Oceanzest Poetry (270)

There's no waning for the sun
this is the moon's prerogative
within heavenly drifting cycles
I tie my consciousness to neither
when the land stretches out afar
many can truly journey beneath
search out and adore peace
oh when the men are few
the words are few
simple and fine
like dandelion wine

your curls wrap down
in the season of the sun
oh I been waiting, waiting
so long, so long baby
angel dance for me
slow movement in the dark
feel you drawin' a breath
come ride with me, ride with me
been a long time, long time
sugar time sweet
come shut the door
for the night
now you feel its right
I know the rain come down
it come pouring down
washed my blues away
washed my blues away

Cracked pepper, just a memory
your reflection in stainless steel
all may yield few clues
birth of a test pilot's angst
in radiation blue
this lime lime resonance
is a song to fully appease
stirring the crowds at 45 rpm
load and reload boys
a witching in the switchgrass
cocaine copters
out on the delta
sky black, hijack
gone like DB Cooper
who would have guessed it
who could have breathed it
message for 2024
sleep with your boots on

Raspberries in the lane
fruiting wildly under the sun
I have my eye on them
but I suspect the children will have them
it makes me happy
that someone had the foresight
to plant out this public space
curing the neighborhood
of drab fences and grass strips

last week we planted hibiscus
their flowers are ephemeral
but so patently joyful
I hope they survive the cool winter
its marginal to grow them here
better somewhere warmer but we will see
winter being far off
cast the blues away!

The jubilation of the rose
that it doth rest upon the heath
its florid courtly promise
Oh it is to a woman shed
by these, the bravest of men
both vigor and rectitude
for in youth apparent
we did look to release
much life from solitaire
return thee to the soil
these the spoils of heaven
such that all may rest again
within this earth

There is no wind here
a thousand lit candles
perfume and wax from far shores
all have blown in
above the door a cherub
adorns the headspace
the columns are carved
from the darkest ebony
Can you hear the whispers?
I can too, between the eternal
and the now there is something
we reach for, its deep in the midst
perhaps its a little life raft
that is how we would want it
orange and bouyant
on a calm sea

Love is a sweet old decade
passionfruit on the vine
flowers on a corner
made by grand design

Love it tastes like chocolate
French vanilla cream
a sparkling glass of vino
long days seem so serene

But love it has a season
and when its day is through
remember it for the good times
and look for love anew

I saw men from back country rail yards
drunk under a moon of silver sovereigns
yelling tales of the rail lines
from north to south, east to west
while the fires burned down in the drum
amongst the weathered men
there is a fevered bliss
known only to the railways
steel machismo
little vanity prevails
rolling with an orange dawn

East of October
in the nebulous zone
shivers make up the dark
an unsettling of dust
on a foreign road

You shall know me
by the wake I leave
time leaves tiny distances
chirping of birds in the hills
a dead reckoning

A sudden movement of the music
rising to the canopy
star shifter uplifts the heavens
when the waters are calm
I see you as you are

For I once was here
amongst the daffodils and streams
in a quiet afternoon dance
with you alone
silhouetted as we were
against the trees
in the majesty
of a dying season
and though we did toy with Pan
reeling in the wild spaces
and did you hear the flute my love?
or the lyre played softly?
along the river edge
within the rushes
over the marsh
and beyond
as it takes you
takes you on
to evening grace
in the verandahs
of my mind

A phalanx of worshippers
all on the salty brine
ten shores from Mecca
the stains are always deeper than you think
fathom it forward in time
when Picasso had made it oblique
but we surround it as an orb
tiny turning of the screw
did release the pressure
knowing this the art of timing
is however inconsequential my friend
when the pixies dance of an evening
all know the show must go on

In the afternoon the wind brings the dust
clouds of it come up from the valley
to invade the silent streets
small animals hide in crevices
now we are all hunkered down
awaiting the quiet of dusk

In the mornings I walk the range
where the air is clear and cool
the city below glimmers
its metal rooved armor
protecting it from the glare

I toss a rock to the gods
and it tumbles out of sight below
shaking the cacti in its descent
this very afternoon the rains will come
then the hard spirit is lifted
with the quenching of the dust