The Epic of Mandala: Canto II

Mandala stopped and watched the protest for

A while, and read the signs demanding more:
more social justice and more distribution

Of wealth. Mandala thought, ‘Here’s much confusion.’

“My friends,” he said. “Do you not know that wealth

Can never be distributed? No health

Can be achieved by making sugars fair

In where they’re sent. The brain would whither. Care

Must first be made to understand what you

Must do if you’d achieve your goals. What true

Purpose is it you would achieve? Do you

Want wealth for all, or mere equality?

The first will make unequal and yet free;

The second with spread poverty and each

Must get unequal treatment. Who would teach

The lie that otherwise could be the case?

You’d break some legs so all could win the race?”
The crowd turned angry and began to shout.

“You’d dare defend the rich? You’d best get out

Of here, you racist, sexist, homophobe.”
“I’d love to stay here just so I could probe

The reasoning behind such accusations.

Is that what lies behind these demonstrations?

Your racist, sexist, homophobic thought

Breeds guilt that you project on others. Ought

You spend some time reflecting so that you

Can cure yourself and to yourself be true?”
The crowd began to move toward him, so

Mandala backed away. “It’s time to go.

Your ears are not prepared for truth. I hope

They are one day. But truth is hard to cope

With. May you fail so you’ll succeed. Goodbye.”

Mandala, saddened, left them with their lie.

The crowd continued yelling as he left.

He wondered at his failure, how bereft

Of influence his words had been. He came

To a café and saw inside a claim

Upon his time he always gave: his friend

Matthew was there. Mandala could depend

On him to listen, so he went inside

And sat, invited, by his favorite guide.

Mandala told his friend what happened just

Two blocks away. Matthew said, “Well, I trust

You learned a thing or two. Don’t waste a word

On people who insist that the absurd

Is possible or anything we’d wish.

They are the kind of people who think fish

Are soluble because they wish it so.”
Mandala said, “In truth, I think I know

Why they are out there. Not because of what

Their signs proclaim. I promise that is but

The surface.” “Well, then, tell me why they’re there.

It’s lack of social justice, they declare.”

“They protest so they will not have to think,

And all the while they fear that they will sink

To filling all their time with labor. They

Are both afraid to work and fear a day

Of contemplation lest they face the fact

That playtime’s over and they’ll have to act

And take responsibility for what

They do. They fear their conscience. It will cut

The fog of power they’ve been taught to lust

For, let embrace them, until they won’t trust

Each other, let alone one who would dare

To disagree with them – they cannot bear

The thought of being wrong – and thus they break

The natural social bonds, all for the sake

Of making social bonds that they believe

Are better. Why? Who knows? They’re too naïve.

In ignorance they will proclaim their will –

And they’ll use force to make sure we’ll fulfill

Their fever-dream of earthly heaven well,

And do not care their dreams all lead to Hell.”
Then Matthew asked, “You really think they all

Protest because they fear to hear the call

Of consciousness and conscience? That they fear

What leisure and thus thought will make them hear?”
Mandala nodded. “Don’t we fill our days

With work and noise? Our music, T.V. raze

Our thoughts when we won’t give ourselves the time

To think. Instead, we only always chime

In with the crowd and sheepishly declare

Our individuality is there

When all we ever do is go along.

We only ever sing another’s song.”

“You proclaim ‘we’ – do you include yourself?”
“I’m trying hard to get off of that shelf.

But don’t we always just accept most that

We hear? The knowledge which our brains grow fat

Upon was almost all created by

Another – we don’t test it all. Deny

What almost everyone believes is true

And you will find your social life is through.

They’ll treat you like you like to murder, rape –

And all because we are a social ape.

And yet, if we don’t sometimes break away,

It’s human progress that will always pay.”

“And what if you don’t think that we progress?”
“When you deny reality, the mess

Resulting will make you deny the arts

And culture, see just unconnected parts

That have to consciously be organized,

That government is what has harmonized

The social world. Too many think that force

Is needed to keep each man on his course.”

