Gaia Community: mary's Blog

soup of dreams

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 15:49:41 GMT

i can imagine i am loved
and feel that golden glow
expansive and mercurial
languid upon the waters

and i can imagine that i am unloved
and slip through this life
unseen, unknown
through all the tumult of affairs

and feel that cold contraction
in the belly of darkness
as i am lost, alone, forever
feeling my way through the catacombs

but i notice that neither story
changes at all
that which actually IS
so when i stop imagining
my body has no recipe for feelings
only confusion as fear arises nonetheless
boiling from interminable deeps
and clotting like blood upon the water

but soon, through boredom perhaps
the storm recedes, subsides
into a gentle simmer
an intoxicating brew
gently lapping the shores of eternity

and that is the seduction
the undertow of intoxication
becomes yet another story
another plot-line
to whorl about the maypole of self
ribbons all a-streaming
in celebration
of this hearty
soup of dreams

Tags:

some say love

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 12:40:32 GMT

some say love is mirage
pooled across those lonely white lines
desert dove keening on the singing wires
and the hitchhiker, blowing kisses at passersby
even through scowls

somehow, love knows when to smile ;-)

some say love is commitment
working through fever
drawn down to bone
a mantra

thy will be done
thy will be done
thy will be done

some say love is obsession
a crucible of desire
a reduction to essence
too pure to know
too hot to touch
like the tears of christ
on that lonely hilltop
in the long hours before
a mythic dawn

some see love as currency
illegal tender
stuffed into coffers and slid
between cold sheets, hoarding
for rainy days that never come
though ever conjured and tucked neatly
into wan promises
and lackluster lies

i don't know love the way i dreamed
falling into the holy fire
as a matched set
but love found its way regardless
through four-chambered granite
grinding boulders to dust
exploding cinders to fiery spirals
pulverizing dreams and desire
pressing forth, hard, unceasing
like sun
and moon
and rain and thunder and quaking earth
love moved the marble capstone
to set itself free
a wild torrent to break and pour
through tent cities and seedy bars
tin cups and empty eyes
cold steel, bruised lips
harsh words and whiskey dreams

and in the sharp light of morning
after a good spanking
love stumbles to the medicine chest
a malodorous alchemist
working through two aspirin
and a slapdash bloody mary
unleashing the wonders of
v8 and beer

yes, some say love is hair of the dog
and some say it's the tail
securely attached and wagging
helplessly and forever

but i say again, i do not know love
not the way love knows me
a swashbuckler, storming
my ships of relation
with merciless ease
no quarter given
no holds barred
and taking no prisoners!

Tags: poetry

no time is forever

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 16:05:41 GMT

the door flaps aimlessly in the wind
punctuating silences with hard knocks
where once tinkled chimes
and sheets, billowing

it was only one day
the first in a very long stretch
that no one checked the mail
and soon after, no mail arrived
and soon after that
sparrows nested in the tin hollow
strangled by morning glory
and marbled 'neath that wicked moon
on all-saint's eve

bones in the cellar collect straw and dust
where once memories were held in rows
of pearly auburns and burgundy jars
now uniformly gray and shrouded
as sarcophogi

written in the stars
far above the soughing pines
are constellations of hope and the promise of resurrection
held away away in a distant dawn
as if time could be forever

but no it cannot be
she breathes through all the cracks
sifts bones into powdery piles
scurried by rodents

on a knuckled-down three-legged desk
just inside the door
the phone never rings anymore
messages on brittle film
now cracked and yellowed
and lost to eternity

some things can't be reclaimed
across too wide a silence
we are lost and slip away away
in no time
forever

Tags:

this waking dream

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 11:34:36 GMT

did you leave me a message, calling me sistah,
and letting me hear the ocean?
or was that a dream?
and now, i feel you, receding? falling?
as the tide, or from the cliff,
from where the ocean roared
all the way to here?

