Panacea
            Predestined
                        Predeterm­ined manifesto

The Mother’s womb where spirit blooms
Instinctual wonderment


Yet the kind are almost extinct
Wish and their screaming wings
To stars moon dreams…

The loneliest finds wisdom
Northward believing
So gains his willful strength

Being
            A “Self” beginning
                        Un-scrawling secrets

Once lauded in lament
Gone are its notes
And perforce coins’ anarchy

Collects in its place pockets full
Full of glory beauty
Accounts rather for star gazing,

Advice with considerations
Glow
Knowing now a purpose
In the Truthful

Journey
         Destined
                   Fulfilling

The lesser roads to constellations
Worthy of ghosts memories din
Renderings from every heaven

                        In evenings the stars destiny is written...

Poetry is...

A happy day, all holidays
And March Twenty First

It is a smile of a passerby
At a crosswalk in Times Square
After 911
When everything tastes like soot

Someone sees you
In the city's ossification of the soul
With all that is unjust
And with every separation
That fear wounds us

The fickle eyes we humans
Worship by
At least someone sees you

In this amoebic herd
Risking to get across the traffic
Precariously held by red

When green is safe
Is good / is Go /
It's a day
And a healthy sign of life

Here on March Twenty First,

Poetry is
A bright sun,
A Holiday.

Poetry quenches our
Withins
The soul's
Deep thirst.

Dungeonous landscapes...
As blind fears swim the abyss,
In my thoughts you glow.

Minds with light will see
Love's liquid skies where we bathe
One conflagration.

As deeply precious
The breath that remembers you
Soaring dark chasms

Imagine, Dragon,
Love for water will not thirst
Life swims in wisdom.

Tho' I dread failing
I will give myself to you.
In my thoughts We glow

*(For love, life and soul,
It's better to always know,
To have not to hold.)

Come Comedy, comely

of Errors or Divine, whether dark

even if dry



Come Comedy, comely

the quirks of your truth

bring tears to these brown eyes

come Comedy, be brute and quick

with your sarcastic, caustic wit

create an ache in my belly

unceasingly uncontrollably

(Oh nelly's & *******!s)

just leave me awry this way

almost like a mad mime

This comedy of latter days.



Come, stand-up

black or caddy

display / the punch line timely

come Comedy, comely

(please stay)

the hours of this life of mine

come Death, solemn and gladly


be stealthy and yes - be unkind....

laughing with the earthiness to our wine.



A cynic unable to cry.

nor laugh at the joke

which is his own lifeless life...



Come comely, sadly

all goodbyes...


a dark comedy

within bright eyes...

*(Pleading at the sky)

Muscle relaxer
Puts you to sleep, a gentille pusher
R X hits the spot
To feel easy on Sunday
Mornin's

When you really feel
The nothing
In the pit, on that spot, at the bottom,
Of your soul

When the air is thick and sticky
It must be sin city
It's juicy rife with indignities
Para socialite delights
Flesh not feelings

The world feels oddly oblong
Alien stranger through my mirror
Adrift and soaked
In the sweat of my demise
A foreigner with the earth of my eyes

As the stress drowns
In Soma,
A half mind in the clouds
My indifference just as hollow
As the experiences of a corpse,

Muscle relaxer
Put you to waking sleep...
    Is that what is truly happening
The experiences of
Poetry without life,
Life without Poetry...

Half asleep
One eye full of worlds
In our world
Every wonder
Everafter

Even in sleep
We fill our dreams with color
And soul and heart and
Meaning ...

(Loves light forever
Beaming)

It is just a hole...

Gaping puny or wide
uncertain of the shadows it hides
if nothing else
inside

it is just a hole.

I worry when so many
disguise / among us
impersonal un human un-persons
A traffic of panic
At mass / hysterics
Stranger danger
passerby
kicking and screaming
Dust and ****
Wordless eyes /void and thoughtless
deviant clerics subterfuge
mummifying manna and meaning
indifferent to our needing,
So so hateful in their
preening

(a predator will lick itself clean
until the hole needs to be filled...
hunger overpowering will.)

be
Careful you who mind
and listen
        careful not to fall in that
cavern
pothole
wishing well
cavity
(Gutter) ditch
sink hole
(an Unloved life)

Or singularity...

Careful of every kind of orafice
and every hand
that feigns well wishes
            they will push / shove you in...

Remember?
baby Jessica's televised face?
rescued from a hole in the ground?

