost fifty years ~ We went on the boat I got seasick We went to the 3-D movie I caught a cold From the newfangled air conditioning That had just been invented The 3-D glasses gave me a headache We left the movie before it had finished I left Miami totally dissapointed Then after many years I realized The purpose of the trip to Miami Was that image burned into my mind Of the man in Atlanta who was crying Thereby I was able to find The true course of my heart I will never forget the lesson taught Human dignity belongs to everyone It is something that needs not to be bought From the lowest creature To the tallest human In those famous words Let freedom ring It is the melody I learned as a boy Of eight years old The song I continue to sing
My body is my shell This is the child Who lives within the shell Devoid of any emotions Surviving in my own hell Dependent on others Like a store bought doll My eyes only open on command My heart stolen in the tender years Buried deep in the sand Muffled sounds of the ocean Seashells move over my grave Perhaps I will be discovered some day In the breaking of the ocean wave Longing to hear the voice of the gulls The crashing of waves Salt water foam upon the shores The shining sun that saves Sweet warmth will shower me It will heal my tender heart Though there be scars that will always remain My soul will never depart I will once again be free to grow To catch my dreams upon the flow My life will be back in my own hands Where I will endeavor to see distant lands
This is the voice that will never be heard In flights way are those fleeting feet I shall never hear them upon the floor It is a face that I will never adore It is held in a palm of the hand Of what it is and never was The quenching of a spark In the flicker before the flame A sight seen but never meant to be I have many tears for you On this day and many days after When I look up at the sun It will be dull to me The moon will never shine Of all the many stars that sparkle None will ever gain my notice Muddy colored clouds are upon me forever It is a loss that will never be gained I throw myself upon the ground Sending woes up to the deafness of the sky Deprivation of your presence Causes me to choke on my own salivas The deep wound upon my own heart vexes me so I long to hear the hearbeat that was meant to be Raising my hands up high in my cries I mourn the loss placed upon me In your life that shall never be
With factory precision The kiln glowed Smoke billowed from the stacks Down below fires raged Being fed by human slaves Engaging in the act Involuntary servitude demanded Lest they become victims To the unforgiving ovens There they watched a race destroyed Despising their captors In the space of a dark void Hearing the feet on their way to the chambers The chambers of death Where their cries went unheard Upon many deaf ears Soon they would become silent In the ending of their fears In the chambers of death The last final gasping breath Before their bones were baked In the ovens Their ashes spread Mingled together forever In a place where only evil remains Eventually returning to the earth In death defying blessed rains Scattered they may be Remembered so that they remain free In their sacrifice and pain Blessed be the death defying rain
When my sister was born I used to watch her Sleeping alone in her crib The mobile danced about in the sunlight Packed away in the attic I still have her baby bib It has a yellow chicken embroidered That runs towards a house and the sun I've often wondered why I have kept it Since her life had begun My mother let me feel her kicking Deep in her belly she stirred It was an emotional shock to me I imagined her as the Thunderbird To know that a life was thriving inside Many nights I laid awake in thought A work had been done to bring this forth A miracle that had been wrought In the later times I looked at her feet Remembering the way she had kicked To the effect it had worked something in me My heart had been slightly pricked Thereafter was this odd connection The memory of something that came From the belly of my long gone mother The connection to which I must claim
We exchange our thoughts Strange noises enter We feel safe though In this warmth we slumber in Movement seems suspended We are floating by ourselves Yet we seem to be together There is another connection Of some sort Although we know not the source There are colors Muffled sounds from beyond Sometimes strange melodies Different emotional tones Something passing over us at times We use our limbs against it In resistance Somehow it just seems to be The only thing we can do There is another I feel who is myself That is why I refer to myself as 'We' Much of our thoughts seem to be the same Yet there are visions that we share Some of which are not my own This place I am in Seems natural but I wonder There never seems to be any change Nothing is much different I remember seeing a small bright thing Is that where I came from Or is it where I am going I'm going back into my darkness Maybe there will be more to come