The Epic of Mandala: Canto I

Mandala stood and waited for the light

To change so he could cross the street. His right

Hand held his black umbrella to keep off

The mist. The storm’s rain turbulanced the trough

Between the sidewalk and the concrete street,

The remnants streaming in chaotic beat

Into the drains below his feet. The cars

Slowed at the yellow, red electric stars

That ordered inefficiently the spins

Of endless satellites. The crowd begins

To move. Mandala moves with it. He’s budged

Into the street and as he walks he’s nudged

In random walks as he flows down the walk.

He thinks that he and Barbara have to talk.

Mandala lived with Barbara, and they’d been

Together through his Ph.D., from when

They met in his first year when he was reading

His poetry. The coffee shop was needing

More patrons, and they opened evenings up

For open mics at night. She had a cup

Of mocha which she sipped in rhythm to

Manadala’s rhymed iambic verse. She grew

Enamored with him with each rhyming line,

Until she almost felt his wisdom shine.

(It hardly hurt that he was handsome, whole

Addition to the beauty of his soul.)
he finished and she went to him, and they

Had been together from that very day.

And now Mandala was prepared to dine

With her tonight, Antonio’s at nine.

Mandala could not learn enough, and so

His education started with the low

And least complex and moved into the high

And most complex, from math, the simple lie,

Precise approximation of the truth,

A sentiment that many thought uncouth,

Through quantum physics, then through chemistry –

He also majored in biology.

An economics Master’s he achieves,

Then Ph.D. in the humanities,

With major publications in them all,

He nonetheless felt he had hit a wall.

The only time that Mandala felt free

Was any time he wrote his poetry,

Disorder that exploded in the form

That helped contain the dialectic storm.

The rain engaged the waves of hair that fell

Down to his collar, stringing it. To dwell

Upon his past with her, the problems he

Would have without her, warm nostalgia’s plea

Combined with comfort’s soothing voice could not

Dissuade him from his course. This was his lot –

He knew what he must do – he heard the voice

That led him well. He had the choice

To listen or ignore it, yet he knew

Ignoring it would make deep pain his due

And he would end up doing what he should,

And only then would his life become good.

He learned his lesson the way we all learn:
by suffering. All people seem to spurn

Advice from everyone. Mandala was

The same, and so he suffered, as one does

When one ignores what one knows one must do

And wanders off the path one knows is true.

Mandala wandered once the woods – those free

Of messiness, of pure geometry.

But he was told, “My son, it’s time to go.

The world must grow complex so you an know

The way the universe became to be –

You must reflect the university.”
But he resisted, wanting to remain

In heaven’s harmonies. He would not deign

Consider messiness a worthy thing

To understand, to study, or to sing.

And so he fell in love with one who would

Refuse to love him back. He thought he could

Convince her, but she said she was in love

And would not leave her boyfriend. His love of

She who he could not have drew him away

From all his friends, into a forest gray

With shadows, where he wandered, then alone

The first time in his life. The trees were bone,

The ravens watched with eyes of stone, the sky

And leaves were textured, greyed the same. A fly

Annoyed him with the only sound. The path

Wound down into a valley where his wrath

Turned in upon itself, and when he saw

A deep abyss, he looked into its maw.

The empty blackness stared at him, he fell,

And would have kept on falling into Hell

Had not a rope been flung to him. He reached

And grabbed the rope before the darkness leached

His soul from him. Mandala felt himself

Pulled up until he reached the abyss shelf

And aw a bushy-mustached man, his hand

Outstretched to help Mandala onto land.

“It’s fortunate you did not have that far

To fall,” the man said. “You’re a dancing star

Who neither knows he is a star and still

Must learn to dance. You have to climb the hill

Before you now before you can shed light

On others’ paths to tear away their night.”
“You throw me in the pit to help me out?”
Mandala asked. “You fill me full of doubt

Then try to give me confidence to ruse

Above the rest?” “Of course. He who denies

Me, I will come to them. You fell, I came.”
Mandala breathed a long, low sigh. “Your fame,”
The man continued, “Will increase if you

Learn to embrace and speak to all what’s true.”

“I always speak what’s true. I speak in math.”
“A seeming hard, but really simply path.

You have to grow into complexity

And not get weighed down by your gravity.

A single poem has much more to say

Than all the man you know or ever may.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mandala said.

