First Rhythm

The tempo of dream redemption.
A gust of energy beyond energy.
The clatter of industry
With the subtle rhythm at its center.
In a sacred circle of trust.
The sky within its vast reasoning.
To the sail of offering;
Given to the tempest,
Given to beneficient heart.
With the primordial goddess
Of the mother, the realm of earth.
With silence as a try at the way.
We live in existence.
Love is the art,
Is the light of essence.
The way since the origin,
the exchange of life

Broken Silence

The nimble course of a flailing stump
To a glide on a stark history.
Around a clock that knew my name
And broke the silences with curses.
Time bares raven oaths
And degrades a plumed thought.
The trance of radiance succombs
The full chalice of extremity.
On eagles backs the angelic soar.
Riden aloof to granite philosophy.
No rider claimed his worth
With such exuberant sobriety.
On to the case at hand.
My devils sink in sand all quick
And lift the hearts of fearless men
Who have to battle it.

Each a Page

Grand temporal monuments,

Adrift in a thousand sojourns.

Coming through dark continents

of desire and knowledge.

The longing imagination

Into a volume of poesy.

To a flower the day is surfacing,

To the plain of sifted virtue.

Each birth this spirit page of grace.

The silent journal that only we own.

The stone of miracle reasons.

The gift of a chance to gain.

A rung on an incessant ladder.

A stair to the godly state.

In peace the winter we climb behind,

The incarnate love swooning.

High swan of the circle

Blue Sky Wide Ocean Blue

The exploring psychology,
Feast of the imagination.
Self interest delight in canyons,
Where shadow harbours realization.
The smiling forehead,
As a knowledge imported.
As a definition saying truth.
Intuition delves into it.
Around and around.
A maze amazing.
Self interest battle.
To discover what's interesting.
The inspired outlook heart.
Psychology of structures remaining
Constants

Lunar Quill

You're too honest to treat an evil

Ground so limitless in a hope.

It rains in heaven today,

Paradise of life's dour intellect.

The debt to nature has grieviously passed.

Angel flew by your chamber window,

That turning glass wheel contains

A cosmos of answers and truths.

There's a knock on the porch,

J.D. and wholesome talk.

Your warrior's sacred path is insight.

Gum boots and Winter's last prescence

Following in Spring's new shoots.

Spark up the journey heart

The call of the freeway is ahead.

Better to be Freak

In the field where lies become truth.
The ultimatum extra,
The balm of Gilead.
I put my ear to the track
and came up with noise.
The kingdom comes.
The spirit land of hunger
Sees a desperate haunt.
A flower in the snow.
As we carry on despite
The ecology of the mental
Minefield.
Where we are blown
From limb to limb.
Better freak than brain dead.
No fear as they beat your door.
The question hasn't a question yet
No answer R.D.
But I'm poletic in my arm chair
Psycho-ecology numbed

Hazrat Inayat Khan

The great opportunity has
Its opening in the perfection
of the ultimate perfection.
Everything strives for it.
Down to the heart quality,
which beats in exhaultation.
In this struggle the heart
yearns to break the fetters
of the world and its existance.
To rise with our consciousness.
To fill our grand purpose
in intuition, inspiration and
revelation.
We get the sensation
of happiness and beauty.
Peace belongs to the soul.
This is the soul's liberation.

Callingwood

It was a bell jar summer.
I was on a quiet countery road
When a car drove up. "you're
dangerously close to the
Armed Forces artillary range
there kid!"
"I'm trying to get to Wasaga Beach"
"hop in I'll drive you part way"
I got off at a Provincial Park
and sacked out in a clump of trees
with thick vieny roots.
A truck pulled up and a lady said
"you're hitch hiking aren't you?
can we share your space?"
the park was full.
"sure mam, be my guest"
they paid for the space, got me
stoned and drunk and fed.
the lady gave me a wierd facial
with all sorts of ointments and creams.
In the morning it was "look us up
when you get back to Toronto"
I never did unfortunately-
sure did like that lady.

Owen Sound to Wireton

The taken road,
my walking map
Sun then rain first day.
First night in a farmer's bushes
All trees and cows.
Rain and more rain.
A store rises out of nowhere
Like a mirage.
Cans of peaches!!
I bought three.
I travelled off awhile.
I came to this vacant house.
No one home.
I looked in saw an
interesting piano.
and ate all three cans in
The shed; it still rained.
such an empty mind
plus endorphines
I hit town late.
Camped down by the marsh
And chilled, later a rock
band played in the bar
Across the marsh and field.
Let me hear you cough
there guy!
Solitude for no one in particular.

