Soul's Memory

I knew you in a past life
you were my paramour
A face that lit my life
from within
and does even today
when I remember
thru those eyes

It’s something in the eyes.
I’ve known them for millenia-
a tenderness and
a connection I have
known no where else

How I pine in this life-
to be so close
and yet so seperated.

It seems that though
our lives this time
are to touch,
we are never to be as it was.

I stand on the sidelines,
my insides aching to touch,
to prove again my undying
love

and have to watch
as each time you walk by
only the barest flicker
of remembering.

I cannot blame you,


yet it hurts.


You were the one I gave
it all for- the centre
of my very world. All
else was merely interference
or perhaps enhancement
but when we were together
I felt complete.


It is said that all
existence
is merely smaller pieces
of the One,
that it all fits together
in one gigantic puzzle.

I feel like a solitary piece
sometimes
floating in time
wanting to find the one
piece to complete me.

It is unfair,
no matter now well I
knew you,
to expect you to be
that piece.

Yet you once were.
and I know it.
and I have yet to
find another path
in this life.



Forgive me.


I do not always know
the path I am to take
here.
Looking within does
not seem to shed light.
I seek what I knew
because what I have
does not seem to fill
the gaps.

And, as I did before,
so shall I love you
now,
even from afar.
That, at least,
the Gods would
know as
sacred.

signs

guideposts

I am always looking
for guideposts in this life

a map as I wander
the back roads
to tell where I am
& which way to turn

Never quite sure what
it is I am looking for
I look to the outside
to rediscover the In

It doesn't always work
well

like any map, its needs
to be updated

how do others do it
do they just flounder
or is there some instinct
that gives them an idea
which turn is right
at the crossroads

Lots of advice
tons, in fact
and yet none truly applies to me

******************************

talk and talk
and all of one's own self
for in the end,
it is what we know best

the tunnel vision of ego
keeps knowledge on a
personal bent

and leaves those searching
with only skewed points of view

it is never easy
to walk the mile in
another's mocassins

and even less so when
asked opinion over a
sympathic ear

9-24-85

In the winter of my day
I contemplate thee

My love

My lover

child golden yet unborn
known to me

as are you

so you are

I do not know what fire
hast kept thee
out among the trees
Out among the stars

But I know it burns
Deeply in thy chest
warm and loving
fiery and charmed


indeed you are so charmed

1985

Shadows so black
they looked like burn marks
in the dry brown grass.
The Texas sun bit viciously
into the earth.

The changes are coming.
Look well to the
grass & trees.
They sing of sorrow,
of infinite patience,
of desperation.
All this will change
soon....but soon enough?
Cry for the onea who
do not see.
Cry for the loss of
all we know
or knew.

Merciless ships
laden with unforgiving
sun and struggling
clouds. Few creatures
venture far in this
daylight. The night comes,
with breezes for respite,
and the day's heat
lies quiet, forgotten.
but not forgiven.
Life is leeched out
inch by careful inch.
Where are the rains,
Goddess,
to feed your starving
children?

Owa Tafoo Liam

paper squid in the road
triangled moon in the sky
lies&lies&lies

I can no longer
believe in myself
base self-deceiver
that I am.

I walk the halls
of this life
and peek through
closed doors and keyholes

hoping to find
someone to play with,
forgetting the lesson:
as we come into this world
so we leave it.

unfinished sonata
fades from the keyboard
a tune both pale and sweet
It was my soul once
when daylight did not make me cringe

midnight dreams of
warm strong hands
a scent other than
my own
are now so much grave dust
blown aloft by passing shades



Ah the life alone
it makes for passions
both deep and dank
drawing on the fear we
all share
and live in delusion
the better to ignore

that biting ceature
made of self-doubt
born when just a kid
borne for a lifetime
as a badge of protection
and a gnawing demon
of self inflicted hurt


Yes, I was to blame, me alone, in the end.


I believed another's ugly words,
let it settle in as truth,
it being in fact the farthest from
and it has cost me at every turn
ever since.

I sabotage before there is a chance,
for to let it happen
would risk that pain of
"this really isn't for me"
The words cut too deeply,
and yet back I go,
to do it just the same
one more time.