Dog in the rain Are you in pain Come in out of the cold Rest yourself upon my floor With all your stories untold I will dry you off Here is water and food Lay by the fireplace and keep warm Then you will change your mood Maybe you'll stay if you like it here I won't chase you away I've got an old cat who sleeps all day The two of my might get along well But for now rest and sleep for awhile It's still too early to tell Old black dog who is no longer in the rain You are not in pain You're out of the cold now, well fed and warm Outside it is cold in the winter storm ~ Rest now old black dog You are safe within these walls
The drawing voice of the small water pond Causes me to come near If I listen closely it whispers to me Relinquishing all my fear Daffodils that grow by the edge Seem to know my concern Gently they lean towards me Immedeately to my own discern My reflection appears in the water Yet there is another much deeper Is this an appearance of my spirit guide Who is the silent gatekeeper Hopefully I wait to see what is revealed That ghostly image which remains concealed
In my dream was the Grasshopper Queen She seemed to read my thoughts I learned their ways looking through those eyes And spoke their language well How it felt to leap through grass They too had their own beliefs Introducing me to other species That hid below the leaves It was within the recurrence of my dreams When the strange teachings took place My mother and father looked on in disbelief When I told them of these things Exclaiming I had an active imagination With concerned looks upon their faces Thereafter I refrained My recurrences still continued From whence I was further trained It came to be in the humming of the tree In the flickering light of the sky Between leaves that touched me gently Hearing their lowly cry Realization of all creation Of the many things that exist Almost as if a great libation A belief I could not resist When my toys stopped talking to me Those dreams seemed to go as well Slowly the memories seemed to fade Until I had forgotten them as far as I could tell The images became faint ~ In my third year of college once again came The vision of the grasshopper queen She had not changed after all that time She was there to tell me what had not been told The remainder of what needed to be said This was to be her last appearance For she told me she would soon be dead Yet she had waited all those years Until the time had come What was imparted before she departed Was the rest of the total sum Emerging from that slumber my thoughts Life will never be the same It would be impossible to look at things Knowing full well the acclaim That all life is precious regardless Though we always assume Considering the things that nature brings From the universal womb
In the darkness I consider the universe Upon this trestleboard What finger reached out to ignite That spark of life's beginning ~ Cultures of trees that grow Tulips that lean towards the sun How many cries from those born From when this first begun Who determined the heterodox By which we chose our fate Imbibed with souls like newborn foals Both small as well as great Within the many paradoxes From creation in it's youth Contained knowledge in frontal lobes Surpassing all other truth In the expiration of everything Still the energy remains Nothing created escapes existence For we are in likeness to sand grains ~ Upon beaches; In the flow of the universe Creation is forever
Armageddon they said was upon us Each day swiftly crept by Nobody took heed to the warnings given Not even a reluctant sigh Thundering of the feet continued in the street As pollution overcame Stale air in the skies Bacteria ladened waters Syringes still in the sand Dropping from the hand That caused them to remain perpendicular The need to feed being more immense Than the ability to survive Poppy fields still thrive On this ledge I see the conglomeration In the traffic thickly below Thinking they will escape Into what? They do not see the terror in the sky It will send them into obliteration Falling short of any notion or goal All will burn slowly like embers of coal Including I as we all must die For the sake of a few who hide Deep in the mountains Gluttons who thrive on careful rations Endless movies at the taxpayers expense Yet they will see no sun through tinted windows For the blanket of smoke is dense My unrealized youth is before me Although I shall never see manhood The role models of the day seemed even lesser than I Alone upon this ledge there is peace of mind Reluctance to depart shall soon come to pass The terror in the sky draws me closer to the end Unto a place which I must ascend
