Marriage


After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.” – Mark Twain

Our marriage is like a shelter.

Our marriage is as Don Quixote heaped with scorn.

Our marriage is like a great man o’ war with sails unfurled.

Our marriage is as “Allegri Miserere” performed at 3:00 A.M.

Our marriage is abstract before concept, a dismissed preposition, built upon an article of fact.

Our marriage is like a shelter. Our marriage is like a shelter.

There is a falling angel with eyes like glass, bringing fire for our journey to the world we cast. For we float on many waters of times to come, and we search each other’s motives with an iron rung. For we are one, under this shelter, we are one.

I wake, eyes wide, from smoky dreams, of tattered wings falling from beams. I wake in morning of the year’s just past, I harbor that vision of yesterday, dwelling my eyes, upwards while kneeling as to pray. What there does fall, and consume rare air, fall at fifteen past two before the altar stair. Just the years before, before my words “I shall”. How it warmed my face with a bit of touch, then brushed right past me to a bridal veil.

Those years before, when I looked up high in a sanctuary and saw no sky. Imperceptible in quiet, below, rafters’ brown in tongue and groove, flew a rarer angel who with burning glass eyes flew. Came a lustrous fire upon the gentle head, swaying to my side, such a beautiful head. In all those words strung by to and fro, a lighter rhyme off our tongues they flow. Written by earth bound hands and spoke with ease, now they mark my soul a façade I see. Now in this morning of the years just past. Something in those rafters reaching so fast.

For it seems the years before brought something new. Not the voices inside, the ones I always knew. But a visual aspiration, from a king’s held cup. A curse or a blessing, but it is always enough. A premonition that would lose its way floating through the years of marriage until it was almost decayed. Once or twice to rise, when forgotten enough, just a kind reminder, of the host with wings above. To speak clear words in the dust and binge, when the modern worlds about us, and we cannot remember why or when. The shelter of sorrow, with hands held close, our entwined fingers tighter than if they were sewn. And if I look just up above, toward the ethereal of heaven, where most see a dove. For I see a raven with fire in its beak headed towards kingdoms for those we yet seek. What comes to me just as that first day, when I said, “I shall”, and two in one we came away.

There is a falling angel with eyes like glass, bringing fire for our journey to the world we cast. For we float on many waters of times to come, and we search each other’s motives with an iron rung. For we are one, under this shelter, we are one.

Our marriage is like a shelter. Our marriage is like a shelter.

For Susan who has put up with me for 26 years under the glassy eyes of the angel. – 03.13.2019 – דָנִיֵּאל

At 25 (Seraphim)


“We are old flames”, she laughs, her green eyes shining, sending signals to a part of me that has thoughts for later. “You mean like old lover’s I say”, knowing somehow, she is headed in a different direction, but not certain where. “No”, she smiles, and suddenly looks thoughtful, “we were much more”, “probably glowing darkness”, she continues, “intertwined, cobalt blue, flames falling from the heavens, aliens to this earth, we are the seraphim”!

What thought is this that touches breathe, from sub realm worlds our net is cast, to bring us warmth before this day, to bind our hearts to what G_D would say. We walk as one, we fight as two, and we make our bonds, of rougher hew. To know our hearts of what should be, but Lord Let us not strip our identity. For years go by, grant this we pray, when we are hard, our souls so gray, bring us to dreams, and let us be free, and bring us to make our myth reality.

When we were young, much younger still, we lived so hard, with tragic skill. We sought to make what we could not build, and so we stopped while time stood still. From eye to eye, our rage contained, we entered a cave of pain, but still something that was a dream, helped us go on. With love achieved a root deep song. What thought is this, we gave to love; we christened babes with skies above. Gave we them spells upon their lives, said we your blessed, by stars above. For beauty came into their own hearts, my wife my love, how did we start. To know ourselves through what life brought, the lines of time have been our sparks.

What old ways come, to bruise us through, what future kingdom, do we hew, upon our love nobility, rest spirit of our fallibility. For on and on we strike the stone until, the house rest, solid home. To rest in arms not built just flesh, but ideas of G_D built on happiness. The angel turns she is in you, the seraphim mystery, flames of flesh, the girl grown strong, by challenge till death. I parse my thoughts, and I turn too, I bring my seraphim in line with you. For we our strong, much stronger two, unto this day we cast our view, and single out where we go now, all time is ours to say just how.