Renunciation

I abandoned the
Crescent at your gate.
The way has grown
Thistles and thorns.
That winded smile
Has a parched thirst
and the journey
Has other sanctuaries
For my good fortune.
They speak to the wall,
As its ear is sharp
And neutral.
Most heeding to its
Accountable acid test
With the joker moon
And mystery gambit.
I'll take the sun
And carve a hollow
In that willow thorn
Where I am one
With mercy.

No Blame

First silence.
The way of the abyss.
No blame.
Action became one's own will.
The eternal cause and effect.
No Blame.
The source is harmony,
Beauty, peace, power.
In the one we live and move
And have our being.
No blame.
Each being a temple of God.

Renunciation is willingness
To take time to put things aside.
The veil which keeps man
From understanding.
Lifts.
No blame

R.D. Laing

Exiled from truth,
In a day as it flows
My 21st century breakdown,
Has become a breakthrough
To wing with the cool flock
Painfully trying to avoid pain.
And the past hangs in
As never disillusioning
As the present.
Adjusting to an insane world
I delve into madness.
Exploring other mental territories
I prefer mountains
To the lane way.
And love's inate violence
Has its moments; the connection
To those few I truely love

Never Alone

Out of the well of
My aloneness.
I saw a depth.
And everything had
An expression.
Like a sacred book.
A reading of
Comforting words.
Verses of nature,
Blue heavens
Talked with no
Definate reason.
My senses weren't mine
But I could see.
No longer alone.

Mythical Balance and Harmony

With mythical memories

Appearing without cutting.

The balance and harmony

exists on a hard edge

No truth acts as a weapon

because it learns its own

decadence.

The fire burns the hard seed.

So many shmucks in a democracy

walk with the relentless tribes

and neither fortune nor misfortune

will be your rider.

We discuss the triune eternity,

but fate lives there on an elephant

with six tusks, in the slow market

killing the home of moments

The Stillness

The way's giant chord; one sound.

A blue whispering ox butcher

Liberation, the occult rip, one blade

before stillness ageless frayed with years..

like a bird in its air, leaving no trace, he

shares good fortune.

as the way is lost there is anarchy, nihilism,

free homicide.

the sage mounts the white clouds and

ascends among the immortals, covering heaven

sustaining earth. shaping and creating with

the "nothing special" approach.

Heaven and earth are fulfilled.

The Silver Van

Striving baffed
On infamous Montreal
And you believe
You can see who
Brought it in.
All those lamb skin
Coats with wierd
Stitching inside.
A day when your world
Dissolves into a small bowl.
Pices, Cancer, Gemini
A curling haze
Settles in the room
And little Peter gives
Us the peace sign
Going back upstairs.

Setting and Setback

How the capacity is large.
You have to deal wisely
With the essence of life and loving.
A silent way sustains
An interaction with nature.
The violence we foist
On nature has its returns.
Objects of desire gain control.
Hidden in secret
Nature sinks into oneness.
Vitality and any kind of power
Are elusive
Material submission and setback.
When too much delight in all of this
Does its thing.

The Feast of Intellect

Intellect, the flower

Of name and form.

How we desire the feast

For your hunger.

To give you wisdom

And place you on the

Throne of the heart.

The essence of spirit

Travels through this as we are.

To believe in intuition

And gather all in soulful joy.

How the spirit delights

With this gift of vastness within

And call wisdom and intellect

Our own.

that non-inherant twit routine straight from the start, EH!

Blade Wheel

The druming taps played
Hour to hour.
As space is camoulflaged
The earth turns into the sun;
Dawn of the hidden ones.
Mindful of the supliant gifts,
As I'm extremely glad
You don't know it's the weather

Control is missing
But things are purposeful
The personal body
Crammed in with idioms.
My room garbage
Trimmed with "Bad Action Blade Wheels"
You're no longer
Here to design your haunt.
In a few...memory will
Need a tweek
So one comes
One goes
Around that frickin mountain

Widow Bones

How the starlit croaking way
Enhances the croaker's drugs.
How she loves to haunt my days.
The Black Pearl thumps her
Imaculate disease's effects.
The sky is a window by consciousness
The moon is a crystal dagger
Piercing the flesh coated soul of horns.
The blood is service to the tomb acid.
A lid on sacred fiction.
The boasting whore cuts the triple haul
With sour harmony of an alcoholic's
dry bread.
I listen.

no toppling of heads, out of this violent sphere

Smiling Forehead

Arts in patient relays
the theft of trance
was bound in a crooked tail
and dealt with the weapon.
as a sorrow wanes
such prayers do subtle glow.

conscious of coyote
and that mountain that
is the universal center.
with the cloak of heaven,
the dear cost of life,
is serenely existing

a particpant dove circling,
the cat jumps the scale
and the arrow shoots the sky.
with the least known road
being often searched
as the diety smiles.

