A
Five Course Meal
Starter
Like
a bowl of soup,
warmth
to my lips,
embraces
my throat in a dish
of
pure awakening.
Entree
A
delicacy of nature's best,
She
melts in my mouth
and
settles like a caress from heaven.
Side
A
concoction of life’s platter,
immeasurably
enhanced
by
time and living, and sits beside me,
a
true accomplishment.
Main
What
a sizzler,
flowing
juices to my touch,
hot
sensual exquisiteness,
a
rarity dancing circles around my plate.
Dessert
She
loves me,
And
I her, forever it seems,
her
ice cream to my maple syrup,
and
left untouched we melt
in
each others nearness.
Captain,
My Father
The
gentleman sailor,
strong
as oak,
tough
as teak,
finds
it hard in this hour,
to
speak.
The
sailor's daughter,
strong
but weak,
butterflies
speak,
whispers
of hope,
give
him some rope.
The
sailor poet,
feels
the pain,
of
his fellow mariner,
pass
the wind
back
to the storm again.
In
her hour of need,
the
angels fly,
are
the butterflies,
swimming
on tears,
carrying
his fears.
The
time for friends,
to
lend a back,
carry
some slack,
take
the weight,
from
her father's fate.
Whatever
we think,
the
sailor won't sink,
but
gracefully sail,
like
the mighty whale,
out
to his home, the sea.
Have
hope, hold tight,
take
hold of your might,
your
power
to
love the sailor dad,
in
his sailing hour.
Zhao
Buddhist Spirit Retrieval 101
What
am I?
He
who suddenly places objects
in
midair
for
some martial arts practice.
Who
am I?
He
who lies on a sparse bed,
allows
Geronimo
and
Quinn the Eskimo
to
pass through
and
talk in tongues.
Who
am I?
He
who obeys the Chinese masters
Wu
Tung and Wu Chang
follows
the mantra of scarcity, power
the
sanguine grace of Madame Butterfly.
Who
am I?
When
in the next instant
I
am Jack the Rippers gloved hand,
Doyle's
IRA clenched fist
Mayan
Inchachyuanana's teaching mind.
Who
am I?
That
walks the street aged,
yet
dresses and acts like a 19 year old rapper,
that
stops and bows to strangers knowingly.
Who
am I?
That
now delves into the supernatural
not
as a writer, nor reader
but
as a participating entity
passing
ghosts on from their resting place
to
who knows where.
Who
am I?
That
used to be me
is
now more,
and
less
the
outer shell says Thane
the
inner says "channeller".
Who
I am,
is
down to you,
not
me
and
whoever gives the gifts
to
allow my new existence to flourish.
Ka
uta omganuana te anughana te purie.
No comments:
Post a Comment