Dock of the Cosmic Bay
Did Sun Ra think in holographic time/
past and future turning on one wheel/ Saturn ringing like a cymbal beneath Marshall Allen’s horn and its cosmic cry/
The Arkestra boarded freight trains of sound/ smoking rails through midnight skies/
robes bright with Egyptian constellations/ saxophones splitting the dark into day gigs of wonderment/
Then Otis rose from the Georgia gospel/
His voice is rough as rope/ warm as bread/
singing from the Dock of the Bay where silence waits/ and every wave remembers the dead/
One built a vessel out of thunder and space time/
One made heartbreak a soulful testimony/
Both knew Earth was only a classroom/
Space is the place/ Soul time music was the reason why/
When time has officially ended/the stars lean close to hear what/
Sun Ra's Arkestra drifting across the water, a cosmic chord dissolving fear/
Space is the place/
Otis Redding's Soul music is the way/
And love/ the oldest spacecraft/
carries us beyond today.
Needed: unsung heroes, with no need for fame.
Be a piccolo or cymbal in the symphony of rain.
—by poet
Single Drop
jumping into single drop
landing with a belly flop
dancing with all, dousing land
Spring’s crush inside portioned crop
this tofu combo is quite spicy.
it would be a bit much for lovers of poetry.
my grandmother could neither read nor write,
but she knew what to do with dead bodies.
at my son's football, a friend's mother is telling me about her start-up company
i ask how it's going
"it's too early to tell."
"like the french revolution?"
but the absolute brass neck of the perpetrator
who could have orchestrated such a terrible crime?
i wonder if the victim has got a percussion
maybe it's a cymbal of things to come
i'm in a homemade hamster wheel
trying to cross the ocean
July 21st, 2025
It’s 8:43 a.m.
the humidity in Kansas City is worse than a sauna
twittering birds are doing noisy conversing
there is loud annoying haha of a crow
in the distance I can hear a barking dog
my dogs do not seem to hear this
they are staring in the direction of the crows
there are three of them, flying single file
Haha haha haha laughing crows
a super large black ant zoom-crawls toward me
large black rain spots appear on my gray asphalt driveway
there is a loud cymbal sound of thunder
both dogs enter doggie door, seeking refuge of the house
it is raining flat out now
I see steam rises from the asphalt
Hosea 6:3
God is talking to me
I hear it in the raindrops
As they flow to the sea
The rushing water gives
A soft cymbal sound
Praising God as he lives
What about you and me
Do our voices join them
In their loving sound, agree
Do our voices give
Off an angry round
Every day as we live
The pitter pat of raindrops
Quiets my soul today
Can I quiet my speech
To a loving way
So, my soul will say
Thank you, God, for the quiet day
Serpentine artisan in Eden
Crafting a second creation
A molten piece of idol
By the dexterity
Of word of mouth.
Tongue lures ear
And then à tongue kiss
To the ear, both soulmates
Titillate the neurons of the body
Stir the impulse of all senses
All segued to Judas kiss.
Telepathist tool
Transmuting visions from pluto
To reality on earth.
Forked-tongue town crier
With cymbal and gong
Improvising a dissonance
Of glossolalic tales
To the age of gullible gullivers!
Ear, O hear!
In that gaping cavity
There lies lie lair
The sword of Damocles
Gliding and Churning honey gobs
From its cavity to founts of lies
In every public square.
Like the big lie of Hitler and Goebbels
To the holocaust.
Let not all thy senses,
Emotion, reason, and conscience
Trust her tongue!
it’s too wet, too gloomy, too damp
putting me in a bad mood,
I am too annoyed to write
I wanted to picnic today
this storm has ruined everything!
Dang it! Now the lights have gone out!
Even if I could write, I can’t.
The computer won’t work!
This lament is from Linwood, the "wanna be" writer.
Chet, the real writer, heard the lament of his roommate.
as he was scribbling his thoughts onto a paper plate
using the light from the window
noting impressions in a line
angry gray clouds
thunder’s cymbal crash
resolve of the black oak tree to stand up to the storm
“I will write tomorrow!” yelled Linwood. “I am going back to bed now.”
Chet kept writing….you see,
this weather won’t poison a poets pen
because a real writer can write about….
an electrical outlet
a surprisingly fast mouse
a drop of glue
a tiny piece of tape
a teensy crumb from a pink eraser
or their roommates
that is what writers and poets do.
