Category Archives: Poetry

tired of being a bullet

Poetry, , , ,

I’m tired of being a bullet
I wanna be a butterfly.

I’m tired of trying to hit targets
I wanna float
meander
get there when I get there
stop for snacks
pull over and take a nap
absorb the local color
check out some flowers
see the sights.

I’m tired of aim and speed and straight lines
I wanna let the wind take me where it takes me
I wanna zig the zag
loop the loop
go backwards
act on a whim
get lost for a while
and wind up right where I need to be.

I’m tired of my blue steel skin and my gunpowder guts
tired of making holes in things
tired of the bang and the bam and then …
… nothing
I wanna be ancient and new
soft and light
fragile and strong
I wanna migrate
flutter in the breeze
join my tribe in the trees
I wanna go home.

_____________________

Excerpted from Scapegoat’s Cross: Poems about Finding and Reclaiming the Lost Man Within by Rick Belden. Copyright © 2009 by Rick Belden.

Two Kores ( two girls)

Poetry

you are veiling

my wind

pale voice still

of your unknown hill tops

movements and breezes

and summertime kisses

you stand and you hide your smile

your mona lisa pride

i touched your skin the other night

not by design just simple desire

in the white secret bay

my eyes have seen you lay

i paint your lines

in my trembling mind wishing your touch

and make you mine

the sun rays the wanderers

chromatic wings make

with zephyr play amoral games

if the wind was fabric

rose and silk blue would be

first spreads of western sky

the light plows across the sea river

giving red color of brilliance

waiting for the olive-eyed kore

blind with passion

a sudden stir of wind

the port as i gains its opaque modality of shrine

grow into visible beauty and

opened eyes of the dawn

Kore= girl

Ceremony of Alpha

Free Writing, Poetry

Knowing only the poverty of vision I possess I enter the august lent and sinuous realm of virginity to write in the shade of wood with Masonic Grecian light of the tranquillitythat glows in the clear azure atmosphere into waves and splendour of salty breeze wind words have the murmur of groves and of living waters and of still light And may the fragrant breeze that frees and enslaves obey the bliss of being an illumined lover

I breathe the honey fragrance and a smoke- eye of sea tempest with a list of wine and roses for new growth of self but when the erotic flame dies down the charred lips left burnt black sex phantasy the suddenness of eros and desire waves swallowed by the blaze on the sea silk route to Crete

I rest with the blind light

The Quiet Noise

Poetry,

Quietly the noise arrives
surrounding me
above, behind and below.
Slowly it moves without warning and gently
wraps its arms around me.
Although unseen and unknown, I recognize its face.
My heart welcomes the visitor
and without hesitation my spirit drinks
replenishing my soul.
Forever leaving its imprint, it flies away.

Requiem

Poetry, , , ,

You loved the real me; I made
everything unreal. Listen,
art gave me courage. Did you
know you can act like water?
The moments of madness are still
fluid. Before the paintings are hung,
I can add yellow. Add mountains or rusty,
reclaimed debris. Stand back;  it makes sense.

Even He

Poetry, , , , ,

even he of the seldom sun
must break the pattern of tiger
to map inwardly the climb towards
the forgotten bottom of stars

if i singular last of beginnings
shall speak without speech
embrace without arms challenge
the nectar in the brain
marked with conspiracy there
atoms there universes perform in the habit
of my construct spectrum tiger-free
finally silhouette pirouetting pain

Landfall

Poetry, , , , ,

Through maps of thirst and seas,
Traversing the labyrinth of absence,
Your comely sight finally greets me,
Welcoming the distance warrior
From his now distant wars
Into your forbidden shore.

What do I make of life now,
But thirst in search of its music,
And death, but eyes breaking into sight.

It is love to attempt to measure
The immeasurable with mystery of tears.
So, whoever says love is faith is mistaken,
For love is deed, as hate is deed.
These emotions do not confine themselves
In their shells, they go out into the sea,
Travel the great distances
Till they find their true meanings
In the stillness of eyes,
And how great is the Deed
In such stillness!
But, how do you distinguish
Love from hate?

Love betrays death,
While hate, a traitor to its birth.

Feel the untouchable touch,
The speechful deed!

Do hate, the holy terror
Of tongueful spear.

I come to you, my Muse,
In rushing stillness,
Into your scheme I go,
Your uniting chasm,
Into your dividing peace.

The unharmed wound bathes
In its shadow, washing the absence
Away with darkest light,
Till the tip of tears
Wounds the eyes
With chords of sight.

Your lover is coming,
Riding the waves of songs,
While angels dive into the second death
Of a first true love.

Those eyes tell with their silence,
Your grace the prayer of sin,
Such melodious limbs confess
The virtue of distances.