SONG (2007)

I set sail tomorrow,

Packing very little.

A bagel or two,

Leaving at dawn.

The waves beckon me.

Softly, coolly. Wind breaks the sea.

I leave my love

To find adventure.

When I arrive, I’ll say

Hello to all the usual friends:

Those who’ve died,

And some who are wondering.

Though, I won’t wander.

I’ll know where I‘m going.

When they ask me where,

I’ll tell them a secret.

I’m here to conquer the ocean,

I’ll say,

Become one with the rhythm,

And steady still motion.

Become soft, and change.

Always moving. Flowing

Above, the ethereal moon

Catches my eye.

When a worthy temperament rages,

Creating bass booms and

Stages of ego & despair,

I will be there.

When the waters consume

And divide the land

In one unyielding flume,

I will be there.

When the outcry of souls

Overpowers the sun.

When there is none left

To see such remorse,

When the sky is reflected

In deep, dark pools, When

Saints and seraphs seem nowhere,

I will be there.

When new stories told

Are carried through time,

Spilling from a jar of abundant joy,

I will happily be there.

(We all will).

They could be memories.

For me it’s a quest.

A piece of the universe. Well--

This is where I will be.

RIMBAUD

SUNLUCKY DELIGHT

Sleekly built

armchair.

Resting on a towel.

Overturned coffee cups

lie wet.

The morning of a sun.

Dust and air particles

can be seen

in the dense room.

Cherish the mellow

rays

shining in.

THE MIRROR

A mirror.

Stands in front of you

in whispered silence.

“Today is not

the day,”

they say.

The gremlins creep

from all the corners

of the wall; they sneak

inside to watch

you fret and fright

over little things.

Hobgoblins’ shadows

dance and play over

your midnight sky,

robbing you of

your own accord.

Smug, melting grins.

The faeries come

to blight your ego,

and strike whenever necessary

among the fog

surrounding you; gaping,

fleeting in harmony.

You awaken your own death.

Standing in front of

the mirror. The light glares

at you in so many ways.

The Kingdoms come to

gather your thoughts.

Has he seen but only me?

In all this time,

this wandering through,

has never the image

meant anything to you?

Swallow the guise of wealth and society!

Where do you come,

in the moonlight?

Scouring the planets for

dead like me that have

given up old ways.

Where no one can decide.

I lived, and they all came

in, poking me, teasing me,

trying to make me recede!

But, I held strong to my

inhibitions, and made sanctuary

in the glory of “I don’t care.”

And, I fell alone. Senile.

Misunderstood by my own stealth.

No creeping structures crashed

around when my own walls

came tumbling down.

There was something else.

My power and hunger,

my prayer is over.

No one fed me, or sustained.

I also fed no one, and

hated the silent whispers

always before me.

Your thinking behooves you.

The faeries return, and

laugh in your face!

What better chance for

you to wake up now,

and shatter the dream of the past?

I hear myself whisper, then,

“Today is the day,” and

I soon remember the old ways

when everybody loved, and cried,

before the world had taught each other

how to deny.

PLIGHT OF THE MESSENGER

*encore

Full Moon Eclipse

November 28th, 2012 / 6 Degrees Gemini

The Messenger gazes toward a foggy sky. It appears dense with cleansing mist. His retreat has concluded, and he prepares to move forward once more, with haste, and re-enter the realm of Truth. Unfortunately, a grievous mountain lay between him and the sunrise. Whoever said the Messenger was not nimble on his feet? He climbs carefully, slowly, each breath invigorating more life into his immortal body. 

The Destinies of Man interlace with Sol and Luna as they make their Grand Opposition, though they're charged with separate entities. Sol travels through Sagittarius, the Archer and Truth-Bearer, while Luna at his opposite, the Scattered Source Superhighway of Gemini. Here the Messenger's words and thoughts over the recent past are echoed and enforced. He humbly recalls them while traversing the jagged path:

The South Node, or "Dragon's Tail," has just shifted into Taurus after 18 months in Gemini. The education of our collective past has been resurfacing, teaching and enforcing various "truths" to be exposed. We have seen the birth of Occupy, the deluge of SOPA/PIPA resistance, Anonymous hacks, the assassination of O.b.L. Our download of information has been nonstop, and our technologies advance to proclaim what is true.

