‘Quiet by nature—standing tall
Old stone circles—they have seen it all.
Caught like a ghost in yesterday—shadows down the hall
Are locked within the crystal ball’— Blackmore’s Night…
This length of twine—that is followed by too many—to discover the end of one strand and again new threads in an ever growing tapestry covering world folly and rancor swift—to renew-new strife and re-spin controlling lies and hopelessness—forever twins of faithless taste and wasted twists of truth. Acting within—actions of disguise and discourse and recourse and renewal when greed needs-need-be and never enough—control whims of chaotic seams—seemingly able to fend destructive machines from those results of greedy governments and very few against the purest treasures—of women and men.
In sun—solstice twirls and the now and then becomes the end—begins as fiddle plays sweetest song and silence—whispers across fires stoked against colder nights and sleepy dawns. ‘Tis’ tide- dance we chance this time-around-the-sun and as we streak lights across another space—another day’s slide away from here-to-there—we hear echo fade—made complete in dust and vapor and with just a rough-touch spot of gold. And! Sparking-Sparkle life—close to angel’s creation as little ones reach the newest day with tremble hands-handling first air breathe—blood—mother’s touch—new sound-sighted-delighted-ignited- requited and her whispers—Love.
Sexless Gods—we create—creations of images dreamed and beamed to radiated-radiation—we spirit-dance these sounds without vibrated vibrations or derivations’ chaos there be—than we see and be both the life of songs and silence… We shift into the object of another day with the accepted expectations of extraordinary moments of original thought and lights of splendidly created—creations through perceptions of flashing preconceived originality and overloaded repeaters across a wondrous land of sugar and cinnamon-spiced tea or coffee or me or you or us or…in the becoming of a notion immortally important and into legacy’s realm—repeated and recalled and repeated—now or again—again…
‘Coke-blow’ away the white lined wind—never-end and painless needles spin unreal reality and fade body walks among shimmers of blackness—edge storms—blinks the kitten eyes and scrapes escape to rooftop stars and window shines. There are no sounds of screams—in silence. Music in mind sized level is only inside mind sized ears to once be seen in scales of notes added to working words to form verses of sound mix and chorus touch. An often dream or is this a poem of poet-speak? And! Not to know sometimes creates choirs in four-part harmony…
Circles of…Maybe Life or memory or the almost real of a now to then and back again—Sweetness speaks upon canvas—lines and circles dance and dash as songs play and laughter reaches to diners’ corner and open doors call to inside secrets of ink motions and canvas wet with colors and the scent of orange and green and brown and yellow and perfume inside a night of air and dare and wear and fare or the future of moments again without the layers of walls climbed and discarded…And yes! With you—I do ‘taste beauty.’
Lives of—gathering together strength—of one or two or many more than them or us or we—be power of scatters—no rules to follow—no moral folly or man rules called Godspeak…when those ‘world words’ are the songs of death—control—fiction—suffering and the lies against Spirit—Speak and Life. Women Love…Men Love…Love is Perfection—is Touch—is Peace—is Spirit—Song and…No rules or explanations or ever-speak required.
Again to be—to see…of loving the loving…of hands joined-to-body moving…of swings and wings and…Spirit-singing and peaceful sighing…Creation—The Witch smile and for this instant within a moment of Time—‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Re-wind.
And! Beautiful you are…
‘Ocean Gypsy’—by Michael Dunford
Performed by—Blackmore’s Night
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