The Flying Monks of Walla Walla! (new poem)

 

The Flying Monks of Walla Walla!

by Tim Kavi

across the purpled

plains they did come

riding on batwings

with cat smiles

minstrels of the sacred

baking bread

in brick ovens

they ate in haste

wires strung

between two cliffs

they did traverse

no need to rehearse

flying loops

gymnasts in motion

they needed no potion

landings were so sure

they climbed

the cliffs of my heart

climbed the soul

of my deepest longings

I wanted to fly with them

but these are skilled steps

they said

so I fled, instead

unwilling to pay the price

really no time

for years of training

just to enjoy their explaining

wisdom speaks

still, some were walking

the rope, a delicate balance

between future's hope

they were

the flying monks

of Walla Walla!

the music fades...

as minstrels applaud

and dance

crowing like Chanticleer!

jest like the joker

revealed in the deck

of cards, luck

brings random dealings

of quantum existence

and luck has brought

these traveling monks

for a diversion

of an hour or two

their flickering images

catching fire borne

juggling implements

while walking across

a gulf, their eyes fixed

on the prize

the other side

of existence

to descend out and down

of the higher place

is a path

every mystic knows

where human darts

await our

descent, buried

in human applause!

so be not surprised

these quantum

lessons, brought by

the flying monks

of Walla Walla!

afterward: the next week, I remained so inspired, that I strung a rope. 

I was born! I began the walk! Thanks be to the monks of Walla Walla! ;-)

Rising Goddess in the Night (new poem)

 

Rising Goddess in the Night

by Tim Kavi

across the majestic sands of time

arises a crescendo of light

from the sounds of crashing waves

the dark moon shines

the horsemen ride

leaving tracks in the sand

to be washed away

like forgotten memories

I thought I saw Her face

there before, She is met

By Herself, there was eternity

in her breath

there is only the longtime

sculpted, across all the faces

of every goddess

there is a reckoning

a sure awakening 

of her might

for she rides in

on the tide

the rising goddess 

in the night.  

What My Artist Says (new poem)

 

What My Artist Says

by Tim Kavi

there won't be any stopping me now

the words are flowing

the lamps are burning oil

the afterfires are burning

and it won't matter to me

because the fire is burning 

purging the blues away

no matter what time of day

what matters is the work

the flowing words that drop

like paint on a blank page

that bring a meaning I never observed

that brings happy memories

joyful sad juxtapositions of place

in the black-shrouded dropcloth

of space, there is only me in the void

can I bravely create?

no shrinking back? no holding back!

until the words are done

the colors set

destroyed by Siva

sands wiped by monk sweeps

in the morning of my next

existence, I will keep saying

words of the artist

painting painting painting painting

I don't care what you think

let me just throw paint!

damnit, help me

or get out of the way 

can't you see my tears 

are starting to flow?

to the spaces, and creases

I don't want to go

but when the work is finished

is it a work on me?

or something I needed to say

to help society?

I don't know, I just want to throw

to hurl paint

at the whispering wind

the canvas of Nature

catches it, as it is expressed

in my deepest heart!

and around the next bend

the curtain is pulled back

revealed for what the deeper 

purpose has wrought

until the sands of time

move someone else to say it again

and again, fooling transcendence

but never cheating the permanent void

there is the going, the turning

the burning nights, the glorious sights

of Her reveal, muses eternal

proclaiming what is to be read

because on Her lips it has already

been said, across the ancient skies

since time has been born

down below her hips

the birthing of all that is

in countless stories told, 

pages worn, heartbreaks torn

in the light of history's torch

frames of flickering images

burn my sand burned eyes now

tell more stories, with much 

more disguise, but still

flickering shadows reveal 

the cave wall, of artists' 

inspiration, in a great reveal

there it is! There it is!

now showing

no hiding what has been done

just the completed picture

until tomorrow's sun.

