I step in to the streets where my mind is clear
Nature feels my pain with her rasp in the air
Singing duets about a girl back home
Dreaming of my baby with her light blonde hair
Laying in the gutter with a knife in my back
Trying to keep warm with this bottle in my hand
I've got a reputation so I've got to keep it cool
I would take my life but there's the laws of man
My friend says "take a bump to keep your mind at ease
A coked up conscious will set your spirit free"
Trying to find God but my ritual is insane
Living my life through a lucid dream
Running through Salem with the wind at my back
They execute the sinners with a bloody axe
Got caught dancing with the ghosts of my past
They'll hang me from a scaffold for my witchcraft
My mind cries warning but my heart don't care
A dozen red roses with a note that reads "beware"
I want to rise to fame, I'm going to make a deal
The devil takes my soul and the reaper is near
The mighty rolling river is my sanctuary
Where the turbulent water reaches its shores
Landscaped by erosion’s rounded river rocks,
Every color and shape transformed by the mysteries within her shoals
Floodwater logs are cut for firewood here
Smoke dried salmon is cured and dried for food
Tyees’ souls join me here, born in quiet spiritual solitude.
Swirling eddies stirring, inspiring conscious universal muse
Water rushes past earth mother's terrestrial islands
Where eagles nest and soar up high
Beavers dam where flocks of geese swim
Blue Heron’s rookery fill trees to the apex of the sky
Head waters birthed in forked mountain high
Waters rise from beneath mother earth
Rapids pass villages plummeting miles and miles.
Gravity’s tug and draw journey to aid the salmon’s Holy birth
I know I’m one with sacred ground
Ancestors spirit's power is present at ease
The pulse of river water's muse
Is the pulse of this mixed-breed
The half-breeds myth, not Indian or White.
“Young buck born with a divided heart!”
We have big ears we hear everything
A step child orphaned, reborn into the spirit's light
The placid harmony of the river's gentle flow
Waters speak a mantra directly to my soul
I grieve the loss of ancestral grounds
Ancient territories pilfered for miles around
Upstream above where the mighty water falls
Landscaping this river's great divide
Cascading walls of water soar and plunge
From silhouettes high and wide
Centuries rivers carved and shaped an ominous path
Fertile valleys were eroded deep and wide by raging waters wrath
This place was graced through those centuries past
My heart's ashes will rest where river waters yearn to pass
Ancient brothers fished with spears from platforms built up high
Hollowed out trees, as paddled canoes, tended fish wheel traps side by side
In quest of the bountiful sacred Salmon, our food sustaining life
I embrace an ancient heritage, our spirit shall remain steadfast...
Mâyašlen yá he íčhiyopteya wakpá ipȟá...
Lakota note: Coyote was going past the source of the river...he sat next to me...
Standing at the threshold in the silent space
between thunder and lightening
Straddling the door sill of uncertainty,
stranded in a continuum of discontent
One foot in…One foot out
It's just a step away…One foot forward
while the other follows the wanderlust
of an evolving enigma
The first step begins
a journey of a thousand miles
Walk to the end of this long and winding road
Carry the weight of an unfinished life in this soul
Breathe in the stillness
of the tempest calm
The ethereal instant within
the eerie pause of natural hesitation
The exhilarating silent fusion linking the anticipation
between the bolt of lightning and the thunderclap ;
nature’s well performed sleight of hand
Two souls touch igniting carnal synthesis
Reaching upward to the heavens they draw strength
from the spirit of the lightening and the hail
The ominous sky’s anger … the storm’s fury fuel's the essence of verve
Vibrant celestial elements manifests a drenching downpour
Heightened senses are enhanced by an electric aura
squeezing out every last drop
from the enchanting moment of stunned silence
Spirits transcend a cleansing rain ... invigorating heart of soul ~
©Harlon Rivers 2013 ...February 28th, 2013
Have you ever thought about the space between? Recently I sat writing a list of such things...
