Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted June 7, 2016


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Poetry Potlatch Practice-Walt Whitman Style

The Story of My Thoughts Spilling

by michaelcahill





 
The Story of My Thoughts Spilling
                                                              by michael cahill



 
 
Zebra Scenario
        The Wonders of Nature:




the veldt steams with life
and it centers around
the watering hole
the soul
of existence
the tall grass sends fingers deep into the dry
earth stroking it for moisture
zebras’ breath forms warm fog
concealing their constant consumption
of the tender blades

one of their own
is vanquished before a lion
stretched out completely

the lion consumes it randomly
paying no mind to the audience
observing nervously from the corners
of their eyes

feeding relentlessly
is all that matters
and the power to do so
is satisfying
 



Zebra Scenario
        Laboratory Analysis



 
 photo brainanzylyddd33333333_zpscwui8ub1.jpg



a straight line curves in
the vastness of space
zebras lined up
eating grass
a lion in the middle
feeds on a prone zebra
like
a pianist playing
a beginners’ piece
a line that bends
is curved
 





my journey
        my brain explains
 


 
 photo brainexplains4444444_zpsfnkelphc.jpg





life must be lived
asked for or not
that is the premise
suicidal free will
hides within at war with love
awaiting a manifestation’s allure
when it is already manifest
 
an earthquake forms a mountain
oh?
from nothing?
no
it exposed the mountain
already there
concealed
 
I stand still observing a meadow
I make no sound
 
beneath the meadow of riotous colour
                and serene horizon seeking serenity
earth is filled with hungry roots
in desperate search
indifferent shelves hold
the above components
                and stroll at a leisurely pace
neither containing or concerned with
a churning sea
of molten confined energy
yearning to be free
 
I see a girl and approach her
lava sees a fissure and erupts
what is within is always key



Meaning Explored
            It Isn't A Legacy


 
 photo godimagesabstract3_zpsrrh3qfqw.jpg


 
surely life is not God
God being whatever one wishes
to define it, him, her … as
 
life is delicate
like
the cross word
or sideways glance
that triggers pride
and destroys love
 
surely an entity with a component
so pathetic
is not the all powerful
all knowing
surely not
 
the true myth is
          building
we build
a home
a border
a legacy
 
yet
 
nothing remains
it is the nature of things
to become nothing
a home
to a former home
                one way or another
a border shifts
    by our own devices
    or by the whim of elements

oh, the Pangeans still bemoan
the falling out from those giddy days
legacy?



 
 photo pangeae3333_zpsshqajj7m.jpg



eight or nine billion people have lived
name them ….
 
true, not fair
look them up and fax me a list
 
… a little short of the mark
 




I Just Remembered
        Then I Forgot




 
 photo lifedeathdance444_zpsouyp6fs8.jpg


 



living and dying seem to dance apart
always aware of each other
always at odds
or so they say
but one is truly drawn to the other
and without doubt
they will succumb
to their compulsion
              to bond

but in so doing
the dance never begins
it ends without having
joined for a step
 
but living can cut a rug
at times
when the right person comes along
 
but to some it’s a matter of a bow
and an extended hand
not a dance to be seen
 
well, is the dance
the meaning then
 
when it is done
and the embrace ends it
then what?
religion?

I choose faith ...
Love requires it
 




All That Aside
        It’s Poetry
 

 
 photo blackhairedwoman8888888_zpsquyu47fe.jpg





would it be real if I were real
but how can I be
if you
are not
to be to you
you see?

so, I cease to be
for I’ve no
clear road away
it vanished
in the truth of who you are
and what it means to me
to see within the answer
even though I never asked
            I did not have to

this path
this destined dream
it seems I’m drawn to
will be dreamed by me and me
alone

and still for you
I wish a dream to call your own
for that is truth if I am true
in what I’ve known
from that first look
at you and then inside of me

oh yes
for ill or good
you are my
destiny

justice is poetic
when it is just
so is love
 




The Journey
        Comes Full Circle

 


 
 photo zebraliontogether444_zpsfw1meqdo.jpg






is there a chance a zebra ever reasoned with a lion
appealed to some vestigial part of an amphibias
remnant drug out of a primordial soup
just in case the future ever became a topic for debate
 
would there even be that pause before instinct
sharpened teeth sought the plucking of sinew
as the minuet of feeding commenced on the downbeat
while an invisible conductor arranged for a cloud
to cry an inconsequential tear
 
really it was cheap the first time a blotch of red
was applied to a black and white artwork
to draw the eye
of course it was drawn
both pulled in and rendered
no surprise
it wasn’t clever then, it isn’t clever now
 
clever is a zebra and a lion playing go fish
and frying potatoes
while discussing the anatomy of a wildebeest
who feasts on the long slender grass
by the watering hole
the grass fills the stomach says the lion
the zebra learns of carnivorous feeding
 
the watering hole is still
and streaked pink
a wildebeest
that was
is left for the hungry to enjoy
 
a lion full of meat and
a zebra full of grass
lie by the still waters
and life
goes on




 
 photo wateringhole3_zpssz1n0eux.jpg












 


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May I direct you to the classic view? Highly recommended. Click on the title and be whisked away to days of yore. The Story of My Thoughts Spilling Remember, just click on the title.

Not so sure this is Mr. Whitman's influence of just an excuse to be more me than I usually dare to be. Maybe or hopefully both.
In any case, I doubt anyone will like this, but I do. LOL

Sooooo, Is this Walt-like or just mikey blathering?

Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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