Mixed Storm

Mixed Storm, the subtitle of this latest bunch being: Spontaneous Songs from the Signless Land. Guess that pretty much sums them up really, a rough and ready collection of I don't know what from a rough and ready guy who thinks two ounces of meditation experience is the same as a ride in a space balloon. Oh well...

Brain Drain

the brain drain
who is to blame
seeker flame
begins to wane

lookin’ back
over shoulder
what do i see?
ghost movies
tree breezes
cryin’ babies

time to find
the right climb
to go higher
re-energize

loose juice
bowls you out
squash dreams rob puff
churn indulgence
accelerates
to grace no more

- from Mixed Storm

Flag Fly Days

sleepin’ on the dream stretch
nuthin’ better than these
flag fly days
as the trees sway in the breeze
and the radio plays
sweet songs from out of the land
of i don’t remember
that make my body stretch
awake from slumber
but not for long
turn around
simply ground
kickin’ up a little dust
these are the days
the flag fly days
that i never wanna forget
even though i know
i won’t remember

- from Mixed Storm

Rollin' Away

parallel bars
strengthen you
muscle build
in the midday sun
but remember too
the earth is rollin’
away from that sun
when in daylight
it’s rollin’ away
back to the night
to open space
where stars divide
multiply
and replicate

- from Mixed Storm

Shallows

you can only dig as deep
as your equipment allows you to
and equipment comes from
rollin’ thru’ the past ages in –
meditation
contemplation
sittin’ stone deepening within

head hollow means heart
small to the point of tiny
try to prize it open
without the means will only bring
those pinprick victories
steeped in illusion
that send you to the lands
of the elephant
in future times to come

standin’ in the shallows
sometimes has to be
always hidden in the shallows
is a depth of glory
not immediately apparent
and contempt for the shallows
will never send you to the deep
understand that man
u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d

- from Mixed Storm

100,000s

trace to the face
finger stroke place
back of the hand
in a trackless land...

the great impositor is here
sittin’ right in front of me
i just have to disintegrate
in order to see,
sit in the flames of invisibility
where a 100,000 dawns have broken,
not easy to perform this
hand clap paradox,
to conjure out of thin air
a new construction
in which to abide
for another 100,000 sunsets at least

- from Mixed Storm

Memory Dust

shiny black skull
on a forgotten table
in the hollow sockets
fires shine faintly
mementos from another time
when a man held up his hand
tried to read the signs
and only later discovered
it simply was not his vocation
he never tried to voice those signs
which was just as well –
they were upside down
inside out
the sad result of unseen
provocations
never tried to verbalize
never got physical
but it is still a fact
that he got trapped

- from Mixed Storm