Some poems I wrote in 1995

1995

Spirit is Energy
February 9, 1995

Spirit is energy, a flowing energy;
Happiness is positive spirit energy, flowing;
Negativity / Anger is contra-flowing energy, perhaps deteriorating.
We get things to flow correctly by getting in touch with the flow of positive spirit energy;
This is done by submitting to the flow (humility), making a riverbed for it to flow through (faith);
The Spirit will come to you and flow through you if you prepare for Him, allow Him, desire Him.

It's a rhythm; a river (of energy).



A Love Hid From View
August 19, 1995

She could be alone (I know I am),
She could be hid from view:
A fish below my very boat,
A mermaid waiting for my dive,
A queen bee droning for my hive,
A victim of love about to survive,
A gashed wound begging for the surgeon's knife ---
(An unsuspecting girl to wife?)



Another Rambling on God and Woman
August 31, 1995

You pray to God and try to flow to Him,
You pray to hit but you barely skim,
And swim in diversions as if it weren't sin;
You hardly know you when you haven't slept well,
And your eyes do the swelling though your heart should swell;
And she's so far away when you need her the most,
To assuage your gaps and comfort your ghost;
And the heat of the night sends a message of drowse,
That drags down the heart and hoists up the brows
To heaven (or woman?)
To bind up one's chest,
Till man, unabandoned, perceives how he's blest.

God, woman, man together
Brother, sister face the weather



Heaven's Falls
December 23, 1995

And I know that I'm alone,
And I know that I've no home,
And I suppose I can abuse
By freely roaming where I want to roam.
For there's no one here but me,
No inspiration without caverned chastity;
And thoughts impure are only withering smoke surrounding the vine,
While Revelation's circumference divides on Earth divine the time.

And Heaven's falls are not that far away
For he who takes the dive,
With eyes sealed shut,
And arms outstretched ---
Night-die-ving
From one Eden --- through Hell --- to next Eden.

Begin again.

The time spent praying rewards us with a sharpened conscience, and a delivery unforeseen
True reality is Heaven
True reality clarifies.



My Heart is Packed in Cotton
December 23, 1995

My heart is packed in cotton, within a muffled box,
My time for emergence is I-know-not-when;
My time for hibernation seems to come again, again.
I need my building time again,
I crave for time alone;

And poems are only bits of life.

But I must be content to write the Forms,
And only yearn for long Ideals;
And hold the mast in bitter storms,
And thank God fervently for my meals.