balance of life

there are places

    colder...
    less hospitable...

and yet,

even the moon

holds it’s place
     in balance

     of life

~csr

burgeoning love ~ Haiti

throughout the country

rubble and ramshackle hope

screams mortality

shimmering above

a canopy of starlight

wispers subsistence

far off lands awake

compassion… like  seeds take root

with burgeoning love

~csr

a storm

it’s all about breaking you it seems

the way it comes from various directions

       at various times.

it’s all about catching you off-guard

how it appears to calm and resolve

      pretending to normalize.

though

there is no normal to ize...

and there is no calm...

that does not precede a storm.



~csr

even if bitter

all wisdom is good

sustenance for the being…

even if bitter


~csr

 

 

 

shaped by affliction

as land is wrought through

erosion,  so we too are…

shaped by affliction


~csr

the stage.

she said

    “can you make an evil laugh?”

i said

    “yes… but it will hurt”

took a deep breath

   and let it out

   let it all go!

       muhuahahahahaha!…ah..ha..h.a…a.a.a

    fell off the barstool

    onto the floor.

thoughno one caught me…

     or broke my fall.

they all laughed vociferously saying

    “we thought it was part of your act”!?!

i thought silently for moment…

  then...
  someone extended a hand

     and helped me
     back onto the stage.


~csr

a whisper of you

as the day slumbers

within each pulse of the night

a whisper of you

~csr

 

 

free

stillness impinges

like the eye of a storm…

a moment of inexplicable peace,

   and i’m axis,

   i’m centered.

desire quells

as if in meditation…

where seeing is more observing,

   and i’m objective,

   almost without bias.

un-insultable

un-flatterable

indefinable

free

~csr

 

 

crickets sing their song

for both the underwhelmed and

overcome alike

~csr

a new dawn

Art - Julie Jalil

the cool of twilight...
   warmed by afterglow...
       a sunset...
nevertheless
pursuing the shadow's reign...
    the joie de vivre
         in a new dawn

~csr

unspoken words

the moon hides it’s face

and darkness falls upon us

like unspoken words

~csr

those who follow

a great deal of

     racing around.

distance…

     shrinking.

language…

   a barrier collapsing.

yet

understanding…

    less.

lost is the lasting...

embraced is the fleeting.

with a scratching of an itch…

and a tickling of a fancy…

     life is sold…

     but charged

        to those

        who follow

~csr

before you could fly

here falling free
amid terra and me
lay room to breathe
and gap to see

body and limb
descending on whim
cast down in anguish
it’s pang meant to trim

memoirs they scroll
as i tumble and roll
of moments i treasure
of treasures i stole

answers they question
while questions ask why
"should you have leapt
before you could fly?"

~csr

accustomed

 

 

endless falling...

     into the unknown
and should something
    momentarily seem to make sense...
the fear…

    of becoming accustomed.


~csr

 

 

behind the ears

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jenny-pics/

day arrives…

like an extra deep lungful

    exhaled upon surfacing

        from a dive.

rousing me…

  from dreary,

       damp,

     depths of despair

           into warm,

           waterless,

              waking  air.

though,

    in this realm…

      without you…

       i still am wet…

   behind the ears.

unfolding

Unfolding

listening

   is an interesting

   and peculiar endeavor…

   as is speaking.

one is required to hold

    what was…

    while moving continuously…

    into what is now…

      unfolding.

~csr

beneath this stratum

now… a long way down.

turbulent, flowing streams surge,

beneath this stratum.

~csr

within yourself.

i bear in mind

how poetry

    pales in comparison

    to the actuality of existence.

how nothing tangible

    is transferred

    via mere words.

the poet is merely

    one whom is able to help you

    become re-acquainted

    with something you already know…

    within yourself.

~csr

by morning... ash

with a crack! and snap !

    they launch into flight.

“fire sperm of sort”… roy says

    “with tail in trail.”

carried towards constellation…

   lifted in moonlight.

and there  is significance here

   yet

something far too simple

    for my complex ideas

         to wrap around.

suddenly  it emerges…
 it is life.

 yes,  there is vitality.

it started small…

   and grew…

   it began to propagate…

     attempt reproduction.

     it aged…

        became a steadier warmth

           an experienced glow.
then

     by morning...
           ash

~csr


 

all is alive

Saretta's Art For Feng Shui

i do not see very well

    into the future.
    i romance it...

        and it breaks my heart.

the past… i paint it…

     restoring black & white

     with techno color.

        an impressionist's reverie.

yet

when i course

     along with the now…

     in the  only true certainty…

        for a time...
   all is alive.

 

~csr