1990
Animal
January 1990
I want to be animal; to survive without dependence on the unnecessary.
Live in a jungle, eat from the trees,
And do without electricity.
I would be my first resource,
To live where survival was the natural course;
No grades, no bills, no planned deadlines,
No social ladders for me to climb.
Return to life essentials crude:
Water, shelter, cloth, food.
No temptations, no concerns:
That is where my deep heart yearns.
Fast-Paced Life
January 14, 1990
The weights of a fast-paced life surround me,
School, work, religion nearly drown me;
Responsibilities, errands, social cups to fill,
Impatience, angled motives, hollow goals to fulfill.
We flail in place and our progression is but holographic
When our goal is but to beat the traffic.
Fast paces, needless worry,
I watch the mindless citizens scurry.
A Moving Thought Inside My Brain
January 18, 1990
A moving thought inside my brain
Races and plummets like drops of rain;
It soaks my instinct, affects my cool,
And moistens dried ideas from a droughted pool.
No longer is this parchment paper,
But fluid means to your own skyscraper,
Or unknown planet, or blue universe ----
You're your own god for better or worse.
Decisions, decisions, new paths to take,
Perilous paradoxes that bend you or break.
The Temple
January 23, 1990
The temple is the doors.
The doors between the known, the worldly, the present reality, and the mysteries of godliness.
The temple is the supreme connector between Earth and Heaven, between the footstool and the throne of God.
It is the means to return back through the veil.
It is ultimate in sanctity, sacredness, secretness.
God's sacred knowledge and power are there.
It is at the core of Christ's religion, a conduit where God's power is evident.
Protected and hallowed.
The temple.
A Wounded Soul Finds New Concentration
February 6, 1990
A wounded soul finds new concentration,
From partial physio-mutilation;
A flustered focus buckles down,
And, challenged, you become your own.
Militancy
February 6, 1990
Fire-charged in noon brigade,
A soldier green in new parade,
Marches, marching, stepping style ---
A new man, khaki, militile.
Formed in masses, strained from life,
War-like minds, discipled strife;
Praising themselves with blunt emotion,
For warring deeds and whorey notions.
Saved for death and trained to kill,
Generals murder from a windowsill.
Life Out of Balance
February 10, 1990
Stimuli ---
Swift currents of information, news, activities, opportunities, coupons, sales, inventions, must-have items, technology ---
It whisks by me, then whisks me away from that which I had originally deemed as necessary and good and satisfying.
Too many appointments.
Bulk quantities of everything, little private time.
Too many relationships.
Too much instant gratification.
Life out of balance. Koyannisqatsi.
The answer: regression to your roots
A back-to-basics project
Simplicity and nature
Avoid confusion and complications.
("Koyannisqatsi" is a Hopi Indian term meaning "life out of balance.")
Empty Head
March 26, 1990
Empty head, you make me whole,
You give me peace of mind;
I sit alone -- no leaden thoughts,
And let myself unwind.
Self-Doubt
April 7 to 8, 1990
It's time I shed my shoddy skin,
And showed the world inside;
Let noon-light vivify within,
All that I used to hide.
I weep, I moan, my soul doth bleed,
I spill my contents out;
I swear an oath to never lead
A life filled with self-doubt.
But next day came and soon I found
That Doubt returned to rot me;
I shook my soul and hoped aloud,
Before It really got me.
Doubts are weeds in my mind that I must constantly kill.
Self-Declaration
April 28, 1990
I am creative.
I'm a creator.
I participate in creation,
And even if they burned everything I wrote
They'd only be burning my footsteps;
For there's more where they came from,
And they'll be following me the rest of my life.
What Is Within
May 6, 1990
I look in a pool and have no reflection,
Yet I reflect all that I dwell in;
I look in my soul and have no protection,
Yet I protect that which I fell in.
O God, Give Me the Valor
May 9, 1990
O God, give me the valor
And the gumption to reveal
My true thoughts and feelings to my colleagues,
And what I deem as real;
For if I couch these caverned nuggets,
Jewels of truth within,
I'll die a mined-less pauper,
And to Thee expose my sin.
For it is evil (is it not?)
To hide the light I hold,
When there are others who've forgot
Their inner soul of gold.
Grape or Wine?
May 11, 1990
My head is being trampled like a grape within a vat,
As the wine (op)pressors trod me down;
They want to burst my unique soul of a grape,
And strip me of my oneness.