Those with their eyes open,
those who look at reflection
and can see enough to laugh,
a chant for the moment
of complete self-realization:

Owa Tafoo Liam.

Peeling Away

pieces of my mother
a life by the wayside

five years it's taken
but slowly it chips away

As the butterfly emerges
the caterpillar mourns


it astounds how
another's life can
so thoroughly
envelope
to lose one's self
in the noise

I listen for a clear
ringing of my own
small voice
once again
in the din of the world

Runesmith

reader of fates
caster of stones
and now the message
screams loudly
for me-

Break down the walls
open the windows
breathe the air
of spiritual freedom

Sing to the world
of that gentle heart
the one that cries
at small creatures' passing

the shouting, the shoving
needs to die away
so the gift within
can finally glow

that light under the bushel
was never about praise to God
but living so that one
IS a glory to the One

it is the cruel Temptress
of this world
who teaches to hide, protect,
fail to trust ever again

and all that one can do with
that
is die inside a little
more each day

Such lessons are easily said
but not so easy to apply
I feel a change in the wind
it sings of freedom finally

22 April 93

Sometimes I wonder why I fear
And what it is I fear.
I argue my limitations
and sure enough they are.
I demand to be heard
but when the floor is mine
I forget what I was
yelling about.

Is it truly that success
scares the living hell out of me.
Is it that I fear the Source
within me will dry up.
Is matyrdom so preferable
to exploring my art to its depth.
Do I fear that what I do
Cannot stand the test
of Time.

I do not like the aloneness.
Sometimes it threatens to break me.
I do not like the floundering in the
mud of mediocrity because
I fear.
What I do not know
is how to break down the door
that I've so long refused to
open.

and no one else can do it for me.

a thought or two

Okay, not poetry, but from the poet anyway.
I have become aware in the last week or so how very self-centered, how egotistical, poetry truly is. It has been a journey for me to try to lose that ego part of myself, to face it and let it go, and has come as no surprise that I have in fact been feeding it. Ego was once a majour survival tool for us, and it is not so easy to sublimate. This is particularly true in our American society, where the ME generation set a precendence about putting ourselves and OUR needs and desires above others'. Service is seen as a weakness, not a virtue. For true peace to come to this society, there will need to be a shift of attitude. The giving of one's self, time and effort is truly the only thing of value anyone can give to another. This is especially true when it comes to one's children. We have bred a generation of neurotic and insensitive kids who do not know how to deal with the world at large, merely by not giving them the gift of attention from one or both parents.
Well, revelation yet again.
I have to wonder to myself how it will change my writing. It has been an uphill battle to change myself, but one of my gifts to this world is my art, the painting and the writing. What will I do with it now?

05-10-82

Why do I travail so?
I know you are out of my reach,
Out of the scope of my possession
Though I would never try to own
Such a high-flying bird.

Why do I pine over a face?
It is a face that shall be Wisdom
to some, though I don't think it knows
But I think my thoughts are too radical;
I am setting myself up for a letdown.

I hope you never fall out of grace,dear one,
Never come to question what seems
to make you happy now.
Though the woman in me would like
To permeate your private side,
The spirit in me sees much
That is to become of you.
You are strangely wise for your years,
Yet flooded with amazing innocence.
I hope they shall both be your friend
And not your demise.








*********************************************************************





I cannot bend my knee to pray-
You see, my "god" and I just discuss
Things, when the world gets out of hand.
All the books, all the rabble-rousing
of religion are most distressing to me.


My god is Infinite (good name for it, too.)
My god is everyone and thing known
And a lot more that isn't.
I do not expect hellfire, nor sympathy,
but Patience and a Shoulder to lean on
When this Lesson I am here for
Gets me down.

There really isn't much more to it than that.


I am an infant piece of a gigantic....Existence.
So are you.
Why make more of it than that,
when all that is required
Is that you be happy,
that you work hard,
and that you know eventually,
through you Lessons,
You will fill the space made for you
before our limited scope as humans
sought to measure Time.


There's the only catch:
It's simple.
Simplicity seems to escape humans.

So they invented complexity.
Now we have 3 pieces to the Puzzle,
and the rest of us just sit about
wondering if someday we'll be
graced with the chance to
be part of a part of a Piece.
Better yet, why not call it
PEACE.

