|
Leafless tree under a clear blue sky The sun glittering its only light Rolling round and round by day and night. Right now it's here and then it's there and then it's gone - just for a little while. There's a crystal sea of glass I say it's blue, but that ain't true, it's just a reflection in the water. The water appears to be of a clear green color, but that ain't so, it's just the seaweeds in the sea. |
The sand is soft and white whiter than any snow Washed many times by the waters of a lonesome ocean a crystal drop - a tear - a wave I cry for rain - but I love the sun shinin'. The ocean that I see ain't real the water that I feel ain't wet It's just the crystal glass I see For I am on a mountain top A peak of height and solitude The ocean distant near Only the seagull - flying free Can know the tides - my dear. And from this lofty rooftop I sing to you this song, I speak my words to you, these words of love and sun and warmth - so true. |
|
She whispers nothing I do not know of places where I'll never go alone. Crazy days and starlit nights Even the old pine forest sighs. Say to me - I sigh for you and try to sing a line or two a song so silent beautiful of greatness I know nothing of except that it corrupts [...] |
And yet the stillness of the summer night is wrapped in wasted energy, for you and I are fast asleep holding sacredness too tight - too close to choose when to come or where to go - the beauty of a poem is the music without song. |
|
The glossy fields of golden wheat that harvest fails to call surrounded by a shining string on which my tune composed a song. And all the ears have eyes to see what nostrils can never breathe, just as the sacred blackened earth appears to be a myth. The seed once buried, hidden and unseen could turn into a cherry tree - or a sunflower - I do not know nor wish to hope - it's not for me to decide For it's God who wishes it to grow not you or me or earth or seed It's God who grows the cherry tree - the blossoms for Japan but I question you Hiroshima does the cherry tree blossom stand a chance - after the first atomic bomb? |
The church bells in the village sound but no one heeds their call For it is winter cold and frosty and windy and churches are never heated. The hearts of those who go to pray may be reaching toward thee - unseen God But - and yet their cold hearted blood fails to warm the neighbourhood. Sons and daughters of mothers and fathers join hands - [...] Be you and me as us and them - Their tune of Love may be ours - too - one day. The tune of Love - you rightly ask - I shall try to explain Though unexplainable it's beauty that doesn't stand the chance for pain. Beauty is waiting on us all. around every corner - but dare not peep - for beauty honors the unseen. |
|
It's feeling - that is beauty's heart - that is why Love travels on the speed of light From eye to eye From kiss to kiss In feeling find eternal bliss. The orgasm of spring stems from the rose It's petals cherishing clear water drops First rain - like first love - Rain and rose - deep deep love. Love is true - so is beauty. |
|
Why close my eyes and fail to see? I am listening to your song - my sweet A tune of Love - a song so sweet Meet me in the morning with Love, Kiss me in the evening with Love. Dare to see and dare to feel the circle of eternity. It is not a straight line - it can't be for there's no end to eternity. Doors of Heaven gates of hell - the wind knocks on doors. (You can't knock on a gate). |
|
One crystal tear drop touched my eyes One crystal tear drop moist resting on the birch tree leaf Yet on the other side a beautiful spider sits and waits too sneak out into the light and drink the treasured waters. For rarely do the rivers flood to touch a birch tree top. (Why birch trees and not ancient oakes -- well, that's just the difference, something different and new). Country stories are like books of bearded old men by the brook they wait and stare silently into the waters which have long been deserted by the fish. Their pockets emptied by the rich, their homes robbed broken burned once shelters now give no comfort - no - just coolness. But yet still dream of starry nights What choice is left there to decide Only tents last longer. Picture the colors of your mind there's even color by the moonlight But my favorite's the rainbow. |
Song of the Rainbow and the dancing eagle Wilderness closed in on me The blue sky resting overhead. Dry green scrubs all around I lift my eyes to see through you But all I see is you, sky blue. An eagle spreads his wings and cries or is it laughter, I wonder An unknown sound - a gentle breeze - make me turn right on my heel The pillars of the multi-colored gate touch ocean and mountain A path leads right ahead between "But for the lonesome wanderer there remains this sign of hope that at the end of this toilsome path there is an end to the road - and find a place where I may lay down my head on moss-green meadows - the universe surrenders and surrounds me on all sides and still the multi-colored gate lingereth upon my forehead - Rainbow - reaching toward the sky I cannot spread wings to fly I cannot reach a hand to touch the sky Cannot clasp my fingers 'round the Rainbow Yet close my eyes and behold it silently," |
