Blood of Orpheus


A DEATH OF EROS, A WITNESS TO DISASTER

‘Seeing so much activity of the mind devour her natural beauty

is painful in that blame is always the culprit, to blame others,

to set sin in the heart and feed it anger and hatred, I feel her

and she hates that the shared experience takes place.

A field of rolled hay, the Georgia green fields that when absent

I yearn for as a long in the past love, this land, this air,

Life is always balancing and sometimes it does fall, it is in the Fall

We understand our own methods of what seems to me as

Ridicule of the heart and the mind, of a war that despises the spirit

Rather seeks to understand the Holy Spirit.

I know.

I fought it all my life up until the moment Christ entered and spoke

As he does to many, he spoke those piercing words from his own wounds

Into those who are open to this event, this unraveling of discord: the awakened soul.

I pray she awaken.

The meanness and name-calling, the rumbling roar of hatred shoots across constellations,

I pace each room looking at what I can and cannot move, what and how

Shall I move into it’s place as a memory catcher and lightening rod to poetry

And music, as a direct course to writing again when I see so many boxes

Filled with notes, version after version, expansive poems it hurts to imagine

What awaits, but wait they do and so here I piddle, wondering how to help

Heal one cannot be healed. It hurts to see how she destroys the beauty of Spirit

And of God while thinking it is a direct line. It is not a direct line.

I fear madness has taken hold and she cannot cope sober and blames

Others for the ongoing disaster. To be witness to the disaster is painful.

I must. I smell the slow burning of the death or Eros.

Sad.

Not much can be said in the whirlwind of such hatred.

Sad captures and identifies a mind at war. The balance is leaning downward

Further every day and every day I try to offer conversation and light;

Every day I am a lone figure in a Hopper painting.

Failed. Smoking a non-filter Camel. Glass of Tulimore Dew in hand.

Lone. I must seek more deeply into my heart and soul.

I am witness to the disaster and I cannot “do” or “act”.

It is like being the camera in war.

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When The Third Book Was Opened


When The Third Book Opened
Yeah, I know, I know I am one of those,
Those upon their knees, crying, laughing,
Feeling vast. I like to feel vast. It’s cool,
I know the prayers will accept me,
Yet then small visions banging
On each side inside out my head,
They were not my own, and I asked to stop…
Then I knew I better not,
For something there is bigger than me.
God and confusion: each masters of my domain,
This room of books and song, of prayer,
Of labors I’d rather not do but they
Have needs beyond my own.
Telling me exactly what and why I am and I am not.
So I speak each vision into my iPhone…yeah,
This ridiculous new age that ate my pens
And took away typing when I felt the visions
Rise again, and so I had to wait to listen
To my skin, to the air around me,
To the asteroid shower gleaming above her
On a grass hillside above Jenner and the river,
Above the Pacific where they shot and left trails
And it looked like suns birthing around her head,
That blond mystery, I am afraid of them,
I am afraid my soul will be eaten alive
Before I can say my last Holy Father,
My last Hail Mary when each breath
Was that heavenly inhale exhale
Within one another, it was all I wanted.
Then I saw the hillside collapse,
And there was nothing but she above me
Blond hair like a forest of soft thin grasses,
And I saw an angel, my angel,
Lay her hand upon a page I could never read,
And I wanted, I desired, I knew I could not,
So into another night I drew constellations
Of song upon this high ceiling, the sky,
Through this air, or was it sandalwood scented hair?
All I hear is this knocking, demanding,
Every life stands upon my own, Humility,
You angry creature, you have kept me bent
Over all my life even standing tall I was still beneath you,
You, dear God, You; I am just a man,
Doing my thing disappearing into another sunrise,
Saying YES, I hear you to each tap on my mind,
And yes, I write her beauty as you tell me,
I walk alone and sing. Then we along the coastline
And take her hand, watch another star shower
And admit that things are not always what they seem.

Poems in Rage and Love with Crazed Sounds Pushing Beyond My Beyond


Do not turn up too loud. Be careful. This goes from gentle to classic earsplittiinloudenbangin one note to the next and if you have heard live Tibetan Bowls you know that they can be taken to the lowest low to a shrill thought impossible, well it is not impossible.

I had a blast recording this. It has a few of my most published poems two I think are personal masterpieces. Can you tell? Probably not. But that is not why I made this recording. I wanted to go beyond even my most experimental capabilities with live instruments. I did. So I Om’d and Namo Abitabha’d a bit just to settle the back heart into motion before an ear explosion happens. Or maybe it is not as risky as I think. Who knows? I don’t. If I did it would sound completely different and that is not why I did it this way.

Stupid background noise had me trash the first 24-28 minute version. So there is some aggression going on. We all need a little aggression.

This is not an easy piece. I would in fact call it about as experimental as I have gotten which is to say Beware Crazed Sounds Ahead. So enter at your own risk. I just wanted to go beyond anything I’ve heard and it may be because it is simply awful or that it just needs work while still being something unheard. I don’t know. Stupid background noise had me trash the first recording so this version has a bit of venom to it. Better to burn on the wing than stooped upon a ladder with some Moloch prince in a three piece suit…

Peace, Lord


Please Lord, lead me by your Love l that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that i may express your will in this this world
Please Lord, Lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your willi in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world
Please Lord, lead me by your Love that I may express your will in this world

Personal prayer that God may lead me along the many paths that I may learn through wisdom, led by his eternal Love, wisdom that my words express will, obedience and active Love in both will and action upon the world around. We should all pray or meditate for the wisdom of Love, for the power of the Will against the many evils that have always lived upon this world. We will never be rid of the asshats who live to steal, cajole, try to trick, play upon good nature and think they have accomplished something. But all they have done is open another door to the probability of an eternal soul locked in silence where it may only lie to itself and the ever molding walls enclosing damned souls. ATT, yes, I have the desire for battle and vengeance was in Psalms as the author begged, prayed God protect and strike down his enemies. ATT needs to go first, then we take the 3 levels of government come November. The Vote is your armor, your weapon, your shield, and if you do not vote or vote to the will of the Great Deceiver then you have struck another blow against America. Please leave. Find a nation that adores at your feet those who hate our democratic republic, those in office who think there are “too many words”, who if they act sane for a day we all get excited. What fools. We have become nothing but fools in the wave of ignorance that flows along the winds farted up from hell, from Mar A Lago, from the tunnels of lies and deception that plague and divide our nation. Do not give in. Lead by God’s Love that we may all express His will in this world. If you do not pray, fine; then ACT. We have been played for fools. Who will stand for Our Land?

Song Above Demon Lake In Milarepa’s Cave (revised)


