Imagine, a word, that



describes something real.



imagine a poem



one consumes like a meal.



imagine you reading



this fruit I unpeel.



imagine an ocean



the color of teal.



blue waters of fish,



whales, dolphins, and seal.



imagine a friend who



knows just how you feel.



someone close, like a lover,



you touch their skin and its real.



imagine a four legged companion



following close at your heel.



Imagine a day full of sunshine



where everything's bright.



and the smiles on folks' faces



make their faces look right.



imagine the sound of kids' laughter



fills you with  wondrous delight.



imagine a world without war and



millions of people without fright.



imagine the war makers leaving



 no longer wanting to fight.



imagine no weapons of destruction



that would be a sight.



imagine the twinkling of stars



as they light up the night.



imagine being stress-free



not wound up and uptight.



imagine two arms covered with feathers



now step from that cliff and take flight.



imagine yourself floating along



like a child's paper kite.



imagine this poem is finished?



i must tell you, 'not quite'.



imagine seeing our planet



from such a great height.



imagine looking down on all of that beauty



if you can, it just might.



..



Imagine




 


c.2008

tinseltown

fairytales full of strangeness
from a childhood
float by in the night sky
framed by my window.
trailing her hand down this naked body
in the dark....
do i love you? yes i love you.
the memory still drifts
in the dimness of the room
i pleasantly call my mind
like some photograph awaiting purchase
at a souvenir stand.
am i an older man wanting a new story
no longer happy to stand looking
in the shadows,
sitting quietly in the shop awaiting
the tinkling of the bell on the door?
tired of waking to an erection
and a sky that is lighter than before
tasting that light in my mouth,
i wonder
what do i do next
with this place in time
that i call 'Now' .
 
c.2009

i seek the lion

once upon a time
there were lions
whose roar broke the whirling silence
carried by dry winds
and still air.
now their are only ghosts
of horses and men carved in stone
in the termite hollowed tombs of lost kings
where snakes and lizards sun their bellies
in the dry howling winds of daylight.
my heart
once a hunter in a chariot
with tall wheels,
resides now in ruins
worn and pitted by rains, wind, and dust,
in a small town far from the sea.
tourists ride through the town in
clay buses watching through their
clay bus windows, journeying to seek
hidden wisdom and secret pleasures
through city streets.
i watch from high places
behind closed eyes
as all this goes on,
revising and making necessary corrections.
everyone in the world is looking for something.
only i am seeking a lion
and not in the dim lamplight
that arises from the streets.
 
bluebuddah c.2009