This is a poem about what can go on during the waning moments between thunder and lightning
Creative writing is a type of subjective practical magic for the times when imagination
knows no boundaries limiting access to dreams of other realms
It may surprising to know how many you can come up with, if you made your list.
So as the list grew, so did emotive thoughts expanding upon
what the distance is or what it can mean to us....
Okay so things like the space between a rose bud and a blooming rose...
planting a seed and then waiting for the harvest, the first step in a journey
and then arriving at a destination, the space between love & hate,
birth & the passing of life, black & white, The silk cocoon & the Butterfly,
the moon & the earth etc...
The space is as infinite as the list of possibilities.
In this case I was thinking about the silent void of anticipation between a visual bolt of Lightning
and the raucous thunderclap breaking that silence...
how many times I have waited in that "space", that "limbo"
counting the distance between ...
I came across a drummer in an open glade
And sat before him to listen for a while;
The beats he played shimmered in the leaves
Causing my spirit to dance in the breeze,
While he closed his eyes to sing his song
And lifted his head to the clear blue sky.
Somehow I found myself doing the same
And in the space between us, my questions came -
Answered by the rhythms in the wind among the trees.
“Tell me, what do the drums speak of?” I whispered to the wind.
“They speak of the mountains, as solid as the earth,
Giving life to clouds and a course for rivers;
They have lasted longer than the oldest buildings,
Yet they must also one day perish -
Without the mountains, there can be no drums.”
“And tell me, what does the rhythm speak of?”
“It speaks of the river that has always flowed, is flowing still,
bringing water to crops and life to the breeze;
Sometimes a torrent and sometimes a brook,
It, too, must one day dissolve in the ocean -
Without the river, there can be no rhythm.”
“And tell me please, what is it that your song speaks of?”
“It speaks of the wind that gives flight to birds and breath to trees,
Heralding the transit of tides and relief from the heat;
Destruction and power dispensed in equal measure -
Unseen by all, yet when my song is gone,
Only the wind will remain.”
And at that moment the drumming stopped,
Like the sound of falling stones;
We lowered our heads, opened our eyes,
And the drummer flashed a dazzling smile,
As bright as the harvest moon.
We returned our gaze to the clear blue sky,
Bordered by mountains and trees,
And I could still hear the rhythm of the endless river
Flowing in the breeze.
I looked down once more only to find that the drummer had disappeared,
Leaving in his invisible wake the fluttering of soft Autumn leaves;
And I remained alone in that open glade, upon the mountain view,
Following the river in it’s course through the glistening trees -
And all the while the wind within me whispered to my soul:
“So it goes”
Once, she was a beautiful doll
Now disheveled and broken
Just a part of the old befall
Of dormant memories, token
With torn-out limbs and blind
Two black holes of despair for eyes
And a heart and mind still aligned
Her awakened spirit is on the rise
Verbiage startled her from her deep,
Hard-earned sense of serenity and sleep
Asking her to trust for it is the only way,
To leave the dusty shelf and play
When at my lowest
I hum a tune
It sends my spirit to crest
I’m once again immune.
