Eternal Shores

The salty beach air was a familiar comfort.
Sitting on the sand was just as peaceful as
it had ever been. It was late afternoon yet
he sun had scarcely shown it's face. Grey
shrouded this day.

I have to sit still and close my eyes to listen.
I listen as intently as I can. I try to listen with
the whole of my body. I try to let vibrations
fill me and resonate. I try to see past vision.
Sound fills and consumes. Is this the first
vibration? The sound of creation? The first
sound and the last sound of this existence?
I open my mouth and let my throat create
a response. Primitive sound, first sound.
It merges with what has filled me. Now
we resonate in key. I slow my breathing
to match the unseen waves. It is here and
it is I as well. Created from this and to this
we will return. Time is the illusion. This
is forever. A present without end. Only
here. Only now. Only forever and ever.

first calling

Rising with the light
I let go of passing dreams
and wipe the sleep
from my eyes
What do I seek
on this day
What will be
revealed
What will be
hidden still
Faint light
grows stronger
Call of the first
bird of morning
drifts through
looking for
one willing
to listen

Current Forms

Blooming flower at the edge of Winter
Your face basks in the chill of dawn
We gaze upon each other 
Many lives
Many forms ago
Yet we are unchanged
in our flowered essence 

even summer flees

warm mornings give way to grey

the turning of seasons

We wish to protect the innocent
as long as we can because this life
will do everything it can to take it away.
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Cream Scene Boogie Machine

rise

to live
to rise
to breathe
to witness
to accept
to change
to be
to be
closer to
whole

morning 10/24/17

Fill the page with something

It doesn't have to be anything important

Let the words come out as easily or as 

awkwardly as they like it makes no difference

Let thoughts be the steady stream feeding

into the roaring river 

Every song you sing is a prayer

Morning 10/23/17

Sitting here and waiting
for nothing and no one
What more is there
There is more
Waiting just beyond
Where our vision lies

I speak of hauntings
Yet it is only memory
of which I speak
To accept the past
and let it go
How hard is this
lesson to learn?
We carry this truth
with us until we are
ready to accept it

Endlessly walking through
doors and hallways
Spectator and participant
to mine own life

History written by both
winner and loser
yet is it not possible
we both lost?

I am still searching for
completion
This task is endless
Perhaps actualization
has occurred
Perhaps it is all past

We move and live
We gain and lose
We continue until
we no longer can

Why escape from myself
when I will always be there?
To become more myself
To become more present
To become more whole

What could make us happy
could undo the lives we've made
so we keep these lives
and let the heart keep it's secrets
alive within us

The Old Shack

He had just woken up from an overly long nap
and saw that it was almost 11p.m. That was
pretty much an entire Saturday evening gone.
Normally, he would just go to the bar down the
street for a few rounds to pass the time and talk
to the regulars but he was more broke than usual
this night. He put on shoes and a hoodie and got
in his car. He drove through the neighborhood
and started hitting the major streets. He inched
closer and closer to the beach. Next thing he
knew he was driving along the black coast.
The sound of unseen waves steady as a heart
beat on the sand. He loved this stretch of beach
late at night. Hardly anyone around to disturb
him. Just the steady pace of the car moving home
across the distances. Finally, the shore disappeared
from view as the road began to slope downward
towards a stoplight. He came to a stop and sat there
waiting for the light to turn. He passed a small beach
bar that looked modestly busy. It was called 'The
Beach Shack'. He passed it and continued on through
the neighborhood. He slowed down and parked his car
in front of an old bungalow. He looked at it for a moment
and began to think of all the times he had spent there
with Annie. All the times he had woken up next to her.
The hours spent in the living room and bedroom. The smells
of dinner wafting through the house. The soft padding of
their cat Candy back when she was still alive.
That was all gone. She was gone. Only he remained.
He decided he would drop by the shack tonight after all.

Eventually. everything is about death.

Surely, we must let the rains fall
as we must let the sun shine.

Stay focused on the small tasks
in order to slowly achieve the large ones.

