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?

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

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

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Recognized

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?

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Poetry Potlatch Practice-Walt Whitman Style

The Story of My Thoughts Spilling

by michaelcahill

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