Meditation Song Above the Cave of Milarepa
A darkness rises upon your soul. There are many paths
A darkness rises upon your soul. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
The first with rotted scalp and beautiful face says his
prayers and meditations are folly.
The first with rotted mind and fallen face says his prayers
are all wasted and drawn from lies.
The first with love for the Great Deceiver tells me my prayers
could be turned to ways of disordered mind and deceit.
I say no. Leave me or listen. You have the choice.
Listen.
Demon flesh is not sexuality. It is destruction of self.
God gives us compassion I say. I can only wish they find the
path that leads to God and frees them from this demon flesh.
God gives us compassion I say. I can only wish they find the
path that leads to God and frees them from this demon flesh.
God gives me compassion I say. I can only wish you find the
path that leads to God and frees you from this demon flesh.
Love, I say. When is it not enough? We must Love.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
Choice. We are given Love. But evil rules our land.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
Evil fucking evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
I know who lies.
I know who lies. What names you choose is up to you.
I know who lies. Our dharma is our choice we build upon.
I know who lies. All that is solid melts. I pray my eternal soul
melts and flows endlessly flowing in and out of Life’s plan.
I know who lies.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul and only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soil, only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul, only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
In all ahr’ oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
It does.
It does matter.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
She worships deception and a larceny of faith.
He worships deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
They worship deception and a larceny of faith.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
I know. I must repeat. I must chant.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know, I, it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know you. I repeat because I see you.
I was you. I destroyed that “I”.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
I know your lies. They are known. Leave me dark spirits.
Many paths. One God. Shut up you gossips and fools!
Giving over to the home of Siddhartha, hammered singing bowls of seven holy metals that ring then vibrate me in to sleep and Awake!
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible to love my friends and family.
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible to love my friends and family.
I sleep on the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, to love God who
makes it possible we love friends and family.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
I see the growing thunderheads, heat lightening striking.
Oh, I stretch because I see so much beauty, so to love,
so to thwart the minds who think to fight for life is sadness,
but that is to have it wrong, so terribly wrong, we live to live,
to strike back demon Mara’s devils and those gone to fight
old strong and holy wheel of fire spinning Ezekiel;
for beauty is daily and daily reward we live as grace as eternal.
To strike back Mara’s grinning evil and risen dark angels, do it!
New paths for beauty and skies seen like ocean tides as wind.
Each path begins from suffering and evil, and each path ends
when skies are sky and beauty becomes us; not as struggle
but as gift, each path begins where Life has suffered, yet pure
heart and pure intention is not enough to paint sunsets orange.
Never stop, always never ever stop, for if we do then it has ended, with ends come dreams of was, when what we need are times of is and then the works of yet to be. I could say, to the glory of God I cannot help it, this I love. I beg, in your own wisdom to understand we must scare the demons away as Milarepa sang enchant the devils as Ezekiel fought that they die this very day . . . There’s a reason these stories exist and live.
And yeah, that’s it . . . yeah, that’s it.
(and this crew for conversations with my beloved friends, Carter Gilles, Aaron Wegelin, Jarad Blanton, Don Chambers, my sister Lynn Buckhalt, the table I dream of as last meal and conversation because you all inspire me. My dream of life and our own last supper those I want to have debates and discussions, poetry and beauty

A Chant (all speech is confession)


And Most of My Loves Turn and Run
I Say Please Stay It is my Life that Loves
I Cannot Help It, This Compassion

A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths
A darkness upon your soul rises. There are many paths.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
I meditate where the Lord places me and all evils return
to laugh at my trials.
The first with rotted scalp and beautiful face tells me my
prayers and meditations are folly.
The first with rotted mind and fallen face tells me my prayers
are wasted and drawn from lies.
The first with love for the Great Deceiver tells me my prayers
could be turned to ways of theft and deceit.
I say no. Leave me or listen. You have the choice.
Listen.
God gives me compassion I say. I can only wish you find the
path that leads to God and frees you from this demon flesh.
God gives me compassion I say. I can only wish you find the
path that leads to God and frees you from this demon flesh.
God gives me compassion I say. I can only wish you find the
path that leads to God and frees you from this demon flesh.
Love, I say. When is it not enough? We must Love.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who contemplate upon the Sacrifice.
God does not waste his love, he maintains and holds strong for
any who come to him, who pray and meditate upon the Sacrifice.
Choice. We are given Love.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
Evil dances across the land and the fallen worship hatred,
here stand the enemy and the will to love is yet even stronger.
I know who lies.
I know who lies. What names you choose is up to you.
I know who lies. Our dharma is our choice we build upon.
I know who lies. All that is solid melts. I pray my eternal soul
melts and flows endlessly flowing in and out of Life’s plan.
I know who lies.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul and only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul and only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
They dream on in phantasms of a dirt soul and only of ends,
never the continuation of action and reaction.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
In all our oceans and the streams that feed them life changes
and adapts, many die, as will we.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
I see the finite and hear their shallow heartbeats, thinking sin
and salvation does not apply to them.
It does.
It does matter.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
It does matter for all we do is wrapped in cause and effect.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
You worship deception and a larceny of faith.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
Thinking it a win to deceive those who offer trust, all you do
is dig deeper into coal mountains, death your lover.
I know. I must repeat. I must chant.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know it is easy to say anything at all and not believe a word.
I know you. I repeat because I see you.
I was you. I destroyed that “I”.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm .
Even as I pray and meditate you think new ways of harm.
I know your lies. They are known. Leave me dark spirits.
Many paths. One God. Shut up you gossips and fools!
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible I love my friends and family.
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible I love my friends and family.
I sleep upon the floor where I console and sing, feeling your
song vibrate through me, I love you my friends, I love God who
makes it possible I love my friends and family.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
Holiness shimmers through each ringing bowl as I stretch my
aging flesh across these thick, slow barley and bamboo mats.
I could say, to the glory of God and most of my Loves turn and run
I say please stay it is my life that Loves I cannot help it, this Compassion
I Love, I beg, in your own wisdom understand as I try to do so in return.