i want so much to touch you there, in those tangled middles
i know i can soothe you, ease the snarls
just by thinking them calm, barely a whisper passing between
and given time, could turn your eyes to Love
not love of this form, this wrinkly mess
nor love of any form!
but love of all form - as perfect expression of the divine
who ever pours for you

but to a heart cleaved, these words may ring empty
as the hollow-belly ever grumbles for substance
the warmth and beat beat beat of another breathing soul
cupped in a gentle eternity
filling the deeps and shallows with sweet sweet succor
as the night draws long, and sheets settle, so smooth
upon the hills and valleys of us

you toy with my hair, thinking i sleep
and i try not to smile
i know you are dreaming me
feasting upon the shadows of moonlight
obscuring the crows-feet and worry-lines
gravity has pulled kindly toward the pillow
with its pale satin sheen, and shadow-dance of
sheer curtains, languid on moonbeams
which fortune smiles to frame this midnight moment
in your heart
as it breaks, and pours its lament
silently, so as not to stir
this waking dream….

Tags: poetry

between the lines (when i read the book)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 14:57:56 GMT

what is known
is naught but tracer, sparked through ocean
dark and vast primordial
clamping like skin to bone, the unknown
to imagination
which plops meagre stone across inland sea
into a semblance of knowing
barely coalescing before it crumbles behind
as we dreamwalk this plank

to the dancing-tune of Caesar's pirates
who hold truth hostage
and treasure even the innocent lies
for their value in spanning the mighty gulf
between pale descriptors, bound by words
whose virtue is only in forestalling
the endless silence
and just homage to the fullness of things....

Tags: walking with walt

future past (eidelons)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 12:20:21 GMT

even now i feel this skin within my skin
this heaving whoosh and flow
restless, and barely contained
in corpuscle of blood and bone

soon enough, cold and putrid
this body will be, and food for hungry ghosts still
elaborating upon, articulating, and embellishing
their own sarcophagi

all pinnacles achieved, not for naught!
but clearly not forever
as we are not a hairsbreadth away
from breathlessness

even the tears will pool, only here
where rivers run, and stars fall
and life presses forth from within and within
a belly full of eidolon

now, trapped in skullbones
and swirled in the dreaming-keeps
my ghost stretches, yawns, nonplussed
pummeling and kicking walls

and wondering what film obscures her eyes
that she can't be free'd, to see this world
with unblemished sight, clear as death
this world emptied of significance

but to know that, is peril for
no man would hold himself so cheap
without a warrior's rise to keep
his accruals, in citadel and crown

all primed and pumped for life's endeavor
to give one's all, this king to conquer
to rise upon this lofty throne
and seat this future eidolon

to eat, consume, digest, excrete
this stuff of life, all mine to matter
battle-finger'd, clutching air
carving a claim on forever

but forever silence peers, unmoving
cold as polar sky, storm crackling
arcing spirit into skin
sweet and wild, from ghosts within

now trapped and tunneling, worm'd through flesh
so full-forgetting, forgetful yet
and truth's shade, she's such a nag!
golden key concealed in rags

muttering down the cellar stairs
spiders crawling in her hair
ghost-drums pound in hollow ear
a warning, crook'd and beck'ning there...

Tags: walking with walt

mirror-glass (for him i sing)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 13:16:25 GMT

yes, a conundrum!
but for life, He is but silence
and without dilation, His vast potential
nary stirring
but a whisper
a word
a lyric
a song
a dim echo in long-forgotten cathedral
a deep stirring down the catacombs there
mind within mind, blooming
cascading, NOW!
into the vast forever-gone
as if as if it never were

we are holy tear, traced
like liquid lightning, in His eye
as He delights
enraptured, hot stone to brook
in our tender passing

we crest His moment
breathe His beyond
and rise upon His mighty storm
to know Him knowing himself
as He grinds our mirror-glass to lens
tunes our pipes
and flutes our trembly reeds to perfection

i am become crescendo
in His gilt chambered heart
my voice raised to Him
that He may sing...

Tags: walking with walt

wishing well (to thee old cause)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 16:11:14 GMT

yes we do spin from the ether
from the merest seed of dream
all the plagues of mankind
virile and reconstituting
from slightest mention
the least transmission igniting like wildfire
the foul reach of authority

in this unruly garden
of murky swamps and brambles
the dead of many wars lay
hollow-eyes beseeching:
O' fair brethren, ye left standing!
Keep the Standard! Fight the Fight!

