200 Years (Every Praise)


“The average age of the world’s greatest civilizations has been 200 years. These nations have progressed through this sequence: From bondage to spiritual faith; From spiritual faith to great courage; From courage to liberty; From liberty to abundance; From abundance to selfishness; From selfishness to apathy; From apathy to dependence; From dependence back into bondage.”-Alexander Fraser Tytler

(Every Praise)

Now oh Judea before what rides, a strain of white lightning across the Galilee sky. G_D of all your mercy before you I rise in every praise.

200 years of lies and scorn, against the better reasons we all are born, how will we rise to greet the day from years of nightmare, of nuclear decay. 200 years of crazy thoughts, anarchist dreams of the fiddler’s knot, of that purgatory that knows no end, a socialist dream, a socialist sin. Where are you when black shirts come, to deliver your daughters to prosecute your sons. Know it now, know it true when they come for the weakest, they come for you. Oh believer, oh my heart, know thy love when all this starts. Know thy faith, honest true, what is forever starts in you. 200 years a circle starts, look toward the future is it dark? Clap your hands is it still dark?

If I had a telescope, in that saw real time, I would train it skyward and look for the shine. I would send it forward through present gloom, 200 years beyond our ruin. What would I see, what would I know? Would we be mortal, or demons without a soul? Would we still dance, or move around, would we have ego’s or would we be a part of a collective sound? For the want of an answer then I pray, for the need of a vision I turn my back on this day. For an open conversation I kneel and I say “YOU are my G_D”. For an open conversation I kneel and I say “YOU are my G_D”.

200 years of going before the storm, finding you in lightning in a different form. Finding you in weakness when I cannot see there you are in all that I believe. Night birds calling before the end of time, plague and persecution from what we thought was kind. Not an ideology or personal belief there you are. Going forward now from way back then. 200 years backwards and 200 till then, you are light eternal, the better of sin, you are every praise. Now oh Judea before what rides, a strain of white lightning across the Galilee sky. G_D of all your mercy before you I rise in every praise.

200 years of what we are. Bowing in our terror of what we see afar, every cloud, every thought, every praise. Oh, my creator of thought and psalm, oh my creator of thought and dream, bring me to you where I can see. Where I can see. Every praise of thought from inside of me, past present future to the ides that be. 200 years that goes beyond me, let light be. Every revolution before the dawn, sing hallelujah our inward song, oh my little children that our yet to be. Sing every praise. Sing every praise.

(Every Praise)

“I said it in the darkness, as the change flew under head. G_D is not changing, and neither is he dead.” – 08.17.20 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

SI (Act 1)


“Out, out brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow.”- William Shakespeare

And brevity takes me flying, in everything I am not, a second in a lifetime that for SI was not I brought. Oh Lord have you not formed me like the eagle and the hawk, forever in this instant am I not. Forever in this instant am I not.

I found I was only a measurement of time, a sand in G_D’s eye, numbered by moments and found wanting. I died and rose again at the start of each day. Day after day, while the angels watched within my dreams, and begged to know if they could play. “While you are human, they whispered, let us play”. Undefined I flew across a lifetime age to age. Grace to grace, atom and nucleus, a speck in the seconds of the space age. A second or two of breath so high and then I was gray. And I said, “Oh G_D unto you I give all these days, a brilliance of light these instances, in which I am a flight of wind that mocks kings. Eyes and wings and blood finally dust in all things. For I am forgotten, I am remembered, salvation and iniquity, a human immortal born in my sin to finally rest in the exhalation of G_D’s sigh.

For in the second, the last breath, the instance when I am naked no longer shy. The SI, the doorway open from death to freedom before the wide open sky. I will praise G_D for the instance of quantum instances of assurance in my previous life, that let me know that I was SI, always an instant breathing, always SI. Your instance, your energy, a sum of answers why.

When I kissed, and kissed, my tongue wet against my lover, with her wide-open eyes.

An instance of a second as my two baby’s cry and cry.

A boy, a spirit, down on shaky knees, crying before a cross that is thirsty to give me needs.

A young man, an old man, both seeking to understand their greed, a moment in loneliness when a great eagle comes to feed.

Life in high country where no one but G_D knows my needs.

Oh, SI you are an action, an art of life and breath. That brings us from our screaming self, to a death upon our beds. A warrior’s sword in violence, a writer’s pen in peace. In the moment I have always known you, a lover in my psalm. A generator of spirit that cannot wait until I am done. You love me in a second, and then my breath is one. Only one and then my life is done.

And brevity takes me flying, in everything I am not, a second in a lifetime that for SI was not I brought. Oh Lord have you not formed me like the eagle and the hawk, forever in this instant am I not. Forever in this instant am I not. – 05.21.2020 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

 

 

 

 

The Other Wing (Passover 2017)


The spirit, that was one, spoke to me near my failings, one wing that of compassion, the other a crimson red! It was a dark angel, that rescued me!

