I gird my consciousness,
Still fly in fear, still flee.
Grow pale, waiting.
Now covered in music, I wonder,
"Which is my pain?"
SCA Y2K
SUNLIGHT FOR A HEART DURING WINTER
I thank Heav'n again for the Sun,
That ever shineth, so long as Ever Is, and I am I.
Indeed, we are all gold, and red, and white,
Each incessant in awaiting pause that brakes the engine.
We are gold, and red, and white,
Preparing for the death of Sight.
So, why not hold me as a tattered coat,
To merry, don by fireside?
Clothing thy color by the bosom o' the shadow,
Where from is harvested stillness,
Grown in fields of crypticism.
Lo!
If one is humanly flawed,
Perhaps oneself the very disfigurement of a rainbow,
Is it not so that one's heart's forest woods,
Might be haunted by a tribal wild rumpus?
Turning, turning, even heart's lips,
Are drawn, and cracked, and peeling,
Pressed against by the abrasive evening of a California winter...
While even heart's oh-so-rosy cheeks,
Are chapped by winter's breath.
Hope dimming, dimming, while even heart's body,
Is manhandled, and prodded with prods,
And set about and again by All the Mad Hands of Stone Cold Time...
While even heart's back is shattered
With utterances of the notion,
That we are basking in the mist and the dust,
Of bitter, more than sweet victory's rhapsody,
All challenged by the demonic pulses...
Even while my smiling heart's grave is being dug,
Out in the valley, a hole they're diggin' there for me,
Wherein shall be lain my ego's prideful necromancy,
The Angel's Wheel of Self has shifted from its everlasting axis...
Groping all blind is for the heart without sun in winter.
Groping all blind is safer for the heart,
In this glory of a love all ever-lasting!
King Kong has long since died.
What good is it really?
Blue and black, and old and cold, it is all that is left of you, Kong.
So, are we all not gold, and red, and white?
Gold and red and white,
Preparing for the death of Sight.
That ever shineth, so long as Ever Is, and I am I.
Indeed, we are all gold, and red, and white,
Each incessant in awaiting pause that brakes the engine.
We are gold, and red, and white,
Preparing for the death of Sight.
So, why not hold me as a tattered coat,
To merry, don by fireside?
Clothing thy color by the bosom o' the shadow,
Where from is harvested stillness,
Grown in fields of crypticism.
Lo!
If one is humanly flawed,
Perhaps oneself the very disfigurement of a rainbow,
Is it not so that one's heart's forest woods,
Might be haunted by a tribal wild rumpus?
Turning, turning, even heart's lips,
Are drawn, and cracked, and peeling,
Pressed against by the abrasive evening of a California winter...
While even heart's oh-so-rosy cheeks,
Are chapped by winter's breath.
Hope dimming, dimming, while even heart's body,
Is manhandled, and prodded with prods,
And set about and again by All the Mad Hands of Stone Cold Time...
While even heart's back is shattered
With utterances of the notion,
That we are basking in the mist and the dust,
Of bitter, more than sweet victory's rhapsody,
All challenged by the demonic pulses...
Even while my smiling heart's grave is being dug,
Out in the valley, a hole they're diggin' there for me,
Wherein shall be lain my ego's prideful necromancy,
The Angel's Wheel of Self has shifted from its everlasting axis...
Groping all blind is for the heart without sun in winter.
Groping all blind is safer for the heart,
In this glory of a love all ever-lasting!
King Kong has long since died.
What good is it really?
Blue and black, and old and cold, it is all that is left of you, Kong.
So, are we all not gold, and red, and white?
Gold and red and white,
Preparing for the death of Sight.
THE COLD, VAST BLOB BLOWIN' THE GLORIOUS HORN OF THE KING
I have seen the Glory of the Coming of the King,
And it was hardened with laughter of celebration,
Like dogs playing in the sun, chasing splashed water.
It was laughing divinely in celebration,
Inundated with charm and holy power, like Krsna in the wood.
I have seen the Glory of the Coming of the King,
And it was infinitely chipper, like the majesty of joy,
Presiding warmly with just enough distance,
Yet presiding silently, such that,
Mystery tickled me, like cinnamon-sugar toast to my tongue.
Familiarity is the brazen horn sounded, its bell vast among infinite stars, cold and ordered.