... for which they were but fodder and loam
incubating this splendid madness
so tenaciously incorporating, while
leeching blood from slumb'ring host
to explode like incubus through the dreamlands
clouds of locusts, clouds of lies
penning history with the blood
and damnation of fools

yet nested in the thorns are blooms
unsurpassed in time and grace
unequaled in spontaneity and grandeur
splashed upon the cosmos to pale the stars
lining the inside of god's laughing eye
as we storm all the gates of heaven and hell
even as we dream them into being
armed with only our Word
and our will be done, or be damned!

yet this is our claim and our glory
as we are ever unchanging becoming
put to the task of moving worlds
with naught but a whisper to guide us
through this garden of dragons and thieves
with forked tongue and sufficient desire
to lay waste to civilization

blackened seed to beguiling vine
truth is reduced to a dowdy stump
beneath a most vigorous pretense...

oh! i see the danger, and the awesome power!
of this tiny vector of madness
spinning its stories
and working it's word into deed
and as the gun has no mercy, nor a murderous heart
the mind can only enchant itself, so willfully!
as the truth curls, a tightened bud
of the inner-eye, yet dreaming

nameless and good
this golden flick of potential
this nectar of the infinite
is so liberally bestowed!

innocent
we drink it down like poison
and dance with the very devil till dawn

but seasoned
we turn water into wine
become wiser with the wishing
and wish very, very well!

;-)

Tags: walking with walt

we'll ride the waves (in cabin'd ships at sea)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 22:07:16 GMT

only mind crashes mightier than the sea
sculling mortals on the reefs beyond the breakers
where the word pearls from the deeps
bursting worlds asunder and hearts aflame
with the sheer majesty of their passage
through the void

sails plumed on forgotten wind careening
lost in thought
lost in the ocean of you
running hot, like a current
disseminating mind like lava
through the unknowing dream of us
rich with nuance, ripe to unfold
from ripple to stream to torrent
it pours forth from the pages written
upon the wind and tides
that pound a drumbeat upon the hearts
stretched taut across the abyss
cutting deep through time and space
beyond the marked channels, arising
into realms dissolved of meaning
of such suchness we are cleaved and run aground
off the shores of forever

Tags: walking with walt

between the battle-lines (as i ponder'd in silence)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 14:32:46 GMT

i do feel myself tooled through words
that would press and probe the mettle of me
to stamp me with indelible tooth
in a loose cross-weave, like a gunny-sack
for hauling grain to the front line
across a battlefield full of grand stagings
lost in the splash and panache of history, which i see
pools like blood in the furrows

and i am made whole by the rending
gut-shot and impaled
it is only the ghost of me that loses her skin
while the essence, trapped in the castle-keep
is loosed to greet the smoldering dawn
to meet her demise, her final dissolution
in the boundlessness that lies beyond
all fields of endeavor

and isn't it ever thus?
that we live and die by the word
as well as by the sword
and need the warriors who flick steel from their pens,
for the spewing of epics from roiling deeps
where heart and mind, body and soul
clash for supremacy
all thundrous proclamation
and armor-piercing diction
to quiver those boots mired in bedrock,
knowing only the mundane path
to ordinary victory and defeat
which passes ignobly between the lines
of unuttered truth, and freedom
those merest of glimmerings from the silence
between volleys of harsh retorts
and thundering lies....

Tags: walking with walt

walking with walt (one's-self i sing)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 13:04:04 GMT

i feel the roots of the earth reach into my veins
as i am claimed like a vine
into the fecund moulder of soil
and this happens even as i walk
as plasma exchanges through invisible lymph
clear as it is black, and deep as space

i cannot leave her, this mother of mine
though i may lay my body down beyond the milky way
this mother
permeates beyond all knowing

and my father, oh! he is in my walls
as we breathe each other, in concert
clear and cold, like winter sun
we are delight!

the light!

the one-eye, all seeing
this eagle has no mercy
all truth is flayed to marrow
and thrown to the mother
in the kitchen, stirring her
dark belly

and nowhere can i go beyond love
i look behind and within to hear only the wind
echoing some lost chimes of me
echoing lost sentiment through forgotten chambers
of a heart long since dismembered
and burst asunder

Tags:

no shortage of dad ;-)

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 15:20:42 GMT

though a bastard, twice-orphaned child
knocked through the halls of men like a gauntlet, coming up
i have come to understand
(though this has not come cheap!)
that all men are my father
when i need him
that i really have no shortage of dad

i found yet another yesterday ;-)
an elderly with lots of spry
and we flirted just fine
so fine!

