Today’s cloud is a rainbow
Dark blue
Light blue
Orange
Pink
With white
Outlines

Some clouds are Pentecostal fury
Orange cotton burning
With daylight’s rage
Swirling and smoking
Working themselves
Up into a storm of retribution

The clouds descend
Bluish grey beasts
Swallowing
The skies
Consuming
All things in sight
Leaving nothing
But a lone tree
To stand against
The rain and sleet

You know where the ground is,
‘cause you’ve been there one too many times;
lying on your stomach, face down,
to avoid “pulling a Bonzo”,
or just standing on your side,
all curled up, in a fetal, counter-plunge position,
like in that movie.. the one that you loved
and watched over and over again,
only for the mirror scene.

I think I know what the frustrating part is for you:
you can always see the sky,
but getting there doesn’t seem to be
right up your alley.. even though you live near the airport.

And this destroys you.
That cracked up pain that climbs up
your leg every night, before bed down.
You know what this is!
However, you have no power over it.
You had a very long dilly-dally day
and now all you can do
is hope that you won’t
wake up on the floor again
and maybe, just maybe, if you plan it
well enough in your mind, you’ll
wake up on cloud 7,
with that big idea and with the means
to ******* accomplish something.

He looks like a trapped caged animal,
So evil and transparent
Almost naked among the cloud;
Laid bare,
For all to see.
He knows the end is here!
He hates the feeling of not being in 'control'
Fear consumes his mind.
He is no longer.

i pray
you see me
in your dreams

On The Sixth Moon's Night
I came to contemplate the cosmos.

I awoke on a mountainous range:
Projected were ten thousand isles, scattered in remain.

All dancing differently,
But constructing one eternal game.

To what extent might my eye expand?
To what end will death cast its sand?

Upon what shore may the waves crash again
In peace and calm harmony?

No matter how many curtains the Devas will draw
Or how many distinctions Māyā will make~

Always, the un-curved perfection subdues and surrenders to them all.

Like the water-way, cultivating life and harvesting it on the other side.

Formless, it surpasses all stiff form and creates a path of least resistance

To the goal of the heart.

---

You cannot carve a stone buddha out of human flesh.

A stone buddha cannot experience samadhi nor still a pond.

Mind is a mirror
that must be seen clearer!

But behind the glass and that transient social class,
What is that divine perception?

"The Ultimate Peerer"

The Earth went silent,
                                       it was the aftermath of the End;
the crooked shadows crept between all spaces,
                                                         ­                         then the Cloudfolks returned.
They stood still watching at us,
                                                      it was during an August eclipse.
"Pitiful are the sleepers who don't dream." Spited to me one of them.
                                                           ­                                                        So s/he took my hands and gave me a sphere,
s/he told me:
                      "You shall not swear your life in vacuity."
And so I knew it was time,
                                               it was time of tempests, and beautiful extinctions,
it was a time of grief and sharp pain.
                                                           ­      Their eyes were black as void,
those fuzzy white cloaks were cold, and those hands...
                                                        ­                                        And before I could even awake, one sitted in my bed and whispered gently to my ear:
"Embrace the Omega."
                                        And so I did.

I sat down with my friend one day,
curious, overcast, away—
and I asked him:
“Why do you not tell your children
before they fall to the ground astray?”

Here he turned to me, wise:
“If you were to have a demise,
would you rather know fear
or sail through the sky,
happy and then surprised?"

I couldn't keep her.
As much as I tried,
as much as all I wanted
Because she was the wind,
changed her direction.
Rode out the bumps and hitches.
I was a cloud slowly following behind.
Gray and boring.
Full of tears that I had saved for her.

Clouds, a grey dull today
That’s better than yesterday
Or twas it the day, before,
Or even the day before, the day before
The clouds a ***** shade of coal
Threatening Thor’s thunder,
Urging the dogs to bark
The birds to scuttle for hedges
Maybe tomorrow the clouds
Will be less intent
On thunderous outbursts
Instead scud lightly across the brightest
Of blue, like all good clouds should
To please the eye, behind the shades
I’ve told myself it can’t rain forever
Despite Saint Swithern’s curses
That the fifty shades of grey felt pens
Will run out of rainy ink tomorrow