i stretch the message, gone
on a frozen halo, ornate in ways
i only recognize, pulled like red
taffy on the boardwalk, yanked
gracious & straight, innertube heart,
i am back in the locust beauty of
transformation, curious juxtaposition
where i write THIS must match up
with what i mean, oh, holy holy holy
magnificent abrasion, the scars &
false hope i return, the scalding water
pulled this way & that, here in the
diamond holiday of my mental tremlo,
elastic dispatches from north of the
crimson trees, the way you look at me
& bless the earth with only thy true name
peace
markk
elastic dispatches
elastic dispatches
hello astronaut
no -- im not a firefly
no im not a flying saucer
in the distance
I'm a self contained unit
of consciousness waiting
to be reborn
-- d.a. levy
no -- im not a firefly
no im not a flying saucer
in the distance
I'm a self contained unit
of consciousness waiting
to be reborn
-- d.a. levy
This poem has true merit. I read the other one, which conveyed truth, but, in my honest opinion, not poetically presented. This, however, is a different story. You strike me as one who is ready for meditation and deeper searching. Nice poem. Thanks for sharing.
Be well,
lenny
Be well,
lenny
None of us ever gets anything we don't either need or deserve. Dry those liquid emotions and move on.
Re: elastic dispatches
When I read this out loud, it has some kind of a snare drum ring to it. I like the beat and the flow...not to mention the images it brings across my ticker. Excellent.markk wrote:curious juxtaposition
where i write THIS must match up
with what i mean, oh, holy holy holy
magnificent abrasion
"Every genuinely religious person is a heretic, and therefore a revolutionary" -- GBShaw
thy true name:
the holy silence between
each letter coughing blood
to exume the patterns of
lifelessness beyond the
tranquilty of bliss and peace -
thy true name:
unfolding its origami wings
into patterns recognizable
to the cognizant eye without
brows beaten into metallic
wastes subduing the martial
dogs craving bones of discarded
beauty from which dreams sprang
like volcanic hopes running amok -
thy true name:
lying dormant as 30 year locusts
patiently awaiting signals beyond
our touch, our ears, our nose,
our singular breath exhaling death rays
which penetrate the cosmic
wonderland of non-knowing
like ether bunnies without bonnets
we relentlessly seek our questions
with masks of answers fitting our
egos for every occasion but the Now
thy true name:
remaining nameless, formless, boundless,
alpha/omega, yin/yang, eternal whisper of OM,
the sound of Light Incessant between
the holy verb-brations of S I L E N C E.
cecil
the holy silence between
each letter coughing blood
to exume the patterns of
lifelessness beyond the
tranquilty of bliss and peace -
thy true name:
unfolding its origami wings
into patterns recognizable
to the cognizant eye without
brows beaten into metallic
wastes subduing the martial
dogs craving bones of discarded
beauty from which dreams sprang
like volcanic hopes running amok -
thy true name:
lying dormant as 30 year locusts
patiently awaiting signals beyond
our touch, our ears, our nose,
our singular breath exhaling death rays
which penetrate the cosmic
wonderland of non-knowing
like ether bunnies without bonnets
we relentlessly seek our questions
with masks of answers fitting our
egos for every occasion but the Now
thy true name:
remaining nameless, formless, boundless,
alpha/omega, yin/yang, eternal whisper of OM,
the sound of Light Incessant between
the holy verb-brations of S I L E N C E.
cecil
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