Haiku reflections

sunset and memories
is an eclipse of the soul
required to see

moonscapes and oceans
ebb tides shaping island shores
washing into dreams

blood moon tides rising
shall we choose our own colors
or let fate decide

USS Arizona Memorial – all photos by gfs

The Reaping

_{Sailing skull, Burlington Harbor, VT by gfs}

There will be no more warnings

No more shots across the bow

Are we receiving all we have sewn

Or just a memory of times forgotten

A fair wind

standing
at a precipice
we felt
the earth move
and there
among the clouds
we dreamed
things that mortals
seldom dare
unearthly visions
sank beneath the haze
sand slipping
into an ocean
of memories
lost in time
light filtering
to a seabed
waves (of emotion)
still flowing
even as the storm
has passed
and sails billow
again (reaching)
before a fair wind

The Paradox of Consciousness Part 3

Kahlil Gibran states in “The Prophet” that beauty is eternity gazing at itself in the mirror, only you are eternity and you are the mirror. This is the continuing paradox of consciousness. Is the universe conscious of itself, or is it conscious of itself by seeing itself through our eyes? I’m taken back by the common hours, the days I spend in support of myself, family, and the things that surround me, realizing how temporal all of this is, and yet how important it remains to being. For without it, there would be only void – paradox indeed! Ray Kurzweil and others tell us that the world around us, is a singularity, a construct of our biological computer, where what we see – perceived light reconstructed from the tuning mechanism of our eye, into a construct of the world – realm – around us. The same can be said for sound, for smell, for touch, and for taste. Who is to say that what I see as green, you see as yellow, what I smell as mint, you smell as sage, and what I hear as water rushing you hear as wind. Shall we believe we are simply a biological computer and consciousness is nothing more than the sum total of a collection of elements and electrical discharges that begins at our first breath and ends with our last?
Then there is The Matrix, a construct of intelligence far beyond our own, something with a closer understanding of consciousness so it / they are able of manipulating our state of being, our thinking, into abdicating our free will, and handing over all our free energy to them. Carlos Castaneda and Don Juan talk of the The Flyers, reminiscent of Dragons, a Quetzalcoatl who controls the destiny of humanity.
What I can most assuredly state is we live in a consensus reality. Keep this in mind every time you listen to the news, stand up for your flag, or bow your head in prayer – Are you making a conscious decision, or are you assuming a consensus? Had I been raised in New Delhi instead of New York, my consensus reality would be far different than what it is today. So the question is – In consciousness do you question? Do you ever question? Do you question everything?
Consensus reality can be easy, and it can be very dangerous. Any behavioral scientist will tell you that mammals, including humans, are relatively easy to train, to program, in a sense, to carry out tasks with little or no interference from reason or will. We live in a free will universe for certain, and the reality is we are all acting on our own free will, except that will is easily co-opted, once we decide we are “this” or we are “that” (insert label).
Jung talks about our Shadow Self. If we are to believe that we are more than elements miraculously merged into a thinking machine, we have to delve into thought, and the idea that even as light casts a shadow, then it follows that thought, as energy, casts a shadow as well. Alan Watts tells us that we can’t see our self, we cannot take our eyes out of our head and look back at our self. Movies might be as close as we can get, but who can stand seeing their bare- naked self on a screen. (Except for selfish narcissism, in my experience, most people do not like to be filmed). Yet our shadow self, is where darkness follows behind us, the part of our being – ego if you like – that haunts us every waking hour, gives us headaches, the common cold, and a thousand other maladies, we define as illnesses, not accepting them as shadows.
Consciousness sets us free or haunts our lives, our being, without it all of these words are just ink stains, are just wind blown autumn leaves, yet metaphors make the argument ever more certain that consciousness may only be a paradox to those who question it. Otherwise, thought is simply a means to an hollow, nihilistic end, a shadow lengthening in the twilight, and dust returning to dust.

