All that has been, out-grows itself,
becomes monstrous in a mouse hole.
Thoughts pinned to carnival garbs
hang under night’s pitch-dark tent
to chew over minds missing links.
The silence of wordless clowns
mimes the shrill music of bats.
In a dusty room, the hammer-struck face
of a wall clock is a parody of my age
for it is younger than the hands that hung it there.
What great teaching unpacks this emptiness,
is it ancient, or as young
as the sleepless pad of my feet?
Perhaps as in dandelion seeds,
that act of their dispersal
has planted yet more muted revelations.
The dry rustle of mothwings --- a whispering
of some yet other enormity
one emerging now
within a threadbare soul's
deep-set pockets.
flu seemed to disperse
now know that we need a nurse
things will become worse
trump would be lying
now people are all crying
again alibiing
Jim Horn
Thoughts disperse like dandelion seeds,
all that has been, out-grows present and future,
becomes enormous in a mouse hole.
Moths are pinned to carnival garments,
only their quicksilver eyes glitter .
Those wall clocks
the nails that have hung all those hammer-struck faces,
even my face, they are younger than the hands
that set them there,
younger than the sleepless pad of my bare feet.
What great teaching unpacks this emptiness?
Perhaps the dandelion seeds
or the act of their dispersal are the revelation,
or maybe the rustle of mothwings --- a whisper
of some yet other enormity lost now
in the minds shabby pockets.
full moon is hiding
tonight clouds disperse showers
some disappointment
Disperse Into Times That Are Terse
Though there are times that are terse
What had happened should rehearse;
When we did,
God forbid;
It could end up being another curse.
Jim Horn
Disperse the ego
Reduce the hurt
Don’t survive on pride
Or you may head dive
Into an ocean of suffering
You may end with nothing
At the end of the day
Don’t forget to pray
Not all things go our way
So don’t be a fool be the authentic you
Find your love and share it
Don’t forget to be caring
Don’t ever believe
Your too good for things
Stay humble and grounded
Happy and rounded
And be true to all that you do
For you can choose
The right path for you.
ah love is the magic of the universe,
without it shades of grey the curse,
so keep it right ...this sweet delight,
cos happiness can disperse...
and you will be sorry!
Don
My mind is an eddy in a world of noise,
Silent, still, focused without will,
Hovering on the outskirts of the universe,
Where streams of consciousness coalesce and disperse.
Beyond epistemic wonder, to which we clutch,
Lucidity arises from beyond the veil,
The sliver of reason incarnate,
Between the objective and subjective ego.
And through this void,
Where the ‘self’ has no place,
Certain clarity resides,
An all-encompassing sensation begins to override,
Connected to the boundless depths of space and time.
Filling the chasm where once one did reside,
Now two, drifting celestial bodies gracefully collide,
Complex vessels folding into one, another,
Negating the improbable, they glide effortlessly into place,
Complimentary domains: only natural design could embrace.
Brisk
breeze blows
before grim
gray gargoyle clouds
explode with static glee
rinsing the joyous sweat from
fleeing parents and progeny
scattering like insects in the spray
of annoyance at their sheer existence.
En darkened skin
and sultry eyes
compelling me to write,
long orange claws
on dainty hands,
long dark hair
with a golden sheen
silhouetting a scrum shish face,
one that draws you in,
makes you reminisce,
but in silence
her sad eyes
speak volumes,,
something hidden,
something unspoken
something lost.
If I had one chance
to run a claw
down her cheek
I could drive those thoughts away,
disperse those illicit memories
and create
a whole new horizon.