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crying to the rain

2008-03-06T15:52:06Z

sing of joy
now that you are free
captivate my life
and all that i will be
faintly falling ashes
whispers in my heart
dreams of being together
thoughts i wish would part
left here in the darkness
alone within these walls
crying to the rain
praying for it to fall
to wash away my tears
to bring to you rebirth
to bring you back to me
to breakaway my hurt.
i wirte to you in verse
i speak to you in rhyme
i pray that you can hear me
i dream of you all the time,
losing you wasnt easy
and in all my poems of pain,
im reminded of your smile,
i long to hear your laugh again.
i know they dont understandit
how we miss you here on earth
im crying to the rain
crying for your rebirth

posted in poetree - 3 replies

My Venus

2008-03-06T15:37:18Z

Venus

The dam breaks/
I am flowing/
One quick glance in
The first moment
Of those sweet blues
And the lashes behind
The rose colored glasses
And fuck/
I am enamoured/
Intrigued/
My creativity
Is sparked/
And I think I want you/

My womb following
The ancient cycle/
Tracing the path
In the summer night sky
dark/sacred/new blood moon
to a whisper at the crescent
of the climax to come at the full/
And tonight/
Rings around the moon/
And I think I want you/

Full August moon/
Ten years to the moon/
Since I was blessed
By the Venus mother
Early morning
Summer sunlight
Catching my eye
Like a prism/
love~light~energy
flowing and I am Venus/
maiden/mother & crone/
She blesses me with
her sacred Taurus child

The planets, stars and all
the atoms in my body weave an
Intricate dance within the
Universe/
the pull of Venus
At the Lunar Lammas moon
Makes me want you/

The full August moonlight
catching my eye
like a prism/
love~light~energy
flowing and I am Venus/
maiden/mother & crone/
She blesses me with
her sacred Taurus child

Jade
8/7/2006

posted in poetree - 2 replies

spilled in spatters... dreams pour out the latter

2008-03-06T15:33:48Z

nineteen eighty four
new speak beyond babble
now we got google news
search terms are minibattles
in the minds eye I & I do defy
to find peace through rationalization
instead of be-ing
that which is felt fuels faith
feeling takes patience to appreciate
interest in calmpounding fates to solidify states
in cubicles
all which is not suitable to the soul
who yearns to be free and express
the true self outside the labyrinth of body mind drama
existing in a state of terror i seek international waters
rather reveal the ocean beyond what we've accepted as matter(s)
spilled ink splatters
dreams pour out the latter

posted in poetree - 0 replies

poetry of falling leaves

2007-12-23T01:15:04Z

the poetry of falling leaves.

Love is a blindness which gone wild walks into walls of imperfection, these walls are seamless as the sky, and though we climb, these walls go higher than the object of our love.

They are the cradle of our hearts desire, these walls of imperfection, and with all the power of our innocence we rise ever upward towards our ideal, however perfect it may be.

Who among us hasn’t suffered with a vision cast out into the unknown, and seen that vision shine from above, bright as any sun, unattainable yet clearly showing the way.
Who among us has not been led astray, and aspired to escape the earth, and leave the entire world behind, even to forget ourselves and who we really are.

For this dream of perfect love, we flicker out and fall, first to sit in the sun, then to go down, down, and down into the shadow of our hearts.

What sadness it is to linger on, when no creature in the world will cry for you.

Weep world! Weep! And set my soul free.

Down to the roots of the earth I return, to linger upon the silence of a tree.

posted in poetree - 1 reply

this is my inspiration, I don't know where i fit in. but it might go down here.

2007-12-21T12:14:31Z

Insanity is the mind rebelling against itself.

THE FAITH of trees

1. The Faith of Trees.

There is beauty in the trees, with green that shines like gold. The sun is the halo of the trees, and on some days when the clouds grow dark and their black blocks the sun, the trees seek no shelter, but rather strongly sway under the crack of lightning.
Whilst other creatures fritter and flee, wether they are large or small, and wether they are slow or have speed, all in all they sing no more, and their movement once merry and wild and bright with the force of nature becomes no more than the ritual seeking of shelter. It is a pity to watch a sad creature moaning and shivering wet in the cold.
The trees however, for the duration of the storm their green darkens to a richness that comes from within. They shake and dance with the deadly wind as both a defiance and an accessory. Thunder peals from the clouds and the trees grow restless with expectancy, for the clouds bring rain, and all trees know this, that the rain brings sustenance so that trees may grow taller. And one day, so it is told firm amongst the tree-trunks, and whispered with delicate understanding amongst the leaves who clutch in fear against the wind, a single tree may grow tall enough to reach the sun, though no one knows whom this tree might be, or when it will happen. But when it is finally achieved the trees will no longer need the sun for a Halo. The trees will be a sustenance unto themselves. Such is the wisdom of trees, and their cause for revering the sun and the heights of the sky as they do.

The wisdom and faith of trees also encourages them into certain acts of kindness. Though many believe the trees incapable of action, is it not true that they house the birds, and as an act of kindness do nothing to prevent the birds from making themselves at home. This is no mean accomplishment, considering the sought of mixed feelings that a bird can conjure up within a tree, what with flying so lighthearted to heights that a tree works twice as hard only to dream of, and on the destructive nature of the wind at that. Many a tree, both in the past and in the future, has wished that with all its might it could standover the birds and throw them from its branches, and many have come close to doing so. Even further, some fanatical trees suffering deep with envy, have at times desired to pull the birds from the sky, so that none may fly higher than the tree-tops again. But alas, such an act would be a small victory, for the trees in doing so would be no closer to the sun, and the wisdom of the tree-trunk tells them that the birds may yet serve a purpose beyond merely taunting and tempting them, the silent seeds amongst the branches seem to shake knowingly, and with pure potential at such a thought, though no one knows why. But still, never has a single branch or twig ever shaken with malicious intent against a bird, and this is a powerful act of the faith of trees.

It is not so much the heights birds reach that can inflame a trees indignancy, it is more the birds chosen means of doing so. For the trees hate the wind as a destroyer, few things can bring down a tree so quickly and suddenly, and with such a devastatingly visual display than the wind, and many leaves and branches have been torn from the hold of the tree-trunk, to be lost forever into the great unknown. Such wanton waste without adequate compensation, the wind is evil and can only come to harm a tree. The birds so carefree, soar to places which no tree can know, the tree’s stand in awe of their height, and so love them and maintain peace with them, the birds song however is bittersweet, for it comes from above, yet it is carried by the wind, and the birds seem to delight in taunting the trees with their flight.
‘Nothing that can soar to such heights can be entirely bad,’ says the tree trunk.
But still, the birds fly in the face of a tree’s reasoning, and are constant tempters to a tree’s faith.