|
"But for the lonesome wanderer there remains this sign of hope that at the end of this toilsome path there is an end to the road - and find a place where I may lay down my head on moss-green meadows - the universe surrenders and surrounds me on all sides and still the multi-colored gate lingereth upon my forehead - Rainbow - reaching toward the sky I cannot spread wings to fly I cannot reach a hand to touch the sky Cannot clasp my fingers 'round the Rainbow Yet close my eyes and behold it silently," the eagle remains silent - there is no cry no laughter coming now he takes off again in silence becoming ever smaller in the distance until there's only left the Rainbow and me. |
Measuring endless time and fear to meet eternity We live in times controlled by instruments Counter - watches - being early coming late to measure time - that's our mistake - We're not machines - we're people - you and I Can you tell me when you're coming Can you tell me when you're cool If not let me suggest to you Be human and don't act like a machine. How long may kisses last - you can never really say Let's throw out all our time-making machinery - for it's only wasting our time - wasting our lives encouraging our fears "Be late - later - too late" No - never late again Impossible to be late without time. |
|
The voice was falling silent then - No more words needed to explain The observer stood still - thinking 'what then shall I do' A bundle of flames shaped like ten hands took him with them away. Then a rejoicing voice was heard: "Of all the faces that I've seen Of all the minds I've asked 'Tis this only one which returned to me Into the warming center of my heart." After a thousand flames had gone out and been replaced by tens of thousand new ones it had consumed and come to all and all to it - all is now one: Light - Love - Beauty - Truth. Epilogue: The other day I found a strange looking piece of glass - or so I thought. A little flame - tiny small - seemed to burn in the center of this little crystal as I held it before my eyes, watching the sun setting on the horizon. It's just an illusion - I had nothing in my hand - the sun is a crystal ball - it seems like a precious crystal when I hold it between my fingers - try to keep it in my hands illuminating them. Looking up - the sun escaped my hands once again. Dreaming - imagening - just an illusion - an illusion - Return to the beginning of the story and live through it again mystical mistery-illusion. |
| NOTE: For most of my trip from San Francisco to New York in 1989 I was accompanied by a young refugee from war-torn Cambodia. I dedicate the following poem to him. |
|
Thunder rolled across the sky rain-water drenched the grounds the stench of decayed bodies makes its rounds. Grey clouds have veiled a once golden sight Of sunset's kissing the ocean tides. Skulls and bones now cover Cambodia's killing fields where rice once grew abundantly and beautiful children sang happy melodies. The young men and women who once tilled the fields cannot escape anymore the rice paddies, the dams, their houses or humidity. Humanities forgotten loss a power-struggle for "who's the boss", American B52's have turned the country into tombs An undernourished child in tears - she cries while parents in the paddies sleep - they've died a long long time ago betrayed by children their own or others or some pretended muscular hero with a gun across his crooked shoulder No need to hide behind a boulder or piled up sandbags from the beach |
now look monotonous - what sun has bleached. Stale and deserted looks the land of grey leafless trees that still try to take a stand - A stand defiant and courageous against humanities outragedness. A bunch of cars piled on a hill - a heap now fail to sound - the engine's still. Roaming animals around the weeds and trees that grow now in Pagodas where once orange-robed monks prayed while turning a string of beads. It was last sunday afternoon or evening when I went out drunk to dine day dreaming and heard familiar melodies - a sound that reminded me of something I once seemed to have heard and set me thinking till I recalled the tune soundtrack of a movie I'd once seen I leave it for you to think of what I heard and what it reminded me of - it was sad. That is all that I dare add. For I withhold from you the clue - all that I know is that it's true. |
|
NOTE:
The following poem is dedicated to my friend Mary; feel free to visit her beautiful sites: http://www.artsandmusicpa.com http://www.peaceandharmony.org http://www.eyecandee.com |
|