Where wisdom abounds

Given a choice (which there was)
who would visit this town
let alone stay (to see it through)
the time melts into ages spent
sunset beaches and winter snow
winds whipped (real snow cones)
not flavored ice just chopping
salted streets wreak of emptiness
no one comes ’round here
everything is taken
(an island of sinking sand)

She left for other parts
dreams are felled forests
no promise made (he’ll be there)
taking all she had to give
and thrown away
train tunnel must
will never leave the nose
its memory survives
three dozen years
(was it a crime)
or were they fools for love

January memories
accidental fires (extinguished by luck)
and forgiveness
(who knows compassion)
virgins and magick fell into chasms
seven of cups (drawn by the maiden)
where she slept in her night
grapes fermenting
forsaken summer lawns
burns deep (the soul)
in the woods

Not an ocean (or a sound)
nor the work of the hands
takes the presence away
nor can essence sustain
what was meant by the crown
(on her head)
time slipping away (still it’s today)
while the jester (not a clown)
wraps riddles in wordforms
a reminder of places
beneath (where wisdom abounds)

Image: http://www.deviantart.com/tag/thefool?offset=476

Where we fell

What gates to hell were thrown open
East of Eden
Where serpents slithered in the grass
and branches of fruit trees
waiting to be picked
or bitten in return

What knowledge is so sacred
we should be forsaken its truth
the memory of longing runs deep
where blood stains the rivers
and essence is draining from life

Take all the laughter
children are playing
adult games and wishing they were
Then finding pretending
was more fun than the living
inside the mortgage of life

Eat of the fruit, drink all the wine
knowledge is not to be kept
Dreams so uncertain
are reasons for living
the days and nights as the stars

would fall to their ending
and beginning again
take a walk in the Garden of Earth
Filling the senses
with mem’ries of dreams
writing rings in the seasons
of life

Photo: Google Images – http://fineartamerica.com

Still to be

Far away words have passed
below the surface of reason
skipping like a stone
over the frozen surface
of time

What was lost beneath the blue
the shattered crystal water
melting in the sun
rising with the moon
over mountains

Yours was not a memory
of autumn’s falling colors
of salt scent from the harbor
as nightfall settles in
along the bay

Rain reveals the heart
and sunlight warms our days
as sights we’ve come to know
Entering the gardens of our lives
and sacred places

Time does not forget the blooms
seasons rolling will remind
the willing to sustain
intentions spoken in the dream
forever still to be

Photo: Maui Sunset by gfs

present tense

trees know
they are meant to be
there is a saying
what is is
what was was
and what will be
will be
words
conjured
to be repeated
and believed

do we know time
is past a has been
or a future willed
to be
made real
still
the present tense
or is what was
never more
and what will be
just a matter
of knowing
we are
only
being
truthful
now(ing)

precession of fate

when waters roiled and forests burned
stars maligned and reason left the living
innocence shattered by a storm tossed tide
and paradise lost to the fissures of men

Star Crossed eBook

Star Crossed
Is an eBook release in Jan 2015 of a collection of poems nearly all published on WordPress, now available on Lulu.com and coming soon to Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Introduction –

The term Star Crossed must be as old as literature itself. It occurred to me that so many of the poems I’ve written over the years were expressions of just such times and places – People who meet and because of the alignment or misalignment of the stars, some twist of fate, or long forgotten destiny, they are swept together and then apart by the tides of life, leaving them to wonder what it meant, does it have a meaning, and wondering at life; often setting them on another journey of discovery, one that may never end, or lead to more questions.

To this poet everything has meaning, and in these words it is my sincere desire that the reader will find solace in knowing he or she is not alone in feeling that the universe moves in ways we may never understand, and find re-assurance that in moments like these we touch the soul of life and that those feelings which words can barely express, remain, a truth, forever. Yes, at night I often wonder …

At night I often wonder
in bed before I sleep
the sound of distant thunder
reflecting dark and deep

of songs I heard in places
so far removed from here
resembling all the traces
of things I hold so dear

for the thoughts we come to keep
sacred in our heart
become the tears we know we weep
when dreams from us depart

yet only in our dreams we will
forever hold those times
always in the shadows still
the voice of hope still chimes

and as my sleep enfolds me
I cling to what I’ve known
yet longing always to be free
from what day’s light has shown

journeys in the night enfold
and often I embrace
the gifts of love in life I hold
brought to me through grace