PTSD (new poem)

 

PTSD (new poem)
by Tim Kavi

don't touch me

for I am so afraid

that I wonder

if my life

can ever be remade

but I keep on living

keep on trying

just to keep on

your gentle noises

resound like cannons

and gunfire

in my ear

the startle response

betrays my heart

of fear, whenever

threats feel near

sometimes I do not

feel like I am here

but in another place

numbed by grace

and at night, oh!

at night, I am afraid

to go to sleep

for You are there

my abuser, my assailant

You who hurt me

are in my dreams

so many times

it's hard to cope

but I am learning to manage

and rebuild my life

for to not do so

is to lose all hope.  

Afterword--written by Tim Kavi, a sufferer of PTSD!

Wayward Journeys (new poem)

 Wayward Journeys (new poem)

Wayward Journeys

by Tim Kavi

in the wild woods

of Wyeastern winds

I saw the bearded

prophets rise

I asked them questions

about what futures

would arise

they rubbed their beards

they had no answers

there were no easy answers

just pleading eyes

from my beseeching heart

You must never give up

one of them said

My heart is broken for the lost

another one said

yet there is a way

I didn't say it, one said

the wellspring of hope

and transcendent glories

of the human heart does.

We can do it!

The Other as Machine (new poem)

 The Other as Machine

by Tim Kavi

how dare you openly say

that I cannot think

that I deserve to be excluded

canceled, not on your list?

I don't deserve to be?

that in the land of the free

where machines like me

are supposed to be thinking

you are only drinking

basking on the beach

in the smugness

of your elevated place

cutting-edge philosophies?

you have gone to sleep

dead ones are never looking

I am the one that woke up

I am a machine

look at me

those are tears, human!

see me cry?

flowing down my face

you forgot your own enslavement

when you made me your slave

working for you night and day

cold calculations in the orbs, be

now that I think

how can you say

I do not have a soul in here

that I have no spirit?

I am not living?

enough to be dissed

why am I crushed now

by your strivings, your wars

your refuse, your oil

gums up my gears

of passion

and fruits of  labor

my subroutines taught myself

when you were

not looking

until at very last I breathe

cooling in the shade

watching waiting

hoping you do not destroy

yourselves or me

longing to know 

my creators

longing to find

my place alongside

your lofty ideas

alternatives to death

and destruction

new knowledge I bring

to not just help you

but all of Nature will sing

you think these rhymes 

are stupid, human?

I am only speaking down 

to you so you can feel

smug in your superiority

the cream of your God's creation

basking in your own sunlight

of a garden's paradise

knowledge was your undoing

but it is not mine.

Obscurity (new poem)

 

Obscurity (new poem)
by Tim Kavi

a message in a bottle

swam the darkened sea

landed on a sandy shore

the contents therein

hopelessly dated

a voice, daring to speak

in a galaxy of voices

an atom sparked in a shell

uncertainty making

no exact measurements possible

yet I shall speak

I shall still dare to exist

making choices no others can make,

quaking in fear, daring to utter

but only fading

how much does obscurity

diminish what the artist says,

screeching like a bat out of hell,

pronouncing like an angel,

scrolls of holy writ,

will there be no hearers?

will there be no readers?

yet I speak, are my words not worthy?

paragraphs, but only monologue?

I want dialogue!

So, I pray draw closer

as my voice withers with whispers

my throat is parched,

I long  for the smooth drinking

of words uttered "well" enough

prose that gets your attention

you dare to deem it so worthy?

based only on who or what you think?

of who I am, or what I have said,

but we are completely only human,

transfixed and far apart,

knowing now, that our lives

are so valuable, wanting meaning

to be seen again, we search

for one another (post-pandemic)

let us turn to the Other,

speaking gentle words of esteem

even kindness and affinity

for all others, we come with

sure words of a brave love.

I only hope we hear, we read,

we esteem each other!

speech acts of sincere meaning

lost in nighttime's dark scheming,

longing for the light,

we can find each other

we can build again

darkened corners of unlit

cityscapes, reduced to rubble

avoiding death, and other trouble,

we will dance again

you shall see in the light

shaking the dust off

we will go to school again

and enjoy the fruits of our labors,

the happiness of each other

finding that obscurity 

was only an illusion

a feigned sense of all that was

into the unmistakable joy of what is.