Routine

I felt her get out of bed and the sudden absence
of her body next to mine. I saw her at the foot
of the bed, skin bare in the slight chill of morning.
She gathered her towel and things to take a shower.
I let my mind wander as the sound of falling water
came steady from the bathroom. I gazed at the ceiling
as though I could divine the future from it. How much
of this life has been a dream? How much of it have
I actually lived to its potential? How much time yet
remained? I heard the falling water stop and the glass
door slide open. I could imagine the contours of her
being dried off. I thought of all the small touches we
had given other, touches of hands, fingers gently
grazing the nape of the neck, hands stroking the full
length of our backs. This comfortable intimacy.
She walked back into the room wearing her favorite
robe with her hair pulled up into a towel. She smiled
at me in the way that has always left me hopelessly
in love with her. "Are you going to take a shower?"
she asked. "I'll take one in a minute. Not in a big
rush right now." I said. "I'm going to have some
breakfast. Do you want me to fix you anything?"
she asked. "I'll probably just have some milk and
cereal." I said. She walked over and leaned down
to kiss me on the lips. That natural sweetness of
heart and body. How many years had I lived
without it in my life? She stepped out of our room
towards the kitchen. The residual warmth of her
shower was calling. I closed my eyes and found
myself so near and so far away.

Abstract and Concrete

How can I define my goals and ambitions?
How can I expand my heart and mind?
How can I foster my connection to the universe?
How can I become more compassionate?
How can I become a more creative and intuitive person?

These are some of the things I wonder
as I try to move closer to some of my goals.
Some have proven concrete ways to be achieved.
Others are more abstract in their realization
but nonetheless are part of this physical world.

Have you awaken
I think of you even now
My former lover

a path to better

I'm trying to take better care of myself these days
and I hope that you are too.
I've been sleeping much better than I have
in many months
Most of that is probably due to my complete
lack of drinking
I'm ok with that change
I'm fine saying no to a drink
I just feel better about myself
I've even begun to lost some weight
I've been playing more music and
I've been writing more
I wake up feeling rested
instead of half dead
Why had I been doing to myself
what I had been doing to myself
for so long?
No good answer
but that isn't where I am now
For that I can be glad

Morning 10/17/17

Were things always easier in the past or is that
just a collective delusion created by our nostalgia?
The passing interval between the years of our
lives makes it easier to believe the past as a golden
time we must get back to. More often than not
this is a falsehood we grow to believe.

__________________________________

Voices in unison
Fervency of heart
Turn the ecstatic
into actuality

__________________________________

As though as fragile peace has taken hold
within me, now I must do my best to maintain
that balance.

__________________________________

Waking up sober and clear-headed, no worries
from a night free of my favorite vice.

Crucible in a Death Hand

Will you accept the ugliness of this life?

The Way to Where?

If the answer is there
What will you take it to mean
Will you take it at all
Unspool my ego from my soul
What good has it done me
Unbind my heart
Let it beat freely
These days of learning
Hard lessons must be lived
Hard lessons yet to come

Morning 10/16/17

Must we be willing to accept horror as though
nothing can be done about it?
__________________________________

Go to bed early and you will wake up early.
If you wake up early you might see the sky
just before the full measure of dawn. You
will hear the stillness of morning, the birds
waking and speaking, and the quiet of a
silent home. The day arrives unspoken and
lets itself in.
__________________________________

There is a dream of peace
There is a dream of freedom
Yet can these dreams become flesh?
How much unkindness we foster
against one another
And for what reason?
And for what possible good?
Creatures of such potential
yet how do we spend on our time here?
I rest and rise and repeat this
over and over again hoping
that we get closer to an ideal
worth striving towards
worth becoming living reality
__________________________________

Let your heart break a piece at a time
Remember those who must bear
the experiences and live with
the memory of trespasses against them

___________________________________

What good are your senses if
you do not respond to them?
___________________________________

Echoes of Wind

cool morning
dry wind passing through
season of burning
air heavy with ash
fire has consumed

Past & Memory

We create the history we wish to believe.