“There’s much more that you need inside your head,”
The man continued. “Physics up through life,

The brain, the social sciences, the strife

That drives complexity, humanities.”

A jasmine scent embraced them on a breeze.

The man said, “Someday soon you’ll see the truth.

And now, I hope you don’t find me uncouth,

But I must leave you know so you’ll find you

Beneath the things you learned – there lies what’s true.”

“You start off well, then leave with a cliché?”

“It’s really all the same from day to day.

You surely know the song, ‘It’s All Been Done,’

The verse ‘There’s nothing new under the sun’?”

Mandala said, “Now wait a minute, there.

That’s patently untrue. With every pair

Of paradox resolved in constant strife

The universe complexified to life

And man, whose brains complexify with time

And social density, to reduce crime

And deaths by war across our history

As liberal social orders make us free,

Emerged to understand that universe,

Ourselves, as much as we are bridge and nurse

To more complex and thus more beautiful

New forms of thought and being in each skull.”

“My lovely boy, you’re wise enough to know

All that, so what is it that dims your glow?

Closed mind, and system, falls to entropy –

Both open both, increase complexity.”
With that, the man then walked away to seek

The crest so he could leap from peak to peak.

But that was many years ago. He grew

To learn to love the chaos, for he knew

It would self-organize without his thought

To pressure it into new form – it brought

Itself about, much as the thought that pulled

Him to decide that it was time he culled

His life of Barbara. What he had to do

Required that he dissolve any glue

That held him to a certain time or place.

He hoped that he could cut her off with grace.

The Epic of Mandala: Prologue in Rose’s Dream

The breeze blew through the window cool and Rose

Slipped slowly through to vivid-dreaming doze.

And in the dream she found a coiling path

That curled there by a complex fractal math.

And ferns unfurled around her, rising high

Around her as a voice said, “Don’t deny

The purpose I have given you. You are

The one I chose to give birth to a star,

A source of light for unwise days to come,

A time when men are deaf and blind and dumb

To wisdom, thinking they can know what they

Cannot, that there’s no limit to the day,

That knowledge, truth no longer matters, and

Their good intentions are enough. The sand

Of foolishness and ignorance has filled

The land. They think the world is as they’ve willed.

And so I send a son to you to bring

A message of true unity, to sing

Of knowledge and of wisdom and the goal

Of unifying both in beauty. Soul

Of beauty is the goal. One day your son

Will bring this truth as a bright golden light

To man – he’ll be a source of fright, and sight.”

The sky was filled with butterflies that stirred

The air into a hurricane. A bird

Then rose and with its wings it washed away

The sparkling insects form the sky to play

Among the leaves. The bird then spread its tail

In Fibonacci eyes, let out a wail

So that that Rose began to cry. The tears

Rolled down her cheeks, the bird-ails filled her ears,

The tears fell to the dust and from them grew

Up twinning briars to a tree that drew

Up to the sky, then bloomed a single rose.

The voice said, “From this single flower grows

A rebirth of the human universe.

He’ll meet with praise and he will have men curse

The very air he breathes. And thus his name

Will be Mandala, as it is the same

As that which hides the hidden principles

Of growth and change that’s realized in the full

And agnostic tension of the pair

In paradox, a truth he will declare.”

Then all went dark, and rose, with echoed voice,

Said, “If that is your will, that is my choice.”
And rose was standing on the beach, the sea

Was rosing in the sunrise. She felt free.

And standing on the shore, the waves would break

Around her feet. And then she was awake.

Apocalypse

The antichrist was given his appointment on this day,
A day which marks an end, a turn, beginnings which betray
A darkness masquerading as the light, carnal delight
Devouring the sheepish goats, those knowing what is right
And choosing, nonetheless, against the right. No, ignorance
Is no excuse for them – they know, and yet they choose to dance
In darkness lighted only by the morning star. They choose
With knowledge, full enlightenment, and yet promote a ruse
To shackle us, indebt us to indentureship, inflate
Us to docility so, mindless, we’ll accept our fate.
The seen is glorified above the unseen and true love
Is denigrated, sacrifice replaced by force, the dove
Of peace considered foolishness, and reason
Is twisted in the gales that rise as mankind changes season.