They think to blend me in is fine,
Transformed into a drink of wine,
Blended, bottled, labeled in a cellar,
And left down there in that cold mausoleum,
To mindlessly age.
I am not liquid
I am not wine;
Instead, a grape
Upon a vine;
Sweet and harmless,
Liable to be crunched,
And experienced only once.
Non-alcoholic.
Vulnerable.
Unmixed with the liquid crowd.
Riverbed and Spirit Water
May 13, 1990
I am an empty riverbed.
And then...
A nonchalant, meandering trickle of aimless water runs up my leathery back.
Eyes hurriedly flip open in suspicion, heart revives;
My coagulated scabby blood mixes with this spirit water,
And I become hotter.
My tanned, riverbed back and body are soon enveloped in this God-sent godsend.
The Spirit Water and I gradually become one;
Joined, we tear down the mountain together,
Affecting everything we encounter, and spreading life.
Slowly I forget myself,
Engaged in this cause,
Married to this work.
Night Covers Me
June 3, 1990
Night covers me;
And urges me on.
I am welded to the night, and we become one,
Lying still, recoiling, thinking loud thoughts in the mesmerizing stillness.
Pervasive: like a cold, wounding blade, steel and emotionless (precision incision).
The night wraps 'round me,
And lays me softly on my bed.
Forced to drowse, I fight no more the relentless yearns to relaxate.
Life Unnerves
June 3, 1990
Life unnerves and life behaves,
The vulture birds peck at the graves;
We came in droves and left in draves,
And realized only Jesus saves.
Only Love Will Remain
July 23, 1990
As the intense glow of passion cools into a few embers, only love will remain, always burning, ever so slowly, yet somehow never consumed.
True love shall remain, weathering the torrents of time,
And improving like wine.
I dread the thought of stale relationships, insecure mother-type figures, parental obsessions, and spouses clinging to each other like innocent lost babies. Naked without each other, they refuse to live if left alone. They are each other's life-support systems; no, death-support systems ---! For as they "sustain" the life of each other, personally they die. Is this living? Existence with a dependent clause is not existence.
Reflections on a Mirror
August 1990
I stand wide-eyed in front of a mirror,
A full-length view, with no one here;
I see my soul like no one does,
I reflect on now, and then what was.
I've lost the fear for having found the cause.
Stretch!
Trinity's Love
August 1990
Triangularity, Divine Charity,
A Threesome if you please;
Gods: the Father, the Son, the Dove,
They love as One, They love with ease,
Even those in disparity.
The Dream of an Intervening God
August 6, 1990 (5:42 a.m.)
As I awake this morning, I close on one of the most impressive dreams I've ever had. I had decided to go skydiving with a friend of mine, Bryce Suzuki, somewhere near the coastline of the state of Washington. As we jumped out of the plane, everything was running fine, and I was having a fantastic time. When the time came to pull the ripcord, I did, and the parachute was released from my backpack. But it didn't open up.
Very quickly, a numb shock set in as I realized that I was powerless. As I looked down to the forest below (and ever so quickly coming nearer) I realized that I was going to die.
Sickening feeling.
When I was about a few hundred yards from impact, a gentle but immediate wind swept across the forest and carried my body a quick but considerable distance, until I was directly over the ocean, about fifty to one-hundred yards off the shore. Head first, I plunged into the sea, and hit the shallow, muddy, soft bottom, which cushioned my crash landing. Still conscious, I swam to the surface then paddled to shore. I fainted when I made it to the rocks. A few minutes later (I suppose) I regained consciousness. I then walked along the shore, to the surprise of many fishermen who had witnessed my fall, until I found Bryce.
No other explanation weighs more pervasively in my mind other than the fact that I was gracefully preserved in a direct, obvious act of protection from God. In other words, I was totally saved by God.
The dream lends itself to some deep reflection on my part, for it leaves me tearfully grateful, ponderous, and thoughtful as to God's interventions with and manifestations to man and His purposes concerning us all in general and me in specific.
(See John 3:8)
Wearing This Here Body
August 11, 1990
I am wearing this here body,
My eyes are my spirit.
I am wearing this body like a costume,
And, like a glove,
I manipulate and pound this body to my liking.
I look through this body,
And often assume a role
Unreflective of my soul.
This body is nothing more than a medium,
A means to soul(f)-expression;
And often to the wizened eye, one can see my very soul reflected (though vaguely) through my flesh clothing.
