Tanka of Dream Shining

On far horizon
All of my dreams do brighten,
Fears scattered by light
Of the Son shining in sight
Of the darkness of stark night

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Noble Manifesto

I will read to plant seeds of knowledge to breed wisdom untold,
And so bold, I will continue burning with a passion for learning
To be made no one’s fool or hapless tool in the long school of life
In which I will sing the living song so strong
As I carry along within a throng of humanity,
And I will be lovely for all to see, giving smiles to miles of faces,
Playing in rhythm with angels, marching through the cataclysm
Of apocalyptic terror, while fighting ‘n writing for full freedom,
And I will drop to my knees in an unadorned attitude of gratitude,
And stop to enjoy the wonder of fields flowing with bright flowers,
And even though I may blunder what I should say along this way,
I will never rue the day I was born, nor will I be at all forlorn,
But I’ll adorn myself in happy apparel as heaven leavens my soul,
And I will love with love from above, and cheer the cheerless,
With none to mourn, but all to give to live this apropos manifesto

Note: This manifesto was inspired by Patty and her own manifesto. Please read and enjoy … and thank you, Patty!

Hysterical Chimerical Dream

Sailing slowly through this hysterical, chimerical dream
Where everything is turned upside-down and inside-out,
With one long, loud shout against the banality of reality,
Forcing sun to rise at night and moon by light of the day
In the same way as ocean tides are reversed,
And chimeras ride so high in the bluest sky,
And pygmies stand tall while giants fall in valley halls,
And eagles swim and horses skim the vault of heaven
Without any fault of natural inability or immutability,
Where crocodiles are tamed into docility
With perfect facility to play through day,
And hares are none stranger for posing great danger,
While buffalo roam across Artic dome which is home
To butterflies, felines, all fine wines and porcupines,
While green grass grows atop mountains
Of honey fountains no money could buy,
And all of this is why we sigh, burn against a return
To the flipside where we were born and must abide;
So ring the bell and fare-thee-well to haunting spell;
Who can tell what joy was there
In the fair land so very far away?

Beyond the Tower

The tower stands dark and foreboding, tall and strong,
And I can’t climb the walls no matter how much I long,
And so trapped inside I cry for help to right the wrong;
So one day soon I will once again join the joyful throng

Yes, these walls stretch up into the sky
So far above me and I understand why:
That no resident will ever say goodbye

But the builder never counted on wings
To bring this man out with song to sing,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia to God ‘n king!

So help me now my Lord, even now to set me free
To be all that you would have me be, with reverie
Beyond these cold walls for all of the world to see!

Fly High into the Sky . . . May I?

Can I spring wings and fly high into the sky
With you and leave below my heavy sigh?
Your emerald eyes are enchanting
And leave my poor soul panting . . .
But the depression still remains,
Though in assiduous repression;
Will you not take me with you this night?
Rescue me from the blight of my own sight
With you in constant view instead,
Then my heart will have been fed
From the riverbed of the Cosmos,
Drinking the cream of numinous dreams;
Will you take me with you into the stream
Of heaven and thus redeem me this night?
Oh, for just one flight with you,
Leaving this world out of sight!
Your golden-brown skin and bronze hair
Appeal but not enough to repair;
Allure but not enough to cure me;
And you look inside me like an open book
And read me, then feed me astute words
Of wisdom, but I am but a drooling fool,
Who cannot wholly understand,
And then, upset, you reprimand
Let me spring wings ‘n fly high in the sky;
Show me what it is you want me to know!
Oh, take pity and rescue me
From the City of Humanity!
Oh, tell me . . .
Can I spring wings and fly high into the sky
With you and leave below my heavy sigh?


Note: First published in September 2016, now being republished for the reading pleasure of new followers (and, perhaps, some old ones, too!) Blessings to one and all!

On the Night Train

What cargo do you carry as you come barreling through?
Is it good or ill to seal my destiny desperately or in ecstasy?
What passengers ride along and do they belong to the night
Or to the light? Are they kind enough to mind themselves?
And do you bring grain for the hungry soul or only pain?
Nothing is plain to see in such numinous rain; it’s insane!
But, then, what should one expect . . .? It is the night train

Face of the Phantom Lady

Face . . .
Her face, barely visible, will appear so near to him
To again begin the chase in which case he will lose
But she calls to him with her eyes that spy his soul
And bids him leave this world
Into which he has been hurled
So he tries to reach her lovely, numinous presence
With the very essence of what he is in this half-life
Even knowing he cannot quite reach her
As she is showing him a different world
And he cries each time it does come to say goodbye
But with heavy sigh he knows when to stop chasing
And start facing reality again … but he does wonder
If this mysterious lady is more real than his reality
And that he actually lives in one stream of dreams
While his dear lady comes out of the booth of truth
Barely showing her . . .
Face