The encroaching walls grow thin and cold,
Senses perceive
But do not penetrate the frail veneer of manifest destiny.
Darkness within
Is illuminated by imaginative revelations,
Neither goodness or mercy puncture the haze of sorrow.
Within and without,
Concepts of timeless elegance.
Light lingers lastly, yet darkness remains.
Soulful memories stand with current doubts,
There has been, and will always be,
Existence beyond the visible spectrum, another dimension.
Mind Sorts
Placed on hasty battlements.
White winged against the neon sky.
Pangs of love afflict us as we view the scene.
Primal duties fail.
While pressing thought return.
Then and now fade into timeless elegance.
Systems without form.
Images without design.
Depths inviolate within themselves.
Man crawls but cannot dance the dance of eternity.
Confusion rules at the cracks of dawn.
Awake yet in a dream
We stumble through empty memories.
Convinced they exist, therefore we are.
Completeness without beginning,
We are cast in the mold of tradition.
Oblivious to the march of progress and thought.
Many lies sing with the many fluted voices of an unknowable truth.
We have arrived at the font of the unattainable.
We linger and drink.
The Eolian lyre whispers to an empty persona.
Cut deep in the granite heart of man.
Past and present live simultaneously in the abstract notion of mind.
The future glimmers...Yest becomes engulfed by the past.
Memory imprision what what nature makes last.
While future watchdogs watch empty shores...forevermore.
Here and there...Gaunt faces appear.
Leering and sneering at what has transpired.
Cries of despair rack tortured limbs,
While many-footed elephants stomp contemporary fears.
Victims of an impenetrable facade.
Parades of dour faces, march through engines that wail,
The loss of individuality.
Today's future stinks of yesterday's trash...blind and furious.
Wail the dogs of the day - as many footed elephants do cringe and play.
the child of man lies blue and short of breath
Life ekes out a scabrous existence on honey rich shores, of azure and pain.
What will be always depends on what has been.
Lofty thoughts have crashed in a blaze of glory...
Shatteredpieces block the crowded streets,
Willy-nilly masses run from pieces of a present truth.
Above the scene...a lone eagle soars on wings of hope.
slowly, the gyre widens and finally crashes on the dream of man.
The Pheonix floats in asure skies,
To mark the fourth millennium.
The world shudders at the winds of change.
What imagination proposes, the scirocco destroys.
Granite-hearted elephants dance the timeless dance...Content in their movements,
Forevermore...Live and blood mingle, in rivers flowing down to a twilight sea.
Empty and full, the Pheonix floats away,
Dismal to the eye, yet music to the soul
morality tale
Friday, December 2, 2011
Rapture of Night copyright 2010
Shooting stars shimmer and skip through the inky night,
Corruscating columns ethereal light, churning delight.
Weaving, leaving, bobbing and weaving - fulcrums of light.
Enshrouded in mystery, sidereal streaks ablaze,
Watched in wonder, awed, senses amazed.
Witches or Warlocks, Wraiths, Watchmen, all gaze.
Scouring the firmament, our eyes dream, now suddenly wrest,
Confusion stikes, awareness seeps inside, an unwanted guest.
Whispered prayers, oaths and slurs, decry now a myth,
Celestial, unearthly, cosmic life bequeath a planet's allure,
Heavenly bodies shadow meanings obscured.
Couched in conundrums, connoting questions or prayers,
Endless enigmas engage enchanted soothsayers,
Far-flung sparkles that dance magically away,
Entralled and enraptured, 'til the end of days
Corruscating columns ethereal light, churning delight.
Weaving, leaving, bobbing and weaving - fulcrums of light.
Enshrouded in mystery, sidereal streaks ablaze,
Watched in wonder, awed, senses amazed.
Witches or Warlocks, Wraiths, Watchmen, all gaze.
Scouring the firmament, our eyes dream, now suddenly wrest,
Confusion stikes, awareness seeps inside, an unwanted guest.
Whispered prayers, oaths and slurs, decry now a myth,
Celestial, unearthly, cosmic life bequeath a planet's allure,
Heavenly bodies shadow meanings obscured.
Couched in conundrums, connoting questions or prayers,
Endless enigmas engage enchanted soothsayers,
Far-flung sparkles that dance magically away,
Entralled and enraptured, 'til the end of days
the Beach
Brilliant sunshine scorched the sandy beach with blistering rays. The tang of the ocean's salty smell and ephemeral mist floated on the wind, as if the very essence of the ocean joined the air's moist and impalpable form. Large waves boomed as they crashed onto a long, curving rock promontory, their tremendous power now transformed into a cloud of floating droplets and wispy sprays. Slowly reforming their density and weight, the receding breakers reclaimed the falling vaporous tendrils of haze as it retreated into the sea, ready to regroup for another attack. Playful Sand Pipers hopped about, searching the moist sand for their preferred dinner of periwinkles, mussels, and other beach tidbits.
Here and there, scavenging sea gulls flocked about, feasting on the vulnerable crabs and starfish exposed by the morning tide. Small rock pools teemed with myriad sea creatures; although trapped, they were content to wait for the familiar returning tide and freedom. As always, life here revolved around the vast bounty of a sea alive with thousands of different marine species; they all counted on their clean and pristine environment, just as mammals depend on clean air.