Does the trick
It never pales
Cascade along the midnight street
Allow your feet to lead the way
Past shuttered shops and lowered blinds
And let your mind be led astray
Although some time meandering
And wandering bereft of cares
You find you've stopped and there you stand
Beneath a strand of marble stairs
You brush your hand along the rail
As you assail the stony flight
There, at the top a door of brass
And crystal glass reflects the night
A counter cut of fretted oak
Unique, bespoke and petrified
Encroaches on the lobby floor
With doorways on its either side
Within them dwells an ailing stage
All worn with age and polished black
And facing this are rows of seats
With velvet pleats and to the back
Resides a heavy curtained box
With silver locks and tapestry
Scenes of the earth and all above
Of love and whimsicality
Inside the hall, the lights are out
Yet all about an echo bounds
Of lost applause and orchestras
And raucous, energetic sounds
It's here and now, upon the boards
The darkness hoards a pool of light
Where mingling in motes of dust
And arm is thrust from out of site
A quiet amid the hush befalls
Along the stalls, a faceless glare
As set in shades of darkest dim
She glimmers like a solitaire
Her dance describes a careful tone
Each every bone at her command
Her feet tattoo a silent beat
The rhythm meets her open hand
Her features null and desolate
Her lips yet to convey a smile
She draws a story with her grace
With shapeless face and all the while
She skips across the empty floor
A dead score from an vacant pit
And through a haze of burning lime
From distant times her dance is lit
A swan song of a life cut short
A fable wrought in liquid gloom
Lamenting talent never proved
A bud removed before it's bloom
Its loss a crime against the world
A shadow hurled towards the sun
For such a life slip the hands
As dry sands through the fingers run
And now she stands at center stage
A gilded cage she'll never slip
A single tear is seen to leak
about her cheek, across her lip
She stoops a solitary bow
And dips her brow to those unseen
A cacophony of aphony
For her, the girl who's never been
A ghostly veil wavers free
As slowly she dissolves in light
Her sparkle spreads and dissipates
Evaporates from empty sight
She never takes a curtain call
No flowers fall about her toes
But still she dances for the dark
A tiny spark of spirit froze
reposted because I'd forgotten all about it
He met her in the courtyard by chance,
though pitted against each other
in a fierce competition, both willingly enrolled,
they fell in love, at fist sight, as if by a hidden cue.
Left out, by this turn, unexpected
they felt, no spirit of competition in them is now left;
two yarns in the magical weave of life
braided in perfect design, excellently blended in quick time,
can any one orchestrate a moment like this?
It's an apparition from the womb of time, on its iridescent wings
flew down to intervene, on behalf of some spirit, evil or noble
who can tell, except when, time is ripe.
Life is a walk through dark and enchanted woods
we stop a while where, paths diverge,
and take one, sometimes by sudden impulse,
most take the beaten ones, the less traveled appeal some,
holding the hand of a beloved bathed in silver light, at the moment,
will it lead to destination or not, one knows not, that moment is decisive,
at the end as much intervention of fate, if one views that way, as human proclivities.
i came out the dark knight @ a time of Halloween...
October 31st, aka 13!(thirteen)! its like revenge of the shin-obi
when the master ninja intervenes! ill scratch you off my ticket, no ANTIHISTAMINE!
I OPERATE OF PRESURE POWERED BY MY SELF ESTEEM!
life is like a submarine, aka 20,000 leagues
13 FLAMES @ the caliber of 90 degrees,
WHY? B cuhz his psyche is that of majestic tree$
he grounds his feet magnetically and sails on solar seas,
like dreams i am the cosmic center piece and your in for adventures anytime you mention me.
weathered emotions or emotions are weather, all we endeavor, just REMEMBER, that we're in it 2gether.
i seek for that lyrical gold, the magnificent treasure
where mere letters compose characters for the spirit of a ghost.
i control, their minds like buttons on a remote
reran episodes hide the codes, thru magic cloaks,
the lames don't want to feel my fury like thunderbolts
or 13 tornadoes and mashed potatoes.
nova flames ENABLES, his girl to experience rare occasions
Would that I could break my body from my chest
crack and spread the bones between my breasts
release the fluttering muscle tied within
a bird bashing skull against my cage of sin.
Would that I could unzip my flesh, step outside
to finally inhale, exhale without such tightened hide
that keeps my anxious breaths bound among
the shrinking corded confines of my lungs.
Would that I could peel back my ribs and skin
at the sternum to set free the beast within
unfetter the spirit that cares so much it aches
from all the petty failures for which it breaks.
Would that I could scream and rip my hair
as though slicing to ribbons each worry, every care.
Would that I could - would I? I know not.
I would just as soon have all loves be forgot.