Beloved, you must follow me into the roiling seas
To battle beasts that fill the waves and ignore all our please.
Alone, I would not stand a second, but together we
Are sword and shield, a glowing light – before us he will flee.
He cannot stand our knowledge and he cannot stand our choices
To act, react, and interact and, singing, raise our voices
In praise and joy and peace. We’ll dare to love and embrace shame
And have the trust of trade, and we will not fear to proclaim
Allegiance with the beautiful, with virtue and the true,
The wine, the bread, the meat of life and soul, the spirit blue
With light and dryness, wisp white so far away and cold,
It seems, at times. But don’t lose faith, the faith that makes us bold
Enough to say that we believe and that we love each other
As we would love and cherish our own father, son, and mother.

The spirit of the antichrist has come to earth again
To change the world, to redirect us, and to make us sin –
We’ll miss the mark and only hit it when there’s nothing left
For us to do, and then we’ll shoulder the whole world and heft
It up, for darkness is not our eternal, earthly fate.
No, those who live a life of peace and trust will see the gate
That opens to another world, a real and promised land
Where beauty, justice, wealth, and truth are freed from the demand
Of power, which destroys and fosters hate and sows the weeds
That kill the complex ecosystem of our lives and deeds.
Divisions aren’t divine; with antichrist we will be split
And atomized, reduced to cogs to make sure we can fit
Into the abysmal machine of his selfish design
Instead of the spontaneous growing of the divine.

Frosty the Hitman (c. early 1980s)

Once upon a time, when they were children, my brother, Todd, and his best friend, Joe Gamblin, came up with a parody of "Frosty the Snowman." I don't know if they remember it, but I do:

Frosty the Hitman
Was a very unmerry soul
With an M16
And lots of ammo
And two eyes of bullet holes
Down through the village,
With a shotgun in his hand
Shooting here and there,
All around the square,
Saying, "Shoot me if you can!"

There must have been some magic
In that old handgun they found
For when they placed it in his hand
He began to shoot them down

Oh, Frosty the Hitman
Was a very unmerry soul
With an M16
And lots of ammo
And two eyes of bullet holes!

Bang-ity bang-bang
Bang-ity bang-bang
Look at Frosty go
Bang-ity bang-bang
Bang-ity bang-bang
Full of bullet holes!

On the Richardson Christmas Village

(With Apologies to Johnny Mathis)

It's beginning to look like postmodern Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go;
You've got Existential angst and Derrida to thank'st
For the ironic references to snow.
It's beginning to look like postmodern Christmas
Putting off all fun
As we stand in line to see the nose that's artificially
Slapped on with paint -- you're done.

Love and Paris

Another night in Paris in my mind,
Another night of romance by the light
That dances on the Eifel Tower. Find
An iron chair beside me on this night.

I don't deny the romance is the ghosts
Of writers, painters, and philosophers --
Of all the beauty that the city boasts,
Their spirit is what in my spirit stirs

A love for someplace I have never been.
But isn't that what romance always was?
To sit in cafes drinking wine again,
The weight of French a mostly vocal buzz.

I gave up Paris romance, it is true --
But gained a lasting love by choosing you.

The Dancing Stones

The stone field lies in chaos in the bare,
Near-freezing, dry, sunlit Antarctic air.
But as the summer ends, the freezing cold
Of night and warmth of day slowly unfold
Their fingers so that they can play a tune
Upon the water, melt to ice, the moon
Inviting all the happy stones to dance
In days and weeks from sizes spread by chance
To loops and circles, order brought to life
By stones of different sizes and the strife
Of freeze and thaw, of stretching, pushing rocks
Around as though they're dancing cranes in flocks
That love to dosado and prominade
Themselves into an order that seems odd
To those who think all order must be made
Exclusively through consciousness that played
The chaos into order. Their white bones
Will not outlast the always-dancing stones.

Melina's Haiku

My dad can go in
A car and we see yellow
Sun and a pink pig.

by Melina Keridwen Camplin, age 5
the only help from her father (me) was in spelling the word "yellow"

Thor's Day

The land left right of Monday told
Me once of time's asymmetry,
How matter matters more as cold
Sings liquid crystal to a tree.