I have seen the Glory of the Coming of the King!
All roads lead to God, a love supreme.
One common thread that runs through every song, or dance, or work of music,
Every print, or painting, or mural, every sculpture or piece of the visual arts,
Every piece of literature ever written, every piece of theater ever performed,
Every side street act, every school skit, every film, every moment, every death...
There is one thread in common with everything under the Sun:
Whatever statement the song or the piece or the performance is making,
By virtue of its existence as a created identity,
There is implicit in its craftsmanship work which, for all time,
Praises the triumph of Jesus Christ.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
Hallelujah and amen!
SCA Y2K
And it was hardened with laughter of celebration,
Like dogs playing in the sun, chasing splashed water.
It was laughing divinely in celebration,
Inundated with charm and holy power, like Krsna in the wood.
I have seen the Glory of the Coming of the King,
And it was infinitely chipper, like the majesty of joy,
Presiding warmly with just enough distance,
Yet presiding silently, such that,
Mystery tickled me, like cinnamon-sugar toast to my tongue.
Familiarity is the brazen horn sounded, its bell vast among infinite stars, cold and ordered.
I have seen the Glory of the Coming of the King!
All roads lead to God, a love supreme.
One common thread that runs through every song, or dance, or work of music,
Every print, or painting, or mural, every sculpture or piece of the visual arts,
Every piece of literature ever written, every piece of theater ever performed,
Every side street act, every school skit, every film, every moment, every death...
There is one thread in common with everything under the Sun:
Whatever statement the song or the piece or the performance is making,
By virtue of its existence as a created identity,
There is implicit in its craftsmanship work which, for all time,
Praises the triumph of Jesus Christ.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
Hallelujah and amen!
SCA Y2K
MIDNIGHT BLUES
I've got the midnight blues,
Everything to win, and nothin' to lose.
Won't you come and help me,
Find my blue suede shoes?
SCA Y2K
Everything to win, and nothin' to lose.
Won't you come and help me,
Find my blue suede shoes?
SCA Y2K
REIGN, REIGN, REIGN, DIDN'T IT REIGN.
Cobblestone road and horses' hooves,
Percussive in the travel,
Splash puddles, and we got good rains.
How I love to hide.
SCA Y2K
Percussive in the travel,
Splash puddles, and we got good rains.
How I love to hide.
SCA Y2K
TITLE: 'TITLELESS'
Title: 'Titleless'
Euripedes and Specklette harshing.
Someone to dance, anyone,
And I shall have it just so.
SCA Y2K
Euripedes and Specklette harshing.
Someone to dance, anyone,
And I shall have it just so.
SCA Y2K
TENSION TAMER TEATIME
Having just been confirmed by the Spirit Holy,
Won't you see an effort in the Upanishads?
Won't you end-grasp my momentarily diffused retention scapula?
My flea an ever-dichotomous, trans-habitual, tension tamer teatime?
Make-shift nine-dozen four-tool trajectory!
SCA Y2K
Won't you see an effort in the Upanishads?
Won't you end-grasp my momentarily diffused retention scapula?
My flea an ever-dichotomous, trans-habitual, tension tamer teatime?
Make-shift nine-dozen four-tool trajectory!
SCA Y2K
ANYWAY
Lies. Be smiles.
Lows and highs, long or short goodbyes.
Heights! Spite! Mighty throne, to the bone.
Humans be-ing. Be-bop, swing, jazz.
Plastic man announced the jam.
Chops! Flops!
SCA Y2K
Lows and highs, long or short goodbyes.
Heights! Spite! Mighty throne, to the bone.
Humans be-ing. Be-bop, swing, jazz.
Plastic man announced the jam.
Chops! Flops!
SCA Y2K
THIS EXTRAPOLATING
Outside edges ringing clear,
Like suppertime and hand me that,
But evidence of molecules, interior, reflect,
Buoyancy displacement,
Reaction with gases,
Classroom seed cup or Ronnie's hamster,
All this an hour of picking through
A bag of co-op brown rice
For gravel in my mother's voice,
Which sails in extemporaneity, gaiety, and severity,
While my mind steps gingerly from tree to tree,
And I catch sap sticking to right index finger and thumb.
What paranoid hunting, this extrapolating!