A clown in tears and dressing gown Outraged angry without a sound he steps into the circled sand to face an astounded audience. No cheers - no laughter - no cries or applause His comic cosmic musing muse it all has come to naught as the expression on his face unmasked - the tears have washed it all away He's not smiling - not steering for a funny scene that might turn the audience toward incredulous laughing. Finally, he slowly opens his mouth to speak A prince of ancient history he intends to tell his story. But as he opens up his eyes to see The silence's reason to be here, there is no audience - not a stirring soul or breeze Alone he stands there dumb and ill at ease Asking himself - what mistery is this? Right now they're here then not again |
How can I ever expect to win them over to my side - He further thought and then he sighed. Do not be angry - but be kind Let outrage never enter into your mind For it takes what is there to see and pretends you're all alone at sea Lift up your eyes and kiss the air Inhale the soothing moving good - there's truth in Love and Beauty. Return now to yourself for your own good and meet the audience with attitude Outrage - anger - fear - disgust These forgetting first we must To re-unite us with our souls to learn now what the future holds Not cups of wrath or noble wreaths are gathered by the humble bees but honey for the sweet of taste - and that ain't gathered in the haste so as to feel no time's a waste, but every treasured drop of dew is accounted for - like me and you. As love grows strong and powerful don't fail to feel it - beautiful. |
|
Greet the morning timingly Before you end the day sleepily Admire meadows of lovely green Rivers and brooks seldom seen Where lovers are dwelling undisturbed by modern traffic and other curbs and curfews though they are many fail to roam around the meadows. Silver brook and golden lace of sunshine having the universe embraced. Weeping willows laugh and sing while golden glitter takes its turn illuminating heaven and earth - everything. |
Children singing Sunday rhymes on wednesdays Skip sunday school at holidays Racing down tarred highways cats don't sleep in alley-ways. Sunlight and moonshine met one early early morning while you and I were fast asleep dancing in circles 'round and 'round dared not touch our sacred dreams reflecting love in mountain streams. From where it came it won't return for lessons need no more be learned. |
|
In vain men pursue their desireous lust Searching for gold, silver and diamonds in the dust Of which one eats as little as of rust. Vain professions men pursue which don't fill bellies with any food. Which blind the eyes and seal the mouth Stop the brain from thinking and does harm to the heart - So much unlike bread and water. Essential is only one thing It ain't food and it ain't drink It ain't small and it ain't big and minerals don't bother it. Onle Love survives essentially. |
|
NOTE:
The following poem has been dedicated to my favorite Model: Sung Hi Lee. Visit her website at http://www.sung-hi.com |
|
Enter the sacred garden by the gate and do not ponder - do not wait You're welcome here among the many flowers and ancient trees Sweet singing birds and humming insects. Among the buzzing and the peacefulness - this bliss I dropped to the ground and fell asleep. Overcome by tiredness I fell into a dream. Long-haired women without clothes their nakedness unshamefully exposed. One came close toward me My heart beat strong and heavy She touched my lips with her sweet kiss. |
I felt her breath and touched her breasts gently stroking I caressed them kissed their smooth soft skin 't was at this moment I awoke and realized I was not alone. It was all a great reality We kissed long soft peacefully. I stepped back and realized I stood as naked as she was. Nothing's more imaginary beautiful than the act of copulation on soft green meadows among the scent of multi-colored flowers and the many-fold songs of the birds and the humming of insects. Love in the sacred garden has no beginning or end - is everlasting. [...] Let our soul's sweet kiss embrace us. [...] |
|
Her face is red Eyes filled with tears She drowns her sorrow in a couple of beers. It does not solve your problems, my Love You got to go beyond - above Go to the place where souls are born where living never mourns the dead or death In reality it does not exist. The mind's the soul which travels far beyond the goal you aim at or you set yourself without consulting the nature of maturity of mind that is soul. Therefore one often disagrees with stages and events of life dictated by the will to want and strife The wish to fight a dying death of murder does not find rest in heart or soul and mind, For soul and mind kiss eternity Gentleness - Love - Kindness - Harmony united in the soul of all The soul supreme that guides our minds and stirs all souls like a gentle breeze. Touching and moving - never drifting from the path of Truth and Beauty. |
|
