Volume IV, Issue #13, February 1999
 

1, 2, 3 and counting...

and in our image
we built the computer
fine tuning
the enter key
the delete key
back space
and escape
justification
shift
lock
control
alternate
scroll up
scroll down
num
end
pause
break
home
live chat
anarchy
in poetry, philosophy
and any domain we want to create
then spin our web
selecting personal glitz
graphics & even sound
moving pictures
an elfin tower
to view the clouding rain
& even find
the humor in human
the heart truly in love
with beauty all around
& we are part of all that beauty
wearing this mask or that -- hiding to be found
the lively game of hide and seek
our childheart -- forgot in -- the hustle, bustle
of authorities passed-on fears
like a newborn baby in ancient cloths
o baby born of love
masked for survival
soon, o how soon
may we come out and play?

-Anona
 

In our image
we revel
watched over by machines of infinite grace
delicate balance of day and non-day
calls us to our senses
heeds us of rhythms
that precede, maintain and survive us
but of which we grow heedless
in our headlong, headstrong journey
while outside the battlements and towers of the empty castle
children play

-Anon
 

Come into this garden
like a flower or a bird might
as a sunbeam turning leaves
to gems of rainbow dew
as sweetgrass knowing harvest
of a day & night.
A million different stories
got us here
in the telling is the need
to understand
what was dancing what was war
& what was hell.
All is we in part of everything
...it is time
to celebrate the toilings
of one life
one hour or one moment to remember
we do indeed, love dance.
The flower does not die
without some praise
nor lives because of some
goggled discovery --
a flash of color cornered
in some eye --
but whispers secrets to the quiet
& humble heart.

- Anona
 

Dance, Dance, Dance
with Heaven's only daughter
Turn, turn, turn
Will we turn wine into water?
Run, run, run
in the moment of balance I caught her
fall, fall, fall
A cloudsome rain, I falter
 

- Anon

it's our secret you know
this place beyond the fairy tale
beyond the frog once kissed, becomes a prince
beyond the beauty once kissed, awakens
this place we were tumbled into
(noone just stumbles into)
where secrets of the heart are shared
there are no weeds here
no flowers fear to sing
no deer runs startle by our passing
they will banish us for sure
if we would think to tell...
denial being the easier road than truth
'they' are not ready to learn
a frog prefers a frog

- Anona
 

When life is run will pain be gone?
Off this coil do we cease our toils?
a cycle unnaturally delayed loses its beauty
the circle becomes a box
of our own design
but a box nonetheless
peace comes dropping slow and perhaps only in dissolution
freedom comes in many guises
ideath, ideath, ideath
and moving onward/upward
is not unnatural even when delayed
when the lessons are learned
do we know the truth?
or is truth something that waits for when we are ready?
The little breath/breeze in our ear
and our eyes can see only when our imagination is in focus
at the end of desire
at the end of need
at the end want
at the end a new beginning

- Anon
 

mighty is the pen that flies the heart
to love again to love again to love again
each lesson in this art again defining
misunderstanding Cupid does not decrease the magic
of how nor when nor where a heart is touched
o fragile sentient beings
able to send joy
true
J O Y
merely receiving this gift of words
sent by postal or cyberspace it is the same
the experience is as real as any physicality
no, no human can live longly in a state of bliss
a gift that lives beyond this time-bound experience
physic pain is only the reverse of love
in this there lives the seed of future beginnings
all seasons knowing their own time
Cupid also lives, directs this play
when broad hearts flounder
yes it is scary, knowing any dream can flatten
love does live beyond desire
it is the fantasies that falter
in the light of dream-come-alive possibilities
ah truths
we find - to only find - they redefine themselves
impossible to let go of an old one
until a more clear ringing one enters
this now 'new' reality/truth
plans change with changing times
life
is
between the changes of hearts or ideas
in the average life of seventy years
there are 257,544,000 heart beats more or less
measuring fully each life however
spent, squandered, saved
this measure does not change
there is no measure of love given or received
all goes into a treasure box
retrievable upon recall
added to as able
no heart forever broken
hiding is a part of healing
(good works will do this healing faster)
once healed becomes an even broader heart
than previously imaginable
the meeting of such a heart
is joy beyond desire
joy beyond need
joy beyond the end
and the seeds of a new beginning

- Anona
 

ODE TO THE MUSIC MASTERS

who can remember?
those nerve ending
stimulations
how to separated glorious anticipation from fear
by freeing all the ends?
every frowning face met with a smile
no painted plastic masks
but real as smiling eyes
the vacant stare was scary but
if no one's home, well, no one's home
a sharp left turn will do it
o master of our musical soul
reach us in these dark and dampened caves
ride the breeze into our open hearts
all of our relations and our friends
feel winter coming on
we will breath in the music and the warmth
o all hearts that beat as one
make it so...

- Summer Music

SPARE CHANGE

In the confusion when the rain tames the sea
there's something new, there's something changing
In the profusion where the earth roots the tree
there's movement and arranging
while I'm shaped by sleep and dreams of water
in the ground under the rocks
swelling that river, becoming that rain
feeding that tree, baptizing me

- Ken Peters
Crescent City, Florida