"seacoast" poems
Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend
5 years ago - other furies other losses -
America's
trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice
The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind
I'm
all thru playing the American
Now I'm going to live a good quiet life
The
world should be built for foot walkers
Oily
rivers Of spiney Nevady
I
am Jake Cake
Rake
Write like Blake
The
horse is not pleased Sight of his
gorgeous finery
in the dust Its silken
nostrils
did disgust
Cats
arent kind Kiddies anent sweet
April
in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties
In fields
of straw
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs
In wild headdress Pouring thru
the gap
In Wyoming plain
To make the settlers
Eat more dust than dust
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful
Plains
Of clazer vup
Saltry
settlers
Anxious to ********** The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne -
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)
9.1k
I cherish my freedom
Hard earned though it was
Through the abolitionist railway
And those who supported the cause
An African slave,
though free upon birth
I was sold as a slave
And was now bound to the earth
Run for the caves boy
Run for the caves
Run for your freedom
Or die here a slave
Run for the caves boy
Run for the caves
Run for your freedom
Or die here a slave
Late in the dark
I heard of the routes
To the new land of freedom
I was resolute
I would run for my life
Leave my family behind
I would run for the caves
And the new life I'd find
Bound to plantation
I was just something to trade
I would run for my freedom
The decision was made
From South Carolina
I'd head to the coast
I'd run for my freedom
I'd then be a ghost
Follow the signs
That was all that I heard
They know you are coming
Just remember the word
Stray from the darkness
A dead slave you will be
With the last thought you'll have
That you'll never die free
Boats on the seacoast
Up to Salem they sail
Look for the sign
And remember the trail
Make for the caves
They'll find you where
The water is highest
They'll come get you there
From there up to Salem
And one more step to go
Stick with the railroad
The way that they know
Make way when the moon
Is down low in the sky
If you're found in the meantime
It's a fact you will die
Freedom is costly
But, it is within reach
Make for the caves
At the north end of the beach
From New England go on
to the north or the west
Both spell out freedom
The end of your quest
Don't look over your shoulder
just follow the signs
They know you are coming
stay deep in the pines
Remember all those
Who have made Freeman Cave
Follow their symbols
And don't die a slave
There are people who will
Help you free from the strife
But, for now find the caves
And son, run for your life....
Run for the caves boy
Run for the caves
Run for your freedom
Or die here a slave
Run for the caves boy
Run for the caves
Run for your freedom
Or die here a slave
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
*
After walking in a desert
Under the burning sun
With scorching heat
That peels the skin
As if one finds
An oasis in desert
As if one finds coolness
Of a GRAND Banyan TREE
As if one finds peace
Under a Bodh-Gaya Tree
*Such is the happiness & bliss
I feel inside my heart & being
The day I realized your
LOVE-SOUL-connect
That's the time...
I completely surrendered
Myself in/to your LOVE...*
~~~~~~~
My mind had so many questions
My life was just
An aimless wander-lust
I was not getting anywhere...
I was seeking an anchor of LOVE
As if a canoe is fighting
A ravaging battle with
Surging oceanic waves and
Unable to sail to a shore
As if some sparkling-stars
In the dark-sky
Showed the direction
To the floundering boat
Towards a safe seacoast
*Such is the happiness & bliss
I feel inside my heart & being
The day I realized your
LOVE-SOUL-connect
That's the time...
I completely surrendered
Myself in/to your LOVE...*
~~~~~~~
As the pitch dark nights becomes
Illuminated by your full-moon-shine
As if a thirst of desert
Since a millennium years
Receives dew drop messages of
Upcoming downpour of thunderstorm
*Such is the happiness & bliss
I feel inside my heart & being
The day I realized your
LOVE-SOUL-connect
And when
I completely surrendered
Myself to your LOVE...*
~~~~~~
I only walk on the path
That is leading me to YOUR SOUL
At all times....
In seasons of springs,
When flowers blossoms
In walks across thorns
During autumn leaves
In summers or winters
Over fires, over valleys
Without faltering or straying
From your LOVE course-call
To the one who was thirsty
For a single drop of water
As if
Destiny gave Divine nectar
To one's heart's content
To live & survive for Eternity
*Such is the happiness & bliss
I feel inside my heart & being
The day I realized your
LOVE-SOUL-connect
And when
I completely surrendered
Myself to your LOVE...*
~~~~~~~
*
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
You visit this place
You do not stay long
There’s nothing here
that speaks of settlement
Everything you do has an edge
of intensity wet by the weather
sharpened by the clock
If you try to be still
in what passes for shelter
the wind will find you
seek you out
So with the camera your primary tool
begin to collect - image after image after image
Point and click : view and share
Eventually the mark-making begins
though fraught with difficulty
it seems just hopeless this testing out
of the body’s response to what passes
before the scanning eye
Blink
and the image shifts
There is this fierce and on-going campaign
between the near : between the far
What lies at your feet : what decorates the horizon.
After a few hours wrapped round in nature’s vortex
the eye and brain are exhausted by the profusion of it all
wearied by the press of wind, the touch of rain, the glare of sun
Always the problem of what you do
with what you’ve seen
and touched with cold hands
pulling out metal objects from the sand
whose rusted and distressed forms
will lie exposed on the studio table
The place marks you Rain and wind on the face
raise new freckles there’s a salty veneer to the skin
the rub of sand : a wash of seawater
the grasp of pebbles : wood’s chiromatic grain
The lexicon of texture expands under your fingers
changes of temperature : degrees of saturation
and further uncompromising perspectives
unimaginable yet in two dimensions
Beyond beachcombing this is seacoast surgery
Away from it all (and out of the wind)
your memory stretches to the corners of recall
Wandering through a home-centred day
as in a waking dream
knowing you’ve already gathered
all manner of sensory matter
held and stored in the pineal gland
flowing free in Meissner’s corpuscles
Even absorbed in conversation’s company
as you turn away to fill the kettle
you are on the beach back in the wind
scanning the memory tin : priming the future.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
Slow Comber from the Seacoast
Where I'd Frowst
I'm the Branch in your Rain Coat
from Pillar to Post
Up and Up I fly and fly
Turning a Blind Eye
I'm the Fermium Butterfly
In the Calcified Night
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC