Beyond the massif peaks of Europa,
Above the ancient pillars of Heracles
Where rain and ocean are weaving,
Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves
And noble strands, my beaten hearts
Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands
Of Galicia.
                   Where Incomparable, dark
Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian
Fairness, side the valleys and moors
Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive
Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings
Of the ram and moans of ewe, where
Way bountiful seas are over spilling,
In octopus and pearly gemmed shells,
The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding,
Where incense burns with under stars
Encased, the lost Atlantean temples
Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels,
The clad forests of wandering Titans,

Where snow white beaches end forever
Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway,
As was the magi gift of treasured yards,
Enlightenments, of old and golden isles
Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs
Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal,
Galicia.

Beyond the massif peaks of Europa,
Above the ancient pillars of Heracles
Where rain and ocean are weaving,
Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves
And noble strands, my beaten hearts
Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands
Of Galicia.
                   Where Incomparable, dark
Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian
Fairness, side the valleys and moors
Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive
Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings
Of the ram and moans of ewe, where
Way bountiful seas are over spilling,
In octopus and pearly gemmed shells,
The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding,
Where incense burns with under stars
Encased, the lost Atlantean temples
Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels,
The clad forests of wandering Titans,

Where snow white beaches end forever
Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway,
As was the magi gift of treasured yards,
Enlightenments, of old and golden isles
Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs
Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal,
Galicia.

Beyond the massif peaks of Europa,
Above the ancient pillars of Heracles
Where rain and ocean are weaving,
Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves
And noble strands, my beaten hearts
Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands
Of Galicia.
                   Where Incomparable, dark
Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian
Fairness, side the valleys and moors
Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive
Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings
Of the ram and moans of ewe, where
Way bountiful seas are over spilling,
In octopus and pearly gemmed shells,
The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding,
Where incense burns with under stars
Encased, the lost Atlantean temples
Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels,
The clad forests of wandering Titans,

Where snow white beaches end forever
Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway,
As was the magi gift of treasured yards,
Enlightenments, of old and golden isles
Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs
Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal,
Galicia.

Beyond the massif peaks of Europa,
Above the ancient pillars of Heracles
Where rain and ocean are weaving,
Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves
And noble strands, my beaten hearts
Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands
Of Galicia.
                   Where Incomparable, dark 
Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian
Fairness, side the valleys and moors
Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive
Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings
Of the ram and moans of ewe, where
Way bountiful seas are over spilling,
In octopus and pearly gemmed shells,
The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding,
Where incense burns with under stars
Encased, the lost Atlantean temples
Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels,
The clad forests of wandering Titans,

Where snow white beaches end forever
Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway,
As was the magi gift of treasured yards,
Enlightenments, of old and golden isles
Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs 
Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal,
Galicia.

Woke up with children in my mind, wrote two new,
then stumbled on this...
I give this poem to an orchestra leader I know, who understands better than most, that conducting and being surrounded by many, is oft the loneliest task and who knows best the meaning of
"finally, all synchronized in time and space, on a single continuum, within, without and through."

Thanksgiving Day 2011

Through
the picture window,
watching
restless generations,
multitudinous compilations,
children's backyard runnings,
all about, hide n' seek,
uncoordinated coordination,
well calculated randomness,
perfection in its
discombobulation

Within
my bloodstream,
chemical changes,
blow thru my veins,
direction home,
like leaves,
on a November weekend,
windswept from a thousand directions,
endless energy, noise, and commotion,
results of internal tremblings,
the side effects of satisfactions,
in ways I could only dream of...

Without
knowing, nonetheless,
the knowledge rests within,
footage of future days of
quietude and satisfaction,
recalling earlier simplicities,
records recorded somehow
before it happens,
records recorded now and then,
but only for
future consumption.

Harmonies of times,
well deserved,
to be future spent,
now, finally, all synchronized
in time and space,
on a single continuum,
within, without and through.