For Roscoe Holcomb, Vocals Banjo


Fifth poem for Mendocino Blues
This is about Roscoe Holcomb one of the most transcendental, high pitched, claw finger banjo and guitar players discovered by accident in the Kentucky hills. One of the most moving musicians found in those early years of the 60s when people were searching our mountains for singers and story tellers who connected us back to Scotland and Ireland to the folk songs older than folk.

Mendocino Blues


These are the first set of poems for a re-edited version with new poems, poems deleted and poems perfected. I hope you find something of the heart, the spirit in my poetry. It is alive.New recordings, edited and new poems out the life of Southern traveler, alone, searching out life in every avenue and spring, ocean side and old oak forests, redwood and ferns, lazy mountains, love on fire, the soul, life itself and what it is when the spirit rises

Love Song A.M.


In The Morning So Fair,
Towards My Love (w/classical guitar, osmanthus incense)
In the morning
you were fair
I felt towards you
this love
this day

(there’s a voice only version one as well

Screw it, nothing shared in a while, silence and me, and please for all spirit if you have hate to share then silence please. Sad people tend to think me mad, then read John Donne and say what is. I only want to share this love, gently, oddly only towards the angel of my sleep (share if you wish), really are not that many I feel close enough to to share beyond here but also that’s more work that the work,the art, the life of an artist singing good morning, that’s all. Sharing is a good thing. Please share. I fear raising the ire of too many again. I don’t mean like “screw it'” to you all here in lovely Word Press land. I have been in WP a long time and FINALLY more fearless poets and scammers are showing up It is heartening to read as many good and hopefully good poems as I have in the past month.  Peace and Art on my companions. In Arr I love you all.

Please share

oops, towards the save for timeline later or straight to delete, and it is cool, it really is, live John Donne, Waltlvi Whitman, Saint John Perse, Novalis, Stefan Georg, Ambrose Bierce, Richard Brautagen, Kazantzakis, Hesse, Shelly, Keats, Byron, Tom Robbins, Patti Smith, Sylvia Plath, writings of Milarepa, Jim Harrison. I will not name all because they are vainly skipped across a lake while most having read and felt maybe two poems but hey, it’s all who are what they are, I’ve been called mad/crazy/weird since I was nine so what does it mean to me today, just more of the same from people who don’t try to read or understand, much less open the buried box of pain, but do try and they just cannot see my heart beating when the words strike and hurt or give me power, come, wave the wand and climb some climb walls to say 3 words, or leap from a second story window afterwards, yes I am guilty of all. We who are touched upon the forehead at birth have no control but to do our very best to create Love in and as Art. Yes Jason Biggers, I write a lot but I am also a fan of your work, your bloodless big brother, so what does that say my beloved one?. I have stood for your work many times. And will stand again in the future, no matter what. I applaud your brave ventures and the process of becoming. I wish more did.

Chromebook Facebook hates me and just deleted all I wrote for the FIFTH damn them! So if you received repeats hI aate the machine not me, though I know many just enjoy the man hoohaaa.

Coyote, Today the Sun Itself Howled and Yipped


This is a piano and High Lonesome vocal from a poem titled Coyote. You can find the poem itself here in Word Press. One my most frequently published and noted poems, so no doubt it will bring derision and repulsion here as it is FB, or it may be liked, I really don’t know. I never know. I write and play in darkness, sleep through the day, the summer sun hurts, my green eyes burn, and the holy find me to be an animal, so: Coyote. The song style is High Lonesome so don’t be put off by the vocal style as it is a style, southern Appalachian. Seems it is becoming lost today. So, I try to do as many as I can in this form, that of being in the low hills, fog eating up the elms and pines, of walking down to the empty and even more lonesome town just past midnight……not a soul in site just me and the street lights downtown cowtown 1 a.m.