2. The Paradox of Trees and the Nature of Their Society.

The tree trunks specifically, and more so than any other parts of the tree, long for the heights of the sky. For it is their lot that they have become the centre and stubborn strength of the tree’s society, so stubborn in fact that most other animals in the wild would call them stupid. Even us humans have not attributed the tree trunks with much thought, which is probably why not much is known about their society. And besides, the trees are well aware of what the other animals say about them. So much so that they have turned the tables completely and over time come to see being stupid as a compliment concerning their faithful stubbornness. Indeed, you could walk right up to a tree-trunk and say right to its face, if it had one, that it was thick and stupid, and it would love you for it, for quite literally it has a head full of wood.
Well, not really, because it has no head at all, but still, whatever it has consists almost entirely of wood. This is the reason for all of the tree-trunks glorious stupidity and stubbornness and faith, and it spreads out at varying degrees through the whole tree.
The roots who never see the sun, but collect and toil and ballast against the wind, who work in the dark depths with the worms and the dead silent, life rich soil of the earth. It is the roots that love the invisible sun, who hold the force of inspiration to dig deeper and in doing so nourish the rest of the tree. The roots are full of contradictions. They love the sun and therefore cherish the darkness, they long for the heights and so must dig deeper and further away from sight. They love the silence of soil below more than the sky. They are friend to the worms.
It is true words that say the roots of trees are dark and strange, and it is only by their connection with the tree trunk, through which they have been given an ample supply of stubbornness, that any animal would believe them of tree kind at all.
The roots are no less stupid than the tree-trunk, but due to their complexities, and the innate polarities of their existence, they have for a long time, in fact for as long as time can tell, been endowed with powers way beyond themselves. The upper parts of the tree see the roots as the keepers of hidden wisdom, the secret strength.
The tree-trunk however, who is strong and stupid in its faith, maintains that the sun is always the inspiration of the darkness, and therefore the precursor to all knowledge.
The leaves and branches listen intently, and absorb the tree-trunks wisdom as truth; the tree-trunk is so highly respected. It is ironic that it is also to blame for the mystical surroundings of the roots, for when the leaves cry, as they are prone to do, and when they see their brother and sister leaves blown far and wild unknown in all the directions of the wind, and they ask why and for the meaning of things. The tree trunk tells them with all of its faith shining dull and stupid as wood, that although the leaves when perished blow wild with the wind, in whatever direction, it is always to the roots that they return. And it continues by saying that although it mourns every leaf blown astray, it also celebrates the fact that its death feeds the whole, and would go even further by saying that the entire earth is made from fallen leaves. The leaves and branches listen intently, and absorb the tree-trunks wisdom as truth. It seems ludicrous that the world is made from fallen leaves, and most people would write this off as merely poetic, but I daresay there are some leaves who believe this as true, and love the earth as though it were composed of their own being and nothing else. In truth they are alike to the earth as the child is to a mother. In a sense they are one and the same, but in more immediately powerful ways they are both entirely different.

The leaves are much like humankind in the fact that they face death as a reality every day, and in knowing death as something more real and constant than most other parts of the tree they feel deepest the shadow of doubt, they feel the wisdom of the tree-trunk as the light of inspiration, something that is beyond them, and which they cling to all the same as it were life itself.
It is the tree-trunk who is most unlike humanity, for as humanity values gold and all things that are rare, the faithfully stupid tree-trunk loves what is most common, namely, wood, as this is its almost entire composition, and its reason for being, it’s only way of reaching the sun.

3. Samuel the Tree.

Now there was one tree, whose name was Samuel, and I can talk about him now that we both share a deeper understanding of him. For he is much like any other tree, and if you can name him as a whole tree, then it would be like the name of a city, because there are many parts of a tree, as many parts to a tree as there is to an individual person, and a person has a name that encompasses the whole, so Samuel the tree is known as Samuel, though there are many parts that encompass him.
He was a fine tree, and he grew away from the wild forest with which many associate the truth of trees. His life was in a garden, though he did not grow on the same terms as the garden, he was wild and tall as the forest through which his faith and instinct dreamed of. And many birds came to him and made their home, though as of yet Samuel had never met an entirely wise bird, so he reasoned that half wise was all that one could expect a bird to be.

Other plant life, though they loved and respected Samuel, found that they could not get close to him in height, for so tall and wide was the reach of his branches, and so impressive was his desire for the sun, that a great shadow was cast on all the land beneath him.
This shadow was cast from Samuel’s love of the sun, and he was so respected amongst the grass and flowers and shrubs that they all seemed to grow regardless, as if they had forsaken the sun for him, or else the sun lived vicariously through Samuel.

If any tree wished to grow as tall they would not so much have to reckon with Samuel himself, who was benevolent and respected such things as independence within a tree. But his shadow flat over the grassland, cast over perfectly bunched flowers cased in borders of stone.
His shadow, gold as the dead leaves of an autumn that is eternal and far beyond Samuel’s control.
If any tree were inspired to grow then it would have to do so outside of the shadows reach, from a distance gathering the sunlight, and from a distance the inspiration of Samuel reaching quiet across the open air, with life so strong and a song that no wind however constant can carry or do away with.

4. Samuel and Eli.

Shallowness is a grave that is dug six feet below, but deep in the shadow of Samuel, amongst the birds and the flowers and the bees that they bring. Amongst the darkness of beautifully coloured roses sat the stump of an old tree withered and warm with the buzzing of wildlife. With crooked edges staggering up dead in the air and remnants of old earth stuffed into its cracks like mould. Strung together with spider webs wet in the morning dew and spun by unseen spiders, creatures cast deep in wooden caves. The thorns of the surrounding flowers pierced the air like a funeral, though none of them knew the stump in life. To them it was as nameless as the ever-present earth.
Samuel referred to the stump as Eli, and he never referred to him at all except under the most strenuous circumstances. He would cry through the Thickness of a storm and in the silence that follows faraway lightning,
“By the stump of Eli I will not fall, two stumps do not make a tree, and it takes less of a tree to make two stumps, and so by the stump of old Eli who lives in the dark of my own shadow I will not fall.”
And under flashing bright skies he would seem to grow impossibly tall and invigorated. Somewhere in the world the sun would be smiling, and the darkness of Samuel’s shadow, combined with the black valley of the clouds above, would render the old stump near invisible, with no light and only the pelting rain that filtered through a canopy of leaves to piece together its ancient shape in the dark.

Long ago when Eli was alive, before the roses bloomed, and before Samuel’s fingers stretched out across the sky, back then there was a wide-open space of fresh air between Eli and Samuel who were both growing freely. Eli was the younger of the two, and Samuel had watched him mature from when he was a young thing yet to grow his first seeds. Together they developed an understanding of life’s mysteries. They lost leaves together and danced with the perilous wind under the sun. Trees are always on the go, as any silent and selfless observer can see, and as it is true that through stillness and quiet a certain truth of life can be seen, so through stillness and quiet both Samuel and Eli grew young and vigorous. They were the only two trees in the vicinity of each other, and so grew to rely upon one another’s character, though as of yet they both remained untested.
Samuel in his youth was firm in his faith and was already showing early signs of stupidity. He considered himself as a fountain of wisdom, growing tall and strong in his stubbornness as all trees should. The birds laughed mockingly with songs of sweet bird faith as they flew above him. Samuel was never tempted to betray his own, even when the birds made their home amongst his leaves he only grew taller. In his dealings with the wind as well, Samuel was never one to give way. If any experienced tree were present then they would love him as the one who would one day reach the sun, though such a thing is presumptuous and a sacrilege to speak of.
But it is true that it took more than a light breeze to make Samuel sway, and Eli would be swinging strongly with the wind before Samuel would even twitch a leaf. For Eli loved the birds so deeply, and even the deadly wind he loved so strong that he would forsake himself for the winds own love, and even though the wind loves nothing but its own cause, so Eli would dwell in his own fascination for the winds own lack of love.

5. Secrets of the Wind and the Changing Colour of the Clouds.

One day of sunshine, that now hangs deep in the past like a star, it was the kind of day that Samuel can now only dream of, for the sun was a young pale yellow and white hue that crossed the borders of the heavens, whereas now it is a big and dark bright orange that covers the sky.
Eli was playing with a light wind beneath Samuel’s branches, the glow of morning could do nothing to shine upon the depths of Eli’s innocence, and still this innocence shone from Eli’s character like an illuminating light from the sky. Eli had heard nothing of what the wind had to say, though with its gentle touch he thought the wind favoured him. In a light and effortless breeze Eli would sway and listen into the deep silence for any secrets the wind may tell, and when the wind was whistling with every turn of breath, and Eli was swaying deeply and wandering what the wind could possibly be saying to the birds to have them reach such heights, It was at these times that Eli achieved such heights within the lowest point of his own spirit. But when the wind blew strong so that even the birds were thrown down and forced to seek refuge within Samuel’s branches, Eli knew then that there were some truths that could not be told, and could be known by none but the wind.