This is how we spend our days With falling leaves of rusted colours Under the muddy white clouds Near the sounds of falling water Surely there is no need to expire With plenty of clover to fill our need Quiet days upon the grass Yet there is an ache in my bones I do not get up as quickly as before My appetite is not as great The inclination to rest is always with me So I take long naps by the waterfall Sleeping to the sound of rushing water Off in the distance are the mountains As evening comes upon us We sit there by the waters edges For some reason the motion Seems to bring me peace Soon we will slumber for the night Only to awaken to yet another day Under the muddy white clouds
As this child within me thrives All that is left of what survived The wound was mortal The damage was grave In cleansing waters That will not cleanse My heart was ripped but not my soul Somehow the sun seems to shine Yet it's brilliance seems dull When I look up into the clouds Or at the stars when night falls I seem to forget what it is that pains me Pink has always been my favorite color Finding a pink bunny for my comfort I know-is out of the question Still my imagination seems to keep me occupied It is only during the quiet times When traveling to my secret place In the place where safety resides Then again those quiet times When the wind is silent and the sky is strange Those hauntings come out of the past The ones-you know,that seem to strangle you The relentless pounding of those words I did not think of the manipulations My only hope was to somehow survive I am not a victim-I am a survivor The hauntings shall remain under my feet The secret place comforts me My ripped heart has scars,but it shall mend
The real music comes after hours The ones that hide in my heart I play the notes for the people who listen Yet there is music that will not impart It stays safely hidden in my bosom The kind that are made with hard tears As I laid upon my pillow on nights With no comfort for all of my fears Songs without words filled my head Expressions that go beyond all my cries It comes from that part of my soul Deep inside where no other will abide The music that makes a man whole Perhaps one day when it seems okay The crowds will hear the beat The music will flow and float out gently Onto the quiet street Candlelight flames from oil lamps will flicker In the distance are the fire flies Onward the melodies press on in time To a place where I realize That I have been searching for all my life The spark in the flickering flame To feel the beat that flows in the street Where anybody may claim Joy that is given freely unto the heart For this is all I will have to impart
On my trodden path She sometimes comes at dawn Amidst the sounds within the forest Of which I'm strangely drawn In the clearing is in the silence As though she had been waiting In abdication of this dimension Her presence so fascinating To question why she chose this Revealing herself to me She floats there so gracefully Like waves upon the sea I named her 'Shadow' On summer nights at dusk She sometimes comes upon the path With the fragrance of her musk Mixed with the smell of wintergreen That cascades from the trees I can almost her whispering to me In the lulling breeze Perhaps she lived here long ago Before her days were done And came to walk this path I know Which hides from yonder sun As crickets chirp in distant calls The rustling winds in trees do speak Many times I've sought myself What does she truly seek She does not forbade my presence Therefore I welcome hers as well
There once was a boy who planted a seed; That came from a giving tree; He watched over the seed after he planted it; Until it became a sapling on its own; Then he nurtured it and protected it; Until it was fully grown; All of those years had passed by so quickly; The boy and the tree had grown up together; He spent days under it with his woman; And days with his children; Amongst the sweet smelling heather; All of his thinking was done under the tree; His trusty dog by his side; The man confided in his friend the tree; Until the day that he died: He asked that his grave be set by the tree; Amongst the sweet smelling heather; So he could be close by his friend of the years; To continue their days together;
