Tripping The Light

A place to pass, undivided,

came she calling,

tripped on moonbeams,

at her feet, carelessly,

closed eyes to evidence

of all obstruction,

felt her way,

edged darkness met oblique.

A passage in an underworld

known better

than light afforded

rights of pathways trod,

undeterred

in shadowed frozen starlight,

a slithered facial glimpse

of subtle god.

Resonance held bound

by briefest meeting,

a pocketful of light

to carry forth

into the dreams held back

in conscious waking,

a hesitation’s gift

of deepest worth.

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Blind Ripples

The time will come, as sure it must,

When flesh and bones return to dust.

Ere this happens to mine state

I challenge life, what may await

Round corners I have yet to veer,

On roads and paths that I must steer

As true to self as I can be

While hurting none as best I see.

The trouble with my self-direction,

Modus operandus, introspection,

Is, I can’t see what acts I do

May taint the world for me and you.

I struggle on as blind man feels,

Alerting senses to what’s real,

Believing that my ripples cast

May count for something that could last

Into eternal consciousness

And, somehow, one day I’ll be blessed

By loving light that comforts soul,

Suffuses dark when all is told

In story of my life on earth,

That task completed had some worth.

Risk

In, through,

of time, we came,

legates from legions

by and gone,

across realms and empires

marched we, stolidly,

emblems held aloft,

heralding new dawns.


Eyes front, we stared,

saluted all

who primed

our noble task,

conquer, our mission,

advance, attack,

civilise,

plunder mask’d.


Frail force subservient,

power

to the proudest

in each land,

patrician rule,

plebeians cast

in roles,

as statues stand.


How the mighty fall,

destitute of grace

unclaimed

from distant shore,

hear our footesteps thump,  

old rules arise anew,

history repeated

evermore.


Harken

to the trumpets’ blast,

adversay

worthy of the name,

enlightened hosts

call forth conscious

liberation,

upend risk game.

We Write…

We write of summer meadows and of dewdrops,

Of circles caught in circles in our mind,

Of senses’ fantasies that beg releasing, in

Images that seep on page to find

Recognition in the land of journey

Of imagination played before our fluttered eyes,

Of colours bright or muted, freed from prism,

Of right or wrong, of truth, of evil lies.

 

We write of winter howling in bare treetops,

Of geometric tangents linked with space,

Of god and gifts and sad laments of knowing

Revealed inside the gifs behind our face,

Of politics and grace and favour owing,

Of how, by nature, owls seek out and track their prey

While, through the night, their silent wings stir currents,

Nocturnal voice, soft breathing held at bay.

 

We write at dawn and in night’s tiptoed torment

Of tales and thoughts, common to us all,

Of worlds within the world we all are sharing,

We write, in honesty, must be the greatest call

Of those drawn to the world of language,

In letter’d form, placed hesitantly, upon page,

Hit ‘publish’ while our hearts on white are crafted,

Daring reciprocity or rage.

 

Of ballerinas twirling in their jewel box,

When opened to reveal our trinkets there,

We write and dare our eyes to endless wonder,

We write, we risk our souls to honest bare.

We write because not doing is no option,

Words bedevil, haunt with no regret,

Spectral forms hover oe’r us, in cloud lexicon,

Begging exorcism on the net.

 

We write in music, pictures and prose poetry,

In art, in forms all risen from the pyre

Of ashen phoenix, from a long tradition

Of pigments mixed in charcoal from the fire.

In black and white, in colours that suffuse us,

Permeate the gases of our form,

Our nebula of knowing that what moves us,

Communication, as the human norm.

 

We write when tears are forming on our eyelids,

Smudging ink that proves our hearts still feel,

In anger, too, spilled blood from ancient consciousness,

We write to justify our thoughts are real.

We write because we see all souls are hurting,

As mine does too, from time to time, no less,

We write as union with the great unknowing,

One cell from shared communion that we bless

 

In knowing that no trouble that we carry

Need be borne alone no matter where we are,

Our words are missiles, more powerful than nuclear,

They are the love that nurtures near or far.

The word is flesh, the word is souls abiding

In light, its form, its earthless, weightless mass,

In silence and in photonic dark room,

One word may mean more than all the rest.

 

We write of dreams succumbed to when we’re sleeping,

Of daydreams caught in shower’s gentle sting,

Of justice, truth, of pain, of deep depression,

Of cloud release ascended on the wing.

Of tender-hearted moments that we’ve nourished,

Of visions seen in skies, on mountain peaks,

We write of all that’s conjured in our musings,

We write because some words are hard to speak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

True Is True

Truth is truth,

Say what you will,

Ancient wisdom

Conquers still.

The relative

And absolute

Will still remain

When all is moot.

 

Epochs pass

And eras too

Yet light remains

For true is true.

 

Knowledge withers

Like the tree

The beasts that roam

And you and me.

Lands may shift

And mountains fall

Valleys form

New creatures call.

 

Epochs pass

And eras too

Yet light remains

For true is true.

 

Evolving world

To understand

Histories told

Each time, each land.

Records show

A changing face

Where is the constant

In this race?

 

Epochs pass

And eras too

Yet light remains

For true is true.

 

A mighty bang,

Exploding mass,

Expanding universe

To last?

One short journey

Here we have.

Fulsome earth

And constant birth.

 

Epochs pass

And eras too

Yet light remains

For true is true.

 

Creation hand,

A bolt of light,

Separating

Day from night.

A dusty passing,

This life lost,

A radiant glow

A new life host.

 

Epochs pass

And eras too

Yet, light remains

For true is true.