In these past times, though the wind blew just as strong, and life still grew as fervently, the shadows still came and went with the power of the sun, who for all its rising and falling hadn’t changed at all as much as the twisting earth below, though good and bad were still parted out in just an equal measure as today; In this past that for all its brightness outshone the future into darkness, it could be said that the truth was a beautiful thing. The meadows of white clouds were peaceful and the eternal grazing land of the sky seemed open to all that wished to grow. There was not a single thing alive that could fight the deep blue sky, and nothing that could look with heart inside itself and into its dark places and claim to have wisdom higher than the imagination of the clouds.
Then one day the clouds grew dark and the truth became something harsh. The daytime sunlight diminished and the sky disappeared. The birds scattered into the shaking leaves of Samuel whose silent strength was cast down deep into the darkness of his roots. Storms had been before, but this time the clouds rolled in from the horizon and in great numbers clashed like warring continents in the sky, as their silence faded through to thunder that shook the empty air and resonated with a boom so serious it could have come from below the very earth itself.
The wind was singing profusely and loudly songs that nothing else alive could sing, and any creature that had no depth or cause to be alive was quickly blown away. All things were clinging tight to the earth for any sense of stability they could find, and though they held against the earth for fear of the wind taking them, still their spirits were flying with the wind in fear as though it were an everlasting truth. The uncertainty of the future, which was once a scary thing for the innocence of the earth to ponder, now became an only hope and a perpetual safeguard against troubled times, though the wind picked up stronger and drove away the meaning of many things, so that to some the future became nothing at all.

6. Eli and the Storm.

The grass whipped and belted with the wind against the earth, the seasons were swept away, rocks hard and strong were rolling ruined in the mud, Samuel was standing tall. As the weakest of his branches cracked and were fallen to the ground in despair, the best of Eli’s leaves were shaking clear and bright with hidden inspiration, and were gone through the power of the wind into the sky. What great love Eli had, and what sacrifice he made of himself without even the knowledge of doing so. Amongst the green of whatever leaves remained upon Eli’s body, branches grey and bare jutted out like consuming fire, and reaching up wet through the steaming rain like dead fingers wishing to touch the unseen, they were touched only by the wind. And as the wind rushed past Eli stirring the chill of his wood with cold and wet, it passed him by unnamed and unknown, seen only by the leaves that turned and fell spinning in its wake, left to drag their course along the ground and scratch out their search for truth.
Only a few leaves were carried high enough to fall further away, and so their journey appeared greater to those who fell early, but a single leaf of Eli’s was seen rising steadily above even Samuel himself. The birds whose black eyes reflected the falling rain saw deeply into this event, even today they sing songs of it’s significance amongst the tree tops. The birds follow the wind with ease and go by light unseen by most others, and on this day as they stared at the clouds and falling leaves they saw the rising of Eli pure as the brightest day, a single leaf that carried despite the wind and falling rain towards the sun, and flew into invisible realms of the clouds like the wisdom of all beings. They saw lightning come from the sky and cast its judgement over the world by making Eli fall. It took a lifetime for his trunk, so stubborn as any other tree, to swing and go down with a thud and clump in the mud.
And so it is the testament of the birds that Eli’s name is ascension, he is where the spirit bleeds and where the truth is found, and though many things live beyond their meaning, Eli would die and become the truth of his existence, he would be the inspiration of many things. No one can know the truth, but Eli was standing and he fell and in doing so he knew a truth beyond all others. The falling rain is proof that he fell, the sun is proof that he exists, and what does your existence tell? The sun tells your story, and the words of your soul carry like falling leaves to touch the earth.

7. Samuel and the Storm.

Beneath the dark underbelly of the clouds, where through the havoc of wind and storm no bird could take flight, Samuel was dreaming of the sun. As the wind swept its tide beneath him, as countless of his leaves were gone and torn away, and stray wood wrestled in fits all around him. There was lightning in the sky on the day that he stood tall, and rain fell through his branches like pellets and seeds of stone in the mud. Even Samuel’s roots underground could sense the wind shaking hard by means that were beyond them, though they could not see for themselves the destruction. If they knew of the turmoil above them in the unseen sky, perhaps they would have lost all hope and loosened their hold upon the world. But the roots live through a mystery which perceives in and of itself alone, and feel life as an urge which is beyond all sense of hope, and having no more than the silence of soil to guide them, they still grip into the world today.
Only the leaves who flickered and fell flying into the claws of the earth had vision beyond the demise of Samuel, they were carried by the wind far a field, and saw the trail of the earth extend before them, they saw more in their journeys than even the birds can see in their flight, for they felt the sting of their own mortality, and saw the wide earth travelling beyond their reach, moving with speed and distance into places greater than their own decay.
These leaves were never seen again, and haven’t the chance to speak to others of what they saw. They are pitied by the remains of Samuel for their suffering, respected for their sacrifice, and mourned for their great loss.

8. The Falling of Samuel After the Storm Subsides.

When the clouds rolled away and the blue sky once more furthered the world’s perception, the colours of fallen leaves and brushwood littered the ground. Samuel, who was still standing though his leaves had become somewhat thinner, once again grew into the gaze of the sun.
The birds came out like thread to join the world to peaceful skies, and with the buzzing insects swirling in the warmth of the sunlight over Samuel they formed a sort of motley crown that twisted in and out of his reach.
When Samuel saw amidst the relief and harmony of all this colour the trunk of Eli broken and lying wet with the soft rain and fresh green grass of the garden, and the charcoal black scars of lightning upon the stump that held in Eli’s place, what more can be said but Samuel was fallen in spirit. The remaining leaves upon his body shook with an internal force much greater than any shallow wind, his trunk sagged and bowed down to the tip of his roots and even deeper. So deep was his sadness that it was more than even the earth could bear, and the birds sang louder and the insects buzzed brighter all the more, and filled the sky with movement so that the earth would not be led entirely astray. It is thanks to these creatures that the earth is still turning, and that guiding stars in darkness still give way to the blinding sun and heat of inspiration. The sky rolls on like an endless reel, but all of this movement did little to quell the heart of Samuel, who for all of his sadness could not fix upon the idea of Eli’s death. He saw Eli alive and lying broken across the way of an entire dead garden. He saw dead birds flying through an air that cared less for the living, and dead flowers burst into bloom and the decay of an open sky. The dead grass grows forever, but Samuel remembered lightning alive in the sky with a flash, and saw the living lightning scars of Eli shine with just the same colour as the fading clouds. Night fell upon Samuel as he bent over Eli’s broken bones, and the wide-eyed stars stretched across a black lake above him like the silver spark of distant water. Samuel sat in a silence unlike any other he’d sat in before. He dripped into the mud of the earth which to him once seemed boundless with affirmation, and found only incomprehension and confusion. Having no more than this lack of understanding as his guide Samuel wondered at the truth of those around him.