But we were never less than
The Whole of It.
children of God?
No, a piece of God Itself.
(I put no limits, not even a sex, to the Is.)
In fact, blasphemous as it would be said to be,
We are God.

That's putting it in plain English.
Only, despite being plain,
It is still far fromthat easy.
I mean, I'm talking of a Universe.
Do you realise how vast that is?
No, you can't.
It is beyond human comprehension at this point.
Perhaps someday.

But it is a lot bigger than this continent,
Or our beautiful Terra
Or even our Solar system.


Still, we are one with all of It
and It with all of us.
I hope someday to help you feel
The Pulse of the Universe,
the very movement of Life Itself,....

the very breath of God.

..................................

All Hallow's Eve '93

leaves scurry across the walk
trees groan; hear them talk
cool moon glides between clouds
shades slip past, cloaked in shrouds

embers flicker inside gourd eyes
gleaning truth from each disguise
flames leap high; wind moans low
smoke casts ghosts amid the glow

hear the footsteps of Samhain, children
know that death glides by your door
remember the year past beside the Cauldron
keep the wisdom of the ancient lore

Rising to the Sleep (07-26-94)

The crickets chirr
The birds chirp awake
Apollo creeps over the horizon
Reminding us the darkness has an end

In the mind's eye, I see
The movements of man and spirit
Fighting for freedom

Why is the battle so hard

The daybreak brings relief
from those things bottled inside
A respite from the battles
of will against soul

I know the grounds too well
They haunt my sleep
and my waking day

To walk across the Barrier is no joy

I am separate from Them
Yet I live side by side
Destined to know an outcome
I can't explain

Why.

Why to be so aware
Why to carry a pain
That has no words

Why to find peace
In the solitude of night
Where dreams are Morpheus' reality

The daylight creeps past
Burning my eyes away
Turning on a reality I deny

where is the peace I am promised

I am locked away
In a world of illusion
How do I explain which is which

You see only half of it
And I cannot join in your dance


Apollo is rising
Sweet Luna regrets time lost
And I ponder the dusk
Of the World

Close my eyes, sweet Morpheus
Consume me in the burning of the chariot
Close my ears to unreal sound
Take away the weight
I can no longer carry it.

So be it.

10-22-96

Winter comes.
Somehow it shows in the sunset.
sol is dimmer than before,
As though dying like the Oak King.

Winter comes.
The winds cool the night,
Chill the morning,
To remind us that after life is death.

Winter comes.
The smell on the wind
sings of sleeping trees
and the bush babies curling up tightly.

Winter comes.
She presses her hard hands
Against the land
and all that breathes soon sleeps.

Winter comes.
We must wait now,
Wait for the breath of the Goddess
to warm us again.


Yes, winter comes.

Butterflies In My Window and Out (9-24-96)

I see my shadow on the pillow
like a lover's profile in the night
creeping ever closer
Like the impending dawn

They've passed through my life
little bits of soul
Fluttering softly over my head
I wonder where each is going to

They creep through my memory
Somehow leaving marks
Which are yet unseen
by the outside world

Not unlike the silent passing of seasons

Here, locked in memory's embrace,
I am warm and safe again
the remembrance of past
and tentative future caress me tonight.

Butterflies through my window and out
I wonder to myself
lost in the reverie here,now,
when one will light for good.

8-27-96

Do you see?
The change in the clouds....
The silent passing of bird & beast....
The change in the temper of the trees?

Do you feel?
The movement of Gaia from her Consort...
The subtle decrease of summer heat...
The need to feed & nest in us all...

Do you hear?
The changing calls of those who travel southward...
The whispering song of grass and briar...
The soft soft call of cooler winter winds?


We move so quickly through this world,
Now we fail to notice the quiet signs.
Be aware, brother & sister.
The changes coming are not just
for a season.
Without growth there is no life.
We are stagnant now.
This,too, must pass.....

'96 (1)

Distant places.
Flags snap and curl in the wind
Traveling on.
Waves warp to our sides,
pointing thw way.

Valleys, and mountains.
The ship rumbles a lullabye underneath.
Glaciers and geysers.
Tumbling, ever forward, we cut
through the pale night.





