Archive for March, 2012

Day 197

A Nightly Inquiry


She comes to me

always at night

ceaselessly asking

questions anew


Tears streaking

Her messy mascara

Running away

From her dreams


Seeking refuge

Within my arms

To feel the warmth

Enter her being


With watery eyes

She asks me

Once again

“What do you want”


I gaze


within her eyes

and reply


“I want not

your best

for you give

that to stranger.


What I want


is your

very worst,


That which

you would keep

always for



I want

you to share

that with me.

To trust.


That is

all my heart

desires from

you, honey.”

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Day 196

Morning’s Glory


Early Dawn I take to the garden with plow and spade

Tilling the muddy field in the misty morning


With rigorous movements I push the plow

As  my feet sing in the ground I stand


Sweat forms beads upon my high brow

and blisters form on my bare hands pushing


Sinking deeper within the mud I feel coldness

The wet clay forming mud oozes between my toes


Continuing to pull and push I struggle against the grown weeds

Abandoning the plow, I am soon to take up the hoe and spade


Putting my back to work, I raise the hoe high and let it fall

Breaking up the clumps of dirt and clods of mud


Standing in the field, I take a little reprise

Standing watch over the acre I have just tilled


Looking over the other half acre still to go

I wiggle my toes in the encompassing cold mud


Tickling sensations run up my legs into my spine

I glance down and imagine my toes turning into worms


Regaining my breath, I head back to my fun filled task

Taking up the plow once more, I start the rhythmic push-pull dance


Musing that the work of the gardener is a game of give and take

Taking from me my energy, but in the end giving me a freshly tilled field


Finishing up with the work, the morning sun is gently rising as the fog dissipated

I go to the water bin to wash my muddy feet in the icy waters collected from the night