It was a beautiful, but ephemeral vista; the seascape changed with the time of day, subject to seasonal storms and erratic weather. Sleepy sunlight in the morning progressed to furnace-like rays at noon, slowly waning as the sun dropped in the sky, as the descending curtain of twilight changed the vista with moonlight or the veil of night. Certain features retained their form. The shoreline was as it always had been: fine white sand framed by sculptured rock, slowly altered by the ravages of wind and wave - a living canvass etched by the mercurial moods of Mother Nature.
Far out to sea, several miles from the island's atoll, a tremendous explosion went unnoticed by the seashore's busy creatures. A passing pod of killer whales were startled by the noise, and instinctively turning away from the sharp sounds of screeching metal, resuming their leisurely pursuit of food.
It came bit by bit. At first, only small black streaks were washed ashore by the pounding surf. Soon, the relentless waves were spreading jet-black blankets over the once pure white sand. Tidal pools that once contained life now became cesspools of death. The noxious ooze soon turned the beach into a black carpet that stretched as far as the eye could see. A tar covered gull struggled to free itself from the sticky mire, but could only wiggle it's clotted wings and offer a mournful cry from it's oil encrusted beak.
Far from the scene of death, a well-polished mahogany conference desk gleamed in the sun. The room’s rich décor projected money, class, and power. A group of nattily dressed executives occupied luxurious leather chairs, listening to the tall, distinguished man at the head of the table. “Gentlemen”, he began, “recent events in the gulf have provided an opportunity, but we must act fast. If OPEC turns off the pumps, oil prices will skyrocket, and we are the ones who will gain. We’re reactivating our entire tanker fleet to fill our storage tanks. An executive raised his hand to ask a question. “Mr. Morgan, are we including the mothballed in Seattle? Morgan raised his eyebrows and replied, “Yes. I want our storage tanks full. Prices will be sky-high and our stockholders, ourselves included, will make a fortune.
The room erupted in polite applause; elated stockholders and pompous Chairmen swapped claims of personal additions, generally extolling their good fortune. After the round of congratulatory backslaps and glad-handing finished, the room settled down, and everyone returned to reports and charts.
Through an open window, the haunting cry of a passing gull caused a few to glance up at the disturbance. A well-dressed executive, his oily black hair immaculately coiffed, walked over and shut the window: the noisy birds were a nuisance and a pest.
Here and there, scavenging sea gulls flocked about, feasting on the vulnerable crabs and starfish exposed by the morning tide. Small rock pools teemed with myriad sea creatures; although trapped, they were content to wait for the familiar returning tide and freedom. As always, life here revolved around the vast bounty of a sea alive with thousands of different marine species; they all counted on their clean and pristine environment, just as mammals depend on clean air.
It was a beautiful, but ephemeral vista; the seascape changed with the time of day, subject to seasonal storms and erratic weather. Sleepy sunlight in the morning progressed to furnace-like rays at noon, slowly waning as the sun dropped in the sky, as the descending curtain of twilight changed the vista with moonlight or the veil of night. Certain features retained their form. The shoreline was as it always had been: fine white sand framed by sculptured rock, slowly altered by the ravages of wind and wave - a living canvass etched by the mercurial moods of Mother Nature.
Far out to sea, several miles from the island's atoll, a tremendous explosion went unnoticed by the seashore's busy creatures. A passing pod of killer whales were startled by the noise, and instinctively turning away from the sharp sounds of screeching metal, resuming their leisurely pursuit of food.
It came bit by bit. At first, only small black streaks were washed ashore by the pounding surf. Soon, the relentless waves were spreading jet-black blankets over the once pure white sand. Tidal pools that once contained life now became cesspools of death. The noxious ooze soon turned the beach into a black carpet that stretched as far as the eye could see. A tar covered gull struggled to free itself from the sticky mire, but could only wiggle it's clotted wings and offer a mournful cry from it's oil encrusted beak.
Far from the scene of death, a well-polished mahogany conference desk gleamed in the sun. The room’s rich décor projected money, class, and power. A group of nattily dressed executives occupied luxurious leather chairs, listening to the tall, distinguished man at the head of the table. “Gentlemen”, he began, “recent events in the gulf have provided an opportunity, but we must act fast. If OPEC turns off the pumps, oil prices will skyrocket, and we are the ones who will gain. We’re reactivating our entire tanker fleet to fill our storage tanks. An executive raised his hand to ask a question. “Mr. Morgan, are we including the mothballed in Seattle? Morgan raised his eyebrows and replied, “Yes. I want our storage tanks full. Prices will be sky-high and our stockholders, ourselves included, will make a fortune.
The room erupted in polite applause; elated stockholders and pompous Chairmen swapped claims of personal additions, generally extolling their good fortune. After the round of congratulatory backslaps and glad-handing finished, the room settled down, and everyone returned to reports and charts.
Through an open window, the haunting cry of a passing gull caused a few to glance up at the disturbance. A well-dressed executive, his oily black hair immaculately coiffed, walked over and shut the window: the noisy birds were a nuisance and a pest.
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