They say that Einstein erred,
time cannot outrace gravity,
therefore it cannot be
that I have seen the future.
Yet, I know with
unerring certainty,
these truths
posses the gravity,
that thanks,
I have and
will again,
gave,
and will give

The remainders,
the children,
the net of our gains and losses,
within them,
        my thanks lives,
without them,
        I am lessened,
through them,
        I am whole,

and i can feel you in my nerves and i can see you in my skin and i can't look away from your

your soul is so promising just a hatchling of a chicken i am with my head cut off running loose in the barnyard

barnyard lazy days are what i had and then i saw you and colors everywhere sprockets and gadgets and loose-runnings and shoes

shoes without feet only energy only anticipation exhilaration in our eyes looking feeling touching

touching toes with no shoes on cold toe warm toe is a good sensation a broadening horizon a war zone in my belly

my belly rises and falls in time with yours the sun is up and stars are hiding we slept soundly fingers crossed between the others and then we knew it was

it was everything we read about from old men's minds in starched collars with big dollars who dreamt these things couldn't have them sat in foyers with long pipes smoke filling lungs tears filling eyes

tears filling eyes because i can feel you and

and i can feel you in my nerves and i can see you in my skin and i can't look away from your soul.

We can’t take it back
No we can’t take it back
We’ve been here once before

In the dead of winter
I know it’s not there
As we crawl along searching for what’s gone

The white noise
It’s closing and it’s closing
Evacuate and follow procedure
Another stop, another mistake
Step back and watch it go
In the back most window forlorn

I’ve been chasing cars
Through the runnings of your mind

We’ve been treading unmarked territory
Looking into windows of what was once glory
Settling into the soul stained glass
To tell stories of unidentified faces

.
Beyond the massif peaks of Europa,
Above the ancient pillars of Heracles
Where rain and ocean are weaving,
Lays a fabled kingdom born of waves
And noble strands, my beaten hearts
Haunting, the lost, lush sylvan lands
Of Galicia.
                   Where Incomparable, dark
Haired women, mythic, of Amazonian
Fairness, side the valleys and moors
Of soon forgotten dreams and secretive
Wolves slide amongst warmed runnings
Of the ram and moans of ewe, where
Way bountiful seas are over spilling,
In octopus and pearly gemmed shells,
The scalloped pilgrimages unfolding,
Where incense burns with under stars
Encased, the lost Atlantean temples
Of Egyptian sands and storied Gaels,
The clad forests of wandering Titans,

Where snow white beaches end forever
Unmapped in told footsteps, castaway,
As was the magi gift of treasured yards,
Enlightenments, of old and golden isles
Pearling the coasts, sailing the sweet airs
Crossing Iberian gates, to Elysian, eternal,
Galicia.

It was in wander
   For not lost was she
It was in wonder
   For without sin she led,
The tree bearing sweet fruit
Enticing her
   Forward.
Lust sent a lumber puncture through
her spine.
   Upwards it shot
to the brain, cerebral forms
    into a red beating heart.
It excited her, the
Freedom found in such innocence
    pulsating quivers.
She waited
                  Adam to her Eve
daisy chains falling from her neck
framing a prepubescent chest.
Such tender collar
Bones, hooks temperately fastening
white knotted cotton,
hand sewn dress virginial
White.
Annabelle's life, a melody of
                   melancholic cacophonic
raspers,
from asylums.
Former patients; Briarcliff Manor
residing in her; misery.
Innocent runnings from grave
Dangers of,
                   stark raving madness.
For, today, she wasn't embroiled
                   as Arden's pet.
Instead she was the little girl so born
to be,
before the woman was stolen
bound by a physicians sick
nightmarish reenactments.
For, today she was
Free.
        a starling
                       passionate
                                         darling.

© Sia Jane

Swift winds run through the park, at dusk
Carried on legs of leaves
Temporary, as they blow from the path
Onto the verdant sheet of blades
Laid beside the pavement.

The contestants occasionally collide,
And tiny whirlwinds
Untether their foliage feet from the terrain
As they fall onto the track
Whistling merrily as they bounce upon the ground
And rebounce into their lane
To commence the runnings again.

No pace is kept
And each man is one moment a sprinter
And the next a marathon chaser
The disciplines remain inexorably tangled
In their fleeting eyes.

