Poetry

It's been a while since I last a wrote a complete poem. I've got some scribbles down. In the meantime, in effort to become more skillful in my craft I've taken to reading some the well known poets of our time. Tonight I was reading E.E. Cummings and Joyce and ran across this pontification by James Joyce:

"Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt in a certain sense, against actuality. It speaks of that which seems unreal and fantastic to those who have lost the simple intuitions which are the tests of reality. Poetry considers many of the idols of the market place unimportant - the succession of the ages, the spirit of the age, the mission of the race. The poet's central effort it to free himself from the unfortunate influence of these idols that corrupt him from without and within...."

too long...

Lately I've been running (literally and figuratively) around so much that I haven't made much time for creativity. Today though, I headed over to Four Barrel Cafe to meet up with Dan, Bethany, Kyle and Noah for creative indulgence. I had the taste for coffee - so ordered a cappuccino. Now normally, like 95% of the time I don't drink coffee. Not because I don't like the taste - because I do, especially black - but caffeine really affects me. That small cappuccino was at 4:30pm - I sit here now at 12am with my leg still shaking up and down. I digress. I sat with my cappuccino headphones resting my ears, as the beats of Heiroglyphics, NAS and Blacklicious hypnotized me with their rhythmic inflections. As I sat, body bobbbing, I wrote. It was awkward at first, my mind not used to letting the poetic flow drip out through the fingertips. After a spell of minutes the music became fluid and the words came forth. Nothing ready to share at the moment but the start of a few pieces. Now about that thing they call sleep.......hmmmm.

the close of a chapter

When the rain comes down it pours,
it pours upon my head and......

Yesterday rain came down in sheets in Louisville and continued all night long and it was still going this morning as I rose at 4:15am EST to catch the first of three planes on route to Nassau, Bahamas for the next Soularize conference. I sit now in Ft Lauderdale, FL at my 5 hour layover.

Last night was my last show with The Cobalt Season on their midwest, to eastern portion of the US tour. It was wonderful to be with Ryan, Holly, and Paxton -- wonderful as well to see my old roommate Daniel Dixon. Ryan is a true lyricist and Daniel's full sense of music is beyond my grasp. I loved the opportunity to perform some of my poetry and was very grateful for the platform Ryan extended. Last night was probably my personal favorite as it was hosted at Dan's house and the show flowed with sense of emotion. Ryan and Holly sang a new song they co-wrote which was a transparent telling of their relationship as a family and I love the courage they display in sharing openly with strangers. My thoughts are with them as they continue on in the tour.

finally something to work with

it's been a while since I've had a moment of inspiration and last night as I was driving home one finally came. They often come when I'm driving which is fairly annoying as it's difficult to remember the words that come to me as I'm driving.

dim lights cast away shadows
as gray masses of mist float on the midnight blue canvas
thoughts circle by faster than the miles click past

The ghost of holiness rages reality

wrapped in what some call "a metal coffin" I'm suddenly and mysteriously reminded of the reality of freedom and source
the power that beats within my heart

locomotion of thoughts wrestle through the calm center of existence
brought home by love
the power I've been disillusioned with strangely seems real as the blinding contruction lights and orange cones that line the lane next to me
fresh as the midnight air creeping through my cracked window

tireless workers in jump suits and yellow hard hats preparing a safer road for weary commuters struggling to make a way.
negotiating with life and reality
with consequences of choices
restless hearts and and nerves ignored
clamored out by the banging voice of obligation, responsibility and duty

I sense realities of invitation beyond what we see, taste and contemplate
my idiosyncratic mystic behavior
I wonder if it coincides with mental illness
my place just might be speaking words of prophecy
instigating and loving and always forgotten

no super star, no business founder or CEO
simply a maveric apostle on the road of love
acting on the volition of the blowing Spirit
inspiring
running my body ragged
the ghost of holiness,
reality
her breath invades

poetry performed

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZKaYIjwUlUp

a start

Here's a start to a poem:

Hallucinogenic breaths penetrate my lungs
the poverty
drips like sweat from the brow of the salt earth farmer
lining asphalt corridors trapped by the vision that exists within a satisfied soul

a sleeping Giant content with the rest of an impoverished relationship

intensity within

6, 386 miles my legs have spun in circles
335 hours my ass has sat on that seat
7 pairs of shoes the unforgiving asphalt and dirt has beat through
i have ravaged my body for 4,382 hours
in focused pursuit of an eternal soul that never seems to quit
i have not slept, not ate, not shat
to uncover that mystery that swims between muscle and bone
the breath that feeds my heart not my lungs
4 O'clock in the morning the alarm has invaded my sleep
and provoked me to rise
to eat 6 eggs and 3 pieces of toast that resembles bark
walking into the dawn air i slip on
a rubber suit and prepare to punish my body for 12 hours of intensity

there is depth, beauty and power found
outside your known limits
pain, abuse, sacrifice, and discipline are the pathway into mystery
humility the door to power

if you are willing it can be found
but it will cost you your life and friends
enemies will beat on your door
and backs will be turned in misunderstanding

come and follow the steps into
life, love, and integration
flow with the winds of love and desparation

awaken

it's been anounced
the invitation been extended

it lies
in
the breath of our lungs
the beat of our heart


our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the empires and powers of this dark world, against the spiritual forces of evil

the master made it clear his kingdom is not of this world, but from another place

inspired and fueled by his spirit

it's worked out
through our hands
through our feet
channeled through our imagination

it lies
in
the breath of our lungs
the beat of our heart

wake up and rise oh sleeper
that christ may shine

Murmurs

Murmurs
Birthing breaths of recreation swarm around a once still heart
I can feel the images of dignity robbing poverty beat out of my chest
The injustice of ignorant consumers wearing gems birthed from bleeding mothers wombs
Bombs strike in my mind as I contemplate specks of existence
Raging complacent lives of plastic goodness

The call of healer knocks on my heart
and Revolution pumps through my thriving veins

I am sick
I am sick of talking, of writing
and prescribing
There is a jungle thick with adventure and insurrection

Synapses flash as I recall my roots in the greatest revolution and power known
the grinding wheels looking for downward momentum
for a path of inspiration where the choices are clear and the steps immediate

Murmurs
Murmurs of saddition
Terrorist watch lists
and death loom on a closing sought after horizon

Complacency is the lie of death
Cowardice and apprehension its fuel
Daring to dream is the first step beyond breast milk
seeking to love baby food
obedient love the main course of eternity

Feel the pulses and vibrations calling
Fear for you ego, because it MUST be lost
Long for your life, because it WILL be found

Place

I'm in that place again
The crowd has left, the energy dropped
the light
the candle
the quiet murmur of music
These are my companions
in this place

In this place
in this place I long,
for hands to warm
for breath other than my own
for the warmth of other.

It lies beyond my reach
slips through my fingers
Jaded shards rattle around
the emptiness
cut my soul

It's ever evasive
It's ever longing
Waking up with eyes to look at
It's NOT my completion I seek
Rather the THOU in a journey toward completion
WIth every exhale the roots of desire deepen

The beauty of life amplified beyond self
it exists between
I-THOU

I-THOU
come to rest
in this fertile soil
cultivated with love and discipline
in anticipation of your arrival
come to rest
rest

Silence

I returned yesterday afternoon from hosting a silent retreat at my family's place in Kirkwood. I can remember 8 years ago having dreams of hosting a retreat in the wilderness and this past weekend was truly the fufillment of a dream. 15 of us gathered in the place that my family has been laboring on for 6 years and the work was well worth it.

I love entering silence and practicing meditation and prayer. During the retreat I had the longing to be on an extended retreat of silence and solitude. Silence is beautiful but when you enter silence and solitude another level is reached.

Here's a poem that came to me one night as I sat on my mat praying to candle light.

The ancient light flickers by my bed
I'm entranced by it's glow and warmth
It's history beyond my knowledge
the inconsistent flashed moves from side to side and flow into my soul
I'm reminded of the light within
the kingdom seed planted in the depths of my soul
even through closed eyes the darkness is intruded upon by it's presence
with each flash
I sink deeper into the presence of the great
I AM
Beheld by the Creators loving goodness my heart beats like an open vessel
As I elongate my torso, opening chest
my breath grows deeper and fills my entire body
tingles begin at the crown of my head and disappear into my ears
beneath my flowing breath I can hear the rhythmic bass gently beating
I can feel peace enter my nostrils
caressingly moving down my nasal cavity
down the back of my sternum
I feel the whispering center calling me home
calling me to live out my birthright
and with each flash I'm reminded of the sacred space that must remain secret
fwoooooof
As I enter complete darkness
the glow of the wick fades
I'm in the shadow
light within glowing

club deluxe

Poetry flows like wine at sunday communion
hearts spilled forth, spirits raised
Blue and Red jazz notes fill the air
feet tapping, bodies swaying, laughter floating,
It's tuesday night at club deluxe

The words from hearts broken
hearts dreaming
hearts mending
gently spill around my soul
lifting it to new heights

energy pulsates
vibrates
through my veins
i feel alive
i feel inspired

words can only glimpse what swirls around in my mind, and bounces around in my body. poetic phrases drip, like sweet juicy georgia peaches, in my mental notebook. at odd times, they jump out into minds ear. their origin is curious to me and opens me to the realm of reality often hinted at but never delved into. my over worked brain often drowns out the pulsing Spirit that comes and goes like the wind. For me, for me poetry is an avenue, a ticket to jump aboard the flow of that mystic wind circling round my soul. the activity and flow of God is an ever present reality i'm often ignorant of but do seldom taste. moments of timelessness when the communion is real and my heart and soul match the beat and rhythm of His -- and He and I simply are. He is he and me is me and we be.....we be.....we be, just...being....together... and I'm ever grateful.

Understand

After I got back from my 3.5 hr bike ride yesterday I laid down for 20 minutes to clear my mind, woke up and jotted this down:

I'd like to understand
I am that child, the one who continually questions
the never ending string of "why"
why does my spirit rise and fall like the moon
why do thoughts cycle round in my head like bad lyrics
why am i constantly searching
why haven't i found what i'm looking for
why do i ask questions to the air and expect answers
why does clarity escape me
why courage
why, why, why, why, why

Excuse me, can you tell my "why"
Why indeed
Like that child my aim is to understand,
understand, hmmm

Hey where did that kid go,
the one with all the pestering questions?
To the playground to play?!

twin peaks

With the start of training comes the beginning of exploration. On Sunday I rode around the whole city, embarcadero to chrissy field, accross the Golden Gate Bridge, up to the Marin Headlands, back accross the bridge up through Sea Cliff, down the Great Highway, through Golden Gate Park to the Lower Haight and back the Mission. It was a georgous day full of sunshine and radiance. When I'm on long rides or runs time seems to loose meaning at times and I get lost in the moments. Often when I get back it seems like I lost time or something as if my mind and being left and then came back hours later. It's bizarre, interesting ang telling.

Tonight I ran from my flat up to Twin Peaks and there was a similar experience of loss of time. When I'm able to get beyond the pain in my body I leave this world and am encompassed in my own.

My mind wanders through the threads of my life, relationships, vocation, what God is impressing upon me, where I need to grow, and what I'm going to eat when I get done. My mind is something that is never at rest; something is constantly passing through those synapses. There is a difference though between the mulling that occurs while running, cycling, hiking, etc. than occurs when I'm sedintary. It's seemingly productive when I'm moving and though manifest themselves differently.

Tonight the winds were stirring, as
one after the other my feet struck the ground.
Alone.
Alone, above street lights and city buildings
Alone will always be something I carry
Sometimes in my pocket
others on my back
Tonight the winds are blowing the loneliness all around me
I seek to embrace it, to keep it from being blown onto my back

121406

there are worries, wants, and ways
of which I don't understand
moments in life when clarity simply does not exist
it's thematic, cycles of my life
in which tragedies occur
tragedies as a result of my existence

running - futile,
figuring a solution - no avail,

threads of grace weave their way in like interlocking fingers
i'm broken for you my love
your anger rages from my demon
my demon which I am meant to wreslte

it's my good fight
tragically you've come into play
curiousity won you over

life is pulsating tonight
grip it and clinge
rise to it
it can be beautiful

huh?

whispers swing sweetly in the fray
words like honey
emotions like mist

it's overun inside
.........longings
.........wonderings
.........ponderings

rain hisses underneath tires
light intrudes the mood
stuff clutters space

contradictions in flight

thankful

sometimes your floating inside, quietly wandering through the complexities and mysteries of life. in the bewilderment I wish only to sit and allow it to marinate in my mind becoming comfortable with the unsolvable nature of life. there are moments, seasons even that aren't meant to be figured out, that cannot be figured out. no amount of purely sitting, thinking, journaling, praying will lead to an answer. it's needed to be reveled in, lived in for the sake of living in it; understanding that this is life, and it's is no mere easy feat. it's uncomfortable at times, confusing, there is a Spirit that exists though, that is our guide in these times, who walks with us step by step, and I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for the traveling companion that provides tranquility in the midst of ambiguity. It may sound a little trite, but I'm feeling that flow this morning. A force that steers conversation into revealing personal truths and opens doors into our rich nature, and that is beautiful. He is alive and at work among us, thankfully.

rain

my feet are cold from the wet rain
i see it, like white noise on the television,
constantly,
moving
standing still
colors enhanced by the perspiration of the air
it's life breath today
feeding a dormant piece of my soul

i'm in a poor mood

ethereal mind licks just won't do the trick this evening
offered up and laid out
the faint soul feeling played out
insignificane running round wandering
existential angst marinates and bleeds
bleeds to the point of no continueing
coginition found wanting in the aim to please and desire
the search for love significance and what is to come
it's the day to the day that lays the soul bare in the light of plaguing idealism
over emotional burnings, leave yearnings to the curb
done fucked it to the point of leaving even words wanting
it's unbelievable the lies and truths that play like top 40 hooks
simultaneously into the head-bobbing soul of one who seeks that which he does not know
a body abused, an intentional way of life leaving nothing behind
offered up and out, with nothing left
emotional swings from highs of spoken words
to the valleys of mindless work, and insignificance
(added later)
offered left and right to see the surrounding soar like eagles
my own demise worth it if reality it be

poem2

this is a result of the shootings, drug deals, a monthly police meeting and a poetry open mic. I wrote it tonight at the poetry open mic. it may be a little provactive, or harsh. i guess there really was a spirit rising.

********

Bleeding hearts, sniffle and cry
our reflections perpetuating a cycle of mediocrity and brokenness
when will the corner be reached where the imagination reigns and our words create reality through their morphing into actuality
my past remains a lurking ghost informing who I am while I make myself available to change this world

release the imagination

match the intonations of the vocal chords with the pitter patter of your feet wiping the streets clean
let's turn those needles of desire into an invitation of healing
The knock of healer sounds on our door

Abuse your body, your mind, your soul in discpline that truth may be reveled in
redemption brought to the herion alley that sits parallel to my bed, cradling the homies seeking healing in seringes of darkness
that merely leave them wanting more
may we be the beacon of hope loving them to treat the condition of their spirit not merely the milieu of their body
the forces at work hide behind our socio-economic, politically obsessed understanding of the media confused culture we swim in
these are the tools at our disposal to help the orphaned child left buy a wandering drunk father who sleeps on my stoop and looks through my trash seeking whatever will placate the fleshly desire
distracting from the shattered place between flesh and bone where the real demons marinate

Can we raise up?, unleashing our unique artistry that has the ability to channel the master creators energy into healing power
It's a call to move from simply spitting rhythms, singing songs, and egaging in endless pontification
into artistic agents on a mission of hope, life, love and redemption
We will raise up