Decay is a natural process of the universe,
It's, perhaps, a stage of impossibility to nurse.
A seed under the earth can resurrect; not if decayed,
A flower can disperse seeds, till they absolutely fade.
When the functions of traditions and values get weakened,
Unless reformed the degradation gets deadly deepened.
Superstitions and blind faith can make religions decline,
As Jesus said, new wineskins should be filled with new wine.
Will, if less income and more expense, economies thrive?
Could burglars and foolish vendors by the same wagon drive...?
Anything that loses value must be, on time, replaced,
Thoughts, words, and deeds of humanity should be ethics based...!
08 February 2023
Wineskins
the old ones
cannot hold new wine
causing them
to split and crumble..
the new ones
are fresh models
prodding for recognition
midst the crumbling..
we seek explanations for
revolutionary changes which
surprise and frighten..
religion and science
and politics
struggle to place
new thought and findings
into old wineskins..
and the shocking news
is that each one of us carries
the new wineskin in
our own experience:
recognizing now the
unity and peace
of inside and out..
and more shocking:
this intimate wineskin
never has been old...
Sadly she'll never return, dream no more
Woe unto a star fallen without wings
Ever will it sink from the sky to the earth's darkful core
Every pleasant wine is a droplet in wineskins.
Told and retold are the tragedies of love
Nothing beastly doth shred the heart obsessed -
Ever as not being rescued though one would give trove upon trove
Sorrow and pain abides the winepress of sweetness .
Sickly the soul grows old, guitar strings frozen
In a life with just one song through the years
Speak of a heart that will not be shaken -
And quits not, has love, honey turned his bitterest tears.
Groaning upon groaning falls pleasantly as stitch upon stitch
In the moment his weary soul crosses the bar
Realm majestic, departed mother calling canst not him bewitch
Led by an angel he shall cry "Sweetness was a girl. I pray thee a glimpse of her!"
Dusk in Bodega Bay
Soft dunes
Like the backs of gray bulls
And Salmon Creek
Slipping into the Pacific
To the big water
The wineskins of winds
Are open fully
And the Pacific Ocean never pacific
Wages eternal war with a sloping shelf
Where pines lean frightened to the land
When you eat fish in Luka's bar
And you're happy that you're not a fish
Far away in the deep cold water
Where the sun pulled the night up
Like a huge blanket
To cover its legs
I haven't washed my dishes or changed my cat litter,
Roaches cloud my conciousness,
Will I get roaches?
Cause once they infest you,
They're like a cancer,
Faces that don't smile,
Friends with deconstructive criticism,
Deconstructing one's sense of self,
As they infest every corner of space,
Friends come by and they see the roaches,
Laughing in derisive cacophony,
And Raid just ain't gonna cut it,
Roaches cloud my consciousness,
Fox News and Famous Philanderings,
Croud out my rug and kitchen floor,
They manipulate my mindset and keep my healthcare bills deeply hidden behind
brown sugar armies of brown blooded paranoia,
I haven't washed my soul or changed my wineskins,
Roaches cloud my consciousness,
Weapons of mass destruction, hidden beneath my desire to hide the homeless
under my bed,
Instead of washing them clean with Empathic Clorox,
ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES!!!
Where are they?
Cause in the light they scatter to dark places,
And the Islands are shrinking.
Oh! To delight this sacred skin.
Trembling hands tongue tied,
knots strained beyond their hold. Thin
resistence, leather hide
gone supple, silky, still.
New wineskins. Who will fill
the holy cup of righteous yearning?
Quench the fire of passion burning?
Loose the rich, torrid symphony
from cauldron where old songs are churning
out prophecies of harmony?
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