Monday, November 30

omens of change

found a decapitated crow
in my path
on the road
near the curb
the other day

noticed my own state reflected back
as we walked past

stopped to pick up crow
find crow a proper resting place

wondered what the message was
what kind of omen
comes in the shape of a decapitated crow?

from where i am now
i see it all laid out before me
detached from the mind
beyond goodbyes
how this keeper of sacred law died
or answers as to why
no past
no present
no future
simultaneous continuation
unspoken actualities
of all those possibilities
to take flight
merging the dark and light

brought the messenger to a final resting place
found some rich, fertile cedar soil
and stared into deaths face
released something
that seemed a bit distant at the time
but is with with me now
as i sift through the signs

so goodbye for now
my crow friend
rest well
take flight into the night
into the darkness of creation
birthing a whole new journey
of inexhaustible transformation

Sunday, November 29

building blocks

stumbled upon those rocks
that were laid in the dark of the night
on a path that seemed smooth

made me reconsider the plan

cause from
where i now stand
i've got better understanding
of it all

impermanence is real
change is a staple
and life
brings us to our building blocks
if we allow ourselves to feel

facing our shadow, saying goodbye

Isis keeps appearing
she's got secrets to unlock
past life memories to unfurl
i can kinda see it through the clouds
all strewn about now

the connection we shared
didn't define us
or our past
it transcended the boundaries
we created
beyond space
or time
beyond perceived notions
of our conceptual reality
beyond it all of our black hole

and out of unseen depths
a holographic image arose
cause regardless of it all now
we're still part of the whole

and i'd say it was fun
but it mostly broke my heart

yet down in the lush fertile forest
i still found the clues
so perhaps it ain't time
perhaps it was never mine
perhaps the passersby were startled by the star dust
settling off so fine

what ever happened to the concrete line
we drew in the sand?
did it get covered by the lies
this miraculous time?
or was it there all along?
what truth?
what lies?

i can tell
your presence was stolen by the booze
it wasn't you
it just simply wasn't you

so i forgive you
but i won't forget

i'm moving out now
of this lush fertile forest
going to find the star dust of mine
high up in the wide open deep desert sky
that was planted in that blink of an eye

goodbye seattle. i release you:
i release you and wish you well
to listen to your guts
to find your truths
to emerge from the depths
i release you

Saturday, November 28

notes full of infidelity and lies

the weight of their lies
is stacking upon her now
she's fallen
after unexpectedly smacking into them

and in the midst of their stories
she feels broken

but like the phoenix she is
she will rise
she will rise again

Three years in that city

Its a slightly heartbreaking goodbye
as I pass over those city lights
on this late autumn night

I want to cry
but I can't
I suppose the sadness seems superimposed
as if its how I should feel

I gave three years to this city of roses
this city of lights
unearthed some of my deepest truths
even through the lies
cause sometimes lovers and friendships
and even the grayest of days
can't cover that truth

spent three years in this city
it took all I had
I gave all I could
and was brought to my edge

propelled to the south
deeper into the layers of what
i'm about to find out

Wednesday, November 25

Line 72- Killingsworth/82nd

This world is too harsh
rooted in oppression
poverty is the common denominator
and fear is the reserve

what eye contact is made
is dropped in a flash
snippets of this story
is past
way past

power lines prevalent above the homes of poverty's kin
pollution prevails
this kills

a friendship mistook
by a smile
the possibility of connection
brazed in denial

this line ends with a disabled man
in his wheelchair
sitting on a meridian
anticipating help
in the cold northwest winter rain
watching the distracted traffic whiz by
there's no room
for even a smile

Friday, November 20

Goddess' above, Goddess' below

staying close to those depths
of Yemanja's ocean blue
under a new moon sky
she finds the truth 

stars fuel her wonder
and she begins to fly
slowly her leap of faith
became a deeper sense of origen
and immersed in the love
was aine

and now she stands
on firm ground
watching the goddess'
rise up from all around

and even though
the sirens scream
she sits in stillness
focused on that internal beam

Monday, November 16

Breaking fractically

What becomes of those place you leave?
of saying goodbye
with no intention to return?

Friday, November 13

Wonderment before the dawn

My mind is holding onto
those times we screamed and yelled
those times I'd wake up
and find myself in hell

three in the morning
and there I was
walking alone through those drenched streets

thinking now
it appears that I should have kept on
years ago
towards that cloudy morning sky
cause even the clouds change
even the sun will rise

and sometimes I still feel so bitter
that it takes me by surprise

I mean
I know its was childish
we acted as if we were the demise
as if we had to stay

yet still
every-time I think of her
I see myself reflected back

she'd be getting messed up

those were the times she'd throw stones at my wonderment
and I would be left
with my disbelief
shattering any hopes for less grief
or babies
or bliss

Wednesday, November 11

an abundance of greed

signaling the release of something gone awry
the army of the free world's liberation
is cultivating a serious mass delusion
thru the riot gear i still it
thru the rubber bullets i still know
the listlessness of the soldiers
speaks of the place these young people have woken up to
and now
i'm hearing reports come in
something about a covert operation in Pakistan
what happened in Iraq
El Salvador
their trying to conquer the world
as they sweep our media under the carpets
the cheney's and rumsfield's and obama's are not far apart
in the game for global dominance

these criminals of war are comparably abundant
as the polar bears without a home
or the g-20 riot gear in Philly
or the tops of mountains being removed for coal
or the sacred sites of indigenous Americans
being desecrated with the IAEA lies and filth

Tuesday, November 10

Ocean desert rendezvous

Sitting in the forested park
watching playful punk kids perform poetry
doesn't quite compare to
at the edge of mommas dry land
contemplating my descent down
into the moist depths of my own unknown darkness

It all goes by so fast

as I sit here
watching these playful punk kids perform poetry in a park
in the high desert of Santa Fe
I'm reminded of the stark impermanence of it all

Monday, November 9

Sunsets of Grace

Enshrouded by the rapture
Caught in the blaze of the setting sun
I cry
in the midst of this New Mexican sky

Friday, November 6

Prisms of Light

So this going inwards seems to be all that I've asked for, all that I need. Deeply penetrating truths emerge and out I come from from what was perceived as an abyss into the most glorious canyons at sunrise. And at worst, I see parts of myself strewn about, laid out before me. They don't seem to connect, yet remain recognizably mine. All those years of questioning seem counterintuitive to this process. But when flashlights of the moonshine glory sets in, in as in inwardly, I see all I've been missing, all I've become. All I've ignored. All I've run from. Yes, here in this place I see pure form. Minus the thoughts, feelings, perceptions, the norms. I have a sense of returning home. The embodiment of Vesta fills me to my brim. A sense of completion takes hold and all that is emerges from the caverns of this mindbody. There I sit, in zazen, facing an adobe wall. Hints of light reflecting the inherent fallacies I've created. And as a prism redirects and transform light, so too does this.