The Ferris Wheel is slowing down
  The ride is almost over
    The zooming up was thrilling
      The view from there exciting
        The downward swing was also fun
          Because it turned to rise again.

                                  It seemed the ride would last forever
                              But we knew that wasn’t true
                          We just refused to think about it
                      Til slowing motion made it clear
                  The ride was coming to an end
              And it would very soon be time
           To loose the seat belt and get off
        And walk amongst the land-bound
    Remembering the view from high
While heading for the Tilt-A-Whirl.
             ljm

Seek it,
an adventurer
and design
that of enlivening
sparkle

gentle, like water
not constricted
but active
alive,
as a child

life is better,
simply desire it
and find
it can be
transcended

mountains more
of potential
a satisfactory
passing
and writer
of your own
story

never relieve
this energy
as it is your guide
not one of perfectness
though one of
mystery
and
bliss

She never let go
of that feeling,
a sacred
in-tune'ness
with the
inner-child

a saint, or guru
a refusal to
surrender

a beacon of light
she reminds
all those who
cross her

stronger than the gods,
and more present
than a monk

the core spiritual
ground
that may have been
forgotten

Riding at the heart of the sun
where the glow of the heat burns
shall we call it magic or a misery?
an amber embers of fierce fire
the untold rhythms that burns

Rising at the ether that freezes
a weft on the unseen hem
left to sway at the tapestry
exposed, uncooled at the rays
eroded on the ever spoilt earth

Insufferable I am
The passion of desire
Denatures all of my bones
And sets my lungs afire

Ablaze and plainly brazen
I rocket through my veins
A welling and a tingle
The mingling of my pains

Entitled to an answer
Entitled as “my own”
My own is to forsake me
Forsaken is my home

My mystery is the craving
Not the other way around
I hunt to smell it breathing
Others forage pieces—
—left on the ground

More is all that feeds me
Blood keeps me alive
I eat to feed the others
My subjects and my pride

Everything looks at my sweat
Threat in droplets, all in stride
Working for the night’s regret
I never run or tire or hide

I keep it in and just at bay
It is a solemn price to pay
To know the dark can be undone
And be the thing that must be done

The rapture of the weight it brings
The capture of the finer things
They whisper in my eager fears
And I’m the only one who hears

Awake too early once again
Afraid to read myself to sleep
Because of badness always hiding
In the bushes of my dreamlands.

Filthy restrooms, windows where there should be walls
People that don’t seem to like me
Things I need and cannot find
My life’s work an apology.

Tortured pets and wounded hopes
Mazes made of halls and stairwells
How fast I can’t run away
From dangers with their faces hidden.

Can I drive on narrow rails
And not fall to the canyon floor?
What happened to the coins I found-
All mine for the collecting.

Who is it I’m letting down
As I discover that I’m late
And all that should have been arranged
Is still locked in the closet.

Who are all the nameless faces
Everywhere not helping me
But mostly getting in the way
Of what I need to finish.

Wide awake before the dawn
I stumble from one nightmare
Hoping not to find another
When I go crash upon the sofa.
ljm