Dig Out

Push aside the rubble

Of that collapsed life

How it crumbled down around you

Buried you under all you could not do

The beams across your legs

Fallen structures in your mind

All the expectations that they told you

Held treasured happiness unkind

Crawl away from every moment

Tangled ankles tightly wound

The edifice of other’s imperfect ideation

Of a life of satisfaction

Would not stand firm around the fire in your soul

You burned it down

Smoldering and crumbled

From the ashes you have rumbled

To wander and to search now

For something ethereal and true

Far out of reach

Not well defined

Balanced on the wire

Of uncertainty and exploration

Through mists of dreams anticipation

Don’t look back

Don’t look down

Each step takes your full concentration

Until you reach new ground

Blaze the trail through mystery

Among the trees of wisdom

Revive your spirit

Drink deeply from the clear calm lake

Of peaceful contemplation

You were meant to wonder

Your were meant to question

You are here to redefine

You are here to realign

Leave the ruins there

To be covered by the vines

Let the past be fallow

Plant your dream into the wind

All your intentions changing patterns

Circle thrice and say the words

Singing chanting writing

The world is waiting for your voice

For your stepping into power

Dance the dance that’s dancing

The music of your life

Something greater than yourself

Is emerging

Calling you away from strife

One more step and you can fly now

One more turn and you will soar

The wings that you’ve been growing

Snapping open

Stretching wide

Fly up with me, my friend

We meet again outside of time

We meet again outside of time

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Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Wild Dreaming

We gallop across clouded fields

In the sky running for the stars

Our manes are flags flying colors bold

We leap across glowing nebulous pools

Racing onward

We are flight and fury

Born to run and not to fight

Unless cornered

So we stay open

Centered

Watchful as we shift our weight

When we graze

Secure in the group

Sharing the responsibility

Of safety

When the wolves leap from the bush

We spring away headlong

We were coiled for just this moment

We prey

We are gone like mist and smoke

Disappearing into depths of shadows and woods

We thunder

The wolves howl

The moon catches us all

In her quiet regard

Boats On The Water

The harbor is spiked with masts of the vessels which have gathered under the low grey clouds. I am out on the edge in my small boat pulled up next to another. We are talking about where to tether our boats deeper into the bay, closer to shore. He says he will meet me there at the red boat. Do I see it?

In the gap between a large white boat, and a smaller grey boat, I can see almost to the shore. There is a mysterious natural wood boat, darkened with age and layers of pitch which catches my eye before the sleek, sharply rising hull of the red boat swings into view. The smooth water is lapping quietly between us as conversations and the occasional shout drift out over the water.

Go there he says, and I take up my paddle to thread through the anchor ropes and towering sides.

The red boat with the white surface has people sitting on the top when I pull up alongside. Three people are sitting out on top, and I greet them. May I tie up here? I ask them. The red haired man doesn’t turn his head my way, and the brunette woman is gazing off the other side of the boat. A younger man in shorts hops up and takes my rope. Come aboard, he said. There’s food in the galley.

Down in the galley, a dark haired woman with straight shoulder length hair which swings as she moves, is sweeping the floor. The broom and her hair seem to be dancing to the music playing. I don’t see the source of the sweet sounds, and thumping drums, and she’s talking as she moves in and around the others.

“The thing is he’s said the same things to me as he says to all the women. So, each one believes they are the only one he’s interested in, even though he tells us he doesn’t want to be in a relationship. We don’t believe him. We fill in the blank spaces with our stories. He seems so interested, attentive, and focused on us, and we want so desperately to believe that our devotion will bring him around…”

The man in shorts hands me a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. His bright eyes crinkle when he smiles and points out a spot at the table for me. I thank him, and sit next to a woman overflowing her brightly colored sundress. Her hair is pulled back, and from her ears dangle circles within circles of shaped wooden earrings. She has tossed her head back and is laughing loudly before leaning forward on an elbow, and pointing her toast at the sweeper.

“Aye, he told me the same just yesterday. And you’re the fool as much as me, and that cantina woman too. But none of us will give him up, either.”

The eggs are almost well cooked, a little soft for my liking, but the flavor is good, and the toast buttered.

I am listening and waiting, and wondering when he will get here. Is their him, my him? Am I a fool as well, I wonder as I swallow the last bite of bacon.

A mug of coffee is set down by my empty plate, and then the plate is taken away. I turn to see who took my plate, but all I see is the back of a green dress with curls cascading down it.

The hustle and the bustle of the kitchen had been soothing. Clatter of plates and forks, and laughter to music, and conversation of people well acquainted, but I feel the shift as well as hear it when every sound becomes sharper, and the colors brighten and the light dims. I drink a sip of my coffee, and then take the mug and stand up, a stranger looming in the center of this space. No one glances at me now.

I go back out onto the deck. Already the dark has crept in across the water. I stand at the railing, and listen to the harbor. I listen to the sounds of the bay as they soften. I see a lantern lit, and shadows set about on distant decks as they prepare for night. Someone off to the shoreside begins to play a flute.

I wake up in comfort, surrounded by white sheets, blankets, walls. The wood trim around doors and windows have been white washed. The bed is soft and firm, and the pillow thin the way I prefer. I stretch and wonder where I am, and how I got here. I note the lack of anxiety, and think maybe I should feel more concerned, but the door opens, and a woman in a white dress, blonde hair upswept enters with a dark wooden tray which she sets bedside.

She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls down my covers. I watch to see what she will do, and she says, “I would encapsulate your capillaries.”

Now, I feel concerned and sit up asking her, “What does that even mean?”

She is pouting, and beginning to melt. I hear car doors, and the walls of the room fall away into blackness.

