Wednesday, April 28

Questions to the Momma

Its called 15 shots
going straight to the heart
to control the mind
when all he knew of was two
toxic metal
and mercury
seeping into the softest of hearts
turning it to stone
deepening the meaning of collateral damage
how did this war on terror
grow into so many forgotten wars
never quite expanding into the consciousness of the world

Its an IED exploding all around
and all you can hear is your comrade asking to die
begging for you to take his life
burns covering his body
from base to crown
as you drag your limp body away from the smoldering mess of it all



But then there's the privilege of being considered one of the lucky ones in Port-au-Prince
cause at least there's one whole doctor to your whole 10,000 people compared to the 20,000 to one ratio in rural poor farming towns like Leogane
people now picking through twisted metal mounds that still holds value
that will be melted down somewhere in Beijing
yet even then
there's the police shooting them away
they want to get theirs
too
just the same

So whose to blame?

The wars our fault
the worlds shaking up
turning upside down
vibrating violently
in the most economically devastated parts of the world
perhaps she's trying to wake us up from this deep long slumber were in
full of ignorance
topped with bliss

But why not on wall street momma
or capitol hill
why not in Crawford?
why is it that the strongest of us are left to die?
why is it that the weakest of us are left to lead the rest to our demise?
what's it going to take to wake up?
WAKE UP!?
whats it going to take?

It going to take you and I
Its going to take walking down by the water and see the beauty streaming by
Its going to take rebelling against disassociation
disengagement
and being on the sidelines
Its going to take looking into your neighbors eyes
seeing her deep suffering and asking why
Its going to take you and I
feeding the love of family
of listening to stories
of community
and babies
Yea.
Its going to take you and I
So we must begin
again
and know we have some work to do my fellow friends
We have a whole lot of work to do

Tuesday, April 27

Mirror Reflections

Words seem to escape when trying to explain this internal landscape. So, here, then seems the best way. A poem. A dedication, a presencing to all there is, touching, embracing, surrounding and loving...
 
Its astounding to see these trees come up through this Earth below me - the stable structure reaching far and high, yearning for the life giving fire up above. How grass can grow against the stream of water, carving out a rough history. A single dandelion, fierce in its autonomy, yet deeply grounded in connection. A trunk growing out of a cut down stump, determined to survive. Ground up stone, transformed into sand, now holding the weight of the world. Lessons abound, all around. Truth seeking decay. Leaves still attached from last years fall. Blossoms and butterflies rejoicing in the cycles of life's enthral. Broken branches still carrying a piece of the whole - a microcosm of this journey inherent in it all.

Sunday, April 25

Obsidian and Ashes

the direction of molten rock
created an contortion of perception
covering all she once knew
leaving in its wake obsidian and ashes
cultivating creation of a new structure worth striving for
not unlike the spring time tune of the ranting magpies outside these walls

even so
underneath it all
deep inside
she's crossing a great divide
and yet still the hardened Earth survives
emerging from a different call
yet here she still sits
listening to the insight
wondering what to make of not squandering it all
strolling through her mind like it was an exhibition hall
like she could just take it all down
and see that sweet, sweet clear jar of dill pickles there

careening into
the myriad stories filling up this ocean liner
numerous conceptions
too many to discover
born out of a false reality
existing not here
but in a semblance of some other person
time
place
or mind
not here in this moment of wind blown bursting branches and reflective water streaming by

so now
for the first time she sees it
that in fact
love IS all over the place
and in a moment of erratically orbiting in her darkened sky
she bumps into a glimpse of a brightened nebuli

lasting eons
two days have now passed
and the seeming quickness
has surpassed that of understanding time

now
more cottonwood leaf green shows
still growing
yet there was always that flow
she just didn't notice as she walked by
ran by
sleeping by
but its that percolation
of hibernation
that throws her back into the coil
a streaming convolution
repeating
for some reason
but knowing that cycle is not worth anything less then cosmic appreciation

just now
a bud emerges from the other side of winter's shadow
after such a delicate spiraling to greet us and the wind once again
this continual birthing of life
blossoming
right before her
manifesting in this moment
just this
just now
and with a swan dive into shark infested waters
bloodied
and brave
she begins again
again
and again

