Hacker

 “It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.” – Bruce Lee

summer-paradise-dreamer

The way closes in quickly behind him, the path for retreat lay buried beneath the tangled brush of circumstance and pain and, as the way behind him, so the way forward. Hack. Hack. Cutting through is his only way to survive, so this occupation possesses him as the crash and thrash of falling vines collapse. Pushing against the green and brown thorny tides, his blade finds the branch and creates a hewn option for progress. His muscles shine with the sheen of a mad genius plotting against the onslaught of disbelief and solitary confinement. Hack. Hack. The enemies that dig pits of despair and throw boulders of anger at his stubborn persistence feel the power of his unstoppable advance. Deep jungles and forbidden territories fraught with dangers, they bear the mark of this maker of ways. Hack. Hack. The wayfarers and sojourners of the same trail are out of sight, but if you listen closely to the forested cries of beauties unseen, you know he’s alive, by the sound of his blades, Hack, Hack.

 

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You Are Not – A poet’s revenge against the Cliché –

“My life as well as my writing are guided by creed in lieu of clichés” ― Carl Henegan

 

progguy1

 

You’re not like every cliché
repeated often till meaning dies

You’re like brilliant truth, 
revealing my weakness for your body

You’re not like a rose whose fragrance and beauty
are but an honorable mention

You’re like the smell of a thousand pines 
calling and seducing me to lay in your arms

You’re not like an angel whose wings
carried you to me from afar

You’re like mischievous devils 
whose temptations take me from reality to fantasy

You’re not like a song,
sung endlessly while children clap their hands

You’re like the sound of waves, 
crashing your sexuality over my beaches

You’re not like a gentle swan,
perfect beauty so many times compared

You’re like violent lightning, 
striking the lies of men and melting my soul to yours

You’re not like the ordinary,
the common seen on every poet’s page

You’re like the grandeur of space, 
possessing the beginning and ending of my life

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02142012 

Blossom – Rebirth of a lover

“What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.” 

– Kobayashi Issa, Poems 

“A fallen blossom
returning to the bough, I thought –But no, a butterfly.” 

– Arakida Moritake, Traditional Japanese Poetry: An Anthology 

crazyformusic

Lightness, adrift but within my grasp always. 
Your like the blossoms of a tree, brushed off by the wind, 
yet still you belong to me, 
though we are apart. 
We are intertwined souls, mated by nature and God. 
Soon I shall lift you back up, 
from my roots you will be reborn 
to forever be one with me.
Your my bloom my love, this tree will always sustain you. 
I long for you to be on my branches once again, 
the whole of nature in agreement with the union. 
Oh how naked am I, my lover! 
How my branches sway at the sight of you! 
Come clothe me with your fragrant beauty, 
and let us be whole again!

08042011

Take The Leap

“All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience.” – Henry Miller

“The most dangerous thing in the world is to try to leap a chasm in two jumps.”
– David Lloyd George

zanewilsonimages

I see it in your eyes, the pain you try to hide. Just beyond the beauty, right below the smile, lies the confusion, the pain of not knowing, the paralysis of indecision. You want to know for sure before you leap off that board of comfort. But you cannot know for sure, ever, that the leap your about to take is the right one. It’s that moment, when you step out of habitual comfort, out of imagined safety, it‘s that moment that a miracle of transformation, the creative motion of life, begins to reveal the you that you were created to be. God holds our hand to encourage us take the leap, only then will you see yourself and know by experience, the love of your creator.

10102011

Now On Wings – Sitting still

“I have discovered that all human evil comes from this, man’s being unable to sit still in a room.” – Blaise Pascal

 

overlord

Please tell me this is all

not a waste

I struggle to be content and just

let life be

How easy is it to lose yourself

along the way

Like rain falling, silently gathering,

it flows down hill

What will stop the wayward descent

into my oblivion?

I look out from my hidden world

beauty all around

Could it be that all that is required is

to just sit still

I see you running, madness chasing you

just like me

There is a rest from all your panicked flight

in His arms

These are no fanciful delusions

of a religious man

Only the musings of a man once flightless

now on wings

07252011

Now On Wings – Sitting still

“I have discovered that all human evil comes from this, man’s being unable to sit still in a room.” – Blaise Pascal

 

overlord

Please tell me this is all

not a waste

I struggle to be content and just

let life be

How easy is it to lose yourself

along the way

Like rain falling, silently gathering,

it flows down hill

What will stop the wayward descent

into my oblivion?

I look out from my hidden world

beauty all around

Could it be that all that is required is

to just sit still

I see you running, madness chasing you

just like me

There is a rest from all your panicked flight

in His arms

These are no fanciful delusions

of a religious man

Only the musings of a man once flightless

now on wings

07252011

Hitchhiker

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist 

 

 

Pain demands my nurture forcing my mind to comprehend,

worry and pain will come, as hitchhikers on my journey.

 Do I choose to accept these passengers

 harbingers of future discomfort and agony

 or shut the door and speed past the beckoning stare.

 Find your joy in the speed of passing

 not in the bend of examinations after the fact. 

 My head turns upwards, back towards the road

 finding my dreams beyond torturous riders.