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Day 195

In the Realm of Magic


There is magic there

That wondrous backyard of childhood

Disguising itself in the Moment as just a yard

But the child sees more


There is magic there

Playing pirates in a world of grass

Or building contraptions of one sort or another

The child sees all possibilities


There is magic there

Frolicking in grass stained pants

Making up sports for the fun of competition

The child sees this magic


There is magic there

I wish to live in the realm of this magic

To once again let my imagination run wild

To be the child that knows this realm well

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Day 194



Spring is upon us my dear

Yes, spring is here

Time to take my hand darling, and let’s venture forth


Let our fingers intertwine as we walk

Always towards the unknown

We shall both go exploring our unknown realms


You shall venture forth with me alone

For through our walk through the unknown woods

You shall enter the wild and untamed world of my mind


Gripping my hand tightly as you discover the folds of desire

Intertwining with the crevices of fear

Always be on your guard my darling, for I cannot help you there


Caressing your fingers with my thumb

I become lost within your forsaken heart

Wandering within the maze of your eternal essence


I bravely (or naively) walk into your broken heart

Only to turn back and find myself falling

For your whimiscal games of love


Finding my way out of your heart

I sense that I have entered my own

While you have found yourself out of my mine


Meeting again at last within each others bodies

We come to a clearing in the woods

This is the spring of our infinite delights

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Day 193

The Healer


He moves with adept skill and wisdom

Watering his herbs and mixing his pastes

Channeling his knowledge of remedies

To fix an ailing neighbor


Consulting his garden for a specific plant

Taking root, leaf, stem and flower

Placing each part seperately on the counter

While the flower is in the mortar


Grinding it down to a meager paste

and adding in essences and an oil

Forming a salve for the rash of his neighbor

He works only to heal those in need


Consulting a book, he reads up on muscles

Retraining himself in the art of massage

Muscles sinews twisting around other muscles

He slowly relearns his anatomy


Practicing what he has read when the time comes

He lights some incense to clear the air

Gently he massages the aching pain away

Into a quickly fading memory


Sustaining life always is his craft

and he does it very well

In healing all who cross his path

He ultimately heals his distant past

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Day 192

Map of My Heart


With a steady hand I give you this gift

The map of my heart where my treasures are shone

Do not go yet, I have warnings to be heeded

And many lessons still to be learned


The path to my treasure leads you through

Many differing realms where vices and pain reign

You must first enter the realm of Avarice – a wicked ruler

Who only seeks to gain more and more – you would be his prize


To venture there stealth is required and luck is needed more

Avoiding the pitfalls of that unholy terrain you come to new lands

The realm of delusion where nothing is as it seems

Be vigilent against my heart and your mind alike


Like smoke in dirty mirrors images may appear that are nor there

As shadows conceal traps in a forest so my heart may blind you

With a little bit of good graces and luck you may pass unnoticed

Soon to enter into a small but mighty realm, the one of aversion


Entering this realm, you must face all of my foes

The ones who seek to destroy me and undo what I have done

Let us hope that if you go on this treasure hunt, you may go not blindly

Yet hope more that rules of these realms may be blind to your appearance


For it is in this realm where the treasures are buried

Take them if you feel able to withstand the pressures imposed

For if you are able to retrieve them, then they are already yours to have

And I shall give them to you willingly.

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Day 191



Here I sit alone

Me and my big cup of tea

Taking small sips

That warm my tongue and my throat

Slowing descending

Sating all my desire

Sending divine sight to me


Sip by sip I drink

Drop by drop the cup is drained

The more I drink it

The farther my mind shall go

Transferring my thoughts

Into another unique

And robust world to explore


Finishing the cup

I take to my cool water

To bring me back here

Gaining my earthly senses

I sit down to write

Everything I saw and knew

Learning from life I drink tea.  

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Day 190

The Lovely One


I call you to me lovely one

I call you to play your sensual songs

Take my guitar, take my heart

Take what I give you so I can give you more


I call you to me as you call me to you

I call you to me to sing your epitaphs aloud

I give you what I can so I can give you all I have

Give to me the only thing you have to give – give me your time


I call you to me as loud as I can call

You call me to you with your silent whispers

You play your songs to me, I will sing psalms in your name

Give me your time and I shall give you my heart 

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Day 189

The Outsider


The lonely and wandering traveler

only wishing to be accepted within a group

finds himself again, on the outside looking in


Fighting the life he is living evermore

strangles the tears from his eyes

and leaves little thougts for his mind to create


Resisting to embrace the role of his life

The life of the outsider

Accepted by no group but noticed by all


This strange and lonely man

Lives on the edge of civilization

Always seeking to build a future for his only self


Finding flaws with all of soceity

That entity that proclaims all else inferior

To bolster itself up higher than the individual


Trying to correct the misconceptions

Fixing the erroneous society of the flaws that mar it

The outsider is railed against from all sidees, forced to retreat further


Leaving society to itself

for surely it will destroy itself sooner or later

(more likey sooner rather than later) the outsider stands alone


Calling for aide and help from all around

Society beseeches the outsider to help mend her wounds

The outsider comes to the wearied society at its darkest hour


Through times of pain

The outsider uses all his skill to mend her wounds

only to be cast out again once she has healed

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Day 188

The Gospel


I don’t condemn what has come before

Nor do I convert that still to come

Rather I leave all for their own following

I, myself am my own following


Few there are that have lived the gospel

No gospels of religious rites to speak

Neither are the gospels for impending circumstance

Rarer are that one unheard of gospel


I speak not for Mathew, Mark, Luck, and John

All holy in their artistic merit

Nor of the forgotten Gospels found in Egypt

Still a more ancient an d’ nobler gospel I ascribe to


I do not follow gospels of the Hinduism

Though great be Sri Ramaramakrisna

No I speak, breath, live, and love in one gospel

Thoreau and Whitman knew it well


This holy gospel is written in the rising sun

The words are whispered by the hum of nature’s song

The parables are bespoken by the wisest winds

The Gospel of the Moment fills my life with breath to speak

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