And the daemon came, the one that balances the ancient of that one name!

And he told me to hide, that night from that dark angel’s game!

The last fire has signaled that it will not glow, and everyman in his dream, has gone so far below. Into that city, where the shadow of Giza lays, Egyptian kings, among fetid things, no souls, to lie in decay. History speaks of shadow lands that lie in will below, waiting for the paradigm of a shift in seed to know. So, it is a story now, I tell of the other wing, the unbending bow in a red tipped flow, that bowed when judgment came. Goshen lies in sediment, grazed in spirit by something came, that, that is, not a son, or a pascal lamb, but a G_D that is always, one, I am. A question now, a question, after all these years, to you as a people, and you in kind, will you bless me this day? And if this other wing of mine, that darkens its own course, would you come to realize that it’s part of light’s own force?

For I’m an open window, that shuts when it will, but my glass has two sides you see, and I always will. Not seen through a dark glass coarsely, what a silly thing. If you look to see in front of you my cloud is darkened teal, and when you turn in your desert, you’ll see compassion is real. My other wing it comes this night, dropping deadly from your own sight, and as you sleep, in the light, I’ll kill, that which would deny, my ancient will.

I am an ingrained tetragram, not an illusion, Eden’s fan, with two wings. I sigh, when you cry, my eye’s red rimmed, I hear you cry. A will of force, is part of me, and my letters fill a sapphire sea, for spoken existence is what you are to me. For every century, every year, from your own minutes, in addictive tears, I turn my wing, the one tipped red, I will fly, right over you in these darkened skies. Do not look to see me pass by.

The spirit, that was one, spoke to me near my failings, one wing that of compassion, the other a crimson red! It was a dark angel, that rescued me!

And the daemon came, the one that balances the ancient of that one name!

And he told me to hide, that night from that dark angel’s name! – 04.07.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל


The Primal Lord (Jakov’s Song)


And he said: ‘Let me go, for the day breaketh.’ And he said: ‘I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.’ Genesis 32:27

“I won’t let go”!

Here on Lookout Mountain, with Denver far below, it’s February, motionless month, still cold. Just enough winter left to break the soul’s seams, and I, which means the human me, don’t feel so bold. The silence from I-70 tells a story of the day, suspended in some strange glory, just like my hair, that wants to turn gray. I see stars rising, juxtaposed in bitter beams, they strike the whitewashed bones of William Cody, close to me where he lays. A scripture, a vision, some bloodletting, before I scream. If you in space created this mountain, all I ask is help me believe. A trace of action is all I’m thinking, a signal for you to find me.

“I won’t let go”!

Most would look for a redeemer to sooth. A fairy-tale prophet, that speaks to the good. A peaceful solution to hide all that’s bad. I take my shirt off, a sign of my cover, all that most would want, is less than you already gave me.

The Primal Lord can fly on down, join my battle, hold my ground. Give wild incantations in laws and letters that tell me why, and when that primeval light that’s dark spins eternal and turns to go. I will make you bless me, I will hold you still, you will be the primal energy, that knows how to fill. And when you finally find me, then the moon will stand forever, and then upon my fought for blessing I will kneel.

“I won’t let go”!

Here on Lookout Mountain, with roads and houses so far below, I stand in waiting, watching for a sign. When without warning, an utterance or sigh, my cold skin will feel something, a letter or a sign. I’ll look back out of habit, and see William Cody still has died. But when I turn there’s laughter, a ladder from the sky. The Primal Lord descending, his airborne wet clear eyes, and I will make you bless me, I will hold you still, you will be the primal energy that knows how to fill.

“I won’t let go”!

And when you finally find me, really, really find me. Then the moon will stand forever, and upon my fought for blessing I will kneel. – 02.07.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Rawah (The King)


“When the Almighty spreads out for your kingship therein, you will become as white as snow in darkness”.                                                                                                          Psalms 68:16

“I’m the king of my own land. Facing tempest of dust, I’ll fight until the end. Creatures of my dreams raise up and dance with me.  Now and forever, I’m your king”!              M83 – Outro

I went to Rawah to hike and seek, on the Kings land, in this new year it would be me. I climbed through the skies of the Kings country, to lose my soul, so much at stake. In January, it’s so cold you misplace belief, time flies before you know it, it’s too late. In the center of the forest is a frozen magic lake, I can see through it like glass, see all past sad mistakes. They line themselves up, as the wind begins to blow, I could freeze to death I know, so my sins they tell me so. Spinning like a broken angel, a frost covered diamond, no paved roads, still it’s the Kings highway.