Love Truth Beauty Gentle Kind Harmony Eternity Peace Freedom Sacred - Love - Sacredness Kindness Gentleness Breeze - Breathing Nakedness and naked Light Warmth Souls stirring in the Breeze Light fading - dancing - touching gentle harmony. Two together - silently - holding hands - while sharing kisses sitting naked in the sand on a warm summerday by the beach - What more do you really want? |
|
Arise, oh sleepy child of dawn Observe the sunlight reflecting on the wall ray by ray - light by light - Illumination down the hall Where wisdom's painted everywhere you turn your eyes a gaze - a look - a confirmation of the infinite truth of creation. A picture of a slumbering wild flower Once imprisoned in a tower only one small crack in the wall Where the light forced itself through, right down the hall where it lay sleeping dizzily then suddenly awoke to life and light so bright Nourished by the gods who knew where it was lost - in need of light, to regain its strength. One ray of light stronger than the next Pulled the blossom along down the hall - Right through the crack it squashed and pushed with all its might. When there was no more power left to squeeze Its head hanging tired in the breeze It hadn't yet realized how far it'd gone - right through the crack outside the wall - now split for all eternity. A quiet soft drizzle of rain began to fall onto the fading blossom outside the wall. |
Its head slightly lifted, it looked around Deep into the silence peacefully distant and near - there and here when the sun came smiling through the clouds it hissed a rainbow in the heavens as they bowed A breeze swayed and let the heavens naked stand alone unveiled and ready to spread the one strong beam of light right down into the blossoms inner court where it awakened with a sigh of relief - though only short and briefly - the necessary force to lighten up this inner court and illuminate the blossom's full colors inside and out, happy to breathe freely again. It began the Song of Heaven then. It sang from morning until dawn - sang until its voice had gone. Weakened by this thanks for freedom it decided to go to sleep then. Night then veiled the gentle sky filled with many many a small light traveling from far a distance until they reached the blossom's scent and ... - kissed it. Thus it slept peacefully with nature surrounding it in harmony. _______ |
|
Someone put up a sign on the other side of the wall - in the hall - on the prison wall - which read: Do not disturb - retreat quietly. |
|
Deep dark forest beyond the unknown Ancient trees swaying in the breeze eternally In the center in the woods by a fire in a wooden hut's stoney fireplace Has been living for many years: a family in Harmony On the walls there are no pictures - paintings showing portraits and landscapes But stringed wooden instruments whose strings are strum by the breeze which enters through the open windows and fills the air with the many-fold flowers' perfumed scent until there's no room left for stench to penetrate the heat proceeding from the fire burning brightly in the dark illuminating every corner of the hut with sound gushing out to gently move the quiet peaceful drousy wood. |
Who today is in no mood to hear a wood-chopper's aiming axe of destruction and of death that only the oldest of the trees still tell remembering some of their long forgotten family members who fell just then when they thought they'd left in time with the assistance of the wind who blew their seeds here in a storm then fainted and it let them drop down to earth to sleep and rest until they've grown and to enjoy the childish play of cruising the treetops - let them sway as if they've drunk from the sweet sap which bees deliver right on time every summer since. Moonlight also gets its turn to play hide and seek - a lovely game for a huge dark forest of its size. Jumping back and forth as the treetops sway from side to side. |
|
The most beautiful hour, however, of them all - and they are many are the sunrise hours in the morning as the sunlight penetrates deep - deeper - deeply illuminating everything and the harmonious songs of many birds are sound and seem so loud they may sing for all the world to hear the words of Truth - Beauty - Love. Together with the sound of humming insects, the strumming of stringed acoustic instruments and flowers' scent, radiant colors - oh harmonious rainbow - that's what peaceful harmony appears to me to be. Illumination gives it the final touch That's saying rather little - it's not much. |
There is what you see and what you feel The first refers to everyone, the second's got to be explained, and even that's rather difficult a task I dare not set myself in words but in truth. Let me touch your cheeks Let me kiss your lips Let me kiss your breasts Gently touching softly Perhaps through touch feeling is best explained I touch you gently - you feel warm and comfortable. |
|
