Surcease

Carry on a conversation with your mind,
attempt to divine the truth of your situation,
the proof of the station in life
you’ve chosen to occupy.

Remove the sties from your eyes,
bear witness to your own weakness,
minimize your strengths to find balance,
become the prince or princess of the realm,
partaking of the sacred chalice.

Find balance in denial,
the power of self-control
announcing your arrival
at the alter of spirit’s revival
as body colludes with mind
and space conspires with time.

Destiny calls us all
and we grovel before the fall
yet and still we rise
despite the challenges
despite our cries
despite our insistence upon
believe the lies
we tell ourselves.

Continuing that conversation
we are overcome by revelation.

The voices in your mind, slowly cease.

Instead, you are filled with peace.

Surcease.

Manhood Rites

Ancient rites of manhood, virility unbound,
the echoing sound of trembling ground,
bass roar of the crowd soaring into glory,
brilliant skies wide consuming the passion released,
reverberating from deep inside.

The Coliseum shakes, Gladiators bake upon sands
soaked with blood, sweat and tears, the atmosphere
thick with the scent of fear, adrenalin pounding
aggression sounding like soprano songs of
encouragement.

Weapons glinting in the sun,
jewelry glittering in the stands,
the bands boom bass and airy refrains
blunted by the sand, man against man.

Media moguls banter, skyboxes and box seats planted
around the heights, the sights digitally delineated,
fated for eternal broadcast, electromagnetic signals of
multi-colored stallions brilliantly bedecked, prancing
upon courts of gold, bodies sold to the highest bidder,
commercials and riches promised to the winner.

Balls have replaced the swords, but the crowd ever
has the last word, ancient rituals reborn yet never passed,
the same inner turmoil released like stale gas,
societal controls pacify the masses.

Food, money and sex,
the parameters of the worldly test,
distracting the distractable from the intractable
issues of the day,
earthquakes and wars,
peonage and closed doors,
unequal wealth accumulation and slavery,
drudgery and promised damnation
trumps bravery.

Modern rites of manhood, virility remixed,
become blissful ignorance and sensual satiation,
the digital revelation yet another dream,
revolution televised on wide-screen
each moment captured by cam-phone streams,
endlessly clicking through albums
of forgotten scenes.

You

Your silence sounds like
waves on the ocean of creation

Your distance breaths like
lovers lost in each others eyes

Your pain aches
like mountains crushed beneath oceans of air

Your laughter shimmers like
bubbles frothing upon pearly waves

Your voice penetrates like
sunlight diving through oceans of thought

Your love lives in me
like stars lost in galactic fields

searching for a way home.

Proof of Life

“My soul has grown deep like a river”,
believers gather upon the shores,
intoning beatitudes collected from tomes of bone,
weary soldiers home from bloody wars,
ancient Griot tales invoke stupendous spells
designed to free the mind,
and release the body, from time.

The power of collective thought,
collective words soar free like birds,
collective action and the redaction of individuality
in favor of collective impact foreshadow
the act of true defiance and revolution,
non-participation the only real solution.

But that freeze is too deep for the frozen,
those stuck like zombies in the system,
their mission being only surviving from day to day,
they’ve no time to think or consider another way,
the interplay of considerations too foreign,
the deeper implications of systemic co-optation
too boring when Reality TV is online
and they still think their digital receivers are benign.

An electromagnetic sea immerses we,
freedom only a distant dream when emotions are programmed
like computer drives and the means of control are invisible
to the naked eye.

Who believes the prophets when “God is dead”,
someone said?

Their words of wisdom dismissed, their holy mission
misread, personas reconfigured as conspiracy theorizing
Manchurian candidates listed by alphabet agencies as
vagaries of democratic freedom unbound,
codified and denied the reality of cultural and
political relevance.

This dance of obscured meaning amounts to
a steaming pile of refuse.

The Truth exists beyond proof. Beyond belief.

Discount the times if you will, the world still turns,
and the myriad ways of denying the days are getting fewer
and more difficult to countenance as
the devastation we call modern civilization
continues to desecrate the earth,
the place and space of Terran humanity’s birth.

This is the “desert of the real”, there is only time
to chill, the damage has been done.

No remediation, no saving the oceans, the animals,
global warming is a done deal unless the technology
of the future is released.

Just breath.

The question then becomes, which pill will you take?

The red or the blue, will you face
what is coming and accept your just due?

Or do you, like so many others, require
further proof?

Karmic Tender

Waste not the day,
the Way pays it forward,
karmic tender proffered
demoralized prophets buffered
by angelic hordes,
deplorable desecrations of nations
the evolution of civilization.

The Tao initiates bows
by the uninitated to those they deem
supreme,
genuflecting subjecting the Enlightened
to the worship of the unredeemed.

Seize moments in time,
life can never rewind,
reminding us of past moments sublime
sepia-toned remembrances
of street lights and picket fences,
innocent youth spent in unconscious exploration,
the commemoration of moments
the payoff of karmic debt foments.

Living in the Now frees
tortured souls to be despite the limitations
of their stations,
the documentation of genetic relations
the endless recycling of
instantaneous creation.

Time continues its remorseless dance
the days whirl, twirl, dip then prance
across the stage of spatial manifestation,
our honored relations observing
from beyond
as the Angels chime in with
heavenly song.

Angel Tears

Is this love, this low-level warfare of souls,
the higher dimensional fanfare of Oneness
the forgotten goal,
lost amidst the trials and tribulations of
daily life,
forgotten within the traumas and painful
episodes of daily strife.

When do we find the truth of things,
written in the stars as etheric bells do ring,
the angels watching over us
tears softly falling
their heavenly songs to sing,
as days pass by and time’s
pendulum continues to swing?

Trouble, trouble casts our days
as thunderous storms roll through
and we refuse to change our ways,
denying the quirks that others see
so clear,
while proclaiming righteousness
in words and actions
unaware that judgement is near.

Who loves so truly
that they know who they are,
intimately aware of their foibles and
issues, self-knowledge as close to
lived reality as the most distant
of stars?

As the brightness intensifies
and the world itself transforms
some choose ever to densify
to double-down on the norm
refuse to see the defamation
of their own spirits,
the sublimation of higher merit
hoisting dysfunction like a trophy
while soul’s urge continues to
flow free denied expression
day to day,
as love’s full vision continues
to play.

Somewhere distant,
beyond our ken.

Those angelic tears are falling,
once again.

Distant Rumblings

Distant rumbling beckons awareness
solar storms awaken the earth.

Gaia’s skin shifts, tectonic forces remorseless
absorbing the love of Sol, fierce and true.

Electromagnetic emanations bath the world,
emotional currents flow through.

Terran humanity oblivious to the ramifications
as the planet below does sing.

Her heart and soul scintillating brightly
her dance so pure and filled with grace.

Civilizations fall as the world heats quickly
Oceanic consciousness prepared for change.