Wild And Dangerous

I swear it’s true when
I first got there they were
dancing-moving-spinning
wild and dangerous

but I blinked, I
snapped the shutter
and then I tripped, I
shuddered

in the shocking lurch,
the jolt of a leaning
planet, glowing
wild and dancing

they are masquerading, faking
like they’re still while they dance
inside and call down storms of stars
and call on floods and fires
wild and spinning

so I wait, just wait and practice
every moment passing,
just keeping my eyes open
to catch them out, and dancing

wild and dangerous

The Grinding Ache Of Beauty

It no longer excites us, moves us
for we are glaciers now, melting
much faster than we are moving…

so beauty in a broken
and breaking world
kneels at our feet

to wash them

and gets ground to powder,
and seems to disappear in
this indifferent static minute.

Yet, Beauty has this power
to arrest us just because
the beautiful’s conducive

to stillness,
to pause,
to hushed breath.

Beauty can make us exist,
different, as tho it’s for
just this stillness only

that we exist, persist in, gripped
by brute cold experience…
freezing, thawing, unfreezing,

blooming into longing, warming
splashing into wet participation
leaving us aching, deeply aching

for the power of beauty…for Beauty is

untouched by our involvement
or indifference, for it can
simply leave us with

the empty ache emerging
in deep unique strange moments
or unsuspecting times…

and those moments
when beauty is neither
pleasant nor pretty,

but haunting?
What of this, the
grinding ache of beauty

thawing in the interplay
between its presence
and its absence?

Haunted, Haunting Beauty

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The place of Beauty
in a broken, breaking world,
how to recognize it
rather than define it,
those moments that stop us
dead in our fatal tracks.

Do you know beauty
is conducive to stillness?
It isn’t that which excites
or makes us want to replicate it…

Source: Haunted, Haunting Beauty

Haunting Beauty, Redux

2008-5-10 Auschwitz No 5 - 6-24-2008 750
“it has long been rumored
there was a night, that night
when Juliek, on brink of death
played Beethoven so hauntingly
in the dark for dying men, starved,
doomed to meet dark doom so soon
but regaled in that lurking dark
with beauty’s fire unquenchable…”

Source: Haunting Beauty, Redux

The Breathing In Of Every Breath

there are those who claw at the universe
the way an anteater claws at a log
trying to scratch out beauty
in small ant-squiggle pieces
about 24 hours long
each one
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then there are those who breathe,
who open their eyes and breathe
and blink in wonder and awe because
of what they see made beautiful
in the seeing, in the breathing in
of every breath
ba73b0bf88c03f5c08453bfb9d8fecdc
those who seek to consume
beauty and thus embody it
are doomed to dissolution
for flowers fade and wither
and end up burned and gone
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but those who simply look
and look again in wonder
will find the Beauty flowing
within their eversouls

made beautiful
made beautiful
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Dancing Double-Time

the glacier moving blue
and stolid crushing step
inevitableness
occasionally makes noise
as it crushes rock
and crumbles it to dust
it listens to the waterfall
cascading off of granite cliffs
and hurling thru exultant air
and roaring in its falling flight

and does not understand
the tumult ringing loud
and shout of exultation
its liquid sister sings
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and so in all its stolidness
the icy glacier murmurs
that waterfall should fly
but quiet in the night
and careful in the day

and keep her singing heart
concealed within her breast
and hidden in the light
and tumbling down…
sssssllllloooooowwwww…
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as if a waterfall
could not sing, ever sing
in joyous flying freedom
and just gallumph along
like glaciers, crawling over
whatever may be there

glaciers grind all things to dust
but waterfalls can fly
and waterfalls can shine
and waterfalls can sing
and wash the stones so clean
and leave them shining there…
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glaciers…wearing vests
waterfalls…loud, blessed
and dancing double time
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Sturm Und Dreck

Do you see it there?
In the sky?

