Civilized

you were told to wear clothes

and given rags to hide your beautiful nakedness

the beings of the forest no longer knew you

scent of water soil and green buried in the sweat of the coerced

an acrid odor

fetid like swamp and all the most delicious prey know

to flee deeper into the shadows that fall across your eyes

buried dreams speak as loud as innocence lost

                as loud as murder

you were given food and you were grateful

belly swollen

stick limbs

you saw your brothers waste and die

turn grey

no dark mahogany coffee cream-soda chocolate burnished skin

just pitted with death and foam at their mouths

no voices left to cry for

                just one sip

                                just one bite

your mother’s shrunken breasts, her salt tears

she had no chance to save them

                are you the lucky one?

the stories in your eyes are nightmares

piercing the lies we tell ourselves in worlds of plenty

                it can’t happen here

the sadness fear and anger eyes of betrayal

you work to pay for all that was free in grandmother’s time

your father held you to the sky in one brief moment of joy

                another nick in the wall of eternity

before the rains dried up and the grasses turned to brown

receded down to dust that rises

coats your skin and chokes your throat

the cycle of the bees broken

no more milk no honey

your mother’s breasts are barren

                cold

and help arrives to steal your mind

the price of food and land that used to be yours

you were churched and schooled enough

to pray for the success of what destroyed you

you spoke to me with tortured eyes

you demanded more and, not given

turned in upon yourself

the anomie of unanswered Want

the empty depth that hardens

                ages

                                breaks you

the atoms of your death can’t even feed the hungry earth

                no water

we’ve changed the planet to fit a mold

cast by a being no one has seen or heard

except in dreams or visions

and still you stare with ancient eyes

your urgent aching songs unheard

we lost your ripe juicy lips and cheeks

your golden dark

                your sturdy limbs

the center of your spinning galaxies

yet songs like molten honey burn and seduce

sun eye unblinded by the night

                and like the sun

                                you rise

Thunderbird Boogie

I.                    The Argument

autumn air is crisp and clean

mountains dressed in gold

and russet

evergreen spikes interrupt holiday clad hills

scent of the dying old year

sweet and smoky

warmer than years gone by

the climate altering our round of days

I take off layers of scarves and jackets

fall teasing my nostrils with chill promises

but summer haunts the hillsides

not giving in to expectations

occasional surprise of flowers unblemished by frost

or even the sudden snowstorm that came the other day

sparkle spot of crimson orange violet

violent explosion of life that tells me

everything has changed

is changing

that unseasonable soft warm sudden breeze

shimmer shakes unfallen leaves

music of a world in flux

the veil between hard world and cosmos rent and gone

what have we done?

living out the blessings of the past

while stealing futures unknown and unsung

our fortunes blind

we gratefully accept what is not ours to take

so many lives I cannot know so many places I’ll never go

the shimmering buzzing ghosts of bees

brought to death by human machination

grows

expands

fills ears and eyes

drowning cries of those whose lives destroyed

by hunger war the need for flight

and in that endless running

homes societies torn down apart

Ratatatat!!

the guns

mangled bodies

the dead cities

starving wasted limbs and giant liquid eyes

who has looked into the eyes of the children of war?

not I, in my golden cocoon

as nests of poisonous snakes multiply unseen beneath my feet

fed by greed and willful ignorance

no predators left

the forests have fallen to the giant teeth

the grasping jaws

of those given license by some made up God

whose fabled grant of Dominion usurps the natural law

the knowledge of the Old Ones tossed aside like worn out shoes

ancient wisdom torn and spat upon

Money knows Best!