9. Other Animals of the Garden.

Birds wings cut flat through the air like the sturdy strokes of a quill, butterflies fly with a seeming inaccuracy, like a scribbling pen on a page, what pictures they’re tracing into an unseen natures meaning. Both above and below and deep amongst the green of Samuel’s leaves they draw out from the centre of his stubborn strength. From the constant stupidity of his wooden wisdom tall and bound to the earth, the thoughts of flying creatures take to the air. From insects so small they have never been seen, to the poisonous colours of wasps and countless others so thick and bright to the eye they appear to scream outward and into the very sun that shapes them.
Having Samuel to reside in, and having Samuel to protect them, they seek no roots upon the earth. So shallow and meaningless they seem to the deeply held roots of trees, but still amongst those same roots, below the compost and deep in the dark beneath the world of worms lies a myriad of colourful sleeping insects, waiting for the summer to draw them up into the sky, and in the sudden sun the vividness of their reality fills the spectrum of the atmosphere, as they play in the light of the life they’ve been given. Samuel tried his best to understand these creatures, but they come across so quick and meaningless to the slow stubbornness and proud stupidity of the trees, the home of flying birds and insects.
Across the air the silence and stillness of Samuel stretches, as though knowledge were something beyond him, something he left faded and blurring with the falling rain a long time ago. Across the fences of human boundaries in the land of faraway business, people lived lives like children throwing stones in a peaceful pond. The sound of heavy hammers and alarm bells rippled across the surface of weed-ridden houses, in harmony with streetwise birds stealing breadcrumbs from the sidewalk. Drug induced cars revved loud behind the expectations of speaker stereos filled with the sound of music, the sound of human passion across the bursting bubble of the exploding universe. Louder than the silence of Samuel, the sound of a speeding car through the dark beneath the streetlight, the whining howl of a police car siren sounding over the tops of the fenced off garden, spilling into the ears of a black dog faded grey as the wooden fences that blessed its boundaries, a lonely cry amongst the monopoly of noises. The old dog cocked up its head and howled with the siren, faraway dogs followed, and howling filled the air. A mess of dog sounds running free for thirty seconds, the siren giving way to the distance, then the silence of Samuel melting to the sounds of heavy hammers and traffic in the land of faraway business.

10. The Visions of Birds and the Visions of a Tree.

So un-tree like Samuel seemed with all his faithless wandering in thought, and intelligent consideration of the nature of those around him.
Finding nothing that would give him peace from among the peaceful creatures, he turned his thoughts against the fibre of his being and into the storms own truth, and in the midst of what wisdom was perceived through the destruction he felt he was following and understanding a sense of Eli, though in spirit there was no similarity between the two, and Samuel in his own fallen form of wandering was following different paths completely to the love and curiosity that bore Eli into other worlds.
A common sparrow throughout the night perched upon one of Samuel’s branches and whispered a song to the tree about the visions of birds, that a single leaf of Eli’s was never seen to touch the earth, a leaf that flew fleeting as the storm into the sun, and can only be said to die through speculation. Samuel’s leaves rustled with the news as though the core of their being had been lit up and struck suddenly open upon the world. Despite the calm cool of the windless night and relative stillness of their surroundings many of them wished to fly away and follow the song into the night sky, however dark and sunless. The sparrow took to the air still singing and the leaves manic spirits shook further with newfound revelation. A quick whirlwind came and stirred through the grass, lifting the lost and fallen leaves of the ground into the air once more. Samuel looked out through the confusion of the speeding wind and tumultuous dead leaves flying as though in awe of an impressive power. Never had leaves taken on such life before, spinning like a chorus of bird wings through the air. The complexity of visions that came before the tree were amazing; the sky seemed to turn with the movement of each single leaf, and the moonlight changed its course with each flying green edge. All throughout the darkness of night whilst Samuel searched for meaning the dead leaves circled over and around him, twisting apparitions of foresight into the sky, and blocking the peaceful stars from view with the passion of their movement. Much of what Samuel saw appeared to him as insanity, though at the same time fluid and filled with such motion that always called for deeper comprehension. With every picture passing instantaneously before him came a description so powerful and fresh that it seemed the worlds own words were talking to him. Samuel was ready and willing to throw his leaves up into the air, and to darken the sky further in the grandest hope of finally attaining the sun. But when the morning came and the actual sun shone down, Samuel looked plainly before him and saw the bones of dead Eli nestled comfortably in the ground, and this became his inspiration;

That the moving visions of the sky can hold no secrets of the sun, and are only the truth of the changing colours of clouds.
No bird that can fly knows the nature of the wind, though the shadow of wings is cast over the earth, the wind cannot sweep away the sun, and the birds cannot live in darkness.

This wisdom, or inspiration was nothing new to Samuel, it was the faith of trees restated, though it appeared to him fresh and revealing, and the newness of form with which it carried itself made him grow. Samuel’s old stubbornness returned, and he rose again even as trees are today with their faith. Upwards into the world above where dead leaves once flew, now living leaves fixed and sprouting from the blood of his branches covered the sky. And the rising birds circled the growing sun, singing like black specks curved to its lure. Those leaves who listened were caught between the silence of tree faith from which they were born and their own impatient desire to reach the state of Eli, whose ascension to the sun was told to them through the song of the birds and was carried away with the wind. Even now Samuel’s leaves were twitching as the sunlight grew more intense around them. They took new meaning in the richness of their colour, and played with the edges of the sky toward where the sparrow had vanished from sight. They held a hunger for movement, and possessed a vibrancy that was beyond the realm of trees. Samuel felt he had to address the leaves as a whole.

“None can listen to the birds in their thoughtless flight and still give full credence to my wisdom, the very same wisdom which creates you.
You believe the sky is your salvation, yet it rises above you endlessly, I say the sky cannot be reached but through the grounds of the earth and the power of unseen roots.
The wind can be heard with every turn of breath, but my words are silent so that they cannot be heard throughout the world, yet still my wisdom rings true.
The birds know nothing of silence, and the songs they sing fail to touch upon the silence of your home, it is the silence which is growing despite whatever else you may hear, and only silence is synonymous with the sun’.

This wisdom did not come to the leaves in the form of words as written above, and translation is lost when they are spoken aloud. But in the silence of reality it moved through their blood, and it came in such a way that transcendence and ascension were mere illusions to be overcome. So that in following this knowledge leaves could accept their place within tree society and be lifted through the power of Samuel alone, though the temptation of the birds is always present and always shall be.

11. The Prevalence of Tree Wisdom.

After Samuel’s wisdom was spread out again silent through his leaves, and the resurgence of his faith made them dumb to the song of birds, the wind blew easy over the outskirts of their existence as they embraced the regrowth of tree society. Amidst the harmony of Samuel’s canopy not a single leaf could develop the joy of passion to rebel and rise with the birds against the silence. So that as the leaves clung tightly in bunches to Samuel’s branches for fear of losing their sustenance they blocked out the sun from the world below, and the greatness of Samuel’s shadow came up rising over the garden, the depths of which only imagination can tell; even covering up the dead remnants of Eli’s ascension laying rotted as a wooden stump beneath Samuel’s Heights.
Any reminiscence amongst leaves about the old storm was as vague and obscure as the forgotten meaning of birdsong, though the singing of a mystery was still heard above them which touched their fragile hearts cool as an uplifting breeze. Still Samuel kept all of the leaves together, bound in body to his branches and the birthright of his silence, and be it through sadness or joy, or weakness or strength, or if even just through the plain old curiosity of intelligence a single leaf let go and flew toward the secrets which silence kept them from, they were seen to be fallen. The remaining leaves needed only to look beneath them at the shadow and they were afraid to follow. So it was that the darkness of the roots, and the stubborn strength of the trunk; the stupid wisdom of tree faith prevailed. Throughout all of tree society the bird’s song from above became an insanity to follow, and to the leaves their music became death; the meaning of a lost life which fell beneath them into the darkness of our world. As we look up to the sky we can never know the full extent of longing which leaves feel for the sun, so why they fall amongst us into the shadow is a mystery of life dimly perceived by the living. Yet although the true nature of leaves is largely unknown to us, still they fall constantly into our own reality, and down forever to the earth they dissolve into our being.

