the consumed moon
haunts his grey life
stirring yellow dreams
of soured sorrow
stealing his solitude’s wish
of a soul’s peace
yet he will not despair
even trapped in torment
as in the skulls of saints
persecuted for their truth
he will hold her love sacred
lidded ‘neath his heart’s brow
secreted like a palmed rose
he will never forget
The Sloan Digital Sky Survey (SDSS) have published a comprehensive analysis of this largest three-dimensional map of the Universe ever created, revealing that six billion years ago, the expansion of the Universe began to accelerate. Bigger Bang!I
The Universe
~
lightless void
soundless vacuum
molten cores
mingled gasses
hurtling shards
black holes
plasma rain
liquid lightning
revolving orbs
in evolving orbit
with beings aboard
attractions — repulsions
magnetized masses
in precarious fragility
inconceivable
ever expanding
frozen dance of chaos
on the tentative edge
of balance
“Liquid Lighting” — A bit of poetic license, drawn from the fact that recent studies indicate that ice, hail, and semi-frozen water drops known as graupel are essential to the creation of lightning anywhere in the universe such conditions exist
yes, I know you know the movie sucked
you can blame that on Bombalurina
but did you have to put all of us
on the blackball don’t hire list
I would like to at least hope
we have a few lives left
in our film careers
I mean damn
her fault
hers *
*
Stand of Oregon old growth.
Oregon Lakeshore Trail #656, at Inlet Creek.
Indescribable
~
my footfalls
drum the root chambers
of the old growth
each step
cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
deep in this ancient forest
enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I’ve ringed a portion
of the cerulean mountain lake
my crooked walking stick
smooth in my right hand
rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
dappled emerald in scattered sunlight
I crest a knoll
by the restless azure brook
and stop
mesmerized
as before
I have reached my wonderland
filtered by the towering woodland canopy
light drifts down dreamlike
settles golden
into the natural cathedral before me
were it a manmade cathedral
or a grande ballroom
truly gorgeous
might describe it
but this is so much more
breathtaking
falls short
even magnificent
feels wanting
a cool lake breeze
enfolds me
filled with the heady scent
of the living earth
cascade red cedar
douglas fir
ponderosa pine
moss
fern
bark
loam
wildflower
ionized mountain air
intoxicated
I grow very still
listening
breathing
I become this moment
rapt
in touch with my soul
with the eternal
I’m transcendent
this is — paradise
Mt Hood seen from Oregon Lakeshore Trail #656 just before old growth stand.
This is the natural gateway on Trail #656 opening on the old growth stand.
Both well over 200 feet tall, and hundreds of years old.
1/2 mile ahead you leave the path, wandering into the heart of the giants!
mighty sentinels
guardians of the old growth
may ever you stand
Why is Seth Wheeler not famous and revered? Why do we not celebrate his outstanding contribution to the world? Why is his accomplishment not taught in schools, as part of the fabric of our nation?
We all know the name of Thomas Edison. Though, in current time, we’ve learned Nicola Tesla is the man who actually fathered the AC electric current, which now powers the world. But, the names of these two men glow brightly through history. And Henry Ford, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs — we know these men because they made our lives easier, more comfortable.
Poor Seth, uncelebrated. People have fought in the streets over his invention! Yet, he’s essentially unknown. Undoubtedly, we look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of time. Like he’s been wiped from history. Sad! After all, he invented rolled and perforated toilet paper!
the moon sets in pre-dawn’s soft glow
as comes the fire of day’s first light
carried confidently by the lantern bearer
to chase ashened dreams and welcome morn
morn’s a feeling
a wonderful healing
the sunlight revealing
all darkness was stealing
from our sight
from our heart
in this night
dawn is a feeling
a wonderful healing
the sunlight revealing
all darkness was stealing
from our sight
from our heart
.rtk.
Got inspired by Louise Glück’s poems about Dawn.
Took the word dawn, did the Google thing — ended up here.