I wake up early when the morning is fresh and cool the dawn. Fetch cold clear water from the river that carries it's load for evermore in the bed through which he flows gently winding, catching snow flakes when winter comes around again for years and years without end, just to fill it's loss up again. I saw it as a little brook or as a gentle mountain stream floating through a valley kind and quiet peacefully where children play and Lovers sing to the river's neighbourhood. One day while walking through a misty cloud the sound of water running near came to me ears Gently - softly - quiet - sleeping water lilies singing peacefully while dancing at the young lake's edge. Wooden ship drifting slowly by while Lovers kiss - and say goodbye or is it just "hello"? |
Dawn re-born - re-newed and still untouched Leaves echo in the air yet to continue their journey into the unforseen and distant time from where it then will call again only to return unchanged Just time will slightly re-arrange and become past It's only time that moves too fast as echoes simply prove to point out by hanging from a silken string from which they will re-newed begin the journey thus continued. A journey never ending The echo's silent whisper fails to penetrate into your ear to bring to you the latest song unheard of by the river. - And by you. June '91 |
|
... And friends meet again at newspaper stands recollecting stories of times that have long gone by. A garden of roses reflected against the blue sky the house on the hill where Lovers say "good night", the sea-shore's sleeping sands buried under salty waters' sacred beach. A cloth layed out to white a-bleached A crazy sign - a cross on the hill waiting for the maple-tree to grow there where the moon stands still. Breathe - inhale clear country air Riding into the future on a milk-white mare. An oval table occupied by empty coffee-mugs of brothers and sisters who shared feelings and conversation. |
|
NOTE:
The following poem is dedicated to my friend Mary; feel free to visit her beautiful sites: http://www.artsandmusicpa.com http://www.peaceandharmony.org http://www.eyecandee.com |
|
Maybe time has never been whispered to a silver stream evaporating into foggy steam that fills the forest leaves and leaves the air moist and clear there in the twilight hides the hunted deer. Silent footsteps touch the ground nobody cares to where they're bound. Unmasked in all its nakedness the eyes unveil a sacret bliss a romance - long a thousand miles - Unwinding shielding hiding before destructive time and in the end all that you find are echoes in the forest - a yellow flower's whisper. |
|
The Lionness! High grass hides a family of - I dare not speak out what! - The young ones occupied in child-like play Of pounding and drumming on the ground and occasionally an unheard sound of laughter - joy - happiness - "Be not too loud -" the father warns. She stands erect - leans against the tree and looks toward the clear blue sky puzzled by the branches. Her claws grasp the dry bark of the old tree Slow in motion here she moves takes shelter under the umbrella of the sweet scented cedar. Is this Lebanon or Gaza? |
To her it does not seem to matter. One by one - three cups following her. She heaves them safe under her bosom. Queen of the jungle Lionness of the cedar Sunshine light a light - your light - bring happiness into our hearts that makes us smile so bright and peaceful as a Lionness of the cedar. Blissful summer kissing autumn on the forehead So as if to say "hello goodbye" - you're here to stay - like the Lionness of the cedar. |
|
Plenty-full the wine did flow don't drink the wine using a straw But use your lips - that move to kiss the real drops of intoxicating grape juice and listen to the latest news. Guitar sounds - acoustic strung - echoes across ripe cornfields one by one. Harvest time where are you Farmer - man - when do you come to gather the wheat into your barn. Red ripe apples falling to the ground - echoing a-'clong-clong'- sound. Farmer's lady of the house gather us into your basket before we begin to rot. |
|
All morning the wind is blowing cold and frozen across the sacred pond hidden in the autumn forest. Lonesome traveler puts on his boots and starts to climb the steep sand- path toward the frozen pond. Dry leaves are falling from the trees who in turn sigh in relief released from summer's tiresome burden. A fishing boat left behind on the shore - fixed to an old wooden pole. The noise of cracking fills the air. Of dry branches broken under the traveler's foot? Or of the freezing waves slowly creeping into its winter-position there on the freezing pond. As the moon rises up into the night an eagle makes his last round of flights before lost in the darkness he falls asleep where no-one cries - where no-one weeps. |
|
NOTE:
The following poem has been dedicated to my favorite Model: Sung Hi Lee. Visit her website at http://www.sung-hi.com |
|
