Tag Archives: death

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Weeping Trees of Life

My tree of life too often weeps

willowing down toward grounded roots

sustaining all this weight of history.

 

Our tree of life grows up and down,

a tree of cultured composting ground

up through tiny reaching tendrils

laced to root-unwinding system growth,

up toward light and air and breeze

and full-bloomed flower of polyculturing praise.

 

My life tree weeps for fear of death

tear-seeds reining in my soul

winking down through fertile ground

where springs bring hope of day.

 

Not all trees are weeping trees.

We tend to grow near watered streams

flooding nutrintegritative souls

awash in tears

informed by years of self-encultured

sadness ignored by upright stretch

of stronger Yangish stuff,

with dryer roots.

 

My tree of life too often weeps

to grow up as an oak

filled willow to reach around this Earth

and dance with roots

gracefully embracing soulfilled

gravitating rhythms

of regenesis.

 

My tree of life too often weeps to grow.

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Paradise Reincarnating

There is a hope among my people

that after life may be as we most wish

our hope of peaceful dreams fulfilled.

 

We call this hope Paradise,

Beloved Community,

for some an Edenic Garden of

permacultured polycultural

color-dense absorbent nutrients,

mutual succulence

of sight

and touch

and sound

and fragrant mind and time balanced graciously,

richly hued and tasted.

 

It seems important to incarnate this dream

now

where we are

with whom we are,

our Self and our Other right relationships,

and our normative awareness of Original Intent.

This mouthful is our mindful.

 

To live actively and peacefully toward that future

we would most hope to continue

to remember

to reincarnate

to pass from still toward bi-sonic reweaving

on the other side of this potentiating incubator.

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Fun Home

For Robin Williams

 

This seems a funny time to die

right when everything stops working,

play disappears

with terminal humor.

So, is anyone left out there?

Is anyone home

devouring the last bite of this American pie?

 

I often laughed til I cried

addicted tears of joy

for faith in where we meet

our longing just to join.

 

I cannot belong here anymore.

Incarnation pulls and tears

addicted to this power of faith

we belong back together,

a jigsaw puzzle cast astray

with no pieces missing

except me, somehow

sometimes

some place?

 

Where is my place

when spacetime greys to fog

enclosing colored laughter

in joyless tomb of  mutual decomprehension?

 

This could be a happy time to die

a final song to reach front page

screaming waves of not so solemn

remembering

religioning

togathering Earth and Sky,

death with hope,

tear flowing night

of dark ecstatic be-longing.

 

If I could,

it it would be enough for you,

I would burn my soul

to reach you.

Could we laugh our soul

to teach us once belong a time?

 

Good morning, america…

this seems a funny time….

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Face to Face Reweaving

I remember feeling special

hoping for a path beyond the Law of reason

with shamanic powers

to grasp and change

and save myself,

my family from death,

uninvited decay and dissonance.

 

Owl came to whisper

“Shaman-child, be born again”

I was afraid to die with Her.

Purgation feels wrong and putrid,

an offense to creating hope and faith.

This death would be too common

for my Self-potential Shaman.

 

Bear came to teach me

hibernation’s coincidental embrace,

and not death.

My cave of fear is where I sleep

until spacetime is ready

to call forth one of her eternal pearls.

One among all, each with our place

and time to shine

smooth-structured

fluid,

a reincarnating pearl

well-strung strong

in harmonious round octave

to carry forth our future

pearl of paradise.

 

Yet still I want and wait and balk and fear

disgraced ungrateful,

ungraced disgrateful,

wishing victory for my silent cave

of dark potential integrity.

If I could make it so

I would,

to call out Spring of hope at last

our season of regenesis,

but are we ready?

So still I wait and balk and fear.

I confuse my faith

with our self-consciousness.

 

Raven calls the Shaman call

within Elder cave’s cell-consciousness;

regenesis is always near

between tomorrow and right now.

We are only this integrity,

Eternal Moment’s potentiality

toward vast polyculturant affection

through present’s winnowing comparison

with past negative effects.

Shared black silo of fearful smothering

alone without relationship to space or time.

Turn around.

Our positive pilgrimage rises convexly,

together toward expanding solidarity.

 

With obedient trepidation

I face about to face the face

Other knows about,

with timid voice, I hesitate,

“Does the Shaman assembly accept your verdict?”

 

It’s not my place to speak this way

but silence screams back to me

“Okay.”

 

More confident with building hope

“Does our shamanic assembly accept our verdict?”

Again the reconnecting cave of reconciliating

silent wisdom string

stretching back through cultured history of pearls.

 

Incarnating faith,

with graceful dance of presence,

“Do we accept present integrity

of future’s positive promise?”

I sing our dance

reechoing strings of eco-normic pearls

toward future’s present past.

 

Permacultured pearls prance prescient presence.

 

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EcoTribal Dreams

I am,

Identity insists.

We are,

Individuation explains.

 

We are,

beat heart, breathe lungs, bicamerals brain,

this coincidental life, this day, this moment;

implied positive potentiality nesting within tomorrow,

and next moment,

event,

relationship,

communication strings and strains

informing life,

exforming death,

transforming life

as fractal-cultured compost.

 

Myth refines,

Logos defines;

while Yin and Yang make hoopy-swoopy,

wavilinear strings of QBit formating confidence.

 

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