The stream (all workshops)
I was born
as an angel
as a free soul
then who cuffed my wings
and raped my soul?
Every relation betrayed
every relation sold
a part of me
a part of my soul
was I so difficult to hold?
Soul of mine
tries its best
to ease my pain
but silly forgets
the blazing heart
I ask me
I ask myself
is existence such a curse
or being such a pain
poor! With What words could it define?
in the night's frenzy
entertaining huddled shadows of doubt
sits the recluse of fear, hunched
over in a dark and heavy shawl
the nightingale sings her sweetest song
and the night-blooming jasmine perfumes
the courtyard with melancholy sublime
a preying mantis sits on my shoulder
whispering secrets I can not tell lest you
awaken from your dream and see me for
what I am--
a will-o-the-wisp, a waif weeping, a willow
dancing with the hunger
that is the blood of life,
my cup is empty,
room
walls that run
the dust and pitted realms
cascade surreality
why are there no photos
Everywhere
sitting casting our notions
like nickles in a fountain
sitting in the rain
and wondering
this symphony of great
heaviness dancing
The smile you see on the face
A mask, like actors of old, a play
To cover sadness from lesion
Wounds inflicted by tiny needles
Of trying efforts, love not returned
Scornful glances and desertion
I am left in the open to be beaten
By rain and sun, in harsh climates
THE LOTUS EATERS [ Euthanasia]--updated
THE LOTUS EATERS
[Euthanasia]
they ate of the seed of the lotus
hues of yellow white and dawn red
scents of eastern spices
gracefully flowing
on a warm Aegean breeze
and into the bliss of forgetfulness they fell
lost to this world’s dreaming
no thoughts of a heaven
no fears of a hell
and from a distance
I saw their wanderings
these eaters of the lotus seed
as each began to fade
into a sleep strange and still
never to wake again
let Malachite butterflies lift us from
organic stupor and modify the
conditions of love and art that would fool
our eyes,:
let form fill content and foliage adorn
our namesake, the intensity of
fulfillment cover naked presence
and steal orchids from bewildered eyes
but are not words thieves,
clinging to indifferent streets
and riot with declarations of thoughts
in stark, bare walls of uninspired minds?
A South Carolina July night
way back in nineteen sixty five
summer air so warm and damp
it almost seems alive
Lying beneath an open window
before universal conditioned air
watching fire flies on the screen
hearing a desultory bark somewhere
Sheets and pillow wet with sweat
sleep seems so very far away
air so thick it comes in bites
mind keeps reviewing the past day
A silent flash of distant storm
long delayed thunder rumbles, deep
at last a cool breeze from the window
finally wafting me to sleep
Pain a figment of the mind
Love an illusion of a kind
The game we play,
because we hope and dream.
Fairy tales always end,
with happily ever after
Happy endings don't exist
But, bitter agony does
Shall I read the list
of all the misery?
The list never ends.
But, defeat is not admited
because life is given to love
when you believe in happy endings
i
no words are suspended
between silence of night
and dawns morning light
ii
declarations of now
touched lips and life inhaled
into souls once breathless
iii
the color of night shimmers
in the afterglow of rightness
to form paths of intimacy
fused into skin as fingertips
ink their own course
.
When papa died, it became clear
I stepped into the shoes he held dear
Though he wanted me by his side
The gulf between us was so wide
Our habitual ways were worlds apart
I needed to adjust and to make a start
Before sudden death took him away
I am left here to do things my way
I asked for the counsel of an elder
To watch over my right shoulder
For my mistakes, I was so sorry
The old man told me not to worry
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