Near the sacred symmetry of Medicine Bow, I look to see a glow, it’s just a story, you read I’m told. Could be mine, maybe yourself you know. So many opportunities, so many found mistakes, in these rocks and cervices, their real, but I’m a fake. The thunder up above is more than I can shake, it’s though the King has had it, I’m more than he can take.

And if the world should fall on me, up here where kings would sleep, so high in Rawah, in Wyoming. I ask one gift from G_D, whose company I’d like to keep. Would you return your spirit in me? A small thing, I ask oh my ever-crazy soul you can keep. For trespassing on the Kings land, as human as I can be, it’s frozen anyway, and means little to me.

And the Magen was there, in my frozen steps, the crown was there. And the spirit which takes breath in Rawah as it takes breath everywhere said take from me, take from these dragon mountains your life, for from creation these are your things. All things are your things, and of these things, you are their King. Now and forever you are their KING! – 1.10.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Night & Light Strings (Summer Snow)


(A tragic victory written in the key of life.)

Bet din she came in form free, a savage night symphony, and with me wayward, a song has she played. The night strings came to my door, from Sheol, by stanzas three divided by a score, a part of judgment, that half that forms the major of my name. My Adonai, in seams of darkness you have let me cry, still in your balance did I behold and become your name. I asked in dark, the night sky, it burned with stars, and some dirge did daemons their strings did they play. Perhaps a dangerous game, to play with such things, as with the verdict that rules one’s name. And as the years roll by, I can’t say or deny, that I wish the macabre it did not play.

(A wondrous catastrophe played in an immortal psalm.)

For the summer snow, it strikes a cold heated blow, such a paradox from G-D’s own spirit when now I pray. For is EL light or dark, is he in or out of this ark, this human body, that’s already in decay. I’m old and then I’m new, and in my spirit so confused, sometimes believing that fate owns me over, how Hashem would rule my day. But then again it seems, the darkness can sometimes gleam, with sudden stars, that can light my way. A composition made for strings, in night and light extremes, oh mortal mind, the change of seasons, makes faith your journey, like the universe as it spins in rings.

(A note to kingship uttered before my G_D)

Some notes came to play, they danced lightly my way, unexpected like snow on a summer day. They came not in light at days’ morn, but before darkness in judgments storms. A great awakening, in life’s simple, twisted way. I thought it true to form, the yin and yang of pitch perfect forms, the way it should be, the reason I was brought forward, in shadows was I born. But still you give me light, deliberately while songs they play my night, and mixed together, nothing matters, as my breath immortal, it disappears and takes flight.

(A sound of gratitude given before judgment and delight!)– 11.25.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

G_D is Wyoming

His name is in Wyoming, inscribed in rock near the great divide, and often you may pass it when I-80 bends by twice. Through time and winters soul storms, those places where innocence dies, there runs a great contender, your hurt will be love’s guide. For high above the valleys, where the dirt does fly, when the winds come screaming, like an ego that’s been denied. Lessons in Wyoming, bard wire were Shepard died, looking for some mercy, the wilderness is unkind. In land that takes its likeness, from a lunar sky, harsh and barren in places, an American Judea find. Look closer in Wyoming, look for names and rhyme, listen to the sound of mourning from an open sky. G_D is Wyoming, G_D is Wyoming.

There are no doors in Wyoming, at least that you can hide behind, no cover of a savior, I imagine you know, the kind, for here in Wyoming a good sin can be found, right here in all this open, where rock and sky abound, and mercy comes from such a name, pronounced without a sound, gliding from the Tetons, bringing compassion down. And on some nights when no moon comes, a rare occasion in places bare, a sea of spirits rise, empty hoods white and wise, and as companions they stare at the sky, and pray for what’s not seen, Adonai, mercy please, and then for few who know, unless you’ve traveled that high road in pain, then you see. G_D is Wyoming, G_D is Wyoming.

Medicine Bow Peak speaks lightning from the other side, telling those who hear it say, it’s time, all of nature is tied, to a pattern diagram, intersecting to the head, earthly kings and queens will never find, what’s in Wyoming. Would you bend and say, take my fears away, travel down I-80, under darkened skies, ask for the intersession of the hoods that rise. Seek the mercy there, coming through the wildest air, and then you too will find, such a great wonder of time. G_D is Wyoming, G_D is Wyoming. – 01.17.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Eagle Rock (55)

Move a little bit, and open up your door, come on outside with me, it’s just a little holiday to celebrate something, higher than our eyes can see. For up there really far on the Mummy Range, a trail twist and turns then it bows in pain, it introduces itself as my life and gain, for it is me, on my birthday it is me. Eagle Rock it lays like a woman spread, at thirteen o seventy elevations head, such a pretty site and its Hagues Peak, on my birthday where wings are formed, it is me. Come a little closer with your broken dreams, hike a little higher, with your shattered seams, know if I can do it, through all of my life, you can too, on Eagle Rock, turn around, let loose your arms and fly.

