Upon thy coast
My fortress
Protect thyne Inhabitants
Search I will for any Enemies
Understand who my Allies are
Realize when to leave
Panning out, I will not destruct
Allies are Safe
Friends are Allies
Are Allies Friends.
Est. May, 1988
At first I was to send another
This will do
As I think
Hello
Its David
Similar thoughts
Intrigued?
Sister/Brother
What did I mean by that.
It was your sister
Reminded me of mine/
and I'm her Brother
Telephone conversation
Anyway
I was thinking
while riding
in the back seat
of a very dark car.
8/2/87 3:45 AM
Indianapolis
Seas of desperation, despair, sagging decay
Closer doorward some being entertained, smiles
Retina flash flash flash
Winners are silent
Killed 56 VC said the wheel chaired elder patriot
Smoke is thick on the reservation
George Thorogood playing earlier,
now even more Northern bound, and at night,
contributing to experimental evidence
to justify the truth.
|
Discovered rediscovery, with metropolitan flare, slender beauty erect and alert, recognition even curiosity served by intermittent occultations, we seem to agree.
Does that door work?
| Dione Rhea Occultation |
My heart is beating, beats, beat, beat...
The heart beats, beat, , beat, .
And then the rains begin their quench and moan - as before.
Peace is his, rest now.
| That balance of light and dark, that season that hastens preparation, on that day the drummer and his indigenous chant, complemented by bell ringing, sound to the heaven containing universe, as we each stand facing on the perimeter of the medicine wheel, participating in the ascension to those heavens where all essence returns to be mixed eternally with those who have gone before, anticipating those who follow, as the sun sets in a distant clear sky. |  |
Death as an industry, optimized to be self sustaining, innovation squelched to ensure profit, not life, too often shift workers lacking monastic attitudes of service to anyone but themselves.
Whose life matters but your own, and with age, that glint in the eye, that sparkle fades, eventually we give in to the invading army of bacteria, feeding on their host, as caterpillar eat all the forest, selfishly.
But in my seventy two years, I did this... I did that..., earned a few bonus years, came to appreciate my parents sacrifices for my life, but eventually its "time to die," and my control of that day, that hour, that minute is limited---
One day we will time out before we die for man will invent anti-death, extend life for a time, and for a cost, feeding the industry of death.
| Summer heat prompting late night Monday ride, a short quiet pedal with a failed music mission. Returning to a sitting and silhouetted Doodle at a distance, under the amber mercury lighting, mousing no doubt, his ear titled towards a commotion that is stirred by my quiet entry, another cat, New New, ambles safely on the perimeter of the house. My pause evidenced another silhouette, that of a fox, Ruthie-sized, one of two pestering these cat's owners who worry its apetite might include a smaller cat, although there are still bunnies, there are still squirrel, and our mousers continue a consistent crunchy diet. New nears foxy's size, yet peanut is another story, said the eagle at the cabin on Ada... |  |
I see way back,
men who are proud,
with decorated chests, standing piously,
and claiming territories proven by dominance.
But Envy?
No!
Gazing into the eyes of the repressed,
I see fear,
Why can't there be Love?
Men can be so proud,
or so they think.
More competition it seems...
I Must Be Better, I Must.
It's a suicide mission,
Enemies are made,
and Brotherhood is Our Only Cure
-- Ddm
I thought my garden would be growing full
but I'm just gathering soil.
--- gathering soil ---
I scrape it from my wandering boots,
gather the dust from the streets,
sieve the filth from the air
--- gather it together ---
Then breath my dreams into it,
lightly whisper my spells upon it,
cleanse it worthy of my garden.
--- and ---
Here it is my life one third gone,
but I'm still gathering soil.
--- gathering soil ---
For the garden I thought
would be strongly growing,
brilliantly flowering by now.
--- ... 2011 ---
At twice twenty five with one third ahead,
the wandering remains,
even as my garden bears fruit,
--- still gathering soil, gathering soil ---
With Tina James for Bart James, Louisville