What thought is this that touches flame, from sub realm worlds our net is cast to bring us warmth before this day, to bind our hearts to what G_D would say. This shore, this shore is our land too, this mountain that would block we cut in two, for unto us is joined a charm, built long ago by G_D’s own arm. Beyond, beyond an octave blue, we shimmer, move in angel blue, at twenty-five and one more too, my heart, my love, I still ask for you.

Twenty-five years ago, this day I married a Seraphim! – – 03.06.2018 – דָּנִיאֵל


Summer of 92 (Your Song)


We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you.

I knew you five months when I asked you in song, in rhyme my head bent, I asked you so strong, a quiet little melody a quiet little song, will you please now marry me, I know we’ll last long. Oh words in wet summer, our beach and our sand, our quiet little Camelot where we dreamed we would stand, and babies and caravans of spices for good, we would be forever, just as we should. Oh Susan my mistress, my wife and my life, that summer I knew you would be all my life, and on we would journey our hands so entwined, my classic enchantment my spell in my life. For you there are gathered outside where I stand, a world and a future, the best in my plan. That Florida sweet sunset, the heat filled the sand, a strange horizon of mountains just ahead, we’d scale them like Everest, and climb them with tears, for real was our tragedies, so telling our fears. No life of illusion, no answers so clear.

But just as so promised, and so well planned, from here we hear music that song in our ears, your song, in the highland I’ll take you there when I can.

That September majic, I fashioned a song, of green eyes in summer and dreams of year long, and brought myself down from a height I’d placed there, to play you an overture of pleasure to bare, and there we stood then, as we do stand now. Two shadows forever, entwined with our vows. My knees felt so bruised from kneeling as a knight, for you my Guinevere, for you my wife.

I thought I a rich man, for what I had with you, for a poor man with love, knows better of what’s better then new. For in that moment when you said yes, I grew my life better, I made it with you.

We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you. – 02.18.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Fun in Two


Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. All that I thought, that would make us true, all of my dreams are poor in comparison to truth, the thing that is all, when strangers are new, the beginning of all we had is better in fun in two. A lightning has come, that strikes glass through, a shining light of phosphorous love that seers we two, and all of the stars, and all of the past, historical ghost of spirits, that make us last. My thought of it all, is me in you, my head spinning round makes fun in two.

There is an ark, a mountain pass, a place of shadows in the beginning that seem to last. I would strip down, and make you laugh, you would strip too, and pain would pass, all of its right, from what we’ve been through, taking a story of legend, and making it true. Calling down daemons, calling down sun, twisting the balance of the two now that is fun. When there are tales spun by the fire, when there is time, and we have felt are spirits expire, we will arise, and make change new. While all around us terror, fights without a clue. All of it’s me, damn sure that it’s you, twisting and falling making love it’s fun in two.

Looks like I’m grey, with a wrinkle or two, climbing mountains has made me this way, and then there’s you. You make me grow young, with a spell or two, my witch I’m your fan forever, fun in two. Can we go out, go out in the dark, can we live on this mountain together and jump the shark. I think I’ll smile, and grab you, and as we go on together I bet it’s fun in two. Forever and ever I bet it’s fun with you.

Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. – 01.05.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Love above Water


Shall we fly above the water without our egos looking down, cross the raging foam of oceans where troubles often found? Shall we look at all the tempest that divides a world in two, personality disorders, between a couple fighting through? For there is a book of notions, that is written without a clue, that it says to love each other, we must become something new. Oh I would not deceive you, for I’ve seen the storm below, and if that liquid overtakes us then we sink to what we know. For what we know there in relationship, is heavy shameful words, and they complicate emotion from the scars of history gleaned. For it bears so worth repeating that it’s almost worth a scream, keep your love above the water, where the air is pristine clean.

Do you think there is a passage that runs beneath the ocean floor, filled with Freud and all his articles, what’s your personality for? Maybe Jesus or some great monk holds your souls within their hands, just beneath the Mediterranean, might be where your marriage stands. Have you thought it might be possible to divest from one and two, look at this your own failings forgive one, and bend for two. It could be time above the water, not invested in things of man. Not in social, scripted media, or somebody else’s plan, not a book in light of Buddha, not a wise man from the east, turn your honest eyes to others, tame the lust that is the beast. It is not a plan of heaven, it is not a smile than frown, it is consummating eye to eye, where your love will soon be found.