And so it sang its mournful tune
Of all its tragic future past,
Displayed its properties at noon,
That being first will make it last.

And out of all the time it's rent
From just this side of Sunday soon
Will see its profit will be sent
To benefit the hungry moon.

The lunatic has now declared
To all its feathered plan, so bold --
That broken lives will soon be paired
With wealth as we dig bottled gold.

Thank You

When I come up behind you and I hug
You tight to me and kiss your neck and bug

You when you're washing dishes, that's my thanks.

When I come grab you, kiss you, hug you when
You're washing, drying, folding clothes, it's then

In all my actions that I'm giving thanks.

I do not always say it in the rush
Of children, work, and noise -- there is no hush

When I can be so thoughtful to speak, "Thanks."

So I apologize for every time
That I so thoughtlessly commit the crime

Of failing to say what I feel: my thanks.

I thank you for my children. Thanks for all
You do. I thank you for your random call

That says you love me too. For that, my thanks.

My Rumored Pa

The man that's rumored is my dad
Is rumored to have died.
If I but knew, I'd sure be sad,
But tears have been denied.

A hundred men have daddied me,
Some only for a day
And for that reason I am free
So ma can hear me say

[Chorus]
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know
Which of the men who shared your bed
Would stay to see me grow?
I never knew the man I missed
Was his hair black as crow?
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know?

I don't know all the kids I've had
There's more than I can count
Each woman's just a fading fad
You're why I'm no account

Perhaps I ought to mend my ways
I do all that I can
But I am more than just like you
I am my daddy's man

[Chorus]
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know
Which of the men who shared your bed
Would stay to see me grow?
I never knew the man I missed
Was his hair black as crow?
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know?

And so I spread my dad's gray eyes
I give out his dark skin
So many women full of lies
The bearers of my kin

[Chorus]
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know
Which of the men who shared your bed
Would stay to see me grow?
I never knew the man I missed
Was his hair black as crow?
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know?

[Chorus]
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know
Which of the men who shared your bed
Would stay to see me grow?
I never knew the man I missed
Was his hair black as crow?
Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know?

Why did I never know my pa?
Why did you never know?

Shimmering Heat

In these apocalyptic times
Our thoughts must turn to culture
It seems to hover over us
And circle like a vulture

But it has not picked our bones clean
There's politics for that
The heat of hatred bleaching us
The teethmarks of a rat

Upon our femur ends the last
Sign that a living thing
Had been near us could stand our taste
Would want what we could bring

Be gone mere strife I wish to love
The unity of each
More dialectic poetry
Is what I need to teach

Myself myself and me of you
And you  you and me me
And how our actions make complex
This world to make us free

So land upon me bird of death
Who lives when others die
And carry me up off this earth
To join your sullen cry

The God Particle

The boson that is known as Higgs
Gives particles their weighty digs

Then God said, "See, don't give me sass --
If I weren't real, there'd be no Mass."

Song of the Reactionary Busybody

 I saw the neighbor tanning in the nude
But public nudity is awful crude
I went inside to put a stop
To her behavior when I called a cop
I'm glad to say that she is gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I saw a kid off smoking pot
I hate to see a mind like that just rot
I went inside to put a stop
To his behavior when I called a cop
I'm glad to say that he is gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I'm sick of people doing what
They want. I'm sick of every slut
Who shows her giant boobs and butt
I want these assholes to be gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I saw a couple men hold hands
I can't believe that they exchanged gold bands
I went inside to put a stop
To their behavior when I called a cop
I'm sad to say that they aren't gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I heard a Spanish-speaking man
On all but English there should be a ban
I went inside to put a stop
To his behavior when I called a cop
I'm sad to say those words ain't gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I'm sick of people doing what
They want. I'm sick of every slut
Who shows her giant boobs and butt
I want these assholes to be gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I saw some children selling lemonade
Though I knew that no permit had been made
I went inside to put a stop
To their behavior when I called a cop
I'm glad to say that they are gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

I saw some teens skateboarding down
My street. They should be run out of my town
I went inside to put a stop
To their behavior when I called a cop
I'm glad to say that they are gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn
 
I'm sick of people doing what
They want. I'm sick of every slut
Who shows her giant boobs and butt
I want these assholes to be gone
Now all you kids get off my lawn

On Biblical Governance

"You render unto Caesar what is Caesar's
And render unto God what is for God."
If money's made by government, it's theirs --
And thus to anarchy came Jesus' nod.

