I Speak to Mountains

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I speak to mountains,
And, have conversations with stones,
Although this isn’t as easy as you might think,
Because, we have to speak,
In a different temporal continuum.

We talk about sizes and shapes.
We speak of temperature conduction,
Molecular construction,
And, about internal crystalline geometry.
We chat about atomic structure and astronomical design,
Expansion, contraction, density,
Texture, space and weight,
About volume and viscosity,
About force fields and reverberations,
And, about the nature of waves.

We never talk about eternal life,
Love or poetry,
Dreams or even time travel.
For that I have to wait and speak to the flowers,
Who understand romance and flight,
Pheromones and symphonic composition.

The stones tell me,
When the earth was slapped by the moon,
Perhaps just rough housing around,
Perhaps in a jealous rage,
The earth got piqued,
And, with fight-back “I’ll show you” energy,
Set about more magic,
Than was ever before conceived.
Then all of our symmetry was altered,
And, everything became a possibility.

The stones want to know if we appreciate,
The nearly impossible underlying precision,
And, the unending, multiple coincidences of the universe.

I ask them,
About the ice ages,
About the magnetism of the North Pole,
About particle entanglement,
The proportion of space to matter in atoms,
And, why it is that everything can be reduced to mathematics.

They never really answer my questions.
Instead, they complain because,
We are always moving forward,
With great regard to the future,
While the wisdom of the past,
Is swallowed up in the irretrievable gravity sink,
Of our DNA and, our dismembered memories,
Snaps at our ankles,
Crumbles into sinkholes and quicksand,
And, creates the karmic weather.

Vortex

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Vortex

Turning away from the world,
I wondered instead,
Who am I?
A woman made of mud,
Of sparks and space,
Of gender and race,
Of mistakes,
And, faults,
And, miserable flaws,
Holding my breath,
And, seeking the stars.

But, I found, inside of myself,
My own internal sun,
The one,
Around which I spin.
I met with my own,
Self serving ego,
Center of my solo system,
Holding everything together.
And, my unexpected, yet inevitable,
Eternal shadow,
Cold, bold,
Extension of the void,
Survivor from long before my beginning,
Arising out of dark fears and anger,
Closest to the demon earth,
With an interest, only, and eternally,
In the protection of my deep, limbic being,
The one connected,
By fang and claw,
By tooth and jaw,
To self-preservation,
To immediate satisfaction,
To instant gratification,
To whispers of rageing determination,
To the present,
To mob mentality,
To the crushing force,
Of gravity,
To the rushing force,
Of the movements of time and life.

I have found that I am,
The vortex of reality.
Everything enters me,
Stirs me, disturbs me,
Becomes subject to my interpretations,
My imitations,
My alterations,
My infinite complications,
My folding, origami replications,
My inspections, my reflections,
Four dimensional fluctuations,
Kaleidoscopic machinations,
Colossal, multifaceted limitations,
And, of course,
My centrifugal force,
Which keeps me going.
Going ’round.
Never lets me down.
Doesn’t even let me frown.

Whether I’m losing or winning,
I am always spinning.
I am self-centered,
Self-composed,
Self-encompassed,
Self-contained, trained,
Constrained,
And, I am really entertained,
By the tricks of my memories,
Dreams and desires,
And, the rollercoaster of my fluctuating reality.

But, just like this poem,
I keep on going.
Full of passion,
Full of laughter.
Always something,
I’m going after.
I fit into rhythm.
I fit into rhyme.
And, my kisses,
Aren’t forgotten,
Because they really,
Are sublime.

Worlds

 

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Worlds

I am living in worlds, and other worlds
Living in worlds inside of worlds
Truthful worlds and worlds lying
Worlds alive
Worlds dying
Worlds trying
To survive
The stormy, intergalactic weather
Worlds vying and worlds trying
To tie everything together

Physicists say
There is nothing
But, matter and space
Emptiness and form
But, I say there is more
There are thoughts
And, time within a place

I say there are also conclusions
There are confusions
And, there are illusions
There are connections, reflections
And, there is cohesion
There are changes of the season
There is faith and there is reason
The reality of full and hollow
The ways of going forward
And, the ways of those who follow

Energy of competition
Or, cooperation
Grasping reach of exploitation
The warm, red smoke
Which we call sensation
Dark, alluring fascination
Territory, love of nation
The will to control
And, oh, so bold
Desire to take over the world

And, besides my central heartbeat
There’s surprising inspiration
And, the most persuasive, all invasive
Underlying, death defying
Drive for eternal preservation
And, my immortal perpetuation

Today

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Today

Mankind without direction
Without reflection
Without inspection
Without coherence or connection
Dust and disintegrating borders
Landscapes without definition
Surrounded by psychopaths
Smothered by mutants running wild
With radioactive smiles
Countdown in foreign tongues with red eyes
All of the fantastic children of demons
Sibarites with no one to please but themselves
Lost in the wilderness
Intellect deformed
Giants shrunken
Cut off from the molten rivers of glass and brass and blood
What little is left to do but gnaw on driftwood
And, break our teeth?

A Fractured Mind, Part One:

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A Fractured Mind, Part One – Not my Artwork

A fragmented soul, lost, only knowing the stars are somewhere up ahead, half hidden, half of what they used to be, lost their way, lost the ability to guide, lost in a pinwheel of satellites, lost as the pale, fallen rose petals, the tattered, brown, jasmine flowers of yesterday, the desiccated dragonfly’s wings, lost as clouds of coral pollops in the patterns of the sea, lost in the green, pollen sky, lost in the fractals of my imagination, in the unbearably fragile earth, in the breath of the dying underworld and forgotten memories.