II.                  The Vision

i saw a charnel land

isles of death

the blackened stalks and stumps

 the silent skies

world waiting for the end of days for humankind

the heart of the cannibal giant

dreamed into being by the worst natures

dark lords of hate and envy

from Lovelock Cave the Si-te-cah poured forth and Danced

in the forests raging ragged redhead pale faces

swelling with greed

heart-fed veins black snakes beneath the soil

blood black viscous

defiling the land and the crops and the water

hundreds of unknown and unmarked spills of blood and oil

the tops of mountains gobbled by the great maw of the eater of worlds

the State’s private army pollutes the ceremonies

ravages the prayers

persecutes the most powerful of the powerless

anyone whose humbling

will make the State appear potent

earth’s children running naked from the flame breath

dragon breath

earth’s children standing

like stones

block passage of the snake’s foul head

the cold dead world

no food for the living

yet incubates seeds of life deep within

shrugging away the takers

flicking off like fleas

like lice

crushed beneath boulders heaved by the Mother’s giant roar

Enough!

she calls on Thunderbird

Great southern condor

to cast his vast shadow over the land

to circle and spiral and dive

snatch up the hydra!

the snake coiling pregnant with black death

spilling deathblood deep into soil and water

Enough!

will we be as the numberless stars Rising

immutable

or will his wings blot out the sky?

                The Dance of the Thunderbird has begun

Being Becoming

chasing the muse
i let her catch me
and fill my soul with her sweet honey
but sometimes she hides
sometimes really well

you never know
from behind which tree or cloud or stone
your muse will surprise you
seduce you again
it will be like she never left

Ascending Moon

now is the time
as november’s dark descends
to learn to love the night
now is the time
to remember all that’s lost
and let it go
to trace the shapes of dreams in constellations
against the cold black sky
  
night bleeds slowly
into zen brush wash of day
an occasional flash of russet sinking
measure by measure into deepest umber
the edges of the dawn and evening
run together
blotting out all memory of golden light
and colour

trees newly unburdened of their leaves
stretch blushing toward the sun
not settled yet to nakedness
to pallid dormancy
till spring shall clothe them once again
in emerald finery
 
clouds layered in sheets of grey and shadowed mauve
illusions of swirling softness smothering;
the dance of death and sleep begins

one momentary ray of apricot november sunlight
limns the lengthening shadows
in antique gold, fading to silver
as the ascending moon opens up the door
to all the halls and rooms
and wildernesses to come

Magic

where all the leaves have faces
and all the stones are bones
the clouds are sleeping buddhas
and the bowl
the source of all 
paints klimt patterns on the trees
who hold the platen of the sky like tentpoles
and all relations wink and flow and merge
into the endless empty fullness
stars stutter stammer twilight songs
and mother embeds klimt's visions in soft skin
traced by my lover in the moonlight
with his tongue

Restless Boots

              

the sidewalks end, where ghost-filled streets

give way to wilderness clutching at sleeves

where long scratches tear flesh doing battle

with untamed nightmares

unknown and unspoken

not Safe, as the digitally preserved streets of youth

the snow falls

step out, over, across

escape the tendrils grasping infant consciousness

boundaries of thought ignored, broken

time to face the music

strains of forgotten jazz syncopation

experimental notes, notes without names 

shared with words, outgrowth of rhythm and rhyme 

no definitions, only fish leaping in the upsweep of river

struggling for life and for history; it is time

and the snow falls

cold, lost, no fire, no light

all familiar must be forgotten, undone

to a time before experience stains pure essence

snow falls unending

stark world beyond comfortable illusions

black mountain crags jut beyond chaos below

symphony of awe-filled wall of magic sound

the dance is on fire! the world is on fire!

psychedelic gypsy colors blazing at the heart of creation

every imaginable shade

to cut the fog of passage through the wilderness barrier

the beautiful wall built to keep the Others out

only serving to keep the builders in

afraid now

emboldened escapees dance like cats

each in their own shadow, lightly brushing each other

clawing, rending the fabric of unexamined meanings

prisms breaking light into rainbow angles

illuminating the diamond dusted landscape

sinuous trails of music

calling heart, calling heart

calling mind, conscious thought

calling what was forgotten in the broken mornings of despair

calling down the enemy fantasy, the every fantasy

held tight in the nexus of language and song

pounding feet, whirling arms, snap heads

eye contact and laughter

open to shared visions

music in glassine embrace

translucent and permeable

the baying of the dogs of war

in muffled snowbound streets

are lost in this new clarity

the time has come

                the sidewalks end

                                          

© 2015 pamela twining