Breeze

It's a beautiful day outside today.

Morning Becomes Electric

Sweep back the curtains of guardian time
To free the world of rhythm and rhyme
Cascading through fields of thundering rain
In gray morning light at the break of the day
Soul humming with sonorous warmth and delight
Like watercolor paints splattered across the canvas of life
Free as a peregrine soaring through the sky
As bounded by rules as a meteor's ride
Naught can pin down a thing that is free
Or try to clip its flying wings
For that is folly of the highest degree
Like trying to tame the stormy seas
Or telling the sun not to shine in the sky
Or telling me where I'll go when I die
For I will join up with all the winds in the trees
And be one with the colors of the falling leaves
And live on in the blossoming passion of spring
In apples, their juices, and all the sweet things
In blossoms and nectars and dragonfly wings
In peaches and honeys and chimes on the breeze
I'll be in the moist soils and bubbling brooks
And across the slopes of the valley, the horse's hooves
I'll be in the crystalline twinkle of stars
And in the sigh of the air and folk guitars
So while I can listen to the rain on the roof
And enjoy the uniqueness of a single tooth
I won't feel bound to follow your rules
That restrain the spirit and dampen its shine
So don't even try to put a stop to my rhyme

And when the clock strikes twelve!
And the bell tolls its cadent hymn
Across the streets and lanes of quiet
With slow resounding vim
The sleepy dreaming thoughts
Of memories and age-old whims
Will slide away into the sky
And leave the sleepers free again
Without the hurt of painful fears
Without the layers of dusty years

Here are the poems I wrote for Little Grill

Jetpack

I would sit here until the end of the world
And watch the colors pass me by
And watch the dust curl up under the blazing sun
Next to a metal trashcan with the steaming lizards
I would sit here with my feet in the water
And stay all alone
With everybody else around
I would sit here and wait for a jetpack
To shoot me off into the cloudless sky
And take me away on a rushing ride
Away from the aching hurt and divide
Away out over the canyons and fields
Where the hemlocks grow without any fear
I would sit here and make a decision
To never ever be one of those people
Who turns into a person who covers their ego
With unfailing attention to keeping up with the Joneses
acting like they rule the world with stuck up noses
I would sit here until the end of the world
And think about the way pizza tastes in the winter
And wait for the trees to come back


Expanded Version of The Lesson

Raise the ire of the storm
And never let it settle
Stir up the thunder of the sea
And watch its rushing revel
Stare into the lion's eyes
with unflinching glare set level
With roaring fangs an inch away
Never once forget your mettle

Take a step to the edge of the earth
Where all the creatures share their birth
In the roaring stew of lava and life
that churns and burns with an unending strife
Which always fights the almighty force
that was breathed into us from heaven's door
the misty breath of everlasting life
that created everything up to the starry skies
And burns on into the night, night after night
and has no chance of defeat in the fight

No sweeter sound than the call of the wild

No sweeter sound than the call of the wild, said I
No deeper urge than this in the blood does lie
No thrill more deadly than the rage in a dragon's eye
Up so spine-tinglingly close you feel its nasal sigh

No clearer relief than the cool of a mountain spring
Washing over the body when plunged into like a glorious mountain king
No greater rule than living life to its yearning, magnificent all
So you can say it meant something when you fall.

Space and Sky, continued

Christmas lights shining in the depth of the sky, red and blue and green and yellow radiant in the black of deep space. They hang down in winding strings from a wooden beam, forming a curtain in your path up ahead. You walk through slowly, unsure of what to expect on the other side, but tingling with the excitement and anticipation fitting for Christmas Day in the depths of space. As you walk through you enter into a warm and cozy house with a low ceiling and dim lighting supplemented by the glow of Christmas lights shining on a tree off to the side. The smells of hearty food cooking in the kitchen a little ways off fill the house with a steamy comfort. Your gaze lands on a maroon painted door on the other side of the room, and you know what to do. You pace your steps towards it, pausing for a moment when you reach it before turning the brass knob and walking through.

You enter into a white world filled with snow, on top of a hill with a red wood+metal sled perched on the crest. This is the side yard. With a deep breath of frosty air, you take a running start and dive into the sled, landing perfectly wedged in the shallow seat area. The sled shoots off down the hill, picking up more and more speed as the metal rails glide down the smooth layer of snow. A perfect ramp in the curvature of the hill rushes up into your vision at the bottom of the hill, getting closer and closer. With an intense gaze you have no thoughts of stopping; your eyes see nothing but the fresh rush ahead. Your sled shoots off the natural ramp with a slight jolt and you are flying through the air, basking in the rushing air for one long adrenaline fueled second. Then, down, down--WHOOSH. With a perfect landing your sled skates across the snow of the flat, open field at the bottom of the hill, carrying out the momentum of your rushing ride until you finally come to a stop. You climb out of the sled and stand there for a long, relaxed moment, breathing deeply in the fresh, invigorating air of a clear winter day with layers of deep snow everywhere, your chest rising and falling in your snow jacket. Then you start to make your way across the open field, heading for the woods in the distance on the other side of the field, continuing your journey onward in this remarkable world out in deep space.

Space and Sky

In the vaulted hallways of the heavens above sing the rumbling bass of thunder and the shocking crackle of lightning, the voices of the sky.

What calls its home the depths of space will never be forgotten,
it holds an ancient power of heavenly sound begotten.

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What is space made up of? What is space? Is it carved black diamond sparkling in the sky? With crystal pinpoints of light radiating hot and bright as stars?

What is space music? Was it breathed into the lungs of life from the fingertips of God? Is it a piano with its sonic touch hailing from the stirrings of the sky?

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"Glittering stars in the night sky aside, scientists have long known that some diamonds hail from the heavens." --PBS

There are secrets out there that we haven't even begun to touch the surface of yet. There are connections to the stars.

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So cold.
A freezing cold sensation in bare feet as they make contact with the ancient stone surface of the moon. The total emptiness of the silence around is deafeningly cold in its depth.

The Lesson

Raise the ire of the storm,
but never let it settle,
Stir up the thunder of the sea,
and watch its rushing revel.
Stare into the lion's eyes,
with unflinching glare set level,
Its roaring fangs an inch away,
never once forget your mettle.