The beloved asked her lover
when did you first love me?
The lover replied
I loved you before mirrors
before I could recognize my own reflection.
I loved you before I knew the words "I" and "You"
I loved you before names
and before the myriad forms.
I loved you before the need for any number greater than one.
I loved you before the sea of beginnings forever born.
I loved you before the Moon became enamored of the Earth.
I loved you blind, before sight, before light
before death and before life.
I loved you when there was only Love
and Time and Space had to be created
just so Love could find expression.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
confessions p 22
Sometimes, I can see all the world's ills in myself.
To some degree or another
I can see that which we recognize as good or evil in my own heart.
If that is the case, and all our hearts are the playground of conflicting dualities
why do we point fingers at one another?
As if we are all not fighting our own battles.
As if we are all not hosts to a variety of angels and demons
in the recesses of our own imaginations.
**
To be continued...
To some degree or another
I can see that which we recognize as good or evil in my own heart.
If that is the case, and all our hearts are the playground of conflicting dualities
why do we point fingers at one another?
As if we are all not fighting our own battles.
As if we are all not hosts to a variety of angels and demons
in the recesses of our own imaginations.
**
To be continued...
Thursday, August 9, 2012
confessions p 21
She asked me
How can you judge me differently than yourself?
What double standards
What rhetoric
What mask of your ego
protects you from your own judgement?
How are we different?
What socially constructed right
do you hide your belief
that you are somehow better
different, wiser, more clever
to be measured by your own standards?
Through what omniscience do you know
the context of the hearts' and minds' of men & women?
Through which divine clairvoyance
do you understand why people do what they do?
What sacred knowledge grants you the ease
To judge others and forget that the greatest battles
we fight are with ourselves?
Words hung their heads before the tip of my tongue
They checked their flight and speechless
Recognition dawned.
She was I and I was she.
When I spoke against her
I spoke against myself.
When I tickled her ego
I tickled my own.
When I worked toward her liberation
I worked toward my own.
With eyes like mirrors she looked at me
Twin rivers streaking down my face, my hands
Trying to hold an ocean of forgotten self-inflictions.
She took my hands in her own
wiped the tears from our faces
And watching myself
in the hieroglyphics of her irises
She said
This world is like standing atop a mountain
Whatever you say makes its way back to you
So choose your words carefully
The only judge here is the echo of our own voice
How can you judge me differently than yourself?
What double standards
What rhetoric
What mask of your ego
protects you from your own judgement?
How are we different?
What socially constructed right
do you hide your belief
that you are somehow better
different, wiser, more clever
to be measured by your own standards?
Through what omniscience do you know
the context of the hearts' and minds' of men & women?
Through which divine clairvoyance
do you understand why people do what they do?
What sacred knowledge grants you the ease
To judge others and forget that the greatest battles
we fight are with ourselves?
Words hung their heads before the tip of my tongue
They checked their flight and speechless
Recognition dawned.
She was I and I was she.
When I spoke against her
I spoke against myself.
When I tickled her ego
I tickled my own.
When I worked toward her liberation
I worked toward my own.
With eyes like mirrors she looked at me
Twin rivers streaking down my face, my hands
Trying to hold an ocean of forgotten self-inflictions.
She took my hands in her own
wiped the tears from our faces
And watching myself
in the hieroglyphics of her irises
She said
This world is like standing atop a mountain
Whatever you say makes its way back to you
So choose your words carefully
The only judge here is the echo of our own voice
Monday, July 16, 2012
conversations with poets p. 2
X:
Oh poet o poet, you stole all the lyrics, left none for me. Inspiration is gone and no longer comes easily. Oh muse of music, now it is my turn to hold the key
Y:
Oh mirror o mirror, the lyrics are the shell, what they hold is everlasting. Inspiration is a well that runs deeper than the deepest well in the world, older than the oldest star in the universe, and as long as there are those to contemplate Reality's ineffable effulgence, inspiration will never run dry.