(he showed me how to take a pulse
with a "secret" handshake ;-)

so, now
i don't know where to go
to lose my father ;-)

and my brother is there, too
everywhere i look
my buddy
my pal
and my scrapper!

and when i need that deep pool
i can find that too
it arises everywhere i turn

i have no shortage
and never have ;-)
this is what i have learned!
i see that the torment of this orphaned child
was only in the denying of that

funny
how the mind is a reflecting pool
a mini-holograph
only existing in the criss-crossing of itself
twin beams of no-thing
creating all of us by its descriptions
and certainties thereof...

~

and so now this non-orphan child
learns herself anew
in that toddler way
that clumsy puppy way

would that i could only heal,
and never harm in the healing!
but i find that to be impossible
evidently
as i can only witness my arising
as i arise
and by that time it's too late

and i grieve that beyond all that is known

yes, i do.

bless us all!
because i know
that if i can't do this
there is no hope for the world!
for if i can't learn to bind the wounds
with my nearest neighbors
how could i imagine it so between nations?

and who has that kind of time to waste, in turmoil?
life is so precious!
and i swear, sometimes
i simply can't find the problem anymore
i forget what was so important
those lifetimes ago
and kind of just sit
agog
at the wonder of it
as it emerges ever fresh, ever wild
and seeing that all else is in the mind
and all the rifts simply constrictions around
a painfully embedded lie

how i wish i had known this all along!
and wonder, if i would, or wouldn't
if i had been the actual daughter of
my kind donor ;-)
(whose gifts i gladly receive!
even this awkward gift
of learning who i am
without him...)

Tags:

thundering silence

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 15:32:39 GMT

i just realized
i am noise
that's it
the extent of it
simply noise

for like noise, i must huff and puff
to maintain form
but also like noise
collapse into silence
so quickly!

and so quickly become
so nothing
just this breathing
this walking
in the fog...

;-)

Tags:

tax day cometh...

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 15:03:36 GMT

render unto Caesar his due
but the rest, claim!
in truth,
he can only charge for crossing
a river, though he names
and through locks and dams, constrains
is already, it's whole length through
only you!

;-)

Tags:

old man jones

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 23:55:04 GMT

crows gather just beyond the dawn
rakish and jostling along the tree-line
mostly shagbark and indian cigar
angling over that sickly creek
banks caved in from the plowed fields
pressed in so close
those thundering, steel-jawed machines
crushing the soil
and tossing it to the wind

year by year
this wind carves my face
and the heavy roar of progress
gnarls my flesh
and grinds my bones
into dirt
bringing me closer to the land

right now, though
the wind is slight
tinkling the frozen rushes like crystal chimes
indigo against the sky, awaiting
that first flush of fire

deer, nesting in the pockets
hollowed out in the reeds
test the pearly crust with slick hooves
pawing and blowing steam
hair on end from the cold
and frost burling their whiskers

the big doe, she watches the crows
pricked ears fanning for the morning news
the others huddle close for warmth
nuzzling, shouldering awake
some, with swollen bellies
yet dreaming

no smoke curls from the cabin down on Hickory
since old man Jones died
his dog died soon after
he always had coffee on, these misty mornings
gritty from using no basket
throwing the grounds on to settle
as conversation filled the space
between the kettle and the fire…

the road is colder now
and the crows clatter off to the duck pond
lord knows why
winters, they stick pretty close to routine
running the perimeter
and heralding all that moves
taking their job pretty darn seriously
for all their clownish ways
and pirate souls…

kind of like people
old man jones used to say

Tags: prose

no wonder!