House of the Willow Veils

The Sorrow Piered Heart

on willow moutain
I took with me
your fallen tears,
like misfortunate soldiers.
the valley is always misty.
how can I stand it.
the sorrow pierced heart.
I'll be around to call your angel.
It hovers as an eighth chakra.
my lone whisper
pissed the villagers.
to keep silent in a woeful reverie.
the hall is a longing
to blood's deadly arrows.
I'm free,
the willow falls.
all around me

Indelable

Mankind is endevor.
Each is a natural thinker;
Dust accumulates
And most in corruption
As he dives into his thoughts.
With a promotion to welfare.
Deep down is the vision of love,
Totally indelable
---------------------------
We hide in our lusts.
We grope in a dark place
As divinity hovers.
We are kept.
For some reason harm
is a rarity?
We exist in our faiths.
Materialist and with
Mental ghosts,
We dream of satiation.
How bold that thinker
Hidden in transiency.

The Evanescent Thread

As the thread unwindes

The present shakes the past.

No trap, no endevour.

Future mystery is the

Fantasy mind wandering.

Happiness in our moment,

Foundation for tomorrow.

Content now, then in future.

The mindful cup of harmony

In body and mind silent.

Blue mountain, white cloud.

Together, one.

Independent, dependent

Circle of the Beloved

The natural state has purity.
A purified mind need not seek again.
Such as with this his path is chosen.
We are wrapped in the cloth of
Different creeds,
In imparting the excellent merit,
Its source is in the heart.
------------------------
The test of the lover
Causes ilussions to vanish.
Thus arrises the glory of the beloved.
----------------------------
One path, many signals,
Beacons to truth.
There become many ways.
One is inticed with impossibilities
But a middle way
In peace, calmness, moderation;
The height of virtue is always revealed.
The lover is no longer tested.
Through so many deliberations;
one result

Containing the Circle

How great desire thrives

At the witness expense.

And while listening to

The anonymous lecture

The days and nights revolve.

How humility protects

The very sun.

On this wheel of solitude

"Proof" is the goal of my search.

-------------------------

lost in mountain and desert

How sweet love's intoxication

With the agony of wishing.

How the grand eloquence

Fills one with awe.

-------------------------

Walking the soul's journey

Without fear and

Happening on the meaning

That blooms within the heart.

Somewhere

There's a peace somewhere,
There's a natural flow.
The grasping of nature
The gaining of spiritual powers.
------------------------------
There is no action.
There is a universe at peace.
That state of no harm
Where inherant is the
Soul of all things
-----------------------
Free, independent,
No exploitation.
World peace is the achieving
Knowledge of the true
Values of others.
Total consideration

Heart's Ease

Spirit of the heart's choice.

Virtue claims honor.

Wihin the denizens

Of the heavens.

How strait is the gate,

To reach there o blissful

Is on such a narrow way.

The particular fire.

The consuming in

Love and liberty.

A satisfction with

The beneficence of

The dear ones,

A person's feelings

Wrapped in pure gold.

Seeker

WE are already there.

A little venture through

The abscent intuition process,

You,re grabbed by its knowledge.

In art the lost muse

Is found in another.

And in the ordinary ,

It escapades through

Reverie and fancy

In a divine process

With out meaningless questions.

There's a mild portion

For the feelings,

all wrapped up in such trodden grace.

Someday what we seek will be found

The grand formless "question."

Way of the Ancient Drone

Beside my ocean heart

Totally lost in a gaining.

To feel the fountain

Of being alive

Through those famines of pain.

My bitterness was my source,

The knowledge of the sympathy

Of the soul's music.

It has become its prize.

The opposite was its creation.

Because I loved so much.

Barriers

Through mountains and passes.
Under willow moon.
The rocks covered in
Dripping moss.
Stiffened by my will.
Once resolute I cross
Barriers to my heart
Almost crushed by
This floating world.
By the River of Heaven
I'll pass like dew.
How the blossoms scatter.

.......and to each a Laurel

The imortal is plucked

Out as Meyesaw.

Giving time to our discoveries.

A subtle inclination

Towards a vision of

Individual fate.

To be alive in our relating.

It's all new.

But we are not strangers

To this strange land.

Our journies have been mapped.

Light drives out darkness

And the time is always ripe

T o do what's right.