I'm in my '64 Ford on the road; Headed for a beach I once saw in my dreams; The radio plays my songs that I love; I'm not bothered by the rain in the sky; Or the sun that blindly gleams; Down on a beach that only exists; In the recesses of my mind; Going down the road to the middle of nowhere; To a place that I must find; The Camel cigarette taste is stale in my mouth; As the nicotine stings my tongue; Are those sand dunes off in the distance; Or the remnants of society's dung; There is a pelican who soars in the sky; Did he give me a wink; There is a girl who walks on the beach; I believe I will call her a mink; The smell of the ocean fills my nostrils; The song on the radio plays; I smoke my Camel cigarettes; Until the ending of days; When I can shoose to walk on a beach; And hear the sound of the gulls; To watch the waves crash into the surf; To a soft sounding song that lulls; Lulling me into the beauty that exists: Only in the center of my mind;
In a room in a place in the corridors of time; Here I have sat for the decades that have come; No voice can be heard from its shadows; For that is the total sum; With only my teddy to keep by my side; My spirit within left long ago; In my melancholy I have become a cutter; I have cut all the way in deep into my soul; When I had words nobody would hear; Only my teddy would shed a tear; He is my only friend that I have; My flesh is no longer part of my soul;
They know not the meaning of anyones origin; It makes no difference at all; Like innocent sunflowers that sway in the wind; Like a child who plays with a ball; Their mind is clean and pristine; They are in the orbit at the mercy of man; Let them shine as a star so they will see far; Let them hear the good music in their ears; Ease their fears but let them know of it; And the sunflowers will make seed; So that others like themselves will follow;
No one will touch me-nobody wants me; I walked about the places where people go; I have been to the corridors in warped time; My voice was never acknowledged; The crowd passed me by and did not see my flag raised; The causes for which I fought were never won; A kindly bird was cast down before me; The oil from the machinery choked it; Nobody paid any attention to it; Everyone was interested in the man; Who got killed over a parking space; Words are meaningless and futile for me; This is what I am;
I'm just a cat who's in no hurry; I'll always do as I please: First stop along the way is the corner; For my warm drink of milk in a bowl; Then I scare the starlings in the trees; By climbing up the clothing pole; Over a fence and onto the next; There I get tuna for food; It's always there in a bowl for me; Now I'm in a good mood; All of this makes me a little tired; So it's time for my morning nap; When I wake up it's to scare some more birds; Then I cause some dogs to yap; My boyfriend who's a cat they call Rex; We play for awhile in the sun; Then it's time for another nap; Rex is always so much fun; Well it's time to go home where I stay for the night; In a warm bed that's made just for me; I'll do what I want as I've done all my life; This is how I always will be;
When I am gazed upon people do not see; The chains that enveolop me to that which I am; In a place where my seed was not planted; I have had to learn to adapt myself; In the midst of nature in another place; Seeds drift upon the wind and fall where they may; Giving sprout to new cultures; Were every tree to be the same; And every flower to be of the same species; What a bouquet of loss that would be; There is no time to build upon soil that is dry; For I am a different flower of sorts; One that blossoms in its own season; And produces nectar in its own time; A particular flower of beauty; That flourishes amongst other flowers; Who have their own beauty and are unique in their own way;
Scrolling back through the pages of memories; Whether they be others or my own; I often wonder what the definition of; Indefinite Invisibility means; It is like a nail that clangs on the ground; like clatter on the cobbelstones; It is the mechanical click that comes from within; The click that is like being crucified to ones own self; It goes deeper than the soul; It is at the place which is my moment in time; And it travels to a place that goes; Beyond all human percievability; Where even angels may fear to tread; ~ To witness the tears that come from trees; to gaze upon a building that is free from disease; people are plastic and plastic is dust; eyes that look on are difficult to trust; I am reaching for something; But I know not what; It is the river that flows and resides within; The sweet lullabys of ancient winds; Walking the dream paths with the djin; The smokeless fire of the counting of omer; white fire is like water to the touch; olives have the oil that carry the knowledge; A tree is a culture of such; For there are many but yet so few; Who can tell of the writings on walls; Though they be plastered or painted over; Justice is within the law that falls; I can hear the sound on the tracks; As I stand in the haze of the rain; I can hear the whistle blowing; Around the bend is the locomotive; That pulls the silent train;