Look up, and let
your heart free fly

That dull boat floating
right at your feet

Is just the mere reflection
of that airy Ship of State

And if you

just

let

go

you can board her decks
and sail away, away, forever
free from sturm und dreck
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Blessed Meek

Hemingway said that one should write
hard and clear about what hurts

but what if what hurts isn’t that
which stony lays heavy and dark?

what if tend’rest touch and rest
is what hurts deepest, what hurts best?

intimate soft whispers, silk
and lacy heart of cream and crunch

quiet whispers over head
of breeze on branch, what brutal punch

is gentle beauty, soft and blurred
by grateful tears, my precious pearls

slipped down my velvet slick white cheek
I write for all we…blessed meek.
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Truth And Declaration

Fire races
thru the velde
across my heart,
and our communications,
conversations give way before
those sooty hot and greasy flames.

We run,
we must accept
the invitations we are given
to relinquish our agenda in the burn
and let our swelled importance and our egos
be consumed once and for all, there and finally gone.
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Invitations
to strip down and get
to what is most important….

At the river
we see our plans
are not as important
as we think they are, and we?
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We are not
as important as
we think we are…are we?

And so
we turn around
and face the hungry flames
and rather than our headlong run
we dance and rise above on fire, on tongues
of fire, on amber tongues of truth and declaration.
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Words Like Poetry

sometimes words,
in and of their
individual selves
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ring like poems
of the highest order
in the dark night
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and language broad
stretches, blanket-like
across the heart
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so those words
can shine and sing
in their entirety
creetown__eyjafjallajokull_sundown_by_coigach-d2oamdkwords like
“Glasgow Cloisters”
or “Cairnsmore Horizon”
glasgowcloisters1_by_coigach-d1laamvand “Autumn Blood Mist”
or maybe even
“Loch Deep Still Water”
autumnblood_by_coigachEach word a poem
in its complete
voice ever ringing
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Lavender Singing Borealis Heart

I sat down in lavender fields last summer.
I sat in the sun in the southlands of France.
The wind tossed my hair playfully in its tenderness
made it lift, gleeful delightedly laugh and dance
with fragile soft petals of swift amethyst
and quick to return to the baking brown earth.
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I stood in the icefields surrounded by cold trees
and singing to stars in the High Northland woods.
The wind threw the lavender into the skies above,
dancing on stars and singing in the spaces that
stretch between stars in eternity there and here
just before it fell back into my heart.
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My heart,
my lavender singing
Borealis Heart

Into The Forest

follow me into the forest
and tarry with me in this deep vale
open your eyes to the wonder
and watch in the shadow of night
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look for the figure of darkness
so pale against those deep green souls
it floats like a thief in the market
purloining the diamonds and pearls
la_nuit_muette_by_sarah__g-d5p7b5g
watch how it throws them up so high
and see them become stars above
but you cannot see this from your house
so follow me…into the forest.
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I Am A Cello

I am a cello
alone in my beauty
inhabiting curves

like mountains inhabit
the space all around
so bright, luminous

and longing for hands
and legs all around
and the touch of fingers

on my strings tuned just so
like winds on the faces
of those shining ramparts

of stone, ice and lichen
that fall to the earth
in splashes of granite

and music like lava
slowed down by indifference
but still singing loudly

under the rainbow
across those tuned strings
and across my heart

for I am a cello

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A Woman’s Full Truth

This is a truth for me…there are a bunch of people who I think have missed out…they think they know me, and yet they have never ever really met me!  “…caught in the easy shadows and then bails out…”

It is not only men who are in this class…some women too.  Some children too…

There are very few honors greater than to be allowed to witness a woman’s full truth, full radiance, full depth. Any man who gets caught in the easy shallows and then bails not only misses a taste of the infinite … but remains incomplete – having missed out on an opportunity to reclaim a piece of his own soul.
— Randall Alfred
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Kind, Beautiful, and Foolish

 

“beauty will save the world.”tumblr_n8ifvafz7z1tqm397o1_1280I read that and went on tilt
tilt permanently.

And when I repeated it?
I discovered this:

“beauty is an incommunicable mystery”Abstract-Illustrations1we worship Her simulacrum
in fashion/beauty businesses
we dissect Her til She’s become
a body flayed and labeled, neat
or purely abstract notion sweet
or distinct but distant divine Tweet.

