Sunshine Days and Foggy Nights

by James Kavanaugh

I was born to catch dragons in the their dens
And pick flowers
To tell tales and laugh away the morning
To drift and dream like a lazy stream
And walk barefoot across sunshine days.

I was born to find goblins in their caves
And chase moon light
To see shadows and seek hidden rivers
To hear the rain fall on dry leaves
And chat a bit with death across foggy nights.

I was born to rub my hands in dirt
And walk green hills
To plant corn and make bread
To build a house strong against the wind
And to live free across sunshine days.

I was born to watch owls in dark forests
And hear coyotes cry
To feel trees tremble and the grass sleep
To taste cold air and smell the damp earth
And watch ghostly shapes disappear across foggy nights.

I was born to love a woman wrapped in sunshine
And dressed in fog
To make a pact on high hill
Ratified centuries ago by the sun
To walk together through sunshine days and foggy nights.

Christmas Cheer

Ting, ting-a-ling
bells are a ringing
Stores are a bringing
all are a singing…

Singing of goodness
and joy so full
this marvelous time of the year.

Oh Christmas season
floods are senses
dowses our sense
of right
good
and just.

Cheer and compassion
salivate on queue
like dogs to
Pavlov’s ringing bell
just before the
frenzied feast.

Christ’s birthday clowns
ringing bells
blackened pots in hand
feeding the homeless
and hungry
forgotten all –
just moments
before.

We rush to sales
thrown in our eyes
grappling to regain
our sight
with gifts to buy
cards to send
tokens of our
deepest abiding love –
the sacrifice
nailed to the floor
by a horde of
stampeding feet.

Celebrate this joy
buy, buy, buy
just one more
gift is all it will
take to bail out
our callused hearts
from the cold dark
cells we lock
them in.

Where will be the bell ringers
on New Years day;
Will they ring as they stagger
through hangovers from
the previous night’s
fun and frolic?

Will they ring as a
New Year begins
while the homeless crawl
through their vomit
like every other fucking day –
waking from attempts to drown
the pain and torments
the days and nights before?

Oh magical Christmas
holiday season.
What a wondrous time
of the year.
Time to buy back our souls
our hearts
those we love
or pretend care for
with packages
gifts
and little change
in an
asinine
clown’s pot.

The Machine

Are we a machine trying to be human?
Or are we the human a machine is trying to be?

Cycles

Sitting here contemplating
cycles of time
of life
and
death.

We are born immortal
grow older, watch
those close to us
who gave birth to us
die and pass away.

Each day a part of
our immortality slips away
leaving a less certain mortal
behind as night closes
the day.

I watch a self
hang up the phone
as the words
soak into my chest
and settle
twisted
deep inside
my gut.

Mom has passed away
my sister said
she went peacefully
in her sleep

I don’t remember
what was said
after that.

A sleepless night
a different world
lit as the earth
fell beneath
a sun.

The philosopher
strangely quiet
no words of insight
no wisdom
just a hole
bleeding tears
from a half
beating heart

It was best
we said;
unable to speak
to eat
nourishment injected
insipid and tasteless
through a plastic
tube.

Lou Gehrig’s
does that you know
it eats you bit by bit
till nothing is left
nothing but,
your mind
your thoughts
Your screams to
a failing body which is
no longer yours.

It was best we say
but, it doesn’t feel
that way.

Sweet Serendipity

By Paul Davis

Sweet serendipity
Continue to shine on me
Open my eyes to see
Make me all you want me to be
Cause me to trip over my treasure
Discover my destiny
Live authentically
Practice spontaneity
Get rid of hesitancy
Live boldly
Engage the day exuberantly
Manifest my full potential passionately
Never being limited by my current reality
But living from within victoriously
Via my faith and inner reality
Sweet serendipity
When my efforts are done
And the distance I’ve fully run
Let it be said of me
In love and life I won
Take me from tragedy
To triumph
From a mess
To a deliverable message
From stumbling block
To stepping stone
From seeming setbacks
To immeasurable successes
From pain
Into power
From anxiety
Into creativity
From hurt
Into healing
From offense
Into feeling
From disaster
Into dynamic recovery
Countless destiny discoveries
Dream fulfillment
Causing all in the world
To hear it
Sweet serendipity shine on me
Make my life
What it ought to be!