SCA 1995
Like suppertime and hand me that,
But evidence of molecules, interior, reflect,
Buoyancy displacement,
Reaction with gases,
Classroom seed cup or Ronnie's hamster,
All this an hour of picking through
A bag of co-op brown rice
For gravel in my mother's voice,
Which sails in extemporaneity, gaiety, and severity,
While my mind steps gingerly from tree to tree,
And I catch sap sticking to right index finger and thumb.
What paranoid hunting, this extrapolating!
SCA 1995
MORSEL OF HER THUNDER
She is like black coffee,
That rolls down one gullet to...
Who knows? From what?
She rolls in time, to rhythms,
Ratchets cactus chiming stoically, regular to my heart,
They are a morsel of her thunder.
A day of forgiving,
People know,
Have heard,
Or had watched,
When we were.
Gave me nothing,
But I came away better,
Not knowing,
At the time,
Only now, as I think.
When I finally see,
My inner dams and damnation,
See the river in others,
Flowing all around us,
See a road of glory,
I find the absolute forgiveness,
To forgive you.
She is like black coffee,
Rolling down one gullet
Rolling in time, to rhythms,
Ratchets cactus chiming, cherishing stoic pride,
They are a morsel of her thunder.
SCA Y2K
That rolls down one gullet to...
Who knows? From what?
She rolls in time, to rhythms,
Ratchets cactus chiming stoically, regular to my heart,
They are a morsel of her thunder.
A day of forgiving,
People know,
Have heard,
Or had watched,
When we were.
Gave me nothing,
But I came away better,
Not knowing,
At the time,
Only now, as I think.
When I finally see,
My inner dams and damnation,
See the river in others,
Flowing all around us,
See a road of glory,
I find the absolute forgiveness,
To forgive you.
She is like black coffee,
Rolling down one gullet
Rolling in time, to rhythms,
Ratchets cactus chiming, cherishing stoic pride,
They are a morsel of her thunder.
SCA Y2K
BLACKNESS
If you see black, you know which way to go.
If you see black, you know what's in the light.
If you see black, you can taste the tender fruit,
But be careful to return in same form.
If you see black, you can climb the music,
Of the harmonizing flute, nearly dusk.
If you know black, never show another,
For the pathway is obscure to the shore.
If you know black, your power is unclear,
To test the stones of wall,
Or walk near it at all,
Summons fear.
If you've found black, be careful not to ride,
The pale horse inside, she'll absorb your every care,
Oh, the mare.
If you feel black pulling at your soul, to take the trip again,
You know that you will never leave in same form.
If you hurt back, you'll be sure to feel them,
Maybe I can guide you,
But there are dangers, mind you,
Powers be.
If you see black, you know just what to do,
If you see black, cultivate for peace of mind.
SCA July 6, 1986
If you see black, you know what's in the light.
If you see black, you can taste the tender fruit,
But be careful to return in same form.
If you see black, you can climb the music,
Of the harmonizing flute, nearly dusk.
If you know black, never show another,
For the pathway is obscure to the shore.
If you know black, your power is unclear,
To test the stones of wall,
Or walk near it at all,
Summons fear.
If you've found black, be careful not to ride,
The pale horse inside, she'll absorb your every care,
Oh, the mare.
If you feel black pulling at your soul, to take the trip again,
You know that you will never leave in same form.
If you hurt back, you'll be sure to feel them,
Maybe I can guide you,
But there are dangers, mind you,
Powers be.
If you see black, you know just what to do,
If you see black, cultivate for peace of mind.
SCA July 6, 1986
ANNIVERSARY POEM FOR BENEDICT
Aujourd'hui, c'est notre anniversaire du quatrième
mois!
Je vous adore avec un amour magnifique dans la grâce du
Dieu.
Toujours, l'amour de mon coeur pour vous est imparfait.
L'amour de mon coeur pour vous est, et toujours sera...
Impossible,
Parce que de cas de notre innocence et de notre ignorance,
Et de la pluie épouvantables du monde.
Et de la pluie épouvantables du monde.
L'amour de mon coeur pour vous est, et toujours sera...
Impropre,
Parce que des impuretés de mon ésprit, de ma personne, de
mon corps.
L'amour de mon coeur pour vous est, et toujours sera...
