November mist wraps a wet blanket
as I walk the falling day’s labyrinth
beneath neuronic trees of a waking forest
along a river dying in hyacinth!

the boatman sings a home going song
floats happy at the end of the ride
the river is narrow a few furlong
and his home is on the other side!

oil lamps flicker from the bank huts
winds carry their laughter and cries
grow darker tree barks as darkness shuts
all but the sky’s heavy sighs!

I hasten to escape this melancholic gloam
an alien in this forbidding night
the boatman must have reached his home
and the river is lulled in starlight!

All smiles are not same
Pick up the right one

Lived my whole life
near water or mountains
and lemme tell ya,
there's nothin like wakin up
next to something beautiful.

I spent all of this weekend drinkin,
partyin and just havin an all around
great time with people I love.

This past month, man oh man,
did I seriously have to revisit
some things that I thought I needed
to stay the hell away from, but
whoh how wrong I was.

Jimmy Buffett songs and
Brand New shows,
takin life as it comes
and givin up everything
for a chance at love.

I can write about God
and morality and whatnot
but if I really dig deep down,
what really matters to me
are the quiet moments.

Those seemingly insignificant
memories, such as teaching
my very young cousin #3 how
to fold toilet paper, so that
his *** didn't itch, evidently
his dad couldn't teach him that.

Am I still a boy?
Hell yes I am, and hopefully
always will be, never giving up
that magic, that wondrous sense
of possibility.

Is it a bad thing, that in moments
of forgetfulness I greet my grandmother
as Wendy Lady and she replies, "Hello Boy."?
Do I still watch the Goonies with rapture
and bliss and yell "Hey you guys!!!"

And yet I have walked through fire and death,
seen darkness in all his guises,
lived and ate and breathed horror
as only Conrad can recount.

I can cook, and clean, and provide for myself;
having lived off and on alone for years
so dare you not think me a child,
but my god I'll never give up that
sense of life, that belief and hope
that any and every day may yet be
and adventure worth the telling.

What is the perfume of life?
The smell of fresh mown grass
The rich aroma of freshly turned soil
That beautiful milky buiscuity smell of a young puppy
This then is the perfume of life

time -
such care in counting
the essence of

measured twice
- cut once
if wisely

a hole in a rock -
an atomic clock
ticking tocks

aligned in space
light years and dog years
- lines on a face

a living will -
a fleeting baby's smell

- shadows weighed
at the end of the day

darkening sky
drawing nigh -
palms high

- it is time.

r ~ 11/4/14

Would that Man
were like the sky
Which doesn't fuss
when clouds roll by.

Would that he
were like the wind
In patience blowing
rock to sand

Would that he
were like a bee
The common good
is all he sees!

Would that Man
were like the rain
Which mourns when
someone is in pain.

Would that he
was like the ant
Who is wise
won't say "I can't..."

Would that he
be like a tree
Safe heaven's
in its canopy.

Would that man
were like the bird
Grumbling
is never heard.

Would that Man
were like a cloud
But he's like thunder.
Warlike. Loud.

Could he be
more like a flower?
It knows that it
will last but hours.

Would that Man
were like the seas
Which only dances
in a storm's breeze!

Would that he
be like hard ground
Trodden...
... but a sprout is found!

Would that he
be like a fire
Warmth and sparks...
... his heart inspires!

He could be a
mountain range
Solid and in peace arranged.

Would that Man be like the sun
Shining down on everyone!

But Man is not like nature's best
As this world will attest.

If he'd look at her
then he would see
Then, finally,
he would be FREE


(C) The Raven
(C) SoulSurvivor

Walk away slowly
      Please don't run
Remember
    I'm still holding the gun
It's cocked
        And loaded....
Aimed at my temple
     Why didn't you listen?
The rules....
    WERE SIMPLE!!!
I handed you my heart
    Expecting you not to
        Break It!
You should've known it...
   I'm a ******* poet!
I can turn anything you say
     Into a **** ****** scene
Make you wish
      It was ALL A DREAM
But it's not
       And you're gone
I'm holding the trigger
          Thank God
I decided to use ink
      Instead of bullets...

For One to be Open,
all One must do
is not be Closed.

Aye; indeed t'is the rub
that such is so much easier said
than t'is done.

Yea, tho that be true;
t'is but the knowledge thereof, itself,
that arms the worthy Ones with the potential
to be Aware,
and thus
to overcome.

T'is not a matter of innate ability:
t'is rather a matter of choice;
of practice;
of attention:
of Openness.

Seek that you may become Open
(not that you aren't,
but I know I  so often forget
and thus I assume
that others must as well!)
by attempting to train yourself
not to be Closed;
try to remember
to not be Closed.

It only shrinks your world.
Trust me: I've been there.

I sometimes forget to leave.


Moral of the story:
Seek to be an Open Person
rather than a Closed one.
I don't mean extroverted or introverted,
I don't mean monogamous or polyamorous,
I don't mean liberal or conservative,
I don't mean religious of atheist,
I don't mean anything like that;
It's much deeper:
more fundamental to your Self:

*Do not close yourself off.
That is damnation.

Remain in pursuit of Openness.
It is the best path to Awakening.