Words
Words
The power of words
If birds
Had words
Would their songs be more convincing?
Or would Love be lost
Too much meaning
The cost
Leaving one
Daft and
Confusing?
No, better
The bird
With more songs and no words
Just as rich
And prolific
Through the ages
What creations
Will we bring
When we’re left just to sing…
The poet
These words
These pages.
Robin with
Your orange
Chest
You seem more
Than a bit
Overdressed for
Breakfast at
The Garden Club
As your mate
Waits on
The gate
You search
For a morsel
More. And
You share
What’s there
With your
Girl.
If I had a faster tweet
If I were more than this meat
If I could fly through the streets
If I could provide for thee?
Would you be up for it?
“I do not know
Where would we go?”
“To my nest
May we rest
— Together”
It is the Language that will save us.
If the words don’t destroy us first. ~Mindscribe
We are asked to see the world as binary. We are given glasses with only two lenses — polar lenses in opposition of eachother, pulling your eyes with a strain so hard that the only choice is to close one of your eyes. But, we need bifocals at least, though we really use an array of lenses everyday. Ones for work, others for children, bare naked eyes for your lover — “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” – Ghandi
We priests
Of the dirt
Have gathered this bark
To bring
Fire and light
To your eternal dark
To set loose
This tongue
To remind the mind
That “you
Will have no
other Gods before me”
In dark
Robes these takers
Prepare what is not theirs
In justice
In gratiated
In kind in cantations
To evoke
Your fear
And provoke you into hiding
What spells
The Witchers
Cast to find you
Follow Your
Every move
Re-writing mind under blue lights
You lie
Prostrate
Waiting for enlightenment
Meditate
You must
In these powers greater than you
Bring to
The light
A word that can still be heard
Not still
Born on
The lips of false prophets
For the
Opening
Ceremony has just commenced
Put down
Your flags
Draw up your masks tightly
No spell
Can stop
The cast of blood that
Will baptize our new souls
It is always
Quite peculiar to me
That in the spring
We must first destroy
Before we can bring new
Life to the light.
The mighty butterfly bush
Must first be hobbled
Before its May burst
Fragrant flowers of early
Summer. Cut back of
All the previous year’s
Ambition. Laid waste to
Stump and seemingly left
For dead. Yet, from
Every pore does pour a
Bursting of harnessed
Sunshine that sets out to
Entwine its frothy
Flowers up and out to
The sky. An offering
For the Father. (And the
Butterflies.)
Peaceful, the soils of winter
Frozen in time and distracted
From the ambitions of summer
Suddenly disturbed! Torn
Apart foot by foot. Every
Living thing destroyed to make
Way the people’s plan for the
Land. Focused fruits of
Labor, water, soil and toil.
Different traditions, each follow-
ing the Master, The Sun.
Timed only by its rising
Desire to burn existence into
Being. To breed green life to
Sustain the Diviner.
Bird song
Gives me
Structure
Rhythm
A call
To hear
Perfect
Numeric
Sequence
Catching
The Po-
ets ear
Please hear
Please hear
Please hear me
Your At-
tention is
Required
Hear ye
Hear ye! Hear
Our songs
To Aw
-aken Your
Desires
Turning the dirt
With Great-Grand-Daddy’s plow
Sharecropper’s till
Real familiar somehow
Making quick work
Of my little garden plot
He’d make an acre
Into food they never bought
Traded with the Osage
When he had a good crop
But it never really seems
Like my efforts pay out full
Maybe this year’s different
Using my ancestral tool
This Old Book*
Born before you
By Sixteen years
Tattered on the
Cover but
Full of Rare
Insights
Beyond its years
Like you.
quinquagenarian
On separate plains
We’ve walked these
Many years while
By my side
Your presence
Felt! A constant
Like the pull
Of True North.
A constant
Companion of
Spirit. Compadre
de una otra madre.
May the Journey
Be but halfway through >>
Cottoncandy salmon over
‘68 Mustang Metallic Blue
Rippling whisps of melon
Streched over Sodalite
Swifting, Lighting,
Darkening, Brightening,
Going, going,
—gone