Sunday, February 22, 2009

Rock-Ello Baby


The past is a cradle, weeping in the dark.
Burning hairdryer and hints of an un-washable stain.
When a hamper is put under duress, it is better to just smile and wait. The stressor is soon to see the truth, bear no worry on that.

A squire may study, though that makes not his wisdom. He must first face the pain he has begun to adhere to. Only then is he to be able to see the brilliance of the dark red blood.
Soon the past will become the future and we will not forget it.

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Brown Oxide of Winter


A petty tyrant is looking at his unpaid bills with an obvious look of disdain. His cook serves him stale bread and tainted meat in a fever of panic, as she feels a ghost cross her path. It is January and the frozen lake outside the window holds skating children. Across the street is a church, inside of which a rabbi dances in a white silk coat, oblivious to the world around him. Behind the church, in the alley, a fool shouts, "I am the World!" In an open window above him is a face, belonging to a man who realizes that the fool is not such a fool after all.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The Snowman of Distractions


You say, "There is a method to the madness."
I say, "My method is madness."
You say, "For the sake of sanity!"
I say, "Let go of it. It'll drag you down."

Death knocks at your door.
You run for your life.
Death knocks at my door.
I invite him in for tea.

I suppose that we are different,
I've loved you and I'll love you evermore.
And though snowmen melt in the hot sun,
It is only when they're sane.

...And not made of packing material.

The Blast of That Trumpet


This is for all those who contemplate suicide.
This is all for those close to Death.
This is in honor and memory of the only Rumi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Remember me,
I will be with you in the grave,
on the night you leave behind
your shop and your family.
When you hear my soft voice
echoing in your tomb,
you will realise
that you were never hidden from my eyes.
I am the pure awareness within your heart,
with you during joy and celebration,
suffering and despair.


One that strange and fateful night
you will hear a familiar voice--
you'll be rescued from the fangs of snakes
and the searing sting of scorpions.
The euphoria of love will sweep over your grave;
it will bring wine and friends, candles and food.


When the light of realization dawns,
shouting and upheaval
will rise from the graves!
The dust of ages will be stirred
by the cries of ecstasy,
by the banging of drums,
by the clamor of revolt!


Dead bodies will tear off their shrouds
and stuff their ears in fright--
What use are the senses and the ears
before the blast of that Trumpet?

Look and you will see my form
whether you are looking at yourself
or toward the noise and confusion.
Don't be blurry-eyed,
See me clearly--
See my beauty without the old eyes of delusion.

Beware! Beware!
Don't mistake me for this human form.
The soul is not obscured by forms.
Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt
the rays of the soul's light
would still shine through.

Beat the drum,
Follow the minstrels of the city.
It's a day of renewal
when every young man
walks boldly on the path of love.

Had everyone sought God
Instead of crumbs and copper coins
They would not be sitting at the edge of the moat
in darkness and regret.

What kind of gossip house
have you opened in our city?
Close your lips
and shine on the world
like loving sunlight.

Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!"

~Rumi

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Rising Moon is Sinking



A moon as red as the rich loam of the earth
The sailors had never seen a sight like this
Like a ball of lava rising up from the ocean floor
But instead of rising, it was sinking
As it sank, it hissed and steam rose up
As though from a hot pan placed in water
The end was coming; all could feel it
The sign of the moon surfaced in the sailors' minds
A picture like the one before them
The meaning of it was lost unto them
Until now, until this, until the falling of the moon from the sky
Until the sinking of the moon in the sea
Until the end of moonlight, forever.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Where



The desert holds my sanity
Scorch is its captive
Music holds my insanity
Love is its comfort

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Amazement


The sharp tang of the salt hit me like a cargo truck on a busy highway. Almost toppling, I grabbed at the railing by my side. Where in the multiverse did that come from?

A shout, calling my name. "Francesca!" I looked all around, not able to pinpoint the voice. There! A little glimpse of something far below. Under the powder grey boulders piled against each other. There was a small space, big enough to fit ... someone....

"Who are you?" I called back. No answer but the echo repeating itself. "Are, you who are who you?"

Finally the person crawled out. No, not the person. Nothing with that appearance could be called a person. Someone touched my shoulder, startling me. I swung around to find my friend standing there. We were in my bedroom. I looked around, confused. Where had the boulders gone? Where was that ... thing? How did it know my name?

"Francesca, are you okay? You look pale."

"Yeah ... yeah, I'm fine."