Now, the focus shifts. The Procession of Souls rotates backward through the Zodiac, and the North Node, or "Dragon's Head," transits into Scorpio. Now are birthed the mystics, and seekers, and the shadow familiars. The Earth summons her greatest allies to combat the secrets within our government, as we are asked to cleanse, close our eye--or "I"--and travel within.

"Meditate much?" the Messenger mumbles, as he notes the slow-backward procession far above, soon to pass him. "Funny how this works."

The wounds of the Great Healer are paramount, challenged by Sol and Luna in their Grand Opposition. Floods will attempt to overturn the world, dynamic wars will be raged, cosmic consciousness contemplated, all for the sake of illusion, or oneness with nothingness. Channel this sacrifice toward daily cleanses, healings, and attention to the body. The tediousness of servitude, in Virgo--Mercury's second sign and Chiron's disputed domain--offers more solidarity than at first glance.

A thunderbolt clashes, and there before him appears the image of Lord Zues, not yet in his full power. "I will be brief," he states. 

"Always an honor to receive your council," the Messenger states, bowing slyly.

"I have no time for your half-handed pleasantries," his Lord replies. "I shall soon return to my slumber. Take my heed, ever-questioning one. Stop before the road splits. Know the answer before it comes, for in truth, for it has always been one way. You know this. I challenge you to be ever watchful of your words--delight in your mind, know that we support you, dearest of servants. But, as always, stay sharp. Things are not as they seem."

With that, a second thunderbolt clashes, and Jupiter, along with his irony, vanish into the mist. The Mountain of the Underworld remains as barren, bleak, and dull that the Messenger has always remembered, yet he remains dutifully within the committed cycle.

Pluto stands upon the Earth, and the Warrior is called to his side. Together, they embody an aggressive domination of the worldly realm. Uncompromising attitudes match, and conflicts rise on the manifest of humanity. While the bully knocks down his neighboring sand castle, the teacher does nothing but watch.

The Messenger soon appears before Zeus' prophesied split. Two directions, both perceptibly leading up. Venus, his cosmic twin, embodies a young Persephone, and lays to the left. Saturn, endowed with the black armor of Hades, to the right. Both powerful. Both intoxicating.

"You know where I stand," Saturn begins, "And why I remain at this juncture. The Earth is split open, and the hidden underworld has been summoned to the surface. My armor is a reminder of the fortitude needed while I test the constitution of the proverbial stage. The cast has been at play for too long, and forgotten their worldly maintenance." He punches a rock, and it shatters instantly. "You see?" he continues. "Brittle."

"Brother," Persephone begins, "Your thoughts must stay pure. I offer you stability from within as you travel to the more vulnerable reaches of the heart. I am told to offer blessings, and entice outrageous fantasy. Take comfort in my wiles, if you wish. Rest your senses here."

The Messenger knows which path he must take, laid bare by the direction of prophecy. Acknowledging his comrades with a nod, and a bow, he bypasses them both, heading forward and up into unknown terrain. Though he has passed through the Underworld countless times before, this journey would prove the most tiresome.

He knew the risk would be greater; for the Messenger himself to lay down his guard, and step where he does not have eyes, is a questionable change of pace. Ripples from past dimensions called from within the Messenger, pulling him ahead; the scope of this mission far greater than he knew. Yet, he pressed onward, hoping the move would be enough to attract some attention.

The Trickster was keen to walking atop waters. The nature of the oncoming cycle was unlike any before it, and success would require certain "missteps." Before god and man lay the hope of evolution, and the reawakening of Heaven on Earth. As ever, our beloved Trickster is given a front row seat. But, the Messenger was no fool.

"After all," he mutters to himself, "There's always a catch."