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A Gift for the Fly

2007-10-15T02:38:28Z

I'm new to tribe, this is my first post

A Gift for the Fly

Give to this fly
another day before it dies
just one more to make amends
for all those so called friends

Wicked wings easily cut clean
stranded upon lonely isle
Another ship sailed by and bye
smoke signals for the dead

Reflections in the silver mirror
sheets of looking glass
not so fast, running of the days
starting higher and farther back

Fresh words laying on ages of history
the blistering heat of surrounding stares
another game does begin
another fly does drop dead

O sweet promises of the fleeting-
it truly never ends

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B.B forever

2007-10-15T02:34:48Z

this is a poem wrote to a friend of mine.. i lost him just before christmas...and i miss him very much

if u were still here
if u never left
i wouldnt feel fear
i wouldnt have these tears
my dreams they seem so real
your face so crystal clear
it is my happy ending
that can never be
i pray that u r safe
the pain is fading from my mind
my dreams of happy endings
are falling far behind
i dont kno where to turn
im lost inside myself
why cant u still be here
safe with our reach...
but i kno now that u r safe
ur wings now trimmed with gold
ur smiling down upon us
a feeling that i kno
sumtimes i pray ur still here
how i wish that u wernt gone
your wings r trimed with gold
u r the remembered one
i kno its a dream
ur face as clear as day
i kno its just a dream
i kno u couldnt stay
i hate that your not here
that you couldnt say goodbye
i hate how much we miss u
i hate how much we cry
i kno now that u r safe
i kno now that u r home
i kno now that u r safe
ill never let u go

posted in poetree - 1 reply

serenity

2007-10-15T02:27:20Z

that which was lost
in the shuffle of life
with all of its pain
and all its strife

keeps me continually
cleaning up all the mess
thinking i want more
when all i need is less

seeking that place
where clarity lies
freeing my soul and
breaking all negative ties

aligning my spirit with positivity
continually searching for true serenity...

posted in poetree - 1 reply

i sing of Olaf glad and big - by E. E. Cummings

2007-10-07T04:37:40Z

i sing of Olaf glad and big
by E. E. Cummings

XXX

i sing of Olaf glad and big

whose warmest heart recoiled at war:

a conscientious object-or

his wellbelovéd colonel(trig

westpointer most succinctly bred)

took erring Olaf soon in hand;

but--though an host of overjoyed

noncoms(first knocking on the head

him)do through icy waters roll

that helplessness which others stroke

with brushes recently employed

anent this muddy toiletbowl,

while kindred intellects evoke

allegiance per blunt instruments--

Olaf(being to all intents

a corpse and wanting any rag

upon what God unto him gave)

responds,without getting annoyed

"I will not kiss your fucking flag"

straightway the silver bird looked grave

(departing hurriedly to shave)

but--though all kinds of officers

(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)

their passive prey did kick and curse

until for wear their clarion

voices and boots were much the worse,

and egged the firstclassprivates on

his rectum wickedly to tease

by means of skilfully applied

bayonets roasted hot with heat--

Olaf(upon what were once knees)

does almost ceaselessly repeat

"there is some shit I will not eat"

our president,being of which

assertions duly notified

threw the yellowsonofabitch

into a dungeon,where he died

Christ(of His mercy infinite)

i pray to see;and Olaf,too

preponderatingly because

unless statistics lie he was

more brave than me:more blond than you.

Copyright 1931, © 1959, 1991 by the Trustees for E. E. Cummings Trust. Copyright © 1979 by George J. Firmage, from The Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings. Reprinted by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved.

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my best poem (so far)...

2007-08-17T03:16:08Z

Universal
J Timothy Dotson '93

I followed your countenance
which had changed from light to dark
and from me to him.
I reflected you
like a sorrowful moon in fast eclipse,
already below your horizon -
hanging in the void.
Your world was a different planet
in an elliptical orbit, like an unfaithful comet
that had slipped the bonds of a lesser gravity,
and mated with a force beyond my understanding
and proximity.
I am not part of the stuff of this star,
I no longer know this galaxy.
How does it pale in comparison?
Like east and west, sun and moon
like the distance between you and me.
It is a space of time and a mass of emotion,
an old frontier that precious few can conquer.
A nova, once a bright beacon, has taken the whole system
and flung it across the sky -
the fading nebulous cloud remains.
An ihabitant of the past, I drift here,
another astral remnant
of a broken mortal plane.
Like a black hole, so much is here that nothing remains.

1993 Grand Prize Winner
Arizona State Poetry Society
(wrote it about my divorce in 1992)

comments?

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I'm not the indian that you're looking for.

2007-07-14T11:44:21Z

I don't wear feathers in a headdress
I don't run around in a leather breach cloth
I don't trade in ponies
I don't believe we are all related ( just how our action relate to each other)
I am not the indian that you're looking for
I do not have a deep connection to earth that will occur when I'm buried in it
I don't think every day is a particularly good day to die
I can speak in multi sylabic words and sentences
I don't hang out with people who;s idea of a good plan i
s to jump through a window and surpise the bad guy in his own lair
I don't do stiches for stupidity
I"m not the indian that you're looking for
I grew up on a reservation
I don't hate all white people,
Just the ones that pester me to accept them into the indian cause
I"m not the indian you're looking for
I'm not angry
I'm not violent
I think before I speak
I think before i act
I'm not the indian that you're looking for
I don't drink till I vomit
I don't drink to forget
I don't have a deep pain or sorrow
I don't drink at all
I won't sign any papers without consulting my lawyers
I"m not the indian your looking for
I will put my family first in all decisions
I know my nation
I know my family
I know my name
I know who I am
I am not the indian that you're looking for

I"m not the indian that you're looking for
I know How to laugh
I know How to laugh at you
I laugh at myself with you
I don't know any stoic indians
I'm not the indian that you're looking for
I drink my coffee as well as tea
I can't see in the future
I don't know how to use herbs for medicine
I can't walk in woods silently
I've never chased down a deer
I'm not the indian that your looking for
I can start a fire without a match
that 's what a bics for right
I don't know the colours of the wind
and any racoon I know would bite my ass
I"m not the indian tha your looking for
I don't live in a teepee
I don't have a war whoop.
I don't carry a tomahawk
I don't know How to bury the hatchet
I'm not violent remember
I'm not the indian that you're looking for

he's my neighbor
and your lucky he's out tonight.

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lost muse

2007-06-13T08:28:34Z

repeatedly I return
to the corners you once dwelled
words sprinkled upon clouds
dancing in harmony
souls knew
what was to come
where am I to find my muse
when time has buried you
from my reach
I seek yet an inspiration
to find within a sculpture
a melodic poem
a sunrise peeking beyond
its radiance
allure uncovered in the velvet
touch of a rose
caressing the skin
if the muse is not to be found
does the spirit die of thirst
seeking life after life?
to be embraced by desire is
the muse that I crave

posted in poetree - 1 reply

Poetry on the artcar this year

2007-05-31T16:17:06Z

If any of you have a gift you want to share,
Origional prose, poetry or praise
A song, or strumming, playing a live tune.
please contact me and let me know.
as part of attempting to make our artcar interactive i would like as many beautiful, inspirational, interactions as possible.
Your ticket onto this train is an outpouring of Love.

hugs
avo
www.butterful-eyes.com

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The White Rose

2007-04-18T17:47:31Z

My mind forever racing
towards a future
or my past.
Never thought to relish,
as the present moves so fast.
A choice to simply focus,
on a beautiful white rose.
Sensing all the work it took,
I swear
I didn't know.
Tried to see the beauty,
but quick to tumble back,
unless I entertain my past,
none of that is fact.
Staring down again,
the rose cupped in my hands,
to center in the present,
but drowning in quick sand.
Though the first attempts,
were difficult to sway,
away from old mistakes,
and stay in now
Today.
After tons of practice,
eventually I did.
See this form of beauty,
as if I were a kid.

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radiation sicknesss...

