Garden of Heavenly Delight

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Garden, Peace, Seeds, Sunshine, Tranquility

So many drum beats in our heads echo with such strife; earth is also garden filled with heavenly delights.

We cling to our supports as we climb our way through life;  each must do our best in bringing beauty forth from light.

Tranquil yogis may see earth within a grain of sand; each day brings hope that I too shall be a peace filled man.

The earth grounds our feelings, giving us the base we need; rain cleanses and sustains our lives, transforms sprout from seed.

I have been blessed with sunshine, earth and water indeed; all  things are here to make lovely garden from small seeds.

Birthday Remembrance: B.J.P.R., D.O.B. 06/25/75

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Birthday remembrance

Two score or not quite two score that is the chant you see, either way you look at it you’re catching up with me. Though our age difference remains cast in amber, at just more than fourteen years, as a percentage of inequality you are drawing nearer. “You’re as young as you feel” is the rant obscene; but though we know it’s not true we’ll try to stay serene.
Our hearts have finite tickings, like a well wound cuckoo clock, but it is not the sum of our heart’s beats that measure what we’ve got. It is our ability to embrace life, and to hold close the ones that we find dear, that make us slow the sands of time and keep our balance book out of arears.
I’ve glanced at your ledgers, and then I did peruse, for seldom have I ever seen a book so in the black. You cast bread upon the waters, with your loving ways, and all that you have handed out as love comes flowing back. We each have opportunity to spread love, some motivation and some means, you have hit trifecta with your spirit and your dreams. It is a privilege to know you, I pray someday we’ll play some more, but I’m sending one million birthday loves to you and then I’ll add one more.
Happy birthday!

Language of Lies

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Anger, Dictatorship, Gospel Truth, Hatred, Impartiality of Science, Language as Restrictive Force, Lies, Misogyny, Parochialism, Slavery, Universal Truth

It fascinates how language shapes us, controls the very way in which we think, gives credence to such lies and leaves truth spurting blood-red ink.
The term “Gospel Truth” offends me as it implies we know so much more than we truly do, there is no funnel from the mouth of god to bring perfect truth to you.
We can only see with the eyes that we have trained up from the moment of our birth, no universal human laws can provide us with holy worth.

We are miserable little children who fight one another for control, destroying those that refuse to bow before us is in our arrogance untold.
If we think we know the answer because god revealed it to us in a dream, that our holy, revered ancestor has the final say supreme, that in our position of all-knowing we can judge both life and death, then I submit we are the problem, if we think we have that right.
It is the most miserable among us who cannot accept the songs that others sing, the evil, prattling dictator that puts in our noses chattel slave’s rings.

There are no easy answers, and what we think we know we don’t. Until we rise above our certainty the healing we need to find we won’t.
It is not only religious texts that look to blind with false precepts. The arrogant lie of the impartiality of science is a blaspheme on the altar that western man projects.
I tire of the fighting, those who with a wink lie in the name of truth, the arrogance of misogyny, the exploitation of our youth.

I usually am quite sanguine concerning the stupidity of man but today I see the hour glass’ sands running out and it makes me want to shout.
Shout at us all for our lack of vision, for the hate we feel within, for our certainty that if I just subdue you then truth will surely win.

We need to find a language that frees us from our hate, a way to view the world with truth, beauty and freedom before it is too late.
We are all such tiny creatures, there is no getting over that, I just wish that we’d stop hating one other and at least sit down to chat.

Birthday remembrance J.R.H., D.O.B 06/29/94

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Birthday remembrance

Your eyes they hold such sparkle, looking at them is like sipping champagne, your mere presence can mesmerize and befuddle my so easily addled brain.
You are lovely on the outside, for you that’s as easy as it’s true, but it is what’s on the inside that makes the special you.
As you try to walk in sunshine, and bring light to other’s lives, know that your mere presence brings to so many such delight.
I wish for you a year of roses, and the exciting thundering of hooves, embrace your life’s adventures and keep striving to improve.
Happy birthday, Jacque!

Stupidity We Call Sin

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Anger At Mortality, Forgiveness, Hatred, Injustice, Pettiness, Trespass

Do you ever scream in anger at the stupidity we call sin? Do your fists flash out of their own accord, a tool of beast within? Men rail against time’s injustice but against it can do nothing more, yet man’s inhumanity to each other is sin we must abhor. In living do we deal in truth and kindness or do we steal and lie? Will we recognize the power within or merely wilt and die?

