Poet
Hieroglyphic
He thought of her
as an emblem
her impression
—hieroglyphic
drawn through the ancient
along a cliff in sanskrit
and painted upon a cave
with his soul
in which he gave.
For when he saw her
he could only scribble
until a word made sense,
an archaic expression
in an image of perfect tense
like the heart shaped crest
she thrust upon his chest.
For she was the prayer
in which he knew worship.
She held the wilderness
in which he lost himself
and in her nature
where he found his peace,
she was the poetry
in which he understood
what hope meant
and in her beauty
he saw something
no man had ever seen.
And they say
that it was she
who lit the love
that showed him the way.
BeLove © 2018
Strings Of You
Beneath a booming thunder
awoke the buried beast
from his sleepless slumber
all of life and it’s misfortune
has been put to bed
by the dream he fed
with an appetite for wonder
from the fear of blunder
he shall plunder.
With a conscious stream
his heart will no longer bleed
from the wound
of life’s stampede.
In the shortness of life
we must all sing together
even through the most turbulent weather
and awake with the wisdom
that touches each and every day,
between here and there
and a little bit of everywhere
you can find the meaning
while love fills the air.
What was written in the beginning
when this started to breathe
bubbling up from the darkness underneath
with mysterious ease.
The greater good
will rise above
while waiting with loyalty
and the battle will rage within
fighting with the fidelity of hospitality.
The spirit carries on
to fight the wear and tear
of a shadow casted
in the doubt
of what we all fear
day in and day out.
Together we float this eternal river
where a word slips into forever.
From his soul
you start to shiver
from the peace and quiet
is where it will always quiver.
It’s the heart in him
and the strings in you
that begs the day
for a creation new
with what it is
that may always
speak with truth
into the light in you.
BeLove © 2018
All That Is Supreme
Love could be
a flame
and I may be
the one to blame
for taking back
the right to claim
that things
are not the same.
But love
is more than a game
that involves
the exchange
of a name.
Love was
written in the refrain
by something
that had nothing
left to gain
in the way of shame.
Then came the sound
of a pouring rain
that washed away
the sadness and it’s stain
down an emotional drain
and broke
the contemptuous chain.
That is when this thing
called love
had to leave the dream
to write itself as real
and start it’s reign
as all that is supreme.
BeLove © 2017
For What They Mean
It is often
in our search
for something else
when we find
some meaning buried
in our own true self,
and though
I did look through
the eyes of you
I could not find
what the worth was
of such little value.
Then there it was
something I found
hidden behind
an antique bookshelf
buried below
the meaning of me
is the value
of what it is
I must leave for you.
In the place
of an empty space
I put down these words
for what they mean
you must search
within yourself
and no one else.
For what they mean
remains unseen
in the distance between
you and me.
For now, at last, and forever
It’s why I may
and what I must say
to plot the course
all the way
to forever ago
and go to work
on the american dream
Slow and steady
there she goes
with my foot down
on the outskirts of town
towards a glow
bright and lost
against the flow
with a thought
placed inside a poem
and the mystic
with which it sits
in the palm
of wisdom’s hand.
BeLove © 2017
Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to you and yours. 2018 is going to be a good one.
Forgotten
At the point
when my being
stopped to look
at who I was
something held me
back from where
I was to be
and there you had it
right where you wanted
this to be
tied to a tree
too impatient to see
what it felt like
being free.
But now’s the time
to take our chance
and learn the dance
of a different tune
One that moves
down the path
choreographed
by circumstance.
Your beauty
it sits in stillness
with an echo
that bounces around
throughout my mind
where it shall stay
until the end of time.
For today,
tomorrow,
and yesterday too
we all stand tall
and watch it all fall
back into a place
where it will always shine
in the void
of a forgotten time.
BeLove © 2017
So It Is
The storm she breaks
just to build back up
to where it all began.
Winter melts
so the sun can shine upon
your smile again
my old friend.
A page is ripped
just to be sewn
back together
with this sword
I call a pen.
Come fall beneath
the ink that bleeds
into the being of me.
As above
so it is
far below
in the meaning of those
that I have known.
Again the words
they start to flow
with the love
that slowly grows.
But first I must
bury the evil
in this old bag of bones
before the good
in you
brings me back home.
BeLove © 2017
Faded
I found your smile
lost in a file
a faded memory put away
for me to find on this rainy day
years have flown by
like a comet burning up
the midnight sky
has it been a decade
since we sat in summer’s shade
smitten with a memory
that we delicately set free
to find a place
in an empty space
as time writes it with contrast
it was always meant to last
enshrined in the past
somewhere butterflies mingle
while your soul starts to tingle.
BeLove © 2017
The Congress / “Killing Me Softly”
Pauper’s Parade
Wealth is not measured
By what you bury in a bank
Wealth is a treasure
Measured from within.
Life is a measure
That holds no rank.
It is not the truth
I’m trying to bend.
But the fountain of youth
I seek in the end.
My thoughts they march
To the beat
Of dancing feet.
Where ideas were always meant to thrive
In their isolation they come alive.
High above the shade of
A pauper’s parade.
But Old Jester, he turned a trick
He was somewhat slick
In a game he played
With his slight of hand
For the fool he planned
A simple quote
One in which he wrote
With charm and a schtick
Lest his imaginary sidekick.
Somewhere his secret sits patient
Where his words are no longer kept skeptic.
.
BeLove © 2017
Mondo Cozmo / “Shine”
Potter’s Field
I climbed the fence
to old man potter’s field
the fog hung low above the ground
while I looked all around
those eerily empty tombs
this is what I found
a certain headstone
void of a name
it held an inscription instead
’twas a bit of wisdom
written with a twist
and this is what it read:
“remember me, as you pass by,
as you are now, so once was I,
as I am now, you too shall be,
prepare for expiration and follow me.”
with a pen and paper in hand
I left a silly note
a small little anecdote:
“to follow you, I won’t consent,
for I do not know which way you went.”
BeLove © 2017
Barstool Buddha 