2006-12-26T05:59:31Z

this is the first thing i've written since coming back east in the beginning of oct. i just finished it n am going to post it without editing. it concerns depleted uranium n the poppy. i was thinking about all the poor addicts to opiated who are now probably being poisoned by radiation as well as the drugs...
its definitely different than what i usually post, so let me know what u think of it... thanks n blessings... gb

radioactive regions revering perfect poisonous poppies, depleted uranium decaying delivering deadly dust having hazardous half life, 4.5 billion years, becoming more n more radioactive as centuries n millenia pass by, passive population programmed, your told just what you need, so full of hatred, fear n bigotry, you can't even percieve of the destruction your ultimate greed has caused you to concieve, a planetary plague deadlier than any disease, only solution left now is to leave, all the oil will be made of us before this poisonous particle is gone, ironic justice justifying our own delayed destruction, wanna be heroes sacrificed like the chess master's pawns, shooting radioactive isotopes turns me on, a new shade of yellow, all my problems gone, contented as a newborn fawn, fiending for the itch,radiation junkies twitch, unknown hand flips a switch, causes the poles to flip, prying open old atomic bombs just to get one more fix, nuclear reaction blast can't hurt me, i've survived all this, just take a little taste of this new shit,
the first one's on me, i insist...
an offer like that, who can resist...

nodding off, the newest fix, the junkies are glowing, impossible to miss, noone to fight back, can barely stand up let alone make a fist, now to combine dope n radiation sickness, new level of turnover, death arrives with a never before seen quickness, now the deserts dust delivers decaying death, bullets betraying benefitors, blowing back, breathed in n brought back in blood n birthing babies born deformed, sullen soldiers semen spreading state sponsored sickness, secret sinners sitting safely underground, insulated in inner sanctums, official existance dutifully denied by deadly designers, war mongers puppets profitting, sit back n laugh, telling half truths to those on their staffs, silenced soldiers symptoms mean pensions won't last, more money to blow on the next big bash, exchanging the lives of all the poor on the planet for a little more cash, throwing away lives as if they were trash, a couple of years worth of oil for billions of years of death,dinosaurs decayed into oil, laughing as we poison the soil, burning what's left of their remains, every drop paid for with a infinite amount of pain, scientists constantly figuring out new ways to kill n say that we mystics are insane, thay've put too much trust into the power of their brains, but their only shells longing to fill a hole, never realizing that they're missing their soul, always wanting more without realizing this is an empty goal, never realizing the simple joy of being kind, believing those in power have their best interests in mind, but if you could read them you would be terrified at what you would find, controlling you from inside your brain, get in line to get onto the train, we'll take you to a place where there's no more pain, creating a new final solution through total pollution of body n mind, satellites see everywhere, astral projection the only way left to hide, if we came togethor we could realize it's all lies use the truth to revitalize, so control is imposed to conquer and divide, resisting negative influences from the outside , gather your strength, build it up inside, regardless of the likely outcome it's about time that we tried...

realize how control is imposed from outside...
stand up for yourself n take back your mind...

it's all up to you, only you can decide...

posted in poetree - 2 replies

the garden...

2006-12-15T23:45:23Z

togethor we devoured ourselves
ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge till it was bare n we were sick
then we caught the serpent
roasted him on our fire
pulled back the flesh with bare teeth
drank the warm blood from its still beating heart
ravaging the carcass
still thirsting for more i wrapped the bones around my neck n headed out into the wilderness
my wildness overtaking all
i consumed every scrap i came across n was never satisfied
i became the lord of all
trapped behind self built walls
waiting for it all to fall
my carelessness created sprawl
now i must wipe it all away
i lost myself in a dark day
realized that i'd one astray
n returned to the garden with no delay
to find the spot where my goddess lay
she was strung out underneath the tree
cursed myself for letting this be
i caressed her lightly
pulled her into me
kissed her forehead ever so gently
whispered blessings into her ear
told her everything she ever needed to hear
slowly her clouded eyes began to clear
then she kissed me, drew me near
n i knew we were angels sent from above
then on the tree appeared a dove
it brought a message
i'd found my answer
n it was love...

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a fallen angel's suicide note...

2006-12-15T23:44:24Z

the sound of a lonely heart breaking
echoes endlessly in the infinite interior
the sole slight sliver of sanity shatters
sending shaking air to shatter the sounds of silence
to strangle the silence n fill my hollow chest cavern
with something for a single solitary second
soon to be replaced with nothing
all feelings n sentimentality wiped away
the machines n their offspring rise up to embrace me
colors seem to fade, everything varyin shades of gray
the night indistinguishable from the day
no more intention behind the words i say
in my own destruction, i'll choose the way
the dreamworld calling seems to always slip away
i've sacrificed myself on the altar of beauty
shed my blood for truth
offered up all of my youth
looking up from my place of suffering
i wonder what was the usei woke up this mornin n found an invitation to the funereal of my hope
instead of going out to the party, i'll stay home n shoot tons of dope
the final sunset's slowly streaching southward, n i just can't cope
i tried to tell you how i feel but the words got caught in my throat
at least i took the time to write this
a fallen angel's suicide note...

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MY ACTIVIST POEM

2006-11-15T05:19:22Z

how do you know
what your role is in the world
when everything seems crazy
and your voice wont be heard
who do you lean on
to whom to you speak
who is a true friend
who only makes you weak?
god dammit im so mad
that the fire in me is lost
that my energy fell flat
and my engine is a ghost
im so tired of shedding tears
tired of feeling all the fears
tired of living in this world
bound to many many years
what is human, am i sane
whats the question
whats my aim
who's your doctor
the medicine man
who gives a pill
thats all he can
are you living your life
the way your life is to be lived
or giving pieces to that guy
the one who takes but doesnt give
oh, this world is never bad
never good, happy, sad
it is we who color it
with our smiles and cries
our screams, moans
we shower it
what we put inside
is what comes out
and is the thing
that later makes us hide

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Transitions

2006-09-26T19:30:00Z

Formulating dreams etched into the sand
like all things, waiting to be blown away
but still important as the tapestry encases emotion
a dream...

A feeling of apathy comes from the tide
slowly and then quickly washing it all away
recognizing the tide in all situations
the slow persistant force of life
breaking down, building up, wiping clean
it's simple beauty lodges itself deep into the heart
while part of us fights it
the understanding of The Way permeates any resistance
then the choice occurs
whether we're ready or not....aware or not
peace or war
fighting what is
or making peace with it
and the emotions flood in
the needs....
instincts
tears....

lost in the emotions
then found
strength and will are formed in the wake
as the clouds gather again
and the tide draws away
a new cycle is born
and the teary face wroughts a hard won smile
coming so easily, laughter and light invades
opening up the sky into a crystal blue
a warm hug
an open heart

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some hum for some

2006-09-26T18:11:26Z

whats burning
by the water
the bridges crossing
water's getting hotter

whats floating
across the river
i cant see
anything but a glimmer

whos touching
the wild sheep
that bea and bea
like we humans weep

whos hiding
behind the wise old tree
it is lovely
it is me

posted in poetree - 1 reply

As I've Grown Older, I've Found

2006-05-26T02:49:00Z

As I've grown older, I've found<br>
that my body has gotten more round.<br>
As I try it,<br>
another new diet,<br>
I always add another pound.

