Sunday, November 30, 2008

Of the sun and moon

The wills and wounds of night,
progress across Universe.
Their astronomical paths rail,
a sphere of God’s betrayal festers,
a curse their destined paths.
For there is only a cadence,
to which either shall ever come to know,
for neither will ever come to meet.
They are two deities married in their love apart,
destined to a hungering ache.
Their skyward footprints dashing, dashing.
Points of star spear the night,
and blushing Sun's cheeks greet the Moon.
An enduring tryst,
of a parting spent throwing signals,
through the heavens of the Earth.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


I spent a few moments this morning writing this. It was supposed to be about solitude and the growth one can partake in when you go from the internal to the external universe. So often we are drowning in our own thoughts, we are afraid to hold our breath and separate the worthless from the meaningful. Solitude is important and can be a healing journey, but also a frightening one.


Of what I can see,

in darkness,

beyond stars,

before the moonlight surfaces,

-is loneliness,

and fear,

slipping into my skin,


and me sweeping blind eyes,

from side to side,

in search,

of a waif-like companionship,

where none exists.

Of what I can hear,

in silence,

beyond shuffling grass,

before the wind dances,

-is isolation,

and phobia,

fitting into my thoughts,


and me listening with deaf ears,

to an encompassing calm,


with tranquil autonomy,

where silence can echo.

Of what I can feel,

in solitude,

beyond fall-chill,

before the sun winks at me,

-is calmness,

and peace,

relaxing my body and soul,


and me exhuming a smile,

ear to ear,


to expose the rainbow of me,

where self can blush.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


This poem is about the clouds. More importantly what you see in them and what they see in you.


To slumber ‘neath sky,
on green grass and purple heather.
To look up and sigh,
at soft clouds as light as feathers.

To watch dinosaurs,
open their mouths and squish their prey.
To spot floating ships,
weigh anchor and sail from bay.

To besiege castle,
lofty turrets and battlements.
To open the door,
mangy room full of God’s blueprints.

To be a child,
captured in nature's petri-dish.
To be let wild,
visions swallowed by a great fish.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Blood Rush

With winter on the days heels and my mind in a tizzy with so much reality, I thought it'd be fun to write a more whimsy, dark poem about a vampire. In this case, a female vampire laying in wait for her pray.


of the forest, a flowing woman
howls of wind, she hears
of the night, a flowing woman
moon of night, she peers

of the quiet, she visits often
a love she cannot trace
of her heart, she cannot soften
a hunger without erase

of her past, there is recalled
a girl cold and lost
of the night, there standing tall
a vampire in the frost

of the snow, that lays in white
a silent whimper sings
of the footprints, in the night
a fear the full moon brings

of the man, she’ll never love
a sorrow without end
of the curse, she’s never free of
a rush of blood amends

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Enchanted (version II)

There's nothing like - silence. Like bombs bursting in air, the mountains penetrating clouds in the sky and the beating hooves of time racing toward night. Then there's 'me' sequestered by the moment sauntering on by and me straggling behind, torn by what I'm seeing. Ripped apart by the fantasy of the every changing moods of moment and time briskly bleeding, dying. I can only stay, stay forever and keep her company.


Lean against me forest
On this windy evening
When the sun swallows the horizon
Gulps in the day
Don’t let me feel the cold
I will stay

Even when cold slips onto my bones
And the moon surrenders her light
I will be here

So pull up your sleeves shadow
On this silent evening
When the stars harness their hunger
Suckle in the night
Don’t let me fear the loneliness
I will stay

Even if moments are like the watery brook
Crashing down cliff side, stalling in shimmering pool
I will be here

So rise up to greet me meadow
On this breathless morning
When the moon swallows the horizon
Gulps in the night
Don’t wrestle with my feelings
I will stay

Sunday, November 2, 2008


There were leaves
they whispered along sidewalk
perfectly trimmed
the trees creaked and groaned
and there at my door

I knocked

Nobody answered

I was not what I was before
I could not go there

What I remembered
wasn't remembered
not as I knew it
not as it actually was

It had come to me
that perhaps
I was dead

With eyes that were not eyes,
I struggled
to see

With legs that were not legs
I struggled
to walk

I was discombobulated

I could not see
I could not walk

And what of my place
could I make out?


Only a presence
that did not stop its march
as it rode into my mouth
into my throat
down into my guts
and up into my head
into every corner of me
it rode

Like oil I could not wipe away
such infringement

It is then that I discovered my place
was not terrestrial at all
but far from it

This was not
where I had come from

With eyes that could now see
I blinked
and what there was
of the presence I had felt

Not even an echo

We never did meet

And it was a long time
before I understood why

And seeing next to me
nebula's, galaxies
a kaleidoscope of light

And color
And beauty


I remembered so fondly
that time long ago

My birth

And how, too, this man
would remember
his burgeoning consciousness
coming to life

What gifts I will have given him
what joys he is to feel?

For asleep, he shall now
be awakened

And what he was


Time will pass
as he discovers this place

And I will not show him

I will not be awake
but asleep

And there in front of him
will be the Universe
they will be found

He will discover
that he can affect


In ways he never
could've imagined

And once his eyes open
he will go to a place he's never been
and he will go to another
and another

In each
He will see
He will know
He will learn

He will be a satellite

****This is a poem about life and death, but more importantly about God, a subject I don't tackle often. It is, really, about a man becoming God and God becoming a man. Also, it is of the birthing of one who is thought fit to replace God. And while I am not a religious man, I like to think I have an open mind to ponder the time after death and if one were to be a God, how one would exist. ****

A Satellite is defined as:

[n.] a man-made object that orbits around the earth
[n.] a person who follows or serves another
[n.] any celestial body orbiting around a planet or star
[adj.] Surrounding and dominated by a central authority or power