Shall we fly above the water, leave your childhood on its own, take yourself as wonder living, a simple breath that is your own. Come you now to one another without wave and weight of time, love your soul within another, above the water where there’s sky. Oh it is a special cadence that beats far within your bones, when you come to one another without personality or a home, and you turn in spinning laughter, holding hands in what is found. For above this life of water, love is found above, so sound.06.23.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

First Poem to Life (Twenty-Two)


Testing the years that go by, taking each sliver of light in your eye, and forming a jigsaw, balance and scale, tipping my hat to the night we do well. For twenty-two shamans each year they do spell, in sixes and numbers, love magic bevels. For what is not chosen, that destiny rides, our energies woven in delicate strides, and from that first poem to twenty-two, I drop air like kisses, I fell them on you. For we are awakened forward on time, our minds built on features, that only G-D binds, and oh dear my woman, that changed all my life, these twenty-two years from first poem to life.

Harvest take planting, we played in the dirt, spoken to large demons, and strayed into hurt, but all of our fortunes came down to a rhyme, a simple reunion where angels do cry. They cry out for justice to know what we have, for twenty-two reasons, and maybe by half. To know what’s inside us, for all that we are. A man and a woman drawn out in stars, taken by spirits scribed by our scars, oh what of the reasons, that sirens to play, with letters our fortune each word on our days. These lines on my forehead each drawn delicately, tell a sweet fortune, of us two retrieved. Brought forward chosen in winds backwards blown, given our energies light love spawn known, these twenty-two reasons, these twenty-two years from first poem to season, sprung from our tears.

A girl of the ember, I dreamed on a flame, green eyed, in a calling, when heaven, hell came, and joined quiet a union, unknown from before. Came into being what came from before, and we are in beauty, a marriage of two, for twenty-two years now, I have been you, and oh my sweet woman, look what you’ve done, married a mad man, who sings in the sun, and poems like the first one, I write for you dear, these twenty-two lifetimes incredibly clear. Oh open ghost heavens my heart to the sky, that first poem to your heart, the one that made life. For we are awakened forward on time, our minds built on features, that only G-D binds, and oh dear my woman, that changed all my life, these twenty-two years from first poem to life.

For me wife celebrating twenty-two years on 03.06.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Shoshanna’s Psalm

Shoshanna,

Let us go a ride into a life of season, clinging to a psalm of delight, sail upon a cloud of olive eyed spirit, overly the keys of a sighing night. There are tides that I will move within a desert, bring forth a bed summon there upon my thighs. Kisses when the sky falls, and begs for legion, I will bare your shoulders, a thousand wishes by my sight. Let a witch bend your spine, and daze your spirit, turn your fallow skin, on a Judean night, set a seal of oil upon your eyelids, thrust you ever gentle till, the seal is made tight. There are falling sons of seventy nations, a span of jealous lights of heavens far high. They would die bled dry on a daemons altar, watching morning rise to be with you tonight.

Shoshanna,

Bespoken by this summons of a Magen coven, essence of a psalm, that takes us through a life. Would I come to you where the sea is weeping, show me rings of light, while questions learn of why, under open sky, less it pass us by. Shoshanna is a rhyme that consumes reason, shifting in my craft, I cry out take my flight…and then she sees, I’m not a mighty witch, I’m only me.

For honest thought, for spirit that would bring a lady what he’s not, a sudden inspiration from some galaxy, a G-D like change that interacts with me, and purifies my magic, and I’m caught, and spins the coals of life into her fold, and she believes and touches me.

Blessed be, he that interacts, and brings her soul intact too me, a song, a thought of magic strong, between Shoshanna and me, and all the world does turn, for deficient light has ceased, a witch on his knees, and in his place of strength a psalm. What is me, when every thrilling spell is gone, and its two come to one, and it’s special like a private night song. Shoshanna’s Psalm. – 02.24.2015 – דניאל

Daniel Swearingen – Shoshanna’s Psalm

Driving Snow


When you’re driving snow, it’s like a woman’s body, you’re careful where you go, speed and then slow. For your find yourself, watching atmospheric pressure, sometimes warm, in slush a slicker row. Now take your time, your certainly no genius, G-D created snow, well before you know, and just like that she’s carbonate elusive, your tires and handling, can take you where you don’t want to go. A weaker sort can live a long a beach front, bathing in sand, and watching skin glow, but laziness, finds, a lack of imagination, there’s plenty of that when you’re driving snow, you know, the man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow.

