helm gold
face old
steeled eyes
sealed guise
firm nose
born woes
lips locked
pain blocked
old scars
past wars
blood shed
he bled
A friend told me
over a cup of joe
that the devil quakes in Prada,
barring the gates of hell
from the one who now hunts
beyond the mortal plane.
I chuckled, asking
“If that were the case,
wouldn't the sky be a constant
affixed with blinding cracks
electrifying both day and night?”
He simply shook his head, grinning.
Then the flash of a screen drew attention
to images of Death shell-shocked,
huddling in a hospital bed, quaking
with agonized fervor as if
he saw Death himself and lived.
It was then I knew
he was speaking the truth
as the sky crackled above
with bolts clashing
like steeled fists,
reunited at last.
through bone marrow, an ordainment
cruises, initiated plasma expecting
sit strategic observe vibrations
lips inward as pursing to utter mama
softly whisper, then careful cobra hiss
tongue presses roof for decisive ignition
hills like Rainbow Vinicunca nurture
becoming erect, spine steeled slither
clocked, emphatic descent to reascend
spirit’s grains congealed prudent
guiding kernel’s evolutionary action
imperative transformation willed
_______________________________
Amazing fellow, this Wind.
No hands to clutch.
Yet demonstrates a sculptor's
Deftness of touch.
Behold, as an example
Dune's hilled sample.
As which spirit, wizard-like
This abstruse too
Nothing, nimble-fingered, felt
Works our lives through.
Look again; that built up for
No sand! Steeled more!
Dusk shone lavender toned skies upon the mountain field
where scattered trees with wizened limbs were steeled to ground.
High grass tickled their small legs while they giggled and ran.
Intoxicated by freedom from rules and the summon of fireflies,
they were four cousins with jars on a lark never known before.
All under nine but two would wake the morn to lifelong heartache.
Hold steady focus on Self by day and night,
until save the bliss mist nothing else remains,
that with resolve steeled thus, we garner clear sight,
transforming as the flame, free from ego’s chains.
There are no shortcuts, along the truth search way,
if we seek enlightenment that’s here to stay,
whence the music of the spheres plays by itself,
as we dwell in time stretched peace, as light of Self.
let thoughts slow down and ultimately cease
so that our inner light may be revealed
whence flowing through life like a gentle breeze,
ego vaporises and heart is healed
and holding focus thus, our resolve steeled
on becoming the flame that has no name
we are liberated in life’s end game
how still is our silence if thoughts intrude
even as words in the conception stage
since symbols distort, being always crude
even latent stirrings, mind battles wage
negating this form and the universe
piercing pores of space, stopping flow of time
we as spirit have no need to rehearse
mirroring God’s heartbeat felt as love’s chime
vibrant thus in a unified force field
transcending the limitations of mind
divine aligned, resolve of our heart steeled
we attain truth that cannot be defined
being both immanent and transcendent
we are fully love and light resplendent
Truth is known when ego is shorn
but what’s imbibed, we can’t pass on,
for how may sunlight be revealed,
to the deluded who shun dawn?
Soul’s light within is not revealed,
unless our heart’s resolve is steeled,
discarding dark desires mundane,
to embrace power God does wield.
Pitter patter of falling rain,
moments when fears are to rest lain,
entwines soul with the universe,
freeing us from thought forms that chain.
A nightingale does not rehearse,
trills of its melodious verse,
flapping wings of muse in delight,
free from ego cravings perverse.
soft murmurs of the heart concealed
allowed not the soul to be healed
contracting its heart day by day
yet displaying persona steeled
bleeding hearts see blue skies as grey
sit beside them, for a while stay
offer a healing transmission
touch of love, warmth of a sun ray
a question is asked
and we are so tasked
to ignite a mind
yet in ego’s bind
we let silence speak
that thus a sneak peek
to soul be revealed
when focus be steeled
the cosmic dancer
becomes the answer
flowing on with ease
and thus questions cease
Soft and smooth, freshly manicured with
No trace left behind of struggle or woe;
Hard to gauge the multitude of daily trials
Or the enormous good and success bestowed.
He’s not afraid to let harsh enemies see his strength.
Strong and firm, his grasp telegraphs immaculate powers,
His steeled convictions and unyielding determination,
And the hell that might rain down in furious showers.
From all directions his enemies test his mettle
Then find themselves wilted on bloody ground.
Respect replaces immature, misguided disdain and fear
When he wields the power of Light and sound.
Gentle, with kindness and bountiful praise
He guides his family and subordinates through remarkable lives.
To others, “You will do it because if you don't...” his favorite phrase,
As he looks intently into their cowardly eyes.
There’s no wavering, no fear. His hopeful message is crystal clear.
Each declaration of his executive powers is deliberately penned
To fight prior injustices, selfish evil, and despicable greed.
The American people know in his powerful hands is all the strength we need.
Pearl Harbor Day was today
feels like it’s gone away
Emotions it once ignited
no longer invited
Determination it long ago steeled
faded forever, without appeal
Forgive Old Glory for shedding a tear
lowered to rest after all these years
("Creation Myth - Anthropomorphic Nebula Merit Badge” #65, 2016, original oil)
Rumors of War
War, war, rumors of war,
Whispered on the winds
Screamed from the rooftops.
Who does it benefit,
What is it good for?
I can tell you this as someone
Who has known it in a million lifetimes
Hand to hand, across trenches,
Behind ramparts and within
Tanks and Hellfire missiles,
It’s not the soldiers, or generals
Nor even their countries
Who ever come out on top.
It is simply humanity
Willing to sacrifice one band for another
So the germ can spread,
Steeled in conflict, hardened by fire
Purified in the sacrifice
Like a virgin on the crest
Of a mighty pyramid.
And when it comes to us
Where will we be?
Cheering in the crowd
Or running for the hills,
Or perhaps hiding in the sewers
Laying low
Waiting for the perfect shot.
(11/27/24)
I lay my dark and spiraled finger
against pure and corded wildwood,
In the wailing current
of the rich wheels of wilderness,
Before the sonant vesper
of dreaming by a worshiping colt,
Shielded from sheaths of stone
by a tree marked in enfolding moss;
The flashing tongues of rolling air
in fluent, black, and breathing flesh,
Smoking in its morning cloak
of great, weaving draperies of fog:
Steeled ink, lashed still and damp
against the awning jaws of dawn.
And from the deep comes soaring
the melody of waters roaring,
Suspended in elephantine glory,
in masterly paintings of old quarry.
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