The comforting slats of this futon beneath me, I awaken more fully. Thinking of boats on the water, and wondering about the hearts gathered in the harbor ready to sail, I rise to make the coffee.

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Photo by Zukiman Mohamad on Pexels.com

Been There

Drove around a corner

Straight into the curve

From a dream I had years ago

If only I remembered

The why as well as when

My heart lived on that road

Then

I’ve already been there

I’ve been here some time

Driving hills and valleys

Melting trees as I pass

Flying roads like they were

Lava

The event horizon approaching

Every time I close my eyes

Jumping forward and backward in time

No anchor

Roots

Like a tree spanning generations

My leaves whisper through time

Preparing me always

For love

Let my heart fly

Let my heart live where it will

Watch it multiply

See it grow

Breaking bigger every time

So much pain

So much joy

I know my heart lives with you love

Take care

Take care

Of you

What Dreams Of Me

In the back of the dark

What could be night awakens

The thread of life unrolling

Pursuing every step I make

Tangles in my feet and hair

Faster than my fear

I cannot run

Outpaced

Outfaced

Exposed

What could be dawn still sleeping

This twilight world this dream

Nothing solid nothing real

I touch you and you melt away

You reach for me and fade

Across the atmospheric void

A thousand points of lights

Webs of threaded lives entangled

Winking in and out of strife

My heart my heart my heart my heart

Let loose and shine

My heart my heart my heart my heart

One more time

One more time

Love this life

Love this life

What dreams of me are there

What dreams of me is stirring

What dreams of me will wake

What dreams of me will go on as I become

A memory

A distant dream a message

Wipes the sleep from eyes

Forgets me on the way to breakfast

What dreams of me

Destroyed my appetite

No dawn nor dusk

No shining lights

No hungry ghosts or joy

My run becomes a dance

A last chance a next chance a big chance

I reach

I leap

I love

Falling gently into a dream that is my own

And what dreams of me

Has lost me

I awaken and forget the tales of sleep

On the way to breakfast

My heart my love my appetite returns

Daily Poem – Constellation (with Audio) 11/24/2020

(Reposted with Sung Poetry link)

Take the shot, they said

I ran my finger around the rim of the glass

The fumes of insults bitter rose

Hard liquor is not for me, I tell them,

I remember when I drank that poison

Dancing lightly to the tune of other people’s dreams

I just slip out the back door, now

To smoke freedom in the alley

Walk out onto the sidewalk under lamp posts

Glowing golden in the night

To wander empty city streets and dream

Of communal integration and

Hopes of equitable contribution

My thoughts become a world renewed

By pleasant innovation

Before I know it, I’ve gone home

A waiting invocation to a peaceful

Destination brought by sleepy

Contemplation

In the morning, I will rise

Put some plans upon the table

Avoid stinging tribunals from defenders

Of the status quo

Fanciful rebellion built from cotton candy

Musings

Holding sacred all the precious beauty

Which has become the inspiration

For each flowering consolation

What is love if not the logical progression

Of earthly preservation plus

The deeply cultivated reverence

For each human’s common situation

Temporary permanence

On a trip or two around the sun

What have we won with greed

What have we lost with need

Unfulfilled and

Running headlong in between

The birthing and the grave

Full stop

Give me your hand

Let’s watch the sun caress the sky

Whether rising

Whether sinking

We are written within time’s eternal

Constellation

Behind the Song: When Beggars Ride

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Is a saying which means that merely thinking about something doesn’t get the job accomplished, and was used as a sort of rebuke to the poor, but that’s doesn’t have to be the whole story.

I thought about how dreams are motivation to attempt the extraordinary. With opportunity and self-discipline, people can change their lives, accomplish amazing goals, and reach their dreams. Wishes are hopes defined, and dreams make life worth living.

I wanted this song to celebrate the creative process, the risk taking, and the determination it takes to get new ventures off the ground, or to solve particularly tricky problems. I wanted the feeling of it to be relaxed, and dreamy as solutions and vision come to us when we are in a receptive state of mind. And I wrote it further along in the story, with the beggars on the way to the goal, doing the impossible in a more equitable world for everyone.


When beggars ride, they can change the world.

~ Wendy Kheiry

Find When Beggars Ride at the links below

Deezer

Spotify

YouTube

Apple Music

Lyrics to Patchwork Blue Songs are Now Posted

Patchwork Blue has been variously described as a smoldering fire (I am assured this is a good thing), Avant Garde, Soundtrack music, and as defying expectations (some people liked this, and some did not).

This collaborative album I did with my friend, Rosalie, was born out of free form improvisation with jazz and Blues influences. The album is out on major digital markets. There are 10 songs on the album, 2 are instrumentals.

We had a request for the lyrics, and so I’ve posted them, and thought you-all might like to read them. 🙂

Survival is a form of Improvisation.

Also, I posted this new work on SoundCloud. It’s a sad, gloomy, and makes you wonder why I’m still breathing kind of song, but it captures that moment when I quite seriously felt that my existence here is just plodding on to the end, because what else am I going to do? Some losses can feel like that…but that feeling lifts eventually, maybe showing up in waves, each time a little less severe, a little less sad, a little less lonely. And if you’ve lost someone, and grieve so deeply, I’m sorry.

Grief is a difficult companion, but no one walks without it unless they cannot love. So, you loved well, and will heal in time, building the strength to carry it.

I took this song off of SoundCloud to rework it. So this is a dead link:

Desert Thunder

It is always night when we ride now

The sun has set on this herd

As they surround me and I rise from a bed of dreams

He is there larger and darker in spirit than in life

I mount. The herd spins and we ride through the glowing skies

Clouds like sand beneath us

Thunder

We ride at dawn. It’s always dawn. Yes.