In the beginning

Some folks believe they praise the Lord, By telling all in words quite awed, Of how he made the world, pre-packed, Ready-made and instant fact. Now when I look around in awe The things that really drop my jaw Are not what's mummified, unchanging But all the miracle rearranging. Improve, progress and better grow. In that's the wonder that I know. In seeing seed to blossom sprout: Here creation's victory shout. A mind that can all worlds expand From singularity small as hand. Now there's true source of majesty Endowed with cosmic liberty. To shrink down gods to size of man Is blasphemy deserving ban. To credit gods with tiny vision Is to treat them with derision. This cunning snare of the deceiver, There to trap naive believer. When creation's tale was written Already fruit forbidden bitten. But this, like all, is just some verse. To treat as fact, that's the curse. Its simply fuel for the mind. To feed on as own truth you find

Dream Lover

Within her cold and unshared bed The maiden tossed in fitful slumber, Her mind consumed by wish to wed The object of her awe and wonder. She had but once his face espied, As she looked down from room to yard. A love like hers can't be denied, But he knew not, paid no regard. To her delight, in fitful drowse, With heart afire and loins aweep, Her hero did her heart arouse, Crept into bed to join her sleep. His touch awoke what so long slept, The serpent coiled within her womb. His hard embrace she'd fain accept, To plant the seed, and touch the bloom. As dawn lit up the Eastern sky, The maiden woke with pained regret. The lover of her dreams - a lie, And she was still a virgin yet.

Silent Words

Through ages past and more to come Many words of love are spun, Their authors hoping to enshroud With vivid words, love's boiling cloud. And yet what do those words impart, To the innocent virgin heart? Like signs found from some long dead race, That hint at paths they cannot trace. What well-turned phrase, what image bright Can recreate climactic height? What words so sweet or spicy hot, Can bring to mind what taste knows not? The one who knows, though sweet of tongue, To virgin heart sings phantom song. The bud blooms into crimson flower Where seed was sown in earlier hour. To those who know, fine words remind. But all the rest, the words leave blind.

Streams

Into a single river's flow
Only once your step can go,
This a truth, some wisely know.
 But all of life is passing streams,
All return, nostalgic dreams,
Going back's not what it seems.
 Each journey leaves its trail of dust,
You may be left with clinging lust
Or simply worn-out, rotting rust.
 So when we reach our rendezvous,
It is not I, it is not you.
We are two travellers anew.

The Well of Life

Entering the secret valley, 

Drawn blindly to life's fountain head, 

Within the canyon walls, I tarry, 

Their awesome inward press, ahead. 

The cool dark silken smooth embrace 

Of cleft high cliffs that over tower 

Conceals from chance this shrine's pure grace, 

Yet guides the chosen to its bower.

 

The moist warm air thrills, rich with scent. 

Intoxication swift beclouds the mind, 

Of any who would risk ascent 

And hope the deep veiled grove to find. 

Here tangled jungle find, dense-grown, 

Around the sacred path whose way 

By one lone priestess only known, 

An occult mystery, 'til this day. 

Prostrating at the ritual mount 

Upon its niche, my lips to lay. 

This rite of passage to the fount 

Where ever ecstatic ripples play.

Softly Touched

We met across a word filled space.
Our verses writhing interlace.
Where flesh can't join, our thoughts instead
Cavort and grope on cyber bed.
 With cunning words and soft bon mot
Our tongues each others secrets know.
Each consonant crisp stands firm and strong,
Awaiting mating vowel song.
 Carrying word-wrought subtle art
Will my tongue your stanzas part?
Could my phrases, silken voiced,
Arouse you, touch you, hotly moist?
 Will its throbbing pulsing beat
Light within a fireless heat?
From my lips soft words will flow
Giving yours a liquid glow.
 With Sapphic literal intent,
New pleasures for you I will invent,
And seek with rhythmic steady pace
To add a blush to creamy face.
 So, with Wilde, our minds collide
And seek out fun in the countryside.
Exclaim, with deep-filled pleasure horde:
Oh! Your pen is mightier than his sword

Emptiness

From distant past Man has asked "What does it mean?" "What's the goal unseen?" This sad refrain, Of empty pain, Reveals to all A life that's small. As if into an upturned hand Is piled some hard and gritty sand Concealing from the owner's sight A diamond's shimmering radient light. The seeker scans the distant sky, With hope to see some priestly lie, Distracted from present. Look! Within yourself, not musty book.

Intimate Embrace

When I walk into an unlit room I know you're there by your perfume. It comes to greet me waft by waft Diffusing without need of draft. As though in form of tenuous ghost Intangible amorphous host Your presence fills the darkened space, Surrounding all in your embrace. So when I dive into your cloud I am within you, deep inside. Your essence spreads from wall to wall Like woven web its wisps enthrall. Your sweet seductive voice, though fair, Is simply ripples in the air, Compressions driven through the gas Without which no sound would pass. The image of your lovely form By speeding quanta it is borne. It's only what you don't absorb That reaches to my optic orb. But odours are more intimate Free molecules that emigrate. Your substance, loose, my flesh surrounds My very breath with you abounds. In public places we conjoin Each nose in touch with scented loin. No monogamous restraint For each enjoys the others taint. From the room you have departed Fragrance still has been imparted. This privy truth you must allow I still abide within you now.

Ego

An empty field, an open place
Uncluttered, lacking hedged embrace.
An open space, wide, wild and free
Warm sun, wide sky, wind spread – pure glee.
 Then thought arose, original sin,
Who knows from where it came creeping in,
‘If this were mine alone, for evermore,
And I would here abide behind closed door’.
 No sooner had the grasping thought gained form
Than I became assailed by fears, new-born.
‘What if I should lose this chosen site?’
Acid anguish did my whole heart smite.
 What can be done to save my Eden,
How can this paradise be hidden?
Protecting wants consumes my time,
Naught remains of bliss sublime.
 The high, hard granite castle curtain
Ensures my life – and death – are certain;
Titanic efforts raise each ward
None may plunder what I guard.
 Yet when I look, what I grasped has gone.
What sign do I find of freedom?
None.

Green

How can a word, alone and stark,
On such a mission dare embark?
'Green' to one who knows but dark:
What will they know of lawn or park?

What wordsmith could pretend to you
Within their verse was just one hue,
But rather in the mind that knew
Already shades of green and blue.

The thusness of a colour's flush,
Unique to every tree and bush,
It chromatic newness, lush,
Say to ashen verbiage, 'Hush!'

To reduce all such to 'green'
Thin, undernourished - sadly lean.
The very lexicon's too mean,
Squeezes nature - crushed, obscene.

From full sun to thundercloud
With spectral range thus broad endowed
Speaks to the soul but not aloud
Unfettered by mere words, uncowed.

Within a shroud of bark interred
Was Merlin's magic doomed, ensnared.
So verdancy in cage of word
Is sentenced to a fate absurd.

The logos does the soul demean.
Oh, weep for those who see but 'green'.

The Well of Souls

Down in their dark, and fetid, pit 

The well frogs sing and glumly sit. 

They live contented, darkly damp 

Croaking praise to their well-top lamp 

Viewing the world through a narrow hole 

As short of sight as the earthy mole 

Their minds grew narrow, lacking light 

New and strange brought no delight. 

A frog who knew the world beyond 

Had fallen from a wind-touched frond

Plunging to eternal doom 

Trapped within this narrow gloom 

Her fate from many years before 

Was now the stuff of froggy lore 

The half-remembered truths she told 

Into cosmic myths they'd mold. 

 

And now the truth of primal frog 

Was lost inside dogmatic fog 

All frogs knew that far beyond 

Lay the heavenly world of ... Pond. 

 

Some said that on a still clear night 

The sound of Pond you'd hear, you might. 

But what all frogs knew for a fact: 

The means to visit Pond they lacked. 

 

The light and Pond were for the dead, 

So the frog chant rightly said 

Their fetid pit was life-long price 

To spend forever somewhere nice 

 

Down into the well flew flies 

Who hummed in praise of wider skies 

Who told of endless world, immense, 

Bright and free - not darkly dense. 

 

By night frogs sang of the hand on high 

That sent down food from dark blue sky 

They praised with all their visionless hearts 

The power above their lowly parts. 

 

Tales were told of the questioning few 

Rumours spread from those who knew 

Whispered quiet from mouth to ear 

Tales the elders cursed with fear. 

 

Those who asked too loud of light 

Had eyes poked out to help their sight 

Right thinking frogs had a single voice 

'Better blind than make wrong choice.' 

 

And daily came their feast of flies 

Handed down from heavenly skies 

The flies hummed tunes of open space 

And frogs ate flies to show their grace. 

 

Risking life and six-fold limb 

To spread the word to the darkly dim 

The flies gave all and set it naught 

To save one frog in dogma caught 

 

The flies knew how the world revolved 

To rescue all the lost, resolved 

By meteoric living, short 

To those with minds, they amply taught. 

 

Down below in their half-lit mirk 

Each elder frog appeared to smirk. 

While up above, flies hummed of Hell 

And warned the world 'gainst the froggy well. 

  [Dedicated to fundamentalists of every shade].

Addiction

The glint of eye, the charm of smile
And comely curve of body shape
The pusher's pill does not beguile
One half as much to thwart escape.
 The dealer draws to you to the highs,
Dependence silent in the deal.
When your sweet prison is her thighs
The tendril chains desires conceal.
 Each new fix, nails you down harder
Each cosmic buzz, another clasp.
Each tender touch incites your ardour,
Each sweet embrace, an iron grasp.
 Down you crash through floor and earth
Each downer drowns in pits of gloom.
Just one more touch would give life worth
One tender word would disentomb.
 No food or drink is she to you,
Angelic dust of wild excess,
Her fires run through your tight sinew
With flames that leave you bodiless.
 The lust that lights the path to passion
Within black shadows shrouds a ghoul.
The face and form you'd never ration
Feasts on your soul - oh, love-lost fool.