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Poetry

This category contains 14 posts

“California”

I came across this video and was struck by its profundity. Every single frame, note, angle. I don’t have the words to describe it. This is the song of my soul and the essence of my existence. Regardless of the artists’ intent, this underscores the meaning of everything we need to know, about everything.

Plus, it’s a damn good song:

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Va0ezWC2du4&feature=share&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DVa0ezWC2du4%26feature%3Dshare

Revolution

drinking-fountainNo one dared mention “the incident.”

A month had passed. The fountain, decorated and enshrined, as if suspended in time.

I imagined future generations, hundreds of years from now, visiting this spot, and reminiscing.

This is where it all began. Ground zero.

The price was high. I often wondered, what value is one life, which ignites revolution?

The janitor knew.

“The time has come. I will lead.”

The whirring hum lay silent. Silent as the procession of students walking past.

Revolution.

The word was on the face of everyone.

Revolution.

It spread beyond the walls.

Fountains unplugged. Every school, every office, every municipal building.

Revolution.

They will be coming for us.

The incubus of germs, vanquished at last.

New water coolers. Pure, refreshing, non-metallic taste.

“He was brave. We will honor his sacrifice.”

The faint smell of mountain streams, the burble of brooks…

Revolution.

They were coming. We were ready.

First Flight

seagulls-wicklund“I can’t. I’m afraid.”

You’re a gull. You must.”

“But my wings are weak, and the wind is strong.”

I will be right behind you. I will catch you if you fall.”

The young gull spread his wings and felt the earth fall beneath his feet. The breeze brushed along his feathers and led him down a leisurely spiral towards the sea, his heart racing and voice screeching as he eased onto the sand.

The mother gull swooped past and unleashed a proud squawk.

The youngling somersaulted in the wind, snagged a crab, and disappeared into the sluggish dawn.

Seconds

the_second_hand_shop-1He found her at the second-hand store. They wed soon thereafter, honeymooned in Vegas, and settled for a brief life together.

Hand-in-hand they walked among the trees and along a quiet green meadow, resting beneath a weeping willow by the stream. She laid her head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for buying me. Sorry we won‘t have more time together.”

He kissed her forehead, held her close, and whispered, “I’ve loved a lifetime from the moment I found you.”

The evening sun settled into dusk. The two forms blurred into one and disappeared into the night.

friday-fictioneers

Swinging

swinging ChallengeThe elderly couple exited their tiny cottage, walked hand-in-hand amongst the tall hardwoods and followed along the narrow country road. They paused on the bridge, tossed some pebbles into the creek, and continued to the pond swings, where they released hands, sat down, kicked their legs, and became little kids again for one brief moment.

Lilies

A summer breeze, born between two pressure points and driven by a dream, meandered delicately along the tree-lined rims. Its wind stroked the feathers of finches and dipped in the dew. The lilies swayed in rhythm of each windswept whirl, surrendering petals and stems to the breeze. It gathered its gentle gusts upon a grave, where a girl on her knees prayed for a sign. The breeze brushed along her back and, in the softest of touches, placed a dozen lilies in her hair.

Lillie McFerrin Writes

Soulstuff

Susurrations of the soul intensified with time. Music and rhythms waxed and waned and rounded thrice. Forms of consciousness swirled and cooled in spiritual broth, traversing the senses like petrichor and summer rain, vexing vainglories and self-servitude.

Surreal and serene, a Jovian chorus emanates from magnetized plasmatic fields, a bow-shock of Spirit and Cosmic Stream.

Like children castigated by karmic conscious strings, we focus and transcend locality beyond limits and time; Sine Qua Non for souls, inebriated hearts and maudlin moods and all things specious and sad.

We rise and then we fall, stardust-covered we breathe the morning light, immersed in photons, particulate waves of matter and energy, we breathe the incantation with each breath of life.

Transcendent we become. Bathed in splendiferous waves radiating from the sun, outward from the very fabric of God.  Thus have we aspired to be, far beyond the meretricious makings of malicious-minded fools.

Rebirth (A Fable)

Vishnu turned Her all-seeing eye towards the Earth. It was time. She felt it in her being.

Her creation moaned and begged for its rebirth. The trees cried out. The roots rotted in the gloom and the grey. Violence prevailed. Death and destruction. The evil hearts of men and beast were infesting life with plagues of decay and woe.

Vishnu descended into the darkened realm and spoke the words.

“Thunder burst.”

The skies began to burn. Bursts of flame and soot ascended beyond the stratosphere and into the lower orbit. Pitch darkness consumed the living, the air choked from their lungs. Dying birds dropped from flight and rained upon the ground. The ground rolled like waves. The earth spit into two. Mountains exploded into fire and clouds of ash.

“I am Vishnu, Lord of creation. Fear my power. I am creator and destroyer of worlds.”

The last living human begged to stay alive. She was a child, sobbing, her soul was clean. Vishnu saw no sin in her.

“Take my hand, my child-god.”

The touch transformed the child into perfect health and form. She assumed the form and power of the Vishnu.

Doing this, Vishnu became a human child, innocent as snow and powerful in love. Rebirth and renewal. The cycle of life. Vishnu and child, one and the same.

The sky cleared, the smoke withdrew. The rivers began to flow.

The sea, once red, now green and blue. Radiant sunlight through the breeze, flowers and birds and nature sing.

“It is good. Love is free again. This pleases me.”

She felt her soft brown hair for the first time. It felt infinite and good. Light was everywhere, bright as the sun.

She drifted and danced in the sunshine. Petals fell.

She crossed the bridge, never looked back, and faded from view.

Lullaby

Those who are discouraged need to understand. God has a purpose and God has a plan.

He created light. He created you. We’re just learning now the things light can do. It travels in waves and particle beams. It bathes us in warmth and cosmic streams. With photons it moves the hearts of the stars, and sends itself to Earth and to Mars.

The more we discover how it works, the more questions we find to answer the quirks.

And in the same way, the more we know God, the less we know which doesn’t seem odd. For God is light and God is love, who showers us all from places above.

A-men.

The Secret

Beyond the reach of stars, beyond gravity and accepted laws of time; across the known cosmos and guided by the light of rainbows arching different worlds; the satyr sulked and leaped into the flame.

“The secret is protected.”

“The satyr knew, and is no more.”

“Why have you come?”

“The door beckons and begs me into being. I have looked into its eyes and heard it speak.”

“Machine men, zipping round, seductive, pulling millions and millions of Mah‘dor‘mon**…. They never rest nor never sleep, they search the Earth, go round and round. They will find you, my dearest, my darling dear, they will find my love and you will die.”

“How is that to be? I am older than the hill and longer than the tree of legend-length; older than the moon, more seasoned than the suns; my time is squared, though gained for loss; I fell before, I rose again, by righteous will I die no more.”

“Surrender. These creatures do not belong. We will not fight them. We must trust the bridge. We will not fight. We will not force. We are true. We are real. The great mystery is our strength. Cast your light into the door, the door will move. Your energy is in your light.”

“I will bend the cosmos. Press my light into the fabric and roll the galaxy into my palm and fly beyond the sun.”

The door, opening, revealed in truth: “Because it they, who never speak, though in their thoughts do dwell, they never, nor for nary ought, best to their thoughts do tell. And though through those, thrice they therewith, my quaking heart can’t quell, my mind for naught but wicked words, in propense-ed pain do spell.”

That is the secret of the stars.

**A type of canned stew

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