What I still and will continue to love about your eyes are...

the multitudes of hues and moods embedded within
Gripping abundant roots of attractive backwoods
and memorable fruits beside a glass of sweating beer that is on its way to finding room temperature
To name a short plethora of goods

Not to mention but rhyming about  Emotions that ensue
from a few
all inclusive spring rays shining into branches of oak and cedar needles
painting shadowy sharps on the  
greening blades
cast out under and around them

Summery flares shot between the solar
sparking luminescence

Shutters of blue steam breathing when winter is  looming and when it has come

I don’t even need to mention fall
since I would wager
Mother Nature stole every grade and color
from your visionary pair of awareness
Like a psychedelic alchemist enhancing each wordless life form into artistry
From her droppers of autumn in associated definition
anyone sees when thinking of the 3rd quarter
From trickling infrequency of leaves falling
spread out on course
with all end-of-the-line runnings of any pillow top creek
sweeping across the horizon tiring out in a dry bed of mossy river rock
These are what I still
and
will continue to love about your eyes

and the day will come
when someone will ask  
requesting me
not to write about them again
Opens the arsenal
for the most tragically moving poetic scribblings
leaving their ring
in the dust with her silent questioning
“What in the ****?”
and
The meaninglessness of their dollars spent

She breezed in like a Chevrolet,
drove me out of my mind and
she blew me away.

Sassy and chic
she
redefined sleek.

'how classy the chassis',
said the working class man
who knew of nothing
except the runnings of
his second hand van.


Beauty will always be
running wild
when she's
running free,
but who could detain her,
indeed
who could refrain her
from
putting the
chains around
me.

poems and people striving to be recognized on the mean
streets, here and there,
I wish I could catch their yearning
in a jar like a firefly and light every one
of my nights
up like I used to,
in hot summer wind runnings
and fumblings
when youth and naivete
had my ***** tangled in knots
in my crotch
experience every verb as if I was living it
and touch once again the essence of young spirits,
but comes a day when,
all you can do is say,
go on young love's,
experience
say you'll be there forever
and at the time you feel it,
and you and I did

How many deaths are we allotted, then?
It depends on the strictness of your definition, one supposes,
For it comes in several degrees of fatality and finality,
And most often in fits and starts,
A process by which we offer up limbs,
Bits of heart and soul,
So that we can forestall some disaster
Even more wretched, more unwelcome,
And even if we walk more slowly, more cautiously
As the repeated runnings of the gauntlet exact their toll,
It may not be the implacable onslaught of age
Which roils our sleep and the periphery of our waking hours
As much as the knowledge
That, unlike our multi-epoched feline brethren,
We may not land on our feet
As the unseen hands blithely toss us
Down one more set of stairs
Which lead to the abyss.