I am responsible for this body, for I am sole-(soul)-entrusted owner.
Seeds of Wild Love
August 16, 1990
There was a time when love was flowing,
A new life was growing,
A new shoot was going,
Reaching, aiming for the sun,
And enchanting it was.
The seeds of love were safely planted,
But cultivated not;
Left to grow aimlessly, savagely in the wild.
And wildly these seeds grew, until they were a large collection of entanglements.
And the only way to exit their presence was through forging violently with a machete.
Severed as to let me through, I cut to survive,
But I also cut you, and I'm sorry.
I should have grown with you better,
I should have attended to your needs with care,
But I let weeds come between us and scraggly vines till I could hardly see you there.
I'm a novice gardener, and my thumb's not very green;
I've handled roses very rarely for fear of thorns unseen.
But! as the positive man I am,
I do believe
I can relieve the difficulty here at hand.
I shall prune; and I shall garden,
I shall dig about your roots!
And we'll plant again this seed of love, this time in fertile soil,
And stand nearby to watch it grow, this time prepared to toil,
And I'll never give up my vigilance,
Until I have a beautiful rose,
Or an old sterile seed.
Hope, Despite the Wounds
August 19, 1990
And now I'm faced alone to see
(To writhe, to cry --- and easily)
A future swelling with so much in store!
And Hope...
She will be our guiding wind,
Her billowing cheeks and energy
Transport us through tempestuous sea,
And knifing sin.
So cut, but yet so much re-healed,
I'm wounded for a lesson;
In turn I scurry to the mast top high,
To drink in a gaping vista.
Each wound I got along the way
Enabled the view I now have today.
Praise to the Invisible One
November 9, 1990
Praise, O praise the Invisible One;
My hope in Him must e'er reside,
If I'm to see the Sun.
Here comes the Son, or so I've heard,
On the verge for hundreds of years;
Is He the Only Holy One, the awaited Word,
Whose feet I'll bathe in tears?
Why does God let the world run so,
Amuck, ablaze, in stain?
I do not know --- yet;
Yet He is God and so's His Sun,
And unitedly They reign.
We're Witnessing Against Ourselves
November 9, 1990
We're witnessing against ourselves,
We're wallowing in this mud;
A testimony to our Savior Lord,
Whether we accept His blood.
His blood: a symbol, a religious rite,
For all who've washed themselves;
For somehow red will make us white,
And somehow the dead will see the light.
Inner-thought News
November 9, 1990
Smilingly, I take my place,
In a thankless rank of the human race;
A poet shorn in Gospel shoes,
A soul spread on paper with inner-thought news.
Fame
December 13, 1990
Fame is a very rentable veil. It rips with eggshells. Fame is a book cover. Fame is make up. Fame is the main drag of an old western ghost town. Fame is the dirt accumulated on my body each day. Fame is a contrived attitude. Fame is proper bladder control. Fame is a waste of time. Fame is curtains. Fame is a whited sepulchre. Fame is cosmetic surgery. Fame is bluffing with a sincere face. Fame is facial. Fame is terminal, contagious, infectious. Fame controls minds. Fame is not freedom. Fame is nothing to an iron will. Fame is what you heard from somebody else. Fame is a chance to look acceptable. Fame is a game. Fame.
My Love Has Turned to Stone
December 17, 1990
My love has turned to stone.
She has changed.
She is no longer happy, she is slate.
She is no longer my love.
The past is not the present.
She is cold stone,
Cold, and unfeeling, and cold.
Expressionless.
Chalky, desolate, bloodless.
It is sad.
Was is not is.
She is tombstone, and cold rain falls down upon her.
Glazed; a lonesome, indistinguishable figure.
The love that was in her is removed.
But I still have my love;
I have it, and I let it sit in fervency within me.
It is portable, soul-tappable.
I may pour it out upon whomever I please ---
Nevertheless they may or may not drink.
I can still love.
I am not stone.
Meant to Be Here
December 27, 1990
It's like we were meant to be here.
Every once in a mangy while,
Out peeks God and shows His style;
A (so-called) coincidence, a lucky choice,
An answered prayer, a Conscience Voice;
From real to realer, we must move on,
And carry burdens that make us strong;
But 'least we can sing as we walk,
And lighten loads through mutual talk.
The Construction of a Poem
December 27, 1990
The construction of a poem is never new,
Since words exist and so do you;
Unplug the holes inside your mind,
And trickle out the truths of time.
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