Mystérieux,
Parce que l'abyss de vous et l'immensité de vous dans qui je
tombe dans,
Grandes et vastes avec la beauté de votre âme,
La beauté de
vos émotions,
Et la beauté de votre coeur.
L'amour de mon coeur pour vous est, et toujours sera...
Indigne,
A grace des imperfections de ma
vie.
Et l'amour de mon coeur pour vous est, et toujours sera...
Inachevé,
Dans les yeux du Saints-Esprit!!
Joyeux Anniversaire, Benedict!!
~(English Translation)~
Today it is our
four-month anniversary!
I adore you with a love magnificent in the grace of God.
Still, the love of my heart for you is imperfect.
I adore you with a love magnificent in the grace of God.
Still, the love of my heart for you is imperfect.
The love of my
heart for you is, and always will be...
Impossible,
Impossible,
Because of
instances of our innocence and our ignorance,
And from the terrible rain of the world.
And from the terrible rain of the world.
The love of my
heart for you is, and always will be...
Improper,
Improper,
Because of the
impurities of my mind, of my person, of my body.
The love of my
heart for you is, and always will be...
Mysterious,
Because of the
abyss of you and the immensity of you into which I fall,
Grand and vast
with the beauty of your soul,
The beauty of
your emotions,
And the beauty of
your heart.
The love of my
heart for you is, and always will be...
Undignified,
Undignified,
From the
imperfections of my life.
And the love of
my heart for you is, and always will be...
Unfinished,
Unfinished,
In the eyes of
the Holy Spirit!
Happy Anniversary,
Benedict!
SCA November 17, 2004
FIVE-ONE-FIVE-OH
They took me to the psych ward
I said, "I've found the lost chord."
The doctor said, "You're in for a stay..."
"Because your hold is fourteen day..."
"We feel you're a danger to others,
And a danger to yourself.
It seems you've got a little problem,
With your mental health!"
And it was five-one-five-oh!
A ride in the police car, to go.
Legally insane, don't you know!
Five-one-five-oh! Here we go!
I woke up in the crisis center,
After hearing the voices of my mentor.
The doctor said, "If you want my explanation,
You'll need some medication.
Just take the Haldol annd Cogentin,
Which I'll be having sent in!"
And it was...five-one-five-oh!
A fourteen day stay at the hospit-ole!
They fill you full of meds, that's fo' sho'!
The bills'll be so high, they'll make you po'!
Five-one-five-oh! Here we go!
February, nineteen ninety-four!
I called the Novato Police Department to my door.
I said, "Fella's, well, there's somebody harrassing me!"
They said, "Son, whomever it is, we can't see!"
And it looked like it was another...
Five-one-five-oh!
A ride in the police car to go!
Legally insane, don't you know!
A fourteen day stay at the hospit-ole!
They fill you full of meds, that's fo' sho'!
The bill's'll be so high, they'll make you po'!
Five-one-five-oh! Five-one-five-oh!
SCA June, 1994
I said, "I've found the lost chord."
The doctor said, "You're in for a stay..."
"Because your hold is fourteen day..."
"We feel you're a danger to others,
And a danger to yourself.
It seems you've got a little problem,
With your mental health!"
And it was five-one-five-oh!
A ride in the police car, to go.
Legally insane, don't you know!
Five-one-five-oh! Here we go!
I woke up in the crisis center,
After hearing the voices of my mentor.
The doctor said, "If you want my explanation,
You'll need some medication.
Just take the Haldol annd Cogentin,
Which I'll be having sent in!"
And it was...five-one-five-oh!
A fourteen day stay at the hospit-ole!
They fill you full of meds, that's fo' sho'!
The bills'll be so high, they'll make you po'!
Five-one-five-oh! Here we go!
February, nineteen ninety-four!
I called the Novato Police Department to my door.
I said, "Fella's, well, there's somebody harrassing me!"
They said, "Son, whomever it is, we can't see!"
And it looked like it was another...
Five-one-five-oh!
A ride in the police car to go!
Legally insane, don't you know!
A fourteen day stay at the hospit-ole!
They fill you full of meds, that's fo' sho'!
The bill's'll be so high, they'll make you po'!
Five-one-five-oh! Five-one-five-oh!
SCA June, 1994
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