Down in the fields where the cane grows high; I have begun to question why; Big wheel down by the mill is turnin' Desire in my heart; For New Orleans is a burnin' Voodoo spirits don't mess with me; I want to walk them streets so let me be; I'll have me some gumbo down on the bayou; And get me some work for a jingle in my britches; Find a flat to live in near the Quarter; With a pretty little brown skin day by day; Maybe a thing or two I'll learn; To dig and be dug in due return; Ah til the sun comes up in the morn; An' til I see that bayou moon; I'm headed to the Quarter of New Orleans; For the song of my own sweet tune;
Riding the rails down the railroad track; Clickety,clickety,clickety,clack; I'm never goin' home and I'm never lookin' back; Down through the country as the towns go by; And I think of the times in the years; When my mother would sing to me 'til I slept; Her songs quenched all of my fears; She would never know how I came to ride rails; Now I feel the locomotive as it pulls; For there are no more tears left to shed; I have left behind a city of fools; It is as though a parched dream's path; There is no pity in the mosaic city; Grinding and crushing-tearing and pulling; At people's minds and hearts; As the soot and grime take their place upon; The collars of shirts and inhabit their nostrils; Feet are pounding upon the pavement; Sick dogs who are an hungered and in belly pain; Gutters await to castigate; Awaiting for the murder of the falling rain; All will be washed amidst the sleeping city; Like a fine tuned calliope as it plays; On the merry go round as horses abound; One more clown bites the dust; The mighty three ring circus continues onward; In the metropolis of utter disgust; And if not for the sun when it's all said and done; Yet not a tear in even one blind eye; Nobody even bothers to question why; As the band plays on until dusk;
I really am a brand new Chevy; What you see is me inside; Although I run like nobodys business; I've allowed myself to die; Folks kept saying how much they loved me; But I paid them no mind; So now I'm just a broke down Chevy; Under the tree-So let me be; I don't want to be here any more; The birds will build their nests upon; My seats and on my floor; I refuse to be a brand new Chevy; So here I sit and rot upon the levee;
The way of the wolf is solitude; It hears beyond the edges of the horizon; He sees beyond the souls of all men; And feels the beating of each person's heart; It knows contentment and the way of peace; But also the ways of survival; The wolf walks his own path; For if anything be on the same path; Then it is no longer his own;
Out in the street I can feel the beat; Of the relentless pounding of the feet; Many are blind and do not see; Many are deaf and do not hear; The look of death is upon their faces; They have no noticeable emotions; Least of all they know not fear; Like mindless rodents that run through the gutter; Or the cockaroach that clings to the wall; They are men leaning upon other men; Eventual collapse will be their fall; There is no God or Higher Power; All is dependent upon their might; Deprivation from hearing the noise; Blinded so they have no sight; While the pounding of feet sings on pavements; Children go cold and unfed; I can hear the voices-I can see the visions; All within my head; Although it may be but a chapter in a book; The leaves of pages are empty and frail; It reads like an epitaph in a growing storm; Filled with boils and hail; The locusts feed and grow; Concealed amongst the weeds; Nobody notices the open wounds; Upon which the predators feed;
Where is my friend who comes to see me; As I sit in the stairway and wait; Doesn't he know I must hear his voice; To break the stark reality of my void; I see where our fingers were upon the sill; As we talked on the last cloudy day; The sun was not shining but my heart was; Our words danced across the hallways; And seemed to linger in the air; But for a moment in time; Where time had no power to move; It were as though time itself was suspended; I will cling to that moment until; My friend comes to my side once again; For I must hear his voice to break this silence; To take me from the stark reality of my void;
Can you see by my arms of where I have been; Do you really want to know my mind; Is it so hard to imagine what roads I've been down; Do you really want to help me find; Will you settle for less and use me as others; Have used me in the past for their own; I was a flower that had barely blossomed; And was clipped before I was grown; Will you take the sunlight that I desperately need; And use it to warm your own heart; Why must the feet of desperate people: Deny a thing of nature its start; Instead of offering a helping hand; You offered something I did not need; I needed a friend who was willing to bend; Instead you allowed me to bleed; And answered your own call; As you watched me fall; I am a wilting flower whose petals are no more;
