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.
Velocity abides in sanguine motion A disposition of characteristics flows Throbbing pulsations within the vein Concealed in the outer barriers Of the androgynous city Stamen and pistil thrive ambiguously Alongside of each other Untagged emotion within heartless objects Stifled in the temporal moment From the blazing yellow eye Like melody that flows from the violin
Blower of the horn Such was the day Mass exodus of all life Sowing of seeds Ripe for planting In search of its own midwife Before all signs Or the meaning of symbols Sweet music freely flows Teeming with life Electrified energy Truly the show of all shows Primordial ooze upon the place Surrounding ether above Such is the Horn of fruitful compassion In likeness to the pure white dove
There was a school of angel fish Only three remain It looks as though they will not make it Before the coming rain That big crocodile waits patiently For them to come his way It looks as though he's going to have Those angel fish today But wait here comes a gust of wind As I sit upon this log The crocodile is changing Into a harmless frog It looks as though the fish are smiling Maybe all along they knew The crocodile would not get them The magic wind had told those fish And calmed them with a clue
Bare limbed trees October days Auburn leaves released The crow sentinel ponders On quiet coldish morns Sloughed flowers Blankness in its stare Such are the ways Visitations from the corvid Deep beauty In the silence Upon the window pane From that which must refrain Bent boughs pose Posterior limbs reach out Grasping in their hold Gentle winds in cold rain The sentinel observes In that which remains
Beneath the folding hands of Heaven Underlying provocation within the sky Anticipation of the revelation Within my own disguise In realization of wanton To dancing in the rain Celebration of joy and sorrow The bliss of knowing pain Crows invade my inner mind Along the Oregon coast Where trees speak only to me My sight of a shadowing ghost Solitude a cherished thing From childhood dreams Not yet realized In such things concealed From whence it had materialized
He merrily washes her every spring Never missing a stroke They've been friends since childhood Since their eyes had met On warm days they slumber Under the rays of the sun At night she sleeps by his cage A friendship that's never done
Weeping for me Although in my presence I reside in your heart Everything in life is temporal The essence shall never depart Comparison to what is mundane Nothing can ever possess All that is placed in our care Not meant to cause regress What exists continues forward Beyond the limit of decay Energy disperses back to its origins Swiftly it goes; As if riding upon a Galloway
Tall grass reaching out In the field of chirping crickets Coarse blades attempt to cling What might lurk in thickets Imagination runs rampant Unlike wheat mingled with chaff Far off is the trail With its epitaph Although a bird looks horizontal To see open skies Tall pines near mountaintops A song that never dies In this place of silence Nature coexists in tranquil peace Distantly is heard the bleating ewe In this gracious masterpiece
Only the eyes are left intact Ravaged in time to disrepair Few would notice what's inside Even less would care The real beauty that resides Within my silent heart Of broken dreams and promises Which are never kept In latter days The sun shone through As though I'd never wept Hope dashed many times Still this child inside Quietly trembling in my waiting My heart will softly abide
As if their fate had always been A planted sapling long ago Located on the silk road Before the days of Marco Polo The tree grew strong and true Many things passed before it In days of dark and morning dew Generations came and went Wars were fought in discontent Yet the tree remained It knew itself in gracious times Hiding in invisibility Quietly as its great trunk climbed Great storms could not prevail Yet lightnings could not avoid It struck the great tree one day Ending what it had enjoyed Slowly it died as it roots gave way Until it fell as some say A peasant passing by gave notice Seeing its beauty even in death Sensing all that was united Until its last breath With loving care he carved from it Through out casting winds that blew For in the work he poured his heart As this he always knew Fate would keep his work together In days of dark and morning dew Two chairs were formed One for virtue-One for strength Carefully he carved them out Endurance in each length Together they have always been And this will always be
Familiarity in the air Last chance to savor the odors of it On my train ride to destinations unknown Far off from what has been mine A voice from the man who brings my hay Laughter of children in the park Others of my own kind alongside There is more fear in the trembling Of others compared to my own Cold steel doors encase me The rumbling of these wheels is not friendly Anxious for the time when they will cease Observing the moon that follows Wondering if there will be one When this journey ends Will there be laughter in the air Are there others of my own kind Someone remarked that I would be reunited But I do not know what this means The smell of the herd fills my trunk Thickness in the air and in my throat I am at the mercy of the steel monster As it pulls me to my next horizon Far beyond the limits of these tracks
Each day that passes Taken for granted Although such days that seem to go Details under a crescent moon That seem to somehow know In the passing of time Of a twinkling star Although its beacon seems afar An insignificance in the total array Surely the light that enters the eye Is sweetness unto the mind Furthermore unto the soul Water is not missed from the great well Until the well has run dry Yet the thirst is much greater Than what can quench the thought Earthly delights within the meaning Of a heaven burdened with frought
Engulfing rains pursue just out the window Reflections into the mind of the nomad Into what has been seen Once exposed to such elements Never able to place things in reverse In the unrelenting noise of the machine Thunder's voice remains unresolved A mystery which cannot be solved Familiar patterns reappear Into prisms of another dimension Beyond the realm of all fear Addictions dissapear within the abyss Unto the nomad who has seen all of this Hounds and jackals howling as in like Of the voices in corridors Relentless water pushing against the dyke The golden bowl disintegrates Voicing its rage Until the integrity of the mind Surrenders to its cage
