All hail that which is past,
Yet eternal in ever the ever last that was winter.
Here my mothers illusions slept on occasion to twist in her slumber.
Wipe away the mist from this all reflective mirror.
How I did feel as the only one awake in this silence. An age of searching inwards to out and all about for a little light, only to be shaken at minds past foolish violence.
Up against the last remnants of another wall - created in all these lives.
Watching the dissipating shadows and being edged on by mad whispers. "Be I, Be I."
The embryos of truth stab like knives.
Jerkily awoken to a half remembered dream neatly broken, to lay staring at the all seeing sun and slowly crawling back inside to let these eyes be taken.
Up naked as more and more I refuse to wear the cloak of material burdens.
I enter the temple, so much it has witnessed. I have moved, been and seen and along the way misunderstood, ignored and forgotten. Never again to be programmed by society and it's popular insanities.
So how many here willing, with sight and sound have accepted themselves?
FALL......
December do not let me remember your dark blind vision.
Looking back in time searching for messages in words of rhyme, discover karma crimes committed. What if anything a spirit a soul, mind, eye... Self has omitted?
Thursday - I do not know however, I like a Thursday!
When I let out that primal scream, a first in this life and certainly not the last. Torn, "Free", yes forced from the mother womb, out into this winter tomb.
I AM, WE ARE I. I AM THAT I AM.
Would they could they now burn me for heresy? For that which is my truth. To of passed by those considered masters.
Fooling and Striving for a few seconds light, in that few seconds the whole multiverse is looking so simple and ultimately more complex.
So... another Thursday, another birthday.
To spend the day waiting for something to happen. In the evening to have a party with 3 cards, making the shapes and patterns move about tell stories and the like.
Crying all the while, only fair my first time as a man.
Jonathan MacLean-Lambie
©1992 - 2011
This is the first of two poems I recited at the Artists & Academics Gig at Tchai Ovna
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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