Therein Lies the Apple; The fruit that began in a dream; As it rots away a tree is revealed; Where there is no apparent stream; No bird in sight that takes to flight; It is a pristine place waiting for an invocation; It will then be transported to its relocation; Somewhere on the outskirts of the newborn mind;
Feint images that come out of the past; Ghosts in dreams-odd as it seems; Imagined images that lurk in the closet; Rising like steam-an eye with a gleam; My dog on the bed,she will protect me; I draw her near-out of my fear; She gives a sigh as though asking why; I nestle her closely and hold her in my arms; She will protect me from anything that harms; I wonder of the noises and the trap door to the attic; Is there something up there that wants to get in; Is that a spider over in the shadows; The wind is banging on a piece of tin; Or is it the man who lives in the woods; The one with the beady eyes; Those tree branches hanging just outside the window; Look like the boogeyman in his disguise; Wonder if the people who live next door; Will scare off the man who lives in the trees; Before he gets in with the lull of the breeze; When will the sun replace the moon; And silence the song of the lonely loon; When the stars dissapear til the next night comes; And the rattling of the wind once again sounds; Over the hills and far away are the beady eyed demons; Who hide in the woods and atop the mounds;
Minds that revolve on our planet; Are greater than the earth is itself; All things that exist in the world; A great ocean of wealth; Every part of everything; The molding from one piece of clay; We are all bound by a greater force; That is found wanton in the way; Anything can exist that can be thought of; Except a solitaire meaning of our ways; That is to give of our own volition; A word of encouraging praise; All other things can be done; Under the sun; Except for that one single thing; To give a praise to another life; Yes-let its freedom ring;
The place of the meeting of minds; When all is said and done; Upon the checkerboard of fates; In suspension along the dream paths; Beyond the borders of time; ~ Into horizons of never before; To a place where all may adore; A place of creation; Amongst all the spheres; Who have recieved their colors; Like medals of honor; According to the records of their deeds; ~ They are all gathered in a great hall in rows; No color has yet been created; One can peer into and see their clarity; For the ones that are cloudy; They are escorted out another way; ~ All are before the great roving eye; It is suspended atop like a chandelier; There are no words to be spoken; Their fates rest with the images of time; That the smokeless fire reveals;
In the Lake of Reflections where one can see; Their own actions of another time; There is no smokeless fire here; Or words upon a wall-only images to keep; The truth that will bear all; ~ It is the place where one must cross; Over the Bridge of Spheres; One must peer into the lake; It is a time of solace and fears; For in the reflections are the images of their past; Of which they must admit to their presence; Fragrant flowers or unthinkable stench; One thing or another will resonate to the surface; It shall be played to all that cross; So they may see their record of deeds; Before entering the Great Hall; Where the Roving Eye will greet them; For they shall sit in rows and be assigned; According to what the smokeless fires present; Which is their record in the time of another place;
My last recollection was of the dawn; Now it seems to be past dusk; That is an odd spiral that acsends; Is it the morning star in the distance; I have no recollection of a prior memory; I am a sphere within a sphere; There is no other color before me; Or within myself; It just seems as if there is a destiny; That pulls in one certain direction; It takes me not by force; I am led to believe that there is no choice; But where else is it that I would go; It feels as if there is a roving eye ahead of me; And a place where I can see myself as I appear; These are mere images that come to me; As I travel towards what appears to be; The morning star;
That man bird Quigleanamos; Who sits perched in my view; He has come out of his crater once again; To share in my meal and lick the morning dew; He is in the cornerposts of my columns; Fresh on my mind; Stars abound encircling him; In the horns of plenty he shall find; Others like he-but none more like me; Quigleanamos shall never flee; The meeting of our minds out in the cosmos; As shooting stars go by; I am too feeble to search out another friend; And he is too feeble to fly; We shall talk about the nebula; The many moons at cresent that appear; It is a mutual understanding we have; That has always been very clear; What are days to either of us; Each one is a cluster of how we cope; Quigleanamos is nearby as I; We climb together the mountain slope;