(I adore Iceland.)

Different Drummer 7-30-96

the words do come slowly
don't they, little fawn?
To bridge the gap
between what you
feel and what
you say

takes the stuff of heroes

I am a painter of words
the master of colour
and tone
borne from the hues
of us called emotion

It is to flay the soul
wide unto the world
that is my task
alas,
it is usually my
own that suffers

But, nay, there's the trick
It is in the expression
that we come most
to life

La Chanson de Ma Coeur/ La Cancion del Corazon (6-28-04)

you make my heart sing
when I least expect it
The lay of your lashes
against your cheek
The curve of your neck
against the sheet

I watch you in the morning
light,softly sleeping
The rise & fall of your breath
as soothing as ocean waves
& I wonder if I am
still dreaming

It is said of men
that to love for them
is enough
And of women it is
that they know
they serve
in loving

I have searched so long
in this lifetime
for one to share it with
That I often talk myself
out of what I've found
such as your lovely smile

Is it not strange
to any other
that I live for that
briefest of moments
when you hold my
eyes in yours
and smile as though
we were one

In the end
in truth
it is all I have
and it sustains me
until the next one

You do so make my heart sing.

august '85

Glass books
Sell shattered
Dreams
Folding outward to
Cover the landscape
of Reality
Filling pages
With empty
Metaphors full
Of the travails of
Mankind
No sympathy or
Thought for a uniformity
To the universe

2003 (3)

Heart of my world
The loneliest place on Earth
I have walked here too long
Alone.

Will I ever know joy again
Wrapped luxuriously in the arms
of a man, fair and strong.

Or am I condemned by time
And shyness to pine for one
who will never know my name.

I do not fear the future.

I fear facing it alone.




*************************************************


I look for a balm,
a salve to heal me within

I seek from outside myself
To heal the soul within

Failing in my fear, my flight,
That is the only within that shall
provide true succour.

I seek someone else to tend to wounds
That I do not have the strength to show them.

That is bound for failure.

In partnership is wholeness, true
But to be in such means knowing one's Self.

Me...meet myself.

2003 (2)

Hurt me.

It used to feel good.

Now it echoes thru
the halls of my
soul,
reminding me that
time is passing.

How long before it
all sighs to a
halt
and I die.

I wish I knew.


***************************************************

what may be mistaken for enigma
may be merely shyness
How far away when so close
Hard to imagine a tougher spot

What I wouldn't give to know you
and you shut the door resoundingly
I am not so brave
as to try again

and it hurts.



**************************************************

Never put a person on a pedestal
most can't step off without falling
And in the failing your world
will shattered

Never place your expectations
on a mere image
The picture will taint as it ages
and leave you with nothing




**************************************************
(wow. Depressing aren't I?)

2003

sulfur erupts through my skin
Speaking of the hell within
Smalls bursts of venom
Composed of words I dare not say.

What dilutes sulfuric fire
What is it that can drive it out the body

Is it too much I Me Me Mine
and not enough interaction
that clogs my pores to unbreathing

april 2003

Days fly past.
I hardly notice them
until I look behind
to see them washing away
on the tides of time.

Wither goest thou, I ask.
They whisper not of the journey.
I wonder if those coming
behind me
see these days coming toward.


Do I warn them to be careful,
to observe and experience
each moment
knowing full well it is never to come again


or do I let it pass them by too,
knowing "someday" will come
and go
just as it has for me.



I believe I understand selfishness better now.


One I know of says
it is the journey
not the arrival.
Has he figured out yet
that it is nothing but the
journey,
that one never truly arrives.

an endless cycle of experience,
contemplation,
and re-experience -
a karmic wheel through
which we see this world.

The only limitations to this
we set upon ourselves,
the most vile and destructive
of which is
TIME.

You see, time does not exist.
It is an illusion of
clocks and counting,
the movement of planets,
the aging of DNA.

Were it not our desperate
need to define,
to hold onto,
to control
(all of which is also an
illusion,)
nothing else in our world
would note such things.

We damn ourselves
to note our fleeting,
futile lives by the
ticking of a self-created
measurement.


What happens when the alarm goes off?