Guardian Angels (graphic art)
Mysticism
No One Listens to the Prophet (a poem)
The prophet travels through the mountains
Reading the desolate landscape for signs
She misses her family dearly
She had to leave them all behind
The prophet had to go on a great journey
And warn the people of coming dangers
Recently she’s begun to worry
Of her society’s rapid changes
The people have lapsed into sin
And we all know what happens next
The great flood will soon begin
And wipe everyone off the map
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Where Does the Eternal Lie? (a poem)
Where does the eternal lie?
Some things can’t be seen with the eyes,
Like infinite doom-loops in my mind
And the everlasting disguise of
Angels and demons
The deity is malicious; he crushes me
Between endless surging waves
On undying shores of violence;
Where does the eternal lie?
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Liminal Spaces (a poem)
What is this enchanted place?
You look as though you’re my killer
But no, you’re the savior of those
Lost to tendrils of dark philosophy
When I saw imprints of the Psalms
Tattooed on your grizzled face,
I knew straight away you’d save
Me from this god-forsaken place
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Last Hours (a poem)
Can I surrender?
Or will I keep fighting egos?
Drink from the poison chalice?
Where is utter peace?
Forget the journey to enlightenment –
Surrender to base desires;
Flesh is more potent than spirit,
Holy Spirits eat my flesh
In inordinate, passionate fires –
The Mind of Christ bursts
With vicious images
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Shadows and Me (a haibun)
The hand and the shadow. As the sun sets, light fades through the window. The angular shadows beckon me closer. I reach out with my finger, looking to meet my Shadow Self on the wall. Seeking to integrate those parts of myself I deny and push down. What happens when I touch the Shadow Self?
Hand seeks the shadow
Shadow reaches to the hand
My two selves’ touch
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River of Saviors (a haibun)
Washing in the river. Washing myself clean. Clean of the dirt and grime of a society gone mad. This is the way of my ancestors, to wash in the river away from the frenzies of the city. The water is cool, and my blood runs ice-cold when I step inside. I feel the purity of the saints.
River cleanses me
Of evil impurities
Baptismal waters
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Connected (a haiku)
Door to the Subconscious (a haibun)
The radiant room inside your mind – lit with bright pinks, purples, and blues. Deep inside the dream world, we’ve accessed your subconscious. Down the narrow halls, leading to forbidden desires. What lies beyond the door?
Beyond the bright door
Lies memories that make you
And also break you
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A Visit from the Angel (a poem)
The angel visits me.
Shocking sound, vast colors, she’s suffused in light. A messenger, her words deeply stirring. Her face purest yellow, shining,
smiling, brings ease, a luminosity
She says everything
Will be all right,
All’s well, all shall be well,
All manner of things
Shall forever be well,
Like Julian said
Centuries ago