Did you ever wake up to the song of a thrush singing happily in the early morning hour - there standing on your window-sill? You gently sleepily begin to rise and see the first sun-rays' early light of dawn that creeps across this brand-new summer-morn'. Forest - green and colorful flowers dash through your mind in a gushing flight. Open your windows wide and smile - let the early morning breeze gently caress the nakedness of your sweet breasts. Storm swiftly into your rose garden your nakedness revealed under a thin white curtain garment. Dance among the beautiful flowers of all colors - and behold - God's gate - the rainbow dangling right there over your head. Birds and bees and butterflies will join you through your dancing day - will be with you right by your side. He wore a long white gown and his bare feet touched all that you can see - mountain water - running brooks - green dewy grass - highways - sidewalks - passes - peaks and valleys. Now He knocks on your door - gently - Will you open or are you afraid? Afraid of who or why or what or how and when, if you don't open now, anyhow, he'll return some other time again, for he's the |
Rain descended swiftly - falling from the drifting white cloud overhead as I lay sleeping on the lawn dreaming of the children's play - their poetry and nobody - their song and muse - their fun and games and unspoiled innocence that schools and universities distort - make the young with penis march walk and kill to the sound of drums in justification of patriotism and nationalities that are just the hypocritical inventions of mad mentalities - called authorities or governments or such regimes that I give the umbrella- name submachines. Lovely is the smell of rain and dirt mixed into a lovely harmony - a choice of nature undivided against itself such as man's will trying fatefully to clear himself of being guilty of universal suicide. A rings divine harmony runs in a sacred circle such as autumn winter summer spring to mix the seasons such like some herbs that flavor your favorite dish. Do you like GARLIC? Open the door to your room and look around for something pink I see your lips of faded red - a wonderful sweet pink! enough to make me touch them with a gently kiss - what do you think? |
|
Gentleness is summer's gift - Soft-colored flowers Soft green grass Swiftly swinging butterflies the red-yellow spider even catches your eyes. Songs of thrush, blackbird and sparrow Fills you to the marrow. |
|
Rocking gently on the ocean's waves a wooden ship that escaped the grave error of humanity to blow itself to peaces - or pieces? Father - mother - and three young children have fallen fast asleep exhausted from a fateful flight when stormy red colors filled the distant horzion - they thought it was sunrise - didn't think about the nuclear waste of time under- estimated at its prime. Just managed to get down to Scarborough - grapple with a knotted rope untangled finally freedom came - who knows for how long. |
Why do we blow each other to pieces when we could have a cup of coffee together - and a good chat - I don't even know you yet. Shouldn't I know you before I blow you and your family up? I don't want to blow you up - I love children just too much - just too much - just too much! Does your blue passport give reason enough for me and my green one to hurt you? Let's put them on the table and see their colorful fight. I tell you, I never saw passports fighting, only those who believe int their nationalities - an idolized belief of unmoral "leaders" - and "leading" the printers of passports - what a joke! |
|
NOTE:
The following poem is dedicated to my friend Mary; feel free to visit her beautiful sites: http://www.artsandmusicpa.com http://www.peaceandharmony.org http://www.eyecandee.com |
|
There's a gentle knock on my garden door. I gaze through the crystal-colored glass deep - deeper - right into your lovely eyes and take a fanzy to your smile those lovely lips I'd like to caress - gently while you softly breeze the sacred air of innocence that caught your eyes at early sunrise. "Why don't you open?" a sweet voice asks and carries me back to the senses I felt before I was over- taken by the franzy mood. Unlock the latch - pull back the chain - into my chamber you enter again and bring the scent of morning dew - I realize long overdue - it's not the declaration of independence, but the feeling of interdependence that matters. You need me as I need you to share our Love, like morning dew touches each single blade of grass - no matter how big or small - I think the dew just Loves them All! |
|
A Seagull's happy laughter rides across the ocean! While ebb and flood play the game of "motion" dancing to the light of the moon - sometimes late - sometimes too soon. The beach deserted except for the rocks where seagulls 've taken shelter to watch as the ocean waves grab more and more of the sandy beach. Moonlight dancing on the water just like the distant wooden ship. Hey - day-dreamer, where are you headin'? Hey - day-dreamer, where do you go? Just follow the seagull-wings out- stretched Dancing slowly The sky's on fire - morning glow - Seagulls flying to and fro |
