Dec 8 Sjr1000
Ilion gray

Tonight I am unfamiliar
With loneliness
I am here
And you are not...
And yet
I will never forget
walking from the park..our son swinging from planet to planet
Through infinity
Indelible
Each of his tiny hands in one of ours headed
west down Malcolm x
toward Broadway,
falling in love with the broken day..

In the chamber of unspoken words,
Where cold truths often hide
whose doors oft go unopened,
knowing stories of human lovers past whose love
surely died from  
the fire,
whilst two losing lovers joust
in  a house of hope and life..
yet they light
That house afire
and watch it
burn down in flames
Of desire and shame,
And although it
Rained many seasons since,
And the winds come in
stronger than any seamans hands,
I can still smell the dank musk of dying cedar
......tonight I am unfamiliar with being human
Because from what I've heard...I have seen everything..
Humans are lonely....
I have never been alone...
And when the darkest of the ancient infinite emptiness embraces me....
Even there  in that unfathomable space  
where neither silence nor Angels have traveled.....
I will not be alone.
I existed,
Just as cloud
Always leaving
Never arriving,
As a
stone.....
I was a tree , watching days
Walk silently across time
I have forgotten loneliness
And longevity
as "humans" are prone
To fear the days raging on....
These days I
Cannot be human....
I am the cloud,
I am the tree and it's leaves,
Losing through seasons,
Yet my roots like fingers I have driven
Them down deep below the skin
Of the breathing earth..
Aging willingly
A tree, giving
It's leaves, hoping
To be crumbled
and shattered beneath the back
Of some child playing
under rays of sun
That were never mine or yours..to hold...or, to own,
Our lives as well we borrowed,
both mine and yours,
a face in an infinite crowd...
Only knowing what comes before tomorrow ,
I am a cloud,
I am the stone beneath the cloud,
I am also the tree beside the stone..
And as long as there is this
Infinite ending always at the feet
Of silence,
I will never be alone.

Sjr1000 Dec 5

You're a sweet sweet friend
said the rain to the wind
pushing me to find a place to land

You're a harsh master
said the trail to the mountain
leading me higher then I even knew
I could go

You're teaching me all
said the river to the ground
guiding me down
to mother ocean's mouth

You're the father
said the earth to the sun
bestowing life
in the great dark vacuum sea

You're my consciousness
said the darkness to the mind
which allows me to behold
the light
the wonders of beauty
all around me.

  Nov 28 Sjr1000
patty m

Sharp evening birds shadow the sun
setting across the water;
in dreams the ocean
comes to full river.
Many times we've climbed this bridge
weeds changing the color of the water,
stirring glints of conversation
the uplift in the veins
beating a flight to autumn.

I hear your string of broken bird call
raucous and wild
as years turn it to echo;
Startling paleness
a reverie of winter's chill
how boneless is bird flight.
the solace of wings.
                    
Now there is only one
                                      where once there were two.  

          clipped wings
          the imprint of fossils
          the rain's guilty tones
          smearing the dirt

Planks wobble,
                            set as they were.
                                                    haphazard, uneven

Now there's a blur of impressions
                                  the nonsensical strings in a litany of sound
                                                           ­                                 
Today,
. . . reflecting on  you,
I walk this bridge alone, touching air no one else can see,
                 one step at a time,
                                           learning to be ME.

Sjr1000 Nov 10

They're dancing in the alley
Wearing clown
masks
Calling for peace
What are we going to be?
Little Liza
Little Liza Jane

The west is burning
The east is drowning
What are we going to be?
Little Liza
Little Liza Jane

The night is broken
The day is howling
The moon is rising
Nightblooming Jasmine
the air is alive

We're all sweating in endless summer
The heat is on
Though we're freezing cold
What's it going to be?
Little Liza
Little Liza Jane

Grinding poverty
Those that have the money live
Those that don't die
That's the way it is
What's it going to be?
Little Liza
Little Liza Jane

Trying to remember
Love is all we know
All we know.
What's it going to be?
Little Liza
Little Liza Jane

Little Liza Jane, an American folksong, done many times, in many ways. My version. Originally published in 1916, but goes back before that.
Sjr1000 Oct 27

Traumatized
Post Traumatic Stress
Most of us
got it

Cortisol fear screaming through
our blood stream
Seeing or being something
people never should be

Adrenal Dumps
Road rage

Meltdowns in the
five to eight shot
morning or evening
it doesn't matter

Memories traveling
on the light of the day
scents floating in the air
the music
A facial expression
in a crowd

Holding on tight
Jumping out of our
skin

Embarrassment
Feelings of rejection
Than rage

How to handle it today?

The walking wounded
walking on parade
no point in going to the circus
when we are the circus

Maybe it's always been,
What do they say,
The human condition
is the condition
we're in

If we do it right
maybe
(there's)
(next time)
another way
to get it right.

Look no further than yourself,
be your own lamp
your own refuge
.

The rain washed sky found a mirror in his eyes.

Yet for some time as the end neared
he was hearing an echo
from the deep well of nirvana
urging his weary feet toward a home
his aeons ago.

The frail bones feeling the pull
drove his weary feet through rains
to be on that land one last time.

Look no further
for howsoever long is the journey
must come to an end at home
.

That night as he lay under the śāl tree
they strained to hear him whisper

All composite things decay,
strive diligently
.

Gautama Buddha
Sjr1000 Oct 1

The poetry of motion
Rotating light
Changing tides
Birds in flight, floating, diving, calling
Endless stars when the sky is right
Redsky clouds at dawn
and in the night
Cedar ridgeline
Across the bay.

The poetry of motion
Changing emotions
The waters are never silent
the poetry of motion
Allows the restless soul to rest.

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