slow and swift, she screeches haltingly across the purple black sky
oh,
oh my.
a beauty for the ages,
light
so
radiant and
demure.
She invites us to stare, and we are
lost in her charms.
She
Is
Gorgeous.
Midummer’s
moonlit
magical
maidens dance in the fury of
her calm
bewitching
way.
she
is
earth’s
radiant love for
you,
my child,
for you.
(Gatwick Airport; Horley; Salfords; Earlswood; Reigate; Redhill; Merstham; Coulsdon South; Purley East Croydon; Norwood Junction; London Bridge)
slowly does it.
haste waste
makes
you miss
deer and rabbit
playing chess
on
a toadstool.
death’s beauty
reigns resplendent
among Spring’s
cheap nubile lushness.
and
a tadpole,
giddy with promise,
skips across the wings of a swan.
this is not fantastical musing.
this is observation,
scientific and sincere,
as seen from my mind’s
left eye.
I’ve fallen,
twice
up the tree of love.
then slipped on a ladybird,
or ladybug –or
a pair of lovebugs,
I know not –
but slipped
I did.
Distracted by anarchical
dirges to lost love.
No,
I’ve not my mind lost.
at all.
not in the least
bit.
I still see,
and clearly
intuit.
between moss and
river, elder and ant,
I see
truth and
I see love
sharing
kisses-
and more.
so,
take a slow ride
through the valleys of your bones
discover the old wisdom
you never
ever
learned.
Reader,
I love you.
but
the Universe
loves
you more.
angels
sleep gently
and
sandman’s tea
is cold.
but deep
into the quiet,
where only hearts see
i feel,
me…
yearning
for a touch
of glory,
or
victory’s embrace.
or
the Beauty
enshrined
in her smile
and
her face.
the puerile pureness of solitude
glimmers faintly:
a threadbare cloak
offering a
veneer of hope, and
meager protection
against the rigors
of community,
and life’s other
trivialities.
stalking ghosts of wild musings
and fantastical inspirations,
his belly,
filled with yearning
and snapshot feelings,
rumbles for
the messy guts of intimacy and
fear.
the vast expanse of jungle:
a cage,
against distraction;
a recipe for freedom and
inaction.
his roaring defiant howl is
a sad echo filled with pride,
and nothing more.
magic
shines
and
giggles
and dances all about,
but
without love,
he feels
it not.
so he continues on,
drowning helplessly
in beauty
and wonder,
seeking
the flint for his soul.
windy
trees
shriek of the coming
storm
that
is already here.
it roiled,
as young hearts toiled
for naught else
but
a clean
start.
but the tempest calls
now
vengeful
frightful
fearful,
of the calm that will come tomorrow.
Title from “A Wrinkle In Time”:
L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time. New York :Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1962.
“A man walks down the street
It’s a street in a strange world
Maybe it’s the Third World
Maybe it’s his first time around
He doesn’t speak the language
He holds no currency
He is a foreign man
He is surrounded by the sound
The sound
Cattle in the marketplace
Scatterlings and orphanages
He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says Amen!
Hallelujah!”
(Excerpt, Simon, Paul.”Call Me Al“, Concert in the Park, 1991)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfBB2NG93-Q
Focus on all the beauty that remains in this world
and
Engage with it.
Engage with yourself.
Engage with others,
even those who think differently.
and most importantly:
STAND UP!
“So I’m [gonna] need every generation to put your hands up
Cause you can only get ‘em off your back when you stand up!”
(Excerpt, Technique, Immortal.”The Martyr“, The Martyr, 2011)
field nigga
in a suit.
educated and,
yeah,
‘articulate’.
awake,
integrated,
socialized,
sophisticated,
and….
patient,
like a raisin
in the sun.
head bumpin’
to wisdom beats.
patient.
waiting.
patient.
ready
to ride
or die.
You ain’t ready for this.
adivbuddha
nomisyar
