The screen is up and
Borough Boy is
exactly as I write this
5:18pm on Labor Day, 6:18 where
it's happening in Saratoga, New York.
The last race of the last day
of the iconic meet.
No one knows
what is and what
History is still
and could break both ways
People don't know if they
are themselves or someone else.
They believe its up to the mystery
of another forgotten consciousness
who has control for some unknown reason
because its unfathomable that
someone else exists.
The answer is
where what sets
the soul on fire
is the treasure bound.
Maybe that also means
Without judgment there
gravity holds without effort.
A stone’s throw takes
but not the descent.
We are it’s descendants.
We fall exactly
the same way.
Except there's a block
from the answer:
a willing surrender
to go down.
The neurons fire
In love tonight
The singing choir
relieves my fright
sleep with the Rose
submerge the sea
The bower knows
what’s inside me
She’ll come again
her song the wind
ears to the floor.
Don’t say a word.
Love’s almost born.
Let conscious breathe
you won’t I know
but can’t we dream
away we go?
blues Christ can play
The bells adorn
The nightly day
The purring moon
she finds her tide
we’re in a swoon
away we ride.
Her romance seeds
The worlds best deeds.
I know it wasn’t fair
to those who dance below:
Between our creaky stair
Descends our nightly ghost.
I’ve come to see my girl
Her sister plays alone.
Here in her deathly world
Her grievance sings her song.
What does she want from me?
A willingness to die?
Like Jesus on the tree,
A needle through the eye?
I sacrifice my bliss
For you my little sis.
In A Tree House
Will someday split you open
Even if your life is now a cage,
For a divine seed, the crown of destiny,
Is hidden and sown on an ancient fertile plain
You hold the title to.
Love will surely bust you wide open
Into an unfettered, blooming new galaxy
Even if your mind is now
A spoiled mule.
A life giving radiance will come,
The Friend’s gratuity will come –
O look again within yourself,
For I know you were once the elegant host
To all the marvels in creation.
From a sacred crevice in your body
A bow rises each night
And shoots your soul into God.
Behold the Beautiful Drunk Singing One
From the lunar vantage point of love.
He is conducting the affairs
Of the whole universe
While throwing wild parties
In a tree house – on a limb
In your heart.
Worry is wasted life force pic.twitter.com/TWhFzEsr0g
— Deepak Chopra (@DeepakChopra) March 9, 2015
This first one is in iambic tetrameter with the structure of an English Sonnet:
I lost you to Arabian nights:
The god Apollo’s basketball.
You had that day Queen Isis eyes..
Unfolding reddened fall leaves song.
It does mean something here in snow.
The Mārga flames the Firebird’s beak.
Somehow it made me let you go,
So silent beings now can speak.
I reach across the earth for you.
Across the universe I fly.
You’re under spellbound mountain dew.
Asleep by mirrors’ watchful eye.
Then something shakes the arch’s gate.
The colors open again Finn’s wake.
This second one is a straight English Sonnet, having the structure and the 5 iambic feet per line, iambic pentameter:
It’s thought itself that’s separating us.
My little molecules are calling you.
So Jesus told the mountain, “Part to dust!”
And said let go, that you could do it too.
Transparent eyes that cover Western skies.
I hook the trailer hilt that pulls the sun.
I search for you each night on moonlight drives:
Some feeling in the heart that you’re the one.
You pulled me out of the beach’s seahorse sand.
And ponied up the soul for Daphne’s bed.
With wildest sleep we wake this magic land
Sing witches stirring lives from worlds we’ve banned.
The tea room veils the river’s bride in frost.
All calling for the princess who’s been lost.