Between the Trees and
the Locust cries
You can hear the soft
moan of the Summer breeze
You ruffled my leaves
and I began to cry
the saplings will
All wither and Die
I was somewhere in between
two towering elder trees
I was overwhelmed
Opportunity ripped out from my arms
I went down to the creek
and took a Deep draw,
I rose to my feet and
Spread my limbs wide
and for the first time
I opened my Eyes.
When the result is Success,
How can I be Wrong,
And How can there be Progress
If we Never change the Song?
How can Someone See
If their Eyes are Halfway shut,
And How can something Be
If it’s throat is Always Cut?
What makes Good,
And What makes Bad,
If Holy-men Killed, would
Criminals be Sad?
If there were no Bloodshed
Then Nations could Not Rise,
And How could Trees Grow
If Nothing ever Dies?
Lubricity and Deviance
Metastasize like a Cancer,
A Mournful,
Blissful Grievance
Smiling with
the Answer
A Mountain Man with Grizzly Eyes
Lives on Land in Mountains High
He runs like a Beast and
Beneath the Starlit Sky he sleeps
Mountain Man in Mountains High
In love with Wilderness Uncivilized
Screams at the Trees and
Howls with the Wind
In Wilderness Uncivilized,
Until one Day
Men take him Away
From his Land beneath the Sky
And Dress Him in clothes and
bring him to the Town
There they tell the Mountain Man
To sleep in House and wear Hat and Buttoned
Jacket,
The Mountain Man drinks Whiskey and Wine
and People all say
How He’s doing Fine,
All Dressed up and Drinking the wine
But at Night the Mountain Man can
Still see the stars
And he knows that beyond the Cold, Stone walls
of Chaotic civilized Town,
There was the Mountain
And when he is in bed he sobs quietly
the tears roll Down his Roughened skin
But the Men of the Town
had said it’s a Sin
To live where there is No God
So the Mountain Man stayed and
Lived out his Days
In the Barbarically civilized Town
And at Night his very Soul would Ache and
silently He cried
Quietly and All Alone until
Mountain Man had
Died
In a Great Wood that is mysterious and old, and unfathomably large, There is a stream that wanders through It’s heart into the very Deepest, most gloomy part Where the air is still and the trees are ancient And the sunlight sifts through the mossy boughs and the Water seems to twinkle and glow As it softly washes the stones in the stream and runs gently over the Forest floor, and in this Archaic Wood of untold lore, deep within it’s mystic core The moss grows thick and Wild beasts live in the dense Labyrinth and almost a sense of Enchantment is conjured in this secret place where time is never wasted, never hastened but the passage of Time is difficult to measure in this Otherworldly treasure, a timeless and Beautiful Wood of forgetfulness. In these Woods there is a Wanderer who is seldom seen and he drinks from the stream that wind down the Forest floor, and he is a friend to the flora and Fauna and carries with him a Supernatural aura And knows not where he is going. He appears in the gloom beside a tree and disappears in the shade without a trace but the sounds of the Forest echo with his laughter and where he goes Nobody knows, the sounds of the stream become his voice, gaily singing to the Beasts and the Trees And he is not Lost but has found his way In the maze of the Pathless Wood and there he spends his days in the eternal twilit, eerie haze, Dancing into the ageless Forest. He cannot be seen by those who look to find him, Appearing at twilight as a shadowy sight humming softly in the firefly lit night, and fading away quietly and gay out of sight, Into the still Forest air until the Sun is set and he does not Let the Darkness scare him, For He is at Peace with the fiercest Beast and the Creatures of Fear. To Him the Black is clear as day, For the Wanderer has found his way. In this Ancient Wood where the stream flows Pure and Bubbles and gleams and the Forest seems an Indescribably beautiful, Vivified dream, I walked alone, and I was Lost. The Spirits of the Woodland Trees beckoning and calling me but I could not see, for it was dark and they were hidden by Leaves and Bark, and I was all alone and No light shone to show me the way, and I was Afraid. Sitting upon the massive roots among luscious moss and fork-tongued newts of a living wooden Giant, I closed my Eyes and there I lay at the feet of a Tree and I realized that although I could not see, my ears could discern from the voices of the Swallow and the Turn, the sound of Lighthearted laughter. Beside the stream, so pure and clean, There was a Wandering figure in a Dimly lit grove nestled among a fresh grassy clove of herbs and sweet flowers and the Forests patient, deliberate powers Drew me towards him. He was not afraid and he showed me the Way past Beast and Shadow and through the Dark places and the sad, Worn faces of forgotten memories, and he was my Guide, and by his side There was no longer any need to Hide, For the Blackness was emptied of Hate and filled with a Peace that Transcends the least significant of Worries And the Night was a place where Souls take flight and Soar above the forest Floor and alight among the starlit stream High Above the sleeping World.
Original Poetry 