Dawn – Two Looks
~
Personal
when the fire of love
flickers and dies
a shadow falls
in empty eyes
words of love
become but lies
that open door
of a tender heart
has quietly closed
‘round the fragile part
what once so sweetly natural
no longer feels quite right
the drift and fall so unseen
as but the passing of night
until one morning no dawn breaks
no tenderness nor warmth awakes
a loneliness encircles slow
you seek the one that you’ve loved so
you search their face in the predawn glow
whose eyes these are
you no longer know
~ ~
Societal
I gaze
through gossamer curtain’s fall
at a dark waking dream
hallucination
of a polarized reality
dual worlds
close enough to touch
through which truth
stumbles blind
beyond reach
walking as a wraith
moving in these worlds
captive to the bonedeep lie
implicit in the toxic grin
of inflexible conformity
lethal tradition
revered in mindless trance
change
shackled cold
to the stone of fear
change
bound
with a grip
rough as rope
at the shadowed edge
of dark and light
ignorance and knowledge
change
so far to go
so much to learn
rise from this night
beckon the dawn
someone needs
release the light
Sorry for this interruption. Feel free to ignore this section and move directly down to the poem, if you choose. The poem is much more sensual and dreamy. This first section is cold, no-filtered, stark reality — fully and sincerely expressed, as I see it. You see, I need to sum up my final, perhaps controversial thoughts, on the issue of protest, introduced here last Thursday. I have been slowly simmering since then: Love MUST win. My proud hippie soul tells me it can — it must for earth, and her human tribe to flourish. As naive and pollyanna as this may sound, I haven’t lived nearly 74 years believing that peace, love, and intelligence will find a way — to simply stand by and see these qualities of integrity snd dignity trampled beneath the feet of humankind’s baser instincts. Perhaps good people have turned the other cheek for too long. Maybe being passively resigned to the perpetraters of evil is not the way. Perhaps it requires an extreme natural culling of the tribe to remove the evil, the result of the arrogant stupidity of that group. Whether I should revel in that possibility is something my peaceful self has been truly struggling with the past few years — since the extinguishing of the Obama light. It goes against my nature. But the continuing greedy, destructive, and heartless ways must end, or perhaps be brought to an end. At my age and health, I, and most of my Aquarian generation, can’t, or won’t, effectively mount the resistance. We lack the stamina or money, or both. Too many among my generation, who may be capable, have lost the vision — turned during the mine-me-first Reagan 80’s, and the grab-fest in the years that followed. I feel we need responsible, strong young leaders to organize on a large scale, activate on a broad scale. It breaks my heart to say it — but me and my generation, we failed. Those who are coming after us, can’t afford to — or humankind and this great spaceship earth, truly are fucked! The power can belong to the young — take it, and wield it wisely! Sorry if I shocked or offended. Just the honest humble opinion of a tired old man. Not too tired to *** VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! ***
========================
And now {{{deep breath}}} time for the poetic entertainment:
***
…inspired by the Kate Bush video, “The Sensual World”…
This is a 2nd revision of my original 2012 version.
That Velvet
~
would I were that velvet
that she reaches for so fondly
strokes with delicate pure fingers
with soft silken hands she lingers
embraces to her bosom
wraps ’round her slender shoulders
tingles with excitement
as she surrenders to its touch
would I were that velvet
that drapes her lilting essence
that falls and folds and fondles
as she ascends the stairs each night
the plush and luscious fiber
that rises on her breasts
with each soft and subtle sigh
each deep impassioned breath
oh would I were that velvet
that glides her naked form
on those sunset autumn evenings
enwraps her perfect body warm
that chills and thrills in shivers
as she opens it ‘neath moonlight
and swoons hushed smouldered gasps
as she blooms forth firm and pleasured
oh would I were that velvet
would I were that velvet
oh sweet sensuous angel
would I were
would I were
In this moonlit forest, autumn shimmers bright and crisp, through the boughs of old growth, like a wisp of star clusters. Softly it sweeps our high-mountain meadow in a dazzling down.
This night falls brisk, quiet as a whisper, when a great white owl echoes through the frosted cedars. Lover and beloved, entwined ‘neath midnight’s window, we sigh, enchanted by this lullaby floating on the freshening breeze.
In warm embrace we muse, until with dreams, we drift into a gentle slumber, aloft in wonder, unmoored of time and place. We breathe deeply this lover’s nocturne, wrapped in the splendor of the ebb and flow of magic.
ride the autumn moon
to seek the dreams of magic
enwrapped there gently
like a held breath of stardust
in crystalline folds of time
