Haiku: Forgiveness

Granting oneself life

Sense of humour can be found

The most exquisite

Haiku

Mostly everything:
Just perfection all the time
And still, I miss you.

Haiku: Permission to be

Permission to be.
Who teaches this, gives it out?
Ask your questions, Child.

Haiku: Waking for the first time

Here, in a flesh body
I awake for the first time.
Careful, now. Gently…

Haiku: Existence is nakedness

Alone and quiet,
Existence is nakedness,
Pure and innocent.

GOD

A quick succession of sips

Answered by a volley of volts

- Sounds thrown, lines sewn.

This three letter word

I swirl softly,

Ever so patiently

In my mouth..

My luscious tongue 

Rolling, lapping,

Hardly daring to taste.

All I can do is breathe

And surrender,

Try hold it together,

Whenever You come near. 

CAMERCA

I.

Good wine

Smooth, deep, mature,

Wise.

It knows who it is, 

And is prepared to be eaten and swallowed,

Eager believer,

Necessary sacrifice for ignition of poetry, art,

Song and dance inside,

Ancient fire in the belly

Of the artist,

Eager receiver.

Blessed, good wine.

II.

The invitation

Nay! The admonition

To drink

Because I tried my utmost

Not to think of or linger too long

On the possibility of a strange, wild,

Otherworldly way of being truly alone,

To sleep and hear freely 

The nature of this longing,

To overcome the dread of being somehow

Wrong.

I take another swig,

And hearken:

I am getting better

At feeling into what may come next, for

What do I really want for me?

Only You know, hold this for me

Tenderly,

Preciously,

Graciously,

You, Divine, please.

III.

Is it abuse

Or sudden, instant blast of learning?

I can not comprehend.

The Giant Wheel of Time

- that great linear distortion -

Is all I can grasp

And even that is a stretch.

So, what of it, then?

Is to live to make constant effort?

Yes, Methinx.

Well, I’ve assistance, at least,

In holding aloft these glorious themes

In daydreams of you,

husky-voiced, blossoming,

Skinny minx.

Do I truly wish to understand

That which may lie in darkness

And what is the destination,

Does forgiveness sleep there?

Is that what I crave?

IV.

Incapacitated,

Loss of field for vision,

Acid in the heart, head and hymen,

Sick of grief piled up,

Sick of guilt and sadness 

Leading me by the hand:

Where’s my joy?

Where were you in the 1980s?

We’re doing well:

Look how far we’ve come.

This is an attempt at distraction.

Everything is a distraction.

Maddening.

Thank Gods for circles

Turning mad-making into

Running to seeking,

Longing for connection, 

Oneness.

Your agreeing or disagreeing with me is immaterial 

For I’ll either love you or hate you, 

Depending on my mood.

Poor you.

V.

Anyway, what kind of poet would I be

If I didn’t read other people’s poetry?

Observe: the circular thoughts 

Rolling out of the silence of 

These empty pockets,

Trying to get back into the Mother.

Hey! Where were you in the 1980s?

And how is it that lust and pain

Can feel almost the same?

Once one has forgiven one’s self 

For all the sins of the world

And starts moving again, 

It’s quite an apprehensive thing.

Let The Dragon

Potent Keeper of Womb and Serpent Spear 

Made of Word and fierce Holding says:

You are come to this Plane

Having been everything and yet

Free from having, now, to experience all again 

To live and die well, or not at all.

So, there. Take that.

Aye.

And again, be ever ready to say

Adieu, Farewell and good Night

To your Muses of Sound and Sight.

Be blessed as you walk in the Light.

You are giants there on Earth

And yet there exist greater giants beyond and before you.

You are never alone,

Though recognise:

In your longing you may find a sweet desire

To truly be so.

So, send out, little Brothers and Sisters,

Little Mothers and little Fathers,

Silent Love and Greeting to each other

Across the space that is yours; 

Share your hearts with abandon.

For you are in good Company 

Bound in and to the Mystery

of good,

Clean,

Kind,

Cruel Love.

Let it be possible that

You have on your hands and in your hearts now

Impeccable restraint,

Hard learned and hard earned, yes!

Through a difficult, dark time of 

Repression and suppression.

Oh! This space given you is wondrous, 

Marvellous, magical,

Your Mother Earth, Your Father Sky,

And you walking, sleeping, eating,

Lying, dying, dreaming 

In between.

Haiku: Daydreaming in miracle

Staring at nothing
I daydream in miracle
Gaze at everything

The Morning Birds

The call of Silence is relentless

Remarkable, how much space there is

In between the noises and sounds of this world.

Such sweetness and promise

Sing the little high pitches of the morning birds 

That shake the leaves awake

To open again to the outpouring

Of the sun’s light falling

Relentless is the Silence

Graceful its quiet calling

The Evening Birds

What does it mean to save the world?

Upon Apocalyptic doomsday countdowns of

Those who say everything’s getting worse, I say: 

Heaven! It doesn’t make sense when I feel better,

Watching my own bloom blossom open into Life.

Hear the evening birds as dark grows

And new day begins, and always

The ocean, just over the dune,

Among all the other music 

The silence surrounding me sounds.

It’s the Tiyoweh, the sacred silence

That is to be found when we give ourselves

The moment,

A gift within a gift within a gift:

To sit. To remember.

That is the human life that can hold

All these things

And lift a pen to write the prayer

That records and gives words to

The heart that sings.

To save the world is to be one’s self

Wholly, highly, honestly, quietly.

Lovingly, gently, patiently, respectfully.

Grateful, to know the door is being held open

By the giants that have come before

So that we may walk the steps

Upon each our path

And life on the page

Of the one heart song

To keep each other from falling off the edge.

*according to the old Celtic way, the new day begins when the sun goes down.

*Tiyoweh is a native American word for Stillness, or The Great Sacred Silence.