Three from Africa

Now Playing: Poetry
Topic: Poems and such



A Simple Hug 1994

As Life trickles down
To the dance of Alone
A tear drips, seizing my eye
Challenging Changing Love
(or is it)
Within the symphonic Self
I do not aspire as the Mountain
Nor wish like the Sea
yet tender skin do I caress
In my Dream of dreams
A soft passion kiss flitting
Past the Butterfly lips
A gentle word sung
Sweeter than a forest's dew
A smile and a hand
of Seeing Holding Feeling
These are the Dreamscapes
of my me I self I.




Untitled 1996

In the wafting candlelight
Forest nights drip into desert days
And waiting enfolds the mind
While conflict worms soulward
Decisions to be made in wrongness or right
Home snakily slinks into highborn praise
Calling with yearns, invading dreams in ways not unheard
Green reality bites like teeth of a sword
Trampling desires with the elephant's might
Yet gently caressing the infant's childlike ways
Verdant papaya dropped from trees entwined
And need wraps tight its choking cord.



GRAIN 1996

Blood in the Hourglass
Twists delicate-ly downward
Spiraling through life
Descending through birth
Tumbling into death
A thousand lifetimes of suicide
Bloom forth among all things hemo
Oxygen pumping
Rusting muted organs
As blood in the Hourglass.
Religion slides calmly along
Jesus with Ophelia
M'hammed being the mountain
Buddhas sitting fatly in the road
Of Blood in the Hourglass.

Selfishness prevails as Progeny
Children running a-muck
Through gene-slicing primordial soup
Growing thoughtlessly until the end
When stops the Blood in the Hourglass.
Drops become buckets become dry
Become dust
As sands sift timelessly over eighty year old skulls
Lying in rest lying in watch
For their Blood in the Hourglass
Flowers sing in gentle mirrors
Pissing above time
Their paranoid fantasies creeping
Yet smiling all the same
At the Blood in the Hourglass.

Panic stricken black & white dreams
Create warriors in mind
Peace in Body as it drifts
Not wishing not needing not wanting to spill
Blood in the Hourglass
Twists delicate-ly downward
Spiraling through life
Descending through birth
Tumbling into death.

Before I started keying these in, I thought I was going to be putting something up a bit more light and jaunty. I was apparently lonely in Africa. The first poem was deep into my second year in Mauritania; the second two were from my time in the Congo rainbasin in the Central African Republic. earthwulf