Archive for June, 2009

what …

Sunday, June 28th, 2009

what is a man to do when his world is treating him so well
when he sees untimely death met with calm and dignity
and love taking all sorts of shapes in encounters sought

when feeling like a prophet comes nearly as often as feeling
like a persistent misfit in everything that surrounds
and wanderings produce nothing but more insights

and frustrations with physical glitches and mental chaos
which occasionally congeals into wonderful and lyrical
expressions that melt hearts and spark minds into ecstasy

when joy and inspiration is found in foreign tongues
and ancient music that in their abstraction strike a chord
harmonious with some eternally structured inner energy

that we all feel from time-to-time but mostly ignore
or deny in our frenetic flashing between future and past
while successfully missing the fine point of the present

so as you are reading this feel your breath calmly moving
to an ancient rhythm without your effort or intention in
and out in symphony with your heartbeat in your own song

of life and love as it sings along punctuated with your thoughts
and actions without ceasing over and over as it bends your days
and nights will it crescendo or nova or just hum along …

knowing nothing

Saturday, June 27th, 2009

The longer I live and the more things I do
the more I realize how little I really know

about anything and everything I thought
I knew so well or would know more of

with the passage of time and the piling up
of experience and life and love and things

Its humbling and exhilarating to find out
that I am really a novitiate in so much

its like the more I learn the less I know
but then there is this permeating knowing

that seems so deep inside that its coming
from another source beyond my soul

and I know this beyond is neither in nor out
but just here itself in this ever-presence

being and breathing are the core
while knowing and believing want for more

and want to separate me from the oneness
I know I will never know but to just be

giving in to the desire to know keeps me
and each discovery leads to more

riding on the edge of contrast beyond
the polarity inside the bud of learning

the longer I live the less I know and that
is why I awaken each morning I know

the moon

Saturday, June 27th, 2009

I look up and see the moon with its ancient features
as the sounds of the birds herald its waning today
I feel the peace that surrounds me and the pulse
of mankind throbbing in natures bed

I look up and see the same moon as I emerge
from my cave to witness the ravaging of the giant beasts
which may leave me some sustenance if I’m lucky
enough to survive the night near my fires warmth

I look up and see the moon while my eyes behold
the silohuettes of soldiers and their spears marching
across the dunes to carry the seeds of dogmatic obsession
through the bloody path of horrific evangelism

I look up and see the moon as its crescent shines down
on my pilgrimage to the shrine where my soul is drawn
by the incessant pull of some inner voice of love and hope
with the throngs of fellow travelers alight in its glow

I look up and see the moon as we boldly set sail
for the unknown edge of the world on the surrounding sea
of discovery and risk it all for fortune and power
to quench yet another set of insatiable thirst and hunger

I look up and see the moon as my head is being lowered
in its last homage to my innocence while others set about
my beheading as a symbol of their justice dealt
as the lunar reflections inscribe the blade with fear

I look up and see the moon’s textures aglow with awe
as it inspires me to sing and dance in its spell that binds
us in the ecstatic whirl of its ancient and persistent presence
marking seasons and tides as constant as the air

I look up and see the moon as I discover natures path
to healing and wonders that emerge from my studies
and leave the laboratory as medicinal knights to conquer
plague and pestilence that mankind may survive

I look up and see the moon over the fields of cotton
in which I am enslaved as I toil only to dream of freedom
from this prison of pride and gluttony that holds my divided
family’s fate in its grip that refuses to open for any

I look up and see the moon on the wall of bricks that surround
my entire country and protect it from the hordes that would
invade our homes and we sleep in silence and peace
behind its wrapping arms of our emperor’s reach

I look up and see the moon as I give birth to my first child
and thnk of this moment of light that is engulfing me
in this wonderful splash of love and light that spans
time and that overwhelming sense of roundness

I look up and see the moon as I invade Poland
and set off to carry the blight of aryan pride and death
to the unlucky different or slitheringly evasive
in my quest for dominance and power over all

I look up and see the moon as I weave the cloth
of my raiment as my forebears have for centuries
as a symbolic gesture of peace and the value of returning
to the simplicity that brings a knowing understanding

I look up and see the moon approaching as we land
on it to take man’s first steps there and leave our footprints
in its glowing dust for others to find and wonder from whence
these traces of our wisdom and ingenuity came

I look up and see the same moon in Seattle as in LA
the same as in Rome and Beijing and Lisbon and LQ
in its ancient glow that reminds me of our oneness
in time and place, in essence and breath

I look up and see the moon and its track that seems
to never end but know that it too is merely a passing
that we have become accustomed to all these millenia
and pray for our continued blessing with its light

some good, some not

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

some are good, others not so good
but they are what they are and nothing more
perhaps unless they are edited or refined
then they won’t really be what they are
but hopefully better, we’ll see won’t we

since this is a universal truth effecting
children, objects, ideas and words
that possess excellence in their freshness
that can be ruined by redirection and hint
yet be improved with work and love.

that doesn’t really say much so good its not.

my studio in june

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

No view but the walls around me
covered with my art and memorabilia
and work tables with tools and stuff
shrapnel from my life as a painter

The florescent tubes and software
folders anoint the drawing board with
lupes and tire gauges as the headphones
act as sentry on the taboret with a wrench

bicycles and oil-filled heaters challenge
the heat gun holder for space against
the four-by-four supported table that serves
as photo shooting tableau with its green carpet

covering littered with slides from past lives
waiting to be reignited into fires of inspiration
as the well-aged oil paints await yet another
day in the sun of creativity as my mind races on

coming up with projects that make me crave waking
every morning to see what I will end up focusing on
as my juices flow back and forth between pictures
and words and the physical and spiritual merge

into creations that make me wonder both at their
majesty and whether or not anyone will even care
whether they exist or not while I intend and desire
them to make a real difference in someone’s lives.