A wise man was once reputed to have said that.
I don't know if I should believe it because many
fools have attributed such statements to unnamed
wise men in order to give credence to their own
words. I ask myself if it is true, however. How
many of the events of this world do we take on
the word of others? Most, I would imagine. It is
foolish to think we could verify all things in this
world but some we can at least take on the account
of those who were there. On a smaller level we
do this in our lives. How much of our lives do we
truly remember? Think of that for a moment.
Multiply that by countless humans living and dead
and you can begin to see the problem. I wonder
how much of my own life I cannot recall. My own
birth, for one. But who would expect that or want
to in any case? As we live and move forward in
this life we create gilded coverings for our memories.
The past becomes an amalgam of truth and fiction.
We are the authors and audience of this. As time
passes these thoughts become codified in our minds
as gospel. Is it possible to live without this occurring?
I imagine that it might be possible but I cannot say
definitively that it can. We sit and think of these
things and cannot give ourselves an answer.
If there were an answer would it be one that we
could trust? Do you trust yourself to tell your
own story as honestly and truthfully as possible?

How long must this eternity be?

Wolves & Daggers 

Young Days, Old Memories

Awake
Arise
Air of life
Breath of dawn
Coolness on skin
Dawn of the new
Dawn of the same
Everyone must rise
For this and every day

And

And once there was nothing
And then there was
And then there was everything
And then there were beasts
And then there was man
And then man was spread
throughout the world
And then man forgot
And then man kept trying
to remember
And then man remembered
And then some men
wondered if it was too late

Oh, Honey

I know the struggle
for peace of mind
Yet it doesn't get easier
How do we live
with ourselves
I ask myself
all the time
We do
for the most part
Peace and joy
and happiness
still live
still exist
even when we
have to dig deeper
to find them in
this life
How much pain
will you suffer
How many tears
will you shed
I cannot say
It hasn't been enough
There will be more
Always more
This life will never lack
for these
I will be there
suffering with you
We all must suffer
We must take our pain
and create a way
towards the light
This is the task
we must see through
but we are never alone

How many years gone?
How many remain?

Calling life by name
What words escape your lips
Or will they remain
caught on your tongue?

Sparrow couldn't get you to listen
so Sparrow kept speaking as much
as he could in the vain hopes that
maybe something would stir with in
you to help bring about understanding
This was not to be unfortunately

Places to Go, Parts to Play

I heard a voice begin to sing
from a distant place
I could hear the voice
clearly in my mind
Everywhere I went
the voice followed
singing it's songs
and melodies
I started walking and
decided to walk
until I could find the voice
So I walked and walked
and occasionally slept
then walked and walked
and slept some more
How many days passed
in this manner
I do not know
I kept listening
and walking
and at times I felt closer
At night I would watch the stars
and feel the coolness on my skin
the voice still singing
though a bit more quietly
and now singing lullabies
One night I fell asleep
and when I woke
I could no longer hear the voice
singing nor it's beautiful melodies
I looked towards the blinding sun
and decided to walk home
Every so often I remember
that voice and cry
and wonder if
such beauty could
exist again

Empties

Empty liquor bottles gather dust
sitting on the floor.
Soldiers without purpose
Life's blood drained and gone
So why do they remain
A silent testament
to night's of half-bred thoughts
and delusions
to cauterize the weight
of each day that had passed
Buried above ground
until they are tossed into
a heap and their bodies
shatter into shards

There are people staring
There are people who always say something
There are people who always do nothing
Don't mind them
Don't listen to them
Let me them be nothing

incarnation of this life
existing in this time
for how many years
for how many more lives

lay down your words

Color / Birth / Rhythm

Color of morning
Color of waking
Warmth amongst the slight chill
of sunlight fading into being

Remember the place
from before you were born
Return to this endless home
From birth to life
to where we return
Remember the place
from before you were born

Listen to the heartbeat
Calm and measured
Rhythm of life
Simple

Unconditional Kindness

There have always been
            will always be
those who prey
on kindness
as a sign of weakness
How sick
does one have to be
to see the full measure
of open heartedness
as weakness

True-

weakness does exist
in us but only as
brutish strength
that believes
itself entitled
to everything

Sleep

I'm sleeping better these days
It's a small thing in a vast world
but it's a big thing in a small life
The pain
The suffering
that afflicts many
is still there
It is not far from my mind
but I am better
for being able to deal
with myself
so I can deal
with everything else

Looking for peace in a world torn apart by madness.

Wild Forest Blood - Music for Incidents

Waking and breathing
Normal gift
given over and over
Are you grateful still?

Present and Afterwards

What will be remembered 
once all memory has been exhausted
Will it be anything worth holding on to

Grow up and be a better man
Leave the bitterness in the past
Free yourself