Beauty, oh Beauty,
my blood and bones
inescapable essence
of my inmost being!7d72d822f5ac322c9286b2d3af488ca5-d8z8ojpYour hand gives help not harm,
mercy sweet for malice-charm,
forgiveness never ending
in the midst of endless non-forgivings
who think me idiotic because
I will not join in the feast
disparaging, destructive
and ugly in the noggins
and practice of those thoughts!

Beauty, let me take what’s cruel,
what’s discarded by the fool
and spin it into treasure bright
and I will caper in the night
become Sweet Beauty’s Ever-Fool!tumblr_nrkyd44pqv1sooy9go1_1280My blood, beautiful foolish flow
spilt from this creamy skin so torn,
stripped away and splattering
upon the dismal dusty ground,
each crimson drop hung glittering
in crystal sun and pregnant with
the chance to drink of God right now
and They imbibe our Grateful Vow!

My face, my bloody hands, my crowns
once mourning, heavy ashes dark
now shining in Her presence sweet,
I cast those crowns down at Her feet
I wash with Oils of Joy and praise
that repair ruined cities there
and step into the gaping breachtumblr_nr0nudVxoI1qas1mto9_r2_1280with cups of cool water sweet
with words like stained glass murals bold
my heart a great cathedral, gold
me with my shards sat at Her feet
my offering of helpless thrall
for She is become all…my all.

And Incarnation sounds that horn
Participate, and come partake!
Imbibe glory, intoxicating!
For it’s Beauty, Beauty saving
all the crushed, cut down, outcast!
Day is come!  Night is passed!!378e8e09c257b65920602dcbf1f17dbc-d8vi64lFor Beauty will push through and soar
high above this broken shore
transcending all our ugliness
in our following, courageous
and pressing thru the mystery
to find the stairs of transcendence
and be reflections of that Beauty

“beauty will save the world.”tumblr_nr8uf1duJA1thfeewo1_500

 

I Lost Time Today

I lost time today…misplaced it completely
as I sat, wondering how
the lavender takes body and position
in the skies above.

Does it wish its way up there?
Does it woo with song and dance?
Notes so sweet floating on air
to paint and wash and seize its chance
to smear its bloody beauty stain
upon the sky’s face once so plain
just blue…and now in wonder-grains
of beauty brief that won’t remain…

I lost time today…

In Waters Under The Living Red Sky

I have noticed a thing
when I am at the edge of creation
(that border between me
and all that is not me)

and my self-knowing
(prison and homeland)
shows me things, creatures
and measureless vistas within.

I have noticed that
a solitary swan never looks alone
while a person can be isolated
in a crowd of a thousand sun-bathers.

That’s when I dive into those colored waves
and look for those swan legs
paddling fast with purpose and poise
beneath what is seen,

under this living red sky.
Related image

Haunting Beauty, Redux

it has long been rumored
there was a night, that night
when Juliek, on brink of death
played Beethoven so hauntingly
in the dark for dying men, starved,
doomed to meet dark doom so soon
but regaled in that lurking dark
with beauty’s fire unquenchable…2008-5-10 Auschwitz No 5 - 6-24-2008 750I heard he played his violin
as if his very life was song
and offered as sacred lament
for each life draining there,
for each life straining there
on every holy note eternal,
every sacred note, sublime…

I heard the guards were sullen
and secretly afraid,
I heard they occupied that purgatory place
between beauty and brokenness
untouched by either one
and thus forever damned
until time finally ends…tumblr_nmaugjGTCt1u19ezpo1_400But some of them were haunted
then, always ever after
by beauty’s power to stop them
from ever being blind again
to human hearts and faces
to human agony,
to God’s beauty unstoppable
and to the aching horror of
the absence of plain beauty…

That common ache within us?
that longing inexplicable,
seemingly accidental
seemingly mere abstraction
but pregnant hot inside us
for such great transformation
that we can rest assured forever
that beauty is not accidental
beauty is not random,

but Divinely Transcendent
Transcendent and Eternal
Oh Beauty, Haunting Beauty.tumblr_nlmnsxwovO1thfeewo1_400

Haunted, Haunting Beauty

and now, here in
these modern spaces
defined by “beholder’s eye”
and beauty tenuous and lost
somewhere in between
there and nowhere
we only feel the loss
of that ancient place,
that ancient ideal
equally abstract
but oh so much more real!tumblr_lwz05n924V1qflyrno1_1280The place of Beauty
in a broken, breaking world,
how to recognize it
rather than define it,
those moments that stop us
dead in our fatal tracks.