I’ve got a lot to look at here and the inspirations seem
unending as time slips by like a rocket seeing few of these dreams
realized, yet somehow, they are all coming together
in a syncopated collage of time, space and spirit.

morning noise

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

The morning News should be called the morning Noise
it bangs away at the pane of my brain nearly shattering
my delicate thoughts that are wistfully floating in my waking
revery so essential to communing with the inner voice.

Do I really need to know what atrocities are going on
at this very moment as they are all part of a blanket woven
from strands of enmity since antiquity and shouted in all
languages the same and can only be countered by bliss

and balance through pain and anguish as we slowly evolve
knowing our path is upward is of utmost importance and
therefor the input of Noise should be limited to what is required
to maintain a background for wonder and love. Shhhhhh.

a prayer

Saturday, June 20th, 2009

So spirit that lingers, show me your stuff
that I might find some new wisdom to weave
into the growing garment that still floats
just above my skin the one I will wear

in the eternity that has always been
and upon which I have been projecting
my limited view of things and places
seemingly filled with activities and meanings

Show me the bursts of real energy
rather than these mundanely vibrant colors
and raucous sounds that I think have thrilled
my soul but have only tickled my skin

Set me free from my self-constructed confines
and if possible let me soar with one foot
while writing with the other to pass around
the vision that has some real essence

besides mere words and pictures
but, yeh – I know, gotta have those words and pics
to trigger our meager blindered senses
into a place where they can but sample such wonders

So, again, have I blessed this place?
Have I allowed the flow to touch down
and will it visit again to enliven the moment
and let me pass it along with knowing?

Thank you for the showering of warmth
that can feel like bliss and humble me with presence
felt as a ringing roundness in my simple being
all I can do is be, all I can be is me — and we.

words

Saturday, June 20th, 2009

Is it having a sacred place or just the right
frame of mind and openness to the movements
of the spirit that brings with it the ability to spew
forth words that paint pictures with depth
and meaning in a poignant way

words that move to tears and laughter
the souls that hear as they resound inside
with ultimate knowing as familiar as your
mother’s womb and your own inner thoughts
that vibration that unites us all as one part

of the great fruiting body of humankind —
an illusion merely a part of a fruiting universe
which as ants we try to behold and understand
only to realize our unnecessary attempts
only blind us to its realities but here, in this moment

as words go beyond their usual employment
as directions, opinions and meanings they can
become the sounds of a pulse that carries beyond life
into the vast sea from which we briefly splashed
onto this parched vision we refer to as now.

work

Tuesday, June 16th, 2009

I’ve never really liked working
and have avoided it as much as possible
some say I’m lazy or a slacker
while others may merely ignore my reticence

or fire me or lay me off to draw my dole
where I enjoy my own pursuits in my own time
and feel far more fulfilled than at a job
where its never good enough or entirely wrong

working in exchange for food and rent
or the wherewithal to provide without meeting
the longings inside to be a real contributor
to something of real value to the world outside

It took me nearly fifty years to figure out
that indeed it is work I dislike not the people
within whom I struggle nor the places where
the dreaded acts of that work are performed

I love to labor at anything that directly provides
a valued service to the world that fits
with my values inside and find that when done
can provide the food and rent for years to come

back in Seattle

Monday, June 15th, 2009

Art’s too much work and poetry ain’t comin’ so easy
maybe Rumi will provide some inspiration that
seems to be lacking since I came up north
back to the too familiar and demanding
of my attention and responsibilities.

Even cycling seems to be lacking in its call
and wandering doesn’t cut it anymore so
what to do? Maybe just strike out walking
and see where I end up or roll out a bike
and do the same with a notebook in hand.

Got to free the mind from the tendrils that bind
me in immobility and lethargy to find that spot
in rhythm where the muse awakens and sings
like Charlie Musselwhite flowing out onto the page

in random circles of light and texture to thrill
my muscles into writing in keystrokes and script
inspired to speak of the vital essence and power
that trickles before the torrent of illumination.

Now that its OK to be private in public
I could sit anywhere and write to myself
or even recite without arousing any curiosity
especially with earbuds and a cell in my hand.

What’s to become then of those who rant or
just mumble incoherently into the ether?
Our seeming advances have taken their
background of quiet civility and perhaps

that is a blessing so now they can rant
in silence and truly be heard since it seems
to me anyway that only those deeper sounds
reach any height with true meaning intact.

The tide is rising, stay tuned.