Elevated time, to drive a peak, a highway, somewhere up where there’s a lot of snow, frozen gift, a find , a sort of magic, white pale skin, the kind that makes love flow. Driving snow, well above a tree line, changing letters for words to help her know, that when your ice, you radiate the sunshine, closer to life, than heat would ever know, some grow, oh man, when your sliding, turn your wheel into the slickest snow, and learn about what you should know. Some would fall fast and drive around a freeway where ploughs have been, it’s safe to go. What chance is that your soul will not find freedom, learn to spin, a blizzard, will not fold. In time, you learn to love to drive in pretty snow, the man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow.

Now that’s men, let’s talk about a lady, one who shines pure, a light of driven snow, have you been looking for a freedom, a man who drifts, or a man who likes to drive snow. That fella there whose not much for talking, the one who drives where others won’t go, let him take you to a place of mystic, where there’s going to be a lot of snow, then smile, slip and live a drive through a mountain snow. The man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow. – 2.16.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Dewey and Agnes

Dewey and Agnes, reach Opus Magnus, through grass, before the sun alights, his smile warm, and her spirit hotter. All of it before them, year after year, minute after minute, her dancing naked under moon light, while the wind blew, the fires came, and in his heart Judea sang. Dewey and Agnes upon Purim, young and new, silver and old.  Blushing children like in an Andy Hardy  movie, scripting perfect stories while the rains came, the snows plunged, and he made his way homeward to her inward heat. Dewey and Agnes in the ward, in the cafeteria, watching a child die, touching elbows, the great thumb wars, playing music, upon each other like wild children often do.

Dewey and Agnes bathing….

Dewey and Agnes touching fingers at the Synagogue….

Dewey and Agnes staring at the same white square upon the chess board!

Thistles and groves, all that life throws, who can believe in two when one fights each foe!

Dewey and Agnes, while the clock ticks, counting each breath and knowing each moment rich. Every dollar, every comfort, bought between them, while the world turns, great religion’s turn to dust, while they make love, under candles, tasting Shabbat while deity shyly watches, and then turns in blessing to build their home. Dewey and Agnes buying a Pontiac, driving a Ford, listening to Van Halen rock the cradle down, their hearts feeling the same as when Pat Boone crooned their hearts away. Dewey and Agnes in Egypt, living Passover, avoiding the angel, almost missing the dark seraph.

Dewey and Agnes bathing….

Dewey and Agnes touching fingers at the Synagogue….

Dewey and Agnes staring at the same white square upon the chess board!

Thistles and groves, all that life throws, who can believe in two when one fights each foe!

Dewey touching the grass, Agnes touching the air, both moving, score by score, year after year, queen to d4…. Check please under heaven not checkmate. The stone so grey, still warm from her touch, Agnes turns, as a woman who knows a king, and walks silently alone into the day. – 12.01.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל

We Melt Away


First there were four!

She put a coat of many colors on my gray, watching my old inhibitions melt away. It could have been a Sunday noon, or just as we watched the moon, but suddenly our years were in play. Woman with the hair down in your face, did you ever think our children would bring us grace, for all we know she’s driving high, he’s the journey that makes us cry, the pace that brings us to our breaking place. Through the years have mocked us, some have stung, a leviathan of dollars come to none, and yet we touch our magic hands, grow real close without a band, and when the silent music starts to play, we melt away, love, we melt away.

Courage is a word, applied by some, perhaps those of them who have none. Not by human motive, a space held by a sun, not found by a totem, or when your yoga’s done, but by pure faith, we have made our way, my woman, oh in time we melt away. The knock upon the door it tells of pain, another empty promise gone away. A child that has lost their way, another creditor that won’t go away, I know, we pray. Storms that catch our souls when we our shunned, blessings mounted on the second sum. This, that too it also goes, a step or two and backward throws, my love, we melt away, my love we melt away.

Needs that captured life by counted score, destiny that faltered, than roared. What has happened to our lives, were melting and there’s no divide, Adonai, the angels play, we melt away my gift, we melt away. Suddenly one instead of four, apocalyptic divides by two division source. Destined to the fates of find, the great of answers there we rhyme, and then I take you, oh my lady, now, we melt away in one, we melt away.

Now there is one! – 10.14.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל