Reality

I Am Water

Rain drop to river joins,
Routed to the sea
The drop journeys
But stays self-same
One can not be lost
When to the source
We are rejoined
Though our salientness
May alter and our
Temperature may adjust by degrees
Even when solid ice or wafting steam;
Mist or fog
The drop remains itself
The memory of water
Imprinted with silt and varied terrain;
Demonstrates to stone the stronger
Where soft sacrifices the solid, stone
Erode and shaping landscape
But without malice
For the flow and motion is what we are,
Like landscapes ever changing
Forced upon flames to extinguish the furnace of fires flickering energy
Spread into the atmosphere, the universe,
Earth, air and ocean
There within it all
A constant
The self free of rigidity
As even the most
Solid of ice surrenders itself
After holding for a short while
Vapor, condensation, the drop reforms
Falling to the earth,
Flow to the river
And join the sea
This is our unity
The whole that binds is as well
The surging surf or refreshing shower
The nourishments to all living things
I am water
Eternal I shall flow.

Edmonton, AB, Canada

Nietzsche on the Mountain

The abyss stares harshly

Back at me

Just like Nietzsche said

Tried to climb the mountaintop

Now I cling, slight slip

I’m dead

You pushed me forth

Up to the peak but

Pushed me off the ledge

Crimping on my only hold

Into manikin crack, fingers wedged

The crag is cold

The wind is harsh

The altitude is steep

No matter how hard I try

I don’t understand

The fate I’ve reaped

Rocks crumble

Like my spirit

Awash in cascading scree

The air is thin

I cannot breath

Envious of the trees

That cling to cliff

With little soil

Little nurturing do they enjoy

I should have so much more

In this life – not possessions- but qualitative joy

As I fall into the void

They bend and withstand

Taoist in their nature

Spiny needles are blades to the brutal breezes

That scorch and scour

Cut and gouge raw the resilient rock

These metamorphic walls

My bloodied fingers can set me free; release-

Can’t endure this futility

The falling flight

Would make me free

For a final fatal moment

“We love life not because

We are used to living but

Because we are used to loving”

Is what Nietzsche said

But I am not a superman

Already I feel dead

“No one can construct

For you

The bridge upon which

Precisely you must cross

The stream of life,

No one

But yourself

Alone” said Fred

“Whatever is done for love

Always occurs beyond

Good and evil”

But it’s love or “love” that stranded me here

Clinging for what,

I don’t even know anymore

“One can promise actions,

But not feelings,

For the latter are involuntary.

He who promises to love forever,

Hate forever or be forever faithful

To someone is promising something

That is not in his power”

Thus Nietzsche spake

He went mad, meandering mountain moraine and passage tracks

I feel myself follow in his tread

Stepping in shit, to where I now hang

And cling and cry for reprieve

To be relieved

Of the heaviness flexing my fingers

And pressuring waxy palms

Slipping,

scraped and scabbed

Burned by the glacial reflected sun

This is all too familiar

Too familiar

Too familiar to me.

Edmonton, AB, Canada

Break-up

 Numbed mind

Feels little pain

Vacuum of emptiness

And rejection stings

Like a fish hook in the heart

Brutally ripped free.

The fight has been long; a half a century

Hooked, led, let-down lies

Wooden spoons and spit and abuse

Never good enough for anyone,

Not even myself

Some see beauty, they don’t see the sweatshop floor

Where long hours laboring

Without light; cramped knuckles, bruised from

Beating the walls of such a confined space.

This is where I have been produced and where I am deposited, worthless, every evening-

This has been my life; a product no one wants;

Like all things – disposable

Even my boot finds that single mound of shit

Upon which to tread within a vast field from man’s best friend;

Symbol for my life

Trying to see the beauty;

But everything lets me down;

Too many facts for this to be just self-pity

So why do I continue; persist – carry forward?

Because it’s all I know.

There isn’t a drag deep enough or a bottle with sufficient volume

To make me ok;

Chocking on them as I do platitudes and well-meant messages of:

Hang in there, you’re so great, look at all you have…

….to have…

I have material wealth and moderate health, save the PTSD

But our actions are our only possession;

Relationships and experiences are what truly bring life joy

And that is where my deprivation sits,

Smothering my mindful breaths.

My introvert mind;

Blinded and terror of shallow small talk

I need substance;

A life like a rich novel

Where is the evidence to love one’s self

When no one else seems to? Don’t they see

This brutal contradiction?

So much lip service and inspirational quotes that

Simply affirm your brokenness…

I wish I could adjust healthily to this profoundly sick society; but,

Like Krishnamurti says, that is not a measure of good health.

I don’t care. I want to be stupid and live blindly

Because being awake only leads

To greater disappointment

And unreachable dreams

…can’t afford to dream, can’t afford not to

So for now I just am. Let

The ocean

Take me on its ebb and flow;

Toss me through the current

To either drown or wash up on a distant shore

Well beyond the earth’s curve

Away from all and myself

To crave the peace of the drowning man,

But my body isn’t ready for that quite yet

The cuttings of my remains remain on the floor,

Hoping someone will collect my scraps and transform them into something joyful,

Loved and living;

My scraps are tattered yet rich.

In all things there lies potential;

Stitch me up, tattoo my story with the needle

And, just perhaps, a light will turn on and I

Will see Confucius’ message that

“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone see it”

It transformed the albatross laden Mariner

In Coleridge’s Rhyme,

But my albatross still weighs heavily on my neck

Dropping like lead into the sea not quite yet

As Life and Death roll the dice

And I remain to tell of this wretched tale.

Edmonton, AB, Canada

Waking in the Wilderness

dawn is breaking
crack the eggs
cast iron pan
on crackling flame
liquid drops
solidify
walls of craggy mountain peaks
form the walls
of liberty
not like a cell
walls of freedom
and opportunity
this is where I find myself
this wilderness
spiritual, sublime
I wish I would wake up
to this everyday
trails to blaze
and peaks to climb
ascend my mind
from its decline
burning in my legs
welcomed sensation
I can push myself
here, my fears dissipate
be one with all
wildflowers alpine meadow
and the moment
a person needs this wild reprieve
satiates my deepest needs
the urban has
left me so run down
forks full, morning energy
bittersweet
steaming strong coffee
a crust of toast
and I'll be on my way spirit creatures
raven, elk,
the moose and black bear
guide me here
ate the weather's mercy
this is the way
that life should be
tired of the city walls
that span my days
concrete, fall,
bustle traffic
stops, standing still
we were never meant
to move this way
society sick,
urban decay
please leave me in
my freedom and
my peace
feels so safe
to be naked here
the fireweed
red on on cliff sheer
palaited woodpecker
pounds a rapid tune
to live and sleep
beneath the stars
free from sirens, rushing cars
reminds me of
just who we are
liquid drops
solidify
I need to be where
I feel whole
shit in the woods
not porcelain bowl
to make a nest
in this place so dear to me

Edmonton, AB, Canada

Efficiency of Flying in a V Formation

The air it seems to fluctuate

Between frigid, crisp and cold

Summer’s lost humidity

The cold seeps from the poles

Another autumn walking here

Feet shuffle through the leaves

It’s part of nature’s carnage

But too beautiful to grieve

Life it has its cycle

And we are merely part

Of a circle that spins, and we hold on

Life seems more a mystery

The closer that you look

Blinded by our arrogance

Because we wrote the book

A tender heart and worlds apart

The geese flock south in V’s

As we age, experience more,

The end, and then we grieve

A motor in a bicycle

Controversy for the day

I just want to ride my bike away

We make commitments

Make our judgment

Fly by our own way

But something heavy in the air

Left me grounded today

I wish like wind and yielding tree

That I could take the strain

Instead I feel a broken bough

In the mud beneath the rain

The birds that flock so high above

Mammals ready for sleep

Oblivious deities we don’t believe

But pray our souls to keep

Post cards, photos, Instagram

The adventures we’ve been through

Why do I look so much older now,

And, hey, why don’t you?

The tribulations of these days,

Built on months and years

There was lots of joy in them, mixed with pain and tears

I long for the return of summer wings

The flowers in their bloom

Dreading winter’s darkness

Weaving patterns lightless on a loom

I can’t offer wisdom

Nor express what I feel

Stuck in between my head,

My heart and my ideals

Reality so perception based

The moment of the day

But propaganda, self-sabotage

Fight to see another way

Seasons and its cycle

Cycle through the snow

Where it ends

I guess we’ll never know

The leaves they yield to frost covered

Snowy tegument

Don’t know where I’m going from where I went

Precious time and solitude

Can be a wondrous, mindful thing

But I long for a flock who’ll carry me when I can’t sing

Edmonton, AB, Canada

Navigation

Our bodies;

Home to so many creatures;

Microscopic

Psychologic

We are the captain of our ship;

Perpetual mutiny clashes upon the decks

And oceans fluctuate; ferocious, facile

Captain Ahab’s and our Moby Dicks;

More like Ismael; sole survivor;

The mariner gnawing forearm flesh

Scarlet drink – “a sail!” assail

The cursed tale-

Squint to see the beauty

While ugliness rears its hideousness like the

Flashing of a blinding Y shaped fin

Smashing the surface; rougher, rougher, tumult to the placid plane,

Previous without ripple

Cephalopod lashes its kraken limbs; suckers grip and pull;

Submerged….

Shark myth; Spielberg and “Jaws”

Everything plays on irrational fear;

The docile sea snake ; Satan’s servant

Life and Death gamble for the crew with loaded die

Like a scurvied sailor soused on rum

The albatross;

Be wary

Of the recourse pursued

When a seabird shits on you.