Crystal Bubble

Watching, I saw
a splendiferous world
of majestic mountains
crystal streams and emerald forests
all whispering their invitation
inviting me in

Scrambling to reach out
to touch a panther lily
devour the scent of pines
and drink my fill
of a cool flowing
crystalline stream
rushing
down a eroded
waterslide carved
into ancient stone
falling to a tranquil lake
in wait

Only I tripped and
fell over my still-born
inner child lying
a congealed motionless
mass at my feet

Only movement
of the corpse
a horideous horridus
slithering within the
putrefying flesh –
a stench on the edge
of vomiting

Yet, I see everything as if
it were all put together
in one masterpiece
painted to capture that
precise entire moment for
all of history

As soon as I crawl into
that very same moment
it and I are suddenly in
two different worlds

There it is –
everything we think
everything we do already
there waiting for us
to step through

There we are
sitting inside
this crystal bubble
of now waiting
for it shatter
becoming
then and
with freedom to reach
beyond the now

In the moment
we the unruly
are incessantly
fighting for control
to posses it
as if it were
ours alone
and not
us who belong
to it

That is us
it is who we
think our selves to be
It is I,
it is you,
it is them
who think it
belongs to me

So I sit
sit and watch
as worlds
as magical and full of life
as any I have seen
explode into existence
before my eyes
and are unrolled
before my feet

I sit and bounce
about as if
there was no reality
other than this game of life
a game we create
whose rules
we define
and
choose

Choose for this game
with every play
who wins or loses –
only caveat
it I who is each player
not them

It is I who Can
only win
it is I who Can
only loose

It is then that
I know that
I am
not I
so with we
me
and them

We all just paint
in serious colors
as if any of it
really mattered
–
even the seriousness
has no matter

It is a game
like we all played
as kids
a game we play
for fun
for pretend
as if it were
all that was real

Is this so outspoken?
To laugh at reality
at you and me
and them
to make jest of
life’s living and it’s death
to profane the sacred
and make sacred the profane?

Is not the making of
the playing of
the being in the game
the game?

Is there not pretentiousness
in pretending reality is
really real
as if real has any meaning
other than what we give it
to be?

Paint authentic reality
with dazzling water colors
on a rainy day
and perhaps after the storm
your canvas will be clear
clear to paint a new
and more magnificent
authenticity

Paint in the rain
write words
in the shifting windblown
sands of the Sahara
for therein
lies their
permanence

Sit in the
crystal bubble of
sand melted
by heat of
this moment

There is the wasteland
there in the lush green
forest of our being

One Day the Sun

One Day the sun admitted,
I am just a shadow.
I wish I could show you
the infinite incandescence
that has cast
my brilliant image!
I wish I could show you,
when you are lonely
or in darkness
the Astonishing Light
of your own being!

- HAFIZ....

Who is the shadow in the dark corner of darkness?

This darkest of souls
assassinates wonder
with reason
slaughters awe
with logic
defecates on
mystery's magic
and claims
it is light
truth
and right.

An evil not
to be found
across the room
the city
county
or world.

It far
more insidious
and certainly
much more intimate
than that.

It's voice I hear -
ego raging
with reason and logic
echoing in
my fog filled mind
as I wake.

Beginning each day
I gazing upon its face
there starring back
from an expressionless mirror.

There can be found
no other person
being
or thing
to be more feared
or more devastating
than that which I find
lurking within.

If there are demons
with which to do battle
let it first be with those
inside who masquerade
as me.

Because in truth
there are none
in this
or any world
I could find
who would do
more harm

Dark Rush

There are souls whose origin
is from the dark,
empty corners
of darkness it’s self.

Coming into this world
walking
breathing
sitting next to you
in your place of work
on a park bench
even your places
of worship.

These dark shadows
from darkness
like black holes
suck life
light
and purpose
from any living
being
which comes
close to them -
while you
sit transfixed
mesmerized
by their words
thoughts
and their caresses
of your being.

They come into
this world
memory
of who
and
what they are
all lost
erased
as if it never was.

Were you
to see one of these dark ones
there would be nothing
strange or unusual -
for all your senses
your perceptions
and intuitions
would tell you
they are as
any of you
loving
kind and
caring
wishing only
for your well being.

If you had eyes
to see into their
soul
you would
see the dark
parasitic spirit
poised ready
to seize your
most precious life
wrenching it
your grasp.

Even with this sight
to see -
they, like a two headed
snake, would fill you
with fascination
and curiosity -
enticing you always
to watch
to come closer -
but seeing,
you would stop
never letting them close
never inviting
them into your bed.

ah but,
only if you
had the sight
you would be saved
from the fate
which surely now
awaits you.

And for these dark souls
their greatest rush
and joy in life is
death.

Death is the greatest rush in life
for only then
do they go back to
the darkness from
whence they came -
back to the darkness
to finally be home
to finally find their
belonging.

Sunrise on a Cloudy Day

I sat watching fire spread across the sky, as the sun began its trek across a sky swarming; filled with white, gray and nearly black tumultuous clouds bursting into a kaleidoscopic dance of iridescent flames. I sat and watched, silently remembering so many prayerful wishes, hoping to share just one of these precious moments with another. Yet, no matter with whom I found myself or how many times I sat with them watching the display unfold, I always felt so isolated and alone.

Today, I sat and watched the sunrise, and I knew perhaps for the first time, this is a very personal and private moment; an intimate touching and comingling between the essence of my being and the divine. I knew that I was not, nor ever was alone, the divine feminine was always there sitting close beside me, I in her embrace, sharing in all the awe and wonder of this eternal moment poking holes in time.