Ocosomemuh has come to visit me; His companion is Yatoquemark; Yato is like Oco's remorah that cling to a shark; In the other world from where I was at one time; Before I made my journey and began to climb; What news will Oco bring me from places beyond; Where I have yet traveled to go; His last visitation brought me many visions; I did not know of such things or that they could exsist; Yato wants to play a bit as we greet eachother; He is a prankster of sorts who cannot resist; I am glad in my heart that he is with Oco; He brings a spark of joy to his heart when he becomes burdened; With the visions that he accumulates; Oh how he resonates with the light from afar; It is almost as if he is his own shining star; What he tells me I will enjoy it with my friend Quigleanamos; When he emerges from his crater and sits upon my cornerposts; It is truly a meeting of the minds;
Music is poised in utter grace; The notes come from a heavenly source; Ripped up by its roots unto many ears; It will never run its course; It travels through the solar system; Never falling deaf upon loose minds; In every crevice it penetrates; It is the fabric that binds; A universal language of sorts; That fullfills natures woe; The vibrations of the notes are healing; For it has no fear of foe; It can calm the binding winds; For it is the lady of peace; Soaring high to places unknown; Like a newborn lamb's pure fleece;
I go to the temple of Shadoveh; Tarrogen and Bal Shem Tov accompany me; They are my dragons who abide in my heart's mind; Pure forms of energy that will never flee; My sentinels are present; Meshema and Tahana who shelter my heart; Quigleanamos joins in my journey; He has been there from the very start; Great walls that align the corridors; Floral images are at our feet; The fragrance permeates the space we are in; The smell of the odor is so very sweet; In an endless sky we journey forward; Out beyond the clouds in the breeze; Ah-it is the pure essence of inner joy; With the clarity our vision sees; Time has no meaning-neither does distance; We can travel in the twinkle of an eye; Through the wormholes and the spans of space; To the temple of Shadoveh; We shall hover in suspension at our own pace; With no recollection of night or day;
In the flower dream spiral; Beyond the Temple of Shadoveh; Several light years have gone by; To bring about this traveled way; Oco and Yato are trailing behind; They joined us back in the Andromeda Strain; There is no weariness in our journeys; For we are as if-one brain; The flower dream spiral is part of the path; That ascends to a place much farther beyond; Where planets are born-and stars that adorn; Many horizons away beyond the Lake of Reflections; In close proximity to the Checkerboard of Fates;
An Infinity has passed since the Flower Dream Spiral; It has only been but a moment in time; The Tree of Life when it had no color given unto it; And not yet any movement from within the tree; A ghostly reminder or what occurs; Without the source of things beyond; Intervention of something that is past; Our vision of understanding; ~ It is like a fractal image without substance; Everything that exsists is without; Unless there is something within; That recieves the spark of life; Thus reality of the Tetragrammatron; The Omnipresence within the universe; Is the essence of creation in all things;
The Garden of Eden is an urban legend; They hid themselves amongst the trees; Trees are cultures-their leaves are their children; Even Lilith sees; In our day and age it is all the same; Hoping to mix into the crowd; To avoid detection of our mind's erection; That which is concealed by the shroud; First came images placed on the walls; Of decaying ancient caves; But first there was the prism spread; And sounds which became music to the ear; The images scratched onto the walls; To help man cope with his fear; All things are not from this earth; But were sent here from far beyond; We look to the sky and wonder why; In utter ignorance to the bond; The fruit upon the tree was edible; From the branch that held it fast; The bite taken from the fruit was; A thing we do to this day from the past; It is the taste of flesh into our mouths; Before it was borne and planted unto seed; We know the difference between good and evil; That is not a man's creed; Choices to look in another direction; Ignoring the voices from within; Craving the taste of exasperation; Recorded by the prostrated djin;