As youths we think to live forever and believe that we just might, but as death leers with evil grin we soon cower in our fright. No matter how each plays his hand we’ll surely end up in defeat, we create sweet lies to comfort self before we’re buried in the deep. In our anger at mortality we sit and curse the night, but when we live life honestly we may ignite a holy light

Denial of our anger seems naught but whistles in the dark: I long to dis-spell the power of injustice; suffocate its spark. We are imperfect dreamers, vessels made of rough thrown earthen clay; dare we rise above our pettiness and on the weak no longer prey? Or are we stuck in clinging mire, our wheels spinning in oozing mud? Can we honor all in our living; put sweet love ahead of blood?

For at the end of living we all shall rot deep in the dark, and the treasure that we are gleaning no pleasure will it impart. I have no answer for the anger that walks with us to life’s end; I know to keep my fists down as on this trek I try to ascend. On each day from flawed beginnings I set forth with mortal heart. Forgive me, friends my trespasses as I struggle in my part.

Fragile Threads

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After Life, Anger, Death, Depression, Futility, Grief, Lack Of Faith, Lenore Tierney, Loss, Melancholy, Mourning, Sadness

So fragile the silken spinneret threads which bind to time and place.
Once unraveled so easily we spiral slowly off to space.
The ties that hold us to our world are quite gossamer indeed.
Mercilessly severed are the binding webs with lightning speed.
The bedrock of our foundation, the kinship that is real,
Disintegrates into dust; knocking us back on our heals.
Death of a dear loved one leaves us spinning, drained and pale;
Searching for meaning our reason flails to no avail.
Why is there so much suffering to gentle souls?
We long to know Almighty’s plan as it unfolds.
Meaningless platitudes offered as a balm,
Gives us dead, cold, comfort as we stand by tombs.
“There is an occasion for everything:”
To ease loss’ pain we do naught but sing.
Each of us shall share the same cold fate,
Will our own end time come soon or late?
Broken heart’s pieces never mend;
Too late now our lives to amend.
Tearing hair, gnashing of teeth:
Gestures that bring no relief.
All has drifted away.
Death surely now holds sway.
In cold ground we lie.
Rebirth: Truth, or lie?
Why even try?
Suffer then die.
Death’s last kiss.
Lives amiss
Lifeless
Empty
You
All

.

.

Iago’s Sibilant Sedition

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Fear, Foolish Heart, Jealousy, Lack of Trust, Redemption, Self-Doubt, Trust

A sibilant serpent’s tongue set spinning a poisonous thought straight to my head. Bold knights attend my princess who’s adorned in a gown of sheerest silken thread.

These knights in such eager anticipation stood at attention by her side,
each anticipating an evening’s pleasure they hoped would end with mounted ride.

My mind reeled in horrid fixation at the vision the forked tongued serpent drew. Though she’s proven her worth these thirty years Dante’s grotesque vision still it grew.

I struggled to cast off these dispersions as so unworthy of one like she;
my tranquil mind knew otherwise but the damning presence still it haunted me.

I could not displace the vision of her sailing with a powerful coxswain,
she in his arms with moist lips, steady gaze and flowing hair circled in my brain.

My fists flashed out in fury at walls, doors and cups as impotently they struck. My torment lay not in her but in insipid covetousness run amok.

Breaking trinkets fueled jealousy’s heat and now upon self I began to beat, self-flagellation in word and deed gave expression to reason in retreat.

Reason alone proved impotent to quench this evil, consuming, hot fire.
I’d need to exorcise the demon who had placed our love on funeral’s pyre.

This task it was not easy as my vision was clouded all with hottest red
but slowly remembered caresses turned the demon’s message on its head.

I again relived shared battles where my princess’ strength of character shone bright and returned to our long ago beginning when our strong love it first took flight.

As quickly as the cancer of sick jealousy struck me now it is excised my noble warrior Princess’ power, strength and might has caused its right demise.

As I walked by a mirror my eye caught a frail, weak, myopic green-eyed man, a creature that lives in shadow that should be banished from civilized lands.

