Isn't it easier to choose hell
over peace which seems so
unattainable always?

You could either peel your skin
off, or you could kiss your hands
and be gentle with yourself because
others aren't.

A kiss centers the soul, it
moves you slowly to that hush
place that knows no boundaries,
deep in the soul of the world.

Mother, father,
Sister, brother,
lover, just kiss me
for we are one and the same
biological matter
the earth amassed full of nerves
and cells and atoms and quarks.

WORDS

Words
worry me
how many
did I use today?
Words
they frighten me
how many were necessary?

it seems to me
most didn’t do their duty
to what purpose
to whom
to what end
said to an imagined enemy
or a true friend?

I must pause
to think
before I sink
to the abyss of the inane
where words fester and stink

I must forget
unwanted words
delete many
from my unedifying vocabulary

others I shouldn’t blame
  though I know deeply
  in my heart
   I was taught to use
   the uncomely
   the meaningless words
   words that self-glorified
   sugar-coated which would but
   diminish me
   reduce me
   to absurdity
   words that hate
   that hurt
   that maim
   that cause pain
   and suffering
   that but serve
   my selfish aim
   (now regret comes too late)
  
   I should not be
   in the company
   of some many
    so-called teachers
  
    I must break myself free
     from the word-killers
     the word-profaners
     the word-defilers
     the language nihilists
     who seek to destroy
     beauty and decency
      for their vainglory

      how would I sleep tonight
      counting the number
      of inhumane and worthless words
       I spoke today?
      
      so often I wished
       I were dumb
       to be cleansed
       by silence
       to be still
       to be liberated
       from the pollution
       that has infected
        my better self
        for so long
        so surreptitiously
        without my knowing

         it’s past midnight now
        how calm are the stars and the moon
         in their eternal silence
         they speak so much to me
         and make such wondrous company

         when I wake tomorrow
         would I be a new man
          one who has turned his back
          on the past
         that has irked and misused me?

      the sage Lao-Tze in the sixth century BC wrote:
      he who knows does not speak
      he who speaks does not know.

      and that’ s all I need to know.

The Mother of the Cosmos
has a mournful countenance...
she does not know what love is.

I'm giving birth to Chaos.

There is darkness
upon the face of the deep:
I feel the void,
I hear the waters,
the darkness, I see.

The light enters:
I am delivered
unto God that I become.

Softly the soul sings
from her lips into a smile,
her soft countenance:
tears for the child of mercy,
reflecting the face of God.

I dig a hole in myself
and fill it with words

I am in the trees,
in the soil when it rains,
and my essence pours out:
water.

I don't go with the flow,
I am the waves,
the wind-pushed tide
in a deep, calm lake.

I am in the ocean,
in the morning air,
the breeze blows on my back
and I flux and flatten,
eased. A constant state of ease.