An annoying friend sends Tom to be captured in the psych ward


In early April Tom was wanting to be left alone by his mate Danny, who was ringing him up while Tom was trying to enjoy the football, which Danny doesn’t like very much, in fact Danny kept on telling Tom that these football players get involved in dealing drugs
Getting drunk and doing one punch attacks on people and all that talk about all that sent Tom to want some me time at the football but Danny kept on ringing him up as he was trying to enjoy the match and Tom didn’t answer it knowing it will be a lot of totally negative chatter about things he doesn’t want to hear, and he rang Tom 8 times where Tom doesn’t answer because he was trying to watch the footy so after the 8 unanswered calls Danny rang tom’s parents who were in their 70s and wanted to relax and they didn’t need Danny ringing them especially when Tom was just watching a footy game getting his me time but Tom was stressed since then and wanted to escape his life because people kept on annoying him and his parents seemed to agree with Danny more than him which every time Tom talked with his parents since they said you have to be a better friend and talk to him, they were sort of saying that they are getting too old to have friends worry about their son when their son is just having a bit of me time and Tom said to Danny that he went to the footy and enjoyed it and then after they spoke Tom became psychotic in ways where people complained about his behaviour and sent the police to his house but all Tom wanted was a bit of peace and quiet from the discipline of his father and the annoyance of his friend Danny but this wasn’t going to be easy as the police brought Tom to Ron’s psych ward and Ron gave him a brain scan to see if they can find what is making him psychotic and Tom couldn’t watch the footy because a bikie wanted to watch a movie called top gun and Tom yelled out WHY!!!! And the other patients of Ron’s psych ward were teasing Tom because he chose to be ****** than going on a holiday and Tom told Ron his whole story and Ron put him on some new drugs called eppelim and serenace which calmed Tom down but occasionally made Tom talk about his previous lives in which the doctors didn’t believe and the doctors wanted to keep him there till he realises that this isn’t the place to say it, but Tom really believed what he was saying and yelled WHY don’t these people believe me and he went to his room and drew pictures and write stories and he wrote and wrote till his hand was nearly bone and the doctors were trying to make Tom understand that his beliefs about his previous lives aren’t true but Tom yelled saying it is my belief, and you have to respect me and then the next Day Tom watched cool runnings with the bikie but couldn’t tell to the bikie because he was a ****** so he just watched the movie with him silently but after a while the doctors felt sorry for Tom as he was trying to find ways to relax and they wanted to send him to the other psych ward on the other side of town because Ron said he was just wanting to settle down after his creativity and after he left ron’s psych ward he moved to the other ward and the patients said the geek has left us
He has left us yeah and after 3 weeks in that psych ward Tom was released and sent back into society where he had to put up with his annoying mate Danny and then he rang him saying I am out now, but nothing changed, Tom was still wanting to get heaps of me time and he wanted Danny to respect that but Danny still was talking in a negative way to him which made Tom upset and Tom said I don’t like you anymore you are too negative for me, I just want to live a carefree life and Tom still wanted to ring him but then the forces of the cosmos broke his phone which split Tom and Danny up forever and now Tom is still watching sport and Danny his still very negative and Tom didn’t want the negativity in his life anymore while Tom met with Ron once a week to talk about what they have to do to keep him out of his psych ward

I bleed the color black
ashy like cinder covered hands
with fingers that drip with runnings beads of sweat
my talons grip my fledglings

I embrace them to my chest
and let them hear the chronic drumbeats
between my *******,
the serenading chaos, that are my heartbeats

I want them to be like me, let them be like me
with proud hearts and swelling minds
And broad shoulders rising like hills and
heads held high atop mountains

I want to make love to them
when my reflection I see in them,
in the creases of their foreheads
and their smirking lips

in the dips of their spines
and the curves of their hips
In their eyes, where the seed of their sin
And their guilt lie hidden

Concealed under colors of shame
Where tears masquerade a dance of pity
A facet of victimhood to pierce blame,
onto someone else

It was my fault, I admit it
I devoured my children, slowly and surely
Left them weak wills and hollow sentiment
Left them doubts and lies and half truths

Let them think that arrogance meant rewards
And violence, an act of love, an act of care
that living was winning and losing was dying
that fear, and vanity, and death were the only constants

I wanted them to be like me, let them be like me
with black hearts and sorrowful minds
And narrow shoulders and
Foreheads kissing the ground

After hectic waters have shoved this small vessel
to and fro
Here he relaxes
By the dock....To enjoy the calm , sunny days
with his crew who needed such relaxing moments,so.
Deeply to dance with girls they had  met at a local dance club
This captain shines his metals and joins the festivities
For his voyages are planned..
To reach the promised lands...
For him and his crew....
Of creativity, unity, and Eternity
As true sailors on Life's Rough Seas of Those
Misguided moments
Running into the icebergs of the misunderstandings..
The calm waters of tropical smooth runnings and relaxing pictures
Nights spent dreaming, sleeping, or sharing a drink and reminiscing..
No longer shall his inner storms leave him wrecked on some deserted island..
He keeps near his support
However, he adventures , at times, on his own.
He keeps his routes simple
However, his dreams are destinations enjoyed with his crew
A complex ending to a map written by his comrades
Smiling
He has fewer nights..reading such self written maps in the dark...
and He has rarely a reason to get Angry over Over-Though Mistakes
and evenings feeling sorry for himself...
Ship docked..
Wallowing in pity In dreary parks.
Keeping this wisdom not only his friends and acquaintances of wisdom shared with him
But, his lessons learned and newly found Wsidom
He know rules the sea with many.
Than a sailfish land of nearly nothing...this is not his destination..
However, a land of true fulfilled promises, something for everybody,
and such for himself....
A true kingdom.