"Thou shall not covet" and "Thou shall not steal."
How can a moral government then tax?
How can it give away that money, how
Can Christians think it's right, their morals lax?

You are not generous with what's not yours --
A Christian cannot outsource duty to
Care for the poor. Did Jesus come to say,
"The government will save, for it is true"?

The government of God was anarchy --
A common law with judges. Isreal sings
They want a king, and God in weariness,
With wit, then punished them by giving kings.

And we are punished still with all their lies,
Enslaving ways and constant theft. We live
So that we can support them and pretend
Without them we would die and never give.

It's time that we returned to Biblical
True governance so that we can be free --
No government to deify mere man,
No legislation -- back to anarchy.

Looting

There's a pork cloud over Mexico
America's it's name.
Watch as China plots to buy our debt
Until we're bust and lame.

Butterfly and Moth

by Troy Camplin and Melina Camplin (age 5)

I'm a pretty butterfly
I sing happily and fly

I'm a pretty, fuzzy moth
Out at night because I'm goth

I'm a butterfly with wings
With my voice I sing, sing sing

I'm a moth, I like the dark
I like flying in the park

I'm a pretty butterfly
I will sing until I die

I'm a moth and I have found
I like flying without sound

The Fullest Eclipse of the Moon

In the sky is an eye red as blood --
It's the fullest eclipse of the moon
Beneath you the dirt's turned to mud
In the fullest eclipse of the moon

You threatened to leave me
I won't let you go
Your loss, it will grieve me
I want you to know
The night that you leave me
The moon will not glow

You have left me, this world and my soul
Is the fullest eclipse of the moon
And I hide as I'm digging this hole
In the fullest eclipse of the moon

The night's darker and red
And now we both are dead
In the fullest eclipse of the moon
I just cannot go on
Now that you, dear, are gone
With the fullest eclipse of the moon

 Oh why did I love you
The night that we'd met
The moon shined above you
I knew that I'd get
Obsessed, my thoughts on you,
You trapped in my net

In the sky is an eye red as blood
In the fullest eclipse of the moon
Now the dirt in the pit's turned to mud
In the fullest eclipse of the moon

With this blade I will join your soul soon
In  the fullest eclipse of the moon

Too You, Too Me, Too Us

The doors slam and I am screaming at you "slut."
The chairs topple as I threaten, screaming, but
I'm too you to go.

Your breasts crush into my chest -- you turn to sand
In my tight encircling arms. I love you and
I'm too you to stay.

You throw plates against the floor -- you run to get
Your black jacket and your keys. You're certain, yet
You're too me to go.

You kiss hard, smear lipstick in your passion, lust.
Your thin fingers cut into my flesh -- I trust
You're too me to stay.

Our bright passion-dance will burn us, make us glow
With dark love devouring us so we know
We're too us, so stay.

The Devil's Preacher

My daddy was a preacher
With the Devil at his feet
A mostly sinful creature
Who no woman could defeat
He preached the Word, the pastor
Preaching Hell's eternal fire
But he was not the master
Giving in to his desire
The Devil was his teacher
Filling him with lustful heat
Yes, my daddy was a preacher
With the Devil at his feet.

I'd spend my Sundays sitting
In the pew surrounded by
My brothers, sisters getting
Jesus in their hearts and cry
I never knew how many
Kids were my half-siblings there
I never dated any
Girls with green eyes and black hair
No girls beneath the bleacher
Tasting lips so sweet
'Cause Daddy was a preacher
With the Devil at his feet.

Now I'm grown up and preaching
Standing in my daddy's place
I help my sheep, all reaching
Out for Jesus' saving grace
My daddy was my teacher
All the women love to greet
Me as the brand-new preacher
With the Devil at his feet.