Oh poet o poet, you stole all the lyrics, left none for me. Inspiration is gone and no longer comes easily. Oh muse of music, now it is my turn to hold the key
Y:
Oh mirror o mirror, the lyrics are the shell, what they hold is everlasting. Inspiration is a well that runs deeper than the deepest well in the world, older than the oldest star in the universe, and as long as there are those to contemplate Reality's ineffable effulgence, inspiration will never run dry.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Origins
Whether we are God's creation
Progeny of Adam and Eve
Or children of the stars
And the stepping stones of evolution
Whether everything
Or nothing is a miracle
Whether scientists discover the origin of our Universe
Or theologians find irrefutable evidence of God
Whether alchemy or aliens
Whether intelligent design
Or evolutionary theory
At one point
Something arose
From Nothing
From Nothing
Whether it was the Big Bang or Seven Days
At one point
Everything as we know it
Materialized from absolutely nothing
Materialized from absolutely nothing
And that is all I need to know
There are holes big enough for our Universe
within the theories and understanding of men
Whether they wear white lab coats or ceremonial robes
Most sell false gold coated in certainty
So give me no gold, certainty or white robes
Take me away from everything
That takes me away from this
Each moment, each breath
A reminder of that pre-eternal dance
From Nothing to Something
A reminder of that pre-eternal dance
From Nothing to Something
Thursday, July 5, 2012
ruminations p 1
...I peered into the mirror and saw you...
...Instead of a heart, she had a mirror,
everyone who looked at her saw a reflection of themselves...
...The ugliest thing a mirror can show you is yourself...
..In my lover's memory, I traced a path completely my own...
...There is no rose without thorns...
...Hold me like your Starbucks in winter...
...I am not made of ice, to melt from a little salt...
...Falling in and out of fuck...
...The most beautiful thing a mirror can show you is yourself...
...If it bleeds, let it...
...I just went through a whole day, and I'm still asleep...
...If it beats, don't stop...
...I slept through the snooze, rushed to work, and when I got there
my dream said wake the fuck up...
...We're all stories waiting to be granted an audience...
...Instead of a heart, she had a mirror,
everyone who looked at her saw a reflection of themselves...
...The ugliest thing a mirror can show you is yourself...
..In my lover's memory, I traced a path completely my own...
...There is no rose without thorns...
...Hold me like your Starbucks in winter...
...I am not made of ice, to melt from a little salt...
...Falling in and out of fuck...
...The most beautiful thing a mirror can show you is yourself...
...If it bleeds, let it...
...I just went through a whole day, and I'm still asleep...
...If it beats, don't stop...
...I slept through the snooze, rushed to work, and when I got there
my dream said wake the fuck up...
...We're all stories waiting to be granted an audience...
Sea of the moment
A hush gently drapes the early morning, like mist
over everything there is a dull glow
like headlights through thick fog.
Within this sleepy silence
there appears no movement
only a kind of effortless sway
a serene dance between light and shadow,
tree leaf and grass blade; heartbeat,
breath and each blink of the eye.
Sitting here witness to the blossoming sea of the moment
I can't help but ask
why move unnecessarily?
Why assume that I really know better?
Why grasp? Why move away from this moment?
Why impose myself onto this magnificent mural,
this bewildering tapestry that I can scarcely understand?
I just want to be as here as possible
I just want to be as me as possible.
And when I run that course
I turn around and stop running.
One by one, I remove every article of clothing,
every trinket that I have collected along this road
and one by one, those memories slip from my fingers
and the wind carries away the pieces of my heart.
over everything there is a dull glow
like headlights through thick fog.
Within this sleepy silence
there appears no movement
only a kind of effortless sway
a serene dance between light and shadow,
tree leaf and grass blade; heartbeat,
breath and each blink of the eye.
Sitting here witness to the blossoming sea of the moment
I can't help but ask
why move unnecessarily?
Why assume that I really know better?