This morning, my heart beat like shoe sounds
Tak, Tok, Tak, Tok,
While I play the role of a gay
I am scared.
This afternoon, my heart sounds like a clock
Tik, Tak, Tik, Tak,
I am confused by hour
Running like horse
It suddenly flies in one gaze
Things in mind easily squandered.
This evening, it's getting serious
It sounds like cymbal and drum
Cling, Clang, Tom, Tom,
I'm a little happy for that.
This midnight, it sounds real
Tag, Tog, Tag, Tog,
It's an art
Of song and dance feast
No doubt, a music
For one who is in love.
Sunflower is the petal symbol,
Big round face follows the sun,
Signifies Honesty as a yellow cymbal,
Light in Truth sets free one,
Sheds light on fidelity, living loyal,
As 18 is coming of age, Love matures Hon!
18, the Chinese hold to be “prosperal”,
Past attempts weighed only a gram,
Will now weigh a ton, flourish neural!
Garnet does as 18’s stone,
Balanced intimacy levelly sensual,
Beyond a crush has attraction grown,
Giving, doing became mutual, sharing natural,
In the words of Judy Garland:
“Not in my ears, but in my heart, you whisper”,
“Not my lips, but my soul, you kissed!”
Sunflowers are drought resistant,
Reigns reciprocal kindness are dropping Rains!
I feel him there all day and night.
In my dreams, he speaks to me and makes my burden light.
His voice is like a soft and beautiful cymbal.
His turn of phrase makes my heart quick and my mind nimble.
His righteous utterance of confidence during the day,(sigh) shows me the way.
In retrospect, he was always there during my jejunity.
My father left me and my mother was not caring enough to love me.
He laid his finger on my heart and I felt his love.
His sweet and indomitable breath guided me to rise above.
I was abused by many antagonists and callous people over the years.
He fed me the fruit of his righteousness and chased away my fears.
He has made my life bountiful.
He has rectified my inefficient life so that I can become skillful.
In my winter solstice, I feel that time is nearing the fall of my withering and fermenting flesh to the earth.
My prayer is that my soul will bloom into immortal mirth.
Marchl 12, 2023
For the faithful be encouraged by John chapter 14 verse 18
For women men drop big cash
To have them toothy smiles flash:
If one needs windows, gets Sash:
Blenders to tomatoes mash,
Women quite free to sound brash!
For handsome men – No! A Trash!
Even Eves the idea thrash,
For being infinitely rash,
Save one did cash in banks stash…
Macho Men can’t their teeth gnash
Nor round with displeasure dash:
Whether Norman, Noah or Nash
They’d be unleashing tongue lash,
On their names leaving a gash…
No luck with views A Mishmash.
Though I
speak with the tongue
of men and of angels
and have not charity
I am become
as sounding brass
or a tinkling cymbal
And though I
have the gift of prophecy
and understand all mysteries
and all knowledge
and though I
have faith so that I
could remove mountains
And have not Charity
I Am Nothing
I heard an angel the other night from deep inside my heart
she sifted through my senses
like liquid light
It was an auditory worship
of the most beautiful kind
like the sounding of a cymbal,
from somewhere deep inside
Extracting me from worldly woes,
clairaudient delight
totality of soul with tenderized confide
A tethered sound of wings
fluttered through my mind,
and just before I fell asleep, she harked from deep inside
I hear your thoughts, I know your heart
I am your counterpart
Feel free to roam inside this fluid gate,
until your netherworld abates.
Drawn with anger,
Drawn with bitterness,
To attack, hurt and possibly kill,
He doesn't want to play the second fiddle,
He wants to be at the helm of affairs,
To be unseated is to be irrelevant,
To have a rival is to be partly significant,
All eyes must look up to him,
All obeisance must be accrued to him,
He is ready to hew
any tree that stands beside,
He is ready to fight and restrain,
Forgetting that his end lies in wait,
His fall, like a crashing cymbal.
June 3, 2022.
After the thunder and lightning storm
Raindrops steadily fall
It washes the air clean for now
Veranda my name calls
Everything is pollen coated
Birds of the air seem fine
Doves coo to their love in phrases
Sparrows chirp to others their line
It is a musical chorus
Each species comes in on cue
The raindrops a soft cymbal
Crows caw the trumpet due
How enjoyable these few moments
If only could last for days
But then the water might be rising
So that wish needs to delay
Precious can be the memories
Scattered my whole life through
Will my computer retrieve them
Later when its no longer new
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