The Old Strip Mine

When we were young and still
In love, we'd wander 'round
The strip pit, climb the hill
Look down where your brother drowned
Where boys still fish for bass
There we'd stand and you would sigh
The sun would shine like brass
There in the pond and you would cry

That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young to really understand
That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young, so we both grew apart

We'd row across the pond
The island topped with trees
Were you would show how fond
You were of me. My pleas
Of love would never fail
The silver moon would shine
On you, light on the shale,
And we'd get slowly drunker on our wine

That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young to really understand
That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young, so we both grew apart

And then one day you disappeared
I don't know why you're gone
I only hope that what I've feared
Has never seen the dawn

That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young to really understand
That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young, so we both grew apart

That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young to really understand
That scar upon the land
That scar upon your heart
I was too young, so we both grew apart

Down the Final Gravel Road

Your trailer lights are out tonight
Why did we have to always fight?
I hear the lonely crunch as I
Drive down the final gravel road

Your trailer's silver in the moon
I pray that you will be home soon
I am a man, I will not cry
I'm down the final gravel road

Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
I do not know
Why I must grieve
My loss of you --
What can I do?
I'm down the final gravel road

Your hounds are howling, how they drown
The crickets out -- I see your gown
Before I notice it is you
There  down the final gravel road

I wonder, have you seen me here?
I wonder why you left me, dear
I promise I was always true
I'm down the final gravel road.

Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
I do not know
Why I must grieve
My loss of you --
What can I do?
I'm down the final gravel road

 I was not there
You always said
I did not care
And now my bed
Is missing you
What did I do?
I'm down the final gravel road

You turn away -- am I in luck
You do not see my pickup truck
I drive away -- my sorrow runs
Me down the final gravel road

My long-lost love lives with our sons
There down the final gravel road

The Shower Sage

I contemplate the Will to Power
While standing wet here in the shower

The only time and place where I
Can let the neurons flow -- I'm dry

When I am out -- I cannot think
When all my children want a drink

Ontology can't find a place
When neurons slow, but children race

Around the house -- I watch them grow
But not my thoughts -- they stop the flow

And even these lines are a feat
When little mouths demand to eat

Techniques like these I must employ
To work as I raise each small joy

I feel the water, thoughts again
Begin to whirl and swirl and then

 Before I cleanse my mental drought
There's "Daddy? When you coming out?"

Free Will

The moment shines upon the mirror ball
Of memory, those little lights a part
Of what was woven in our neural flows
That build us into who we believe
We are and rationalized -- story we
Tell ourselves from all these fragments, all
We edited, revised, the flows we chart,
The paradoxes where creation grows
Out of our complex neural network weave
With which we dance in mental liberty.

Spring Rain

Behold the Spring
The dewy rain
Makes voices sing
Befogs the brain

The Birth of Continents

Subduction zones, where up and down's the same,
Where land thrusts up, earthquakes leveling homes,
Where lava rises from volcanic domes,
Are where the Earth prefers to kill and maim.

Here forests can be flattened, burned, destroyed,
And people killed as houses crumble, crack,
Collapse -- a pyroclastic flow attack
Cannot be fought whatever you've employed.

One would not blame the genius who could stop
Destruction of this kind, the lives he'd save,
Eliminating the tsunami wave --
We'd celebrate as human deaths would drop.

But unless land is always being built,
The Earth would be all ocean, full of silt.

The Black Hole

Darkling light, the deep black hole,
Darker than the blackest coal,
Bends to singularity
Space and time with density,
Spinning galaxies, so bright,
Holding all the stars in sight.

Emotional Energy

I think I want to join the flow of you,
The Mississippi brings together land
And streams across America, the true
Of science helping us to understand.

I think I want to join the flow, I should
Join with the Nile, white and blue to one,
To drain east Africa, and thus the good
Of virtue, bright as the Sahara sun.

 I think I want to join the flow, my duty
Is with the Amazon which wider grows
Though South America and bringing beauty
Throughout the world as every rhythm shows.

I think I want to join the flow that made
The Yangtze from its wondrous gorges live
In China, bring prosperity in trade,
And understand the wealth that it can give.

