Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Sad People

Everyone's part of a predictable
boring play
and it makes me sad
to know that the only sad people
are alive enough
to not get a part

- Bret McGibbon

Those of Us

Those of us gifted enough to know
what everyone knows and want to unite
the hearts of men - make music.

Those of us who walk the world alone
seeing what no one sees,
trying to touch the heart of any man - write.
- Brett McGibbon

So this is why I write...

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Two Shades of Discipline

Result of an assignment from last weeks creative writing class. The subject discipline.

Stone Disciplined

Chiseling hard,
immovable stone;
will the mallet,
the implement to impel.

A painter whose brush
paints with space
seizing all as a ruse,
bar the masterpiece recluse.

In the beginning,
in all directions,
stone racing
neither space to move
nor room to sculpt.

A tiny nick here
a chip there
and soon a cleft
a cloven gap
begins to appear.

A small space yields,
as the hammer swings,
striking chisel cold,
crafting the mark.

A clumsy scratch,
first of many
each following some
cryptic metamorphosing plan.

Patterns, like thoughts
fleeing from moments
like sparks from a sparkler;
yet hidden within, a steel core
conducting them all.

The chips become larger
strikes more precise
exposing more of what
begs to be born.

This dark slab of stone,
just this side of done,
when seemly honed
a mountain unveiled.

So summon up the will
and chisel away more
as time runs down hill
into sand beneath your feet.

The piece nearly done
just a few more strikes,
then down comes the curtain
and still darkness of night.

Disciplined and Owned

Chiseled, molded,
as I see fit;
never doubting
who you are;
you are mine,
my re-creation
from who you once
thought your were.

Not a thought,
ever, of
I am too fat,
too thin,
my breasts too
or too large.

You are my crowning,
most precious
work of art,
creation and

In my eyes,
you are flawless.
I created,
and shaped you,
to my deepest desires.

Any remaining
thought of lack,
or imperfection;
tossed into the wind
as you gave yourself
so totally
and completely
to me.

Your pleasure entirely mine.
Your orgasms, my dominion,
set free with complete abandon;
relinquishing all thought
of inadequacy.

Pain, my loving discipline,
your exquisite pleasure;
each caressing stroke of my lash,
perfecting the spirit
trapped deep within,
screaming for release.

Obedient, compliant,
no more questioning
of how
or why,
only an insatiable desire
to serve your master.

Old conflicts,
which once ruled
your being, now
gone from
your mind
and soul.

Each breath,
an affirmation
of your craving
to serve,
where destined
at my feet.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Savor Each Moment

When you finally find that moment of peace when everything seems to be running as it should, remember this movie and enjoy the moment.

We were all on a journey of change and growth; those moments of peace are just temporary rest stops.

When fate comes down, what then?

Is it really all over or do you find in its stead a clean slate upon which to compose an even better symphony? You choose, for even when all else is gone, torn to shambles and left as dust, the I who is you, still remains with untold marvelous possibilities yet to unfold. The choice is yours, to be a moist spot in the dust or the seed of a mighty oak or a rose bud ready to unfold.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Thoughts for Wednesday

"It is only when we realize that life is taking us nowhere
that it begins to have meaning."

~P.D. Ospensky

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

"Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

"The future enters into us, in order to transform itself in us, long before it happens."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

"The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Tomato not Hole

I watched you grow,
before you,
there was
just a yellow
kissing the sun.

You came
into my world
a petite
emerald sphere.

Green to life
to me,
to all around.

Space, only
meant for you
to grow into.

Flowing into
the universe
as spring rain
into an empty sea.

Soon big as
a child’s fist.
Green smile
out from you face
and across the sky.

All a garden
to nourish
your soul.

in some dark
and unknown hour,
he came;
and ripping
a hole
into your
delicate flesh.

A wound
which grew
ever larger as
it devoured
your soft

Then the hellish
demon fled
as quietly and
mysteriously as
he arrived.

All I saw was
a wound,
a gaping chasm
plunging to
your core.

A gash which
never healed;
just painted
over with
dry and
crusty tan.

What remained
grew, though
torn and violated
as you were,
into more
than a small
green orb
you once
had been.

Green grew
to crimson,
like a
red sunset
on that parched
desert scab.

You floated
in space
in a web
of life giving

A fire red
drawing me
in, as a moth
to a flame.

As day
drew to a close;
I held you,
as you were.

Plucking you up
from the green
strand from
which you grew.

A kiss,
a bite,
as my lips
met yours
and teeth
sunk deep into
your tender flesh.

That first taste,
sweetest delight,
and fresh.

In that moment,
time stood still,
a first
kiss stops
the stars.

The universe,
held its breath
and the life
behind it all,
sang with a
voice from
a paradise
from heaven’s

blood red
flowed into
my being,
flushing it
with new life
animating my essence.

An elixir,
Soothing a
nothing else
could quench.

I floated,
lost in a world
of luscious lascivious
clouds; soaring
amongst towering,
ambrosial peaks.

Only after,
did I understand,
It was the tomato
that was you,
not the hole.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Waiting… (for a sign)

Sitting, waiting
“Where is my muse?”
I ask.
”Come to me.”

Speaking noiselessly
into the otherworld.
“Awen where have you
Why are you

Awaken my voice,
shine your light
into my essence!
So I may see, feel
and become
the words once more.

Then I hear,
somewhere from
deep within;
a growling,
like thunder echoing
in the distance.

I hear the voice
within, as
my stomach

Saturday, August 4, 2007

A Few Poems by Kabir

Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck,
nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly -
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.

Kabir says:
Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.

The Guest is inside you, and also inside me;
you know the sprout is hidden inside the seed.
We are all struggling; none of us has gone far.
Let your arrogance go, and look around inside.
The blue sky opens out farther and farther,
the daily sense of failure goes away,
the damage I have done to myself fades,
a million suns come forward with light,
when I sit firmly in that world.
I hear bells ringing that no one has shaken;
inside "love" there is more joy than we know of;
rain pours down, although the sky is clear of clouds;
there are whole rivers of light.
The universe is shot through in all parts by a single sort of love.
How hard it is to feel that joy in all our four bodies!
Those who hope to be reasonable about it fail.
The arrogance of reason has separated us from that love.
With the word "reason" you already feel miles away.
How lucky Kabir is, that surrounded by all this joy
he sings inside his own little boat.
His poems amount to one soul meeting another.
These songs are about forgetting dying and loss.
They rise above both coming in and going out.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Parable of the Cautious Man

There was a very cautious man,
who never laughed or cried.
He never risked, he never lost,
he never won nor tried.
And when he one day passed away,
his insurance was denied,
For since he never really lived,
they claimed he never died.

- Unknown