Sinner

What have I done to my world?

Egrets

Pelicans

Whales

Are you diving into the plume

A 10 mile depth of black hell?

Are you in another dimension now?

Have you given up on this world of

Easy living?

I am guilty.

I work too much and care less

As one superficial lifestyle Blends into the other

Money seems like security blanket

It is Not.

My land is covered in a part of me that dies

As the sea spits up the overdose of

Consumerism.

Each time I feel the powerlessness of hope fade

I take my plastic water bottle and throw it into a

Bin labeled

RECYCLE…

HA!

Plastic

OIL OIL OIL…

PLASTIC

******* Hell,

I bet oil is in my food chain somewhere

A box that makes it easy to cook in

A packing tool to deliver me the goods

OIL OIL OIL

Saturated Guilt

I feel like a harlot

A sinner

A part of something I cannot stop

I don’t want my world to look like this

Stop Me.

From the desire for convenience

Let me take living down a notch or two

Let me see with a part of me that is lost

THIS IS A CRY IN

(the
sledge of redemption)

I remember my body gave me another chance

When I filled it with poisons that made me feel good (you know what they are)

Will you do the same?

Oh heavenly body that holds my own.

Can you ever forgive me?

Linaji

let’s not hesitate
let’s not broach the subject; butterflies are free
transform the unknown purgatories fall
from lofty 'par for the course' concepts to living life in purity

they fly a short flight (that’s restless)
  they fall towards the trees (that’s abandon)
    they light my eyes without hesitation

                                                     ­                  (that’s free)

                          "Oh my butterflies of clipped existence
                                                       ­                                       bring me more loves lighthearted clarity"

Substratum

Beneath the surface there are blocks of time
a keep ticking ticker
investments in soiled identities that are loosing
clots of what never was.

There is treasure too, locked away in a nautilus shell
waiting for the call of the wild key
bits and bobs of let loose and fancy free
Also locked away is my familiar
azure blue and tonic green amiability

The 'cannot' telling is the buzzing round your
sailent (fears) ears,
like unused sails
slapping at thin defeated air strikes called
possibilities...

here

I avoid all contact
(you asked me to)

yet here

you display stagnent reaction
with absent mind
you forget the yesterdays
and how you long to hear
what you ask me not to say

absent now
both of us have decided in secret:

lock out the playful place
slide below the surface (substratum)
(we find) serendipitous angst, common place
cross our fingers behind our backs
as promises

will not fix our fateful syntax

Linaji

You know what it’s like to be alone with god?

(long version)

(An infinite rustle of ideas
Silenced in this steady heart.)

Here my shoes fall freely
god knows I’m hungry for primitive answers; you see I relate to
life’s barefoot minimum while maintaining a full set of
godly lotus lashes, who’s petals fall like thin paper trails
where I rest my mind as I savor earths crooning tempo

At night with you god the fires burn like morning coals
Just enough to start the coffee, Just enough to wash my face
Just enough to sip away night trails made of lust from another existence.
genuflection in prayer is my choice because this position lends me a humbleness that makes clear my own yearnings, my desires are purified into understanding that I can never stop this flow of desire.
I pray with connective tissue smells of jasmine and myrrh and pinpoint the dust bowls of fury hiding north of my shoulder blades.

I am soothed by the contrast, where I bow my head and make my own pearls of wisdom to follow, you hummm to my knowing, you dance to my foibles like prince did in purple rain. You never ask for love,
I Just feel like love.

I ponder:
don’t you think god that this fermenting human existence is innocent after all?
after the fall
(after birth love’s forgotten all knowing)

for it is in birth
I am blinded by my mothers cooing call
and now, that’s all.
It really does not matter why I forgot
I remember now
All of this ‘knowing’ triggered by my failings

Triggered by the lack of ‘others’ to fill me up
Triggered by the desperation to know who I really am
because of my … failings

I look above and our likeness is astounding,
I may faint in the truth of it ALL…
I am flush to the bone
I fall
Landing in the crucifix position
Against the wall of Desdemona’s illusions I lift the veil

I open up to your call

(The

All

In

All)

You said, “and greater works shall ye do than me”
You said, “be still and know that I am god”.
“The seed does not fall far from the tree,” you said

The busy bees came through imagined murderous pesticides
That was my life (imagined) and their words hummed me towards my alignment

“accept your magnificence” they buzzed

then god said:

”change your focus and let your failings
fall like tears (did you say duckwater god?)

…magnify the joy”

And you will see

The

I (In You)

And
The

(You In)
Me.

Linaji 2011

she still* engages casuistic red-water birth
she still swims in the mote of her mother’s eye
grasping upward *(hope)  pure waters release
she wants more than peace,
she wants the ‘come out’ surprise,
earth’s birthed again ideas
a body not afraid of past lies.