I think I want to join the flow of joy
The Danube brings as its blue waters shine
Across east Europe. I want to employ
The sacrifice that brings us the divine.

I know I want to join these flows, but each
Is not enough for me. I must be free
To bring all flows within my ocean reach
And view the world in its complexity.

Against the Tribe

The darkling water vortexed down
To drag me to the sea’s abyssal plain –
I fear, so certain I will drown,
That every person is my family’s bane.

No sparkling stars leaven the night
Engulfing me as others’ problems fill
My vision, obfuscate my sight
And sap my warmth, enwrap me with a chill.

A life of pressure, bringing stress
That crushes, pulverizes every joy –
A nightmare, I can feel it press
My chest – I’m certain it will soon destroy

With strife my crafted healthy flows.
I only want a simple life where I
Enjoy my family as it grows
Strong feathered wings so each of us can fly.

A Day With You

I want to spend a day with you
Without our kids without our worries
I simply to sit and hold
You in my arm all of our hurries

Spread to the sky to dissipate
Away to carry all our cares
Into the dark where they belong
So we can join the joyful pairs

That fill the poems of all time
That celebrate our kind of love
That fit together and will fly
Like lovely diamond Inca doves

I want to spend a day with you
A life of days that intermesh
Our love expressed as lovers and
Unconsummated naked flesh

A Teaser from "President Faust" (Which I am working on)

Faust:

My Lord, have mercy on my soul! Dear God!

Mephistopheles:

You have the mercy that you meted out.
Too bad, for mercy is the grease of justice.
Her gears have ground down to a halt with you.

Faust:

I do not understand what’s happening.
How is it justice can give rise to pure
Injustice as I managed to unleash?

Mephistopheles:

You foolish man, why do you think we chose
To lift you up? Look at the justice you
Embrace: pure, simplifying order. Don’t
You know the universe’s tendency
Is toward much more complexity? The chaos
Becomes the atoms, then the molecules
Emerge, then life and mind and consciousness
In social man. And then in man we move
From tribe to heroes like Achilles, then
To Christ-like pieties and on to men
Who make the world in commerce, then to those
Like you who wish to flatten everything.
You should have grown beyond all that to see
The world as more complex and unified –
But, no. instead, you chose to take the path
Of simplifying Satan. Yes! My master,
The Prince of Darkness, known as Lucifer,
He loves to simplify, to bring men down,
To make men animals if possible.
In you I saw potential and I brought
Your case before my master, who then asked
Of God if we could make our offer. I
Am proud I found you, Faust. I found the man
Who’d simplify the greatest country in
The world to nothingness. You did our deed.

Faust:

Can such injustices emerge from justice?

Mephistopheles:

You do not think that out of good we can
Still find a means of evil? Yes, we can
Discover in the best intentions ways
To bring a man – yes, every man – to grief.
The best thing that we ever did was make
Mere man believe himself the source of justice,
Denying God, and in his justice kill
True justice, citing freedom destroy freedom,
And think to be a libertine to have
True liberty. No judge, no advocate,
Just me, the prosecutor, as the law.
I do believe in justice – merciless
And terrible. You’ll pay for all your sins –
And I shall punish you. Yes, you will pay.

Why We're Where We Are

It all began with Archduke Ferdinand.
The war that caused the Germans to send Lenin
To Russia, hoping revolution would
Take Russia from the war. It did. The cost
Was millions dead from his and Stalin's rule.
For Germany the outcome was the same:
Defeat and retribution that would make
The Germans into Nazis and for one,
John Maynard Keynes, a reputation for
His warning Germany would rise again
In vengeance for its punishment. The deaths
Of millions, holocaust. The fascists gone,
Identical twin communism rose.
The West enjoyed a false prosperity
From Keynes' plans as Russian went to take
Afghanistan. American supported
The rebels so the Soviets would fall.
The Soviets would fall to leave the rebels
In charge in rough Afghanistan, to grow
Their hatred for America as it
Expanded power to Arabia
In an Iraqi war. The towers fell.
America replaced the Soviets
In hard Afghanistan, which we paid for
With an expanding housing bubble made
To order from John Maynard's script. It burst,
And Keynes was called to cure what he had caused.
And now you know why we are where we are.