It was just a hole...

and television is just like this,
an orifice
     a square/rectangular hole
that's loud yet saying nothing
But headline and panic
Like any tunnel, periscope
Hole
We fall for it
       The show's same ole
Widescreen pity surround sound desperation
Loudly
          pushes us in...

Just Another head like ...

and like your life and mine
        falling through time
the whole of you,
(Reason should be aware)

find some wisdom
open your eyes

Pay close attention,

you who are mindful
and listen.



*[Television is a shotgun barrel pointed at your face.~~the Birthday Book]

I am she
Who compliments and completes
The dream lover and the wish
Made when he is asleep
I am she

Who suffers most
Giving birth, cradling the ghost
Of the crone
Once and always
Sister mother daughter wife

I am she
Who waits through the night
I am she
Who equals the strength
Of his light

See me with your loving eyes
See me more than the tears I've cried

I am she
Who will go with him to war
Not a man but an equal
Both soft and yet hard
I am she
To whom he'll give his heart
I am the tunnel's bright end
I am where
The family starts
The breast that feeds
Small men

I am she
The twin, the Juliet, the goddess divine
I am she
Who deserves the same
In this life
Together in time

I am she
I am you
I am her
I am the one besides
And inside
She is I
The romance in the dress
Patient Partner to the ends
Tiny dancer on the floor
I am
The one that loves you
Evermore.

*(I am
  She.    
  I am
  Yours).

The impetus
Of being
      Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway

                                     River

Blues yet to be brushed
                           or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
a canvas like windows dreaming felt

All mindful
And chockful O'
                          Wonder
Then ponder
           Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

         Past the rush of liquid

Folding in itself / as a soundtrack
                         Listen
      Pedestrian be
Mindful
                   of the cautionary whales
                                                  Ahab's yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                      Or loathing

One's drowning in one's sleep

Look wildly widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river
                     Or up there beyond finger's point
                                   Sidewinder snake journeys
                                                        Until sky and below it
                             All meet
The distance

Now only a line
                      Coalescing what is beyond        
   Our ability to see

               Far and away
Evanescent
         Effervescent
                     Ever after      
                             River. Life.
(Don't leave...)

Here
        We are now
                            The spirit fluent
        With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run

Currents like a child's curiosity ...

When or why
                        does it end
                
Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
           Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans
          
We often forget to seek
                              And mind
                                     the sublimations ...
                                                            d­­riftwood.

So then,
Begin with a dot, a line
                     A speck of dusk
                     A burst of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastering
                   Raging fragility of water

Liquid undulations  
                    Folding itself in / volumes

Or falling from on high
                    A droplet cry

Then lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                       like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go
       There and here / underfoot

                   Over north / southern sleep
                                   To oceans twilight deep

Go wrapped or map-less
Or no
            Up yonder

There up there
                       Everywhere
                                    All without fear

My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun

                       A flow / the beating drum
Always on the run...

And
           Yet
                   Still
                            Here.

                             ­                                                               
RIVER.

Let's pretend I can read your mind.

What kind of words would you not say,
     whose name would you hide?

What places would you flee, in dismay,
or wish to caribbean-cruise to?

If I could hear your love,
what would it tell me
     that I do not already know?
What kind of fantasies would whisper?
Will your fears be softly moaned,
or scream loudly to be let go?

Let's pretend you knew I could
hear deeper all your silences,

     how many flatteries, there, would echo
like broken vinyl,
a skipping heartbeat, a flat tire... (blown)

Would you still lie, if you knew--that I knew,
still believe them?
Still make me believe you?
(never telling the truth)

Let's say you could
hear my thoughts...

Would you condemn me and herald my secrets?
Command me for your work
     make me a lackey
     or say I'm crazy
to everybody a nobody...?

If you could see through me
or feel my worst hurts,
would you understand \why and how
my heart should burst?

And of course, this is all make believe,
imagination at it's height,
     but true life is another sort
     of story

from our minds' eyes
to witness
to be told :  be realized.

And every tale has once come true:
man now
     flying, cloning,
          in rockets to the moon,

I'm sure my fiction will be
written soon
if not already in that book...

what kind of mood
He must of had when craving
King & Koontz
the idea of me...
           (and god knows who?)

scratching chin
his beard of white
in a bowl of crocodile tears,

playing pretend,
and silent night
with our living years...

Deans in gabled suits
Eloquent body, jazz smooth,
Sweeps her off her feet.