bashed in computer criminal intent tears shed loss accepted the end of an era beginning of a new that will not be denied though there is a small group that hates my brother sending me one of his my son rigging the old and holding my hand on the new venture adventure there is a large group of lovers lurking in all the crevases popping up to give. a circle of need and abundance just as the gunshooters get to the pass a time of planting and reaping lest we forget we have been reminded that though the dragons seem to hold power there is only One True Source we are leaving but not cowering we are open armed and loving we are a small puzzle piece to this grand plan holding hands across the cosmos laying new tracks to point the way a trail that always leads home ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Author Archives: poetjude
Moving Back to Maine
guess it's time to write anew poem about ending all the old life is priced with blue painting tape tags twenty-five cents dishes we ate on and the pans of the wrm way i used to cook, 2 dollars for the sheets we used to make love on, a dolla for the tender mercy of our mixing bowls nothing for the way our world got shreaded by evil intent but turned into new begginnings by the One who makes all things New
Someone Called me from Burma
and again i write into the night . hurricanes roar, days won't end i am sick to death of commerce and fear of dying someone called me from Burma today, mayanmar both names showed up on my bombasted phone where my number had be grabbed by the greedy one guy had an Indian accent my heart was not ready for international wonderings today i would like to afford a renewed passport so at least i could make it over the border into Canada should the whim arrise they'll put a chip in this time to find or hunt me down for some imagined tresspass or to save me is what they say i mistrust the greedy powerful, well not all but most a wealthy athlete gave away 150 million bucks today his face looked kind i think he didn't want another Katrina, but with global warming the opportunities will abound I think, don't know but guess in our one room rental i sit at the card table far from home, but remeber to be grateful for dry ground and a roof though i do not like what happens here i see the deep poverty and sorrow all around me, feel the bigger call to do something i don't know what but guess at compassion in action where it finds me it is night and someone called me from Burma today. i couldn't afford to answer, but it's there recorded Iphones do that take us way past ourselves clikidy clak the keys tap out a message maybe just that i am here trying to know how to help, i am here anyway, i write into the night of hurricanes and sorrow, i write love letters to this world to the piece or peace that i am I write love letters into the night
i call my new biz buzz Just Connections it's fair trade stuff from around the world so when the connections pop up for me here there and everywhere i am astounded at the red threads that link me to everything in the Universe what I see is golden light made of nothing but love though the mountains sometimes fall and the people roar in pain for me there is just One a tapestry tightly woven and not thread bare quilting our way through the valleys wars come money flies children grow parents die and still there is only that love glue given many names but only One a stronger thread than any chord humans have made.
Too Much Media or Facebook Overload
maybe im just exhausted from too many computer hours making my dream online Fair Trade store come alive or maybe i'm really just sick of everyone who knows everything and quotes everyone who knows everything when i want to sit in the moonlight or sunlight and listen to the voice of a universe i am a very piece of feel her filling up the spaces that are empty from too many answers i want to soak my feet in the water of oneness, lay down on the bed of not knowing empty the brain and open the mind i don't mind being ingnorant, knowing i learned a long time ago won't save me i let go like a monkey jumping from tree to tree not even a whisper of fear to keep me from smiling
Old Women Believers
divine love is my light my very life who then can intimidate me i hear the raging sometimes going on right under the same roof where i live reminding me of childhood abuse and danger but just one deeper thought and i am no longer afraid we old women are still haunted by stories that sing dirges in the ears of our pasts we cannot endure a child's pain or the errors of the arrogant greed rides on our backs causing ultimate aches and yet we who have endured so long see light in this dark planetary crisis see something so beyond even the rising seas and the toxic clouds the used to be our breath see waves of hope coming from the very humans and earth that seem so destroyed we are still here waving the flags of our old clothes standing in the midst ready to leave if it is our time, but willing to stay we can play in the back lash of what we have done capture a prayer, a poem, a story a painting hold all as we have our own children and grands the prickly pears and the soft sweet babies the wrinkled knees and thinning hair give us a clear idea of all that really is beyond this burial of a must pervasive jointly held illusion we are here for the funeral the interment and finally the resurrection of reality.