Tuesday, April 20

On Discovering Meaning, Fullfillment and Joy

being with exuberance seems like a solid way to find greater meaning fulfillment and joy
activism
a sense of autonomy yet realizing true interconnectedness
bed-fellows
connecting deeper with junipers and spring time grasses
being open to the myriad possible present realities existing right here and now
maintaining connection to this dharma
cultivating this kind of true presence
bearing witness to my own internal processes and not pushing them back into the abyss of denial
steering clear of that precipice of doubt
maintaining a strong commitment to my admiration of ant piles and sambas are all ways in which i find greater fulfillment, meaning and joy

when i look to the dusk sky and see that massive fire ball dancing ever so gracefully towards the horizon
nightly, he's always there...like love.
like darkness.
like air.
like those brave brave birds that stay all winter long.
like those brave brave pines growing through stone.
like those brave brave moms raising those kids the best that she know how
like loving, unconditionally.
fearlessly.
openly.
like its the first time...
over and over and over again.
like a newborn's smell
or
enjoying the scent of the apple blossom outside my window carried by the east wind.
open fields, vast sky.
fierce ocean at moon rise

being, inter-being with all there is
whether it be in Haiti, New Orleans, Palestine or Tibet.
whether it be in red dirt, brown clay, moss or primal forest

the shadows that cast upon my paper as i write under this 3'oclock westward moving sun bring to me a great sense of meaning

seeing my soul reflected in those piercingly mysterious and luminous green eyes
by dim light
lips, thighs,
yours and mine
deeply penetrating stares
and the intention to simply be
bring to me untold clarity
and meaning
fulfillment
and joy

Wednesday, April 14

Reminder to No Self

Kahlil Gibran on Love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Tuesday, April 6

Listening Eyes, Seeing Ears

texas
sitting at the base of a majestic mountain
gazing into valleys and dips of grace
after having passed through the depths of disparaging images
capitalism has created
this uninhabited land is much welcomed

seeing corporate america sprawling through
trains filled to the max with plastic shit from sweat shops in china
or malyasia
or mexico
or...
seeing these diesel engines cutting through the vast wide open expanse
of Earth's heart
it nauseating. infuriating. despairing.
sorrowful that the beauty of this visual boundlessness is not enough for most eyes
that somehow her living womb of serenity and calm are being bludgeoned by the fallacies of big oil
or walmart
just existing there
in solidarity with all that concrete
that it stands upon
bold in its presence
as if its as timeless as this mountain

i see the bloodstains of colonization continue here
as the fallacious oil rigs penetrate her
even deeper this time
cutting through her soft shell
yet somehow we continue this
before our wisest and oldest Mother can pass on the millena of ancestral wisdom
but wait
i'm getting negative again, aren't i?

if only we could listen to north winds
to the hawks
and rushing rivers
to the bears and coyotes
or the night sky
we'd see for the first time

we'd hear that azure horizon fading into those delicate hues of amethyst which ever so slightly smudge into gentle hints of crimson before gracefully touching her skin
delicate
gentle
graceful

Friday, April 2

159.96257.4 Miles

its a deep yearning there
somewhere
in those cavernous depths of my heart

a soul connection discovered
transcendent of the distance between us
tonight i'm longing for your tender embrace
your sweet breath of life

the once fierce fires of hypnotic rapture
are now settling into the eternal embers before me
still popping
crackling
with quietude and serenity
preparing
now
for a passionate evening of repose

Thursday, April 1

Its Called We Must Rise

its a perpetual game of who gets what
in this 21st century grab of greed

wondering out loud to myself
whats my part in this
what can i do in the next four years
for the next seven generations
to come

will they come?

whats this in the name of?

whats this game for?

its called Gaza getting barricaded
surrounded my publicly funded military and lies

Afghanistan getting bombed
as people seek out limbs to reattach from the land mines

Iraq getting colonized
by my government so they can have the biggest eyes

its my sisters getting raped in Haiti as they attempt to find a safe place to pee
next to their tent city
amongst the rubble
and dead bodies
still waiting to be found

its the fence their trying to build
to keep the movement out of our front yard
the illegal immigrant just trying to make due
cause the maquiladoras
the conquistadors
turned them away for asking for a living wage

its the polar bears
drowning
cause their ice ain't keeping cold no more
from our ignorance
and privilege

our 21st century ways

its the clear cuts

those trucks
trucking past
in the pacific northwest
with the carcasses of my distant ancestors
being carted off to their demise

our demise
this is our demise
we must rise
yes. we must rise