Their happy laughter fills the air Carries the echoes higher and higher, higher and higher To where there's no return Couples dancing all along the shore Greeting a happy day once more. And inbetween the moving feet The sound of seagulls'laughter echoes sweet and adds the flavor to the newborn day A feeling of Love Fun and Happiness The seagulls' magic majestice. A table lain with bread and wine Enjoy the feast - don't count the time - don't count your days and months and years Like the seagulls just be happy to be here and smile and hear their happy song - their tune of laughing laughter all day long - a whole summer 'round. |
|
Clear ideas like clear blue skies that humming birds circle in their sacred flights Above green trees on young autumn nights I wish they'd fill my mind, my eyes with tears my lips with smiles my heart with Love for you old friend ! Sacredness unveils the floorboards where you stand naked in the full moonlight of a young lover's sweet warm summernight. My eyes meet yours and yours meet mine. There we stand to kiss in a long drawn silence of the room - that is the universe - all around us it circles and dances like the glow worms dancing around young sweet scented flower blossoms - until at last I am encaged in your sweet warm swelling bosom. |
Colorful flowers blooming all over your garden A face of smiles - of many miles - unspoiled part of the universe where silence dwells hidden underneath some sacred rock - at morning's dawn a frog does croak. Through the crack in the wall ants climb across at their own pace down the other side - on investigation - to see if the pale moonlight is strong (or weak) enough to put a stop to their flight. But as they reach the other side plastered with the ivy twining they find themselves greatly surprised - and yet - they sing in a chorus-line "we've made it." |
|
Let's go down to the castle ruins yonder where we slept peacefully the other night Awakening to the morning-starlight illuminating the same horizon that was there before we fell asleep among a bed of tulips in the hay which someone had left there in his flight - away from matters of ancient time. Are you to scared to understand what you're afraid to ask - my friend ? Fear not - though sacred heart of doubt as you trust that it'll rain down from heavy a cloud gushing down the mountain stream fresh new water - cool clear clean ! Heralding snowstorms on a warm summer night Is like praying for rain to fall from clear blue sky. It matters not how much you care - or I for that matter - It doesn't matter how tall you are - maybe how small - how skinny - male or female You can't be asked by authorities which gun you'd like to kill with For as a peacemaker - lover - friend it's a matter of Nonviolence you just can't kill again. It's not life not death not me or you that counts as each individual's breath makes the world go 'round in smoothened circles among the crowd we move swift silently beyond our knowledge - unknowingly. Outwitted by this age-old trick you've finally come to the end of all your wit and also of stupidity - just vanished so indefinitely. Some questions raised which answers knew, before they were put forward just seems to be confusing you. Confusion is the name of an old and tricky game that's always played by governments and crooks alike even though they'd face opposing sides without opinions as they strive to find solutions that'll never solve the reasons of divinity. There are facts that just won't harmonize No matter how stupid or how wise you may pretend to act upon the knowledge you can never gain to know alone just by yourself perceived and overtaken by some thoughtless speed - or speech ? |
The frozen lake - an isolated island - a castle ruin - the cry of a crow - Frozen silence - I stand amazed and open-mouthed - unable to utter a single sound. Afraid to crack the silence of the frozen air I stand aloof - ... just stare ... into the distant sacredness of calm and quiet peacefulness. The crow repeats its circling flight and lands very close nearby on a leafless branch of a lonesome tree which so far managed to survive the cold golden frozen winter-time. Young summer love flies whispering to the wind Revealing secrets one never seems to be able to grasp. Falling asleep amidst the scent of colorful flowers there below the old oak tree displaying fresh green summer- leaves, and far beyond the song of a lark once again amazed I gaze at the deep blue sky. Always escaping so as to find myself again standing at the other end of life and you and me and Love - so true - so true - Without wings to fly the thought takes off It whispers to the innermost chambers of the mind "There ain't no use escapin' if time's not left behind - forever." A line carved by someone in the sand at the beach near the rocks where the tide deposits shells of different sizes read: "When will you come for me." As flood turned to ebb-tide the line had faded away - being carried to another shoreline of another land - or country. Perhaps it will return to you someday. |