Dreaming The Old Man

Through slanting doors and broken windows
odd furniture in dim rooms

old books and roses rotting with age
I follow you,

charts and crumpled maps and paper
glitter like a lost hope–

Sudden sky and wide water
reeds along a shore

under a silver willow you call to the other side.

No limb or vine to hold my feet
my boyhood swept away

to a green recess of memory
nothing to pull me back

only rock and sand, sky and air bathed in amber light,

Peace, I am with you
looking in your old eyes, stretching out a hand

sinking in a river of night
transparent stones on the bottom of a lucid pool

I glide in bright shadows
fish swimming

in and out our one and separate selves

 

 

Green Lake Heron by Rob KasheyROB PICS 430

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Photos  by Rayn Roberts

Apparition by Rob Kashey

Apparition by RR

About The Dangers of Transgender People….

 

Why Transgender People are Dangerous

 

Nevermind the roller coaster ride
you’re on it now you can’t get off

It’s gravity’s got
a terrible side
got nothing to do
with God at all

God doesn’t really
give a toss

if you die next week from a stupid fall

God damn gravity
that evil threat

Gonna getcha right soon
gonna getcha  yet
Not too sure
why I stand at all
If I’m gonna get killed

by a natural law

“Hells bells, tarnation”, say I to my wife
“I’m takin’ to bed for the rest of my life!”

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I’m not white, not black, not brown or yellow
not rich or old, poor or dumb
but I do see things in a different way because

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Understanding the Transgender Community

A Dangerous Threat? Who is?

What is really Wrong: Violence Against & Murder of Transgender People.

Why Do We Need Science to Approve of Anyone Being Transgender?

The Problem Some Christians Have with Transgender People

Think Transgender People Themselves are in Danger? Well, yeah!

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Nosegay

What Chopin wanted most
was to die
in George Sand arms,
on his deathbed
all he got
Was a nosegay of violets
She left at his door
When her daughter
turned her away–
People can be such shits.

Nosegay

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He wrote a friend on his deathbed, “She promised me I would die in her arms.”

How did Chopin die?

George_Sand

Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin aka George Sand, Novelist.

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And yes, I’m aware that the event may be based on legend, but many believe it is true and by it’s very intensity, a legend becomes a painful little poem with a nasty but truthful conclusion.  It is justified by that truth.   “Art is not a study of positive reality, it is the seeking for ideal truth.”   ~George Sand

A Truth You May Have Forgotten

There is a moment before the sound the Great Om,
Before Siva turned on one foot
Before Krishna was blue and Tara green,
Before the making of Lucifer, the heavenly war
The gravity of heaven and the drifting fire of hell
Before the holy breath blew into Man
Before Adam’s dream of Eve
Before Cain lost his mind and the daughters of Cain
And the flood, before an angel spoke to Hagar
And Moses saw a home of honey, fire and blood

Before David hurled a stone
Before Isaiah spoke a word
Before Buddha under the Bodhi-tree

The slaughter of the innocent
The cry of the desert in a voice crying in the desert
Before the sorrow of Mary
Before a nail cut the hand of the Anointed
Before the wonder of Magdalene at the tomb
Before tongues of fire
Before the first stone struck Stephen
Before stigmata in Assisi
Before Allah save infant girls
In a message of mercy from Mohammed
Before Gandhi felt the heat of a gun
And the death of Martin gave an undying dream

There is a moment
Without motion
Before the memory of time

Offered like sunlight filtered through trees falls at your feet
It is like sound
Or light surrounding the body
A lilting melody of light
Before evil or good were ideas, that when you hear
Clears the past of pain
Reconciles history to love
And the One you felt did not exist
Is with you saying
“I have always loved you and always will.”
It is the still point at the center,
That moment you truly are, that moment is now

 

Duck

Be It as You Imagine

Wherever under the sky I walk
there’s something of you in the earth,
stone, sage, air, living river
and high as the hawk can fly
vapor, mist, rain you are,
sunlight moons give back to me.

Be sure, all I touch holds you.
Memories dream in the land
where the ancestor-spirits breathe
their souls imprinted on red rock
echo the secrets they told
in the hush of mountains we roam.

The vision they had of man
walking hand in hand in peace
walking like walking trees
in a land of corn and walking dreams
is a river of hope flowing from you
to me and back…
What lives in me is you,

Moon-glow, star-fire in turbulent dark
turning the wheel of my hidden heart.

 

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Sedona, Arizona, 1995

The Wave & The Wind

Rikuzentakata Ôfunato Kuji swept away

No trace they were ever there
Otsuchi Miyako Yamada
Sôma Namie Minamisôma Onagawa
Kesennuma Natori Ishinomaki gone,
The earth gave and the sea
Has taken away Banda Ache
Two hundred thirty thousand
Gone in the Indian Ocean wave.

I am thinking of Phuket on Boxing Day

The waters receding so fast
Fish were left on the sand flapping,
The boy drawn by hunger
Or a child’s fascination
Not knowing the danger
Walking out to catch a few
Then the immense water-wall moving
He turns, runs and is gone.

Some say the Lord taketh away

But where were healing Jesus
Allah the Merciful
When countless cries went up,
Where were the thousand hands
Of listening Kannon?
Were they in paradise, was she
Lost blissfully in a Pure Land where
Tsunami’s never happen,
Do the dead hear the whispered calls

On kaze-no-denwa, the wind phone?

 

Rayn Roberts 2017

Kaze no Denwa, The Wind Phone

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Things We Cannot Name

For JD

How long it took to know, however hard we wished
There was no return, no starting over for us –

With an ocean between I recall a day in California
The fire of summer inside
Cool blessing of water nearby
Our spirits falling to the clarity of desire and later

Waist-deep in mountain brook I lifted from the current
A king snake without fear:
Nothing could harm me then, doubt had no hold –

How a thing so good twists into something we kill
I cannot say, but if I doubt now
I doubt you like I do God
Who I cannot see, but remember from somewhere.

Perhaps there is no other reason for love
Than images wrecked by time
Memories richer than blood, miraculous ways
That lead to who we are: each of us a wilderness

A wildflower trail, and things without name that linger:
The mysterious scent of the golden violet … California.

 

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Rayn Roberts