Nothing is ours

Posted on March 10, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com
All I have reminds me of all I can lose..
unless we accept that nothing is ours
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Up is All Around

Posted on March 10, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

Letting go of apprehension and looking up, is really nothing more than submitting to the natural condition of a buoyant mind…

There was a fish who envied the joyful expression of parched land travelers who stopped to sip nourishment from his pond. So envious, he would swim around day and night, longing to be human just to know the “real” taste of water.

Halcyon in Cappadocia

Halcyon in Cappadocia

“Up” is all around! It likes to be remembered.
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Fractured Light

Posted on March 7, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com
Even shadows choose to whirl
lithely in the beams,
romancing other silhouettes
seeking revelation in their dreams.

Compassion, do not hasten them,
nor wake them from repose
for in the moment two dreams alight
the awoken lover glows.

Stand boldly in love’s mystery
as slings and arrows sail,
through the strident journey
hush, listen for the nightingale,

who’s song seeps through a cloven heart,
mending fragments into one;
seek the source that hides unbroken
in the brilliance of the Beloved’s Sun.

Photo: Fractured Light Even shadows choose to whirl lithely in the beams, romancing other silhouettes seeking revelation in their dreams, Compassion, do not hasten them, nor wake them from repose for in the moment two dreams alight the awoken lover glows. Stand boldly in love’s mystery as slings and arrows sail, through the strident journey - hush, listen for the nightingale, who’s song seeps through a cloven heart, mending fragments into one; seek the source that hides unbroken in the brilliance of the Beloved’s Sun. (thanks for your impregnating comment Chuck Silver, a poem is born)
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Ode to a Road Runner

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

(March 6, 2014)
Diamond hard headache

you have a chemical in your left hand
and the door is to your right.
Pavement.
Take the pavement, quick.

Oh wrinkled earth,
do you feel my gentle journeys
across your skin?
I am the unfaithful sojourner,
who deepens the creases of grief
that guide your tears to the ocean.

Lamenting earth,
Do you quake for the dead I’ve buried
a few feet beneath your surface
or choke on blowing ashes?
Are you immune to mankind?

Have I been the cause of your tears
that fill the ocean with salt?
I traverse your land on rivers of fear
in search of a sea of fulfillment,
while others sail your oceans of doubt
to find terra firma.

We search for a remedy
until the search itself becomes a malady.
I’ve buried the dead 6 feet deep into your skin –
has this made you immune to mankind.
Replaying life
in the width of a road crack.

I found love in the Philippines
Laughed with Slavic sailors
Drank with Swedish shipbuilders
All in the Port of Inchon.
I became homesick on Rotnest island –
I felt the tempest of history
on a train to Heidelberg,
I saw women in burkas
doing zumba along the Persian Gulf.

I cried for him on a mountain.
I swallowed my soulmate whole in a caravanserai.

I forgave my father around a campfire,
I thought to write this
Here on the road –
I’m amazed at how vast
and hollow I am –
filled with nothing…
The universe follows me
on my wrist.
My time is up.

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Well. I can tell you, I’ve seen some things: The Tale of Don Quixote

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

For Alonso, the day was sinking into dusk
But for Dulcinea, her knight was rising.
Long his lance’s shadow stretched
And thus his stories, picaresque.

He flaunts his tale of espionage,
Purring silent and clandestine
“there I sprung from camouflage
and smote these vile leviathans!”

“Oh, please don’t stop,” the gypsy cries
draining doubt from starlit eyes
From behind her fan of elegant slips
She retracts the rivets to her lips.

Alonso mounts the moment of his concupiscence
to rescue the fair Dulcinea from her diffidence.
But the windmills turn for our quixotic man
Whose delusions are rescued by a chaste heroine.

Years later a man was overheard in Cordoba…
el estaba hablando con unas senoras
“Oye musas, puedo decirte,
he visto algunas cosas.”

“…mi vida se salvo una noche estrellada
por una mujer de gran belleza
que volvio a las tablas de la fortuna
aqui, en mi reino de Iberica…”

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Revelations Along the Path: First Soliloquy

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

Along the spiritual path, we delve into realms

That send tiny truth fairies to us – like wisps of snow
Polishers, sharpeners, honing stones, tuning forks
They make us sensitive and aware and yet it is subtle
The affects of the spiritual journey
Are not printed on our foreheads, glistening in our eyes
We cannot go to the physical mirror and say
I am on “on the path,” no
They are manifested deep within and so are not visible
Not to the physical eye, not at first
Not even to one’s self.
And slowly, we become aware of this dusting of truth
We realize, we are in something huge
And if awareness of one’s “new awareness”
is not maintained with care, practice, meditation, prayer
Then everything enters; the outside world finds access
Even the base, the jealousy, the envy, the sloth…
Such deepening “sensitivity” and awareness means
Darkness is apt and welcome to follow
in the shadow of light.
If the path is toward light,
then that is the intent of your journey
That is where you go, because
You are where your consciousness is.
There will be darkness along the way,
The brightest caves have walls lined
With dark crags and holes
(*and as I just wrote this line someone’s phone just rang with their chime,
A song by AC/DC called, “Back in Black” and chills run through my body…HE listens.)
But do not believe that darkness must be your path to light
Light is the path to light,
It’s absence is also the path of light.

For some time since this awakening
I find
Many things affect me now
The moon, the sun.
All celestial entities
I’m driven to smile at the smiles on faces of others
Acts of compassion that I witness
I see someone and I sense their temperament
Intentions, softness, intellect, heart
While I’ve not by any means mastered this
I have enough that I must be cautious
To not let ego lead me to believe to hastily
This is a fragrance before the taste
All these sensations are nonetheless
amplified
And the sounds of their essence
are growing louder

I’ve been given tools
Even with “tinkering,” I’ve become
More honed, sharpened, polished, tuned…
But there is more to occur, much more.

But first, I must realize these
Through observation
Burn with these, through prudence
And patience.
And most importantly, to do this,
To come closer to God and feel
The trust in that I am worthy
of experiencing these ultra sensitivities.

As I learn to read truth
I see it in the revelation of the message.
When I see with my heart
The true teacher appear before my eyes
When I learn to love
Love will teach me
To learn everything.

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Victims of Education

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com
I’ve had to sign over a dozen inane forms giving permission for and acknowledging the dangers of cooking and sewing class, gym activities, sensitive topics in life science, specific exercises for specific parts of the the body and on and on.

What a sad and litigious world…such fear…that our educational system has become so untrustworthy of itself that it kicks up a cloud of cover-your-ass minutia. Sad that, I’d never considered loopholes for litigation until I found myself entwined in the ropes of my own signature on many sheets of paper. Sad that my tax dollars go to general counsel rather than toward basic school supplies.

How about we all sign an agreement that my daughter be taught the truth; that her imagination and individuality will be stimulated in order to explore unique methods and paths to this truth; paths that allow the assimilating of unfiltered history and science and mathematics and literature offered through uncensored, 360 degree views of society and the world with which she lives…by educated, enlightened, and sufficiently numbered and enabled teachers. And don’t tell me she’s not old enough to explore truth – she is…she is if she can flip through the channels to the MTV video awards and gasp at a twerking child acting like a harlot; if she can know before I do the “blanks” that are bleeped out for profanity; and if she blushes during sexually suggestive scenes on network television.

Let’s expose them to the truth and prepare them to be makers of history, rather than victims. Give me THAT form to sign!

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My Son’s 10th Birthday

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com
Born 10 years ago today, OUR son is an inspiration specifically selected to BE. He’s not mine as much as he is his own. And that’s how he shall be raised, inshallah.

We ask for glimpses of God’s plan for us; THAT God plans for others, IS part of our plan.

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My Daughters Thirteenth Birthday

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

Dear Camberlyn (Birthday girl)

So what do you think of this very memorable past year little thing…or perhaps now I’m not able to call you that as you round 13 years. It’s been a wonderful year in ways you can only begin to count with tears, laughter, discovery, and inexplicable joy. You’ll make 13 the luckiest number of them all!

Darling, you experienced some moments that few adults have been able to handle in their lifetimes. And you have taken this in with a gentle burgeoning maturity that seems to come from the deepest places in your heart – where secrets dwell. How gracefully and modestly you handle new friendships, your studies, and insatiable appetite for reading. I know with all assurance that your mother is smiling upon you, happy, and proud of her daughter just as I am.

I am humbled by the loving ways in which you are unfolding into a young little lady. You should know I admire you and that when you smile at me, your reflection in my eyes lasts for a hundred* heart beats after you walk away.

You’ll always have me by your side, I promise, and no one will ever make you a promise the way your dad does. I will always keep you surrounded by love and enlightenment – as you journey from your head to your heart – can you see it now sweetheart?

“..if anyone asks you how the perfect satisfaction of all our desiring will look, lift your face and say… ‘ like this’ .” Rumi 

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You are This

Posted on March 6, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com
You are not ON the blindly unfolding path, you ARE the path. You are as you are as you wander, no matter where you wander. It is your most divine countenance along the way that creates the barely utterable mystical awareness of where you are going – and from whence you came from. You came through no door, you are the door…and the door before you opens to the intent you hold as you reach for the handle. All doors open inward to the one unique secret only you hold in your heart. Ascension “to someplace” is inevitable, but what is more important is that ascension has been the lingering condition of man since creation. The route may be stalled, circuitous at times, or even seem like its descending…but even down goes up.

“…This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it’s furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond…”
(Rumi)

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Posted in love poems, poetry | 2 Comments