lost now...

 

lost now -

the aroma of his light
that once had lit the way
out of her own darkness
the fragrance of his love
cast in a thousand wisps of windblown time
and with the loss of these
these filaments of her
there remained
only her mind
and her heart
her mind now shattered into fragments
emptied of its life flow
it, too, began to disintegrate to dissolve
into tarnished memories
memories tainted by that demon time
fading into the forest of forgotten faces
leaving only her heart
the heart that once beat to the drums
of ancient mariners
that beat as one with his
now slowed to shallow pulses
flickering dimly in the night of her sorrow
disappearing into the dank void
of what had been -

lost now

 

[feeling a bit "lost now" for words - 

hence, this re-posting of something over at "words unspoken" - enjoy!]

the next coming of the mighty bird...

the mighty phoenix

is a mighty bird alright
a mighty bird indeed
he wafted into our world once
it seems so long ago
was he ever not here

came from the ashes he did
just as he was meant to do
rising once more above it all
above the debris of life down here
rising into the brilliance of the sun
to shed his light below

he had come that once into our lives
bringing truth and beauty and light
into our world into our hearts
but then he was called
to another place
in another time
and on his mighty wings
he bravely and fearlessly flew
away
from
us
to where he had to go

and in that other place
in that other time
he was lost to us
lost to our world
it was a time
when our world
was, in deed and in fact,
darkened
and
lost
without him
without his presence
without his mighty voice
his bountiful beautiful words

and then
we were blessed by the gods that be
for the mighty phoenix was returned to us
and to us did he come
bringing once more truth and beauty and light
in his mighty voice
with his mighty words
and our world was a better place
a brighter place
for his coming

but
all too soon
the gods that be
once more became displeased
or so it seems
and called the mighty phoenix
to another place
in another time
and to the other place in that other time
the mighty phoenix has bravely and fearlessly flown
away
from
us
to where he has to go

and so it is
that now we wait
we wait
for his coming again
we wait in our world
darkened by his absence
empty without his words
we wait
for the mighty phoenix
to rise once more
above it all
and with him bringing
truth and beauty and light

for he is
the mighty phoenix
the mighty phoenix who
came from the ashes he did
just as he was meant to do
rising once more above it all
above the debris of life down here
rising into the brilliance of the sun
to shed his light below
here
with
us

we
wait

thinking of you,
our pal

thy will be done...

autumn comes

thy will be done

lifeless leaves loose their grip

falling now for that final trip

swept to the shore by whispers of dreams

float away in swirls blue and green

soft subtle shadows rush to the night

calling your name in love's lost light

and so many memories of you

what am i to do
 autumn comes

we ain't talkin' cotton...

fields of white fluff
flecked in twigs of brown
holding up skies of whisperin' strings of dreams
hanging on the old plantation tree
bayous brimmin' with nightmares
of babies born to die in chains
ghosts of dark annie’s red-haired girl child
now runnin' free in the big house
the big house of her sperm daddy
balls of white turned scarlet red
with the blood-fingers of those starvin' chained souls
waters turned stagnant from closed minds and hearts of stone
epithets of brown skinned souls etched
into tree trunks by the noose round their neck
spirits swing there in the silence of their crimes
murder by any other name
murder still
nothin’ civil ‘bout a civil war
rivers run red
from crimes of the bed
all those hopes now laying dead
with babies born but never fed

rivers run red
bodies of white
held by brown arms already dead
ain’t none of it never ‘nough
murder by any other name
murder still while
rivers run red

and we ain’t talkin’ cotton

this piece was scribbled in my notebook literally as i drove through the cotton fields of arkansas on my recent trip - there is no editing from the original words - no particular format of "poetry" here - just a rambling stream of consciousness arising from the spirits speaking from those timeless fields of slavery - 

 

to U -

i see your footprints 'round the campfire from time to time

and feel the warmth of Ur gentle gaelic spirit -

be well and know that U are missed

and thought of with much affection, my friend -