I fell to my knees in horrid shame as I saw the it that I’d now become.
How tiny is the soul that doubts the beauty of love that’s had a lifelong run?

I am a simple aging poet whose eye looks at things that simply are not.
Creating tempests in teacups I stir emotions till they soon run riot.

Finally, I rose from my mendicant genuflection subdued and refreshed:
Knowing that simple trust in my sweet and gracious love could have spared me this test.

 

Baile de Suenos

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Dreaming of a Better World, Equality, Freedom, Harmony, Justice, Love, Peace, Respect

Last night I was transported to a place outside of time; I found myself escorted to a pair who knew that love’s divine. I watched in awestruck amazement as the two began a dance. Their strong lithe bodies lifted upward as I looked on entranced.

Their beauty so transcendent,  ran far deeper than flesh and skin, eyes locked on each other, their gaze a testament to strength within. The dance spoke to me of forever, both now and long ago. The swayed with gentle rhythm as they danced lovingly to and fro.

They continued climbing higher; in rapport both deep and true: Love’s spire they ascended; vertiginous height in sky of blue. As from the earth I looked on fluid forms seemed to coalesce! Then from their sweet blessed union a new form did make egress. The offspring that emerged quickly formed into a new man, he too began the trek ever upward in keeping with the dance.

I saw this feat repeated by many couples in the stars, each generation lifted upwards by gods Venus and Mars. The warriors all had beaten bloodied swords into plowshares, no longer was the call for peace naught more than fancied prayer.

The dancing, swirling couples and their progeny so sweet, instead of warring factions worked together in great peace. Loving couples at spire’s base raised arms supporting those above; each succeeding generation received olive branch and dove. These gifts were given freely to all, they were not hoarded niggardly: The dancers understood that while one is chained then none are free.

So the youngsters that emerged from the dancers of the past were embraced by all the world without regard to ancestry nor caste. And these dancing children who were cherished by the world with love grew strong and sure and felt secure in the peace that reigns from above.

To my knees I fell in wonder, my world turned upside down. “Is it possible,” asked I, “to have justice all around?” My escort smiled patiently and gestured to the dancers’ spire, at that moment I realized we have power to reach higher. The petty, vicious, back bites are maladies that we create. We need only start the healing to merge earth and heaven’s gate.

Could every child grow in freedom from poverty and want: By abandoning hatred change from idiots to savants?

In the morning I awakened and heaved a heavy sigh. I pray my dream’s portentous and we see evil all run dry.

Nightshade of the Heart

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Loneliness, Love Poem, Melancholy, Missing My Love, Patricia T. Kenel, Waiting For Love's Return

The poison that is nightshade slumbered stealthily in my heart; its deadly fragrance captured me when my love she did depart. My angel flew across the ocean, she is in a far off land, I arise as pitiful fool; reduced to melancholy man.

Nightshade’s sucking tendrils stabbed into my sleeping heart last night: Powerless as impotent shorn Sampson am I when she takes flight. The blind fools say I lack true manhood because I need her so, to them I am an empty shell who lost his self worth long ago. In weakness I love so deeply that sans her I do naught but weep; The power she has over me is love’s magic running deep.

So I’ll pine while she is far from me and of her I shall dream; when we reunite my dull, gray, solo world once more shall gleam.

 

The Grande Dame Departs

Tags

A Lovely Lady In Hospice, Departures, End of Life, Lenore Tierney

The last curving rays of sunlight shone with umber’s delight; our Grande Dame sat quietly and waited for full night.

“I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she said with trembling voice.

“Nonsense!” I retorted. “We’ve barely finished our first course!”

“No, for me the meal is ended,” she whispered with a smile. “I really must be going, though it’s been a lovely idyll.”

“Leaving my tea so early? Why, whatever will the neighbors say!? I’d hoped you’d stay eternally, not just an hour here today.”

“Oh, sometimes you dream such nonsense!” She said with softening grin. “The hour is upon us! See how the day has grown quite thin?”

“Perchance, could I?” I stumbled, not knowing next what card to play.

Grande Dame’s smile turned to coldest ice, “Come with me, were you to say? No, your time is not this moment; don’t spoil our last tea. Just sit and hold my hand, dear.”

I complied with her final wish as she silently slipped away from me.