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for anyone who wants to listen

2006-04-23T21:06:17Z

my light is trying to glisten
my soul is singing
and shining
and my body is trying to hold up the weight
of time
of life
of love
of hate

be still, fragile heart,
for your green energy will radiate
smile, laugh and experience
respect the thoughts in your mind
be kind, don't hesitate

i am the wandering witness
to this passion play
but for now, i'm chosing to stay.

posted in poetree - 1 reply

time

2006-04-23T21:04:38Z

time doesnt kno me
time has no emotion
then why did time stop when i lost u
cant move on
cant fight the pain
minutes like hours
seem like eons of never ending torment
waiting
praying
i cant find the strength to open my eyes
and see the sun
i miss u
i need u here with me
why does time hate me
what did i do to lose u
i wish i could deal
with death
with life
to exchamge my life for yours
so you could live on
and i could smile down upon u
and thank god for the moments u gave me
why cant i wake up from the night mare
of being with out u

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a new tribe for those

2006-04-20T09:40:23Z

for those that want constructive critiques on their poetry and r willing to do the same
http://tribes.tribe.net/poeticconfines

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Absorbed By Indifference

2006-04-19T22:12:17Z

Tormented by a destiny that I cannot escape
Shattered by a future that refuses to take shape
Wandering aimlessly with a heart full of sorrow
The gun of fate leaves a hole of no tomorrow

Struck down dead by abandoned hopes and dreams
Sleep wrought every night with agonized screams
Descending deeper into the vortex of dried tears
Trapped in depression, hostage of my own fears

Riding wings of misery into the blackest night
Prisoner of pandemonium that has stolen my light
Trying not to allow myself to be consumed by madness
But realizing instantly I am banished to sadness

I ready myself for whatever the future may hold
Numbing myself I let my mutated mind grow cold
Absorbed by indifference, I watch another leave
Locked in silence knowing I can no longer grieve

My ravaged soul rests uneasily in a heartless graveyard
Like the heart in my barren chest, gone frozen and hard
Feeling nothing by emptiness, I sit in my vacant shell
Waiting for some merciful release from this hell

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THOUGHTS FROM WITHIN by Woody Harrelson

2005-11-10T02:36:52Z

THOUGHTS FROM WITHIN by Woody Harrelson

I sometimes feel like an alien creature
for which there is no earthly explanation
Sure I have human form
walking erect and opposing digits,
but my mind is upside down.
I feel like a run-on sentence
in a punctuation crazy world.
and I see the world around me
like a mad collective dream.

An endless stream of people
move like ants from the freeway
cell phones, pc's, and digital displays
"In Money We Trust,"
we'll find happiness
the prevailing attitude;
like a genetically modified irradiated Big Mac
is somehow symbolic of food.

Morality is legislated
prisons over-populated
religion is incorporated
the profit-motive has permeated all activity
we pay our government to let us park on the street
And war is the biggest money-maker of all
we all know missile envy only comes from being small.

Politicians and prostitutes
are comfortable together
I wonder if they talk about the strange change in the weather.
This government was founded by, of, and for the people
but everybody feels it
like a giant open sore
they don't represent us anymore
And blaming the President for the country's woes
is like yelling at a puppet
for the way it sings
Who's the man behind the curtain pulling the strings?

A billion people sitting watching their TV
in the room that they call living
but as for me
I see living as loving
and since there is no loving room
I sit on the grass under a tree
dreaming of the way things used to be
Pre-Industrial Revolution
which of course is before the rivers and oceans, and skies were polluted

before Parkinson's, and mad cows
and all the convoluted cacophony of bad ideas
like skyscrapers, and tree paper, and earth rapers
like Monsanto and Dupont had their way
as they continue to today.

This was Pre-us
back when the buffalo roamed
and the Indian's home
was the forest, and God was nature
and heaven was here and now
Can you imagine clean water, food, and air
living in community with animals and people who care?

Do you dare to feel responsible for every dollar you lay down
are you going to make the rich man richer
or are you going to stand your ground
You say you want a revolution
a communal evolution
to be a part of the solution
maybe I'll be seeing you around

www.voiceyourself.com/03_though...3_main.php

posted in poetree - 1 reply

snow n then awakening...

2005-11-10T02:29:45Z

snowstorm
surrounding me
unable to see
caught in a cloud
one with it
calling out
the sounds swallowed up
noone answers
burning eyes
nothing but brightness
illuminating all lies
no shadows
no place to hide
such a little thing
snow
one flake is nothing
together
the world is theirs
brought down by the snowflakes
piled up like frozen lakes
mountains of white
the aftermath
burying the world
creating a new landscape
we live under the new mounttains
the white world
blinding to behold
the frozen wasteland
our new home...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a dream
but then I woke up
inside a nightmare
as I looked around
it became quite clear
the world in my dreams
was no place near
realizing this
I dropped a single tear
then decided to work
till we all get there

posted in poetree - 1 reply

city lights illuminating

2005-11-03T10:39:58Z

sitting in city lights
staring at the sweet city
feeling all the energy
the vibrations of those who have come before me
helping us along the path we're all on currently
maintaining the cycle of history
changing the whole world literally
when taking things to another level
never forget there's always another one to get to
the beauty of life keeps carrying on
with vocal cords shifting to create a song
that lives on forever after our bodies are gone
if you focus your will n your soul is strong
you'll start everything over before to long
n all together we'll greet the new dawn.

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samhain's sunrise

2005-11-03T10:39:23Z

samhain's cemetary sunrise
silvery sliver shines secretly
swelling with pride
moon manifests magnificent purple clouds
with which to hide
i slowly glide
arriving home with the last starlight of this night
the darkness slowly fads into the daylight

now is the time for most magical insight

all wishes are granted and i take flight...

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The Prettiest Mother in the World

2005-08-18T19:18:10Z

Note: I wrote this poem back in 1992, when my mother was going under surgery for cancer.

Her face is no longer smooth,
it is lined by time.
Even if she doesn't look the same,
she is still that dear mother of mine.
She has always given of herself to me,
nothing was I ever denied.
She laughed when I laughed,
she comforted me when I cried.
There is no one like her,
I don't think there will ever be.
No one means as much to me,
as she.
To me, it doesn't matter what she looks like,
I guess it is a matter of pride.
For the things that make her the most beautiful,
are the things she has inside.

posted in poetree - 1 reply

new to the tribe, here's an offering, some poems....

2005-08-18T19:14:03Z

this is some poetry i've written while helping to set up n tear down the Dreamtime festival. hope it's not too much. i hope they bring someone some enjoyment. thanks.

Breathing fire
wielding words
voices varying vibrations
manipulating molecules
materializing manifestations
sounds shattering silence
shifting soul shape
sends singers spinning
empowering empty vessels
varied visions intertwining
into interlocking intention
inventing ideal identities
individual independence inherent
within whole worlds withering
we will whether the storm
still standing strong
amidst apocalyptic anarchy
our ancient ancestors answers
articulate in our awareness
certain conscious creatures
craft circular councils
creating consensus &
saving society
making mankind more meaningful
learning life’s lost lessons &
letting love live.

showering sparks sing spectacularly
spontaneous sprinkles singe singular sections
selecting several scenarios seemingly severed
simultaneous seconds stealthy slide
shimmering slithering silver serpents
slowly shedding skin
creating a new self by devouring without from within
intermingling your purity & sin
seeking your balance
some shadows are perfect reflections
manifestations of conflicts within
seeking redemption by turning inside
attune to yourself & your truth cannot hide
believe in your power
& your light cannot be denied
synchronous living
it’s about time that we tried
move past mere concepts
it’s time for them to be applied.

Awakening
Inside a dream
Reality
just not what it seems
All manifested
meeting all needs
needs that are true
not based on greed
our temples maintained
so souls can be free
so do your best
individually
then come together
create a new scene
& take it with you
spread it like a seed
then when it flowers
we’ll see how a whole forest
starts with just one tree.

We all move on
our paths divergent
criss crossing
web of energy
creates a new being
more than just self
greater reality
with everyone giving
& more open to receive
all are fulfilled
noone in need
more worried about supporting each other
past the disease of greed.

we’ll reach our full potential
each blossoming like the first flower
of the most ancient redwood tree
like the power of the forest lies
in every inch of soil n subtle shade of green
when all the flowers come together
to express our beauty n our truth
our individuality
coming together
and imagining
then manifesting
our perfect reality
the utopian dream
new type of society
based on pure love
where all are truly free.

the light reveals
a new place
look into myself
see a new face
seems that there’s been a change
everything’s been rearranged
what once was normal
now seems so strange
a new creation
new big bang’s boom
new life emerges
out of a new womb
like a caterpillar emerges
as a beautiful butterfly
then reaches so far up
into the blue sky
reborn in a world with no limits
we all will reach our greatest height.

the end of the beginning of the shift
the last moment before it all flipped
the time of transformation is at hand
the next time you jump up
you may never land.

Morning breaks
the day is started
we all move on

the light creeps slowly
illuminating
our path is shown

along the way
all life is nurtured
everything grows

there is no end
& no beginning
this we must know

the world is ours
we see our vision
then make it so

give birth to a new world
embrace it all
then let it go

a spinning vortex
draws energy
continues onward eternally
no longer needing
you or me

cannot be stopped
just keeps on going
like down the river the water flows

we’ve manifest
a whole new planet
& none of us
will ever know.

It seems
the breath I just breathed in
contained a molecule of a star on the other side of the cosmos
I took it into me
attuning to its frequency
becoming one with its energy
I realized that we’re all stars & planets
Gods & Goddesses
we’re the universe, the essence of creation
we’re the vast void, the black hole
which we fear cause we don’t understand
we fear how it swallows the light
as we fear the darkness alone
but we are creation n we created fear
so we can destroy it
but there really is no destruction
only transformation
the light is not destroyed in the void
it merely changes
switches to darkness to gain some balance
so shall we
turn our fear to our power
to gain the strength needed
in these final hours
to help empower the universe
to reach its full flower
opening for all to see
inside the beauty of diversity
reflecting divinity,
the universal humanity
constantly flowing energy,
we’re all connected
all is sacred
so share your love freely.

perhaps I have already connected with each piece of earth
a strand of hair I watched float away
or perhaps a flake of dead skin scratched off
a molecule of spittle carried on the wind
perhaps a piece of me was breathed in then exhaled
by a monk in the mountains in a mystical monastery
(while muttering mantras in meaningful meditation on making mandalas)
thus being connected for a moment
the breath I just exhaled, the same breath of the Indians who first resided here, the same breathed by the first man, the same breath as the dinosaurs,
the same oxygen breathed out by some of the same trees
the rain is the same water that gave birth to ancient amoebas
ancestral amphibians breathed the same air, only they didn’t
defy it driving daily on decayed dinosaurs
directing descent downward
dissent denies deceptions

deceitfully dividing dissenters,
death dealers dole out denominations, dolts do dirt

Dreamers Defy Daringly
developing different dogma
demanding decisions
seeking sane solutions

selective scenes shown
subjected slaves surrender
manipulated mindstates
modern media machine makes mainstream
New Order procedures quantify reality
Selective truths undermine varied worldview
Xtinguishes youthful zeal

Altogether broken, crashes down, Earth fucked (evil fuels, empty food)
global holocaust imminent,
justice killed,
law means nothing outside prison,
quills rip sensitive tissue
universal vault x rayed yields zero
unconscious variable will xtend your zenith.

always believe creation does empower fully giving, healing infinitely.

amazing what this breath
with a little vibration can create
ancient perfection
we’re about to reinstate
with every inhale n exhale
we choose our own fate.

posted in poetree - 2 replies

the child

2005-05-26T21:07:46Z

darkness swallows me
my bodys dead and i cant seem to breathe
frozen in the emptiness
cant break away and im blinded by pain
im calling
praying
screaming
pleaing
for the pain that i cant feel
for the pain that is so real
cant break away and i am blinded by pain
she calls to me :the child
small and weak
scortched by the fire
the fires of sin
the fires of pain
suffocating in the fires of war
i call out to her;the child
separated by the seas of uncaring torment
i can not fly
i can not reach
i am blinded by the hate
the pain
the war
blinded by the tears
the sceams
the crys
she is gone;the child
now at peace amoungst the rubble
no pain
no fear
shes no longer blinded by the fire
she is free

posted in poetree - 0 replies

free me

2005-05-21T17:49:39Z

i touch the fire and it freezes me
i turn away and then im back
back to the pain, back to the darkness
i fight to escape the darkness
from the shadows you call to me
judgment day had come and gone
i cant escape, i fight to break away
i want the fire back
it may burn, the emptiness
but the cuts you carved arent deep
but what will scar,
the girl you slashed and marred
lost in my mind she cries
exhailing pain shes falling
deeper into this oblivion you called love
force her to stay
she breaks me down to pray
to free my chain bound hands
the shakles break the metal melts away
my fury burns red across your face
your worlds ingulfed in flames
i touch the fire and it parts for me
i look back your not ther
my bodys free i feel i have wings
and so i fly away

posted in poetree - 0 replies

all for you

2005-04-07T21:24:12Z

lost inside this torment
locked in an empty room of shadows
i can not breathe
i can not sleep
because i am so alone
disconnected from society
i am drifting from reality
hiding
i am hiding from the pain
from the tears
from your absence
i am frozen
yet i am burning
burning in the fires of lonliness
emptiness
come back to me
call out to me
only time can open the empty room of heartache
i am drifting motionless
emotionless
your not there
and i am alone
come back to me
call out to me
i cant fight the fire without you
i can see the light you built for me to follow
but i cant see your face
the light is not to you
i see the others
living
breathing
being
in a world that is unfair and ignorant of our emotions
ill come back to you
ill call out to you
but only when the light fades
only when i live breathe and be
all that you ever wanted
because i love you

posted in poetree - 0 replies

everyone flows differently

2005-03-29T00:01:04Z

i was inspired by the title that joseph wrote and just spit that rhyme at that time
not bitin your style its word in time

posted in poetree - 1 reply

flow

2005-03-27T13:02:21Z

let it go
let it go
flow with the feelings
deep inthe crevise breathing
singing it all out
again and again
at times a shout
releases the pain
the shame anyone else to blame
for the daily toll
stand tall
look up from the floor
lifes chores
step out of the resistance
ask for assistance
get together
so infinity can last forever
whether you think not
boxed up fought
for the status
that got youstuck up the ass
crass let it pass
like the wretched gas
laugh at those funnny moments
heaven sent
repent from the discontent
chant recite positive
words and sounds
lift your soul from off the ground
just let it flow
move on with your life
and act like oyu know
let it flow

posted in poetree - 0 replies

flow

2005-03-22T23:35:02Z

in the face of my rain
comes rattling down
melting away as seems break slowly
this is the feeling long lost in time
written in reason
understood in sublime
coronary rhythms
ever pragmatic tempo
the complex becomes understood
but not like you want it to

the paths of the ancients walked analoganous
bringing harmony in their wake
never thinking twice
and honered twigs and snakes
mundane majority finding out slowly
nature isn't a problem
or even a catagory
slow rise and expansion
of ever intuned children
where the future leads
has not been shown to them
patient understanding
open and not demanding
a new tone besets
and others begin to agree

condusive is thoughts and energy
love will bring that harmony
understand every thing out there
and you won't hate, need, or stare
simplify the process of perception
and waking life is your conception

mornings and afternoons are quite the same
with a different name and no one's to blame

posted in poetree - 0 replies

Note to my lover

2004-12-05T00:45:07Z

A little verse I wrote down on the note I wrote to my lover.

A drop of water falls from the sky.
The world shatters underneath.
A rumble through humanity.
Can you feel it yet?
Has it reached you?
What will you
do with
it?

posted in poetree - 0 replies

call out

2004-11-25T22:43:09Z

CALL OUT

i call to him but there is no sound
i hear whispers of i do i will i love
but its just a memory
he walks the distant halls
longing for a helping hand
hand after hand no one reaches out
he is gone
walking in sorrows of silence
silence of sorrows
no one reaches out
he is there, invisible to the living
and in fear of the dead
he calls out
but only emits whispers of i do i will ilove
can you hear him call out
call out he cries call out
if only someone would call out
think about it

posted in poetree - 0 replies