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Category Archives: Spiritual

Summer Morning’s Prayer Rain

 

I walk mindful

after an early summer’s rain—

trees drip shaking gently dry

warming my broad New Hampshire path

I am accompanied with a mid-August

morning breeze blowing softly through my hair—

feeling accepted—

 taught— within its secret wreath

 

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator June 2017

21st. century compass has no true North.

It circles quickly left— counter clockwise

 then, clockwise right—  endlessly spinning

in no direction

                                    —until you step on it.

                        Then…

                                    with crystal glass chips or plastic pieces

in the soles of your  steps—  they become new footprints.

Without arrows, digital flags, religion, or discrimination;

moving your steps equally forward in moral direction

for all the children

—We have wished for

Or given birth to—

Wishing peace in each movement

—life in progressive harmony.

—Forgiving each other in step

—without history’s cruel march

of forgotten sins.

*****

How dare you say I ran away!

I escaped!

            — Gun fire, violence in the street,

Whispers about how I look or speak.

I am huddled in an alley finding nothing new.

We agreed for something else—  beyond  boundaries

            —Kicking ass and often hitting the ground

covering our face, committed to our personal space.

I went over the wall

and fucked the barbwire

                                    — escaping with the  truth.

***** 

Ladies I would invite you up for champagne and lobster

but, since I can’t get it up anymore—

would you like cheese and crackers?

Oh, you old ladies of lords!

Let me open the door

and light a candle

that excludes us from history books

banishing us from false assumption

enjoying each others company

—eating crackers and cheese.

     *****

When I said— what I said

and then— did something different

It was not false.

I just moved on—

not convinced of that particular truth.

*****

Sooooooooo…

Scolding me at 70 years old,

having burst in my youth with fire,

is about as productive as a wet match.

 *****

Although, I believe in the right of your opinion

and should be shared—

I also believe  you will treat our intelligence

and our ignorance, with the stipulation—

of mutual respect.

*****

Why do you insist on haunting

me with my past?

I have been forgivin’

…and have made retribution

from history into history

as I have clicked my mistakes

Into humanities recycle bin.

****

The sun has set

into memories—

as so have you—

In the morning glow

of love— my  tears of dew

—misting rainbows from my heart

falling to the ground

eventually dries

in full sunrise

in my opening eyes.

Yes, I miss you.

Though I will rise to dance in the morrow’

with the day’s first quest

half-smiling—  after— sleeping alone.

*****

  All I can do, is adjust the jib until you hoist the sail”

                                                            —I said

As she was running calm waters with only the kicker on

                                                            —leaving the bay

Not needing any wind, just a cool facial breeze

                                                            —ignoring everything I say.

 Still—

in  silence, the wind picked up.

We stood nodding to each other, fore and aft, tightening the main sail.

                                                            —we sat together hand splashing water

                                                            leaning— into a beautiful day

*****

Life is not a bowl of cherries

it’s a nutty fruit bowl of reality

—in full color

transcribed from black & white

over dark ripened rectitude

—spoiled by miss-steps, success,

and the feeling

you’re the only cherry in the bowl—

with sprinkled sugar and heavy cream.

Perhaps, as sour or perky as we are

we still spit the pit onto the floor

of destiny—

bowing on or mats,  kneeling in our pews,

and howling at the empty bowl

—of the rising moon.

 

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Princess Highgrass

Her long royal green stem, twenty feet high

or so it seemed, to the lawn below,

emerged from a patch

                                                            –of uncut grass.

With grace, top-heavy, carrying seeds for birth

she bends in all directions to the wind without discretion.

sometimes leaning too close to the ground!

                                                            —The ancient breeze

has to straighten her up for the wedding in fall

to disperse her seeds. As long as the wind and the mower

respect her vows of matrimony

                                                           —and miss

The patch

That keeps her Mother’s Kingdom

Season after seasons

                                                            —green.

 

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The Shame of Religion [rev:15]

Page 6 of 110 ~Pine Cone Diary~

Why do we seek revenge, when our Soul

        Is a ghost without identity; that seeks peaceful universal assimilation?

Those who capture other’s souls of Faith, caged in hate or repression, have honed their zeal

        To inflict retribution as righteous judgment, on all “un-holy” dissidents.

Unable for their hearts to control their tongue or their scourge.

 

Love’s prerequisite of understanding, dampens volatile gun powder

        And buries the sword of hate on the path to Nirvana, Olam Ha-Ba, Heaven, and Jannah …

Or any place else that is soft enough to dig with your hands, under loves direction, to bury your hate

wrapped in your inability to leave it alone. Silent until you truly understand.

(Having found on that path, without harm, a pure gentle human heart melted in living flesh

That had no eyes, nor memory, floating freely, Holy above the intellect in senses

without shame, I found myself without anything, for my Love, to have to explain.)

 

 

 “In the universal silence of nature and in the calm of the senses the immortal spirit’s hidden faculty of knowledge speaks an ineffable language and gives [us] undeveloped concepts, which are indeed felt, but do not let themselves be described.”  Immanuel  Kant

 

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Quadrille #28 Submission

Easter Pilgrimage

 

Sir/Madam do not interpret

With your own mind, words of “Divinity”,

Explaining what is held

In the temple of my Soul?

You only speak as the sinner you are.

Now then, let us pray.

Without umbrella

Scent aromatic in clouds

Spring rain wakes flowers.

 
13 Comments

Posted by on March 13, 2017 in Easter, Haiku, Poetry, Spiritual, thoughts, Zen

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator February 2017

The Internal Seed

I never did pretend very well.

Truth was perception—

Dismissing objective proof,

For the answer to the basic question

 “How does popcorn pop”?

Mistakes, miss-judgments, funneled into the mind

Of tornadoes swirling heart-popping roofs off conjecture.

How long can one pretend to believe you can be received?

 Gently through the bluster of ignorance?

And, yes, I am not the person I am.

I am the one inside of you

That never does pretend, very well.

“Wake up!” Said, the knife and fork to the spoon.

  *****

I have lost many memories that I often find in my heart.

   *****

Go home and simply be honest

To your lover and rekindle

The one action you forgot.

 
7 Comments

Posted by on February 12, 2017 in Experimental, ignorance, Love, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Show Me How (A Message From Joan of Arc)

 

In my need, why are you talking to me ancestral spirit?

Bringing me to my knees in guilt.

And now? —to graceful humility.

Yes, our resurrection is foreseen

In the light—of all our children’s

Friendships, courtship, and  dreams!

Yes, of course, why? — late we sleep

Sleeping through the night

And not awakened with history’s presence.

—Bringing us constantly to our knees

In guilt, in weakened humility? And now

In our need

Gracefully show us what to do

And show me  how.

***

Note: Thinking about the Churches, and all common belief  or non-belief  religions.                                               I grew up… with Jesuits giving me my early education, the Southern Baptists gave me my enthusiasm, the Roman Catholics gave me discipline, the friends Service Committee gave me peace, and Zen gave me enlightenment… I’m sure that is the same process for all families of their personal Faith and the path they take . I believe, we need to move into some ACTION … it should not be our surprise to submit our “Just” presence into injustice. Whether as a group, or as an individual. All the “me” (meeeez) become us.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on February 4, 2017 in bullying, Existential, ignorance, Love, poems, Spiritual, Zen

 

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