Christ carries cross
want wakes wisdom
mantis mauls mate
music makes merry
sun sparkles snowman
thinking takes time
fear frames future
ivy interlaces iochroma
caterpillar chews cottonweed
rain reflects rainbow
sin stimulates sickness
As I’m bowed, in cares distraught
Lightness unbends, thru an arbor caught
In the rigid coils of tight binds
Gladness interlaces with vines that unwind
Netted in a shadow of grasping night
Moonlit petals glow their reflective sight
Entrenched in weight of concrete inveighs
Nectarine wings point the scented airy way…
This entry is just the beginning of sanctuary
Gardens small grow and call the wisdom of trees…
Utopian dreams realign where nature breathes
Inviting serenity in wraps of soothing wreathes
Deep as the roots and high as a sun-ride
Elevation is granted where greenery’s the guide.
(8/18/2020: '87 Skipjack 28; Fresno. Sanctuary contest)
Once wholly stripped
of its crippling inhibitions
a mind rummages, unfettered
beyond mundane thoughts
delving along beveled edges
of a pensively distorted mirror
as though it sees inside a heart
reflections in purest pigments
the genuine acumen of art
In deep translucent shadows
the artist interlaces light and dark
revealing with candid strokes
the truths and validities of life
Paint drips from his brush
onto a canvas of fleshly white
working with intense veracity
as morning sun becomes moonlight
With passion unmasked
he relies on blind intuition
and paints a somatic portrait
Visions found while in a trance
ochre and indigo, texture in black
bloodletting hues of crimson lust
An abstract of motley conveyance
he titled, "Into Life Man is Thrust"
The larval stage that insinuates
a protective agony made of silk
Interlaces incipience quilted diametrically
Which twitches against cogitation and reasoning closing in...
The same as guilt
Or what guilt started as.
Unforeseen contingency's photo flash
An illusion based on disappointment.
Crime.
Each searching for a way to Each searching for a way to multiply
Or the beauty to escape life's cocoon
without wings.
Moving without strings guided towards confusion.
The maze made of milk.
So I tell myself, "Everything will be OK."
But why do I feel worthless...
When what I'm getting is good for me?
Surprise! Feelings don't change until you do
Society fakes the facade as usual
And crime stays...
So I use words as wings and fly, fly away.
2/4/2016
Upturned Chinese roofs
In a soft silhouette
Look so majestic
On top of the hill—
Encompassed in fog
In low light and shadows,
Quite simply surreal—
Boats filled with refugees
Fleeing Shanghai from
The Japanese invasion
‘Midst the chaos of war.
Gentle waves lap against
Boat hulls in dire contrast
To the noisy bomb blasts.
As shown on drawn faces
Fear and faith interlaces
With a hopeful resolve.
Comrades of all races
Are joined in this throng.
They sail away to far places
Not knowing their fate,
As in divine kinship
They now all belong.
Note* I was inspired to write this piece by a wonderful
movie I watched called The White Countess.