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 13:59:55 GMT

i was struck yesterday by this absolute notion
smacked me so hard, i got vertigo
and i wonder if i should share something
so frightening and wonderful
and i wonder how i will squeeze it all through words
through some short, negotiable passage
for minds to sift for a treasure it can't even imagine
much less understand

for the truth is this
i am bounded by the unknown like a girdle
and there is no getting out
it is everywhere i look
everywhere my mind can't penetrate
and must rely on its generous imagination
to fill in the blanks
to fill my head with chatter
meaningless chatter, as the mind
professing to understand so convincingly
is really ass-bare behind the curtain
sporting the emperor's new clothes

while dorothy dreams in the poppies
lions and tigers and bears - oh my!
red shoes at the ready
home
just a click away....

but truly, the mystery is a blanket
that can't be shed
i can't even know the eye that looks
much less the eye that sees....

Tags:

and this be the new year

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 04:58:10 GMT

and this be the new year
a day of melting, smelting
a day of coyote, eagle
a day of false divisions
and daring to dream nonetheless
this is a day for mind opening
heart bonding
gut un-wrenching
this is the day of all days
as are all days
when the forked tongue heals
and the soul laps upon the shores of eternity

Tags: prose

shipwreck

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 18:06:04 GMT

it is all insanity isn't it
to do anything other than breathe
to take care of necessities
and peer with wonder at the multiverse
ever falling beyond and within
like an ever-blooming rose
and isn't it madness to do other than
caress her petals
inhale her essence
and unfurl into her soul
any which-way we can

such a beautiful, terrible dilemma
to be or not to be
to see what is real or to make real the dream
of being and not-being
to see that depending on how you look at it
they are the same
for reifying the dream is real, its own part of reality

i wonder, is this reality not just an ocean of potential
rippled by phasings of reified dream?
and i wonder how far that extends, inferring of course, infinity
and i wonder what the totality of totality may contain
that i cannot imagine?
as i appear to occupy the bandwidth of imagination
beyond which i can't

but there is this deeper quieter space, in which if i am silent i can abide
whatever i is
whatever space is
at that point i surrender the quest
and become the question
alert to any feedback as reed to wind, water to stone
a quivering slick of mercury upon which all that falls leaves record
and the implications are digested and sorted into bins
for the pilings that shoulder the weight of my constructions
which eventually collapse due to the many inherent contradictions

and NOW it occurs to me
that is what is happening to me
i am collapsing from the strain of my inherent contradictions
right out in front of god and everybody
and i am not sure i could be happier about that!
what an incredible opportunity
to sit naked and gleaming on the shore
as the rusted behemoth of the entire construction
or at least a significant piece of it
finally sunders on the teeth of truth
and to finally let it die
to let it sink beneath the waves
in faith that in the end, the middle and in all the betweens
what is true will remain
even nameless
it will be what stands when the deconstruction is complete
assuming it is ever complete
assuming i do not continue compiling constructions
which inevitably decay and sunder on the truth of things

so that perhaps it is but ceaselessly human
to create this odd exoskeleton
constructed of nothing but reified dream
forming the world for a season
but in its time, falling away
informing the next and next construction
with its most nutritious gleanings
and we humans
we are most curious creatures!
we are working our way to truth this way
by learning to keep what is precious and alive
and to instantly, without mercy
sink that hulking ship of lies
even as we slip our skins
and watch with wonder from our next construction zone
as we open once more to vast possibility
carress the soul
and unfurl

Tags: prose

i love you, mom!

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Mon, 12 May 2008 00:13:44 GMT

Such a testament to life!

are these dandelions, in the spring

and it seems so unfair!

they don’t know their clorophyll mothers ;-)

but only dream of wind and sky

and dampened earth enfolding

and the trickling warmth of sunlight

through fundument below

then a sudden urge to shoulder through

the cracks, into the wild blue

gold manes flaming, dreams afire

to celebrate the Mother

festoon her skirts with sunshine

burst

and dance beneath the stars

and this I know through many seasons

the wonder of her warm heart beating

her circling arms and circling wagons

and stories ‘round the fire

I know the succor of her love

the nourishment unbounded

and know that I am ever home

wherever she has wandered ...

I love you MOM!

Tags: mother's day, prose

What separates you from others?

http://gardenplanetproject.gaia.com — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 14:41:06 GMT

spaces filled with dreams
looking outward eyes
and fear turning love
upside-down, inside-out
and backwards

Tags: QaR, others, separation, uniqueness, difference