Poem: Father Geronimo

Daughter, to you I write this medicine song.

 

The world you know is crumbling

Our great grandfathers thundering

I pray, Usen, let the rain fall

Like tears down her pretty face.

 

Your roots are strong

You will not die

Your wings, like Eagle

Meant to fly.

Daughter, I feel you suffering.

 

The four winds change

The sacred wheel turns

Great knowledge and wisdom

Every medicine man must learn.

Daughter, I am proud of you.

 

The love you feel

And pain you heal

Balance and discipline

Heavy news from Raven.

Daughter, this is medicine.

 

You have outgrown this cage

They cannot hold you back

Now that your heart is filled with rage

Like Apache warrior under attack.

Daughter, I know. I know.

 

I want to be your father again

I want to try again

Draw back your bow, my daughter

Draw ink for your pen.

 

I am here

I have always been

I will stay with you

Until the end.

 

You will see

My sweet daughter

 

This is medicine.

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Beat Poetry: Stream of Consciousness

Back in the cemetery with invisible friends, feeling nostalgic again, revisiting dead ends, and dead friends, with dead pens, and garlic and obsidian

I keep the zombies away, please keep your ego at bay, I got a small child at play, the part, the world’s a stage, if love

is war, then your heaven is forged, in the heart of Mordor, and haunted corridors, of my mind, nevermore, quoth the Raven, one more,

time, the rhymes, white lines, sweet poison, the noise and, hard times, all these are lies, my old life, has died, and here I rewind, pay homage, pay

tithes, to the darkness, why lie, this black rose, it knows, torture and bliss, dark rituals, holy ceremony, and true love’s kiss, horcrux, es, true stories, this is

illusory reality, I’m losing all duality, entirety, inside of me, something just done died in me, quite possibly, I’m approaching singularity, event horizon, scaring me, but where, I need to

know, excuse me, sir, how far does this ship go, to the Pleiades, oh, for fact? the eastern breeze, please, carry me back, to my second home

Earth, I know, they’re needing me, they’ve seeded me, I’m on a mission, and I’m bleeding, see, it’s still all g, big G, in me, and Love is free, I see

through walls, these dimensions, solid matter got me stressin, humanity depressed and, I think that it’s a bless-ing, and everything is fine, but the fluoride, third eye blind, confusion, feel used and

when winning feels like losing, I’m choosing, to put my heart on the line, and they got this thing called time, just a concept of mind, man, it’s a

vacation, here in space, and, embracing, the freedom, from chasing, my own tail, my own reflection, I am facing, introspection, this perfect imperfection,

got me feeling alone, healing my bones, my choice, alone, my voice, pick up the phone, ET, how do I get home? When Krypton’s just a fic-shon, get grounded, but still fly-on, through purple skies and true lies, like twin flames, in disguise, like friends at

war, 3+2 makes 4, makes sense, for sure, in dense, environments, I’m bored

but since I’m here, I’ll adhere, to the crude atmosphere, and marry the dark with the Light, Sacred Union, within, it appears, as it might, a certain shade of grey, ish white.

Uh. Okay.

Read it again later. Goodnight.

–AT

#inmyhead

Poem: The Question of Love, a Shakespearean Sonnet

Tis sweet defeat to love, says Lo
Answers Vick, thine sugar is rancid
Am I then dunce, asks I, or no
For defeat cannot be tasted.

Vick, he laughs, at I, and bends
Young knave, if defeat is thine candy,
Then retire thine tongue, or now, perpend
Thou death is thy life’s own fancy.

Lo, she fronts, thou fear the child
With thine zany words, I shrift
Love is unsure, unsafe, and wild
Yet without such Love, is one adrift.

The two undergo such testy balk
While I abhor their argued tenses
For Love is silent, and fools do talk
Neither doth Love to sit on fences

And still my mind doth will to capture
Such honest and absolute, thus rapture