the waves of feeling
so strong, so dangerous…
the hurt so deep it
penetrates and shakes
your very being…
suffocates your thinking,
till words are too painful
to be spoken…
and the darkness is so cold
that you burn down the house
trying to get warm…
leaving only the flapping
of shadowy wings
in a ghost grey sky….
may your spirit be at peace,
may your heart be healed….
may you rest quietly far from
the mouths of the soul starved!
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battered and bloody
– opening my hands!truth beyond the liesthat paint life as me and mine– nameless and selfless!awaken, let go!there are no walls between us,sameness, unity.cold water, deep breath,the flower opens, and dies…and life remembers.follow no one elseyour heart is the universeyour mind holds the skylimitless, be freegive without thought, without need,plant the seed, go home!
come…
in the river that does not choose.let us take our veangeful heartsand lay them at the door.let us dropp our arrogant poses,and reveal who we are.let us forgive, and be forgiven…for every child that dies of starvation,for every bomb that’s dropped.for every homeless family,for every broken home.for every prisoner, every victim,every hater, and their hate…for…
you have shown me your gods,
by the knives in your hands,by the stink of your breath.by your churches built,over the unmarked gravesof your own children…by the wealth you gather,or that gathers you.by the crumbs on your pillows,and the roar of your success,drowning out the tiny voices,you grind beneath your feet…you have shown me your gods,they look a lot like you…and…
the question we have to ask ourselves
Christian church?would He choose to be American?or would He walk the starving roads of Africa?would He flee with the women and childrenin the countries bombed?would He be a political force,or a political dissident?would He be a capitalist, a socialist, or an anarchist?would He self immoliate with the Tibetan monksin the name of freedom?would He carry…
tis breath, then…
that called light from darkness,and being from non-being.that, spent as wind,calling forth waves from oceans,calling forth land from water,blowing dry and forming.tis breath, then…calling male and female to join.calling trees and mountains to tangle.defining hill and valley,both far and near.calling forth fire from imagination,calling thought from inertness.calling music from stillness.tis breath, then…calling tribe unto tribe.creating…
and so it comes to this.
of passion, and unbridled emotion.my old worn hands tremblea little as i pass the cup.and your eyes have a farawayglint; not conscious, not here anymore.lips that once knew the languageof mine, are terse, and set.where did the living go?the laughter, the touching,that lay awake at night andwatched me sleep, as if drunken.and all the words…