Pageantry
Could Christian Fundamentalism be the dread AntiChrist,
and greedy Wall Street his ravenous Beast?
Could the Second Coming be prides of young
claiming back the streets?
Could Prophecies feared and hoped
to bring Sinners to our knees
to lift the Holy into just reward
by Blessed Hero's mighty sword
defending, avenging the meek --
Could that parade be before us,
just not the scene we believed,
preached to prove the righteous right?
Has the final fight foretold been taking form,
storm clouds positioned for a hard rain to fall,
untidy time of transition as soothsayers call,
alarm bells chime?
Is the end of this trial of dependence nigh?
Can we break the Jesus code, create out of
Apocalypse our own golden age, reign
of Peace?
We Didn't Know
Efficient development requires deprivement
No profit, no playground to feel alive in
Those few groomed for career cheer, mocking
"Can't you hear; that's freedom knocking."
"Work for rent, or stay in school, dude."
You get no cake for being a loser.
Orwell warned "Big Brother is watching."
We didn't know he meant on you-tube.
We didn't know our life was a crime
Sentenced from birth to pay all our time
Cast from the truck to the roadside to rot
Drawn outside of luck, all about what you're not.
Media screams their required truth feud.
Sell saturated garbage labeled food.
Orwell warned; we were warned:
"The best of you will be co-opted."
We didn't know they meant on you-tube.
Scryed from my mind, upon this cyber page
It's not that everything old is new again;
or that nothing unique arises under the Sun.
Creative thinkers derive and develop ideas
already in their psychic maze.
Meanwhile, unfazed, unasked reality evolves
along its merry way.
New maps for old appear each day.
Most of us just follow the crowd,
caught up in focus on our current task,
using what tools come to hand,
what we've been taught.
(Badmouth the disorderly man -- the message lost,
never usefully discussed.)
We want to believe in stability,
in natural laws that are fair and make sense.
Convinced, we are happier to float in a bubble
outside of duration,
insured against consequence
of change.
(from a fool's journey)
Etherized
Will o' the wisp wending a land of dreams
Daisies, bright blooming weeds,
mellifluous, grand.
Whoosh! Genie arms wide into flight
above foam and sea.
Beyond fear,
absorbed by awareness -- sheer horizon
confined by no mind, eyes
or reason.
Who imagines,
and in that magic space settles
to reside?
Women in velvet and fur, swan necks,
arrogant tresses,
sip marvelous narcotic, sweet as fire.
Upheld mirror portraits, glowing strands
of wire and prismic hues,
vibrant perfumes call to wander,
to stray.
Will-less, free, each step,
each feather fall
a gift of mystery, of mystics' play,
caress of bliss.
Sea Sons
The Sea is changing.
Aging beauty, seething with rage
of the forgotten.
Once your tempestuous lover,
violently seductive, wild mystery.
Legends of monsters and gods
poured from her essence
into your sleeping ear.
Challenge of fear and glory brought you
to her shores, pleading for
acceptance, romance, adventure
and all its chaotic promise.
The Sea swimming with life,
unbound to expectations,
inspiring song and trepidations,
immortal as her sister, Earth.
We are all changing, aging,
wearing down.
Less arrogant hero than
teller of tales,
what will we teach
our grandchildren
of the Sea?
Could Christian Fundamentalism be the dread AntiChrist,
and greedy Wall Street his ravenous Beast?
Could the Second Coming be prides of young
claiming back the streets?
Could Prophecies feared and hoped
to bring Sinners to our knees
to lift the Holy into just reward
by Blessed Hero's mighty sword
defending, avenging the meek --
Could that parade be before us,
just not the scene we believed,
preached to prove the righteous right?
Has the final fight foretold been taking form,
storm clouds positioned for a hard rain to fall,
untidy time of transition as soothsayers call,
alarm bells chime?
Is the end of this trial of dependence nigh?
Can we break the Jesus code, create out of
Apocalypse our own golden age, reign
of Peace?
We Didn't Know
Efficient development requires deprivement
No profit, no playground to feel alive in
Those few groomed for career cheer, mocking
"Can't you hear; that's freedom knocking."
"Work for rent, or stay in school, dude."
You get no cake for being a loser.
Orwell warned "Big Brother is watching."
We didn't know he meant on you-tube.
We didn't know our life was a crime
Sentenced from birth to pay all our time
Cast from the truck to the roadside to rot
Drawn outside of luck, all about what you're not.
Media screams their required truth feud.
Sell saturated garbage labeled food.
Orwell warned; we were warned:
"The best of you will be co-opted."
We didn't know they meant on you-tube.
Scryed from my mind, upon this cyber page
It's not that everything old is new again;
or that nothing unique arises under the Sun.
Creative thinkers derive and develop ideas
already in their psychic maze.
Meanwhile, unfazed, unasked reality evolves
along its merry way.
New maps for old appear each day.
Most of us just follow the crowd,
caught up in focus on our current task,
using what tools come to hand,
what we've been taught.
(Badmouth the disorderly man -- the message lost,
never usefully discussed.)
We want to believe in stability,
in natural laws that are fair and make sense.
Convinced, we are happier to float in a bubble
outside of duration,
insured against consequence
of change.
(from a fool's journey)
Etherized
Will o' the wisp wending a land of dreams
Daisies, bright blooming weeds,
mellifluous, grand.
Whoosh! Genie arms wide into flight
above foam and sea.
Beyond fear,
absorbed by awareness -- sheer horizon
confined by no mind, eyes
or reason.
Who imagines,
and in that magic space settles
to reside?
Women in velvet and fur, swan necks,
arrogant tresses,
sip marvelous narcotic, sweet as fire.
Upheld mirror portraits, glowing strands
of wire and prismic hues,
vibrant perfumes call to wander,
to stray.
Will-less, free, each step,
each feather fall
a gift of mystery, of mystics' play,
caress of bliss.
Sea Sons
The Sea is changing.
Aging beauty, seething with rage
of the forgotten.
Once your tempestuous lover,
violently seductive, wild mystery.
Legends of monsters and gods
poured from her essence
into your sleeping ear.
Challenge of fear and glory brought you
to her shores, pleading for
acceptance, romance, adventure
and all its chaotic promise.
The Sea swimming with life,
unbound to expectations,
inspiring song and trepidations,
immortal as her sister, Earth.
We are all changing, aging,
wearing down.
Less arrogant hero than
teller of tales,
what will we teach
our grandchildren
of the Sea?