It feels fitting today to wonder
the docks are full of slumber
sails are resting on boats that keep
waiting to engage once more

her

wild

sea.

holding back appreciation
from old stories

that don't apply

*Now

Moments that show themselves
through the joy of living life

Linaji 2011

He wears lots of light blue and close to gray
so young I wonder where does he come by
such tender knowledge with King Kong depth
I fantasize;

Here I am in his world
and my hands are on his shoulders as he writes
Stolen knowing
(must be lifetimes before, how could it be otherwise?)
I see the mist that circulates and falls like dust
dancing round the light
filling up the room we share
and I take the temperature from his body
as he makes love to me where inside his mind
already brewing
a becoming
of a thousand different ways to express
his heady stroke of my skin and darling wet flower

Books spewed (so many) about
are dog eared
all the greats are here
and a few I must purchase oneday

He is contained and unsure just because he is
young
but his heart beats like a grand scale of octave notes
who’s perfection between pitch
sirens those who want to feel his world
(like I do)

Lounged and laid back, surprising shapes of figs appear
In this… my own version of the best lover for me

Figs, pear shaped and small and dark purple
All ripe with my desire

I love his smile

It’s mine in this scenario
the parting of his mouth is like kings table
desserts
endless like his words; delectable, pungent, foreboding
far reaching
Sometimes un-intelligible for a less than writer like me.

But that’s why I wrote this,
It’s still delicious to find power in flesh and word.
I’ve simply fallen.

Linaji 2011

It's my love of metal structures...

it's the fly on my ceiling
mounting the world of light
paper think
dotted ink

don't look back
don't look back

what will you find?
sublime wind gods
whispering nocturnal tides?
no screeching
human heart beak ~ breaching

and...

there is no U turn

don't look back
don't look back

Linaji 2011

I’ve shifted again
cloned to this moment
movement saturated with magnetic attraction
Birds clothed with daunting spiral screeches
dives
into
black berry pie

Grandma’s hands veined with my spirit
called me to the pitchers mound
I see a possibility and I aim,
my spine speaks the diatribe of loosing
but my heart is snickering like an older brother
laughing out loud, copying my every word

( I am confused and a bit angry)

this a proven tactic my world seems to set loose on my
Learning.

Right then?

I care for naught; my heart nor my head
So then I think

Who am I?

I am suspended above likeness
Above suspicion
Above the ‘norm’
I am loose and I fit into groves
like extended membrane of rats
inside the crush of cellophane noise
four years old at christmas unwrapping gifts
freely expecting life to deliver

but a father, a mother, a friend, a stranger
warps my view
black like blue

Clothed in sound
It is almost assured the sun will shine today
It is almost assured the grass will grow
It is almost assured I will become more

Scene 2: I am back on the pitchers mound
the screaming errupts
such unruly delight from the crowd of my memories
going back seems deafining

I throw the ball
I hear a crack
my within and without
assembles like crosswords on Sunday
sound becomes me
the life I know
knows me
(we’ve been friends thoughout time and beyond)

all at once I catch up to the knitting of dreams and beliefs
Into something ‘not known before’

Pearls made from sand
ENTIRE STRAND…

I understand there is more than mind and heart
( blasphemy?)
I understand there is space between the moments
between breathing in and out

Oh sweet spot transition!

Crack….

Here I am

Right where I am

using the substance between the seeming separation
as starting point
of all I deem real

Linaji 2011

maybe I will go out there
objectively;
allow for it all

bite the dust
inhale the wisdom of failure

maybe I will ration the raindrops

invite the Tsunami
exploding fate

finding in death,
a likeness I never knew

Linaji ~ 2011

Hues...
left for my imagination
unzipped invites
the tree of thee
branches blooming with unseemly knowledge

shadows never fade when you are the light

Oh my dearest;
I am grasping our needs as I would wild flowers
skimming the tops and the bottoms for flavors scent
plucking your succor of tender misgivings
holding you like I would my own heart
belly to belly we have known this only in heaven
and I am not far from the passion of royal purple
hues

Linaji

What he will give is the incipient  bare minimum
of his heartbeat

He’ll reveal just 
the washed out clamoring of his  horded desire
all because there would be nothing left in his own perception
of a universe that may reduce his secret lust to nothing.
implode like terrorists on the fantasy of his greatness yet to come…

although we are born magnificent;  which then gets blinded out by all the hearsay of our original sin

he won’t go too far with a notion of
blissful ‘otherness’
nor squeeze too many lemons

he’s got no room for confidence sugar stored
on his empty shelf
however negative space can be
a good thing
(he has heard)

he’s dumbfounded when he wants more from someone
and expects the best of their yet to be born
mind reading abilities to:

just


understand who he is

or

“be gone I say!”
…(hehehe) -writer could not help it-

scathed in baby blisters by his choices so far...

it was of course!
all the:

****** babble of growing up in his Family of origin/original sin

where he learned to swim so comfortably in precious

Aloneness -----  -Aloofness-

and  there he became more real than ever

---Ahh well...it’s the grand excuse for

most of his life

until he feels the scratch of his riotous ‘settling for’
is bleeding ****** ******

and then one day he looks in the mirror and a ghost like

stroke (not yet manifested)

spotlights his over bearing mind to feel what it has
~done did~
disconnected with deeds of the heart

and foresight/manipulation
for naught

he then finds out his heart needed more than a cup of
tea and a scone (mid 40's)

he finds out his emotional impasse was so ****


false  (almost 50)

and that his lack of allowing others in
was truly a waste of mental constructs

(Solid 51)

this I know like my own dry eyed nodding

I was him

(the now pleasure of hindsight... 55)

but all the 'do right' stuff is cohesively on time
all the contrast that created a calling for

again and again  

this leaning

to love



Linaji 2011