El Diente (Follow) 1990

El

For your ways are a different way, your voice so small, it sends me in, and I follow.

A place ahead, where heavens bent, above the clouds, where air is spent, I bend my brow, I cannot speak, for I’m alone, with my bare feet, on holy ground in simplicity, and I follow. Mountain range that meets G-d’s eye, am I awake or did I die, for vaults and doors are here for us to enter in and seek a trust, a two-way street, a two-way love, for G-d is here and I’m in love, and I follow.

El Diente, a raptured art, wrapped so high, an ark a path, and while I climb, I follow. For your ways are a different way, your voice so small, it sends me in. And there the wind, it speaks to me, high upon this mountain peak, tearing me, till I can’t see, yet still you want of me, and I follow, in disbelief I follow.

I’d like to say you hold me still, bind creation in my heart, but here just now, we are so far apart, like plants and stone, we cannot meet. Yet when I break, when I bleed, like here on this lifted place, I look and you say jump, and I will follow. And I will fall a thousand feet, rest my will at your need, and when I look you are high and lifted up, like always on this mountain peak, which you created and still you say follow, and I will follow.

El Diente’s trail makes me weep, when it’s winter, it plays my feet like a violin a string of glass, and yet I follow, where this way would have me go. If words could help, I’d sing them now, to the crest, the place of infinity, where G_D would turn to me and say follow. And I will breath here in this place forever, so high in your grace, free to follow.

For your ways are a different way, your voice so small, it sends me in, and I follow.

El Diente peak is a summit in the San Miguel Mountains of Colorado. It stands 14,165 feet above sea level, and to climb it in winter reveals an inner faith that demands one follow. – 03.19.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


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

Games Someone Plays (Isaiah’s Chorus)


Wonderful, that tip of your mind, that part the rebel blind, thinking you can change the world, watching leftist dance in swirls. Do you not know, that change is a constant see, what you deem change for some, will be your frivolity. For indeed time is change, prepare yourself to see a new way, for all your cultural wars, will end up at your door. That hooded monk, the one with thesis that he wrote when he was drunk. Those points of liberation, come down to libation, he and all those since, those before with weapons spent, they change the world they say, oh nothing little rebel changes anyway. Blame the one you hate, you’re not full of love when you forsake, that one with which you disagree, they’re not so stupid, you’re the one who can’t see. This world has a day, war, creation all the same its foundation stoked in games someone plays.

Time immortal rolls, you think you bring the change when bells toll, those aren’t chimes you see, that is time laughing in glee. If you’re the left of sight, do you really think it’s, your eternal berth to change the world, to take from creations breath, and make things right. All is time you see, fallen before infinity, and rationale is rife, with faulty virtue, that, can collapse before destiny’s sight.

Oh little elitist games, those times at the Hamptons planning everyone’s day, those runs to Hollywood, to get your fine attention from those already ruined. This world has a day, war, creation all the same its foundation stoked in games someone plays.

Why trust the tongue, it utters nonsense at every sum, it turns the night to day, when only G_D can let breathe stay. Man will issue change, the nobody rules the honored of this day.

Constant in this day, change is meant for men who play, oh persistent when he stays, a lover, spirit, that does not change anyway, and still your blessing wanted, your magic summoned, your body wanton, before all encompassed, change is issued stay. This world has a day, war, creation all the same its foundation stoked in games someone plays.

Bloodstains, washed away, spirit by cloud fire by night, it stays. A shelter for the ones betrayed, a bosom for the ones who have been betrayed, a garden constant for the slaves of change. A world be known where there is no change, a constant tone where all can play, won’t you hang up your weapon and come play. – 02.17.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל