The Form of Sound

The sagebrush goes on forever.

interspersed with pockets of concrete and steel.

a gentle toxic haze over all.

brown and red

the color of shit and blood.

Ahhh… Arizona

Poetry

I have one thing left to say
my words fly off my pages
to the rhythm of my heart
beating into eternity
in time with my breath
my voice wavers
imperceptibly
with each opening and closing
of the valves that move my blood
held together
I stand before you
my body
by dream and thought created and maintained
the four elements, combined in the crucible of life
charged with that which cannot be
I pulse and radiate
heat, sound, light. electro-magnetics
I eat
and I am eaten
a part of that which cannot die
animated by love and magic
I live

Poetry music, philosophy, poetry

9 times 11

45 the ages of man written in the annals of time

the somnambulist spills his cup on the streets of the apocalypse

the hero runs rampant amongst the stones of the philosophers

the fool falls madly off the precipice of reality

unknowing of the rainbow

bringing winds of change to the cities of man

striking fear in the heart of the diplomat

with the freedom of a soul unfettered by the chains of conformity

inspiring the vagabond to set his sights

upon the horizon of the unknown

Poetry

Aching for deliverance

my freedom toils upon me

I seek to find myself

beyond the realms of consequence

tomorrow brings another chance

a fresh beginning in the dance

my life unfolds in endless dreams

of catalysts and running streams

of freedom for all sentient beings

I wonder what that really means

Freedom is a choice they say

a gift, a task, a part to play

I wonder what they really say

at home after a long, hard day

Let freedom ring!

let freedom through!

Today I’ll just be free with you

Poetry

What once was

will be

All these things come together

within the fold

of time and space

consciousness gives rise

to the ten thousand things

embracing the joys and sorrows

of an everunfolding creation

What will become of us?

Who is to say what will be?

Every day another piece of the puzzle falls into place

What time is it anyway?

I’m guessing, just to be sure, why not.

Poetry