Do you know beauty
is conducive to stillness?
It isn’t that which excites
or makes us want to replicate it.

No, it simply makes us exist,
makes us be, as though this being
is our deep quest and meaning
to exist for just this moment
and always just this moment
in longing, in fulfilment
in full participation
together with the aching
the longing for another taste
the needing just another glimpse…tumblr_n6akkn7ghY1s4e9y0o1_1280another glimpse
of haunted, haunting
Beauty.
much deeper than what’s pleasant
far starker than the pretty,
the common ache of beauty!
the common wound of beauty!

It’s beauty that transforms us,
it’s beauty so divine, like God.
For God’s beauty is such a beauty
able to embrace life as well as coming death,
a beauty both heart-breakingly
entwined with our sad brokenness
and offering us something more
transforming, more ne’er broken.tumblr_nmnjt0Cfxl1qa7gx5o2_r1_1280My precious dear, draw close
and listen with your heart:

wounds are meant to heal us,
broken parts of life are not okay, no
wholeness is our stubborn longing
and a most profound brave calling.

We were made for wholeness, dear
and beauty with us, in us near
Oh Beauty, Precious Beauty.tumblr_niyqycZwvG1sorugto1_1280

For Better and Worse

What is worse?
Failure to comprehend
or inability to do so
or simple stupid unwillingness?

Well, those are bad,
but I think maybe
that mindful dedicated
application of religion
is the worst of Worse!

Disguised in pretty robes
and preening in petite frocks
but there beneath the costume
naked greed bathing in legalism
and staring into the mirror
of pragmatic production
of self righteousness.

Opposite of Beauty, that!
Legalism.
Opposite of Beauty, this!
Greed.
Opposite of Life, there!
Pragmatism.

And those determiners
strangle souls
and injure the living
with their so called answers
and blind eye to suffering
and hard heart to longing.

What is worse?
Not knowing any better
and not knowing any worse.tumblr_nkcu99jEau1rebxsto1_1280

 

A Palate Discarded

I am without any poetic elegance.
using words like paints,
with my St Vincent’s Heart
and Random Jackson’s Hands,
one ear gone
snatched by That sword.

I long to make
something beautiful
because I am something not…
beautiful.
I long to create
things warm and worthwhile,
glowing valuable inside
because I am not,
valuable.
I just manage
to echo value,
remind of Light
in my weak and futile
fading flicker.tumblr_mzmyeelf5Y1qzskcyo1_1280Oh!
I think I know now…
I’m a palate,
daubs of paint!
Streaked, smeared chipped,
a mess of abilities and gifts
They dip into with brushes
bristly and disturbing.
They make paintings
and me in hand there…
well I guess that’s the closest
I will ever get to beauty…
until I am laid down
and They done painting

for now

and me there,
then discarded,
set aside and yearning
languishing, staring,
looking up at that painting pretty,
at that bending beauty
so near and yet so far,
so very far away.

Hey,
wouldn’t it be great
if there was
a gallery of palates
used and slathered
held and blathered
in mess and in creation,
the partner of an Artist
and co-mid wife of beauty?

That’s a hall
I might haunt,
a place where chaos
is considered
in the context
of the range of raw materials
present and poured out.tumblr_m0yeqdsEz91qafc06o1_500

For my baby AND my bff AND my Magic Red Door Woman!!

Does she scare you a little? Good. She should make you fear her love, so that when she lets you be apart of it, you won’t take it lightly.
She should remind you of the power that beauty brings, that storms reside in her veins, and that she still wants you in the middle of it all.
Do not take this soul for granted, for she is fierce, and she can take you places that you never thought you could go; but she is still loving in the midst of it all, like the calm rain after a storm, she can bring life.
Learn her, and cherish her, respect her, and love her; for she is so much more than a pretty face, she is a soul on fire.
T.B. LaBerge

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