Why grasp? Why move away from this moment?
Why impose myself onto this magnificent mural,
this bewildering tapestry that I can scarcely understand?
I just want to be as here as possible
I just want to be as me as possible.
And when I run that course
I turn around and stop running.
One by one, I remove every article of clothing,
every trinket that I have collected along this road
and one by one, those memories slip from my fingers
and the wind carries away the pieces of my heart.
Migrating birds
Somehow, I've always known what is to be done.
This life, this chance of beautiful breath
can not be lived for my sake alone.
I can not subsist by myself
this I know.
Where I'm going, feet won't take me
shoes and shawl can offer no comfort.
Where I'm going, memories do not follow.
So before this body's time is up
I would ask for wings from my dreams
to fly my soul to that final destination.
This life, this chance of beautiful breath
can not be lived for my sake alone.
I can not subsist by myself
this I know.
Where I'm going, feet won't take me
shoes and shawl can offer no comfort.
Where I'm going, memories do not follow.
So before this body's time is up
I would ask for wings from my dreams
to fly my soul to that final destination.
confessions p 20
I always believed beauty was in the effortless dance
of a leaf caught in the breeze, a laughing rose
the revolving night sky, serene passing of clouds
and the slow growth of root to branch to fruit...
But effortlessly, is how I want to waltz and tango through these killing fields
Effortlessly, is how I want to bleed.
of a leaf caught in the breeze, a laughing rose
the revolving night sky, serene passing of clouds
and the slow growth of root to branch to fruit...
But effortlessly, is how I want to waltz and tango through these killing fields
Effortlessly, is how I want to bleed.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
confessions p 19
I want to kiss someone who has tasted darkness
fall in love with the heartbroken
and drink with one who has known thirst.
***
I want to break bread with you
and hit the road with you.
I want to rush through a day with you
only to watch the stars on our backs at night.
I want to work up an appetite with you
See the sweat gather and glisten on your skin
The sun reflected in the hieroglyphics of your irises.
I want to watch your calves clench
as your toes tell the stories of your swaying hips to the earth.
I want to share a meal with you
when we're both hungry and there's not much food.
I don't need to know how you got your scars
but I want to see how you carry them.
I want to see you when you're alone with your soul.
I want to hear all the frequencies of your voice
I want to know what keeps you up at night
what drives you and what lies at the heart of your heart.
I want to take in your silences
and taste the salt of your tears.
I want to see you in all your colors
your arrays of yellows, blues and reds
I want all your shades of black and white
your purples, your bruises
and the scarlet of your scars.
Don't you dare hold back such beautiful history from me.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Thank you p. 2
Today, I am at peace
I slept a full night
With a full belly, under warm covers
and the roof of a friend
I arose in the morning with red breasted robins
To a mid Spring sky
I rode a bike through a park of tulips
And wooden bridges winding along a canal
I felt the mist from the falls
Everywhere there was light
Through the fingers of a child chasing butterflies
On the tip of my lashes when I faced the sun
Glinting off passing cars and bicycle handles
Like the slow streak of meteorites in a time lapse video.
I slept a full night
With a full belly, under warm covers
and the roof of a friend
I arose in the morning with red breasted robins
To a mid Spring sky
I rode a bike through a park of tulips
And wooden bridges winding along a canal
I felt the mist from the falls
Everywhere there was light
Through the fingers of a child chasing butterflies
On the tip of my lashes when I faced the sun
Glinting off passing cars and bicycle handles
Like the slow streak of meteorites in a time lapse video.
Smoked out
Smoke ribbons under lamp light
Dance and drag coiling skirts
Behind a cherry orbit
***
Love is like a joint
It can't stay in one hand for long.
So take a few tokes
And pass it to the person closest to your left rib.
Dance and drag coiling skirts
Behind a cherry orbit
***
Love is like a joint
It can't stay in one hand for long.
So take a few tokes
And pass it to the person closest to your left rib.
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