Poetry

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• Five Second Rule

ODE

She plays me with her guitar
From the stage comes forth
This melody
This rhythm
It washes over me -
Floods through me.
Flows into and out of me.
As my body is played
By the sound
The way her fingers
Stroke the strings.

The movement is
One Force
That billows around me
Embraces me.
She holds me -
No -
IT holds me
The creature, the creation,
The life that is the music.

Her baby
Her child
And as with earthly, bodily forms -
The stuff of her is in it.
In her child
That now is Our child
Just her, me, and forty or so of our closest friends.

But this is the night of
Conception and birth
My still being hooked
On that conception part.

It is a sexual union
That precedes and yet IS the birth.

I taste her essence -
On my spiritual tongue.
The sweet scent of her soul
Approaches these inadequate
Senses that I have -
Not equipped to deal with
The empathy of
My present state.

She and I
She and her guitar
She and I and her guitar and the music
Are One
Along with forty of so of our closest friends.

I am drinking her up
Until -
She becomes aware
And withdraws
So thoroughly that
My heart hits the silence.

Stop.

From one Fruit Loop to the Others

I’m the “What the heck was that?” factor in God’s world.

You know how, when eating a bowl of Fruit Loops, you get those weird colors that are a mix of the others, though they are not supposed to be?

Most Fruit Loops have their defined descriptions and their roles are easily understood.
The red ones are nice and playful and delicious.
The orange! Wow, well, the orange just pop out with a “Play with me!” kind of thing.
The blue ones are calming and soothing.
Purple? That’s rather a majestically colored one - maybe even a little snooty.
The green ones are vibrant and life-giving.
And the yellow! Well, those yellow loops look like the Sun, bringing light!

Me, I’m that one that sits stubbornly in the middle of the bowl, refusing to be any color at all. I’m that odd mix of dye and shaping that knows no real definition, but always catches the eye. My Loop is a bit asymmetrical – and the outline of me changes depending upon the perspective of the one peering into the bowl.

I’m the Fruit Loop that makes people think about their very definition of a Fruit Loop. I break open the walls of their expectations. – And from one Fruit Loop to another, I must tell you that it’s not EASY to be a Fruit Loop of a different and unexplainable nature, but it is necessary. It is a gift, and if you try just a little, if you close your eyes and think really, really hard, I’ll bet that you can bend your loop a little, bring a spot of a different kind onto your surface, experience what it is like to be in the unfamiliar. Then, search me out – and we’ll find a bowl of rich milk, none of that 2% stuff, in which to play - together.

God's Love Note

Humans Being

These are baby people
These are baby souls
These separatist spirits
That can not fly to the heights
Soar to the depths of
Possible feelings.
Feeling that adjoining
Of Godness –
Of Goodness –
Of flight –
Of free will.

Willing themselves to
Ever greater majesty,
Glory,
Grace.

To look out from their perch –
Their unique perspective
On the precipice of Gods’ face.
A Face of Us All.

This love –

It’s green, new leaves,
Following my birth.

It’s fresh puppies
And mewling kittens
Still wet
From the licking
Of Mother’s cleansing tongue.

It’s the smell of burning wood,
Camouflage shirts,
Crisp mornings
With brilliant sunrises.

It’s about the earth
And all of our places in it.

It’s the presence of metal
Coated with grease
And the rough
Smell of the sweat
On my uncle’s hands.

It’s the sight of a
Disassembled carburetor,
And the loving
Care of reassembly.

It’s about responsibility.
Gritty, earthy honesty
Especially when it hurts.

It’s the hushed whispers
Of strawberry-blonde cousins –
Twice removed –
Underneath the stacks of hay,
And caring, gentle
Hands through clothes
Embracing flushes
Of first love’s lessons.

You are my roots
A planting –
A wait for blooming
Deep inside of me

Five Second Rule