On my birthday brother you could see if I rhyme, tell a pretty story about this high mountain climb, but I’d just laugh and say it’s been all my life, nothing’s changed, I’m the creature of a habit of the G_D with no name. That brings me to a subject here on Eagle Rock, stretching my hands toward the summit of naught, sister let me breath in your ear a dream, I am free, in these seventy-two names, I see, you can too, just breathe. After all in all those circles, and those thoughts of blame, you been around this lonely mountain in a time of shame. Time to climb it with your teeth bared in a grin of flame, climb it high, to Eagle Rock.

From here above the timberline an eagle screams, I match it on my birthday, for all it means, I’m something born of Torah, while the whole world sings. Here on my day, the dead move away, for I am alive, on Eagle Rock. Come on dance with me, through the bare aspen lot, climb a rocky trail, breathe, be who you were told you’re not, here above the common traits of man, find your soul, on Eagle Rock.

Move a little bit, and open up your door, come on outside with me. It’s just a little holiday to celebrate something, higher than our eyes can see. I’m fifty-five years old, and I’m born in peace, here I am, come with me, on Eagle Rock, blessed be, on Eagle Rock. – 11.03.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Come do the Eagle Rock with me, it’s my birthday, I’m 55!!!!! – “Well I feel so free” J

Isaiah (Morning)

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

It seems to me that most of self looks to another, looks to see, if what description that blueprint of few, is all of what Facebook, makes it of you. It seems that we look, look real hard to find our description, of what we are. We look to another, one less than, to say we are better, much better than. It seems to me all of what we are, is not real world, that of the blood, that of the reason, that draws us true like G_d or the season, we are nothing through. Oh simple man, or woman in skirt, one who sewed it, that made it worth, do you not know, or have you not seen, that Adonai made you, made you to scream. Made you to laugh, formed you in mud, made you a vampire to suck only love. Better yourself, the one who don’t look, the one who bends better, and mirrors forsook. One of the harvest, cut from the rest, that could not rely on what social said is best.

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

It seems to me, that Lucretius formed a better truth, said that the Universe is centrally stood, said that your molecule, is human hood, made for the atom, made under sun, destiny fortune, better than sum. In all of future, gathered of past, right here before you, treasured at last. Do you not know, and have you not heard, you could fly stronger, better than if you lowered yourself into the herd. That lonely, lonely herd.

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

So better your something, better your grand, know that your interest lies in a plan, not that of others, those that don’t know, those who seek victim, when their life is low. Do you not know, and have you not heard, you are created better than earth, not to a worship, not to a sun, not to a thing, that’s shiny when done, well really not to sex when bodies grow old, but to a spirit, that’s mystery untold. It seems to me that most of self looks to another, looks to see, if what description that blueprint of few, is all of what Facebook, makes it of you. – 08.27.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

The Forgiveness מְחִילָה


Today is the day!

Together we come to seal the vault, hand in hand, a stroll through the desert to face the storm, and that sand that swirls and blows, lifeless shame that binds. It can no longer make us blind. The secret you see doesn’t matter, not the me or the you, for sorrow is not love, neither is loss or gain, for everything is in time, and all this stage belongs to G_D, and his compassion belongs to us. Who is a king, a rich woman, so beautiful and clean, a social justice warrior in Queens, a soldier of the Crips, when they have lost their future and rage? Where goes the deviant, the strong, the wise, and the tortured of ISIS, the new car we lust for, when emotion takes all, that has been stored. It could be when you think you’re seeking something, that something that is more, and you’re in the desert, your will so weak, your nothing, like you were, no more, you find forgiveness has come to your door.

Are you pagan, or brother, white witch that seeks a fire rite, Muslim, disciplined with pride? Do you cry for Jesus, striding in rose petals like a Sikh in the rain? Have you climbed great mountains, found your wilderness, is it your home? Are you cut deep, that tomb holding vampires that in your night, that eventide that last forever, rise from their cold, cold graves? It seems to me now, maybe we are not we at all, that what we learn to live without, makes us learn to live again. It could be when you think you’re seeking something, that something that is more, and you’re in the desert, your will so weak, your nothing, like you were, no more, you find forgiveness has come to your door.

Together we come to seal the vault, this spirit and I, and the desert has bloomed, the struggle for water, has never made me appreciate forgiveness more. And there is no longer you and I, joy or pride, there is missing a community of emotion, those shadows that contribute to uncertainty and a lack of grace. It could be when you think you’re seeking something, that something that is more, and you’re in the desert, your will so weak, your nothing, like you were, no more, you find forgiveness has come to your door. – 08.25.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל